Chapter Text
Proud Immortal Demon Way is one of, if not the trashiest, most long-winded, fanservice-ridden, smutty drivel that Shen Yuan had ever had the displeasure of reading. It was complete and utter garbage.
So that must mean that its author, Airplane-Shooting-Towards-The-Sky, (and wasn’t that a name to remember) must be some perverted, middle-aged creep with no talent or aspiration!
Except he wasn’t. In fact, he was pretty damn good. The first sixty chapters or so were actually very good, with foreshadowing and character growth and actual plot . With such detailed worldbuilding and descriptions so well-written you could practically see them in your mind’s eye. Things only got muddy during the Immortal Alliance Conference Arc.
And then it all went to Hell, quite literally.
But even for all the story's flaws, the foundations had already been laid.
The bed had been made, and Shen Yuan had to lie in it.
Shen Qingqiu died, probably, years ago now. Wasn’t that a thought.
He’d rather not think about what happened to the Original Goods. It was likely for the best that he never knew.
But that wasn’t the point of any of this, the point was that Shen Qingqiu was pushing his mind away from what was actually happening around him, which was Liu Qingge standing in front of him, shirtless, caught in the act of dropping a dead monster in front of his bamboo house as he’d taken to doing these past few years. Shirtless. With his hair mussed up and ponytail falling loose.
And shirtless.
“Hello, Shidi.”
“Shixiong.”
“...Tea?”
Liu Qingge nods, and drops the beast. His hands are bloody. “Ah, but perhaps Shidi should wash up first- '' Liu Qingge’s eyes widen, he goes red-faced and seems like he was about to protest before Shen Qingqiu continues, oblivious. “-in the river behind the house. I’ll bring you some spare robes.” Shen Qingqiu didn’t think about the fact that he kept clothes in Liu Qingge’s size in a drawer next to his own.
It was to be expected, when one’s Shidi was always getting into fights! Half the time, Shen Qingqiu would find him muddy and bloody (though the blood usually wasn’t his) carrying some beast or other on his back for him. Of course one would take the time to go out and buy some spare robes for him! That’s what friends do. Shen Yuan is a very good friend.
And Liu Qingge is still shirtless when he walks away, toward the lake.
Shen Qingqiu is not gay, and he reminds himself of this as he pours tea for his Shidi, who is now clean and fully dressed.
Shen Qingqiu is not upset about this.
A long silence falls between them as always, though there is a tenseness in the pause. Neither man looks up at the other, as if the first to make eye contact would be losing some sort of reverse-staring contest.
Shen Qingqiu makes an aborted gesture, as though he was about to open the fan he isn’t holding to cover his face. The War God extends a hand, a green and white silk fan between his fingers. “You dropped it outside.”
“Thank you, Shidi.”
Their fingers brush as the fan is passed from one hand to another, and neither man says a word. Shen Qingqiu swears he doesn’t cover a blush, and Liu Qingge’s ears are such a pretty shade of red when he turns away, coughing into his hand.
Cute.
Wait no shit fuck what? Why did he think that? He didn’t. The thought never crossed his mind.
They went about their meal as usual after that, (with great difficulty) and parted ways later that night.
And if they both looked at each other a bit too intensely before saying goodbye, that’s no one’s business. Not even theirs, because it didn’t happen!
His Shidi was just a very pretty man. Unnaturally so, enough to (maybe possibly probably?) compete with the protagonist himself! So it was no wonder Shen Qingqiu would have some sort of… reaction, to the man being so uncharacteristically sweet! Too much! The moe was off the charts!
It’s not like he would lay awake at night, unable to sleep, thinking about him!
…
Fuck.