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“You are a fucking disgrace.”
At Rong Guang’s words, Shi Qingxuan freezes mid-strike, eyes wide in alarm. Pei Ming pats his shoulder. “You’re doing fine. He means me.”
“The hell am I watching here?” Rong Guang shouts as Pei Ming moves between the two of them and turns his back to his alleged best friend. That way he can almost pretend he isn’t there. “You call this a self-defense lesson? What’s he defending against, a leaf?”
Almost.
“Ignore him,” Pei Ming tells Shi Qingxuan, who visibly wilts and abandons his previous stance. It’s a lie to say the lesson had been going well before this point, between a student with only two working limbs and two loud spectators grumbling from a bench, but with Rong Guang hurtling abuses instead of just unwanted suggestions, Shi Qingxuan’s morale goes from pitiful to nonexistent.
“Why did you even bring him here?” he grumbles darkly.
“I didn’t. He does what he wants.”
These days all Rong Guang wants is to follow him around and reminisce on the good old days.
“Remember when you taught our troops? They’d have wet themselves in terror at the thought of an hour with you back then! Now they’d do so laughing.”
If Pei Ming had both the choice and the benefit of hindsight, he would never have told Rong Guang about his meetups with Shi Qingxuan. They were supposed to be a private thing. It’s a testament to how much better their relationship was nowadays that Shi Qingxuan didn’t immediately run off when he saw their company.
“And Little Pei? Who invited him?”
“Rong Guang.”
Some time ago, somehow, maybe because of that near-death experience they all faced, Rong Guang decided he liked Pei Ming’s sour-faced descendent after all and Little Pei became a fixture of most of their outings. Pei Ming didn’t mind it as much as he probably should have. The way he saw it, he got to keep an eye on his junior, and Rong Guang got to annoy someone that wasn’t him.
Someone probably should have asked Pei Xiu how he felt at some point, but if he had any objections, they were long won over by Rong Guang’s stories of the past. Sitting calmly beside him, he asks, “What kind of training sessions were they?”
It’s exactly what Rong Guang wants to hear.
“Ah Little Pei, if only you’d been born a few centuries earlier. You could have met your ancestor when he was someone actually worth admiring. Never mind this sex-crazed moron, when they called him a battle god back then, they meant it. His enemies thought they had it bad, but they should have seen what he did to his own troops. They called him the Demon of the Drill Grounds.”
Pei Ming coughs into his fist, an unpleasant heat creeping up his neck. He grumbles some instructions to Shi Qingxuan who makes a few halfhearted attempts at following them. His movements get sloppier with each attempt, and finally he stops altogether.
“My leg hurts. I’m taking a break.”
“Go ahead.”
The exchange doesn’t go unheard by their audience. 800-year-old stories are halted, replaced by at an outraged screech. “What go ahead?” Rong Guang shouts at him. “What fucking break? That was barely even a warmup! He didn’t even run a single lap!”
Pei Ming nudges Shi Qingxuan towards the shade, and whirls around. “Maybe you haven’t noticed, but he’s injured.”
“And? When you broke Duke Guo’s son’s foot, you still made him run twenty.”
“For the last time, I didn’t know it was broken!”
Shi Qingxuan stumbles at that moment, saved from a fall only by Pei Ming’s honed reflexes. Shooting a warning glare at Rong Guang, Pei Ming helps Shi Qingxuan to a tree at the other end of the courtyard. He steps back as Shi Qingxuan makes himself comfortable and starts to massage his ruined ankle. Contrary to Rong Guang’s complaints, he has made a decent effort (for his stamina), his skin red from breathlessness and covered in a sheen of sweat. Pei Ming hands him a water flask.
On the other side, Rong Guang slings his arm around Pei Xiu’s shoulder and launches into the sordid tale of Duke Guo’s son’s broken foot, his combat teacher’s mercilessness, and all the headaches that followed (for him mostly. In fairness, all Pei Ming really remembers of that affair is Rong Guang smoothing it over for him). Pei Xiu nods along with shining eyes, and even Shi Qingxuan looks over, albeit his own expression is unreadable.
He's exaggerating, Pei Ming wants to say, but knows Rong Guang will hear and start spewing even more nonsense, so he can only try to draw Shi Qingxuan into a conversation just for them. Despite the difficulties, Qingxuan thrives in his life in the mortal realm, and the stories he has to share are far more interesting than whatever ancient history happened to Pei Ming in the past.
As happy as he is to have Rong Guang back, Pei Ming really doesn’t miss that side of him.
Shi Qingxuan complies, and the two of them get their own discussion going. It is quickly cut short by Rong Guang’s yelling once again.
“To think this is who’s leading Heaven’s army. Fuck, I should have invaded centuries ago!”
“General Pei is not usually like this,” Pei Xiu cuts in on his general’s behalf. The soft flat tone Pei Ming is used to has been replaced by reverent passion. “When it comes to the officials under his command, he is still just as merciless. No one dares cross him.” Pei Xiu’s reverent words came from experience, of course, one of his earliest memories of heaven being tested on the Ming Guang Palace’s training grounds by his legendary ancestor. He has been both witness and participant of Pei Ming’s practices, and gives plenty of stories upholding the Demon of the Drill Ground’s reputation.
Pei Ming’s eyes twitches as he hears them, a sour taste in his mouth.
Rong Guang is unimpressed. “Please. If they’re not left writhing on the ground in their own vomit, what’s even the point? You should hear how he taught our crown prince.”
Pei Xiu doesn’t have to ask before Rong Guang eagerly regales him.
Pei Ming grits his teeth for what must be the hundredth time that afternoon as Shi Qingxuan tilts his head warily.
“Did you really treat your own kingdom’s prince so brutally?”
“I wasn’t brutal. I was raising people for war. If they couldn’t survive my training, they wouldn’t survive period.”
The answer doesn’t satisfy him. “Aren’t I also supposed to survive?”
“You’re different,” Pei Ming says simply and slides down next to him. Shi Qingxuan always has been to him, even if he can’t fully articulate how or why. Without really thinking about it he leans over to check Shi Qingxuan’s foot for himself. “I’m not readying you for a battlefield. I’m only teaching you a few basic ways to protect yourself. And even then, I still need to figure out how to work around your injuries.”
He has some ideas, and plans to have Rong Guang help him try them later. It’s the only reason he hasn’t skewered him yet, he tells himself. Satisfied with Shi Qingxuan’s foot, he moves to his arm.
“It’ll get tougher eventually. Just don’t want you to get discouraged and quit right away.”
A comfortable silence settles over them as Shi Qingxuan handles the water flask with his good arm, while Pei Ming prods his bad one. Rong Guang and Pei Xiu’s stories continue, exaggerated tales punctuated by excitement and laughter.
Shi Qingxuan finally sighs. “I don’t see it,” he says.
“See what?”
“The you General Rong describes. Some larger-than-life battle god? The Demon of the Drill Grounds? How come all I’ve ever known is some sex-crazed doofus?”
It’s maybe not the nicest way of putting it, not that Shi Qingxuan would apologize, but Pei Ming bursts out laughing.
“People change,” he says with a wave of his hand. “Those old stories are just embarrassing now.”
“You should be more embarrassed about the newer ones.”
“And you should keep your mouth shut sometimes.” Pei Ming sets his arm down and stretches out against the tree. “I like the person I am with you. I don’t feel like I need to be that old battle god anymore. It’s much better to have a woman on each arm and a bratty little brother to push around. That settles it, I’m gonna retire.”
Shi Qingxuan has nothing to say to that, because Rong Guang, one ear to his friend at all times, shouts first.
“Like hell you are! What good are you for anything other than fucking and fighting? What would you even do? Start a farm like that Yushi Huang? No way! Fuck your retirement!”
The good moment passes in an instant.
“On second thought…” Pei Ming gets up, and finally faces his friend. “You want a go, Rong Guang? Put your sword where your mouth is and let’s fucking go.”
“Ha! Like I’m supposed to be afraid of a soft old fool like you.”
“You want soft? Let’s see how your insides feel when we’re done!”
“Just try it!”
“General Pei –
Shi Qingxuan starts to reach for Pei Ming’s cape, but Pei Ming is already halfway across the field sword drawn. Rong Guang stands before as Ming’guang, radiating as much smugness as a sword possibly could.
Pei Xiu steps beside Shi Qingxuan.
“General Pei vs. General Rong. This should be a good fight.” His eyes shone.
“What do you mean a good fight? Didn’t General Rong nearly kill him last time?”
“Last time there were dirty tricks employed. General Pei won’t lose a fair one.”
“Aren’t dirty tricks that guy’s specialty? Does he even know what a fair fight is?”
On the field, the duel has already begun, lightning-fast blows exchanged, tearing up a perfectly good grassy field. Pei Ming moves like a demon, the full weight of his power behind every attack. Rong Guang laughs as he’s smacked around, his insults getting more creative as his swings get faster.
“Beautiful,” Pei Xiu remarks. He’s trembling. “This is the General Pei spoken of in legends.”
Shi Qingxuan only winces and ducks behind Pei Xiu as splatters of red paint the grass.
“They can speak of him as they like,” he decides. “That doesn’t change the fact that he’s an idiot.”