Work Text:
Yue Qingyuan was not a vain man, but he always looked at himself when he dressed, if only for a moment. To see his scars and remind himself, to touch and feel the ridge of the rough tissue and the deep ache in his heart that came with them. The results of his shortcomings. It kept him humble, he told himself as he pulled his robes on for the day. He wasn't a masochist, but he couldn't allow himself to forget.
His duties would always await him, but never entirely set him at ease. When they had been young, Shen Jiu and he would dream of all the adventures and travels they would go on together as cultivators - turned out for the Sect Leader, it was mostly paperwork. As he came to his desk in the main room, it was clear his assistants had already been there; the table was laden with neat stacks of scrolls and documents awaiting his attention, and there was a full pot of still-warm tea from his personal tea set. He settled, poured himself a cup, and set to work.
It was good, at least - starting the day by clearing the paperwork gave him an almost meditative state, immersed in what was needed to run and maintain this prestigious sect, keeping a clear head as he responded to requests and complaints alike. About half way through his stack, he came across a letter that gave him pause.
Shen Qinghua, Peak Lord of An Ding, had sent a letter - whining was the only polite word for the tone - about how he hadn't received statements of finance from Qing Jing Peak yet, and that they were all giving him the runaround since Peak Lord Shen Qingqiu had yet to return to finalize the receipts. He begged Sect Leader's forgiveness and asked that the forwarded receipts be signed by himself, and that he ask Peak Lord Qingqiu to - did he read this right? - "remember to do his job once in a while."
Yue Qingyuan set the letter down. He ran a hand slowly under his collar - the scars along his shoulders were aching suddenly. Shen Jiu - no, Qingqiu - hadn't returned yet then from his most recent outing with… his husband, Qingyuan supposed. He wasn't sure if it was official yet, but there was no better term for how Luo Binghe treated Qingqiu. How Qingqiu had run towards Binghe, pausing only to give the briefest look of askance to Qingyuan. Despite the dim light of that night, the pain of it still bit so clearly.
What else could he have done? He smiled and nodded and wished the best to Qingqiu. He had found happiness, it seemed, and had done the best he could to bury the past, even if Qingyuan could not. He would be a monster to not give his blessing.
After all, wasn't that what he had wanted always, anyways? To see Qingqiu smile once more, to see him happy and truly thriving, rather than the languish of suffering he kept himself in and dragged everyone else down to? He had… grown different after that Qi deviation, and Qingyuan couldn't always recognize him as well, but things seemed to have gotten better for his disciples after that. There was that small blessing then. Maybe… it had all been for the best. For Qingqiu to bury it deep, and move on - at least he seemed to lay no blame at Qingyuan's feet any longer.
Qingyuan pulled his hand from his robe, readjusted the collar, dipped his brush again and began to pen a response to Qinghua, letting him know he would handle things. He would handle things however he could for Qingqiu. It was the least he could do.