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Chapter Text

Shen Yuan lets himself into the bamboo house. The door closes with a soft thud as he quietly walks inside. His footsteps are silent as he slowly drifts away from the foyer and makes a slight stop at the kitchen to get some tea ready. When everything’s put together he finally enters his true destination.

He walks into the room without knocking or announcing his presence, already aware that the other knows he’s there.

Sitting at a table with piles of paper obstructing the view of the wood underneath is his Shizun. His hair is let loose and his clothes are in slight disarray with the first layer of his outer robe bunched up in a pile at his side. His fingers are ink-stained, his head tilted down, and his shoulders relaxed as he sits in this small bubble made up of only him and Shen Yuan.

Shen Yuan takes in the sight for a moment more, observing the curve of his neck, the long lashes, the pale skin, and the graceful way he sits.

‘He needs to sleep more,’ Shen Yuan notes immediately.

“You're back,” Shen Qingqiu says without looking up. Shen Yuan takes that as his cue and finally unroots himself from the doorway. He sits at the other side of the table. He’s directly in front of his Shizun now and with this new perspective can better see how utterly exhausted his teacher is. He immediately gets to work clearing the documents into more manageable piles before putting the kettle onto the table, pouring himself and his Shizun two cups.

“This disciple greets Shizun,” Shen Yuan says absentmindedly as he carefully pushes the cup to the other man. Qingqiu pauses from his writing. He puts down the brush slowly. He looks from the cup to Shen Yuan and then back again before picking it up with fluid poise.

“You're late,” is his curt reply from behind the cup as he takes a careful sip, savoring the taste. His eyes close and Shen Yuan smiles at his reaction.

“I apologize, there was an…issue. It has been taken care of. I’ve already written my report with all relevant information,” Shen Yuan hands the scroll over and Shen Qingqiu extends his hand to take it. Their hands touch for just the slightest moments, static zapping them, before Shen Qingqiu’s hand withdrawals.

“The disciples missed you,” Shen Qingqiu comments as he opens the scroll. Shen Yuan rubs his fingers together, attempting to calm the buzz under his skin.

“I’d be surprised if they didn't. Anyone would miss the absence of pain,” Shen Yuan says carelessly, a dare to the man before him.

“Impertinent,” Shen Qingqiu’s eyes are cold as he looks at him. His green eyes narrowed and sharp. Shen Yuan smiles.

“Yes, well you'll get me back for it tomorrow,” Shen Yuan tilts his head and watches with delight as his Shizun’s lips quirk up for just the slightest of moments before his fan opened with a sharp clap, rushing through the air like lightning.

Shen Yuan mourns the chance to better observe the man.

“With the way you act it’s almost as though you miss my whip,” Shen Qingqiu comments from behind the safety of his fan, both physically and mentally distancing himself from the situation. Shen Yuan refuses to let that happen.

“Not as much as I missed your venomous tongue,” Shen Yuan says, grabbing the teapot and refilling his Shizun’s cup. He watches as his teacher puts down the fan to take it.

Good.

“How unfilial, insulting your teacher like this,” Shen Qingqiu says after taking a sip. Shen Yuan smiles warmly.

“It keeps you young,” Shen Yuan says kindly, as though truly believing that to be the case. Shen Qingqiu rolls his eyes, calling him on his bullshit.

“I always assumed it was the cultivation,” Shen Qingqiu replies with good humor. Shen Yuan takes it in, absolutely enraptured by the figure before him. Shen Qingqiu’s cold face comes alive, his presence filling the room, his unearthly beauty brought to a new high. Shen Yuan pushes down the possessive delight that comes with knowing that he is one of the few people in the world to see him like this.

“Well, you know what they say about assumptions,” Shen Yuan grins.

“What do they say about assumptions? Perhaps you would enlighten this poor teacher?” The dare, the gauntlet that Shen Yuan had first thrown down, is shoved back at him and Shen Yuan takes his defeat gracefully.

“I’d rather keep my tongue if it’s all the same to you,” Shen Yuan says with a slight laugh. Shen Qingqiu rolls his eyes once more and shakes his head in mock disappointment.

“See, if you know you're saying something disrespectful that could get you maimed, why do you continue to do so anyway?” Shen Qingqiu asks incredulously.

“I’m a fool?” Shen Yuan shrugs. The fan hits him on the shoulder for the inelegant movement.

“Clearly,” and with the final word being his Shizun’s, the conversation stops. Shen Yuan gets to work helping his teacher finish his work.

‘Shizun must have been stressed without me,’ Shen Yuan frowns down at the paper, not liking the fact that the man is so swamped. God, what's the reason for having so many hall masters if they’re useless?

The silence is comfortable, filled only by the sound of ink grinding, paper moving, and brushes writing.

By the time the work is done the first calls of the morning birds have rung.

“Go to bed Shizun, allow this disciple to take care of things today,” Shen Yuan says as the other man tries to get up. Shen Qingqiu pauses, considering the proposal.

He frowns and opens his mouth to refuse but Shen Yuan interrupts before he can speak.

“Please,” the word is quiet, so quiet that Shen Qingqiu could pretend to not have heard it. But he doesn't. Instead, he closes his eyes and nods in consent.

He turns around and walks back into his own room, no doubt to take that sorely needed nap.

Shen Yuan smiles.

He once more pushes down the possessive delight that comes with being trusted, of being valued.

The Sect Leader himself would prostrate himself outside for everyone to see for just the sliver of a chance, but instead, it is Shen Yuan who has been blessed with the opportunity.

It wasn't easy, it wasn't simple, and it wasn't immediate.

Instead, it was the hardest thing he had ever done, the most complex battle he had ever been in, and the most lengthy mission he had ever taken.

But it was worth it.

He had no doubt that if he was back in his own world a therapist would have had him emitted, had no doubt that his own family would have called him crazy, but they didn't know what was left unsaid in the dead of night, they didn't know what was revealed in the light of day.

Chapter Text

Da-shixiong was kind. This was a thought that was not unique to just Ming Fan. Everyone on Qing Jing had that thought passingly at least. He was gentle and warm, a protective presence and pillar of support to every disciple on the peak. Da-shixiong was the closest thing many of the disciples had to a father.

He held his fellow disciples when they fell, soothed their hurts, and calmed their minds. He was dependable, someone you could go to for any problem you had.

But, just as he was a rock in the currents for the students, he was also much the same for their Shizun.

Most outside of their peak would not believe such a thing, would not understand the relationship between Shen Qingqiu and his first disciple. They would take one look at it and call it another example of Shen Qingqiu’s so-called scumminess. They would cry abuse but not take the time to truly know the nuance between the two.

They wouldn’t be wrong, Ming Fan amended, but they also would never understand that in the same breath that Shen Qingqiu would curse and berate his first disciple, he would kill anyone who harmed him.

Ming Fan did not claim to know everything that went on between the two, but he knew there was more to it than a jealous teacher who hurt someone with more potential than them

Da-shixiong was impertinent, he was disrespectful, and rude, and had he been anyone else he would have been thrown off the mountain years ago.

But he wasn't, he was instead made Head Disciple and put in charge as second in command.

That didn’t mean that everything was fine and dandy.

There was no student in Qing Jing that was more often whipped then Da-shixiong, no student more often punished than Da-shixiong, and no student more often starved than Da-shixiong.

He was a man with more scars on his skin than his cultivation could yet heal.

Still, despite that strange dynamic, Da-shixiong respected and loved no one more than he did their Shizun.

He adored the man.

He refused to hear even a word of disrespect about the man no matter how well-meaning they might have been said.

After all, what disciple enjoyed seeing their Da-shixiong harmed bloody? What disciple wouldn’t impulsively curse?

Still, despite the show of loyalty, Da-shixiong would only grow angry.

Their youngest disciple, still so very new, had asked how their Shizun could do such a thing and Da-shixiong had immediately started a spiel about how their Shizun could do whatever he damn well pleased.

Disciple Luo had been thoroughly cowed.

He also soon understood the way that their Da-shixiong was the tranquillizing factor of their mountain. That Qing Jing was like a well oiled machine with Da-shixiong being the most important cog in the entire system.

He learned that fact intimately when Da-shixiong went off on a mission and he, unfortunately, got Shizun’s attention.

Poor Disciple Luo still couldn’t look their Shizun in the eye, frightened deeply by the man he had only ever thought to be particularly harsh on their Da-shixiong.

Da-shixiong was kind.

He was the gentle touch to Shizun’s stinging strike.

“Disciple Ming,” their Shizun called, Ming Fan immediately looked up, ready and at attention. He put his hand to his forehead and made a solute.

He saw Shizun roll his eyes and Ming Fan bit his cheek to keep his laugh at bay. Da-shixiong was a prankster at heart and he soon made the solute a standard greeting to their Shizun.

Seeing as their Shizun had yet to whip anyone for it, he was more annoyed than actually frustrated.

“Get me the reports from Hallmaster Li,” Shizun ordered. Ming Fan nodded his head and ran off to do just that.

Shizun’s eyes were green. They reminded Fan Ming of jade, hard and cold as they inspected you and found you lacking. His was a gaze you rarely wanted directed at you.

Da-Shixiong, on the other hand, had black eyes so dark that they seemed to suck in the light around them. They were unsettling eyes. Unnatural eyes. Yet behind them, or perhaps more accurately, hiding them, was a kindness so innate and effortless that it left people reeling.

When Shen Yuan had just gotten accepted into Qing Jing he had a few misconceptions about his future.

How could he not?

He had woken up in a street kid’s body, someone without a single dime to their name in a new world where destruction was to be wrought in a few decades at most if he was lucky about his timing.

He went to Cang Qiong because it was the only major sect he knew of that would accept those with unclear backgrounds.

He figured he’d just learn enough to be able to protect himself before dipping, leaving the main plot behind as he did so.

He was not so lucky.

He became the first and only disciple of the new peak lord Shen Qingqiu.

At first, he was still under the misconception that things wouldn't be too bad for him because he wasn’t the main character. But, once more, he was wrong.

They got off on the wrong foot immediately.

Shen Qingqiu hated Shen Yuan and no matter how hard Shen Yuan tried to get the man to stop being an asshole to him, nothing worked.

He decided to stop trying and instead focus on his cultivation but he soon noticed something off about that too.

By the time he realized exactly what was happening, he was in the middle of a damn qi deviation.

He almost died that day.

Almost died because his Shizun decided to give him a false manual that he stupidly hadn’t checked over because he was under the impression that only Luo Binghe would be given such a thing.

Needless to say that after that little mishap, Shen Yuan started what might have very well been guerrilla warfare with Shen Qingqiu.

His tea was always cold.

His clothes were always too stiff.

His possessions moved just a few inches to the right.

His brushes hidden.

And so on.

Yeah, Shen Yuan got punished with extreme prejudice but he figured he deserved a bit of justice after almost dying.

One might ask how Shen Yuan didn’t get kicked off the peak for such blatant disrespect.

And the answer was simple.

Shen Yuan made himself indispensable.

Half of Shen Qingqiu’s workload was taken care of by him.

He made all the people Shen Qingqiu didn’t want to talk to go away.

And most importantly, when he wasn’t being a little shit, he made a mean cup of tea.

Then when the next year came and Shen Qingqiu picked out four new disciples Shen Yuan made himself even more crucial to the running of the peak by teaching them personally. He killed two birds with one stone, taking the burden from Shen Qingqiu’s shoulders and making sure none of his new cute little shidi and shimei got abused.

Slowly over time, Shen Qingqiu grew to like him.

It was a begrudging sort of affection, one that would disappear under cold stares if Shen Yuan even stepped one toe out of line but it was still better than what he had before.

And with their new, closer relationship, Shen Yuan grew to genuinely respect the man.

He truly did earn his place as master of the four arts and sect strategist.

Years went by and slowly the peak’s number of disciples grew, leaving Shen Yuan’s hands busy as he juggled his own cultivation, taking care of Qing Jing's paperwork, teaching his younger martial siblings, and personally tending to all of his Shizun’s needs.

For whatever reason, Shen Qingqiu refused to allow anyone other than Shen Yuan to enter his quarters for anything other than a major emergency.

Chapter Text

Shen Qingqiu met the boy who would gain his position as Shen Qingqiu’s first Disciple on a cold and cloudy day where the sun was nowhere to be seen and the first rains of the year would soon start falling.

Cold air stung uncovered skin and chilled those with little to wear down to the bone.

A bad omen, Hallmaster He whispered to Hallmaster Li just as Shen Qingqiu set out to accept his first batch of disciples.

In another universe, he would have left the selection empty-handed, not finding a single student who he could even tangibly think to accept into his peak.

In this one, his eyes were drawn almost immediately to a small street child dragging himself up the sect stairs with a determination that no noble-born child could even hope to match.

The child eventually hefted himself up the final step and grabbed the spade offered to him with a quick and harsh snag.

He looked around before finding a relatively empty plot of land, trudging over with heavy steps.

Shen Qingqiu watched as the child worked, watched as he desperately dug and dug and dug.

But just as Shen Qingqiu had marked him as a street rat only from his looks and presence, the boy proved Shen Qingqiu’s assessment true by displaying the instincts of one.

Black eyes so dark they looked inhuman met his own. 

A bad omen

A moment stretched into an eternity as Shen Qingqiu gazed into the eyes of a beast with no humanity that could be discerned. Breathe held and eyes unwavering before the animal masquerading as a boy looked away.

He focused intently on his task, disregarding everything else in his single-minded attention to his work.

Shen Qingqiu did not attempt to walk to the boy, he did not go forth to make his claim.

Instead, he watched and he waited.

The cloudy gray that the day had started with soon fulfilled its unsaid promise as rain dropped from the skies and pelted both mortals and immortals alike.

It was then that Shen Qingqiu should have left, it was then that Shen Qingiqu should have looked away and instead got onto his sword to fly away, once more firmly adjusting his mask of rich young master and powerful immortal to his face.

Shen Qingiqu stayed.

One by one his fellow peak lords picked their bounties and left, not sparing the boy a glance as they did so.

As the peak lords disappeared so too did the hopefuls. The rain picking up and washing away their resolve.

They left with regretful faces, looking back at Shen Qingqiu as they did so.

But Shen Qingqiu did not look at them, instead, his eyes never left the boy who still dutifully dug.

They stayed in this state of ambiguous yet otherworldly phenomenon for what felt like half a day and might very well have been. For this moment was everlasting in its strangeness. 

The boy dug, and Shen Qingqiu watched. This was a moment in time, a bubble that had yet to be popped and might never be.

Finally, Shen Qingiqu could not contain his curiosity. He made his choice and popped the bubble with a single step.

As soon as his foot touched the floor the sound of rain became crisp in clarity, raising above the muffled tip taps that Shen Qingiqu had been unaware were dampened.

He walked forward, stopping only when he was a few steps away from the boy and his, by now, very large hole.

“Why do you continue to dig? The selection is over,” Shen Qingqiu asked coldly, glaring down at the boy and his thin shoulders, boney fingers, dirty clothes, and bruised skin. 

“You’re still here aren't you?” the boy said, tilting his head as he looked up. Unsettling eyes drew Shen Qingqiu in.

“This lord has no intention of taking you as a disciple,” Shen Qingqiu sneered. He opened his fan with a crack and at the same time, a strike of thunder and lightning streaked through the sky, lighting both Shen Qingiqu and the boy’s features in a single moment where sharp shadows filled out most of their faces. The boy glanced at the fan before meeting Shen Qingqiu’s gaze once more.

“And yet you still stayed. If you have no intention of taking me as your student then why would you stick around?” the boy asked. He put the spade down and leaned back, using his arms as support as he relaxed. Shen Qingqiu’s lips thinned at the undignified posture.

“The mind of an immortal is fathomless,” Shen Qingqiu answered. By now both of them were soaked through to the bone. Immortal and street rat looked both more and less like themselves as they were stripped of the impact their clothes, their armor, and their masks made. At that moment Shen Qingqiu became both immortal and street rat and the boy became both street rat and immortal. It was a single moment of unity and cohesion where two became one. A moment that disappeared in the next as the rain once more broke through and separated what was once one.

“Sounds like an excuse to hide the fact that you don’t know either,” the boy said with a lack of fear that spoke highly of stupidity. Shen Qingqiu, still off-footed, barked out a laugh that would have otherwise stayed locked within his chest.

“My, how brave you are to question the words of a cultivator that can squash you with a single flick of their fingers,” Shen Qingqiu grinned sharply, his teeth bared. Still, despite his words, he made no move to harm the boy.

“If a cultivator is truly righteous then they have no reason to harm a mortal unconnected to them simply for the crime of speaking,” the boy said, testing Shen Qingqiu’s resolve with his own grin.

“The crime in question is not speaking, it is disrespect,” Shen Qingqiu threw back, finding joy in this dance Shen Qingqiu had been unaware they were partaking in. 

Immortal and street rat. Beggar and cultivator.

One took a step back and the other a step forward, circling the other like predators hungry for blood. Like animals starving for meat.

“And you find disrespect to be a crime worthy of death? If all cultivators share the same skewed sense of morality then it is no wonder the heavens are cruel when it is full of you,” the boy’s smile spoke of broken pottery that cut skin, carelessly thrown out into the streets for an unfortunate child to step on with bare feet for shoes were a luxury the unfortunate could rarely afford. 

He felt whatever words he had in response die on the tip of his tongue as his own thoughts were echoed back to him by an amalgamation of what was both himself and other, of what was both himself and stranger.

Unnerving black eyes met cold jade, daring and bold as their dance slowly stilled to a stop.

Immortal and street rat. Beggar and cultivator.

A bad omen 

Music that neither could hear yet both could feel drifted away and Shen Qingqiu swallowed those dead words, instead letting the next sentence out his mouth be one of reckless abandon.

“This Lord shall take you as his first student, welcome to Qing Jing Peak.”

Chapter Text

Ning Yingying doesn't remember her mother.

She must have had one, no one just spawns into the world fully formed after all.

She must have had a father too by that logic.

But for the very life of her, Ning Yingying can not recall them.

Instead, when she tries to think of her parents, it's her Shizun and Da-Shixiong’s face that emerges in her mind.

Her kind Shizun who spoils her rotten, who has taken care of her since she was only a little girl, still too young to safely cultivate.

And her stern Da-Shixiong who kept her from becoming a total brat or, in his words, a brain-dead idiot who never learned to think more than five thoughts in her entire life.

Her Da-Shixiong was really so colorful with his descriptions…

She knew she was the exception to what the rest of her peak had to deal with.

Da-Shixiong was seen as a kind caretaker who, while still stern, was never unfair with his punishments while Shizun was seen as being overzealous with his whip.

It was the opposite for her.

It was Da-Shixiong who made her run laps for punishment and was stern and firm with her upbringing.

It was Shizun who personally taught her the four arts, who raised her on his knee as a worthy successor for when both he and Da-Shixiong ascended.

Though that was supposed to be a secret from Da-Shixiong who was still under the impression that he was to become the next Qing Jing Peak Lord.

“Don't tell your Da-Shixiong, but he’s coming with me one way or another,” her Shizun had told her with a smile that lacked any joy or warmth, keeping only cold certainty in its confines.

Maybe Ning Yingying should have been concerned, but she knew that Da-Shixiong wouldn’t really object anyway.

Maybe he’d put up a few token protests but at the end of the day Da-Shixiong needed Shizun just as much as Shizun needed Da-Shixiong.

Of course, there were those who saw this closeness between Ning Yingying and her Shizun and drew some truly strange and unusual conclusions.

For example, Qi-Shigu took her aside one day and asked if her master had ever touched her.

Ning Yingying had laughed in her face, bending over from lack of breath as the humor of the situation caught up to her.

Shizun?

Touching her??

Sexually??? 

How could anyone even think that?

Not only because her Shizun had no interest in her but how could anyone think that Shizun would survive?

Didn’t they know that Da-Shixiong would never allow it?

Qi-Shigu seemed offended but Ning Yingying could hardly take in enough breath to explain, too busy trying not to pass out from lack of air.

Ning Yingying supposed that the reason for the questioning was because of the rumors of Shizun’s sexual deviancy.

Which wasn't entirely untrue, Ning Yingying supposed.

He did visit brothels often, but only when Da-Shixiong was gone.

Otherwise, he stayed up on his peak, rarely stepping a toe outside unless he had to.

Still, Shizun, touching her?

Ha!

“Shijie, can you come help me with getting the supplies to Da-Shixiong?” her newest Shidi, Luo Binghe asked, his face covered by the large tower of boxes he was already dragging around. Ning Yingying put her palm against her lips, hiding the smile that wanted to emerge from the picture her Shidi made even as she knew he could hardly see her over his load.

“One second Shidi,” Ning Yingying said, clearing her throat.

She grabbed a couple of boxes from Luo Binghe’s arms and was greeted with a warm and grateful smile that made her heart twist happily.

The two walked over to Da-Shixiong’s classroom, keeping up a steady stream of chatter as they went.

Just before they entered the classroom they stopped at the sight of their Shizun peering in from the door crack as Da-Shixiong's muffled voice reached their ears.

Poor Luo Binghe immediately stiffened at the sight of their teacher, no doubt still a little scared of the man after having his almost undivided punishment for two weeks straight.

Ning Yingying went up to the door and Luo Binghe hesitantly followed after her, his steps just a slight bit delayed.

She reached out a hand from below her load, and before her Shizun could even attempt to escape, opened it with a loud bang.

Shizun gave her a nasty glare but Ning Yingying smiled innocently back at him. Eventually, his glare went from harsh to reluctantly fond.

“Disciple Ning, might I ask what possibly possessed you to make such a ruckus?” Da-Shixiong's strict voice asked, immediately drawing Ning Yingying’s attention away from her Shizun.

As soon as she met Da-Shixiong's unamused eyes (so dark, so unnerving they made goosebumps rise on her skin) she knew that she had made a rather bad calculation on account of not factoring something very very important into her equation.

From Shizun’s smirk, he realized it too.

“Sorry, Da-Shixiong! This disciple has brought the supplies you requested and was a bit overzealous in her efforts!” Ning Yingying tried to smile apologetically but her Da-Shixiong was rarely one to allow her to get away with anything.

“Take a lap for disturbing the peace and tranquility of the mountain,” her Da-Shixiong ordered, then he gestured at one of the students to take the supplies from her arms and Ning Yingying cursed herself for being too distracted by the prospect of messing with her Shizun to realize that Da-Shixiong was a slave driver.

Ning Yingyung pouted but didn’t bother trying to get out of her punishment, instead turning around to start her lap of doom.

Luo Binghe, the sweetheart, also put away the supplies to hurry after her.

“Disciple Luo, you do not have to take a lap,” her Da-Shixiong’s long-suffering voice said tiredly.

Ning Yingying bit back her laugh.

“Shizun, this one was unaware that you were going to take over for this class, my deepest apologies for not greeting you sooner,” Da-Shixiong said dryly.

“This master was not-”

“Many thanks to Shizun for the help,” Da-Shixiong, ever the opportunist, said quickly. 

Ning Yingying felt like she would die if she kept her laugh under wraps any longer.

She rushed out of the building and as soon as her steps touched the grass outside she let out a long and loud cackle.

Chapter Text

Shen Yuan hated pain.

He didn’t think that was a controversial opinion to have, didn’t think it was strange to want to be at peace.

Still, sometimes it felt like pain was all he could feel recently.

Like he was a giant bruise that was constantly aching and hurting from the slightest touch. Like he was a ball of nerve endings on fire, flailing around in an attempt to put himself out. Like he was an infected wound, gushing pus and swelling up until he couldn’t even move.

Shen Yuan hated pain, yet sometimes pain was all that he had.

Even when he had lost everything, his family, his home, his former life, even when he had nothing to his name, he still had pain. A shitty consolation prize by any measure.

It was always there, lingering under his skin, waiting to strike, patient in its goals to make Shen Yuan suffer. 

But even if pain was his companion in this new world where his stomach ached from lack of food and his skin colored easily like a new canvas, still he disliked it.

It shouldn’t have been a controversial opinion to have, not liking pain.

But somehow, every single person he had met in this new world, seemed to disagree with him.

They looked at Shen Yuan and harmed him like it was nothing, like he was nothing. 

A doll to throw around when bored or angry, an object incapable of feeling, an animal so pitiful it would take everything its owner dished out and never bite back.

Somehow, just by seeing him, they would think, ‘Ah, yes, this one is destined to writhe under my hands and be completely unable to stop me.’

Shen Yuan hated pain, so he did his best to never feel it again.

Cultivation was supposed to be his way out.

It was supposed to be his savior.

It wasn't.

Because just as pain was Shen Yuan’s unrelenting companion, so too was it Shen Qingqiu’s.

And here’s the thing about pain: it liked to be shared, it liked to infect and spread. 

And those so deeply in pain, became its unwitting servant, following its will and damaging those around them so that their pain might lessen.

But pain never stopped hurting just because it was being inflicted on someone else, it never paused in its torture of its original host.

Shen Yuan was in pain and the person who was hurting him was too.

Shen Yuan blinked, his eyes clouded with agony as he squinted up at a man he would recognize more easily than even his own mother.

“Shizun,” Shen Yuan rasped out. The man, lifting a wet towel to place on Shen Yuan’s forehead, paused.

“Shizun, do you rejoice in the fact that you're killing me? Does it fill you with joy to know that the only other person to truly understand you is dying?” Shen Yuan asked, a laugh falling from his lips as he spoke. He gazed up at Shen Qingqiu as though he could see right through him, as though he could never be surprised by a single thing the other man did.

“You don’t understand me, you're just some arrogant street brat who overestimates himself. You're no different than the rest of the waste that wanders the streets begging for coin like useless layabouts,” Shen Qingqiu scoffed, his fingers tightening on the towel before relaxing once more. He let go and sat back down by Shen Yuan’s bedside. Shen Yuan wondered if he was there to see the labor of his work. The dying boy who might never open his eyes again should he sleep.

“What does that make you then? What does that make the mighty lord who glares down from atop his glorious peak? Does that make you Master? Or does that make you Traitor?” Shen Yuan asked with a bitter smile on his face. He wasn't able to smile for long.

Shen Qingqiu slapped him. The harsh sound echoed through the room. 

Shen Yuan’s head snapped back so hard that it felt like his neck had broken. The ache was indescribable as Shen Yuan held back his tears with practiced ease.

“I am no traitor. Whatever you believe that we have in common is nothing but delusion on your part,” Shen Qingqiu hissed, incandescent with rage. His hand grabbed Shen Yuan’s jaw and turned it so that Shen Yuan was once more looking at him. Shen Qingqiu gripped so tightly that his nails made indents in the skin, making Shen Yuan bleed.

“Listen well, disciple mine, you will die when I tell you to die. You will live when I tell you to live. I have not given my permission for you to go off and join your ancestors by the Yellow Springs and until I have, you will suffer in this mortal realm by my side until it is by my word that you die,” Shen Qingqiu’s words were arrogant, they were self-important, pompous, domineering, haughty, and every other word for overconfident that Shen Yuan could think of.

Shen Yuan hated pain.

But gazing up at his Shizun that seemed to promise nothing but it, Shen Yuan couldn’t help but think he could learn to tolerate it, learn to stop it from hurting quite as much.

Shen Yuan survived that night and the next, and every night that came after that.

His path in cultivating immortality would be more difficult than it might have otherwise been, the scars of having used a false cultivation manual would forever stay a brand on his spiritual veins. Yet still, despite it all, he lived.

He probably should have been more angry about the entire situation, more furious at his potential being stolen from him, and he would be, he would look back on this situation and would seethe with rage at his Shizun’s audacity, would plot in many ways to get even, but for now, he could only feel a distant sort of disbelief.

Disbelief that he managed to survive only by the word of his Shizun.

Chapter Text

Yue Qingyuan winced at the sound of a whip cracking through the air and striking flesh.

It was a sound he was used to but not one he particularly wanted to ever hear again. Shen Qingqiu, aware of Yue Qingyuan’s discomfort, only smiled wider from where he was seated across from Yue Qingyuan, tea coming up to hide his lips but being unable to conceal the glint in his eyes.

“Who’s getting punished?” Yue Qingyuan asked conversationally, acting like everything was fine even when his tongue was sitting heavily in his mouth, taking too much space and unable to move around the words he truly wanted to say.

“Disciple Shen,” Shen Qingqiu huffed, his eyebrows furrowing at even saying the name. Yue Qingyuan had much to say about Disciple Shen, an entire forest would have fewer leaves in their trees than he had words. 

“Again?” He asked instead, his tongue a balled chain to his mind, unwilling to let anything free.

“The boy attempted to make a fool of me,” Shen Qingqiu said, eyes flashing with fondness before anger took front and center stage. But no matter what he did or said to hide it, Yue Qingyuan saw it. He saw Shen Qingqiu’s affection for the boy. It was a daunting sight, a condemnation for all that Yue Qingyuan had failed to be. 

“It's not an attempt if I succeed!” a gleeful and arrogant voice shouts out from where the whipping was taking place. 

Yue Qingyuan turned his gaze to look at the boy. He was tied up, face to a wooden pole, and back bared to the world. And yet, even through the blood already spilled, Yue Qingyuan could see scars covering every inch of it. Still, despite going through what was no doubt unimaginable pain to soft scholars and simpering nobles, Shen Yuan grinned and laughed and joked like it was nothing. 

Most would take that as a strength. They’d look at his unbreakable will, his unbendable back, and they’d see it as a shining example of power. Yue Qingyuan knew better.

He saw it as monstrous.

There was a monster in Qing Jing peak and Shen Qingqiu was feeding it scraps from his jade hands while it snapped at his fingers.

“Clearly you're not being whipped hard enough if you still have the energy to argue with me! Disciple Li, either do as you're ordered or tie yourself up beside your beloved Da-Shixiong to share in his good fortune, ” Shen Qingqiu commanded, eyes alight with rage.

“Mah, Shizun, aren't you being a little hard on the brat? It's not his fault I can barely feel anything anymore,” Shen Yuan laughed, far too joyful for someone being brutally tortured. Shen Qingqiu paused at his words.

Then he narrows his eyes and gets up, his form soon towering like a titan for all that Yue Qingyuan was taller. Yue Qingyuan watched this strange play that seemed to take place through the eyes of an audience member. His own part in the story was stripped from relevance all because Shen Qingqiu would not see anyone but his pet monster when it started snarling at the bars of its cage.

“Give me the whip,” Shen Qingqiu demanded, hand held out to Disciple Li. Disciple Li’s shoulders were hunched and his breathing grew quick, yet still, with trembling hands, he handed his Shizun the whip.

Shen Qingqiu’s smile was one Yue Qingyuan used to see on rich men sure of their excellence and greatness. It was one Qi-Ge remembers his Xiao Jiu looking at with hungry eyes, as though if he observed enough, one day he too would be able to copy.

It was no wonder everyone thought Shen Qingqiu was of noble birth, not when he played the part so beautifully.

Shen Qingqiu took the whip and swung it with a brutal precision made with the sole intention of causing as much pain as possible.

Shen Yuan took the hit without a word, silent. Yue Qingyuan almost couldn’t help the way his body leaned forward. He wondered if now he would see the monster brought low, tamed and trampled, but any thoughts of that notion dissipated when just before the third swing fell upon Shen Yuan’s back, he started laughing.

Shen Yuan laughed like it was all some big joke, like his pain was a joke, like his punishment was a joke, like his Shizun was a joke, like they were all a joke.

Yue Qingyuan was on his feet before his brain could catch up, his eyes frantic as he looked at the monster tied to a post. He looked at his Xiao Jiu, unaware of the danger and slowly drawing himself closer.

Yue Qingyuan felt as though they were all flies, all helpless, powerless insects before a wide maw masquerading as a bowl of water. One that waited with patience and tranquility until they all got tired of flying, until they tried to get a sip of water.

Then, the monster turned his head over his shoulder and his gaze instantly found Yue Qingyuan’s own. 

They weren’t simply black. They were an absence of light.

Yue Qingyuan looked into the monster’s eyes and wondered if he’d just taken a glimpse into the endless abyss.