Chapter Text
Dear Shen Jiu,
It's been many months since the last time I've visited Cang Qiong Mountain, but it feels like only yesterday I've last saw your wrinkled brows.
What could this mean? Do I feel happier when I'm away from you? Is that why my time away feels fleeting?
Or is your presence so overbearing that the memory still lingers through my days? It must be the latter, of course. The very existence of the Qing Jing Peak Lord is enough to tremble one's heart. And of course with such frightening impact, I feel your frigid eyes every time I hear a fwip of a fan or a semblance of jaded green.
Hehe. Are you clutching angrily at my heartfelt letter right now?
Anyway, how have you been dear friend? Gege? Old man? Are you well? Or am I writing to someone who's already passed from a Qi deviation, and this letter has been received upon his many beloved peers, hands hesitating to reply with a terrible revelation? Ah, I dread that day. After all, I don't fare well in white mourning robes, and some of my beloved pets absolutely disdain the pale color and will not think twice to dirty it.
Oh! Speaking of pets, I can't wait to tell you about my recent discoveries. In fact, I have filled out another bestiary and botanical guide for the library. The human world is vast, and the abyss is vaster, and even throughout my long life, I have barely scraped the surface of my endeavors. I am so filled with vigor and enthusiastic obsession to the point I worry about myself, but only sometimes.
And though I dread the wack of that fan of yours, I will be dropping by the peak in around five days from now. I'm telling you this because I have been craving congee recently. It's not like I can't make it, but I've been been craving your cooking, and I hope that the dish is simplistic enough to not impede your work. Children are already hard enough to deal with, after all.
Your friend,
Shen Yuan
There is a pitiful stretch on the youth's lips, straining from falling even more lest it reveals the distress on his face. Tense shoulders shaking from both a straining and back-and-forth movement from his arms, repeating a forceful motion that began to peel away a layer of his skin. The river did nothing to cleanse the stain out of these bedraggled robes, torn out by outside abuse and wear with threads peeking from the edges, yet this boy manically insisted.
This was the only uniform he had left.
And the strange substance refused to disappear.
Luo Binghe, holding back waterfalls of frustration, chewed the gummy insides of his cheek. It's impossible to hide the imperfection; the stain was on the outer layer, and it was right on both of the shoulders to the back, creating a harsh contrast between murky green and white. He was fortunate that the goo hardened quickly and didn't drip down anywhere else, and was too thick to seep through, but it was still there.
He sniffs and hiccups.
This was nothing- this should be nothing compared to what he endured during his first year on the mountain. But washing laundry reminds him of his late mother, whose hands were cracked and scarred yet delivered a soft warm touch every time he felt saddened. This should be nothing, he told himself, and tears over a stain should be downright shameful.
But for some reason, the white - or rather grayish white due to abuse - slapped with such an ugly shade of green was his breaking point. It reminded him that he was a stain on this elegant, perfect peak, and no matter how much he tried or what he did, it can't ever fade.
A tear fell off his trembling cheeks unto the drenched robe. His hands were red, cold, and raw from the continuous scrubbing, and his arms were too sore to wipe away the oncoming stream.
Looking down at the water, he only hated himself even more when he saw the rippling reflection of a pitiful, useless, talentless, unloveable orphan boy.
You're weak, he quietly threatened to his reflection. You could've avoided this if you didn't frown when Shixiong told you to do the laundry.
In midst of his self deprecation, a twig snapped behind the bushes. But the boy was too frustrated to hear the approacher, that when he saw another beside his face, he screamed and slipped into the waters.
A hand quickly reached out and easily pulled the weight of the boy - it's not like he weighed a lot, though - and gently laid him on the grass. Shivering from the cold with adrenaline pumping throughout his blood, Luo Binghe froze when the man before him knelt down eye-to-eye level.
Green. The orbs that stared back at him were green. Not of the sharp jade that his Shizun bore. No, it was more of a warm green, similar to the bamboo leaves around him, the green that enveloped him in his solace.
"Are you alright?"
The man couldn't be considered as ethereally beautiful like Shizun but neither average and dull like Shixiong. There was something unique to him; instead of a intricately carved ice statue, this man was a blossoming flower covered in the aftermath of a gentle shower, dew scintillating from the bright sun.
Dark chocolate hair swayed as the man reached into his side, pulling out a qiankun pouch and taking out a talisman. Luo Binghe was too awestruck and terrified to move away from the nearing hand, and didn't question what the talisman might do to him. But surprisingly, the moment the rice paper dissolved into thin air, Luo Binghe found himself completely dry.
"This is an Excess Moisture Absorber made from the energy of a Murky River Kitten. The energy in this talisman is the one they use lighten their fur from the water," his tone understanding and scholarly explained. "I apologize for startling you. But I was wondering why a Qing Jing Peak disciple was out here instead. Well, you are one, aren't you?"
Managing to answer with a sore throat, the boy replied, "yes."
The man furrowed his brows in consternation. "Hm. I wasn't aware that Qing Jing Peak began treating their disciples this way. Are their funds too low to replace those worn robes of yours? And you are certainly quite skinny... Ah, you look quite, erm, disheveled?"
The man was trying to be kind about his unsightly appearance. Because he wasn't given any oils, or soap, or any hygienic product in general, the boy had to make do with the rivers, and he was always constantly doing chores that dirtied him easily. Luo Binghe's ears burned in shame, the hotness searing down his neck. "Th-This lowly disciple... is undeserving of any new robes. He was the one who... who failed to keep his appearance."
"Hm. Hmm... This is certainly a problem. I must speak to this master of yours," the man murmured contemplatively.
His stomach dropped, and he immediately kowtowed. "No! No, this disciple insists that it's not a problem! Please do not tell Shizun about this!"
Not expecting such a fervent, panicked reaction, the man waved his hands. "Don't bow to me. I won't tell your 'Shizun' then. But are you sure you're alright? I saw you rubbing at those," his slender finger points at the heap of dirty white robes, now even dirtier since it was on the mud, "for the past minutes. Now that I look closer - oh, no wonder. That's the saliva of a White Flower Lizard. It's resistant to any soap or water, so I guess that that part of the uniform is done for."
Tears instantly welled up at his blunt words.
The man instantly noticed and added, "well, don't worry. Those scraps look as good as a dish rag, so you shouldn't wear them anyway. Here, I think I still have this." He reached again into the pouch and pulled out the uniform of Qing Jing Peak. "I think these will fit. It's been years, but this is what I had during my first years here. Luckily for you I kept them for nostalgia. Ah, and don't fret about compensation. You need it."
"I... This lowly one can't ac-"
The man clicks his tongue in annoyance and Luo Binghe shuts up. "Quit it with the lowly stuff. That's not good for a boy's self esteem. Then just consider this as remuneration when I startled you earlier."
Seeing how the man insisted, Luo Binghe began to change. The man turned around to give him privacy. The robes on his skin were well kept, almost exactly the same quality that he had when he first joined the peak. It was a bit loose considering the boy was scrawny from malnourishment and overexertion. It shielded the cool breeze away from his skin and began to warm up his body. It felt so right yet so wrong to wear such nice clothing that his heart became heavier when he looked at the pitiful state of his previous robes.
After hearing he was done, the man turned and hummed in approval. "That looks much more befitting a disciple of Qing Jing."
"And... what of my old robes?"
The man seemed to realize that. "Ah those? You won't miss those, right?" The moment Luo Binghe nodded, the man snaps his fingers and the robes on the ground went aflame. The boy jumps away from the suddenness with widened eyes.
"Ah, but esteemed one, what about your robes that I'm wearing?"
"What do you mean my robes? Those are clearly yours. It's not like there's a second pair of robes around here," the man smiled at the fire that had already consumed said robes and left a pile of ash that was swept away by the wind, "and don't call me 'esteemed one'. It makes me sound old. Just call me Shen Yuan... hm, although I suppose that's not appropriate. Call me whatever, then. Doesn't really matter."
A cold shiver touches his spine at the familiar name. But hearing the familiar name also sparked a sense of curiosity within him, and he was about to meekly ask if he was related to his Shizun. Now that he looked closer, there was some striking similarities between the two... if he squinted hard enough.
But he was too slow, and the man looked like he realized something and he began to turn around. "Ah, apologies young one! I just remembered I have a rendezvous. You should join your martial siblings for your lunch, alright?"
"Shishu-"
The man hurriedly disappeared into the foliage. Of course, despite the gnawing hunger in his stomach, Luo Binghe discreetly follows the eccentric stranger instead.
At some point, the surroundings became more hauntingly familiar. Luo Binghe felt a trickle of worry creeping up on his skin. He soon found out the reason why when his eyes laid upon a building within the green forest; this was territory that was absolutely forbidden to a wretch like him: Shizun's bamboo house. The suspicion that this man was related to his Shizun only amplified when Shen Yuan didn't hesitate to walk through the stone garden - though he hesitated when a flower caught his eye - and strode up to the door before knocking casually.
Luo Binghe's fists curled up at such stupor. This man seemed to be once a disciple of Qing Jing Peak, but judging from his unfamiliar and humble robes with no accessories or anything that showed high heritage or importance, it was tantamount to an average merchant strolling up to the emperor's gold throne and licking it.
Shen Qingqiu was no saint, no kindhearted gentleman. He treated his martial siblings with cold indifference and judgmental aloofness. Even Ning Yingying couldn't request Shizun's presence without asking the head disciple, and even the head disciple had to choose his days carefully to even approach the house! So even if this man was a disciple or acquaintance alongside Shizun, isn't this just too familiar?
"Hey, gege!" Shen Yuan shouted. "I'm not the sect leader so don't even try to pretend you're not here!"
The boy holds a choked gasp. Gege?!
Not a moment later, the door opened to reveal a very pissed off immortal.
"Shen Yuan," a leveled angry tone spat out from the man. Luo Binghe subconsciously shrinks at the sight of his Shizun's anger, feeling terrified at the familiar tone that often singled to him alone. But in the face of such animosity, Shen Yuan seemed rather indifferent to the murderous aura emitting before him- Luo Binghe's eyes almost bulged out when Shen Yuan suddenly snickered.
"Surprise! I came a day early because I really wanted your cooking. Ah, but really you're so unprepared! The peak definitely changed while I was gone. Are you running low on funds? Now that I think about it, you look kinda skinnier too..."
The man reaches out for Shizun's face, only to be smacked with a fan. "Don't touch me," Shizun hissed. Shen Yuan took that warning as a challenge and shook his head. "Aish, y'know you could just tell me you missed me."
"I'd rather die," came the harsh reply.
"Haha. Don't cry Jiu-ge. I'm here now." Luo Binghe gapes from afar when Shen Yuan swiftly envelopes the immortal with a hug and buries his face into the man's shoulder. Though he couldn't see Shen Yuan's face, he saw how quickly the anger melted from Shizun's countenance, brows relaxing and eyes softening at the touch, before quickly turning cold when Shen Yuan pulls away. "Let's go inside, yeah? I have a lot of things to say to you. We have quite a lot to catch up on, dear friend."
They both disappeared into the bamboo house, unaware of the terrifying and intriguing interest they had inspired unto the obscure disciple.