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Chapter Text

The rumpled pile of clothing lay inert on the ground, the top layer barely fluttering in the gusts of foul wind periodically escaping the Endless Abyss.

A moment ago, Luo Binghe had fallen convulsing to the ground, overtaken by a sudden qi deviation. Shen Qingqiu had assumed it to be a clumsy attempt at a distraction, but the grotesque, spasming bend of Luo Binghe’s limbs and the bloody froth gushing out between his teeth were too horrid to be merely an amateur production put on to evoke pity.

Shen Qingqiu had just made up his mind to put aside his shock, revulsion, utter dismay, all-encompassing rage—the list could go on, he had a lot of emotions, none of them positive—regarding the little beast’s unexpected but inevitable betrayal and try to salvage him for interrogation, when Luo Binghe, the contrary little bastard, simply poofed out of existence.

Shen Qingqiu was left staring at the beast’s abandoned robes. He threw a surreptitious glance around, half-expecting to see a naked Luo Binghe streaking into the wilderness of Jue Di Gorge. No such luck—or maybe it was luck: Shen Qingqiu had no desire to see his disciple’s bits flapping around. Suppressing a shiver at the conjured image, he stepped closer to the pile of clothes and nudged it with the tip of his boot.

The pile trembled.

Stepping back in alarm, Shen Qingqiu raised Xiu Ya in a defensive position.

A small hand emerged from the pile. After some more internal tumbling, the hand disappeared and reappeared a few more times, but no other body part ever followed. The pile came to a standstill, and a small, plaintive cry rang out from its depths.

Is this for real? Shen Qingqiu thought, wishing to be anywhere but here.

He crept closer, and using Xiu Ya’s sheath, untangled the mess of disciple robes. Finally, the rest of the little beast emerged—for it was unquestionably the little beast, only tinier. A tiny beast. The baby—or toddler, Shen Qingqiu had no idea of the developmental classification of human whelps—blinked up at him with big star-black eyes. The recently awakened demon mark blazed blood-red in the middle of his forehead.

“Is this some kind of trick? Am I meant to feel pity for you now?” Shen Qingqiu scoffed.

The baby remained silent.

“Do you know who this master is?” Shen Qingqiu loomed over him.

The baby, once again, refused to acknowledge him.

Shen Qingqiu pointed an accusing finger at him. “Stop pretending! You can’t possibly expect to evade facing consequences for infiltrating my peak with such a cheap gimmick!”

The baby’s eyes fastened onto the finger, and with a bright smile raised his own hand to point at himself. “Bingbing!”

Shen Qingqiu narrowed his eyes. He grabbed the child under his armpits and held him above the bottomless chasm of the Endless Abyss. “Don’t play games with this master!”

Luo Binghe—or rather, Bingbing—kicked his feet with a delighted giggle. “Bingbing up!”

“For now, yes. But Bingbing will soon be down, if he doesn’t drop the act.”

The tiny beast kicked his feet some more, his dumpling-round face bereft of comprehension.

Cold dread pooled at the bottom of Shen Qingqiu’s stomach. Could the beast’s babyfication be genuine? The qi deviation preceding it had seemed real enough…

Shen Qingqiu peered over the edge of the abyss. If he had any sense, he would toss the little monster and wash his hands of this whole fiasco. But.

But!

But.

Ruthless bastard he might be, with multiple murders under his belt, there were still lines. Lines he did not wish to cross. Even if the wiggly whelp was a heavenly demon, one did not simply throw a toddler into the Endless Abyss and expect their karma not to plummet along with it.

Shen Qingqiu closed his eyes and sent the opposite of a prayer to the gods watching over him. He pulled in his arms so the tiny beast wasn’t dangling over the chasm anymore.

“If I am to take you back, we have to do something about this,” he said with a glare at the crimson demon mark. Pressing a thumb to the child’s forehead, he carefully suppressed the demonic energy coursing through the tiny body and pushed it behind a seal. When he removed his hand, Bingbing’s forehead was smooth and unblemished, no mark in sight.

Nodding in satisfaction, Shen Qingqiu picked up his disciple’s outshrank robes, and with a few strategic tears fashioned a little robe for the child. The rest he tossed into a qiankun pouch.

Deeming themselves ready to go, Shen Qingqiu placed the child on the ground. Bingbing wobbled a little, but remained standing. Good.

“Follow me,” Shen Qingqiu instructed.

The tiny beast obediently waddled after him. His short legs kept catching on the uneven patches of weedy grass, making his already tottering steps teeter even more. Shen Qingqiu watched from the corner of his eye as Bingbing faceplanted for the fourth time in half as many minutes.

Halting, Shen Qingqiu cursed out the Heavens. Still swearing under his breath, he picked up the stumbling child and sat him on his hip; he’d seen parents carry their precious progeny in this manner many times when he’d used to beg on the streets.

As they made their way through the jungle, Bingbing kept glancing up at his Shizun’s face and down at the arm around him, his little brain visibly struggling to connect two distant dots in his less-than-half-developed mind.

“Are you Mama?” is what he finally ended up asking.

Spluttering, Shen Qingqiu turned an incredulous look at him. “Do I look like—? No! I am your Shizun!”

The tiny beast stared up at him with the slack-jawed incomprehension only seen on the faces of very small children and the extremely intoxicated.

Shen Qingqiu pointed at him. “Bingbing.”

“Bingbing!” Bingbing agreed.

He pointed at himself. “Shizun.”

The child’s eyes emptied of conscious thought once again.

“Bingbing. Shizun,” Shen Qingqiu repeated a few more times, willing himself to scrounge up his last shreds of patience.

“Bingbing,” said the toddler with confidence. A short pause, then a small sticky hand pressed against Shen Qingqiu’s chin. “Shi…”

“Shizun. Say, Shizun!”

“Shishoon!”

Shen Qingqiu let out a long sigh. “Good enough.”

*

The monthly Peak Lord meeting had descended into a cacophony of back-handed insults and hissed accusations. The cause? Money, as usual. Though cultivators presented themselves as above such mortal matters, nothing brought out the savage animals still hiding within these lofty immortals faster than having their budgets cut.

In the midst of thinly veiled barbs and self-righteous justifications a single peppy voice piped up: “Shishoon! Bingbing snack please!”

The verbal mud-slinging petered out as everyone turned to stare in incredulous wonder as their usually foul tempered shixiong produced, seemingly out of nowhere, a plate of apple slices.

“Eat slowly,” Shen Qingqiu said to the child sitting on his lap. In a futile attempt to keep the whelp’s clothes clean—or at least cleanish—he tucked a handkerchief into Bingbing’s collar.

“Mn!” Despite his agreement, Bingbing was already double wielding two slices, intent on stuffing both into his mouth at the same time. Shen Qingqiu let him—If the brat ended up choking on his own greed, Mu Qingfang was only an arm’s reach away.

Turning over the finance report handed out by Shang Qinghua, he used the sheaf of paper as a shield against the spittle of apple juice that would inevitably erupt from the child’s enthusiastic fruit consumption. At first, he’d been horrified by the tiny beast’s monstrous table manners, believing it to be unquestionable proof of his demonic heritage, but his friends at the Warm Red Pavilion soon reassured him that it was perfectly normal behavior: children under the age of four were simply like that.

Shang Qinghua clicked his tongue. “Shixiong, is it truly necessary for your… disciple… to attend the meeting with you?”

The An Ding Peak Lord’s dry tone clearly conveyed his opinion on the child’s dubious origins. Judging from the numerous side-eyed glances being thrown at the munching munchkin, most of their martial siblings shared his doubts.

When Shen Qingqiu had emerged from the arena of the Immortal Alliance Conference with a toddler on his hip, and announced that it was, in fact, his very disciple that currently occupied the number one position on the leaderboard, many onlookers had suspected foul play.

The melodramatically inclined believed that Shen Qingqiu, overcome by grief over the loss of his most promising disciple, had snatched up the first available infant and projected his heartbreak onto it. The small detail of where exactly he’d gotten the child from was never addressed, the gossipers usually trailing off into a jumbled mumble at this point, only to launch into a new round of wailing over the poor bereaved immortal master.

On the other hand, people more familiar with the Qing Jing Peak Lord’s reputation were firmly convinced that this was Shen Qingqiu’s way of opportunistically sneaking his bastard child into the Sect without revealing its dishonorable parentage. While this theory had gained the most traction within Cang Qiong Mountain, the question of why and how the whelp came to be at the conference at that exact moment remained a mystery yet unanswered.

A rare few, chief among them Yue Qingyuan, accepted Shen Qingqiu’s explanation without any follow up questions. And in the end, this was the only opinion that mattered.

“Yes, it is necessary,” Shen Qingqiu sniffed primly in answer to Shang Qinghua’s pointed question. “Last month I left him with my disciples, and under their careless supervision Bingbing had swallowed a wasp!”

“Huh? Did it not suit the little princeling’s palate? You should shelter him less, shixiong,” drawled Shang Qinghua.

“Actually,” Mu Qingfang interrupted with a frown, “accidental ingestion of stinging insects is highly dangerous for small children. If the wasp had stung the tongue, or worse, the inside of the throat, the child could have easily suffocated before help arrived.” The crease between his brows deepened. “Surely, you wouldn’t wish such harm upon our cute xiao shizhi?”

Shang Qinghua flinched as his fellow Peak Lords, who had been content to nod along as he called out Shen Qingqiu, now turned hostile looks upon him.

“Thank you, Mu-shidi.” Shen Qingqiu hid a smile behind his fan; oh, how glorious it was to watch the others’ fickle nature turn on somebody else other than him!

As if to further condemn Shang Qinghua in the eyes of his peers, Bingbing chose this moment to offer up the last piece of apple with a bright, beaming smile: “Shishoon snack too!”

The observing Peak Lords melted at the adorable display; how could anyone in possession of a beating heart wish harm upon such a pure, innocent child??

“Thank you, Bingbing, very kind of you,” Shen Qingqiu praised the toddler with a rare, serene smile. From under his lashes, he flashed a smug look towards Shang Qinghua.

Watch and learn, shidi. This is how you play to an audience!

*

That night Shen Qingqiu prepared for bed with a glow of self-satisfaction around him. His martial siblings were simply too easy: put a cute baby in front of them and their brains puddled into goo, long-held resentments forgotten in a snap of a finger.

Pathetic.

Shen Qingqiu glanced down at the dozing child in his bed—he had long given up trying to force Bingbing into separate sleeping arrangements—and tucked in the edges of the small blanket around his shoulders.

Nearly four months had passed since the disastrous Immortal Alliance Conference, and Luo Binghe still persisted at being a baby—or a toddler; Shen Qingqiu kept forgetting to look up the distinction between the two.

It was beginning to look like a permanent arrangement.

I didn’t sign up for this. Shen Qingqiu poked a finger at the small hand sticking out from beneath the richly embroidered silk. Bingbing’s hand reflexively closed around the digit. You were supposed to turn back after a week or two, then get out of my life forever. I was even going to be nice about kicking you off my peak—just a little maiming, nothing fatal! Tch, so typical of you to waste your Shizun’s kindness by refusing to cooperate with his plans. Ungrateful whelp.

Still, it wasn’t all bad. The company of the tiny beast was much more tolerable than the older beast’s had ever been. It’s because disciples join the sect at their worst stage of life, Shen Qingqiu ruminated. Around twelvish, children were at their most obnoxious, with little wit and a whole lot of emotions. Horrible. Simply horrible.

Tiny spouts like Bingbing were a lot more straightforward. Though they were dumb, sticky, and required a lot more effort to keep alive, they exuded the guileless charm of a pet, and Shen Qingqiu had always been fond of animals. Much cuter than teenage brats too.

Plus, the thought of raising a heavenly demon from scratch, loyal to him and him alone, appealed to Shen Qingqiu on a deep, visceral level. Once regrown—this time trained right—Luo Binghe would be a powerful, game-sweeping card hidden up his Shizun’s sleeve.

Shen Qingqiu twitched his finger, his lips involuntarily pulling up into a smile when Bingbing’s grip tightened around it.

Just you and me, tiny beast. The two of us against the world.

*

But of course, life couldn’t be that simple: just when Shen Qingqiu resigned himself to a future of demon taming, Luo Binghe, the contrary little bastard, poofed back into his grownup self.

Chapter Text

Rays of light felt along the eastern horizon like tentative fingers, grass blades sagged under the sparkling weight of morning dew, a choir of sleepy birds called out chirping greetings, and Luo Binghe didn’t give a shit about any of these. The awakening glory of mother nature could not touch his heart, shrouded as it was by a thick fog of melancholy.

Shen Qingqiu made a shooing motion at him. “Alright, go on!”

The pair of them stood at the foot of Cang Qiong Mountain, far from the Main Entrance and the popular spots used by disciples to sneak in and out. For a border between mortals and mystical cultivators, the hillside looked innocuous, almost boring.

“Come on, run along!” Shen Qingqiu was on the brink of throwing a stick and hoping his disciple sprinted after it. Why won’t the stubborn fool move already?

“Must I leave, Shizun?” Luo Binghe asked in a lost voice.

“I already explained that your parting is unavoidable.”

Luo Binghe frowned. “You did?”

“To Bingbing,” Shen Qingqiu huffed. Though the little tyke hadn’t exactly made an attentive audience, distracted as he’d been by chewing up a tassel gifted to him by Ning Yingying.

“That’s…” Luo Binghe trailed off. He screwed his eyes shut in concentration. “I cannot recall the past—what was it? Four months?—clearly. I only know that whenever I was with Shizun I felt… safe. Warm.” He opened his eyes, a wondering, awed smile flitting across his face. “Happy. Very much happy.”

“Well. That is that and this is this,” Shen Qingqiu mumbled from behind his fan. He was not hiding! He simply felt like covering most of his face. For aesthetics. “This master is not a monster, so of course I would be more, ah, lenient with a baby. Toddler. You could toddle, so it must be the second, yes? I never ended up checking.” Mortified by his sudden bout of rambling, Shen Qingqiu bit the tip of his tongue.

Placing a hand against his heart, Luo Binghe bowed towards his master. “This disciple thanks Shizun for his kindness.” He straightened up. “And I would gracelessly ask for even more of it. Please, Shizun, is there truly no place for me by your side?”

The little beast’s voice wobbled on the last word, and Shen Qingqiu had to clench every muscle in his body not to act on the instinctive reaction ingrained into him in the past months and to swoop in with a comforting head pat.

“You are a heavenly demon,” he gritted out. “The seal I put on you was strong enough to keep your demonic qi at bay as a child, but I can sense that it’s barely holding itself together now. It could break in a week, a day, or a mere shichen.”

“Shizun…” Luo Binghe’s lower lip trembled dangerously. Shen Qingqiu quickly averted his eyes, valiantly resisting the urge to reach into his pocket for a milk candy.

"If you stay and the seal breaks, what do you think will happen to the sect's reputation? To my reputation?”

The little beast’s shoulders slumped. In a quiet, defeated voice he asked, “So this is goodbye?”

“For now.”

You fool! Shen Qingqiu railed against himself. What do you mean “For now”?? This was your cue to solemnly kick the brat to the curb!

“What this master means is—" His attempt to backpedal got stuck in his throat. Though Luo Binghe’s face was thinner, sharper, more handsome than cute, the star-black eyes were unmistakably Bingbing’s, and Shen Qingqiu couldn’t bring himself to shatter the fragile hope reflected within them.

Weak, he seethed at himself. Soft, pathetic, good for nothing.

Steeling himself against this newfound chink in his armor, Shen Qingqiu raised his chin. “If you want to reestablish relations with Cang Qiong Mountain, this master advises conquering some territories in the demon realm in order to offer our Sect a beneficial peace treaty. Make dealing with you worth our while.”

Luo Binghe’s lips thinned as he considered the proposal. Putting his hands together, he offered another bow, a tad shallower than the one before. “Shizun is wise.”

Time slowed to a standstill. Unbeknownst to the pair of master and disciple, their fate teetered on a knife’s edge, their future splitting into two distinct paths. On one, Luo Binghe’s feelings for Shen Qingqiu would cool with time, become mellow, disinterested: he’d experienced both profound cruelty and kindness at the man’s hands, and would consider them even. Consider them done. The title Shizun would leave the future Demon Lord’s lips with a wry smile, his tone holding nothing but a distant, perhaps nostalgic, sense of respect.

On the other path, Shizun would become a plea, a prayer, a confession. A whisper of beloved, a promise of belonging. Everything the other future could never hope to be.

Heart beating in his throat, Luo Binghe searched Shen Qingqiu’s face for the warmth he remembered from his time as a child, but was met with only a cold, dispassionate gaze. Ignoring the painful tightness in his chest, he turned away.

The scale of their fates tipped towards banal neutrality.

Luo Binghe took a fortifying breath. He lifted his leg: the first step on his journey to the demon realm, his journey away from the cultivation world. Away from Cang Qiong Mountain and Qing Jing Peak. Away from… away from Shizun.

“Wait,” Shen Qingqiu called after him. With brisk steps he caught up with his disciple. “I already have this prepared, so might as well give it to you. Better than leaving it to waste.”

Baffled, Luo Binghe lowered his gaze at the box Shen Qingqiu had thrust against his chest. He grabbed it gingerly, fingers brushing against his Shizun’s in the process. After a moment of hesitation, he lifted the lid.

Oh.

Oh, Shizun.

“Thank you, I will cherish it,” Luo Binghe vowed with a tremendous smile.

Shen Qingqiu pursed his lips, confused by the sudden upturn in Luo Binghe’s mood, and utterly unaware that he’d just sealed their fates with a handful of apple slices cut to the shape of bunny rabbits.

Chapter Text

The bright orange thread pulled tight, and Shen Qingqiu snipped it with a precise application of qi. He held up his finished creation to give it a critical once over. The dark blue silk of the robe shimmered in the flickering candle light, a school of delicately embroidered goldfish frolicking in bright contrast across its surface.

Excellent craftsmanship. And completely useless; it would hang short on anyone much taller than three feet. A robe only fit for dolls.

Or a baby, a small insidious voice whispered in Shen Qingqiu’s mind. Perhaps a toddler?

Shen Qingqiu shook his head, disgusted with the remnants of sentimentality still hooked into his soul. Yes, he had originally begun working on the robe when the tiny beast was in his care, but after his disciple transformed back, he’d banished the vestment into the bottom of a drawer. There was simply no point to its existence anymore.

The robe’s exile had lasted until the middle of winter, when in a fit of restless frustration Shen Qingqiu dug it up and added two more fish to the existing six. Embarrassed by this display of purposeless melodrama, Shen Qingqiu stuffed the robe deep inside a chest of useless trinkets and swore to forget all about it.

A mere three weeks later, the robe had ten fish on it. No matter how many times Shen Qingqiu put it away for good, it always found its way back into his lap, gaining yet another little creature at the tip of his trusty needle. Most tellingly, not once had he tried to dispose of it by tossing it in the garbage—what if an overeager disciple actually burnt it with the other trash?

In the end, it became his go-to meditative exercise whenever his mood took a turn for the worse: His disciples acted a tad too inept and obtuse that day? Make a fish. His fellow Peak Lords were proving themselves to be complete cretins again? A pair of frolicking friends. Yue Qingyuan breathed in his direction? Time for detail work on bright little scales.

It was shockingly effective at relaxing his mind, and he’d spent a year sporadically working on it, only taking it out on the direst days. Stitch by colorful stitch, it never failed to lull him into peace.

Regretfully, it could not last forever. The small robe had steadily filled up, until Shen Qingqiu, just now, tied off the thread of the very last goldfish. There was enough space to crowd in some more, but that would upset the delicate balance of the eye-pleasing, flowing pattern. No, the robe had reached perfect fish density, and Shen Qingqiu would not tarnish it.

He stared forlornly at his finished creation. Should he sell it? Give it away? The thought left a sour taste in his mouth. With a sigh, he folded the robe and placed it next to his pillow.

After putting his threads and needles safely away on the bedside table, he drew the thick comforter gifted to him by his friend at the Warm Red Pavilion over his shoulders, and bundled in for the night. Maybe he would dream up the answer to what he should do with the beautiful little robe, full of playful fish, bereft of owner.

*

A shiver ran up Shen Qingqiu’s spine, and he grouchily shuddered awake. He lay curled in a tight ball under his comforter, only the tip of his nose poking out. He fervently wished it wasn’t, as it was in the process of freezing off his face. Why was it so damn cold in here? The protective arrays around the bamboo house should be keeping the chill of early spring at bay. Did it fail? He should get up and check on it.

Shen Qingqiu tucked his hands into his armpits, curling up more. Any minute now, and he would leave the bed. Just a second. A moment more.

Right on the cusp of dozing back, he startled himself awake with a sneeze. Ugh, fine! He was getting up! Kicking with profound disgruntlement at the comforter, he rolled himself out from his cozy cocoon.

He froze in place—in shock, not from the cold, though it was a strong contender.

A tall shadow loomed over the side of his bed, silent like a winter night.

Swiftly, without hesitation, Shen Qingqiu tossed his blanket at the intruder to cut line of sight. With his other hand he summoned Xiu Ya, and deftly aimed his sword to strike in the same direction. He was halfway out of bed when an icy blast tossed him back. A large hand grabbed him by the back of the neck and held him down.

“Peace,” a deep voice commanded as icicle-like claws dig into his skin.

“What do you want?” Shen Qingqiu spat. “Sneaking in like a coward to attack someone asleep!”

“This is not an attack,” came the reply. The grip on Shen Qingqiu’s neck twitched—his assailant, perhaps, becoming self-conscious of the contrast between his words and actions. “This is a delivery. You attacked first, I merely defended.”

“Delivery? By a demon to a Peak Lord?” Shen Qingqiu sneered. Now that he was fully awake, it was obnoxiously obvious that the unnatural chill in the air was demonic in nature. How could he have missed it?

The ice demon fell quiet. It felt less like a silent threat, and more like he was simply lost for words.

“If you are truly here with no ill intentions, then prove it by letting me go,” Shen Qingqiu said.

“Will you attack?”

“Only if you give me reason to.”

The demon took his time to mull this over. After a minute that felt like an eternity, the icy claws pinning Shen Qingqiu down finally retracted. He straightened up, primly fixing the collar of his rumpled sleeping robes before turning to acknowledge the demon.

The intruder had backed away, his arms hanging loosely by his side. Shen Qingqiu’s eyes flickered to the blue mark on his forehead. A demon noble. No wonder he was so casual about taking on a Peak Lord. Powerwise he was on a whole other level compared to the common demonic filth that cultivators were tasked with exterminating.

Heart pounding, Shen Qingqiu wondered how long it would take for help to arrive if he activated the emergency talisman taped to the underside of the bedside table. Would anyone even come? He hoped that the demon’s mysterious ‘delivery’ only extended to him, and his disciples would be left well alone.

“So? What is it?” he demanded, doing his best to keep his voice even. It’s not that he was afraid—no, he was far beyond the fear of death by now, but his thin sleeping garments offered no protection against the cold permeating the room, and he had to repress his body’s instinct to shiver by sheer force of will.

The ice demon blinked, slow and cat-like. “It’s troublesome,” he proclaimed before opening a portal within his own shadow. He reached in an arm, pulled through a sizable bundle of pelts, and tossed it on top of the bed.

“I’m told you know what to do,” were the parting words of Shen Qingqiu’s unexpected guest before he stepped into the shadows and disappeared. The chill in the air eased up immediately.

Inhaling deeply, Shen Qingqiu counted down from ten, then approached the ‘delivery’ with a healthy amount of wariness. It looked like a pile of exquisite pelts, made from rare, exotic creatures native to the Northern Deserts. Why would the demon break into Cang Qiong Mountain just to leave this with him? Was it a gift? A trap? A threat? Shen Qingqiu could make no sense of it.

He experimentally nudged the pile with his sword. It trembled in response.

Shen Qingqiu had the unsettling notion that, not too long ago, he’d experienced something eerily similar. Sheathing Xiu Ya, he untangled the bundle of pelts by hand. He wished he could say he was surprised by his discovery, but that would be a lie, and he tried not to make a habit of lying to himself.

Within the cocoon of priceless animal furs, dumpling cheeks dimpled with a delighted grin: “Shishoon!”

Chapter Text

Shen Qingqiu leaned back in his seat, and with a resigned sigh gave up on today’s lesson. His students were supposed to show off their progress on the complicated guqin piece they’d been instructed to perfect by the spring equinox, but the rehearsal got mercilessly derailed by their miniaturized shidi.

Galvanized by the beautiful tunes—well, the supposedly beautiful tunes, they were not exactly up to snuff under the clumsy fingers of disciples—Bingbing got into his head to dance along with his martial siblings’ performance. He took utmost delight in flapping his long sleeves about, as the waving motion made the embroidered goldfish appear like they were swimming.

The guqin demonstration had quickly descended into chaos: a circle of giggling disciples clapping along to a toddler’s waddling interpretive dance. What a sham. Shen Qingqiu ought to send the whole bunch to the disciplinary hall and make them reflect on their unbecoming behavior.

“Shishoon, look!” Bingbing called out between two twirls. “Bingbing is a pond!”

“That you are,” Shen Qingqiu dryly agreed. “Try not to trip over your feet, Pondpond.” Seeing that his warning went unheeded, he tacked on, “You don’t want to fall on your fish and hurt them.”

“Oh!” Bingbing immediately wobbled to a stop. He raised a dangling sleeve, and one by one petted the embroidery. “Fishies no worry, Bingbing is good pond!”

The surrounding disciples let out a collective coo.

“More like a puddle, that one. Right, shixiong?” came the unwelcome voice of Shang Qinghua from the entrance of the classroom. The An Ding Peak Lord was leaning against the door frame, a slimy grin across his face. “Well, I will be damned, the rumors were right: the prodigal son has returned!”

Shen Qingqiu kept facing forward, not even glancing at his visitor. “’Shang-shidi, what a pleasant surprise’ would be the proper white lie to tell now, correct?”

“Don’t strain yourself, shixiong. I’m fully aware that polite pleasantries are above your paygrade.”

“Quite right. And since we are on the same page,” Shen Qingqiu graced Shang Qinghua with his fakest, least sincere smile, “would you please, oh so kindly, get off my peak?”

Shang Qinghua pushed himself off the wall with an amused snort, and sauntered inside the classroom. Like a startled flock of birds, the Qing Jing disciples scattered out of his way, leaving Bingbing on his own in front of the Peak Lord.

Shang Qinghua put his hands on his knees to lean down to the child. “And where have you been, hmm? Your disappearance has caused quite a fuss. Did your Mama take you home?”

Bingbing popped a thumb into his mouth and sucked on it in deep thought. With his free hand he pointed at Shen Qingqiu. “Not Mama. Shishoon!” That distinction had been made perfectly clear to Bingbing at their first meeting.

“I’m sorry to hear,” smarmed Shang Qinghua, misinterpreting Bingbing’s words to mean he was a half-orphan. “If not with your Mama, then where were you?”

“Stop fishing for information!” snapped Shen Qingqiu.

Shang Qinghua gave him a wink over his shoulder. “Hush, shixiong, the right answer to this question could win someone a considerable amount of spirit stones!”

“Someone?” Shen Qingqiu grumbled. He wondered what kind of bet the slimy rat had made against the other Peak Lords.

Meanwhile Bingbing was done pondering over Shang Qinghua’s question and confidently declared, “Bingbing is here!”

“Yes, you are here now,” Shang Qinghua enunciated slowly. “But where were you while away from here?”

“Away?” Bingbing frowned around his thumb. “Bingbing away from Shishoon?” Face crumpling in distress, he scampered past Shang Qinghua, and beelined straight to Shen Qingqiu’s seat at the front of the classroom. Raising both arms in the universal sign of ‘baby wants up’, he whimpered, “No! Shishoon no away!”

Shen Qingqiu picked up the blubbering child and sat him across his knees. “There, there, tiny beast, no snotting on your Shizun’s robes.” He turned an accusing glare at Shang Qinghua. “See what you did now! Bad shidi!”

“Ba-bad shidi,” Bingbing repeated between sniffles.

Sensing the dozens of daggers being glared at him by the gathered Qing Jing disciples, Shang Qinghua raised his hands in a placating gesture. “My bad, my bad. This master had no intention of upsetting your little puddle.”

With a jaunty wave over the shoulder, Shang Qinghua breezed out of the room like he’d been planning to leave anyway.

“Nosy piss-gurgler,” Shen Qingqiu muttered, knowing that his shidi’s enhanced hearing would pick it up.

“Bing—" sniffle, “Bingbing is not puddle!”

Setting aside her instrument, Ning Yingying hurried over with a kindly smile. “Of course not! Bingbing is a big river!”

That seemed to stump the child. “River?”

Ning Yingying nodded, bobbing her head with great exaggeration. “Your name, Binghe, means ‘icy river’, and the character ‘Luo’ comes from the Luo River. You are double river!”

Bingbing’s mouth formed a small, surprised ‘o’.

“Luo has fishies?” he asked the most important question.

“Mn! It has lots of fishermen bobbing along in their boats too.”

Squirming in excitement, Bingbing tugged at Shen Qingqiu’s collar. “Shishoon, you hear? Bingbing is big river! Full of fishies and boats!”

“Yes, very good.” Shen Qingqiu caught Ning Yingying’s eyes over the tufts of fluff sticking up from Bingbing’s head, and gave her a small nod. She accepted his unspoken gratitude with a humble bow, face alight with a decidedly unhumble grin.

Bingbing whipped his head around, looking left and right. “Go look? Bingbing go see Luo! With fishies and boats!”

Ning Yingying blinked down at him. “Oh, it’s not here.”

“River is outside,” Bingbing said wisely. He looked up at Shen Qingqiu. “Go out? See river? Please?”

Before Shen Qingqiu could gently dissuade him, Ning Yingying let out a loud giggle, “No, A-Luo—I mean, Bingbing. The Luo River is much farther away than that. It’s at least four days’ travel by carriage. You know carriages? Drawn by horsies?”

Bingbing had no care for carriages or horsies. His little mind was too busy processing his shijie’s previous statement. Brows scrunched, he narrowed his focus on one single word: “Away?”

“Ah,” Ning Yingying’s pupils narrowed to pinpricks as she realized her fatal mistake.

“Luo is away? Far-far?” Bingbing wailed as big fat tears rolled down his cheeks. “No! Away from Shishoon is bad! Bingbing want not be river!”

*

In the end, the disciples’ progress review was forcibly postponed due to an unexpected storm of unquenchable tears. Shen Qingqiu dismissed his fretting students with an impatient wave, and walked off with a hiccupping Bingbing in his arms.

“Will they be alright?” the disciples whispered among themselves.

“The poor thing was so distraught!”

“Tch, so annoying! I stressed over practicing for nothing!”

“Haaah, I can’t say I mind the extra time.”

“Ugh, I hope Shizun puts the brat at the bottom of a pond.”

“How can you say that! Bingbing is a sweetie pie!”

“It’s you who should get ponded!”

“Wait, what? I didn’t mean—”

“Ponded! Ponded! Ponded! Ponded! Ponded!”

“Noooo—!”

SPLASH!

Shen Qingqiu wished cultivation didn’t come with enhanced hearing; the quality of his life would be so much higher if he wasn’t constantly forced into the role of unwilling spectator to his students’ petty squabbles. Also, ‘get ponded’? That was nowhere near the proper usage of the verb. It was one thing for Bingbing to not grasp the nuances of grammar and sentence structure, his brain was like unbaked dough still, but his disciples were supposedly students of the four arts! A flock of future scholars should not be chanting ‘ponded’!

Shen Qingqiu made a mental note to instruct his hall masters to assign the students more text copying exercises. Their vocabulary would benefit greatly from some additional exposure to high literature.

Meanwhile Bingbing had finally quietened down. One small hand clung with an iron grip to Shen Qingqiu’s robe, while the other had its thumb enclosed between pursed lips. The thumb sucking seemed to be an anxiety response, so despite his misgivings about baby-saliva, Shen Qingqiu allowed it to go on for a bit longer.

He had the prickling suspicion that if he didn’t assuage the tiny beast’s fears in a quick and effective manner, the child would end up with a bad case of separation anxiety.

Who am I kidding? He already has it in abundance. At this point I can only mitigate the damage, or else… Shen Qingqiu shuddered as he imagined a future where Bingbing broke into sobs whenever Shen Qingqiu so much as hinted at leaving his line of sight—including visits to bathing and other private facilities.

If forced to live like that, Shen Qingqiu was guaranteed to snap. Someone would surely die—not Bingbing, he wouldn’t touch a hair on his fluffy head, but someone.

“What do you say we stave off your Shizun’s potential murder rampage by shoring up your spirits, Bingbing?”

The toddler agreeably slurped on his thumb.

Now, how to go about it? After some consideration, Shen Qingqiu aimed his steps towards the lower gardens. A short stroll later they found themselves on a low, sloping bridge. Shen Qingqiu took Bingbing off his hip and dangled him above the water.

“Bingbing, this is the Green Star Lotus Pond. Say hello!”

“Hello,” said Bingbing, staring in wonder at the large, white petals.

Shen Qingqiu let Bingbing kick his feet in the air a few times, then hoisted him back up. As they passed through the garden, he rattled off a few interesting facts about the surrounding plants, pointing out oddly colored stems and leaf shapes as they went. They soon crossed a paved road and arrived at another pond.

Shen Qingqiu sat his charge on the railing. “Bingbing, this is the Quiet Reflection Pond. Say hello!” He waited for Bingbing to do so. “People come here to meditate or to read in silence. So, no speaking while we go around, alright?”

“Mn!” To show his dedication to the cause, Bingbing put both hands over his mouth.

“Good boy.”

The lower gardens were a maze of narrow paths surrounded by verdant shrubbery, meticulously maintained to give the illusion of barely tamed wildness. If viewed from above, though, one would note that each ‘wild’ section was perfectly symmetrical, in perfect accordance with the principles of Feng Shui in order to create a sense of balance and harmony.

A smattering of perfectly rounded ponds broke up the lush scenery, accompanied by one or two pavilions near the edge, or in some cases built on top of the water itself, their only connection to the shore a small wooden bridge. Each pond had its own name and unique flora, and more often than not, housed a few goldfish within its shallow depths. Bingbing was most enthused by this last detail, and took to waving his sleeves over the water so his embroidered fish could make friends with the real ones.

After the third such meeting, he cupped a hand over his mouth to whisper: “My fishies are prettiest. But psst! Not make other fishies sad.”

Shen Qingqiu nodded in return, expression solemn, but internally tickled by the tiny beast’s concern over hurting the goldfish’ feelings.

Alas, the fish were soon dethroned in Bingbing’s heart by a croaking army of frogs. Clapping and giggling, he was delighted beyond all logical reason whenever one of the green creatures jumped from one lily pad to the other.

“Hop! Hop!” Bingbing mimicked with clumsy enthusiasm. At one point he tried to jump over to a lily pad himself, but Shen Qingqiu snatched him out of midair, just as his feet left the pier.

“No Bingbing, it’s too cold. You can play in the water during summer.”

If you are still around in summer, that is.

Shen Qingqiu shook off the oddly forlorn thought.

Bingbing puffed out his cheeks in a good imitation of a frog, but made no more fuss about his denied swimming lesson. He was an agreeable child like that; unlike the other denizens of Cang Qiong Mountain, Bingbing possessed the good sense not to throw tantrums over trivial matters. Shame, that a baby could act with more decorum than all the Peak Lords combined together.

A quarter of a shichen later, the tiny beast finally wore himself out. Shen Qingqiu made him wave goodbye to the frogs, and began their leisurely trek home to the bamboo cottage.

“Did you like saying hello to the ponds?”

“Mn!”

“Good. It’s only polite to introduce yourself as their new pond-brother.”

Bingbing pressed a plump cheek against Shen Qingqiu’s shoulder as he turned to look at him. “Pond-brother?”

“Yes? Afterall, didn’t you proclaim yourself a pond today?” said Shen Qingqiu.

A bout of silence passed as Bingbing mulled over the question. It had a big word in the middle he wasn’t sure what to do with, but he got the gist of it.

“Yingying say Bingbing is river,” he pouted.

“Yingying made a mistake. Your name’s meaning is river. You don’t have to be one,” Shen Qingqiu replied. “You can be a pond like you originally wanted.”

“With fishies.”

“Naturally.”

“Froggos too?”

“If you like,” Shen Qingqiu nodded. It would be child’s play for him to make another robe, this time embroidered with leaping frogs.

Or rather, a pair of frog slippers? he mused. That way Bingbing could have both his ‘fishies’ and ‘froggos’ on him at the same time.

The tiny beast bounced with excitement, almost slipping off his perch on Shen Qingqiu’s hip. “Then Bingbing pond!”

“Mn. And as you can see, we have many ponds here, all around Qing Jing Peak.”

“All round!” Bingbing agreed. An oddly thoughtful look settled on his tiny face. “Pond is here. Not away.”

“It’s right here, yes.”

“Here with Shishoon?” Bingbing asked, his big round eyes even bigger and rounder.

Tucking him closer, Shen Qingqiu pressed his cheek against the tiny beast’s—his tiny beast’s—fluffy mane.

“Yes, here with Shizun.”

Chapter Text

Turning a page in his book, Shen Qingqiu threw a surreptitious glance at Bingbing. The tiny beast sat on the pillow next to him with his head lolled to the side, long eyelashes flapping with languid resistance against the siren call of gravity.

Shen Qingqiu held back a sigh. He’d tried to send Bingbing off to bed two times already, but the child had stubbornly denied being sleepy. Shen Qingqiu turned to look out the window. The sun had sunk behind the western mountain ridges over a shichen ago; no more delay, it was time for small folk to waltz into dreamland!

Placing his book to the side, Shen Qingqiu made a show of stretching his back and held up a sleeve to cover a fake yawn.

Bingbing’s head snapped up as if yanked by an invisible string. “Shishoon sleepy?”

“Only a little tired.” Shen Qingqiu faked another yawn. Contagious, Bingbing’s mouth involuntarily opened wide with a real one.

“Shishoon go sleepy aaa. Sleepy aaa means bed time,” said Bingbing.

“It’s called a yawn. I was yawning.”

“Shishoon yawn. Shishoon go bed!”

Bingbing tottered to his feet, woozy with exhaustion. He grabbed Shen Qingqiu’s sleeve and tugged him towards the bedchamber. Shen Qingqiu gamely followed.

At the door the tiny beast let go of his sleeve and ran to the bed to dig out the neatly folded sleeping robes hiding under the covers. Sprinting back to his Shizun, Bingbing offered up the clothes.

“Here, comfy sleepy!”

Shen Qingqiu thanked him. “Bingbing is very good at changing robes now, yes? Show your Shizun how to do it right.”

Bingbing’s tiny chest puffed out with pride. “Yes! Bingbing big boy now! Bingbing change robes very good! Show Shishoon!”

Shen Qingqiu held back a chuckle as the toddler scampered off to get his own sleeping robes, and pretended to take pointers from Bingbing’s demonstration.

Once they were both dressed in soft, light robes, Bingbing climbed on the bed and painstakingly peeled away one corner of the heavy comforter. He patted the uncovered spot in invitation, and Shen Qingqiu climbed in. Grunting with effort, Bingbing tucked in his Shizun. Once done, the tiny beast sat back on his haunches, resting on top of the covers by Shen Qingqiu’s left shoulder.

“Shishoon now sleep nice!” Bingbing leaned forward and smacked a kiss on Shen Qingqiu’s forehead. Call him heartless, but as touched as Shen Qingqiu was by Bingbing’s heartfelt gesture, he was mostly filled with relief that no baby drool accidentally dribbled into his hair.

Anyway, the trap was set: time to trick the child into lying down in it!

Creasing his brows, Shen Qingqiu looked up at Bingbing. “What if I have a bad dream?”

“Bingbing protect!” came the swift reply.

“How? For dreams you need to be in bed,” Shen Qingqiu reasoned.

Bingbing glanced around the big four-poster bed. “Bingbing in bed.”

“No, you are on the bed. To be in it, you have to be under the covers.”

The tiny beast made a thoughtful hmm-mm noise. Then rolled off the bed with a soft thud.

“Bingbing!” Shen Qingqiu exclaimed.

“Shishoon no scared! Bingbing protect!” came the high-pitched war cry from the foot of the bed.

Shen Qingqiu felt movement around his feet, then the pressure of a small body making its way up under the comforter. A minute later a fluffy black cloud popped up under his chin. After some futile wriggling, the mystery lump stilled.

“Bingbing stuck,” the lump informed him in a factual tone.

Shen Qingqiu obligingly drew down the comforter so its edge rested under Bingbing’s chin and not over his brows.

“Thank Shishoon!” Bingbing snuggled closer with a content sigh. His eyelids fluttered shut, and remained closed.

With one flick of Shen Qingqiu’s finger all the candles in the room went out, the only remaining light a night pearl glowing softly on the nightstand.

“Bing… protecc…Shish…shoon,” the tiny beast mumbled, each breath longer and deeper as he succumbed to sleep.

What a little idiot. Good thing he is cute.

*

Shen Qingqiu woke in the decidedly uncute presence of a big idiot.

As this was already the second time this had happened to him, his shock over finding himself in bed with a naked man remained muted, and he did not immediately make an attempt on Luo Binghe’s life like on the previous occasion.

Luo Binghe was stretched out on his side, his well-toned body on full display. Only a thin piece of fabric saved some of his modesty and left crucial details of his anatomy up to Shen Qingqiu’s imagination. Which he did not. Imagine, that is. He was not imagining anything in his ex-disciple’s private area, no matter how the lay of the fabric hinted at a size of—

Anyway! Last time the little beast at least had the grace to act embarrassed about the situation. Why wasn’t he flailing around in panic and covering up? Was that a smug smirk on his unfairly handsome face?

Ooh, yes it was. Bastard.

There was only one avenue left—besides murder—for Shen Qingqiu to save his paper-thin face and come out on top in this awkward situation. Closing his eyes, he called forth all that he’d learnt on Qing Jing Peak about acting like a wise immortal master.

And shoved it to the side.

It’s Xiao Jiu time.

He punched Luo Binghe in the throat.

Chapter Text

Shen Qingqiu took a sip from his cup, pointedly ignoring Luo Binghe’s painful grimace on the other side of the table as the young man valiantly forced a gulp of hot tea down his abused throat.

Shen Qingqiu pushed the kettle towards him. “Have some more. It’s herbal, good for you.”

Shoulders slumped, Luo Binghe poured himself another cup. He made no move to drink it, simply stared blankly at the bitter smelling steam wafting off the dark brown beverage. The deathlike pallor of his skin and the deep circles below his eyes gave him the aura of reanimated roadkill.

Shen Qingqiu hid a wince behind his cup. In hindsight, it was hard to feel justified hitting such an obviously ill person, even if the punch had felt well-deserved at the moment of throwing. He made an impatient gesture at Luo Binghe, who lifted his cup with a resigned expression. The little beast’s larynx bobbed with each shallow sip, the purple bruise across it already turning into blotchy shades of green thanks to the healing ability of his demon blood.

Too slow, thought Shen Qingqiu, In the legends Heavenly Demons could grow back their torn off limbs before the old one even hit the ground. Is his human half slowing the process?

“Why are you in pain?” he asked aloud.

Luo Binghe gave him a startled look. “Shizun punched me!”

“Yes. But why is it still bothering you?”

Luo Binghe turned away with a pout befitting a bullied maiden. “I thought we left on good terms! And then Shizun assaulted me! Sudden! Unprompted! Undeserved!”

“You were in my bed. Naked,” Shen Qingqiu pointed out.

“That’s out of my control! The change happens when it happens.”

Fair enough. But—

“You were smirking at me like a demented pervert.”

Luo Binghe ducked his head to hide his reddened cheeks. “I was trying to appear friendly.”

“A colossal failure.”

“I noticed,” the little beast muttered while rubbing a hand across his aching throat. He peered up at Shen Qingqiu through his lashes. “Still, a punch? Right off the bat? I’m hurt, Shizun!”

“Yes, but why?” Shen Qingqiu pressed.

Luo Binghe scowled. “I might be a half-demon but I still have feelings!”

Who’s talking about feelings?

“I don’t care about your feelings!” Shen Qingqiu snapped.

Luo Binghe slammed his cup on the table. “In that case, if Shizun would kindly excuse this disciple!” He stood up with an offended huff. And immediately toppled forward in a dead faint.

Quick as a snake, Shen Qingqiu snatched the cup and kettle from under Luo Binghe before he hit the table, so the young man landed with a dull thud instead of the shrill shatter of delicate porcelain.

“Big Bing, big trouble,” tutted Shen Qingqiu before resigning himself to physically hauling his bedraggled disciple back to bed.

*

Luo Binghe remained unconscious for almost a full day. When he finally emerged from his bundle of blankets, Shen Qingqiu deposited a bowl of watery congee in his lap.

“Eat. If you can keep it down, you can try an apple.”

The beast looked much better. His skin had lost its ghostly pallor and regained the glossy sheen of a healthy youth. His appetite left nothing to worry over either: Luo Binghe enthusiastically consumed the whole bowl, offering his heartfelt thanks between each slurped spoonful.

Barbaric. One year away from Qing Jing and look at his table manners!

Shen Qingqiu shook his head in disgust, and sat down in the chair next to the bed to cut up the promised apple.

Luo Binghe perked up. “Can it be bunnies?”

“You are not a child.”

“I’m sick.”

“You are basically all recovered.”

Luo Binghe coughed, faker than a merchant’s smile. “Am I?”

Shen Qingqiu’s hands stilled. He kept his eyes on the half-cut fruit. “Why are you here?”

“I already told Shizun, the change is not under my cont—”

“Cut the bullshit!” Shen Qingqiu hissed, turning an icy glare at him. “Why are you here? Why again as a child? Who was that demon who so effortlessly bypassed the Sect’s protections? Why did you look like you were about to keel over when you turned back to an adult?”

Luo Binghe leaned back with a pained smile. “Aiya, so many questions.” He placed the empty blow aside and chewed on his lower lip, deep in thought. After a few seconds of excruciating silence he said, “If I am to answer truthfully, Shizun must understand that I tell him all this in utmost confidence.”

Shen Qingqiu pursed his lips. “I cannot promise my silence. Not if your actions bring harm to the Sect.”

Luo Binghe gave a dismissive wave. “They shouldn’t. At least, that was never my intention. If Shizun finds that I am somehow endangering Cang Qiong Mountain, I assure him it’s merely an oversight on my part and I apologize in advance.”

That sounded reasonable. Shen Qingqiu nodded his assent.

“The demon Shizun met is called Mobei-Jun. He stands to inherit the Northern Kingdom and he is my… hmm, something between a comrade and a subordinate?” Luo Binghe shrugged. “I’m still getting the hang of how social relationships work in the Demon Realm. All Shizun needs to know is that Mobei-Jun is loyal to me, and more often than not is amenable to following my orders.”

Shen Qingqiu arched an eyebrow. “And when he is not amenable?”

“Then I know I’m about to do something insanely foolish,” Luo Binghe replied. “Like forcing my body into overdrive to defeat a whole army alone and driving myself into a controlled qi deviation.”

“Your subordinate is correct, that is insanely foolish. There is no such thing as a controlled qi deviation, you could have died!”

Luo Binghe leaned forward, eyes alight with either brilliance or madness. “It should be impossible, yes. But one, I’m a Heavenly Demon, even if only partially: impossible doesn’t hold the same meaning for me as for others. Two, I’ve already, by accident, found a way to minimize the most severe side effects of a qi deviation by diverting the misaligned energies into a compact, less developed form.”

“Bingbing.”

“Yes… Bingbing,” Luo Binghe agreed, tongue stumbling over the cutesy nickname.

Shen Qingqiu frowned. “Still, it’s extremely dangerous, not to mention damaging to your health. No wonder you looked like a dead man walking.”

Luo Binghe winced. “It did drain my qi reserves till the very dregs on the bottom. Even my healing ability took a hit. After I turned back, it took nearly a full day for it to regain its usual rate.”

Finally, an answer to Shen Qingqiu’s question from the day before! Why couldn’t the little beast simply lay it out like this yesterday, instead of throwing a needless hissy fit over feelings or whatever?

His brain was probably still damaged from the forced qi deviation.

“If turning back is this difficult, why not stay a child longer?” Shen Qingqiu asked with absolutely no ulterior motive at all. “Last time, when you stayed Bingbing for four months, you seemed well enough.”

“I can’t,” Luo Binghe sighed. “I had a healer look into the feasibility of this technique before I attempted it—I’m not entirely foolish—and she advised me to keep the transformation at one, maximum one and a half weeks. Anything over that exponentially raises the risk of getting stuck as a toddler forever.”

“What a shame that would be,” droned Shen Qingqiu. “Still, is this the best you could come up with as a method of power grabbing?”

Pausing, Luo Binghe wet his lower lip.

“There was something,” he admitted. “I took a trip to the Endless Abyss to assess my abilities. See if I could survive a month or two. Apparently, it’s a rite of passage for Heavenly Demons to live through hell and return stronger for it.” His lips turned up in a wry smile. “It wasn’t exactly a choice. I had to go in order to remove the stigma of my human blood.”

Shen Qingqiu remained silent.

“Near the end of my trip I stumbled upon the corpse of some gigantic creature. Within its rotting belly I found the skeleton of a man, and in his chest a sword as dark as an eclipse. It promised me glory and power beyond imagination. As if it could read my mind, it described my deepest desires and showed me how it would feel when I achieved it all. The only thing it asked in return was to be wielded, to cut and slash freely as it desired, to drink the blood of my enemies and bathe in their terror as they fell beneath our blade.”

As he spoke, Luo Binghe’s eyes glazed over, as if still trapped in the visions the sword had conjured up for him. Anxious, Shen Qingqiu laid a hand on his arm.

“What did you do?”

Luo Binghe snapped out of his reverie. He gave a bewildered look at Shen Qingqiu’s hand and broke out in a wide smile. Shen Qingqiu snatched it back as if burned.

“Don’t worry, Shizun, I threw it back where I found it. If I was a tad more desperate then maybe—but no, the deal was simply too good to be true. It stank of deception.”

“Good,” said Shen Qingqiu, sitting primly like a self-conscious cat. “Because I’m pretty sure you somehow managed to stumble upon the long-lost legendary sword Xin Mo, Scourge of the Three Realms.”

“That’s what my later research led me to believe as well.” Luo Binghe scrunched his nose in disgust. “Good riddance.”

“Instead, you came up with the harebrained scheme of min-maxing your demonic abilities,” grumbled Shen Qingqiu. “What happens if you run out of time and poof into Bingbing right in front of your enemies?”

“Mobei-Jun has me covered. He can teleport using his shadows.”

“So I’ve seen.” Shen Qingqiu narrowed his eyes. “Tell me again, how did the numerous sophisticated layers of protective arrays fail to raise the alarm during his ‘delivery’?”

Luo Binghe held up his hands. “That’s not my doing, Shizun. He tells me he’s been coming and going from the Sect for years thanks to—well, that’s not my information to give.”

“He has a spy,” deadpanned Shen Qingqiu.

“Well…” hedged Luo Binghe.

“It’s Shang Qinghua.”

“Aiya, Shizun is simply too smart to keep secrets from,” was the indirect admission.

I knew it! That turd breathing inverted slug of a man has been spying on us for decades! Oh, once I get my hands on him!!

Luo Binghe let his head fall back with a sigh. “Since he is the subordinate of my subordinate, I might as well assign him to Shizun during my stay.”

“Wonderful. I’m sure my dearest shidi will be delighted to be of use.” Shen Qingqiu’s tone left no doubt that any delight felt by Shang Qinghua would come only from the sweet release of death. He pointed a finger at Luo Binghe. “And what do you mean by ‘during your stay’? Just how long do you plan to take up your Shizun’s bed?”

Luo Binghe opened his mouth, and immediately snapped it shut. Shaking his head at himself, he said, “I don’t mean to impose. In a shichen or so I’m good to go. By ‘my stay’ I meant Bingbing’s next visit.”

“His what.”

“Even with my talent, it takes more than one battle to conquer the Demon Realm. I was hoping Shizun would help me out by taking care of me while I’m… indisposed by age.” While uttering his audacious request, the little beast’s eyes flicked to the chest on the other side of the bed. On top of it, folded neatly in half, lay a dark blue little robe full of brightly colored fish.

Shen Qingqiu was lost for words.

It didn’t last.

“Are you out of your mind? Conquer the Demon—why? And you want to involve me?”

Luo Binghe frowned. “It was Shizun who told me to conquer as many territories as I can in order to establish a treaty with Cang Qiong Mountain.”

When did I say that?? Wait…

Hazy wisps of recollection emerged from a year ago of their parting at the foot of the mountain. A shiver of ‘consequences of my own actions’ ran down Shen Qingqiu’s spine.

I did spout some bullshit like that, but only to stave off his awkward blubbering! He was not meant to take my words to heart!!

“Right. I remember,” he squeezed out between tightly pressed lips.

The little beast relaxed. “Of course, I don’t wish to unwillingly burden Shizun with such a task. If he cannot look after little-me, I’m sure Shang-shishu would—”

The memory of an upset, teary Bingbing hiding away behind his robes from ‘Bad-shidi’ flashed across Shen Qingqiu’s mind.

“No need. This master takes full responsibility.”

“It’s a deal, then.” Luo Binghe’s answering smile was as charming as it was dangerous.

He is up to something. I don’t think he is lying, but he isn’t telling everything.

Shen Qingqiu raised his chin. “In exchange for aid rendered, my Sect will receive beneficial treatment from your future kingdom.”

Luo Binghe bowed his head. “Of course. My Empire will be nothing but gracious to its allies.”

“Empire,” repeated Shen Qingqiu with a sardonic laugh. “Why am I not surprised that mere royalty is not enough for such a greedy fool. Must you aim straight up at the title of Emperor?” Not waiting for an answer, he stood up with a fluid motion and tossed a plate into Luo Binghe’s lap. “Your apple snack, O Great Conqueror!”

As he strode out of the room, Shen Qingqiu heard a joyous exclamation, then the crunch of a bunny-slice falling victim to its natural predator, the little beast.

Chapter Text

Less than a month after Luo Binghe had left Qing Jing Peak for the second time, Shen Qingqiu returned home from his morning classes to an unnatural chill in the air.

“Mobei-Jun,” he called out.

The shadows in the corner of the room deepened and resolved into the hulking form of the ice demon. Dangling from his grip by an ankle was none other than the tiny beast.

Forgetting his caution, Shen Qingqiu hastened to the demon’s side, arms outstretched.

“What are you doing?” he cried, snatching Bingbing away and sitting him properly on his hip. “That’s not how you handle a child! Even I know that!”

Mobei-Jun’s face remained impassive. “It’s the demon way.”

“He is only half-demon, so dial it back!”

“Hi Shishoon!” chirped Bingbing.

“Good morning, sprout,” Shen Qingqiu greeted back, subtly checking him for signs of other mishandling.

Taking advantage of the immortal’s momentary distraction, Mobei-Jun reached into the shadows and pulled out Shang Qinghua by the scruff of his neck. “Junshang said to lend him to you while he is in recovery.”

Seeing that Shen Qingqiu wasn’t scrambling to take Shang Qinghua off his hand, Mobei-Jun unceremoniously dropped him. The An Ding Peak Lord landed on his feet, strategically teetering to the side to put Mobei-Jun between himself and his murderously gleeful martial brother.

“How wonderful to see you, Shang-shidi,” purred Shen Qingqiu. “I’ve been looking to talk to you for the past few weeks, but somehow we kept evading each other. What a shame, right?”

Shang Qinghua gulped. “It can’t be helped, shixiong, An Ding’s schedule is—”

“—extremely busy, especially with the added burden of spying for your demonic master. Poor, poor overburdened Shang-shidi. This shixiong will take care of you from now on.”

During his speech Shen Qingqiu seated himself in a high back chair, crossed his legs, and with one hand began to menacingly pet Bingbing’s fluff. The toddler perched on his lap idly kicked his feet, unaware or uncaring of the one-sided powerplay taking place above his head.

Shen Qingqiu glanced down at the child. “So this is your Junshang, shidi? Hmmm.” He cocked his head to the side in a show of curious concern. “Don’t you feel awkward now, for wishing death by wasp upon him?”

“Wha—I didn’t!” Shang Qinghua spluttered. A heavy, pale hand gripped down on his shoulder.

“You dare insult Junshang?” Mobei-Jun growled.

“I didn’t know the child was him!” Shang Qinghua protested. The claws digging into his flesh eased up. “I thought he was a misbegotten bastard sired during Shen-shixiong’s frequent frolicking with the town whores!”

A moment of silence.

The claws dug back in. “You dare insult Junshang’s Emp—ally?”

Shang Qinghua, already drenched in cold sweat, dampened further. “His what??”

His what? Shen Qingqiu internally echoed. ‘Empally’ was definitely not a proper word. A demonic colloquialism, perhaps? In the end, he had too much fun watching his worm of a shidi squirm under Mobei-Jun’s thumb to seek clarification.

(If only he had.)

*

Things settled into a comfortable routine. If Shen Qingqiu was asked to describe it, he might even say ‘eerily comfortable’. Once or twice a month, almost like clockwork, the ice demon would show up in Shen Qingqiu’s house and deposit his miniature Junshang. More often than not, Shang Qinghua would soon slunk inside as well, morosely taking up position to act as Shen Qingqiu’s assistant in tiny beast rearing.

Unfortunately, but not quite unexpectedly, the An Ding Peak Lord proved himself to be useless around small children. But Shen Qingqiu wasn’t the Sect’s strategist for nothing, he quickly found a way to put his shidi’s non-existent talents to work: During playtime, whenever a pebble made its way inside a green froggy slipper, Shang Qinghua would get glared into submission, and consequently onto his hands and knees, so Bingbing could use his back as an impromptu stool.

Life was good.

The only downside was the tiny beast’s temporary existence. Shen Qingqiu could always tell when the time for transformation crept up on them by Bingbing’s increasing resistance against bedtime. It was as if the child was subconsciously aware that once asleep, his presence would get erased to make way to someone else.

Shen Qingqiu had to constantly remind himself that Bingbing wasn’t real, that he was merely an anomaly brought forth by his demonic disciple’s unholy experiments on himself.

Speaking of which…

Shen Qingqiu untangled himself from his covers and turned a piercing glare at the lump on the other side of the bed.

“Good morning, Shizun,” Luo Binghe greeted, recently transformed back during the night. “Did you miss me?”

“Tch, as if!” Grasping the fan he kept under his pillow, Shen Qingqiu reached over to poke Luo Binghe in the cheek. Hard. “This is the third time you are here this month. The third! Who is managing your so-called empire while you are chasing frogs on Qing Jing, hmm? And don’t say Mobei-Jun!”

Luo Binghe’s mouth snapped shut with an audible click. After a bout of silence he muttered, “But it is Mobei-Jun.”

Shen Qingqiu raised the fan and smacked him. Hard. “Tell me again, which one of you is aiming for the title of Demon Emperor? Him or you? Because as far as I can see, he is doing most of your management!”

Luo Binghe sat up in affront. The covers pooled in his lap, leaving his torso bare in the morning sunlight seeping through the widows. “I’m the one winning all the decisive battles! That’s why I keep turning into a child!” He crossed his arms, toned muscles shifting under pale skin. “As for management, that’s what Mobei-Jun keeps Shang-shishu around for.”

Groaning, Shen Qingqiu rolled onto his back. “Great. My worm-shidi is becoming Emperor of the Demon Realm.”

Eyes closed, he listened to Luo Binghe get out of bed and rustle around in his chest for a set of robes. Yes, the little beast had his own trunk full of clothes and other knick-knacks stationed in the bedroom. It was convenient and necessary, but Shen Qingqiu couldn’t help but despair at the sheer domesticity of it all.

He should be seething at the half-demon’s mere presence, but at one point waking up to Luo Binghe’s punchably handsome face had become… ordinary. A recurring, almost expected part of his life. Shen Qingqiu suspected that his sense of comfort with Bingbing had somehow transferred over to Big Bing, thus the glaring lack of pins and needles running up his spine at the close proximity of a stinky male specimen.

Still, it bothered him how much it didn’t bother him. Did that make sense? Or was Shen Qingqiu going crazy?

His self-inflicted spiral petered out as the air filled with the aroma of frying dough. Pushing himself up into a sitting position, he stared at his bare toes. Should he get dressed, prim and proper?

He flopped back with a sigh. It was one of his rare days off, nothing to do but paperwork. It felt like a waste to put on his Peak Lord regalia just to swear at documents. It’s not like anyone was scheduled to visit, so nobody would see if he stayed dressed down.

Bingbing doesn’t count.

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? It wasn’t Bingbing cooking breakfast in the kitchen, but Luo Binghe, and Shen Qingqiu had an image to keep in front of him.

Or did he?

Luo Binghe had already witnessed him unkept and messy in the mornings—this was his, what, twelfth or thirteenth time waking up next to him? At this point scrambling to play the lofty, ethereal scholar in front of him was just keeping up appearances for the sake of appearances: an empty, useless effort. So why bother?

Satisfied with his own reasoning, Shen Qingqiu threw a single robe over his sleeping clothes and half-heartedly combed his hair into a low ponytail. Not presentable for polite company, but the little beast was rude as all hells anyway.

Ambling over to the low table to await breakfast, he noted the subtle changes in his room: stacks of books straightened up, brushes neatly packed away, a few knick-knacks repositioned to better catch the eye in a decorative manner.

Tsk, does he fancy himself a maid now? Playing at being a chef is bad enough…

“Shizun~!” Luo Binghe’s sing-song call lilted through the door, soon followed by the beast himself. With an elaborate bow, he presented a plate of golden-yellow fried pancakes.

Shen Qingqiu arched an eyebrow. “Jianbing again?”

“Excuse my unsophisticated taste, Shizun. This is the cuisine I grew up on, so this is the cuisine I cook the best,” Luo Binghe rattled off as he plopped down to Shen Qingqiu’s left.

“This one time,” Shen Qingqiu generously conceded. This was the eleventh ‘one time’ he had generously conceded to.

Leaning an elbow on the table, Luo Binghe propped up his chin with a knowing grin. Shen Qingqiu considered wiping it off his smug mug, but he was too caught up in the fluffiness of the pancake, the crispy snap of the wonton cracker, the enticing mix of sweet hoisin and salty soy bean paste, and the generous splash of chili that sparkled on his tongue like tiny firecrackers.

Mmmm, finally!

Though there were no official food restrictions on Cang Qiong Mountain—except, of course, for the ascetic peak—after joining Qing Jing Peak it had been swiftly made clear to Shen Qingqiu that there were unwritten rules regarding what was considered proper nourishment for a principled scholar.

Not baozi. Not spicy noodles. Not tanghulu. Nothing with more than a hint of flavor, really. Apparently worldly pleasures like seasoning distracted the mind from grasping the true essence of the four arts. It was a sad and bland existence on Qing Jing Peak—at least during meal times.

Jianbing finished, Shen Qingqiu dabbed his lips with a napkin.

“The food was,” excellent, “adequate.”

“I’m glad,” said Luo Binghe.

Shen Qingqiu slanted him a look. “Do you have to sit there and watch me eat? It’s not like you can go to the mess hall, you might as well join me.”

“Last time I tried Shizun reprimanded me.”

I did?

The memory came to him.

I did.

The first time Luo Binghe had cooked for Shen Qingqiu, he’d joined him at the table with his own plate. While it was improper for a disciple to do so, that hadn’t been Shen Qingqiu’s reason for rebuffing him. One, Luo Binghe wasn’t exactly his disciple anymore—no matter how much the beast kept calling him Shizun—two, their situation was unorthodox at best, downright surreal at worst, so insisting on proper manners was kind of a moot point.

No, what led to Shen Qingqiu shooing Luo Binghe away had nothing to do with etiquette, and everything with his own frazzled ego. See, it was still the beginning of their Arrangement, and Shen Qingqiu hadn’t yet learnt to completely separate Bingbing from Big Bing in his mind, and had unthinkingly reached over to cut up the beast’s food into bite-sized pieces. Once realizing his mistake, overtaken by embarrassment, he’d removed Luo Binghe from the table.

Shen Qingqiu opened his fan and waved it at an angle that concealed most of his face. “This master has changed his mind. You may join me at meals from now on.”

“Thanking Shizun. Very gracious.”

“More than you deserve.”

Luo Binghe’s eyes glinted with amusement. “I will do my best to become worthy then.”

Is he mocking me? Shen Qingqiu scrutinized the beast with great intensity, but Luo Binghe’s polite smile didn’t waver. If anything, it grew wider, genuinely joyful even. Hmph!

“After you wash up, I want to see your battle plans.”

“Shizun?”

Shen Qingqiu raised his chin in an imperious manner. “You are clearly doing something wrong to be darkening my doorstep so often. Your battle tactics can’t rely on your powers alone; one day you will overdraw on this cursed technique of yours and expire on the spot.”

Luo Binghe had a conflicted look on his face. Fortunately, Shen Qingqiu knew the magic phrase that would entice the young man into revealing his war strategies for inspection. Raising his fan to conveniently hide behind, he forced it out in a quiet mumble:

“This master. . . worries.”

“Ah,” Luo Binghe’s eyes jumped around in the room in flustered silence, suddenly at a loss for words. “In that case, of course, I would delight—it would be my honor to—I will get the maps and other documents from Mobei-Jun, just a moment!”

Too easy, thought Shen Qingqiu smugly.

Luo Binghe scurried out of the room, one hand full of dirty dishes, the other patting his pockets for the summoning talisman of his lieutenant.

I’ll also need to look into the command structure and organizational duties in the already conquered territories. Shen Qingqiu’s eyes narrowed into icy slits. Over my dead body will I allow Shang Qinghua to become an integral part of my beast’s Empire!

Chapter Text

The miserable wailing could be heard through the muffling charms around the bamboo cottage. Shen Qingqiu paused in front of the door and quietly contemplated the pros and cons of turning around. In the end there was no real choice: Bingbing was inside, and as a responsible guardian Shen Qingqiu was obliged to enter the fray.

His feet barely crossed the threshold when Bingbing was already at his side, throwing short arms around his knees and burying a tear-soaked face into his robes. Internally dying over the baby-snot soaking into the expensive silk, Shen Qingqiu levelled a frosty glare at Shang Qinghua.

“I was gone for less than half a shichen. Pray tell, how did the situation descend into such,” he gestured at the bawling toddler, “in only this timeframe?”

Shang Qinghua had the unmitigated gall to shrug. “We were merely playing? It’s not my fault Little Junshang can’t take a joke.”

“Bad-shushu stole my nose!” Bingbing cried, face contorted in distress.

Ah.

Shen Qingqiu leaned down to administer a dose of calming pats to the child’s head. “No, he didn’t. It’s still there like always.”

Bingbing crossed his eyes to verify his Shizun’s statement. “No! It’s not!” he whimpered, betrayed by the blatant falsehood.

Sighing, Shen Qingqiu booped the tip of Bingbing’s nose. “You can feel it right?”

Blinking at the finger touching his appendage that by all means shouldn’t be there, Bingbing released his vice like grip on Shen Qingqiu’s knees. He leant back with a wet sniffle and grabbed at his face with both hands. The familiar bump in the middle seemed to equally mystify and mollify him.

“Shishoon, it’s a nose!” came the muffled but delighted announcement. Bingbing patted at his face for a few more seconds before his brows furrowed. Pointing an accusatory finger at Shang Qinghua, he gave Shen Qingqiu an entreating look. “Bu-but Bingbing see it! He has it in hand!”

“Oh, this?” smirked Shang Qinghua. Holding his thumb between the index and middle finger, he presented the ‘stolen nose’ with a flourish.

“There!” Bingbing shrieked, stomping a froggy slipper in aggravation.

Shen Qingqiu restrained himself from rolling his eyes—barely; it was a battle for the ages, one deserving of multiple honors and at least a dozen medals.

“Shidi, give Bingbing back his nose. Bullying a toddler should be below even you.”

Shang Qinghua pursed his lips, doubtful of this high opinion of his character. After an extended staring contest, he finally gave in and crouched down to hold out the ‘nose’ to Bingbing. “C’mere, I will pop it back on.”

Squeaking in alarm, Bingbing burrowed under his Shizun’s robes, leaving only a single distrustful eye to peek out from beneath the silky layers.

Shen Qingqiu prayed for patience. With gritted teeth he pried out the sticky invader and placed him in front of Shang Qinghua. Placing both hands on Bingbing’s tiny shoulders—partially as encouragement, mainly as a deterrent against crawling back under his robes—Shen Qingqiu gently pushed him forward.

“Go on, Bingbing. If your Bad-shushu tries anything nefarious, Shizun will smite him.”

Bingbing gave a hesitant nod and warily trotted towards Shang Qinghua’s proffered hand. On the short way over he paused three times to look back at Shen Qingqiu for courage. Once at his destination, Bingbing fisted two tiny hands in the front of his robe, and leaned forward to press his face against Shang Qinghua’s thumb. Just as he was about to regain his lost nose, treachery! The hand pulled back.

Shang Qinghua pretended to pop the nose in his mouth, and made a show of chewing and swallowing it.

Shen Qingqiu: “. . .”

Bingbing: “. . .”

Leaning back with a satisfied sigh, Shang Qinghua rubbed his stomach. “Mmm, yum-yum!”

Bingbing’s mouth fell open. “Wa. . .”

Shang Qinghua winked. “Next time, I’m gonna get your toes!”

A half-choked inhalation.

“WAAAAAAHH!”

*

Disciple Xue, spitefully tipsy and recently single, stumbled through the dark bamboo forest towards the boys’ dormitory. Taking a daring shortcut by the Disciplinary Hall, he was treated to the peculiar sight of the An Ding Peak Lord kneeling in penitence while Master Shen delivered a biting lecture on the topic of proper child rearing.

Uh-oh, trouble in paradise, thought Disciple Xue.

Personally, he was of the opinion that their Shizun could do better than Shang-shishu, even if he was a dedicated co-parent to little Bingbing. Yes, it was commendable how the An Ding Peak Lord kept coming around to help out with the child, but as far as Disciple Xue could see, he had little else to offer.

Dump him, Shizun! Disciple Xue cheered internally.

He made a mental note to warn his martial siblings of their Shizun’s impending heartbreak and to prepare adequate distractions for the event. Maybe a list of eligible cultivators? No, no, no, their Shizun was too dignified to entertain the notion of a rebound relationship.

Single parenthood suited their Shizun just fine anyway, he didn’t need a useless partner ambling around under foot—not that Disciple Xue was projecting his own bitterness over his break up on him or anything!

Shaking his head in disappointment at himself, at Shang-shishu, at the concept of love itself, Disciple Xue continued his stealthy retreat home where he would definitely not cry himself to sleep.

Chapter Text

“Shizun, Zhangmen-shibo is here for a visit!” Ming Fan announced through the closed door.

“Tell him I’m out!” Shen Qingqiu shouted back.

A beat of awkward silence. Ming Fan cleared his throat. “Um, my apologies, Zhangmen-shibo, Shizun seems to be, uh, not here at the moment.”

“I see. Truly a shame,” came Yue Qingyuan’s placid reply.

Shen Qingqiu pinched the bridge of his nose and stoutly ignored the muffled snickers of his weiqi opponent. Standing up with a sigh, he stalked over to the door and yanked it open.

“Ming Fan, how many times have I told you not to let visitors past the main door?”

“Many apologies, Shizun, but this disciple can’t—to stop the Sect Leader is. . .” stuttered Ming Fan, nervously wringing his hands as he glanced between the two Peak Lords.

“Don’t be too hard on him, Qingqiu-shidi,” said Yue Qingyuan, which was as good as an admission that Ming Fan had tried to keep him out, but he’d mercilessly bullied his way inside with affable, poisonous politeness.

Overbearing, sticky bastard.

“Well. Since you are here.” Shen Qingqiu left the door open as he turned around. Yue Qingyuan followed him with a pep in his steps. “Sit down or stand, but do not make yourself comfortable. I’m already busy with. . .” he trailed off, eyes rowing around in the conspicuously empty room.

Yue Qingyuan walked up to the table and made a thoughtful noise at the unfinished game of weiqi. “Did I interrupt?”

“Apparently not,” Shen Qingqiu muttered, put off by the sudden disappearance of his opponent. Aloud he said, “I’m playing myself. Sadly, it’s the only challenging match I can get around here.”

Yue Qingyuan’s eyes brightened. “I’m told I put up a good fight. Perhaps I can offer you a worthy battle?” He looked down at the board. “Though it depends on which you I am playing against. Black Qingqiu is doing noticeably poorer than White Qingqiu.”

“I’m not about to coddle the almighty Xuan Su sword.” Shen Qingqiu picked up a white piece and flipped it between his fingers. “You only get me at my most merciless.”

A muffled snort came from the wardrobe. Shen Qingqiu clacked down the weiqi piece with enough force to rattle the board.

“Anyway,” he said, a tad too loudly, “I doubt our esteemed Sect Leader came to visit just to talk games. Why are you here?”

Yue Qingyuan furrowed his brows in the wardrobe’s direction before turning back to Shen Qingqiu, genial smile back in place. “Qingqiu-shidi is right. I’m here to address an important matter regarding the,” he paused to make meaningful eye contact, “company you’ve been keeping.”

The blood in Shen Qingqiu’s veins turned to ice.

“Is this about Bingbing?” he prodded, mind racing over contingency plans.

“Partially,” Yue Qingyuan agreed.

So this was about Luo Binghe. Fuck. Was he about to be arrested for colluding with demons? Double whipped fuckity-fuck.

Adopting a strategically disdainful composure, he stepped away from the table with a scoff. “If this is about the persistent rumors regarding the brat’s parentage, you can tell our meddlesome martial siblings that no, I am still not the father.”

Stall, misdirect, escape!

He made to circle Yue Qingyuan, unobtrusively putting himself next to the wardrobe.

Unfortunately, Yue Qingyuan had other ideas. Just as Shen Qingqiu was about to reach his destination, he stepped in front of him and grabbed him by the shoulders.

“Xiao Jiu.” His voice was low and steady. Commanding. Before, he’d only ever said that old name with fond nostalgia, soft, laden with guilt.

Shocked, Shen Qingqiu forgot to flinch away from the unwanted touch.

Yue Qingyuan’s usually smiling mouth set into a determined line. “You know that a partnership like this will only bring trouble. Even if it seems like a good prospect at the moment.”

He knows about the Arrangement too.

Swallowing hard, Shen Qingqiu wrenched himself back from Yue Qingyuan’s hold. “Don’t presume to tell me what company to keep!”

“I’m trying to help.”

“Don’t!”

“Think of Cang Qiong Mountain! If this entanglement doesn’t work out, how will it impact the sect?” Yue Qingyuan attacked from a different direction.

Shen Qingqiu crossed his arms. “Why do you think it won’t? Can’t you trust my judgment for once?” His arms tightened, almost hugging himself. “What use am I as a strategist if you undermine my every move by mollycoddling me?”

“This isn’t about strategy,” a worried frown crossed Yue Qingyuan’s face, “is it?”

It was complicated, alright? Shen Qingqiu was already struggling to make sense of his dealings with Luo Binghe, the last thing he needed was for Yue Qingyuan to put it under magnifying glass.

Flustered, Shen Qingqiu made a noncommittal noise.

Yue Qingyuan’s shoulders drooped. “Shidi. . .”

“Don’t you ‘shidi’ me!”

“But you are my—"

“It’s not the word, it’s the tone of voice!” Shen Qingqiu pitched his voice to a low whine, “Shidi. . .”

The wardrobe let out a muffled guffaw. Shen Qingqiu narrowed his eyes, daring Yue Qingyuan to comment.

The Sect Leader’s smile thinned. “What loud undergarments you have. I’m beginning to suspect they are not made of cotton.”

This conversation keeps attaining new lows. Sigh. Might as well keep digging.

With boldness born out of resignation, Shen Qingqiu channeled his best Shang Qinghua impression and tilted his mouth into a smarmy smile. “What led you to cotton on to the fact?”

A beat of silence.

“Pff-AH!” the wardrobe began to choke. Yue Qingyuan rapped it with a knuckle, brows creasing with concern despite his obvious distaste.

Shen Qingqiu raised his eyes Heavenward. I know none of you bastards up there have any love for me. So come on, strike me down. Do it!

Alas, he remained well and alive.

With a last elongated wheeze, the wardrobe fell silent. Yue Qingyuan and Shen Qingqiu shared a glance, then looked back at the wardrobe. The quiet in the air vibrated on a visible spectrum.

“Should we. . . ?” Yue Qingyuan ventured.

“No.”

“But what if he. . . ?”

“I will have Ming Fan dispose of the remains.”

“Well then,” said Yue Qingyuan, clapping his hands together in the same manner he did at Peak Lord meetings to signal the end of a discussion.

After a minute of silence Shen Qingqiu turned to say, “Regarding what we discussed earlier, about the dem—"

“That matter just solved itself,” Yue Qingyuan interrupted with a chuckle. He gestured at the conspicuously silent wardrobe. “With poor Shang-shidi’s passing there is no more need for me to warn you against accepting his courting.” His smile turned five notches brighter, nearly blinding Shen Qingqiu. “I am extremely sorry for your loss.”

“My loss,” Shen Qingqiu woodenly repeated. “Of Shang Qinghua. Who was courting me. And you came to talk about. Right. That loss.”

“If there is anything shixiong can do to help. . .”

“No need.”

“Such a tragedy will necessitate a gentle touch to heal your wounded soul. . .”

Shen Qingqiu aggressively herded Yue Qingyuan towards the door.

“And if your little one needs another guiding hand, I’m always ready to step up!”

Forgoing decorum, Shen Qingqiu physically pushed his shixiong across the threshold. Yue Qingyuan clamped a hand on the edge of the door, muscles bulging as he forcibly kept it open.

“My back is much broader than Shang-shidi’s,” he ranted desperately, “you would never slip off!”

Powered by sheer embarrassment, Shen Qingqiu heaved against the door with his full weight.

“Xiao Jiu sit on me—!!”

B A N G

The door slammed shut. Shen Qingqiu leaned his back against it, closing his eyes in deep exhaustion.

On the other side of the door Ming Fan cleared his throat. “Shall this disciple escort Zhangmen-shibo out?”

Not waiting to hear Yue Qingyuan’s answer, Shen Qingqiu pushed himself away from the door and stalked over to the wardrobe.

“Stop playing possum. You are horrible at camouflaging your spiritual presence, you utter failure of a spy.”

The wardrobe creaked open to reveal Shang Qinghua’s shit-eating grin. Well. No one wanted to see that. Shen Qingqiu slammed it back closed.

“Aww honey, don’t be like that,” Shang Qinghua simpered from within. “I know my tragic loss has simply devastated you, might I offer a gentle touch for your fragile, wounded soul from beyond the grave?”

“I can and WILL set this wardrobe on fire.”

“Not with your Blood Campaign Hare fur coat in here with me.”

Shit, Shen Qingqiu loved his Blood Campaign Hare fur coat. The rat got him there. Giving up with a disgusted scoff, he trudged over to the weiqi table and sank into the seat by the white pieces. Two blinks later Shang Qinghua appeared on the opposite side.

“New game?”

“Are you conceding defeat for this one?” Shen Qingqiu asked.

Shang Qinghua shrugged. “I distinctly remember Yue-shixiong all but pointing and laughing at my gameplay, so I don’t see the point of drawing it out.”

“You think you will fare better in the next one?”

“Well,” Shang Qinghua drawled, “I was thinking that since you are a level above me—”

“At least six. Maybe nine.”

“—you could play the next game with a handicap, like letting me go twice on my turns, or wearing a blindfold,” Shang Qinghua wheedled.

Shen Qingqiu considered the proposal.

“Fine. I will use my left hand.”

It took Shang Qinghua an embarrassing amount of time—a whole turn—to realize this changed not a damn thing, but by then Shen Qingqiu had already coerced him into making a bet over the game.

*

Ming Fan entered his Shizun’s study with a tray of refreshments, only to catch his usually aloof master in the middle of shoving fistfuls of weiqi pieces down a flailing Shang Qinghua’s throat.

“Stop resisting! You lost the bet, now take the loss like a man!”

Ming Fan politely averted his eyes and shuffled back out the door.

Two days later, during the weekly disciple assembly, he mournfully crossed out the names of both Yue Qingyuan and Shang Qinghua on the list of potential candidates they’d made for their super-secret initiative of “Make Shizun and Bingbing’s Family Complete!”.

The gathered disciples let out a collective moan of disappointment. With their two most promising prospects eliminated, what hope had they left?

Chapter Text

It was evening, three hours after a tiresome Peak Lord meeting. Shang Qinghua had invited himself over to Qing Jing Peak with a jar of peach blossom wine, which Shen Qingqiu had graciously accepted as a bribe to put up with his presence.

“Who are you hiding from?” Shen Qingqiu asked, gently swirling the pink beverage in his cup before taking a small sip. Delicious.

“Who says I’m hiding?” Shang Qinghua retorted.

Shen Qingqiu pointedly sipped at his wine again. It was simply too good to come without ulterior motives.

“Fine. It’s Qi Qingqi.” Shang Qinghua made a complicated gesture with his hand that was equally befuddling and terribly obscene. “Two of her girls were caught with one of mine. Under a table. In the mess hall.” A long sigh. “In the middle of dinner rush.”

“Bold and unhygienic.”

“Now Qi-shimei is on my ass for allowing my lowly disciple to corrupt her fairies. Bah!” Shang Qinghua drained his cup in one gulp and slammed it on the table. “As if her peak wasn’t a hotbed of hardcore erotica production! Have you read the drivel that comes out of Xian Shu’s private press? The things those girls imagine a male anus can swallow is preposterous!”

In one swell swoop Shen Qingqiu had learnt way too much about how the rest of the sect spent its free time. He refilled his cup with the futile hope that enough alcohol would erase this new, dearly unwanted information.

Shang Qinghua put an elbow on the table and slumped over it. “I’m not even mad at my disciple, just disappointed. Mess halls are in the top ten forbidden locations to fornicate in.”

“You have a list?” Shen Qingqiu asked, curiosity piqued despite his misgivings.

The glint in Shang Qinghua’s eyes was a mix between pride and deep-seated resignation. “Two-thirds of An Ding’s Rules of Conduct is taken up by it. Over a hundred and fifty pages.”

Shen Qingqiu was speechless. Were there even that many places in Cang Qiong?

Shang Qinghua slammed back another cup. “Only the first two pages were included in the original draft, forbidding students from ‘living their youth’ in places like classrooms, mess halls, the kitchen, and such. You know, common sense stuff. The other hundred and forty-eight pages were added on a case-by-case basis, updated whenever the occasion necessitated it. One would think the hallucinogenic beehive on Qian Cao Peak would be a big glaring no-no, but alas, it needs to be written down because there are already two precedents, and teenagers cannot be trusted to think beyond the exciting development between their legs caused by puberty.”

The silence settling over them at the tail end of Shang Qinghua’s impassioned rant felt like a scratchy, uncomfortable blanket. Shen Qingqiu desperately wracked his brain for a reply that wouldn’t reveal just how much of a loop this cascade of revelations had thrown him for.

“That’s rough, shidi,” is what he finally settled on. Internally he sent up a prayer of gratitude that his disciples were cultured little scholars-to-be and not a rabble of libidinous morons.

A chilling thought occurred to him. Or were they?

As a principle, he didn’t spend much time with his students outside of classes and missions, preferring to let them study and develop independently. Would he even know if they were ‘living their youth’ irresponsibly? They could be regularly sexing it up in the hallucinogenic beehive on Qian Cao and he would have no idea! But no, Mu Qingfang would have surely noticed and told Shen Qingqiu about that. Unless. . . unless he was into watching disciples go at in the hallucinogenic beehive?? No. Yes? No, Mu-shidi was a professional! But that moustache—that moustache was too wrong to be trusted. . .

Shen Qingqiu was saved from descending into the beginning stages of a mental breakdown by a sudden drop in temperature. The stooped form of Mobei-Jun appeared in the shadows, back bent so the toddler next to him could easily hold his hand.

“Shishoon, hi!” Bingbing greeted. Letting go of his lieutenant’s hand, he made to sprint at Shen Qingqiu, only to halt in his tracks as he registered the other presence in the room. A hiss like an angry kitten left his mouth and he retreated into the safety of Mobei-Jun’s shadow.

The demon turned a nonplussed look at Shang Qinghua. “What did you do?”

“Me? I am but an innocent bystander!”

No one in the room looked remotely convinced. Bingbing tugged on Mobei-Jun’s cape to get his attention.

“Bad-shushu stole my nose!” he confided.

The Heir to the North inspected his tiny leader with due diligence. “I still see it on your face, Junshang.”

Bingbing flashed him a beaming smile and pointed at Shen Qingqiu. “Shishoon kissied it better!”

Don’t tell him that! Cheeks flushing, Shen Qingqiu ducked behind his trusty fan. Under the table he aimed a sharp kick at Shang Qinghua to discourage his mocking snickering.

Mobei-Jun made a short, thoughtful noise. “Are these secret techniques of your sect?” He turned to Shen Qingqiu. “Does it work on other body parts too? Like lost limbs?”

Forcing a snort of laughter into a cough, Shang Qinghua waved his hand in the air as if trying to fight off a scourge of mosquitoes. “Nay, nay, nay, My Lord! These are not real techniques.”

The tiny beast stomped his tiny foot. “Bingbing saw! You stole my nose!”

“Are you questioning the reliability of Junshang’s testimony?” Mobei-Jun growled.

“My Lord, please, Little Junshang is like three at most, he can be easily deceived!”

Mobei-Jun’s growl turned into a guttural snarl. “You pitiful worm, you dare deceive your Junshang?”

Shen Qingqiu, in an act of unprecedented mercy, intervened before Shang Qinghua could dig his own grave even deeper. “Excuse my shidi, he’s merely incompetent. An utter failure. A total waste of space. Less useful than a teapot made of soap.”

“You can stop helping now,” Shang Qinghua grumbled.

Shen Qingqiu ignored him. “He is the type of person that struggles to empty a bucket while reading the instructions on the bottom. I assure you, he truly meant no harm, only attempted to play a human children’s game with Bingbing and got carried away.” He gifted Shang Qinghua with a threatening look. “I already took steps to correct his behavior.”

“I see.” Mobei-Jun’s expression betrayed not a speck of emotion.

Shang Qinghua, in a bout of bravery and magnificent idiocy, stepped forward with unearned confidence. “My Lord, it’s easiest to show you. Keep still!”

Without any additional warning, he reached up and pinched Mobei-Jun’s nose between his index and middle finger, quickly switching it with his thumb as he pulled his hand back. The fact that Shang Qinghua was still in possession of all four limbs by the end of the maneuver came as a shock to Shen Qingqiu—he was unaware that the Northern Prince allowed such undue familiarity between himself and his human servant.

Fascinating. He couldn’t help but wonder: were the two of them ‘strictly within professional boundaries’ type of friendly or more like ‘illicit adventures in the hallucinogenic beehive’ friendly?

Meanwhile Shang Qinghua was triumphantly gloating over his trick by wiggling the captured thumb in the air. “I got your nose, My Lord!”

Mobei-Jun’s eyes tracked his spy’s finger with cold impassivity. Quicker than the human eye could follow, he grabbed Shang Qinghua by the throat.

“Hrk!”

Mobei-Jun loomed over his choking servant. “Good show.” His eyes narrowed into icy slits, promising swift and ruthless retribution if his next demand wasn’t met with immediate obedience: “Now put it back.”

*

What followed was Bingbing’s first ever full-blown temper tantrum. Amid hysterical sobs and a flurry of tiny fist attacks, he declared that “Shishoon can’t kissie Momo-Jun’s nose better! Shishoon kissies are for Bingbing only!” thus, through his power as Junshang, putting a permanent embargo on Shizun smoochies.

Since Shen Qingqiu hadn’t harbored a smidge of intention to try his dubious healing skills on the ice demon, it came as a relief that its use was now officially forbidden.

As for Mobei-Jun, after his Little Junshang’s decree, he finally calmed down and released Shang Qinghua from his chokehold. The two Peak Lords then put on a demonstrative presentation of various sleight of hand techniques and explained that no noses were ever stolen.

Shen Qingqiu would despair over the Prince of the Northern Kingdom being fooled by a mere children’s game, but to be fair, the world was a bonkers place—and that went triply so for the demon realm—so the existence of painless body part snatching powers wasn’t as beyond the realms of possibility as one might hope it to be.

Still, as he watched Shang Qinghua dazzle their demonic guests, tiny and fully grown alike, by producing coins seemingly out of thin air, Shen Qingqiu couldn’t help but worry. Against every lesson instilled in him as a cultivator, he wanted to keep these stupid demons safe, along with their stupider traitorous spy.

What did I get myself into?

Maybe Yue Qingyuan was right, this entanglement, as he’d so eloquently put it, was bound to bring him nothing but ruin.

Bingbing squealed in delight as Mobei-Jun successfully mimicked one of the tricks and pulled a coin from behind his Little Junshang’s ear, Shang Qinghua posturing beside them like a proud master.

Shen Qingqiu sighed, resigned and utterly fond.

Oh well. Ruin it is.