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Shen Qingqiu had only just begun to wonder after his husband when a harried burst of energy nearly smashed through the door of the bamboo house.
He jumped to his feet before realizing Luo Binghe had returned relatively on time—in a sense.
“Shizun!” Luo Binghe gasped out, looking not a day over the age of sixteen. He breathed hard as he stood in the threshold, panic written across his face. “Shizun, we have to go, right now, he knows who you are—”
Before Shen Qingqiu could decipher anything more about the situation, a cold, almost manic laughter reached both their ears. Luo Binghe’s eyes widened, and he turned to stand in front of Shen Qingqiu, as though shielding him from whatever was coming. Protecting him, Shen Qingqiu realized; a pang resounded in his chest.
One black boot came into view, then another—the tall, black-clad form of Luo Binghe’s pursuer revealed at last.
Shen Qingqiu’s eyes widened. Without thinking, he snapped out his fan to cover the rest of his shocked expression.
Luo Binghe’s pursuer was… Luo Binghe?!
“Save the crying act,” said the Luo Binghe at the door, “it won’t matter to him.” His voice was pleasant and careful, but he avoided Shen Qingqiu’s gaze, lingering instead on everything else. Anything else, perhaps.
He was wearing the same clothes as he had been when Shen Qingqiu first reunited with him in Jinlan City.
The Luo Binghe standing between him and—this was foolish. Almost as foolish as when he’d had to differentiate between Luo Binghes the last time.
Rather than reusing names, Shen Qingqiu decided to keep it simple. The younger Luo Binghe would be Xiao Binghe, and the elder…
Well, Shen Qingqiu was fairly certain he would not take well to a nickname in this delicate phase of his life. Best to stick with ‘Luo Binghe’ for now.
Xiao Binghe was readying to charge, whatever the cost may be. Shen Qingqiu stopped him with one hand on his shoulder.
“It is alright, Binghe,” he said, looking between both of them. “This master will not need your protection.”
“But Shizun,” Xiao Binghe argued, turning to him with a furrowed brow, “he’s—”
“My disciple,” Shen Qingqiu finished for him. He looked directly at Luo Binghe as he said so. “Both of you are. Will you tell this master what happened to you today?”
You do not remember how you arrived in this clearing. Beneath you, the ground is scorched, but the heat has long-since abandoned the blackened grass. A figure moves beside you and you roll away, not eager to meet the blade of whoever has caught you unawares, not when you don’t seem to have your sword with you.
Why are you here? Who dragged you out here, and for what purpose?
It doesn’t matter. Shizun will know the answer. You need to reach him, and as you look around, you begin to place yourself within the trees surrounding Qing Jing Peak.
The figure beside you groans and sits up. You need to move fast to avoid him.
You get to your feet and move to run when you see something… strange. Familiar. Uncanny. This stranger appears to be wearing your face!
Alright, it’s not exactly the same, but it’s close enough—his cheeks aren’t as round as yours, and you would know, because you spend far too much time looking in the mirror and wondering when you’ll look dignified and noble enough to stand at Shizun’s side.
He looks back at you. Something tells you to run, now.
“Interesting,” this stranger with your face says, getting to his feet and dusting off his black robes. You know that this isn’t some sort of time loop, that this can’t possibly be a future version of you— only death would stop you wearing Shizun’s colors, surely.
He takes a look at you as you zero in on the sword at his hip. It’s unfamiliar, but has a powerful aura, one that almost seems to call out to you…
“What sort of demon would steal that face ?” the face-stealer asks.
You don’t know what he’s talking about, but if he’s pretending to be you, then you know one thing above all else that he’ll react to—if only to keep up appearances.
Looking over his shoulder, you visualize Shen Qingqiu in your mind. “Shizun!” you cry, relief strong in your voice.
He turns to look behind him.
You run.
“I don’t remember,” Xiao Binghe admitted. “I woke up and saw him, and I knew that if he was stealing my face, he would probably try to come here and get close to you—”
“The only one stealing anyone’s face is you, runt,” Luo Binghe cut in with a scoff. “That, or this is the weirdest nightmare I’ve had since…” He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head, but not before Shen Qingqiu caught the dark circles under his eyes—nor did he miss the way Luo Binghe’s free hand strayed reflexively to the hilt of Xin Mo.
Shen Qingqiu winced behind his fan.
Xiao Binghe stepped forward and out from beneath Shen Qingqiu’s restraining hand. “It’s my face! And my Shizun!”
Immediately after saying those words, Xiao Binghe flushed a bit, looking back at Shen Qingqiu with all the nervousness of his schoolboy crush. Shen Qingqiu wished he could let him know that everything was fine, that he would be happy with Shen Qingqiu in future, but until he was able to figure out what sort of mess they were in, it was dangerous to give too much information away.
“Binghe.” Both faces turned toward Shen Qingqiu, one sullen and struggling, the other fiery yet desperate for approval. “Both of you may keep your face. Will you allow this master to ask you a few questions, before I attempt to explain?”
Xiao Binghe nodded, then turned to throw a fierce glare at Luo Binghe over his shoulder. Shen Qingqiu gestured for them to sit, intending each of the Luo Binghes to face him. Xiao Binghe sat immediately on Shen Qingqiu’s right, but when the elder Binghe did not comply, Shen Qingqiu lowered his fan and asked, “This is what you wanted, is it not? To ask me why?”
That surprised him, Shen Qingqiu could see it in his eyes. He knelt with all the grace of a perfect protagonist; flushed with the power gained in the Abyss, Luo Binghe from this time of his life almost glowed, though there was a dark tinge to it.
Shen Qingqiu lifted his fan again to grimace. Old habits didn’t die as hard as old thought patterns.
“First, I need to know what you two remember from the past day or so.”
“Why?” Luo Binghe asked. He didn’t allow any poison into his voice, but his eyes were sharp, and he was stubborn. “Answer my questions, then I’ll answer yours.”
“Shizun wants us to answer first!” Xiao Binghe argued. “You should know he has a good reason for everything, if you’re—if you’re really…” He didn’t finish the sentence, as though reluctant to admit to the possibility that Luo Binghe could be telling the truth. Xiao Binghe’s adoration and loyalty were much too intense at this stage of his life; he would be hard-pressed to accept someone who questioned Shen Qingqiu as Luo Binghe had been.
Shen Qingqiu didn’t let them argue about it any further, trying to keep the focus on himself rather than their mutual animosity. “I will answer everything in time. I promise.”
Luo Binghe’s brows furrowed, the demon mark resting perfectly above that tiny flaw in his otherwise perfect features. It was almost more beautiful for this imperfection, turning his face from a statue of perfection to something understandable and raw, something sympathetic. Even knowing this was how Luo Binghe bent others to his will, Shen Qingqiu was more susceptible than anyone to this trait of his.
“I know I have broken my promises to you before,” he said, that swell of proper instincts returning to his chest, as it had when he attempted to nourish Luo Binghe in his youth, especially. “I’ll explain that, too.”
Luo Binghe’s expression smoothed, his eyes calm, dark pools. “Of course, Shizun.”
If he were Shen Qingqiu of the past, who was always so afraid of an emerging vendetta, this look alone would have terrified him. It was Luo Binghe’s quiet, charming persona. It was so impersonal that Shen Qingqiu had been known to take it extremely poorly, rather than seeing through his own fear to what it really was: a mask. Luo Binghe did not want to ruin his chances to get answers.
The fact that he was now treating Shen Qingqiu as a stranger did not sit well, but it was the best he could hope for. At least he wasn’t fucking up as badly as he had the first time around.
Shen Qingqiu turned to Xiao Binghe. “Please tell me everything you can remember.”
As Xiao Binghe explained, they’d awoken in a clearing, and there’d been recently burned earth beneath them. Neither had thought the other was another version of himself, clearly having thought instead that an enemy had stolen their face, but Xiao Binghe had used Shen Qingqiu as a distraction to escape.
Luo Binghe huffed a laugh. “You really are me.”
Shen Qingqiu raised his fan a little, worried one of them would notice his red ears. Hearing about being used to distract Luo Binghe this way made him very aware of just how long and how hard Luo Binghe had loved him, whether or not other things got in their way.
“It only bought this runt a few moments,” Luo Binghe said, a note of arrogance in his voice. Shen Qingqiu shivered, then felt a little guilty; this was not the time! “Once I realized he played me, I followed him straight to you, though you weren’t exactly hiding, were you?”
“No,” Shen Qingqiu agreed. In fact, he had been looking forward to reuniting with his husband and reminiscing in this place. It was always a little bit of a treat for Luo Binghe. He’d thought about it so many times, you see. “No, I was not.”
He cleared his throat, looking between them. “And before you woke up there?”
There was a long pause. “I can’t remember,” Xiao Binghe said, bowing his head. “Shizun, I’ve failed you.” His voice cracked down the middle of the word: failed.
Shen Qingqiu reached out with his fan to tilt Xiao Binghe’s head up, then thought better of it, holding it between his face and Luo Binghe while he reached out and placed his hand gently on Xiao Binghe’s hair. He patted his head several times. “You have never failed me,” he promised, glad for the fan—his face was growing hot. “No matter what I may have said.” These words were directed at Luo Binghe, who was glaring at his hand on Xiao Binghe’s head.
“So you can tell me now?” Luo Binghe asks, voice finally shaking. “You can tell him, but not me?”
Shen Qingqiu returned his hand to his lap, self-conscious in the wake of such an indictment. He’d made peace with what he’d done to ensure his own survival, and Luo Binghe did not make a big deal of it, these days. It had been a long time since Shen Qingqiu had faced such criticisms.
Which, if he thought about it, was a bit ridiculous.
He closed his eyes and took a breath. “You want to know what happened when I pushed you into the Abyss?”
“Yes,” Luo Binghe said. At the same time, his voice cracking beneath the weight of panicked confusion, Xiao Binghe asked, “Shizun, what did you say?”
You stare into the eyes of the only person who ever made you feel like a place or a person could be home, and nothing makes sense.
Shizun has never looked at you coldly, even when you made mistakes, even when you failed. Yet his eyes hold nothing of his former self, before or after he began treating you well. You’ve never seen this look.
What about you could possibly have put that look in Shizun’s eyes?
You know the answer, of course. Ever since you realized the truth of your blood, you’ve known it, no matter what Shizun said before. It couldn’t be true that he could care for someone like you, not as you are. You’ve been poisoned since birth!
Shizun will never be proud of you again. You are a traitor, who cultivated the demonic arts without informing him, who went behind his back, who lied and lied… He was so hurt by what you did that he could not bear for you to ask forgiveness, even from your knees.
You deserve this. You don’t want to bear it even if you do.
“But Shizun,” you plead, “you’ve said before that people can be good or evil, and that demons can also be good or evil.” You remember everything Shizun has ever said to you. So many words from so many people fade when they stop being useful, but Shizun’s words are all there, each perfect sound lining the walls of your mind and coming readily to your thoughts.
People can be good or evil. Demons can be good or evil, also.
“You are not an ordinary demon,” Shizun replies. His voice is colder even than that lord from the North. “You come from an ancient line of Heavenly Demons. This line has always killed countless people in the Human Realm. They have caused countless sins, no matter what may have been said. They cannot be compared to other demons.”
The line that runs in your veins shouldn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter! Shizun raised you, and Shizun is the best person you know. How could a good person raise a bad one? You can’t believe that. You can fail, but Shizun can’t fail.
How could he?
Your eyes burn. “You were the one who said it before.”
Shizun lifts his hand, Xiu Ya shortly summoned into his grip. He’s holding the sword so tightly his hand is shaking.
“Shizun, you really want to kill me?” You can’t believe that. It doesn’t make any sense.
When you finally manage to look up at Shizun, he isn’t looking back. It’s like he sees right through you. “I don’t want to kill you.”
You wish that was enough to offer comfort or relief. At best, something twists in your chest. That’s all? Shizun doesn’t want to kill you, sure, but is everything else fair game?
This can’t be real. Shizun would never do this. He would never speak to you this way, he would never think… Shizun would never go back on his word. Never.
Coldly, Shizun continues on. “Only, what they said earlier wasn’t wrong. The Human Realm is no longer where you belong. You should go home.” Shizun steps forward as he speaks. You take a step back, not wanting to be in his way or force him to touch you, not when he feels like this.
Shizun points into the Endless Abyss, forcing you to look. You can’t disobey him now. You look into the roiling ravine, listen to the tens of thousands of wails, watch as tens of thousands of twisted arms reach out toward the Human Realm, where they know the flesh of mortals awaits.
They would bathe in Shizun’s blood if they could. You don’t belong there!
“Will you go down by yourself,” Shizun asked, “or do you need me to move you?”
It just isn’t possible. This must be a test. Shizun loves you, he loves you, he loves you, he loves you—
Xia Yu’s tip is pointed right at your chest.
—he loves you, he loves you—
Shizun steps closer. Your throat tightens.
—he loves you, he loves you—
You grip the blade as it stings your chest. Your heart hurts, but it’s not from the outside.
—he loves you, he loves you—
Shizun slides Xia Yu out of your grip. He doesn’t want to kill you, after all.
—he loves you.
With an open palm, Shizun pushes you into the Endless Abyss.
“I was afraid,” Shen Qingqiu choked out. It was almost impossible to say the words aloud, but they needed to be said. Who would he be if he didn’t say them?
“Of me,” Luo Binghe assumed, his hands tightening to fists in his lap.
Shen Qingqiu shook his head. “No, Binghe. Not of you.”
The furrow was back between his brows. “Of what, then?”
“Of myself.” Shen Qingqiu closed his eyes. “That this master could not help you reach your potential.”
Though the System had not prompted him in years, it still lingered at the back of his mind, a phantom presence he could never truly erase. A threat, though he would never name it in front of Luo Binghe. It would torture him to be as helpless as Shen Qingqiu was when it came to the System. Yet it was not entirely the System that pushed him that day, and he would own the decision to the fullest extent. No one should hurt Luo Binghe without consequences—not even Shen Qingqiu.
“Pushed?” Xiao Binghe asked. “Shizun, what are you saying?”
Shen Qingqiu opened his eyes and faced Luo Binghe, whose eyes were shining. “Shizun was afraid for me?” he asked. Shen Qingqiu was reminded of the embers of hope he’d extinguished when he pushed Luo Binghe into the Abyss that first time.
This time, he could nurture that flame rather than snuffing it out.
“I knew that you needed to move on from me,” Shen Qingqiu explained. “Binghe, this master failed you that day.”
“I don’t believe it!” Xiao Binghe exclaimed. Luo Binghe was silent, but the shiny look in his eyes didn’t go away.
“I should have told you it was true,” Shen Qingqiu explained, looking between the two of them. “Just as I told you—” here, he nodded to Xiao Binghe, “—and just as you knew.” This time, he nodded at Luo Binghe. “Human or demon, it makes little difference. Some are evil and some are good.”
To his surprise, the two Luo Binghes actually looked at each other, nodding before returning their focus to Shen Qingqiu. He raised his fan on instinct and cleared his throat.
“What I should have told you from the start is the most important secret of all.” Shen Qingqiu looked at each of them. Only when they nodded, showing they were both listening, did he continue. “There are not just ‘some’ who are good; I know one in particular.” He could not help a close-lipped smile, and after a few moments, slowly lowered the fan. “Binghe, you’re a good boy.”
Twin sets of shining protagonist’s eyes widened in front of him.
“You really are,” Shen Qingqiu repeated. His face flushed a bit, but if he didn’t say it now, he was never going to get this much courage again. “You have always been good, and I have always loved you.”
There. That was all he could do, really. If he said anything else, he would not only lose his face, he would lose his body and melt away. It wasn’t much, but he offered it freely. The two Luo Binghes didn’t stop staring at him, and after only a few moments, Shen Qingqiu was desperate to escape their attention, whether he was sorry or not. He reached out with each arm and pulled them into a tight hug on each side of his body.
Xiao Binghe buried his head in Shen Qingqiu’s shoulder and began to cry almost immediately. On his left, Luo Binghe was stiff in his arms, only relaxing in slow, jerky increments.
Shen Qingqiu held them for a very long time. When he pulled away, he used his thumb to wipe away some of Xiao Binghe’s tears. The other hand he used to pat Luo Binghe’s hair, who waited only a moment before he nuzzled up against Shen Qingqiu’s palm—rather like his adult husband would.
It was time for Shen Qingqiu to clear his throat again.
Luo Binghe looked at Xiao Binghe, who was still using his fists to wipe away his remaining tears. The two considered each other. After a bit, Luo Binghe reached out and put his hand on Xiao Binghe’s shoulder, at which point something seemed to break inside him. He threw himself forward at Luo Binghe, who held him close while he cried some more.
Shen Qingqiu didn’t want to disturb them, but his heart ached. A while passed in silence before Xiao Binghe began to slide forward, past where a normal person would be able to. It was like the two Luo Binghes were fusing into one another. The sight was so unpleasant that Shen Qingqiu actually closed his eyes. Luo Binghe definitely wouldn’t mind when he was back… He would understand, wouldn’t he?
The next thing he knew, Shen Qingqiu was being tackled to the ground, his husband pinning him down as he kissed every inch of Shen Qingqiu’s face, the edge of his jaw, the lobes of his ears, even his neck.
“Yes, okay, Binghe, I missed you, too,” Shen Qingqiu said. He was happy enough that he laughed into Luo Binghe’s ear, which only made him more ridiculous. Shen Qingqiu was kissed thoroughly pink by the time Luo Binghe resurfaced.
Just when he thought Luo Binghe was done, Shen Qingqiu received a wet kiss to his nose. He wrinkled it. “Binghe!”
“Sorry, Shizun.” Luo Binghe’s eyes were literally sparkling. Shen Qingqiu fought his twin urges: one to push Binghe away and groan, the other to pull him down and kiss him some more.
He put his finger on the bridge of Luo Binghe’s nose, preventing him from coming closer. Though Luo Binghe could easily overpower him, he obeyed the wordless command, staying exactly where he was. “It was the Ivy of Self-Reflection.”
Shen Qingqiu had figured out which plot he must have run into, but only when the Luo Binghes reconciled. In the extra this Ivy originated from, it had not been Luo Binghe who ran into it, but Liu Mingyan, whose position at the top of the pyramid had been shaken, and who’d needed more reassurance than a powerful man like Luo Binghe would be able to offer in such a ridiculous stallion novel. It wasn’t called “Immortal Demon Humbles Himself for his Favored Wife” after all.
“I must have stumbled through some,” Luo Binghe continued, snapping Shen Qingqiu out of his thoughts on the meta. “This disciple was not paying close enough attention. I worried Shizun and caused him distress. Shizun, you must punish me as you see fit.”
Shen Qingqiu pinched the bridge of his nose in one sharp movement, then let go. “I’m glad it was something so harmless.”
Luo Binghe leaned down and kissed him on the lips. “All versions of Luo Binghe love you,” he promised, “and will never grow beyond you, no matter what they say.” There was a tinge of bitterness in his voice, but it didn’t come from this Ivy of Self-Reflection plot. No, it had been a long time since they were visited by Luo Bingge, but Luo Binghe was often still hung up on him, no matter how many times Shen Qingqiu promised he didn’t think about the other Binghe—not ever.
Whether or not that was true…
“And all versions of this master,” Shen Qingqiu whispered, eyes shut, his voice softer with every word, “love you.” Immediately, he pulled Luo Binghe down so that his chest was directly on top of Shen Qingqiu’s face. He couldn’t be seen after making such a display, even for Luo Binghe.
Well. Not really. If Luo Binghe needed him to go outside to know that Shen Qingqiu loved him, he would blush pink for the whole Human Realm.
But he really hoped Luo Binghe never asked.