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Chapter Text

It was just a stupid infection that got him in the end. 

They had been watching him for kidney failure, stroke, blood clots and heart attacks, heart failure, heart palpitations—everything that went along with having blood that was trying to kill you and cooking your own insides to try to stop it.

Every day they had monitored the machines that beeped and whirred by his bedside and said that it was getting better. But he hadn’t felt like he had been getting better. He had felt like he was already dead. If recovering from chemotherapy was something someone could claim as a skill then, even at his tender age of ten years old, Shen Yuan qualified as a seasoned professional. Despite his familiarity with the slow, grueling process, recovery never got any easier. The only thing that had made the experience even mildly tolerable had been the frequent visits of his family, the kindness of the hospital staff, and the old book that never left his bedside. 

Anyone who looked at the book could see that it was loved. The yellowed pages were close to falling out of the spine and the cover was held together with carefully placed strips of tape. There were battered post-it notes poking out from between the pages. The whole book was filled with angry underlines and messy scrawling in the margins, usually including lots of !!! and ?!?! . It was called Pride's Immoral Damaged Way and Shen Yuan had read it cover to cover multiple times despite the fact that it was almost untenably long, sitting like a brick by his bedside.

He had sometimes attempted to summarize the plot of the novel to hospital staff who asked him about it. Almost every time he tried, the different arcs and details fought for equal importance in his mind so that he ended up rambling semi-incoherently for fifteen minutes until the person who had asked would laugh and say something about how they’d just have to read it for themself. 

To be fair, it was a difficult plot to summarize. An old wuxia novel filled with daring adventure, exciting twists, and evil villains brought to justice could not be boiled down to a few short sentences. The story spanned hundreds of years, following multiple lead characters. First, the demonic emperor Tianlang Jun: insane, unstoppable, and ferocious, brought to his knees by a human woman who dies to save the life of their child. Then the human cultivator Shen Qingqiu, who survived a childhood of neglect and abuse to obtain immeasurable power and prestige as an immortal lord of the Cang Qiong Mountain Sect but who ultimately died still ravaged by a past he could never walk away from. And finally, the true star of the novel: Luo Binghe, the orphaned son of the demonic emperor and disciple of the human cultivator who held the suffering of both men on his own shoulders and used it to conquer the world, for better or for worse.

Shen Yuan knew the emperor. He rolled his eyes over at his antics and sighed over his love. He knew the cultivator. He winced at his pain and cheered for his victories. He liked the side characters as well: the cruel and jealous Ming Fan, the tortured and kind Yue Qingyuan, the reticent and strong Liu Qingge. 

But he knew Luo Binghe differently. Shen Yuan read of his loneliness and found companionship. He read of his anger and felt justified of his own. He read of his courage and held his head up on the days that the cancer seemed a monster with claws and teeth. Shen Yuan knew him in the way he knew the sound of his own breathing or how to hide his trembling hands from his sister. Luo Binghe lived in the space between Shen Yuan’s words and Shen Yuan loved him with the fierce, wholehearted devotion of a ten-year-old who didn’t have much else to hold on to.

Shen Yuan knew the weight of the book in his hands. He knew the way it smelled. He knew the texture of the pages. It had been sitting on his nightstand back home, it had been in his backpack everyday when he had been well enough to attend school, and it was sitting on his bedside when he died. 

Just a stupid infection. Something in his food or someone being a little too lax about the immunocompromised warning flagged on the door of his hospital room. A healthy person could have recovered without even knowing that they had ever been sick. But it robbed him of his strength in a day and his life in two. Two days. And they had said he was getting better. 

He didn’t remember much of his final day. He thought his mother had been there but he couldn’t be sure. He thought he had heard someone crying. His sister?

And then he wasn’t aware of anything at all. 

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Shen Yuan woke up.

The first thing he was aware of was how good he felt. He breathed deep, feeling the easy rise of his chest, the soft stretch of his lungs. Wow. Morphine? No. Morphine had never felt this refreshing.

The next thing he was aware of was the sounds. Gone were the beeps and hums of his hospital room. Instead he heard the quiet whisper of leaves in the wind, the soft chirps of bugs, and the light, barely-there sound of breathing. 

He opened his eyes to a large, dark room. He was lying down in one of many identical beds, a sleeping boy in each. Their ages ranged from older looking teens to young kids about Shen Yuan’s age. There was a neat, almost sterile cleanliness to the entire room but there were small decorations and personal artifacts hanging from the walls and propped on nightstands. White curtains billowed lazily in front of large, open windows, letting in fresh air that was clean, cool, and sweet. Despite having no idea where he was or how he got here, Shen Yuan felt immediately safe.

He slowly sat up properly, slowly, testing his body. He waited for the aches and fatigue to catch up to him, but the more awake he became the stronger he felt. He kicked his legs off the side of the bed and stood, stretching both his arms above his head and breathing deep before letting out the breath in a silent laugh. He marveled at the ease of his movements and the lack of pain.

Was this the afterlife? Was he… a ghost? An angel? A god? He didn’t care, he just hoped he could keep being it forever.

“Kun Qingwa?”

Shen Yuan looked towards the quiet whisper. There was a young man looking at him with sleepy confusion from his bed. Shen Yuan didn’t recognize the name but the guy was looking directly at him so he must have been addressing him. There was a small part of Shen Yuan that wanted to ask him to please not call him that but then it occurred to him that Kun Qingwa might be his name here. The idea was deeply alarming. He would have to fix that. 

 “Sorry, did I wake you?” he whispered back, aware of the other still-sleeping bodies.

“No, it’s okay,” whispered the other, sitting up. He looked around the room, still confused, before looking at Shen Yuan. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

The other boy looked at Shen Yuan critically then said, a little more firmly, “It’s hours before morning—go back to sleep.”

The thought of lying down and wasting this beautiful energy felt like a horrible offense. Shen Yuan shook his head. “I’m going to go for a walk.” 

The boy’s expression twisted in surprise and confusion and then all at once relaxed with sudden understanding. He threw off his covers and soundlessly got to his feet as well. There was something about him that felt familiar but Shen Yuan couldn’t put his finger on it. “Fine. I’m already awake, I might as well go with you.”

Shen Yuan started to protest but then noticed the odd clothes the boy was wearing; long white pants under a long lightweight white robe. The boy pulled a box out from under his bed and removed a perfectly folded set of teal and white robes which he shook open and put on with practiced familiarity. The boy looked back at Shen Yuan and raised an eyebrow. 

“Are you going to go on a walk in your sleeping robes?” 

Shen Yuan looked down at himself and was startled to see that he wore the same lightweight white pants and robe. He crouched down and looked under the bed he had just gotten out of and found an identical box with an identical set of teal and white robes. He put them on along with the shoes and belt. They fit perfectly. Incredible. The afterlife thought of everything.

Shen Yuan stepped out of the cabin into the night. The silver light of the full moon cast the world in a hazy, barely-there glow. Shen Yuan looked around in awe at the beautiful clearing he found himself in; a quiet stream, pillowy grass, and small, idyllic little houses like the one he had just walked out of. The whole clearing was surrounded on all sides with a beautiful, expansive bamboo forest. 

The whole place almost reminded him of…

But that was ridiculous. 

The boy exited the cabin behind Shen Yuan. He silently closed the door behind them then gave Shen Yuan a little shove on the shoulder, friendly and familiar. “C’mon, Shidi. You wanted to walk. Start walking.” 

Shidi? Huh. Who knew the afterlife kinda felt like a wuxia novel, haha.

They started walking down a worn trail that wove through the trees. The boy seemed to not expect conversation, which suited Shen Yuan just fine. He lost himself in the wonder of this place. He heard the quiet babbling of a stream. He looked up through the leaves of the bamboo and saw the large moon and the endless pinpricks of far-off stars. 

They walked in silence for a long time before the boy eventually spoke again, his voice vaguely tense. “Don’t let Shizun get to you.”

Shen Yuan tore his eyes away from the sea of stars to look at the boy with what he hoped was an appropriate level of confusion. 

The boy nodded, like he expected this reaction. “I know he was a little harsh with you yesterday. Personally, I thought your forms looked fine. Maybe they weren’t perfect but I didn’t think they looked—what had he said? Slovenly? But he’s the peak lord for a reason, and he has high expectations for all his disciples. It’s an honor, really, to be rebuked. It’s proof that he knows you can do better. This is how we improve.”

Shen Yuan offered some generic agreement like he understood, but most of the space in his brain was dedicated to the realization that was slowly creeping up on him with his steadily rising heart rate. The realization was partly due to the conversation and partly due to the way he could now see that the trail was leading them into another familiar-looking clearing. The stream in this clearing was wider. There was one house in the middle of the yard, larger and grander than the others. The house looked like… it looked just like—

Shen Yuan forced himself to keep walking, forced himself to nod and give tentative responses to the slightly mean-spirited encouragement of the boy next to him, until, suddenly, the boy stopped walking. Shen Yuan almost ran right into him. He opened his mouth to ask what was the matter and saw that the boy was staring at something by the creek. Shen Yuan followed his gaze and froze. 

There was a man standing by the creek in the moonlight. His robes fluttered in the breeze, his long hair blacker than ink in the moonlight. There was something in how he stood that made Shen Yuan think of ice.

Shen Yuan knew it was Shen Qingqiu immediately. His lingering doubt about where he was vanished like smoke on the wind. 

Shen Qingqiu wasn’t real. He was a book character. He was fake. Shen Yuan had read his story a hundred times. He couldn’t be real.

It was impossible that this man was Shen Qingqiu but it was him nevertheless.

Shen Yuan looked quickly to the boy at his side and startled to realize that this had to be Ming Fan, with his single-minded dedication to Qing Jing Peak and his slightly onerous way of speaking. Judging by Ming Fan’s age, this moment must be around the time of the introduction of the final protagonist.

But… who did that make him? He didn’t remember reading the name Kun Qingwa. Was he some random cannon fodder that was so unimportant he hadn’t been named in the original story? That was a little insulting. He didn’t have to be a protagonist but at least give him a character that appeared on-screen. What was this second-rate fanfiction-ass plot? 

Shen Yuan was brought back to the present when Shen Qingqiu turned around to face them. What little sound the two disciples' light footfalls made on their approach should have been covered by the sounds of the stream, but it was clear they had been heard. Or at least sensed. Shen Yuan felt Shen Qingqiu’s cool regard from across the clearing. Next to him Ming Fan bowed his head in greeting and Shen Yuan rushed to do the same, biting back the unhinged laughter that he felt bubbling up inside him. 

He was in Pride's Immoral Damaged Way . He was standing in front of Shen Qingqiu as a disciple of Qing Jing Peak. Oh my god, did Shen Yuan have cultivation powers now? He felt a thrill shoot through him at the thought. This was the coolest hallucination ever.

“Ming Fan, I don’t seem to recall requesting your presence at this hour,” said Shen Qingqiu at the perfect volume to be heard across the distance and not a decibel more. His voice sounded just how Shen Yuan imagined it would: cutting and precise.

Ming Fan stood up straight and stiff, his posture almost uncomfortably correct. “Apologies for disturbing you, Shizun.”

Shen Qingqiu studied Ming Fan cooly for a long moment before his gaze shifted to Shen Yuan somewhat dispassionately.

“And you? Are you going to share responsibility for interrupting my peace or are your manners as poor as your forms?”

Ah, wow, his first time being scolded by Shen Qingqiu! This was so cool! Shen Yuan focused on not letting his giddy delight bubble to the surface, bowing shallowly and offering up an apology of his own. 

Shen Qingqiu neither accepted or rejected either apology but rather let them splat to the ground somewhere in the grass between them. His robes stirred gently in the breeze, the movement making him appear even stiller by comparison, a marble statue draped in silks.

“I am in no mood to deal with you tonight,” said Shen Qingqiu. ( Are you ever? Thought Shen Yuan, delighted.) “Ming Fan, take Kun Qingwa back to the cabin.”

Ugh, there was that name again. Shen Yuan winced. This would be a perfect dream if only the people here knew that—“My name is Shen Yuan.”

He hadn’t intended to speak but his voice rang clear across the clearing. Beside him he heard Ming Fan’s breath catch. He recalled somewhat belatedly Shen Qingqiu’s capricious temper. No one seemed to be able to predict what would set him off but surely an unwelcome correction after an unwelcome intrusion would be one of them. 

“If you think that you can change your name to curry favor you would be very mistaken,” said the immortal cooly after a stiff silence. “On the contrary, you might find yourself inviting a rather unflattering comparison.”

….Ah. Same family name. That was inconvenient. Whoops. Well, in for a penny. Shen Yuan lifted his chin the smallest amount, determined to not back down. 

“I have no design past my own preference,” said Shen Yuan because it was true and because it sounded like something a disciple of Qing Jing Peak would say. knew nothing of the past of this Kun Qingwa. He tried for a moment to think of an excuse that would suffice but then he realized with almost smug satisfaction that Shen Qingqiu didn’t care to know anything about this disciple’s past anyway. “It’s an old name that I wish to return to.” 

“Old?”

“Yes. From my family.”

“Time moves forward,” said Shen Qingqiu with an edge to his words that hadn’t been there a moment before. “Foolish men chase the past. I will not have one of my disciples pretending to live in a memory.”

For a moment Shen Yuan felt every bit as childish as the tone implied. He considered conceding and accepting Kun Qingwa as his new name. But didn’t he know Shen Qingqiu inside and out? What was the point of having his omniscient viewpoint that he had if he didn’t use it to his advantage? 

So he said, “It would be an embarrassment to have known that I was returning to a name from my home, but who would know unless you or Ming Fan told them? If you let me do this I will leave my pride in your hands.” 

Shen Qingqiu regarded Shen Yuan for a moment longer before nodding once, accepting the blackmail for what it was. He humphed—in amusement or contrition, Shen Yuan couldn't tell—before turning away with a dismissive, “Leave me then, Shen Yuan.” 

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In the morning, Shen Yuan was a little surprised to discover that he once again awoke in the boys cabin of Qing Jing Peak. When he had fallen asleep he had bid farewell to this beautiful dream and when he woke up to it once more he was filled with excitement and wonder. He wondered how long this little dalliance in the afterlife would last. 

With nothing else to do but roll with it, Shen Yuan went through the day following the routines of the other disciples. He was pleased to discover that most of the skills he needed either came to him as muscle-memory or could be pulled from knowledge he had gained reading the novel. 

He was pleased that he had taken over the body of one of the younger boys who seemed to be near him in age. He would have felt very uncomfortable in the body of an older boy. He didn’t know how to shave or how to talk like a teenager and he didn’t want to have to deal with girls. An added benefit: people seemed to generally like him. He got lots of smiles and cheerful greetings as he walked through the common room and around the grounds. He met other kids his age, some known to him (Ning Yingying was as charming and adorable as he had imagined) but most not. His day was freckled with slightly awkwardly asking people to call him Shen Yuan, but everyone was quick to adopt the new name.

He spent the whole morning waiting for someone to mention Luo Binghe. By lunchtime, he had determined that his favorite protagonist hadn’t entered the story yet. He was a little disappointed by this. He had been looking forward to meeting him. What was the point of being on Qing Jing Peak if Luo Binghe wasn’t there with him?

After lunch he practiced his forms in a group led by Ming Fan and then spent a long stretch of hours copying calligraphy of classic poems, which he found rather boring but pleasantly easy. Shen Yuan had always had perfect handwriting and it seemed the body he took over also had a steady hand. 

By dinner, he decided that he was actually relieved that Luo Binghe had yet to arrive on Qing Jing Peak. Binghe’s first few years on Cang Qiong mountains were rather brutal due to the vicious bullying encouraged by the jealous and bitter Shen Qingqiu who feared that Luo Binghe’s natural talents would one day surpass his own. Those scenes had been enough to read, he didn’t even want to know how difficult they would be to witness firsthand. It was probably a good thing that he was just passing through.

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When Shen Yuan woke to his tenth day on Qing Jing Peak he began to seriously consider that this might be more of a permanent arrangement.

This idea struck him as both beautiful beyond comprehension and a serious issue. Beautiful, because he had done more living in the past ten days than he had in years. He had ran and laughed and studied and explored and strategized. He had moved water with his mind and he had made friends and he couldn’t tell which felt more fantastic. He hadn’t felt weakness or numbness or pain. So why was it a serious issue that he might be here permanently? What reason could it be other than Luo Binghe.

Reading the novel, Shen Yuan had assumed that Qing Jing Peak disciples were a bit of a nasty lot, always looking for a reason to cut someone else down. But having gotten to know them personally he knew that this couldn’t be further from the truth. They tended to be a little conniving and ruthless, but at the end of the day Shen Yuan liked them all immensely. Cunning was not an antonym of kind. As a group, their only flaw was that they were all so desperate for the approval and validation of Shen Qingqiu that they would sacrifice their own values in a heartbeat to please him. It wasn’t that they wanted to be cruel; Luo Binghe’s arrival and Shen Qingqiu's subsequent jealousy had brought out their very worst and shattered the fragile but idyllic peace.

Shen Yuan didn’t want to watch these generally good kids devolve into bullies. Bullies who would—thank you, reader’s perspective— later be killed in retribution for their playground crimes. Killed! For a few years of bad choices brought on mostly by peer pressure! It didn’t feel right. But while the mistreatment of these cannon fodder kids made him a little upset, the mistreating Luo Binghe made him absolutely incensed. He liked his fellow disciples. He really did. But if he had to watch them shove Luo Binghe into the mud and beat him with sticks he might kill them himself. 

Shen Yuan didn’t think there was anything he could do to stop the wheels that were already turning to bring Luo Binghe to Cang Qiong mountain, but that didn’t mean there was nothing he could do. He had time to make this place safe for Binghe, however he could. 

But how could he make the peak safe for him? How could he nullify the danger of misplaced hero-worship and mob-mentality? He briefly entertained the idea of trying to convince the other disciples that Shen Qingqiu wasn’t worth their adoration but he brushed that idea off almost as quickly as it came. Fat chance. Shen Qingqiu drifted through Qing Jing Peak like an irritable but favored pet cat, and without Luo Binghe around his worst crime against his disciples was being a generally negative and mean-spirited person, which was unfortunate but not exactly a punishable offense. Some even argued that his callous attitude was part of his teaching and that it even contributed to why they were so dedicated to him. 

Shen Yuan spent a full day brainstorming. He picked at his food. His attention drifted during lessons. He tossed and turned at night, kept awake with the knowledge that he had one chance to spare Luo Binghe from the events that would trigger a lifetime of pain and suffering.

The solution hit him right before he drifted off to sleep. He sat bolt upright in his bed, prompting Ming Fan who had the nearest bunk to his to startle awake with a jolt. Shen Yuan whispered an apology and Ming Fan rolled his eyes and went back to sleep, mumbling something about children that Shen Yuan didn’t think he was supposed to hear. 

But Shen Yuan didn’t care what Ming Fan thought of him. He finally had a plan. It was reckless and stupid and it might blow up in his face and make everything worse, but Shen Yuan thought that he had a pretty good chance of pulling it off. Afterall, this was a story. What sort of story set up an elaborate plot just to change gears last-minute and leave behind plot-holes and dissatisfied readers? 

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Step One! Get on Shen Qingqiu’s good side 

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“Excuse me, Shizun, do you have a moment?”

“No,” said Shen Qingqiu, staring motionlessly into a cup of tea. “I’m quite busy.”

“Oh.” Shen Yuan was standing just inside the threshold of the bamboo house. He looked around the room, taking in the lack of any open scroll or books or ledgers or literally anything that Shen Qingqiu could have been working on. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

Shen Qingqiu finally looked up from his tea with an almost disgusted sneer. “You?” he said, his eyes moved quickly over Shen Yuan’s tiny form, looking like he was appraising a slightly fowl-smelling pile of mud. “No, I don’t think so.”

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“Shen Yuan! Eyes up! Never look at the ground during martial arts, you imbecile .”

“Yes, Shizun.” Shen Yuan felt his face flush slightly from the insult and was grateful that he was already a little flushed from the strain of the exercise. He forced himself to say, “Thanking you for your guidance and support.”

Shen Qingqiu scoffed. “As if it will amount to anything.”

Ming Fan, who was leading the exercises, threw Shen Yuan a discrete thumbs up. Shen Yuan gritted his teeth.

°❀°

“Good morning, Shizun. Is there anything I can do to help with the An Ding reports that are going out this week?” 

“Your Shixiong will do it.”

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“Shizun, can you—”

“Please, Shen Yuan, we both know this isn’t important.”

°❀°

“Shizun—”

“Leave me. I swear I’ve seen infants more self-sufficient than you’ve been these last few days. Stop engaging me, you’re embarrassing yourself.”

After this last conversation, Shen Yuan added a step zero. 

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Step Zero: Find out if Shen Qingqiu has a good side.

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Shen Yuan had never been to Qiong Ding Peak. He didn’t really know what to expect. It was a minor location in PIDW and many of those scenes had been in the Ling Xi caves.

Yue Qingyuan had been surprised and visibly concerned to have a disciple of Qing Jing Peak arrive suddenly on his doorstep. The disciple who greeted Shen Yuan at the door deposited him at Yue Qingyuan’s study before being summarily dismissed, Yue Qingyuan quickly ushering Shen Yuan inside to have a seat. 

“Is everything alright?” Yue Qingyuan asked, his voice tense with worry. 

Shen Yuan felt bad for alarming him and quickly raised both hands slightly in an ‘all is well’ gesture. “A thousand apologies for concerning you, Master Yue. Conditions on Qing Jing Peak are as excellent as ever and Shizun has his full health.” 

In truth, Shen Yuan knew that Yue Qingyuan didn’t give much of a shit about the conditions of Qing Jing Peak. As ever, his central concern was his precious a-Jiu; everything else was a distant second.

Yue Qingyuan visibly relaxed, taking a moment to collect himself. “Ah, that’s good. That’s good. It’s not often that one of Master Shen’s disciples shows up on Qiong Ding Peak unexpected and unannounced, forgive me for being a little alarmed.”

He said the words lightly but Shen Yuan recognized the gentle rebuke. He winced, looking down at the rosewood table between them.

“I apologize for my impropriety. In truth, Master Yue,” said Shen Yuan slowly, “I’ve been worried about Shizun. He’s healthy and his cultivation is as strong as ever, but he’s been acting more and more despondent. We disciples have tried to cheer him up but it seems there is nothing we can do. We thought, perhaps, Master Yue would have an idea.”

Shen Yuan was only lying a little. Shen Qingqiu had been acting despondent but not more than usual. The Qing Jing Peak disciples had tried to cheer him up—they always tried—but none of them had suggested taking the matter to the Cang Qiong sect leader. 

Yue Qingyuan hummed and from the tone of it Shen Yuan already knew that he was about to give him regrettable news. “I am very sorry to hear of this Shizhi, but if Shen Shidi is in a negative state the only assistance I can provide is to stay quiet and keep my distance. I fear my involvement will only make the situation much worse.”

“That can’t be the case,” said Shen Yuan, eyes wide. Now he was lying more than just a little. “Of all the peak lords, Master Yue is the only one Shizun speaks highly of to us disciples. Weren’t you inseparable friends in the past?”

Yue Qingyuan’s friendly eyes flashed suddenly with something dark and sharp. Shen Yuan would have missed it if he hadn’t known it was coming. Yue Qingyuan tilted his head, looking mild and curious. Shen Yuan knew that inside he was burning. 

“He told you this?” said Yue Qingyuan. 

Shen Yuan pretended to wince. “Ah. Not exactly. But he has been speaking in his sleep. I pieced things together. But it’s the truth, then? Surely, you of all people would have advice on how someone might endear themselves to him.”

Yue Qingyuan’s eyes drifted from Shen Yuan to one of the large open windows. After a long moment, Yue Qingyuan said, very quietly, “That was long ago. Things change. Life is always moving forward. Only fools chase the past.” 

It was so nearly identical to the words Shen Qingqiu had said on Shen Yuan’s first night on Qing Jing Peak that Shen Yuan was almost sure that Yue Qingyuan was quoting Shen Qingqiu.

Shen Yuan grappled for something to say that would encourage Yue Qingyuan to cough up some advice but it was clear that the man didn’t want to talk about this much longer. At least not with some no-one disciple from someone else’s peak. 

But as Shen Yuan watched Yue Qingyuan stare out the window he couldn’t help but see the longing in his expression.

Hmm. 

If the goal was just to make Shen Qingqiu…well, not nice but less volatile then Shen Yuan didn’t have to be the one being a positive influence on him directly. In Pride’s Immoral, Damaged Way Shen Qingqiu’s inability to heal his relationship with Yue Qingyuan was a major source of pain and anger throughout that triggered many rash decisions that ultimately resulted in his miserable death. And to make it worse, their estrangement was really all based on misunderstanding! Ungnh, is there anything more frustrating than miscommunication as a plot point!!! Shen Yuan had wanted to slam the book shut and bang it against his head repeatedly. Just! Talk! To! Each other!!

But now Shen Yuan had a chance to smooth this very frustrating misunderstanding over before it snowballed into years of resentment and anguish, and in doing so, it was likely that Shen Qingqiu would emerge more emotionally stable. 

So Shen Yuan changed step zero. 

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Step Zero: Redux: Get Yue Qingyuan and Shen Qingqiu on Speaking Terms

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“Master Yue,” said Shen Yuan politely, “If you don’t have advice on how I can help Shen Qingqiu then perhaps we can allow Shen Qingqiu to better help himself. I’m sure that Shen Qingqiu would appreciate some time in the Ling Xi caves to recenter himself. If you are amiable, I can take news of your invitation.”

Cultivation in the Ling Xi caves was supposed to be restricted to the bettering of personal cultivation and the achieving of specific goals, it was not supposed to be used for emotional holidays. But Yue Qingyuan readily agreed, as Shen Yuan knew he would. In PIDW, Yue Qingyuan never once turned away a valid excuse to offer Shen Qingqiu a favoritism.

Shen Yuan returned to Qing Jing Peak and slipped the news to Ming Fan who delivered the invitation to Shen Qingqiu. Shen Qingqiu was suspicious and hyper-ornery for a day or two but Ming Fan eventually updated Shen Yuan that Shen Qingqiu had accepted the offer and intended to be at Ling Xi caves the following week. 

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Shen Yuan accompanied Shen Qingqiu to the Ling Xi caves. Perhaps ‘followed’ is the better word. Shen Qingqiu kept scowling lightly at him over his shoulder, but Shen Yuan insisted on tailing him all the way to the caves. “Shizun should have someone with him incase he needs to send anything back to Qing Jing Peak.” He had insisted. “It is a disciple’s duty to make sure that Shizun is taken care of.”

Shen Qingqiu had rolled his eyes but had grumpily acquiesced. 

It was standard practice for a peak lord to enter the caves accompanied. Usually that escort was Yue Qingyuan. When they arrived at the mouth of the Ling Xi caves, Yue Qingyuan was standing there waiting for Shen Qingqiu’s arrival, looking proper and almost aggressively easygoing.

“Ah, Master Shen,” Yue Qingyuan greeted too eagerly. “I’m so pleased that you have accepted this offer to cultivate in the wonderful Ling Xi caves. We—”

“Shen Yuan will escort me inside,” said Shen Qingqiu curtly, opening his fan with a sharp snap of his wrist. “Thank you.”

Yue Qingyuan glanced down at Shen Yuan with clear confusion. “Ah, this is—where is the good Ming Fan? I hear his studies are progressing excellently.”

“Ming Fan has been less disappointing than others,” Shen Qingqiu conceded, “Shen Yuan’s training is so hopeless that I don’t mind him taking the time for trivial tasks such as these.”

Shen Yuan couldn’t help but be a little offended but he made sure his pleasant expression never waivered. 

Yuan Qingyuan seemed to struggle for what to say for a moment but then he collected himself and said, “Still I wish to accompany my Shidi into the caves. It is tradition. I will be brief.”

Shen Yuan breathed an internal sigh of relief. Thank the heavens. All this would have been for nothing if all three of them weren’t in the caves together. 

The best Shen Yuan could tell, if Yue Qingyuan was going to accompany Shen Qingqiu into the caves then there was no reason Shen Yuan shouldn’t be ordered to wait outside. Still, neither man so much as glanced Shen Yuan’s direction before turning and walking into the Ling Xi caves. Maybe they had forgotten he was there. Maybe they both wanted a third person around to buffer the tense energy that was buzzing between them. Whatever the reason, Shen Yuan was glad to see that narrative intrigue was working in his favor.

He followed Shen Qingqiu and Yue Qingyuan into the caves, trailing a few feet behind. This meant he walked quite slow, since Shen Qingqiu insisted on walking a few steps behind Yue Qingyuan who kept slowing his pace to try to walk shoulder-to-shoulder with his shidi. After a minute of unsuccessfully sporadically slowing down or even stopping to try to arrange this, Yue Qingyuan gave up and accepted his role as silent line-leader. Shen Yuan saw the sect leader’s shoulders move with his silent, disappointed sigh. Shen Qingqiu must have seen it too, as he let out a quiet and derisive scoff. 

The Ling Xi caves were less beautiful than Shen Yuan had imagined they’d be. For the most part it was just a cave: rocks, dirt, narrow passageways, and more rocks. There were some small crystalline growths that emitted enough faintly glowing light for Shen Yuan to be able to see clearly no matter how much the cave twisted and dove into the earth.

Still, he almost overlooked it: the faint scratches in the walls, the small flicker of negative energy. He slowed to a stop in front of the next split in the passageway, looking hard at the small enclave tucked behind a short cluster of stalagmites. If the Ling Xi caves were less beautiful than Shen Yuan had imagined, this particular corner was more sinister and foul as Shen Yuan had dared to consider. The floor and walls were stained black with what Shen Yuan knew was blood. The scratches in the walls were so deep Shen Yuan’s nail beds ached just looking at them. Up close, the whole place reeked with residual energy that was so dark Shen Yuan felt faintly nauseous —or maybe that was due to the knowledge of what had happened here. 

He took a breath to steady himself. Then he called out, “Master Yue?”

Shen Yuan could swear that he heard the sound of Shen Qingqiu’s already low regard of him falling so low it splat into the wet cave floor. The two peak lords were fairly far away from him now, having kept walking as Shen Yuan stopped to look at the enclave, but to Yue Qingyuan’s credit he barely hesitated a moment before retracing his steps to answer the call of the young nobody disciple who had already caused him trouble in the past. Shen Qingqiu didn’t try to hide his scowl as he followed.

“Shen Yuan, how dare you call to your Shibo in such a manner? And making your superiors come to you? I would say that you bring shame to your entire sect but it seems that feelings of shame are beyond you. You’re lucky no one else was here to witness this.”

“How can I help, Shen Shizhi?” Said Yue Qingyuan kindly. 

Shen Yuan swallowed and bowed deeply in apology before rising and gestured to the cave. “This place is full of sinister energy. The disciples all have stories and theories about what happened here and I fear letting these stories run wild will bring discord and fear. I know that, as the keeper of these caves, you must know their real history. My question is, Master Yue, what happened here?”

Yue Qingyuan’s eyes moved slowly from Shen Yuan to the scarred, blood-stained walls.

Shen Yuan gripped the folded cloth in his pocket. He could feel the little bump within the cloth where the pollen was waiting. He knew he would only get one chance. If he messed this up—hell, even if he did everything right—he was risking expulsion from the sect. 

Because he was watching for it, Shen Yuan caught the moment Yue Qingyuan’s gaze flickering to Shen Qingqiu’s pissed-off profile, there and gone again, as light as quick as a dragonfly.

Now.

Shen Yuan pulled the cloth out of his pocket. It was a small square of fabric, folded in on itself to create a small pocket that opened easily when one shook out the cloth. Inside the pocket was a spoonful of something that Shen Yuan was in so, so much trouble for. 

Pride's Immoral Damaged Way had a few interesting quirks. One of the recurring quirks was the existence of a seemingly endless supply of flowers with magic properties. Many of these were used for healing or teas. Others were mentioned in legends, songs, or stories that contributed to the over-all worldbuilding. A select few were used as plot-points. For example, Tianlang Jun had once used a rare flower to temporarily make his bones denser so that he could more easily fight a river monster underwater. Another time, Shen Qingqiu had been tricked as a child into eating a magical flower that compelled him to speak in rhymes for a day. If Shen Yuan hadn’t known better, he would have said that the use of all these deus ex machina magic flowers was the sign of a lazy author. But he did know better. And it was just one of those things.

There was a line in the story that had mentioned a flower whose pollen would show the memories of one of the people who inhaled the pollen to the other people who inhaled the pollen of the same flower at the same time. He had learned that the flower was a well-established part of this society. It was apparently pretty commonly used in fantasy marriage counseling. Shen Yuan had had no trouble finding it at the local pharmacy, Herbs N’ More, though the woman at the shop had looked at him strangely when he ordered it. 

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing with this pollen, young man?” she had asked while she had carefully pulled the fine off-white powder out from behind a glass door.

“I’m sure, miss.” 

Now, Shen Yuan watched the pollen puff off of the cloth. It bloomed in the air like smoke. 

The moment he breathed in the fine dust of the pollen he felt… wrong. Not sick, not in pain, but like he was over there and his body was two feet to the left. He wished, suddenly, that he had let the shopkeeper talk him out of this.

Shen Qingqiu saw it first. He recoiled from the powder, recognizing it the way he recognized everything—as a threat. His narrowed, wild eyes met Shen Yuan’s own. 

The moment Shen Yuan became the focus of Shen Qingqiu’s razor-sharp attention he felt the sudden swoop of adrenaline. There was a quality in Shen Qingqiu’s gaze that he had never seen before. It was something dark and steady and inhuman. Shen Yuan had always been aware of Shen Qingqiu’s strength in a distant way, the way you knew a tiger at a zoo was dangerous, theoretically. This was the first time that Shen Yuan looked at Shen Qingqiu and felt the fear of knowing, clear and simple, that this man could kill him. Shen Qingqiu could kill him, and it wouldn’t even be hard for him to do. 

Shen Yuan had a moment to comprehend this, the weight of it settling over him like the mountain over his head. And then his consciousness lost its fight against the pollen. The world around him trembled, shuddered, then blacked out completely.

No that wasn’t right, he was fine. He blinked. He was… looking at himself. He was looking at himself from the vantage point of where Shen Qingqiu had been standing. 

He looked down. He was Shen Qingqiu. Before this could fully register, the world warped again in a nauseating vortex of color and sound and then he was himself again. He stumbled and fell to his knees but before he even hit the ground he was standing five paces away, again Shen Qingqiu, looking at himself, looking at Shen Qingqiu, looking at himself, and then—

—he was too small to fight all these older boys himself but if he didn’t they would steal the meager stock of food that he had Qi-ge had collected. His throat was raw and dry and his whole body ached from hunger but he had to be strong, had to think of something, anything. He couldn’t let these boys take their food and he couldn’t get hurt too bad because if he died Qi-ge had no one else. He had to think. What did they want, what could he—

The cave slurred back together in a slow distortion of color and sound. 

Shen Yuan was aware, distantly, that he had just seen glimpses of a memory from the childhood of intensely private Shen Qingqiu. He could tell from Yue Qingyuan’s sudden intake of air and Shen Qingqiu’s shocked expression that Shen Qingqiu and Yue Qingyuan had seen it too. Shen Qingqiu took a step back, pressing a hand to his temple. He looked… scared. 

Shen Yuan wanted Shen Qingqiu to know that he understood. He had been there too, after all, when all these memories had transpired, the passive god watching it all unfold. “It’s okay.” Shen Yuan tried to say. He heard his own voice as if underwater and very far away. Maybe he wasn’t talking at all. He couldn’t feel his mouth move. He said, “It’s okay. I’ve been you before.” 

It didn’t really make sense but somehow he knew it was true. 

Shen Yuan had been hit first and hardest with the pollen, but the other two were only a second behind and they knew it. Shen Qingqiu reached out to yank Yue Qingyuan away from the spreading cloud of pollen at the same moment that Yue Qingyuan moved to push Shen Qingqiu out of harm’s way, both reverting to old habits in their moment of panic, but it was already too late.

He knew the moment the pollen fully took effect because it was the moment Shen Yuan’s brain shattered. 

He was light. He was sound. He was the space between every atom and he was the pulsing sonic boom as they exploded together to form something new. He was the molten core of the earth, he was a forest on fire, he was a supernova, he was the electricity that raced down a nerve, running faster, faster, faster, he was a sun, he was burning, he was—

He was cold. 

There was a quiet drip, drip, drip of water on the cave floor.

Drip.

Time passed in a distortion of footsteps and light and rolling waves of consciousness someone had brought him food someone was talking to him someone was screaming someone had been leaving gashes in the walls of the cave, who was doing that. who was screaming who was—

Drip.

He was in a room. A proper room this time, wearing the robes of a disciple. Again, he said, his voice unbroken and clear. I’ll do it again.

An older man watched, his brow pinched in concern.

His legs trembled. He could feel the burning numbness starting in his hands and feet, signs that he was about to push his pathways to the limit, but he couldn’t stop, he couldn’t rest, because somewhere out there A-Jiu was still in that place with those heathens who treated him like—

He took a breath. Again.

Drip.

His throat was raw, he couldn’t tell if he was screaming, there were hands on him, hands everywhere, voices, what were they saying? why couldn’t he see—

The qi in his body boiled with a frantic, angry, helplessness. Please, his body yelled. Please, he’s waiting for me, I need to get back I need to A-Jiu — I need to get away from here, I need—

Drip.

He had slept in the field again. He must have passed out while running drills. He didn’t know when he had stopped but he had started well into the night. 

He pulled himself to his feet, stumbling when an ache that felt more like dying than the hunger ever had washed over his body in a wave. He closed his eyes against the pain. 

A-Jiu.

He opened his eyes and once more focused his qi into a narrow stream.

“You’ll have a deviation, at this rate,” his teacher had said, frowning.

He didn’t understand. He didn’t care. 

Drip.

A deviation. It was this.  It was surviving everything and making it so far just to die alone in a cave. It was knowing that A-Jiu was still in that place with the men more monstrous than any beast or any demon and Qingyuan was powerless to do anything to help. 

Shen Jiu was waiting for Qingyuan to come back for him. And Qingyuan would. He would go and he would kill everyone who had kept A-Jiu in chains, everyone who had ever hurt him, and everyone who had profited from his pain. 

A-Jiu. 

Sometimes Qingyuan hated him for how much space he took up. Qingyuan couldn’t love him halfway. A-Jiu was his protector, his friend, his companion, his guide, his god. He was also his poltergeist and his worst nightmare and his biggest headache. He was everything. He was the sword and he was the wound and he was the tender hands that healed it. Qingyuan loved him with a fury that felt like religion. He hated Shen Jiu for owning so much of him but he hated himself more for feeling anything other than devotion.

He would get out of here and then he would save him and then they would be a little more equal. They would have saved each other. Maybe then they could start to sort out all the broken years they shared between them.

He just had to get out. 

He needed to get out. 

He needed to rescue Shen Jiu.

A-Jiu.

A-Jiu

             A-Jiu

A-

Shen Yuan slammed back into his own body like a car hitting a brick wall at top speed. He gasped raggedly, the feeling of panic lingering stubbornly in his chest like a physical thing.

He was aware of the sound of labored breathing that wasn’t his own. He forced his eyes to move and saw Yue Qingyuan, still standing but pressed against the cave wall like it was the only thing holding him up. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut, his hands pressed hard against his skull.

Shen Yuan’s eyes moved past Yue Qingyuan to see where, collapsed, sitting inelegantly on the dirty cave floor, drawing hard, irregular breaths, was the austere Qing Jing Peak lord. His eyes were wide. A few feet away lay his broken fan.

“What… what was that?” Said Shen Qingqiu, his voice shaky and entirely unfamiliar. No one responded. He tried again. “Those visions. Was that real?”

Yue Qingyuan shuddered. Without opening his eyes, he gave a jerky nod. 

The cave was silent for a long minute, then Shen Jiu said, “Qingyuan, look at me.”

Qingyuan looked.

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After the incident in the Ling Xi caves, Shen Qingqiu’s mood was… not worse, but very different. He was quiet and withdrawn. No one saw him eat. Ming Fan was convinced he wasn’t sleeping. 

A few days passed with the Qing Jing Peak disciples tiptoeing around their Shizun even more than usual. And then, one day, Shen Yuan’s frankly miserable practice on the guqin was interrupted with a summons to the bamboo house. He went there immediately, convinced that Shen Qingqiu had finally remembered that the whole thing had been Shen Yuan’s fault for bringing that stupid flower pollen and for throwing it in the air like confetti at the worst birthday party ever and was about to either punish him viciously or kick him out of the sect. It alarmed him that he realized he would rather be doled punishment than have to leave this place. He had only been here for a few weeks but he had already fallen in love with the peace of the tranquil mountain and the companionship of his fellow disciples.

And he still hadn’t met Luo Binghe.

When he arrived at the bamboo house, Shen Qingqiu was waiting for him just inside the door. Shen Yuan halted abruptly in the threshold, dropping into a stiff and low bow. 

“You will never be proficient at the guqin,” said the peak lord by way of greeting. “You lack the fundamental grasp of musicality that is required to perfect such a skill.” 

Shen Yuan blinked and pulled himself upright. “Yes, Shizun,” he said, confused. This was not what he had expected to hear. 

Shen Qingqiu regarded him for a long moment before holding something small and white to him. Shen Yuan took it. It was a letter, folded over itself and sealed with a wax stamp. Judging by the weight of it, its contents were rather long. 

Shen Yuan looked back up at Shen Qingqiu, even more confused, and was surprised to see that Shen Qingqiu was not looking at him, his eyes fixed pointedly somewhere above Shen Yuan’s head. His fan was covering most of his face but the part he could see was carefully composed; not icy indifference, which he was accustomed to, but careful nothingness, which was new. 

“Deliver this to Master Yue.” 

Oh. 

OH.

Shen Yuan looked back down at the letter with wide eyes, resisting the urge to rip it open and read it for himself. He wondered if it was an apology or a declaration or a tirade or an explanation or just a simple letter, letting Yue Qingyuan know everything that he hadn’t told him in the years since they had stopped pretending that the other wasn’t the one person that they truly cared for.

“Yes, Shizun.” 

“I’m asking this of you despite your general incompetence because you’re already involved. If I hear word of this from anyone I’ll know who started the rumors and I will respond accordingly. Am I understood?”

“Y-yes, Shizun.”

“Good. You will run these letters during the time you typically practice the guqin until further notice. Yue Qingyuan has instructions in the letter you hold to have either a reply or a notice of a delayed reply ready on the proposed time of pick up according to this schedule. You are dismissed.”

══ ❀ ══

Yue Qingyuan stared at the letter in his hands with rapture. He hadn’t even opened it yet. 

Shen Yuan fought the urge to shift his weight as he waited to be dismissed. “Shizun will be expecting me back soon. I will arrive tomorrow to collect your response.”

“No, please, stay a moment, I…” Yue Qingyuan seemed unmoored, less of the incomparable and unmatched immortal sect leader that he was and more of the struggling boy that he had been for so long, “I will read this immediately, please wait for me.”

Shen Yuan was in no position to refuse a request from the sect leader. He bowed deeply and said he would wait outside. 

Minutes passed. Shen Yuan watched the clouds drift lazily across the sky. He wondered what the letter had said. 

After the three of them had been freed from the flower-included memory-hallucination, Shen Yuan and Yue Qingyuan had all but ran out of the cave as soon as Shen Qingqiu had pressed a hand to his forehead and said in a shaky voice, I need to be alone. Shen Yuan had returned straight back to Qing Jing Peak without a word and made himself scarce, convinced that when Shen Qingqiu returned it would be with fire and brimstone. He had not expected to see him quietly sulk back to the bamboo house and start a mushroom garden in the corner. Shen Qingqiu’s anger was usually cold and violent, not quiet and reflective. 

Shen Yuan knew much of the two peak lords; an uncomfortable amount, really, for such powerful, reserved people who were quickly beginning to feel worrisomely real. He knew of their childhoods and their struggles and how they had grown from boys to men. Both were plagued by trauma. Both were hard to predict. Both were characterized by the walls they built; one barbed and the other trellised, but both utterly insurmountable. At one point those walls had been torn down and rebuilt with the other inside. Shen Yuan wondered if it could happen again.

Yue Qingyuan arrived at the door holding a small letter, carefully folded over itself, the wax seal still drying. He looked a little embarrassed at having asked Shen Yuan to wait but he handed over the letter eagerly. 

“I’ll send a full reply when you return in three days, this is just for the time being,” he said stiffly, as if Shen Yuan was going to think poorly of him for not having a fully fully written multiple page letter locked and loaded just in case. 

“I’m sure Shizun will appreciate the prompt reply,” said Shen Yuan.

“Thank you,” said Yue Qingyuan. He sounded like he really meant it. 

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Step Zero: Redux: Get Yue Qingyuan and Shen Qingqiu on Speaking Terms

Step Zero: Redux has been completed! Congratulations! +250 EXP

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Shen Qingqiu all but ripped the letter out of Shen Yuan’s hands.

“No wonder you took so long,” he mumbled, already ripping the wax seal open. Shen Yuan watched as Shen Qingqiu’s eyes quickly traveled across the page. He read for a few seconds with visible anxiety before he realized that Shen Yuan was still there watching him. His cautious, weary expression was quickly back to his default settings bored scowl. “You’re still here? You have the social grace of a drunk elephant. You have been dismissed.” And then Shen Qingqiu slammed the door in Shen Yuan’s face. 

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Step One: Get on Shen Qingqiu’s good side

Step One is still in progress! Please continue to work hard!

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As per the schedule that Shen Qingqiu had outlined in his letter and explained to Shen Yuan with terse, synthetic flippancy, Shen Yuan would run letters twice a week, once from Qing Jing to Qiong Ding, once from Qiong Ding to Qing Jing. The other students assumed that he was running reports to Master Qinghua on Ah Ding, a task that would usually be handled by Ming Fan. There was some gossip about what that meant. 

(There was no gossip about Shen Yuan being taken off the study of the guqin. Shen Yuan was almost offended at how easily the other disciples accepted the development. Not even one person acted like this wasn’t completely natural and expected. Whatever. The lack of any form of surprise or concern did make it easy to keep the new arrangement secret, which was a top priority for Shen Qingqiu and therefore a top priority for Shen Yuan as well.)

The one person who was the most upset by these changes was unsurprisingly, Ming Fan.

“Are you seriously running reports to Ah Ding?” Ming Fan had asked after about a week.

Shen Yuan set his calligraphy brush down and admired a particularly well-made stroke before he said, “Yes,” all cool and casual.

Ming Fan said, “Huh.” Then he said, “Hm.”

Shen Yuan looked at him closer. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest, his mouth pressed into a sour line. “Is something the matter?” 

“Hm? Oh, no, of course not. I’m just wondering why Shizun wants his reports mishandled.”

Shen Yuan blinked. He ran through the words a few times in his mind but no matter how he viewed them they were cutting and nasty despite Ming Fan’s mild tone. Shen Yuan felt a pang of… something. Regret? Fear? Because he recognized this. He recognized the casual debasement of his character.  Recognized it, because the last time he had seen it it had been towards Luo Binghe.“It doesn’t take much,” replied Shen Yuan, a little shocked but trying to stay casual. “I might not have Shixiong’s skill with a sword but that doesn’t mean I am not capable of carrying a letter across the rainbow bridge.”

Ming Fan grunted doubtfully. 

Shen Yuan, lacking anything else to say, tried at a friendly grin but it felt forced so he quickly let it drop. 

Ming Fan seemed amused by this and smiled, roguish and sudden. He clapped Shen Yuan on the shoulder a little too hard. “We’ll see how long this lasts, huh, Shidi?” He said brightly.

══ ❀ ══

To be honest, Shen Yuan wasn’t entirely comfortable with the new arrangement. For one, the other disciples treated him…odd. It used to be that the other disciples would call him over when he walked by and confide in him. They would joke around and help each other with what they were working on or complain about the day’s humidity/lesson/food. Now they whispered when he walked past. There seemed to be the general understanding that he was an extension of their cold and unyielding Shizun, that things said in front of Shen Yuan would quickly get back to the bamboo house. They stopped being comfortable around him. It was lonely and disheartening but mostly it was frustratingly uncalled for—Shen Yuan was many things but he wasn’t a nark.

He didn’t even like the trips to Qiong Ding. They were long and strenuous and the wind was usually awful on the bridges. Without the cover of trees, the sun was hot and uncomfortable. He didn’t like the walk from the Rainbow Bridge to Yue Qingyuan’s house either. He had to pass through tall grass which meant bugs and Shen Yuan did not care for that shit at all.

There were only three things that were of any consulation to him: one, Yue Qingyuan usually let him stay and drink his very expensive tea while he waited for him to read Shen Qingqiu’s letter and write his ad hoc reply, which he almost always insisted on doing. Two, Shen Yuan thought, perhaps, that he and Shen Qingqiu were developing a sort of rapport, by which he meant that, sometimes, when Shen Qingqiu rudely dismissed him, he thought his tone was more neutral than disapproving.

The third thing was the most important. Shen Qingqiu’s countenance seemed to be slowly improving the more letters he exchanged with Yue Qingyuan. The point of this whole ordeal was to arrange for Shen Qingqiu to be in a milder frame of mind when Luo Binghe arrived, and so far things seemed to be going, miraculously, to plan. Shen Yuan would walk between Qing Jing and Qiong Ding ten thousand times if it meant that Luo Binghe would be received someday with kindness instead of cruelty. 

They had still never talked about the pollen in the cave. Shen Qingqiu seemed content to pretend that it never happened. Shen Yuan had tried to give his planned explanation a few times (he had been told that the pollen was used for learning something someone else knew and had wanted to know about the cave, he hadn’t known it would do all that hahaha) but Shen Qingqiu seemed determined to not speak to him at all unless it was necessary.

Which was why he had been shocked when one day, when handing Shen Qingqiu his letter from Yue Qingyuan, Shen Qingqiu had paused before closing the door and had said, “You will collect your things from the dormitory and move into the side room.”

Shen Yuan froze. “Shizun?”

Shen Qingqiu nodded, like that was all there was to say about the matter. “Yue Qingyuan does not seem intent to stop this arrangement any time soon and it will be easier to manage logistics with you at the house. You will move your things tonight.”

So Shen Yuan moved into the bamboo house.

It occurred to him, while he was packing up his small box of possessions that didn’t really mean anything to him, that Shen Qingqiu might be trying to intentionally isolate Shen Yuan from the other disciples. He had to have seen how they had been treating him. A move like this would only make them treat him with greater distance and animosity.

Laying on the uncomfortable mat that night in the bamboo house, Shen Yuan realized that, for the first time since he woke up on Qing Jing Peak, he felt rather lonely. 

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So things got worse. The other disciples retreated from him further. He ate by himself. He struggled to find someone who would play him at Go and when he did they would always graciously stage their own defeat, scared that a win would be seen as a slight.

Shen Qingqiu didn’t even seem happy with the arrangement. He slinked around his own house like a nervous cat, eyeing Shen Yuan distrustfully if he wasn’t outright ignoring him. Despite his orders to be there, Shen Yuan felt uncomfortably like an intruder. 

It would have been easier if Shen Qingqiu had just appointed him as the head disciple, but he hadn’t—that position still belonged to Ming Fan, and rightfully so. Shen Yuan studied hard and had quite a knack for Go and calligraphy, but his swordsmanship was nothing to brag about, his cultivation was disappointingly weak, and his demonstrable failure at the guqin was quietly mocked by the other disciples when they thought he couldn’t hear. And he liked the lessons but handled all his chores and tasks with begrudging reluctance and minimal effort. He was treated with all of the fear that came from having an apparent close relationship to a peak lord but with none of the respect. The disciples were at best confused, jealous, and angry about his sudden favor.

The worst was Ming Fan. They saw each other a lot now, as Shen Yuan kept to the bamboo house more and more to escape the petty comments of his peers. Almost daily, Ming Fan would drop off food or reports or supplies and look at Shen Yuan quietly reading in the corner and sneer.

And then, one day, the letter Ming Fan dropped off was a notice of the upcoming recruitment showcase. In just over two weeks, hopeful young trainees would gather near the base of the mountain and try to impress one of the lords enough to be invited onto their peak.

Shen Yuan listened to Ming Fan and Shen Qingqiu discuss logistics in dry voices while his heart raced in his chest. 

It had been almost a year since he had woken on Qing Jing Peak and every day for the past year he had thought of this moment. 

Luo Binghe was about to arrive.

Chapter Text

His hair was a mess. 

That was the first thing Shen Yuan noticed about him. 

He had clearly tried to get it to cooperate but his efforts had only rendered a frizzy poof of a ponytail tied back with an angry knot of string. 

It made sense. Curly hair was a bitch to control even with modern-day serums and diffusers. Where he was in the narrative, Binghe didn’t have access to oil or any of the right kinds of brushes. He didn’t even have access to soap. The boy had traveled for two weeks to get here, mostly by foot, sleeping under trees and bathing in rivers. 

Despite the wild hair, his bright eyes, charming features, and strong presence were utterly unmistakable. This was Luo Binghe. Shen Yuan was ecstatic.

Shen Yuan stood a few steps away from Shen Qingqiu on the ledge overlooking the hopeful new recruits. All the peak lords were scattered about, some hidden, some proudly visible to the awed crowd down below. A few peak lords had chosen to attend by themselves. Others opted into bringing a select one or two disciples. Most of the head disciples were stationed further down the mountain to watch for suspicious activity, as the recruitment showcase was one of the times the peak was most susceptible to attacks. Shen Qingqiu usually sent Ming Fan to help patrol and attended the showcase himself. This cycle, he had brought Shen Yuan. Shen Yuan didn’t understand why he hadn’t been left at home.

“The young woman in yellow near the back left shows promise,” said Yue Qingyuan cheerfully. Shen Qingqiu paused the slow movement of his fan to shoot him a half-hearted glare. “She does,” Yue Qingyuan insisted with a small smile. “Watch her closely.”

“Her written scores were subpar.” Shen Qingqiu’s voice was clipped and sharp which meant he was uncomfortable. Shen Yuan wondered when he had started knowing such things. 

“But not in the categories that matter most.”

“Matter most to whom? To Yue Qingyuan? Does Qiong Ding Peak assign disciples to a master now or are peaks still free to make these choices for themselves?”

Shen Yuan listened to their conversation with vague interest. It had the cadence of an argument practiced so many times that it was more of a routine than a conversation. He knew from PIDW that Shen Qingqiu was generally uncomfortable around men. He had wondered before why Shen Qingqiu insisted on recruiting mostly boys to his peak if that were true. He had wondered about this a lot recently, now that he was being forced to sleep in Shen Qingqiu’s house. It seemed that Yue Qingyuan had wondered the same thing.

Shen Qingqiu and Yue Qingyuan were still discussing the girl in yellow. 

“She is well educated and determined. Her personality and aptitude were reported to be exceptionally good.”

“Perhaps Master Qi will find her acceptable.”

“And how does Master Shen find her?”

“This master is not looking for more disciples. I have enough to worry about with the current crop.” 

Neither lord looked at Shen Yuan, but it felt pointed.

“Perhaps if Master Shen recruited more people like the promising young woman in yellow,” Said Yue Qingyuan slowly, “He wouldn’t have to worry so much about his disciples in the future.”

“Enough,” Shen Qingqiu snapped. Shen Qingqiu glanced at Shen Yuan, quick and furtive. Shen Yuan pretended like he didn’t notice.

Shen Yuan was once again struck with the desire to tell Shen Qingqiu that it was okay, that he already knew about Shen Qingqiu’s discomfort. Instead, he watched the potential recruits and pretended that he had suddenly gone conveniently deaf. 

The conversation stymied as they watched the recruits move through their forms. Shen Yuan tried to look at anyone other than Luo Binghe, but it was hard. Even from such a distance, the protagonist seemed to shine with power and grace. He was clearly shaky on the finer points of form and technique, but for someone so young his potential was clear.

Shen Yuan waited patiently for either of the lords to point him out. Although this scene had been from Luo Binghe’s perspective in the novel he knew that he would be selected for Qing Jing Peak at any moment. The only recruit in his year. It was a high honor. He watched Luo Binghe and wondered what they would compliment about him first. There were so many things to choose from.

“She has physical strengths but minimal literary education,” said Shen Qingqiu. “She would be better suited for Qi Qingqi’s peak.”

“She listed Qing Jing as her preference.”

“As if a young villager such as herself knows anything about the intricacies of the different peaks. Speak to Qi Qingqi about the young woman. I’m sure she has optioned for her already.”

Why were they still talking about that girl? She wasn’t anyone. Luo Binghe was right there. Talk about him. Shen Yuan shook his head slowly, trying to figure it out. Maybe it was one of those things that was so obvious it didn’t warrant discussion?

Liu Qingge arrived to where the three of them were gathered. It wasn’t Shen Yuan’s first time seeing Liu Qingge but he was once again shocked by his appearance. He looked nothing like what Shen Yuan’s headcanon had been. Shen Yuan was almost mad about it. Liu Qingge, the war lord, was supposed to be rugged and imposing. Instead, he was a lithe, graceful beauty. It wasn’t right. Shen Yuan had been promised muscles.

“Master Yue,” said Liu Qingge in greeting. He didn’t glance at Shen Qingqiu. 

Shen Qingqiu fanned himself slowly, looking Liu Qingge over once with visible disdain. Liu Qingge’s jaw clenched. He made no other indication that he knew Shen Qingqiu was there.

“Master Liu, always nice to see you,” said Yue Qingyuan warmly, gesturing for him to come closer. Liu Qingge joined them on the edge of the overlook, placing Yue Qingyuan between himself and Shen Qingqiu. He surveyed the field of recruits below before turning to Yue Qingyuan.

“I have made a selection,” said Liu Qingge, skipping all pleasantries and jumping directly to business. He handed Yue Qingyuan a small scroll. “My choices are provided in order. I wish to retain around seven this cycle, but as always I will request that An Ding makes the final call on numbers.”

Yue Qingyuan hummed and unrolled the scroll about halfway. His eyebrows rose. “This is your highest ranked option? This… Luo Binghe?”

Shen Yuan’s full attention snapped to their conversation.

Shen Qingqiu scoffed. “Luo Binghe?” He practically smeared the name. “His scores are abysmal, his forms are worse, he has no foundation in cultivation, and what little exists of his formal education is a joke. A fine choice for Bai Zhan Peak indeed.”

Shen Yuan couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He looked back at the small, determined figure far below with the poof of hair, but there was no mistake—this was his Binghe.

“He shows potential as a competent swordsman,” said Liu Qingge doggedly. “He is focused and determined, and his qi, though underdeveloped, is strong.”

“Master Liu, are you sure?” asked Yue Qingyuan with a glance at Shen Qingqiu. Shen Yuan realized, stunned, that Yue Qingyuan agreed with Shen Qingqiu’s assessment. What the fuck was happening.

Liu Qingge nodded. “I am sure. I am eager to train him.” 

And that was Liu Qingge’s mistake.

“Well, if Master Qingge is so eager,” said Shen Qingqiu from behind his fan, suddenly sounding bored and blasé, “then perhaps the disciple does have potential. This master might have written him off too quickly. He did score exceptionally well in strategy.”

Liu Qingge, not realizing what was happening, looked at Shen Qingqiu with surprise. He nodded, a little hesitantly. “He did.”

“Hm. Master Yue, I will option for this Luo Binghe as well. He is my first and only choice.”

Silence. Shen Qingqiu slowly waved his fan, watching the trainees down below with detached condescension. 

Peaks who only requested one trainee from the recruitment were almost always granted their choice. Furthermore, higher ranking peaks had priority. As the second highest-ranking peak, Shen Qingqiu was essentially guaranteed his top choice no matter what. Bai Zhan was close enough in rank that if Liu Qingge had ranked someone first and Shen Qingqiu had ranked them fourth there might have been a debate to be had. But this would be uncontested.

Shen Yuan wouldn’t be able to speak if he had tried. He felt the world had slipped off its axis. Luo Binghe’s placement on Qing Jing Peak was due to nothing more than a petty argument? Surely this wasn’t how this had gone. This couldn’t be right.

Yue Qingyuan was the first to speak. “Shen Qingqiu, I admit I’m surprised with this selection. Bai Zhan has the larger capacity for disciples. I know your men’s dormitory is already full.” (It wasn’t. There was one empty bed, but Shen Yuan still held out hope of returning to it.) “For a disciple who is, ah, a gamble of success, perhaps a larger peak is better suited to mitigate such risks?”

A gamble of success?? 

Shen Qingqiu said mildly, “Master Liu seems to like his odds. There must be something you and I are not seeing, Master Yue, for him to believe that this young nothing of a boy holds more promise than even the young woman in yellow who you are so taken by.”

“My interest lies solely in what sort of person they are today and if they can fight. It is not a gamble.”

Shen Qingqiu didn’t roll his eyes but his eyelids twitched in a way that implied he badly wanted to. “Yes, a gamble is something you cannot control, whereas everyone knows how much control you have over your orderly disciples. How civilized and well-mannered they are.”

“Perfect manners do not keep you alive. I do not invite disciples to live on my peak for a decade for the chance that one day they might further my name in societies I have no wish to be a part of,” said Liu Qingge with audible frustration, “I have no need for glory.”

Yue Qingyuan, clearly eager to stop the conversation from devolving further, cut in with, “Perhaps we should meet this boy and gather more information.” 

Shen Qingqiu snapped his fan closed and turned to face Yue Qingyuan properly for the first time since arriving at the showcase. “Respectfully Master Yue, do we need more information? Master Liu believes this boy will be a shining member of the sect. Do you not respect his judgment?”

Yue Qingyuan froze, realizing he had no option that wasn’t an insult to Liu Qingge. Liu Qingge, realizing this as well, let out an exasperated sound of disgust, crossing his arms and looking at Shen Qingqiu with undisguised contempt.

The conversation wasn’t even about Luo Binghe. No one was discussing his obvious merit. No one seemed even the slightest bit concerned about which sect would suit Luo Binghe or serve the most benefit to him. It was unconscionable. It was an outrage. It was an insult.

It was also incredibly convenient.

An idea had started to coagulate in Shen Yuan’s mind listening to the Peak Lords’ argument. Liu Qingge wanted Luo Binghe on his peak. Liu Qingge had no reason to resent Luo Binghe. He had no reason to abuse him. Shen Yuan didn’t know much about the social dynamics of Bai Zhan, but from what he could tell Luo Binghe would have many martial brothers and sisters who would grow to respect and care for him over time. Shen Yuan hadn’t even considered a reality where Luo Binghe wasn’t a disciple of Qing Jing Peak, but didn’t this solve everything?

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Step Two: Leverage Relationships with Yue Qingyuan and Shen Qingqiu to Arrange for Luo Binghe to Become a Disciple of Bai Zhan Peak!

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Shen Yuan took a step closer to the group and politely cleared his throat. “Please excuse my intrusion, Shizun, Shibo.”

Liu Qingge looked at Shen Yuan like he was just realizing he was there. Shen Qingqiu looked back at him like he was surprised that Shen Yuan knew how to talk.

Yue Qingyuan looked relieved to have a distraction. He said kindly, “Of course, Shen Yuan Shizhi, what is the matter?”

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Edit! Step Two: Leverage Relationships with Yue Qingyuan and Shen Qingqiu to Arrange for Luo Binghe to Become a Disciple of Bai Zhan Peak!

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Shen Yuan bowed his head. “Nothing is the matter, Master Yue. On the contrary, this disciple wonders if there might be a possible solution by way of compromise between Bai Zhan and Qing Jing Peak.”

Liu Qingge said, “Unlikely.”

“Let’s hear him out, Liu-Shidi,” said Yue Qinguan with a wholehearted trust that Shen Yuan was confident that he hadn’t earned.

Shen Yuan bowed his head again before continuing. “Qing Jing Peak would naturally welcome Luo Binghe, who shows much promise and will undoubtedly be an outstanding cultivator. However, as Master Yue has wisely brought attention to, Qing Jing Peak is very near its capacity for disciples. Master Liu has little care for his personal reputation but does see the value in having a powerful disciple on his peak to raise the collective strength of his peak through regular sparring and mentorship. These goals are not the same. Can’t both peaks benefit?”

Shen Qingqiu, head strategist of Cang Qiong Sect, was the first to follow Shen Yuan’s train of thought. He let out a satisfied hum. “What my disciple has said about Qing Jing Peak is true. If Master Liu truly has no interest in glory and simply derives pleasure from having another warm body to fight then surely Master Liu wouldn’t mind housing a ward of Qing Jing Peak.”

“A ward? Cang Qiong Mountain is not a halfway house for wayward children, we do not take wards.” Liu Qingge looked to Yue Qingyuan, as if expecting him to put an end to this nonsense, but Yue Qingyuan was watching Shen Qingqiu thoughtfully. 

“There are no rules that would prohibit it,” Yue Qingyuan admitted, “However, it might set a complicated precedent. Would it not cause confusion if the disciple’s master wasn’t also his teacher?”

“Shizun would be able to provide instruction regularly through letters and other written material,” Shen Yuan cut in quickly, prompting another sharp look from Shen Qingqiu.

“Will I?” He asked mildly. 

Yue Qingyuan seemed thoughtful. “That would suffice. Certain lessons can only be taught under more careful supervision but for the first few years this arrangement will do.” 

“Qing Jing Peak guides the boy through the arts and basic cultivation while Bai Zhan focuses on martial arts,” Liu Qingge summarized, then shook his head sharply. “That will not be acceptable. It would be too dangerous to train martial arts while another master provides directions for cultivation.”

Shen Qingqiu raised one elegant eyebrow the smallest amount. How such a small movement conveyed such pure and unaltered dislike should be studied by science. “Oh? I thought this boy was supposed to be your great prodigy. If the conditions must be so precise for him to succeed, he might not be worth all this inconvenience.”

“If Shixiong is no longer interested then the boy will report to Bai Zhan.”

“Forgive me, Shidi, I do mean the compromise. You should be thankful that Qing Jing is letting him stay with you at all. We could find room for him if we had to. Instead we are allowing your peak to benefit from his remarkable affinities. This or nothing. These are your options.”

Liu Qingge snarled, “The boy could have a qi deviation learning cultivation from two separate sources.”

“Then I suggest you refrain from teaching him cultivation.”

Liu Qingge looked for a moment like he was genuinely considering testing his luck at shoving Shen Qingqiu off the side of the cliff. Shen Qingqiu looked a bit like he wanted to see him try. After a long moment, Liu Qingge ground out, “Qing Jing Peak will pay the expenses associated with the boy.”

“Should Qing Jing cover the cost of his board when Bai Zhan will benefit from his labor?” asked Shen Qingqiu, his voice thick with scorn and disapproval.

Liu Qingge didn’t even hesitate. “Yes.”

“Fine. Qing Jing Peak will provide formal instruction and cover all expenses. The boy will live and study on Bai Zhan. He will engage in drills with the Bai Zhan disciples and will perform the daily duties of Bai Zhan disciples of appropriate rank. However, his formal allegiance will be with Qing Jing and any accomplishment or credit for the boy’s future success will be attributed to Qing Jing Peak. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” Liu Qingge practically spat the word.

Yue Qingyuan was clearly satisfied with this. He spread his arms like there you have it then and smiled. Then he added encouragingly, “Qing Jing Peak certainly has a bit too many young men right now, doesn’t it, Shidi?”

Shen Qingqiu scowled openly and flicked his fan open with a snap. He made no further comment. Yue Qingyuan, taking that as approval, looked hopefully at Liu Qingge who was glaring fiercely at his shoes. 

Shen Qingqiu and Liu Qingge did not look like two men who had just reached a compromise of any sort. They looked rather like two people who disliked each other very, very much realizing they had just agreed to something that was genuinely mutually beneficial but would require continued collaboration over an unspecified number of years (which isn’t a very common situation to be in, but just imagine what that would look like, and that’s what they looked like).

Shen Qingqiu turned and left with a swish of his robes. Shen Yuan turned to follow, but not before stealing one more look down at the field of hopeful young recruits. He found Luo Binghe immediately once again and startled to see that Luo Binghe was looking directly at him.

Well, not at him , surely, but at the cluster of powerful and graceful peak lords who he stood near. From this distance it was hard to tell. Shen Yuan didn’t think Luo Binghe would be watching him because this was the part in the story where Luo Binghe catches his first glimpse of Shen Qingqiu and is wholly impressed by his evident power and grace.

But in PIDW, there had only been three figures standing on the ledge, not four. In PIDW, there had been no strange but fantastic compromise between Liu Qingge and Shen Qingqiu. In PIDW, Luo Binghe had been placed fully on Qing Jing Peak simply out of spite in a petty effort to keep Liu Qingge from getting something that he wanted. 

Shen Yuan was caught suddenly by the realization that he had changed the story in an unmistakable and irrefutable way. Up to this point, Shen Yuan had been making preparations in the wings, but now he was stumbling onto the stage with no script in a broken play. Shen Yuan hoped desperately that he had somehow helped and not made everything somehow worse.

Luo Binghe still hadn’t looked away. Shen Yuan resisted the urge to do something stupid, like wave, or smile, or give Luo Binghe a big thumbs up, or run down the mountain and wrap him up in a hug, telling him that he was proud of him and swearing that he would be okay. Instead, Shen Yuan turned and silently followed Shen Qingqiu out of sight.

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“You must think I’m a fool,” said Shen Qingqiu quite calmly the moment they arrived back at the bamboo house.

Shen Yuan froze. “Shizun?”

Shen Qingqiu turned to face Shen Yuan. Shen Yuan realized that it was the first time Shen Qingqiu had properly looked at him since the Ling Xi caves. His voice was level and relaxed but his eyes were focused and sharp as knives. “You think I don’t notice when someone is plotting on my own peak, Shen Yuan ?”

Shen Yuan blinked then said slowly, “Plotting? Who’s plotting?”

There was a sudden sound half-way between a snap and bang just over Shen Yuan’s shoulder.

 He whipped around to see a small, smoking scratch in the wall. He stared, trying to figure out what had just happened. 

As he stared, Shen Yuan became distantly aware that he felt heat on the side of his neck. A moment later the pain set in, mild but sharp. His hand moved quickly to the side of his neck on instinct but drew away quickly when he felt the hot, wet slide of blood. 

His breath caught, his pulse stuttering before kicking into overdrive. He pressed his palm hard against the wound, sending his qi to the area to feel the extent of the damage. He relaxed slightly to realize that it wasn’t deep—thank god —but adrenaline was still singing in his blood. This tiny cut was the closest thing he had ever received to a lethal wound.

Xiu Ya hummed dangerously in its scabbard. Shen Yuan hadn’t even seen it move. 

“Do not play dumb with me,” said Shen Qingqiu, still quite calmly.

Shen Yuan stood there, numb. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to say. He could barely think against the slightly primal fear that had scattered his thoughts. He had never been attacked like this before in his life. 

He wasn’t a cultivator. He was just living inside the skin of one. He hadn’t been training his entire life to learn how to control his emotions and his mind. He was just a normal kid that had been sucked into this world very recently, in the grand scheme of things. This body had memory and knowledge that he was still working to fully understand, but underneath all that he was still eleven years old, scared, and very much alone. 

“You must have realized that I’ve been watching you very closely since that little stunt you pulled in the caves,” Shen Qingqiu continued, stepping slowly across the room towards one of his more decorative bookshelves. As he spoke, he nudged a small glass sculpture with the end of his fan, moving it a fraction of a centimeter back to perfect alignment with the others to its left and right. “Did you know that I have not slept once since you moved into that side room? Not once. The other disciples are watching you too. They let me know when they’ve seen anything suspicious.”

“Have they?” Shen Yuan forced himself to ask when it became clear that Shen Qingqiu was waiting for him to speak. 

“Of course they have.”

This was no surprise. Shen Yuan wasn’t the same boy who had lived here just a few short months ago. He was an entirely different person. He didn’t even know who that boy had been outside of what little he had been able to extrapolate from what people seemed to expect from him. But how could he explain that? To try could only land him on Qian Cao peak with Mu Qingfang treating him for insanity and/or being kicked out of the sect entirely. 

Shen Qingqiu continued with the same, precise, cool voice. “You are up to something. I will find out what it is.”

Shen Yuan forced himself to calm down. He reminded himself that Shen Qingqiu hated Binghe with the fury of a dying sun and still let the boy live on his peak for over a decade. Shen Qingqiu wasn’t in the business of killing his disciples. Or at least, he wasn’t in the business of doing it outright.

Shen Yuan said, “I hadn’t realized that the actions of such a young and untalented disciple were of such interest to someone as esteemed as yourself. Regardless, I should have known that Shizun would immediately notice any unusual behavior.”

“Flattery,” Shen Qingqiu observed with haughty scorn. “A poor strategy. Flattery is only effective if the audience is interested in the opinion of the speaker. I already know you are vermin—I only have yet to determine which kind.”

Vermin? That was quite rude. Shen Yuan had never been called a vermin before. While he didn’t much care for Shen Qingqiu’s tone, he thought to himself that there were quite a few animals that were technically classified as vermin that were actually quite cool. Like coyotes. Or possums. He decided that he would be one of those, if he was going to be a vermin. 

With that thought in mind, Shen Yuan decided, screw it, and said, “It hadn’t been my intention to worry Shizun in this way. I will gladly explain my supposedly malicious scheme and will abandon it if Shizun wishes.” 

Shen Qingqiu looked almost surprised to hear this. He didn’t show it externally, his cold and composed mask never faltering, but he stared at Shen Yuan wordless for a short moment, as if thrown off his script. “Good,” he said eventually. “Tell me now.”

“Yes.” Shen Yuan somewhat uncomfortably glanced about the room, looking for something to hold to his wound. “Can I get a bandage first, or…?”

Shen Qingqiu scoffed like he couldn't believe that Shen Yuan was still bleeding after being cut in one of the areas of the human body with the most blood flow less than a minute ago. How shameful it was to bleed.

Shen Yuan, understanding that he wasn’t getting so much as a used rag from the peak lord, pressed his palm harder against his neck, hoping he could at least stop most of the blood from getting on the collar of his uniform. “Then I’ll be brief. I would like to help Shizun be happy, when I can.”

Shen Qingqiu said, “Happy?” how normal people might say the name of a disgusting and highly contagious STD. 

“Yes.”

“And it will make me happy to write this useless little mongrel individual instruction for the next however many years?”

Shen Yuan was taken aback. He thought Shen Qingqiu had inferred his intentions. “I had assumed I would be the one writing the instructions. I’m also to be the one delivering the letters, presumably, since I’m already delivering letters between peaks.” When Shen Qingqiu didn’t immediately provide a retort Shen Yuan added, “I would never presume to volunteer Shizun for work I wasn’t prepared to do myself.”

“This doesn’t explain the cave.”

“Does Master Yue not make you happy?”

The silence that settled over the bamboo house was absolute.

Shen Qingqiu pointed at the door. He took a deep breath, then said, “Get out. I do not care where you go but do not come back until morning.”

Shen Yuan didn’t ask questions. He bowed and marched himself right out the bamboo house, past the little stream, down the trail through the bamboo, straight past the boy’s dormitory and to the girl’s. He figured he had a good shot at getting Ning Yingying to help him with first-aid. She never cared about gossip or politics. 

They didn’t talk about what caused the cut, but Shen Yuan could tell from the way she avoided the question that she already knew. She applied ointment and dressed the area, chatting happily but a little nervously all the while. Shen Yuan listened to her and tried not to think about anything at all. 

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The next day, Shen Yuan delivered the first letter to Bai Zhan. 

It was a little awkward to pick up the two letters from Shen Qingqiu, with the way they had left things the night before. Shen Qingqiu did confirm, quite emotionlessly, that it was only natural that Shen Yuan would be the one to deliver the letters to Luo Binghe. He was the one who had suggested the arrangement in the first place and he was already running letters to Qiong Ding. Besides, it wouldn’t do to assign a menial task like this to one of the older or more successful disciples.

The walk across the rainbow bridge and down the side of Bai Zhan peak to where the training fields were was nearly an out of body experience. He couldn’t tell if he was excited or nervous but whatever he was feeling, it was putting him on-edge about it. He was about to meet his favorite book character face-to-face. Luo Binghe. The demonic emperor who had slayed thousands, conquering kings and countries without breaking a sweat. This was the man who had felled the acid-thorned viper bear with his bare hands. This was the man who had ended the terror of the Guardian of the Western Swamps. He had conquered the endless abyss, mastered the art of dream magic, and wielded the deadly Xin Mo. He was unstoppable. He was a legend. He was—

“Hello, Shixiong! Thanking Shixiong very much for delivering this one’s instructions from Master Shen Qingqiu!”

…shorter than Shen Yuan.

Shen Yuan stared down at the smiling, rosy-cheeked boy before him. His poofy hair had once again been wrangled into an angry ponytail with a rough length of string. He was wearing the blue and gray robes of a Bai Zhan peak disciple. 

“Good morning,” Shen Yuan said, his deeply-engrained manners overcoming his surprise before he did. He passed over the letter, which Luo Binghe accepted with more gushing gratitude. It was sealed with wax but Shen Yuan knew what it said. Shen Qingqiu had told him, almost gloating, as he handed Shen Yuan the letter. “It’s no trouble. Congratulations on your recruitment.”

“Thank you, Shixiong.” The boy was glowing with the excitement of his recent news. Shen Yuan knew that Luo Binghe had traveled for weeks to give himself a chance at the trials. He knew that Binghe was only here because his late adopted mother had asked Binghe to try, knowing that it was his best opportunity for a good life. He knew that yesterday Binghe had barely been able to sleep, buzzing with the joy of his success and the potential that his once gray and dismal future now held. 

He knew that by tonight some of the thrill will have faded and that Binghe would find himself overcome with grief that he wasn’t able to share the joy of his accomplishment with his mother, his sorrowful tears chasing after the tears of joy from only the night before.

Luo Binghe always felt his emotions like that. Everything was always too much. He thought it had something to do with the fact that for the first few years of his life he couldn’t remember feeling anything at all except for hunger, fear, or the cold. The night his mother found him was the first time Binghe remembered crying. He had splayed shaking hands before her hearth as she wrapped a heavy quilt around his shoulders and said that he never had to leave if he didn’t want to, and it was like something inside him had shattered.  

It felt like he had spent the entire next year crying. He cried when he was happy or excited and he cried when he was scared or lonely. Now, at ten years old, he had almost gotten the tears under control, but his emotions were still always so much bigger than he was.

“This one’s name is Luo Binghe, by the way,” said Binghe happily, then added, a bit sheepishly, “Shixiong probably already knew that.”

Shen Yuan said, “This one did.”

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Shen Yuan didn’t stick around to wait for him to read the letter. He excused himself shortly after handing it off and took off with a rather hasty farewell, the unreality of the moment making his head spin. 

This is what the letter said:

Shen Qingqiu had thought it was hilarious to order him to study hard but to give him nothing to study. “The brat won’t be able to find a single book on that entire mountain. Absolute heathens. And he won’t be able to ask questions without risking making trouble,” he had said, the closest thing to happy Shen Yuan had ever seen him.

Shen Yuan had thought it was ridiculous to write a letter when your signature was almost half the word count. He was secretly a little ashamed to have delivered it. He imagined little Luo Binghe carefully opening the letter with eager reverence, expecting instructions or at least a proper introduction and instead being met with a curt and cryptic warning.

Still, Shen Yuan reminded himself, it was better than hot tea being poured on his head, which was the fate that befell Luo Binghe on his first day on Qing Jing Peak in PIDW. For some reason, the idea didn’t feel like much of a comfort. 

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The next letter was delivered a few days later along with a few small training manuals. Shen Yuan had written this letter out as Shen Qingqiu dictated. He used his neatest penmanship, trying to replicate Shen Qingqiu’s precise and beautiful strokes. 

The letter had been fairly dry, mostly just explaining the manuals, the order in which Binghe was to read them, what he should pay the most attention to, etc. It was, however, peppered with backhanded comments about Binghe’s lack of education and flippant insults towards Liu Qingge, Bai Zhan Peak, and the general world outside of Shen Qingqiu’s immediate sphere of influence. 

Shen Yuan dutifully transcribed the peak lord’s biting words as he tried not to outwardly wince. He imagined that it would be hard for him to write this out to anyone, but the fact that he knew precisely how much it meant to Luo Binghe at this point in his journey to make his teachers proud of him made it so much worse. 

Shen Qingqiu hadn’t spoken at all to Shen Yuan directly since their last conversation. Shen Yuan wondered if Shen Qingqiu had thought more about letting Shen Yuan write the letters himself. He hoped he would eventually allow it. Shen Yuan would have been nicer. 

He once again met Luo Binghe just outside the Bai Zhan dormitory. Unlike the serene, small dormitories on Qing Jing separated by gender and neatly arranged, the dormitories on Bai Zhan adopted a more everyone-for-themself style of organization. All the disciples slept in the same large, multi-floor complex. Shen Yuan could hear loud voices coming from inside and could see through a window what looked like a complicated net of hammocks and blankets being hoisted in the air. He was intensely curious but Luo Binghe of course quickly claimed his full attention. 

“This one figured out how he recognized you,” Luo Binghe had said immediately after greeting him. “Shixiong was the disciple on the cliff with the peak lords at the trials.” 

Ah, that made Shen Yuan sound far more important than he was. But the truth—that Shen Qingqiu assigned him chores that other disciples would find incredibly inconvenient—might be moderately insulting in the context of him being there. He tried to avoid the topic entirely by saying, “That was an exciting day, wasn’t it?”

Luo Binghe smiled politely. Shen Yuan got the distinct feeling that Luo Binghe was humoring him. “It was. One of the most exciting things was seeing the peak lords, even from such distance. This disciple is very lucky to be able to learn more about them, particularly Master Liu and Master Shen. But it seems my shixiong knows Master Shen quite well already.”

Better than you could imagine. Shen Yuan gave a non-committal reply, trying not to accidentally hint that he had in fact spent hundreds of hours pouring over a detailed chronicle of Shen Jiu’s entire life again and again. 

Perhaps he wasn’t very successful because Luo Binghe saw the expression on his face and asked, “What’s he like?”

Shen Yuan couldn’t so easily dodge a direct question. He wavered on how to respond, eventually settling on, “Shizun is powerful and very knowledgeable. We should be honored that he is our teacher. But as for his personality, he can be curt.” 

“Ah.” Luo Binghe relaxed slightly. “That would explain letters, then.” 

Yes, it certainly would. Shen Yuan suddenly realized the merit in explaining Shen Qingqiu’s personality now so that Luo Binghe would be prepared. He didn’t want to speak poorly of their shared teacher, especially when Luo Binghe had yet to meet him in person, but he wanted Luo Binghe to know that it wasn’t Binghe, that Shen Qingqiu was just like that. He added slowly, “Shizun is quite direct, especially when it comes to outlining criticism. He doesn’t believe in… positive reinforcement. It will perhaps be better for Luo Binghe to be able to benefit from his insight while keeping some personal distance.” 

Luo Binghe tilted his head slightly to the side. “There are many styles of communication. I’m sure Master Shen means well.”

Ah, the warm and shining optimism of the starry-eyed protagonist before his great blackening. Shen Yuan doubled down, determined to make his point. “He doesn’t mean well. In fact, he’s quite mean.”

“Oh.”

“It’s nothing personal. He’s like that to everyone.”

“…Oh.” Luo Binghe considered that. His eyes flickered to the bandage on Shen Yuan’s neck. Shen Yuan raised his hand to cover the bandage on instinct. Luo Binghe’s brow furrowed slightly. 

Shen Yuan felt suddenly a little vulnerable. He didn’t know what Luo Binghe was thinking about that made him look so intense but he worried he was drawing many wrong conclusions. Shen Yuan scrambled to change the topic saying, “Many disciples on Qing Jing Peak are eager to meet the young boy who impressed not one but two peak lords.”

Luo Binghe’s expression returned to neutral but he retained a more serious quality that he hadn’t held before. “That’s nice to hear. Mostly the disciples on Bai Zhan are just confused about how this one should be addressing Master Liu.”

“They’ll be more confused about how to address Luo Binghe when he surpasses Master Liu in combat.” 

Luo Binghe let out a sharp laugh, flushing lightly in surprise. He quickly glanced over his shoulder, as if worried that someone had heard. “Shen Shixiong, this disciple is weak and untalented and does not expect that to be a concern.” 

Shen Yuan felt himself respond with a smile of his own, unbidden in the presence of Luo Binghe’s infectious joy. He passed over the letter and the small stack of manuals which Luo Binghe accepted graciously, the tops of his cheeks still pink with pleasure. 

So hopefully that letter, at least, wasn’t all bad. 

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A few weeks passed. Shen Yuan and Luo Binghe fell into an amiable but slightly reserved companionship. Shen Yuan still struggled with guilt every time he delivered a letter Shen Qingqiu had dictated. He also battled episodes of mild vertigo when he suddenly remembered that he was speaking to Luo Binghe which happened roughly every fifteen seconds. The culmination of these two things meant he oscillated between acting either loosely apathetic or intensely supportive. 

One time he had stayed an extra three hours to explain to Luo Binghe a particularly nuanced collection of essays that Shen Qingqiu had given him. Shen Yuan had suspected that they had been assigned for the express purpose of making Luo Binghe feel dumb and inadequate, which Shen Yuan could not stand for. But then he couldn’t stop feeling like he had overstepped because of course Luo Binghe wouldn’t have had any trouble understanding a stupid essay collection, so the next time he dropped off a letter he had scarcely mumbled a greeting before shoving the letter and accompanying materials in Luo Binghe’s arms before literally running away. (He later told himself, late that night when he was staring wide awake to the ceiling of the bamboo house, that it was really more of a brisk and refined jog. The proper gate of a busy young man with many important places to be.) 

Luo Binghe, for his part of things, had a perfectly polite and friendly countenance but underneath that Shen Yuan could tell he was quite guarded. This didn’t seem to be exclusive to Shen Yuan. From what he could tell, the disciples of Bai Zhan didn’t know what to make of him. They liked him—of course, was that even a question—but no one seemed to want to get to know him personally. In fact Shen Yuan suspected that, of all the people of the Cang Xiong Mountain Sect, he was the closest thing Luo Binghe had to a friend. 

One day, Shen Yuan was sitting at Shen Qingqiu’s table, blank parchment before him, brush hovering over the inkwell, waiting for Shen Qingqiu to begin dictating his underhanded comments on Binghe’s progress or passive-aggressive instructions. Shen Qingqiu was fretting about the room, getting things ready for his visit to ‘somewhere that was not any concern to a little rat like you. Why would a bird explain his route to the mud? What can it do, other than sit there and stink?’ 

(In the end, the joke was on the bird—this stinky mud already knew exactly where that bird was flying to. He was going down the mountain to sleep at the brothel in town. Not to gamble, not to drink, not to engage in any illicit or vulgar act, but simply to sleep. Shen Yuan was immensely glad of it. It would be Shen Qingqiu’s first time sleeping in months. Shen Yuan entertained hopes that it would improve his personality but even if it didn’t he knew the man deserved to rest.)

“This master will return in the morning. In the meantime, Ming Fan will be in charge and has full authority to do everything in his power to keep this peak in line. You might as well sleep here while I am gone but I will know if you attempt anything foolish.”

“Yes, Shizun.” 

“Deliver this letter to Qiong Ding first thing today. Master Yue failed once again to remember to take his book with him last time he was on Qing Jing so he will have to return to collect it. I don’t know why he hasn’t already done so. As for that boy—“

Shen Yuan dipped his brush in the ink and got ready to transcribe. 

“—tell him he has a week to complete an essay on the strategy book this master lent him last week. Four hundred lines over whatever aspect he chooses, this master doesn't care as long as it’s mindful. Remember that Shen Yuan will review his progress on all the basic forms in three days; remind him to be prepared. And don’t forget to collect the six essay collections and bring those back, this master is not comfortable with those being on Bai Zhan any longer than necessary.”

Shen Yuan glanced between Shen Qingqiu and the still blank parchment before him. Usually Shen Qingqiu started with ‘To the disciple on Bai Zhan’ or ‘To whom it will likely concern’ if he was assigning a particularly gruesome quantity of work and feeling funny. None of what he was saying sounded like a letter. “Should this one relay those instructions verbally?” 

“No, you dolt,” Shen Qingqiu scowled, “Write it in a letter, as always. Are you not holding a brush as we speak? Do you not deliver instructions in a letter multiple times a week? Shen Yuan is lucky that his physical functions show irrefutable evidence of a brain because otherwise it would be impossible to prove he has one.”

“This disciple should... formulate the letter himself, then?”

Shen Qingqiu turned to face Shen Yuan fully for the first time. He was looking at him with an expression somewhere between pissed off and amazed. “Do you suggest we procure one from the walls? Yes, of course you should formulate the letter yourself, you useless ingrate. As soon as you’re finished, leave for the bridge. And deliver this report to Ming Fan on your way out so he can run it to An Ding.”

Shen Qingqiu returned to his preparation. Shen Yuan stared at the blank parchment before him, a little nervous. He couldn’t sound like Shen Qingqiu. Could he? He was going to have to try, since Shen Qingqiu personally providing instruction was a key factor of the entire arrangement that allowed Binghe to stay on Bai Zhan, safe and sound. But it was still Shen Qingqiu’s instruction. He had provided all the content, Shen Yuan just had to present it believably. Besides, hadn’t he spent hours and hours studying Shen Qingqiu’s psychology and mannerism? Hadn’t he been living alongside Shen Qingqiu for months now?

Shen Yuan, filed with sudden confidence, dipped his brush once again in the inkwell and wrote: 

Shen Yuan stopped, scowling. Shen Qingqiu wouldn’t have asked Binghe if he was interested in the book. Shen Qingqiu wouldn’t care. He looked at what he had for a moment and decided it was fixable. 

Shen Yuan ripped the parchment in half and scrunched the ripped paper into a tight ball. Shen Qingqiu, who was hurriedly organizing a stack of files presumably to pass onto Ming Fan, glared at Shen Yuan with open disgust. 

“Did you forget how to write?” 

“The ink dripped.”

“Clumsy.”

“Yes, Shizun.”

Shen Yuan took a clean piece of paper and started over. 

Shen Yuan felt a little smug at that hint of encouragement. It wasn’t overt, but it allowed the possibility of Shen Yuan and Shen Qingqiu paying Binghe compliments in discussing his progress. He knew Luo Binghe would cling to any suggestion of favor. 

He heard a small huff over his shoulder and startled slightly to realize that Shen Qingqiu was reading the start of the letter over Shen Yuan’s shoulder. “If you provide a positive report on the forms of a blundering, infantile, under-education, over-arrogant, unathletic, malnutrition weakling who had been studying cultivation for less than a month this master will personally expel you from the sect due to a dangerously alarming lack of basic knowledge.”

Shen Yuan felt this was deeply unfair. He saw how hard Binghe was working. He knew what Shen Qingqiu’s approval meant to him. Binghe hadn’t grown much in the short time he had been on Bai Zhan but he was trying and Shen Yuan was incredibly proud of the progress that Binghe had already made. He couldn’t stop himself from snapping back, “I said might.”

Shen Qingqiu froze. Shen Yuan froze as well, realizing a beat too late how much vitriol he had packed into three simple words. 

Shen Qingqiu’s mouth curled into the faintest sly smile. “I knew you were trouble,” he said, simple and smug. He stepped away, walking towards the door and sliding a small back over his shoulder. “It doesn’t matter that your goal is to help me achieve my own ends, you’re still trouble.”

Shen Yuan slowly unfroze. He unclenched his hand from the pen and inspected the drip of ink that had landed near the edge of the parchment when he jumped. It was small but he would still have to rewrite what he had.

“Oh, and Shen Yuan.” 

Shen Yuan looked up, the voice coming from closer than he had expected. 

There was a flash of movement. Shen Yuan’s head snapped to the side, pain bursting across his ear and cheek, sharp and hot. His breath left him in a startled, noiseless gust as his world narrowed to the pain in his face, the sound of the blood rushing in his ears, and the looming figure of Shen Qingqiu standing before him, hand still raised. 

The realization came a moment later, slow and stupid. He just slapped me. Shen Yuan stared at the empty air before him, not moving, not even blinking. I was just slapped. 

It hurt, yes. The pain seemed to be only growing and warping since the moment of impact. But what Shen Yuan hadn’t anticipated was the rush of shame. He slapped me. Not a punch, or a cut, or a kick. A slap. It was crude and demeaning. 

“Do not talk back to me,” said Shen Qingqiu, in that same light voice. 

Shen Yuan forced himself to look at him. Fear and confusion and shame and anger all boiled within him. He thought about yelling. He thought about standing up and saying something cutting and then walking away and never coming back. He thought about saying something heroic and strong. He thought about very calmly saying something that would rattle Shen Qingqiu to his bones and make him regret treating Shen Yuan so poorly. He tried to open his mouth but his body wasn’t responding how it should and his words were all stuck somewhere in his throat. 

Shen Qingqiu looked down at him, expressionless. A moment later, he tilted his head slightly and reached out an elegant hand. Shen Yuan flinched back. Shen Qingqiu sneered at the reaction, hand snapping forward to grip Shen Yuan’s chin. Shen Yuan numbly allowed Shen Qingqiu to twist his head to the side to inspect the damage. 

Shen Qingqiu clicked his tongue in annoyance and spread out his palm across Shen Yuan’s jaw. A moment later, warm tingles rushed across his skin like flowing water. Shen Yuan could scarcely breathe. Shen Qingqiu’s hand was cold.

“There. Your skin discolors so easily. You should try to find a way to avoid that. It won’t do you good in a battle to have your injuries so clearly demarcated.” Shen Qingqiu’s hand fell away. He calmly walked back to the door. “This master is leaving. Finish that letter soon so you can be on your way.”

Shen Yuan stared at the door for a long, long time. 

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Binghe slowly moved through the last of the basic forms, his brow furrowed in concentration, his hands sliding through the air and his leg slowly extended, weight shifting minutely to allow him to keep his balance as his leg slowly extended into a perfect side kick. Shen Yuan could see the slight tremble in his standing leg from the strain but Binghe’s balance never wavered. He was still moving too quickly but all the foundations were there. 

“Excellent work,” Shen Yuan said the moment Binghe rose from his final bow, signifying the end of the sequence.  

Binghe’s eyes lit up. “Does Shixiong mean it? This disciple knows he is weak and inexperienced.”

Shen Yuan raised the letter he was holding and tapped it contemplatively against the palm of his other hand. “Strength and experience will come in time. They are the natural rewards of hard work and repeated practice.” 

Binghe seemed to hesitate. Shen Yuan, feeling rather wise and brotherly, gestured for him to speak. Binghe looked down at the ground and toed gently at the dirt as he said, “This disciple hopes he has earned a positive report to Master Shen, is all.”

“Ah,” Shen Yuan, a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. Oh, Luo Binghe. So eager to please, so desperate to prove himself. Shen Yuan’s smile slowly faded as his thoughts strayed. He turned away and pretended to be busy with packing up Binghe’s report and the books he was taking back to Qing Jing Peak so that Luo Binghe couldn’t catch anything in his expression. After a minute, he cleared his throat and turned back to say, “Yes, this one imagines his report will be rather positive.”

Luo Binghe beamed. 

══ ❀ ══

From that day on, Shen Yuan wrote the letters on Shen Qingqiu’s behalf. Shen Qingqiu provided outlines and would sometimes skim the more complicated material. After a few weeks of working off of individual outlines, Shen Qingqiu started to provide Shen Yuan broad notes over a series of lessons or ideas and Shen Yuan would break it down into steps and write the letters accordingly. 

He and Luo Binghe fell into a rhythm of sorts. Shen Yuan would drop off his letter and collect any written work Luo Binghe had completed. Luo Binghe would return any books he had completed and would dutifully report his progress in his cultivation. Sometimes, Luo Binghe would have a question or a request and Shen Yuan would graciously help him out, pleased to have an excuse to spend more time with him. 

Pleased, because Luo Binghe was nice to be around. There was no other way to say it. He was thoughtful and funny and with a quiet yet razor-sharp wit that Shen Yuan found troublesome yet hopelessly endearing. Shen Yuan had been prepared to admire Luo Binghe like a painting or a sunset. He hadn’t been prepared to like him. Certainly not this much. 

To make it worse, Luo Binghe seemed to slowly be realizing that he rather liked being around Shen Yuan. He didn’t seem to know what to do with that information. He would stare at Shen Yuan when he laughed and grew uncomfortable when the conversation strayed too far from their studies, unwilling to divulge any personal information although he did seem extremely interested in hearing whatever history Shen Yuan was willing (and able) to share. Shen Yuan couldn’t help himself from feeling a certain level of responsibility and fondness towards the boy but he never pushed the line of this tentative friendship. It was best to keep his distance. 

Afterall, Luo Binghe was destined to be Luo Binghe and Shen Yuan wasn’t even supposed to be here. Shen Yuan would support him and nurture his studies but he wouldn’t get in his way. 

Although he couldn’t help but let some of that fondness leak out into his letters. 

°❀°

°❀°

“The forest? Are you bringing tents?”

“Nope,” said Luo Binghe brightly, thumbing through the new calligraphy guidebook that Shen Yuan had dropped off. “Just some mats. The Bai Zhan disciples do it all the time when the weather is nice.”

“Isn’t that… dirty?” Shen Yuan felt a little uncomfortable even asking, like he was somehow implying that he agreed with the things Shen Qingqiu said about Bai Zhan—that they were all  closer to animals scavenging for meat than they were to men. 

Luo Binghe’s eyes flashed with the faintest flicker of amusement. Shen Yuan wondered what little joke Binghe had just made to himself. He had known that Binghe’s sense of humor was a rather private thing. He hadn’t realized how frustrating it was to know that he was so close to that sharp and clever wit but to not be trusted with it. “Shixiong need not worry,” Binghe said, fond but formal, “Bai Zhan disciples don’t wear white.”

“Your robes are such a light gray they might as well be white,” said Shen Yuan, frowning slightly. “And Luo Binghe is not a disciple of Bai Zhan.”

“This Luo Binghe happens to be very good at washing clothes.”

“Well. As long as it’s safe.”

“Yes, Shixiong,” said Luo Binghe, everything about him perfectly polite and deferential.

“It is safe, yes?”

“Of course, Shixiong,” Luo Binghe said with that same sincere tone.

°❀°

“His ass is not safe,” said the random cannon fodder Bai Zhan disciple that Shen Yuan stopped to interrogate on his way to the Rainbow Bridge. “Bitches die in those woods. That’s why we do it, you know?”

“Oh,” said Shen Yuan, “Thank you.”

°❀°

°❀°

°❀°

°❀°

“I’ve been thinking about Shen Qingqiu.”

Shen Yuan’s hand froze over the Go board for a fraction of a moment before he slowly continued to place his black stone on the intended intersection. “Mm.” 

Luo Binghe didn’t seem impressed with Shen Yuan’s move. He placed his next move almost immediately. It was a pretty good move too. Shen Yuan’s hand partially covered his mouth while he considered his next move, trying to pretend like he didn’t notice the intense way Luo Binghe was watching him. 

Long enough passed that Shen Yuan almost thought the conversation was over when Luo Binghe asked, “Does Shixiong know him very well?”

Shen Yuan’s eyes flickered to Luo Binghe’s. After their long sparing practice, Binghe’s hair was unruly and wild. His eyes, though guarded, were bright and clear. Shen Yuan gave a half-hearted shrug and turned his eyes back to the board, though he couldn’t focus on the game.

Binghe persisted. “When will I be able to meet him? It’s been almost a year.”

Never , Shen Yuan thought. The word rose in his mind with a sudden ferocity that almost felt like anger. He thought about the hooks on the walls of the woodshed. He had once stood in the woodshed for a full hour, staring at the hooks that had been used to subject Binghe to vicious abuse in another lifetime. Never ever ever. He let out his breath in a slow, noisy exhale so that he didn’t do something stupid before saying, “I don’t know.”

“He’s never even mentioned it in passing?”

“I don’t know, Binghe,” Shen Yuan repeated tersely. “I can’t remember if he ever brought it up. Maybe later but not now. Can we focus on the game? Please?”

The rest of the game passed without much conversation.

°❀°

°❀°

°❀°

°❀°

°❀°

It was Luo Binghe’s birthday.

Shen Yuan stared at the calendar. He had celebrated this day when he was in the hospital and looked forward to it almost as much as he had looked forward to his own. His sister had always made fun of him for celebrating the birthday of a fictional character but she hadn’t read Pride’s Immortal Damaged Way so she didn’t get it. 

Shen Yuan’s mind went a little numb with pain as it always did when he thought about his sister or his brothers. He thought, instead, about Binghe. 

This would be Luo Binghe’s second birthday on Cang Qiong Mountain. His first had passed only a few months after his arrival. Shen Yuan had played it totally cool, accidentally forgetting that he still had some sweet bread wrapped in cloth in his bag, and would Luo Shidi mind taking it off his hands? He really couldn’t fit all these books and the bread in his bag at once. Luo Binghe had accepted a little skeptically and quickly changed the topic to ask about what the kitchens were like on Qing Jing.

Today wasn’t really Luo Binghe’s birthday. Or rather it was likely not the day he had been actually born. Binghe’s mother hadn’t had any way of knowing when exactly Binghe had been born. His mother wasn’t even sure exactly what day she had found him, since at the time she hadn’t had been counting the days. She knew it had been unseasonably cold. She knew the days were still short but getting longer. She knew it had been one of the luckiest days of her life. But she didn’t know the anniversary. 

Binghe had sworn it hadn’t bothered him, but one day the washer woman took Binghe in her arms and said, “My little Binghe, would you like to celebrate your birthday this year?” and Binghe had looked up at her with confusion and said, “But Mama I don’t have a birthday.” And she had laughed and twirled one of his lovingly maintained curls around her finger, saying, “Of course you have a birthday, darling child. Just because we don’t know when it is doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen every year. We can celebrate it any day we like!” 

And they had picked their favorite day of the year—a nice, auspicious day in the middle of Spring—and agreed that it would be the day they celebrated Binghe coming into the world. And Binghe’s eyes had sparkled like his mother had given him the sun, and his mother had smiled, grateful to be able to give him something to have inspired that much joy, and for just that moment the world had been simple and beautiful and full of tender wonder.

Shen Yuan thought about Luo Binghe, who was probably at that moment practicing something or other on Bai Zhan peak. He wondered if he remembered what today was. He wondered if he, too, was thinking about the day he had been given his birthday. 

A new letter wasn’t due on Bai Zhan for two more days and Shen Yuan couldn’t think of a way he could do something to help today feel special without raising suspicion or being punished for shirking his studies and duties on Qing Jing, but Shen Yuan felt tormented holding all this knowledge and not being able to act on it. It was a strange thing, to be given so much intimate knowledge about someone and to barely be able to call them a friend.  

Shen Yuan was restless that night. He stared up at the moon and imagined that Luo Binghe was staring up at that same moon. He wondered what it would be like to be able to watch the moon together, to just sit side by side in comfortable silence, without pretense or lies.

Chapter Text

Eventually, Shen Qingiqu almost entirely removed himself from the upbringing of Luo Binghe. Shen Qingqiu still provided rudimentary guidelines for the pace at which Luo Binghe should be introduced to new information and which resources should be provided for which obstacles. Shen Yuan still reported progress in monthly reports that Shen Yuan doubted Shen Qingqiu was reading. Luo Binghe, being the fated savant he was, progressed well at an almost horrifying pace. The faster Luo Binghe progressed, the less Shen Qingqiu seemed to care. 

Shen Yuan knew that Shen Qingqiu was feeling a creeping sense of intimidation and jealousy of the child, who was clearly proving himself to be the unique talent that Liu Qingge had claimed him to be. That understanding didn’t stop Shen Qingqiu’s actions from being mind-boggling to Shen Yuan. It was like having the world’s most beautiful painting slowly form before your eyes, stroke by stroke, line by line, and not even caring to look up from your phone to give it a passing glance. How could anyone not pay attention to Luo Binghe’s competence and skill? How could anyone hear that Luo Binghe had managed to spin a leaf in his palm after only a week of practice and not lose their mind? But no amount of indigent disbelief on Shen Yuan’s part could change the reality: Shen Qingqiu didn’t want anything to do with Luo Binghe.

After a few months of Shen Yuan’s attempts to present Luo Binghe’s progress in every way he could think of to endear him to Shen Qingqiu to no success, Shen Yuan reached a definitive conclusion. This conclusion was emotionally nuanced and logistically complicated but basically boiled down to ‘fuck that guy for real.’ Shen Qingqiu didn’t care about Luo Binghe. Shen Qingqiu would never care about Luo Binghe. Fine. His loss. Shen Qingqiu was so used to looking down on everyone that at this point his neck wouldn’t even be able to bend back enough to see how far Luo Binghe was above him. Shen Yuan wasn’t going to waste his breath.

Freshly dedicated to his new mindset of Fuck That Guy For Real, Shen Yuan partially gave up trying to emulate Shen Qingqiu’s mannerisms in the letters. It wasn’t like Shen Qingqiu was reading them anyways, and if he was being honest with himself, Shen Yuan rather liked writing his twice-weekly letters to Binghe. Being able to write a little more freely helped the whole process be that much more enjoyable.

So he started to slip in a little information about his day. He commented with his opinions on things such as the weather or certain foods. Luo Binghe was so interested in his opinions that he started to share more. And maybe he should have drawn the line there but, listen: the days were long and living in the bamboo house was lonely. So Shen Yuan liked the attention. So what. The attention of Luo Binghe? The Luo Binghe? You’d like it too. You would, don’t lie to me.

So Shen Yuan started to write longer and longer letters. And Luo Binghe’s letters matched him step for step, asking questions, making observations, and sometimes sharing his own thoughts or feelings, which Shen Yuan was always very careful to receive with tender respect.

This continued for almost two years. It wasn’t a problem until, one day, it suddenly very much was.

Shen Yuan had been lying on his sleeping mat in the middle of the day (which he wasn’t supposed to do but Shen Qingqiu was out and who cared) reading Luo Binghe’s most recent letter.

Normal so far. The letter continued. 

Shen Yuan scoffed. Luo Binghe, really! The answers to these questions were very commonplace! Anyone who had read the book would know that the Empress had fallen in love with Qi Yan during their time spent together on the road to the Ashen Lands. Even though their romance wasn’t at the heart of their story it was vital to their motivations and the plot! Shen Yuan was already drafting his explanation in his mind (it would surely be several pages—really, Shen Yuan didn’t know why Binghe always needed so much explanation after reading these novels) as he skimmed over the last paragraph.

Shen Yuan reached for a fresh sheet of parchment, ready to launch into his explanation of Qi Yuan’s psychology and how the trauma of his sister’s passing affected his relationship with his home, etc., and why those elements resonated with Empress Yueguang, etc., etc.,—-the letter would have to be quite long, quite long!—when he stopped short. 

Hm. 

Shen Yuan reread the last paragraph, slower. 

…hm. 

Shen Yuan read the letter over in its entirety multiple times. He then put the letter down and left the bamboo house. He practiced his forms for a number of hours. He reported to the kitchen for his shift to help prepare lunch for the peak, on-time and without any mumbled complaints. He read a bestiary by the creek until the evening light was too dim to read by. When he returned to the bamboo house that evening, the letter was still the same as it had been that afternoon. 

It was at that point that Shen Yuan was forced to face an uncomfortable truth: Luo Binghe rather liked Shen Qingqiu.

This was no one’s fault but Shen Yuan himself. He thought back over the letters he had sent in Shen Qingqiu’s name and wanted to strangle himself for his polite mercies. But what was he supposed to do??? Bully him???? Be mean to Luo Binghe??? What was the point of going through all this work to make sure Luo Binghe was shielded from the pain and abuse of Shen Qingqiu if all he was doing was arranging for that pain and abuse to come himself instead?? No, Shen Yuan could not be mean to Luo Binghe. He might as well open a rift to endless abyss now and push Binghe in himself if that was his plan. But it seemed like the alternative was unwittingly tricking Luo Binghe into thinking that Shen Qingqiu was actually quite reasonable and kind. 

Shen Yuan agonized about how to proceed for about ten minutes. Then he decided that he was too tired to make any big decisions tonight anyways. 

By the morning of the next time Shen Yuan was due his letters to Bai Zhan and Qiong Ding what Shen Yuan needed to do felt clear. He would have to pull back. “Shen Qingqiu” could still be supportive and helpful without being kind. 

Shen Yuan wrote the letter “from” Shen Qingqiu. Then he collected the actual letter from Shen Qingqiu which would be brought first to Master Yue. 

“This is such a waste of time. I’m too busy to engage in such a point, frivolous task multiple times a week,” Shen Qingqiu bristled when handing off his letter for Yue Qingyuan. “You should tell him that. If it’s beneath me it’s certainly beneath him. He should be ashamed for being so indulgent with his free time.”

══ ❀ ══

“Shizun apologizes for providing such a short response, especially when your recent letter was so long.”

Yue Qingyuan said, “He said that?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“Ah.” Yue Qingyuan smiled faintly in understanding and accepted the letter.

══ ❀ ══

Luo Binghe ripped the letter open immediately. Shen Yuan carefully did not wince. 

He should have expected this, really. For the first year or so Luo Binghe waited to read his letter until Shen Yuan left, but this last year Luo Binghe had been opening his letters as soon as Shen Yuan handed them over, insisting on taking time to read them before they did anything else. Sometimes Luo Binghe would even meet Shen Yuan on the rainbow bridge, as if he couldn’t wait the few extra minutes it would take for Shen Yuan to walk the letter all the way to Bai Zhan. On those days, Luo Binghe would read the letter while they walked back to Bai Zhan together for the rest of Binghe’s lessons. On those days it wasn’t unusual for them to get all the way to the practice fields before Luo Binghe was done reading. 

In retrospect, maybe the letters had been too long and indulgent at times. Yes, this new approach was better. Much better. Much more fitting. Shen Yuan reminded himself of that over and over again as he watched Luo Binghe’s eyes quickly scan the letter, surprise and disappointment leaking through his neutral mask.

Luo Binghe flipped the letter over, as if expecting to see more on the back. “That’s it?” 

“Hm? Oh, I suppose,” Shen Yuan said kindly. “Come, we have new forms to review today.”

“Is Shizun feeling unwell?” Luo Binghe asked, his voice colored with anxiety. 

“Unwell? Why would he be unwell?” 

Luo Binghe hesitated then said, “So he’s okay. Then it must be something else that made today’s letter so unusual.”

“Hmm. Must be. So, we should review the previous forms first—“

“He didn’t say anything to you? No explanation for why the letter would be so different?” 

Shen Yuan suppressed a sigh. “Different how, Shidi?” 

Luo Binghe raised the letter and inhaled, preparing to read it out loud. Shen Yuan already knew what it said, of course. He still had to steel himself not to wince. “To the disciple on Bai Zhan,” Luo Binghe’s voice cut off, as if even this small thing was almost too much. He ground his teeth and said again, “To the disciple on Bai Zhan, I do not have time this week to discuss petty matters. Study well. More instruction to come. Sincerely, Shen Qingqiu.”

Shen Yuan nodded, like this was quite expected. “Alright.”

“Alright?” Luo Binghe repeated in disbelief. “Shen Yuan delivers every letter from Shizun. Surely he can begin to recognize that something has suddenly changed.”

“Well, it is… rather short.” 

Luo Binghe let out a humorless laugh. “How true are the observations of a disciple from the scholars’ peak,” he said with a bitterness Shen Yuan had never heard in his voice before.

“Perhaps Luo Binghe has grown accustomed to a certain level of attentiveness,” said Shen Yuan slowly, “but Shizun is really quite busy. He has many responsibilities and disciples who need his supervision.”

Luo Binghe closed his eyes for a moment, breathing through his nose in measured breaths. After a long moment he said, “Yes, Shixiong is quite right. No matter. There is always next time.”

══ ❀ ══

But the next letter was worse. 

Luo Binghe had been waiting for him on the rainbow bridge. Instead of his usual eager smile, he greeted Shen Yuan with an open nervousness, bouncing on his feet and wringing his hands. But then he saw the letter in Shen Yuan’s hands—just a small slip of parchment folded over itself, hardly bigger than Shen Yuan’s palm—and Luo Binghe’s expression fell into almost tragic misery, darkening quickly with childish, impudent rage.

Shen Yuan passed over the pathetic excuse of a letter a little reluctantly. Luo Binghe threw him one more vindictive glare before opening the letter.

Perhaps Luo Binghe had hoped the first one was a fluke, but this time there was no mistake. The whole letter was scarcely more than two lines. Luo Binghe barely glanced at the characters before rounding on Shen Yuan. 

“What did you say to him?”

Shen Yuan was thrown off. “What did I say to who? To Shizun?”

“Yes.”

“About what—you? Nothing. Why?”

Luo Binghe held up the letter, holding it so tightly that the parchment bent. “Shizun’s letters have suddenly changed entirely. In three years, there has never been such an abrupt shift in his treatment of me. There is nothing I did that could have caused this shift and so it must have been you.”

 “Did I not tell you that he has a propensity to be curt?”

“But not to me.” Luo Binghe practically growled the words. “He’s not like that to me.”

Shen Yuan cleared his throat delicately and refused to answer.

It was better this way. This was for the best, he reminded himself as Luo Binghe’s expression flickered with anger and hostility and resentment and hurt and before carefully Luo Binghe shuttered his emotions one at a time until his expression showed nothing at all. 

“Shen Yuan must forgive this one for requesting a day off from our lessons. I am suddenly feeling rather unwell.”

Shen Yuan wanted to reach out and pull Luo Binghe to him. He wanted to run away and never come back. He wanted to cry. He wanted to beg for forgiveness. He said, “Perfectly acceptable. I’ll return next week.”

══ ❀ ══

After the fifth letter contained nothing but a few hollow sentences, Luo Binghe dropped worthless letter on the ground and said, “Tell me how to fix this.” 

Shen Yuan said, “there’s nothing to fix.”

Luo Binghe’s breath came hard but measured. He stared at Shen Yuan like he could lift answers from clues hidden away in his expression. It took everything he had, but Shen Yuan didn’t look away.

══ ❀ ══

Shen Yuan felt too bad to continue to write heartless letters so he stopped writing any letter at all. Shen Qingqiu was busy, he said. Shizun was too stressed with the upcoming reports. He had been spending too much time on those letters recently, really he’s very important, I will summarize his instructions for you. 

Luo Binghe’s despondent mood soured until it turned into a thing with teeth. He glared when Shen Yuan came by. He scoffed at Shen Yuan’s instruction and advice. Shen Yuan insisted that Luo Binghe’s studies carry on as normal but now instead of being a diligent, thoughtful, and perfect student, Luo Binghe was obstinate and spiteful. When they played Go, Luo Binghe laid each stone with the intention of not only winning but obliterating Shen Yuan’s game, white stones capturing his black ones ones with brutal efficiency.

He was still working hard. He was still doing his essays and readings. He was still training daily in his cultivation. Through all his anger and confusion and hurt, he still asked Shen Yuan every week if Shen Qingqiu had mentioned him. Had Shizun read his essay over the common Southern demonic beasts? Had Shizun read anything good recently? Was Shizun feeling any better? Would he have more time in his very busy schedule soon?

Shen Yuan started to hear that Luo Binghe was spending more time on the Bai Zhan practice fields. Luo Binghe was fighting the other students, older students, and he was consistently losing. He started to meet Shen Yuan with bruises staining his perfect complexion and limbs that made him wince to move. Shen Yuan knew how quickly Luo Binghe healed already, even though the seal on his blood had yet to break, so he knew the damage that he was sustaining had to be severe.

This lasted for around four months. Those four months felt like a prolonged stand-off. Shen Yuan was waiting for Luo Binghe to let it go and get used to the new and improved impersonal and professional letters. Shen Yuan couldn’t even guess what Luo Binghe was waiting for. Sometimes he glared at Shen Yuan like he was waiting for him to confess to brutally murdering Shen Qingqiu with his bare hands. Sometimes he looked to the horizon in the direction of Qing Jing with naked longing before turning his searching gaze to Shen Yuan, something in his eyes desperate and lost. 

 It was Shen Yuan who broke first. He had been twitchy recently. Easily irritated. It was a bad mix with Luo Binghe’s mood, which was both cold and volatile. They hadn’t even been talking, just standing in tense silence and waiting for some other disciples to finish with the water pump so they could fill their canteens and Luo Binghe had let out a wistful sigh. It was such a small nothing of a sound, accidental and not meant to be heard, but it made Shen Yuan furious for reasons he could not understand. 

“Why does it even matter to you?” he demanded. 

Luo Binghe wasted no time with being confused. He knew precisely what Shen Yuan was asking. In a way, this argument had already been happening for weeks, just simmering in the background—a bomb going off in slow motion. “Of course it matters. He’s my teacher and I care about him.”

“You’ve never even met.” 

“If you saw the letters he’s sent me—“

“They’re just letters.” Shen Yuan tried to sound reasonable and wise but his voice sounded tense and off. He was angry and slightly frantic in his need to understand. “You might think you know him but you don’t. You just know what he wants you to know and that’s not worth all—all this.” 

Luo Binghe rounded on him. It was a very inappropriate time for Shen Yuan to realize how much Luo Binghe had grown. Luo Binghe had been only ten when he had arrived and now he was  fourteen. They were almost the same height now and Shen Yuan knew that he had been growing too. He was so distracted by this that it took him a moment to process when Binghe said, “You’re just jealous because he likes me more.” 

Shen Yuan had to repeat the words back in his head again to make sure he had understood. Even then, he said, “what?”

Luo Binghe’s chin lifted the smallest amount, doubling down. “Shixiong told me himself that Shizun is curt and mean to everyone, but Shizun treats me with much care and tenderness,” he said, his words fierce and firm. “I understand why you resent the favor I’ve been granted but I ask Shen Yuan wouldn’t interfere.”

Shen Yuan sputtered, “I’m not—why would I—you—jealous?” He let out a sharp disbelieving laugh. Jealous! If only Binghe knew what he was saying. “Jealous of his favor? Binghe, I live in his house.” 

He meant it as a way to remind him that he knew what he was talking about when he spoke on Shen Qingqiu’s character, but he didn’t realize until after he said it and Luo Binghe’s expression flashed with surprise and something else dark and almost like anger that Luo Binghe actually hadn’t known that Shen Yuan lived in the bamboo house. 

“You live in his house,” repeated Luo Binghe slowly after a tense moment had passed. “You see him daily. And still you stopped him from sending me letters just a few times a week. Who knew Shen Yuan was petty and cruel?” 

Shen Yuan didn’t know what to say to that. He was scared if he said anything he would just dig himself deeper.

Luo Binghe said, “No matter. This only confirms that Shizun really does favor this disciple an extraordinary amount, since Shen Yuan would have no reason to interfere unless he had reason to be nervous. Isn’t that right, Shixiong? Doesn’t your heart ache?”

Shen Yuan had no idea what he meant by that but he disagreed by default just based on Luo Binghe tone he used, which was a hormonal stew of smugness and anger. He decided that he didn’t want to know what Luo Binghe was implying. He ignored the comment entirely, walking over to the water pump which had long since been vacant. 

Luo Binghe followed at his heels, saying bitterly, “I should have known it would be like this. I knew that Shen Yuan spent much time with Shizun,” in that same weird voice.

Shen Yun once again ignored him. Luo Binghe let out his breath in a huff and mumbled something under his breath.

“Luo Binghe, if you have something to say then say it directly,” Shen Yuan snapped, exasperated. 

Luo Binghe glanced at Shen Yuan and away very fast. Then he stopped and straightened his shoulders and looked back with deliberate poise. Shen Yuan couldn’t help but notice that his cheeks were a little pink. “Shixiong is quite right. It’s best to say these things directly. What I wish to say is this: I will not be so easily dissuaded or overlooked in a vying for Shizun’s heart.” 

“Shizun’s…heart?” Shen Yuan had been right, he hadn’t wanted to know this. This conversation was already giving him such a headache. “A vying?” 

Luo Binghe nodded tersely. 

Shen Yuan stared at him, waiting for the pieces to fall into place, but the pieces were three legos, a handful of tinker toys, one rubix cube, and pieces from five separate jigsaws; they simply would not connect. So he said, “I see.” 

Luo Binghe nodded again, slowly this time, with a sort of fierce understanding. He looked at Shen Yuan for a long moment, then began to work the water pump with a hint of uncalled for aggression. 

Shen Yuan watched him. He was still very confused, but as he watched he thought about the letters that Binghe would write to Shen Qingqiu. He thought about their tenderness and their open yearning. 

Hmm. Maybe he did understand. 

Shen Yuan softened a little, imagining Luo Binghe dreaming of one day becoming the head disciple. He probably thought that Shen Qingqiu’s favor came with all sorts of cool benefits and specialized training. Of course Luo Binghe would yearn for that, Shen Yuan thought fondly to himself when Luo Binghe stepped aside and let Shen Yuan have his turn filling up his water at the pump. Luo Binghe was the fated anti-hero/hero general overall-badass protagonist, afterall. He needed goals and obstacles. Since his goal was no longer escaping the violent abuse of Shen Qingqiu and spending years enacting his bloody and merciless revenge, his new goal in this timeline was to prove himself by becoming Shizun’s top disciple! It was… it was good. It was sweet. It was a normal, healthy goal that would help motivate Luo Binghe to become a better cultivator, a better student, and a better man. 

Shen Yuan sighed happily, taking a moment to bask in the warm glow of feeling like he had actually had a measurable positive impact on Luo Binghe’s arc. What a happy, healthy young man he was growing up to be. He took a big drink of water, enjoying the crisp, cool, and refreshing moment. Things were going to be okay. 

“One day I’m going to marry him,” said Luo Binghe boldly. 

Shen Yuan spilled his water everywhere. 

══ ❀ ══

It was like this. 

And don’t shoot the messenger, these are literally just the facts of the situation, like I get it, I also read PIDW and I also know that Luo Binghe is as straight as they come, okay? Like I’m also confused and concerned by this but these are just the facts of the situation as it currently stands.

So it was like this. 

Luo Binghe had a crush on Shen Qingqiu. 

Not only that, but Luo Binghe thought that Shen Yuan also had a crush on Shen Qingqiu.

Shen Yuan didn’t know which was more ridiculous. He was straight. Luo Binghe was straight. They were two perfectly parallel lines hanging out a respectable distance away from each other. Like an equals sign. There was absolutely no reason that either of them should be discussing which of them harbored romantic intentions towards their older (! ew!) male (!!!EW!) mentor. 

And as if Shen Yuan wasn’t already alarmed by all this, there was also the secret hidden layer over everything that Luo Binghe didn’t even know about: the sweet, charismatic, charming, knowledgeable mentor that Luo Binghe apparently harbored romantic intentions for wasn’t even a real person! That man was a ghost, a fake construct of Shen Yuan’s well-intended but now hugely upsetting machinations. When Shen Yuan thought of this he felt like throwing up out of guilt. How could he have played with sweet Luo Binghe’s heart like this?! Luo Binghe was still months away from his fifteenth birthday, at this age he should be shyly pursuing sweet little Shimei who would confess their feelings over a gift of baked sweets, he shouldn’t be fixated on a creepy old guy. If this plot had happened in PIDW Shen Yuan would have thrown the book to the floor. Not only was it the most ridiculous and unnecessary romantic subplot, but also gay people weren’t supposed to exist in cool books for boys. If Shen Yuan had learned anything from snooping through his sister’s bookshelves, he knew that gay people were only in books that had men with disproportionately large hands on the cover. Luo Binghe’s hands were normal sized. None of it made sense.

Shen Yuan barely slept that night, tossing and turning. The next morning he immediately sat down at Shen Qingqiu’s desk and wrote his first letter to Binghe in weeks. It just wasn’t right. If Luo Binghe had feelings for this fake Shen Qingqiu, then Shen Yuan couldn’t just cut off the narrative like that. Being a little too attached to an authority figure was one thing but a boy’s first crush was a big deal. If “Shen Qingqiu” just ghosted Luo Binghe out of nowhere with no explanation wouldn’t that wreck massive psychological damage on his already fragile mental state? 

Besides, not that it mattered or whatever but Shen Yuan couldn’t get over the knowledge that Luo Binghe thought that Shen Yuan was somehow also…hahahaha. And that he was??? crushing???? on Shen Qingqiu?????????? The mere thought turned his brain to mush and made his skin prickle uncomfortably. And not just crushing on him, obsessing with him to the extent that he was intentionally blocking Luo Binghe’s communication to him. Literally what kind of psychopath would do that. It just didn’t sit right with Shen Yuan. Luo Binghe had to be proven wrong so that this could all be left behind him. 

Shen Yuan read what he had back to himself. Good. It was sufficiently reassuring. 

…but would it tell Luo Binghe that Shen Yuan didn’t have feelings for Shen Qingqiu? Shen Yuan thought for a moment then continued.  

Shen Yuan wasn’t convinced that this would be the reassurance that Luo Binghe needed but it would have to do. He quickly added a few brief paragraphs about the lessons he had missed, providing some feedback from his notes, and gave a few suggested exercises. At the end of his letter he wrote, 

Shen Yuan felt this letter was a little embarrassing but it couldn’t be helped. Almost all of Luo Binghe’s love interests in PIDW were sweet and kind, especially in his early years. Shen Yuan didn’t know what kind of impact it would have on Luo Binghe to be spurned by a romantic interest. If Luo Binghe truly did have a crush on “Shen Qingqiu” and Shen Yuan knew then it was really his duty to write “Shen Qingqiu” to be as nice and flirty as possible. There was a bit of a complication with Shen Qingqiu being, you know, an aloof immortal cultivator, Luo Binghe’s teacher, and also a MAN. But, you know. Whatever. Luo Binghe flipped through romantic interests like a teenage girl trying to find something interesting to watch on daytime broadcast television. He would lose interest soon. In the meantime, Shen Yuan could pretend to be doting and soft. Such was the level of dedication that Shen Yuan had to his role in the narrative. 

°❀°

(Ah, the earnestness of this young boy’s crushes, Shen Yuan thought to himself with somewhat mortified amusement.)

°❀°

Shen Yuan had no delusions about Luo Binghe’s eagerness to meet Shen Qingqiu in person. No doubt he wanted to be in the area to save Shen Qingqiu from an unexpected demon attack, saving Shen Qingqiu’s life while sustaining severe injury so that Shen Qingqiu would have to nurse him back to health in his bed. Or maybe Luo Binghe was hoping to be just a step away when Shen Qingqiu trips over a stone so that Luo Binghe could catch him in a low ballroom dip, and chuckle some flirty line about how he would always catch Shizun when he fell. 

Even just thinking about these fantasies filled Shen Yuan with a level of discomfort so strong it bordered on horror. Why did Luo Binghe have to have feelings for… that fucking guy? Even though the construct that was Luo Binghe’s Shen Qingqiu wasn’t Shen Yuan’s Shen Qingqiu at all, and usually Shen Yuan didn’t have trouble keeping the two separate in his mind, he couldn’t deny that Luo Binghe had feelings for the man that Shen Yuan strongly, strongly disliked. 

His emotions must have reflected in his expression because Shen Qingqiu looked up from his desk and, seeing Shen Yuan’s expression, asked, “What are you reading?” 

Shen Yuan glanced up quickly. “A letter from Luo Binghe.”

Shen Qingqiu knew that Luo Binghe had been sending letters back. It had been impossible to hide with them sharing the same writing table. Shen Yuan worried sometimes about Shen Qingqiu finding out how severely Shen Yuan had misrepresented him but Shen Qingqiu seemed so determined to pretend that Luo Binghe didn’t exist at all.

He expected Shen Qingqiu to immediately lose interest at the mention of his most neglected disciple. Instead he said, “Shen Yuan appears concerned.”

Shen Yuan hesitated. In truth, he was concerned. There was very little he wasn’t concerned about when it came to Luo Binghe. He was concerned about his treatment on Bai Zhan. He was concerned about his overall psychology—more-so, recently. He was concerned about his cultivation being essentially taught by a formerly-dead fourteen year old with no credentials outside of his possibly obsessive interest in Wuxia novels. Reading Wuxia didn’t qualify him to teach cultivation. He was a Hatsune Miku fan, for cuss sake. 

Due to the terms of their arrangement, Liu Qingge wasn’t allowed to provide Luo Binghe cultivation advice. Now Shen Qingqiu wasn’t even indirectly overseeing his education. How much could Luo Binghe grow in these conditions? Had this been Shen Qingqiu’s plan all along? To sabotage the education of the one disciple that Liu Qingge had specially identified as having unique potential?

Shen Yuan said, “Luo Binghe is interested in visiting Qing Jing Peak.” 

Shen Qingqiu didn’t seem surprised by this. After a short pause he raised one elegant eyebrow. “Well? Is he going to?” 

Shen Yuan was stunned. “Shizun?” 

“He’s a disciple of Qing Jing Peak,” said Shen Qingqiu slowly, like Shen Yuan was stupid. “Why would he not visit? Does he require a map?”

“He—Shizun hasn’t mentioned him visiting before.”

“Perhaps Shen Yuan would like for me to take a week of my time to fill a book filled with information that can be easily deduced. Would that be helpful, do you think?” Shen Qingqiu followed this by giving Shen Yuan a long, flat stare. Shen Yuan swallowed and bit back the urge to defend himself further, knowing that it wouldn’t bring him anything good. 

After a moment, Shen Qingqiu lost interest and returned his attention to flippantly sorting through the papers in front of him. Almost as an afterthought he said, “The boy should see Qing Jing. Bring him.”

Shen Yuan felt like he had been plunged into ice water. His mind immediately went into red alert, imagining every worst-case scenario and boy were there many. He said, “Of course, Shizun.”

══ ❀ ══

The thing was, Shen Yuan actually spent quite a bit of time with Luo Binghe. 

They typically started their time together with a game of Go, sometimes recreating and analyzing games from masters, sometimes quizzing each other on certain openings and traps, sometimes outright playing competitively. Then they would discuss whatever lesson “Shen Qingqiu” had assigned over calligraphy or painting. Luo Binghe had never been very keen on painting (though he was quite gifted) and Shen Yuan was honestly embarrassed to try to teach him the guqin so he kept putting it off. They would go over scholarly information for both, studying music and art theory, but those lessons didn’t warrant much conversation. Then their time would end with a lesson on martial arts and cultivation techniques. Sometimes this was sparing, sometimes this was guided meditations, sometimes this was trying to focus spiritual energy outside the body, sometimes this was going on long walks in silence, paying attention to the wind and the leaves. The point was, every visit took hours. 

When Luo Binghe had been pissed about Shen Yuan’s apparent sabotage of his and “Shen Qingqiu’s” ”relationship” these visits were very quick, with Luo Binghe running through all the lessons as fast as possible to uphold appearances while also making it clear to Shen Yuan that he was rather pissed off at him. Since “Shen Qingqiu’s” “”return”” and the subsequent healing of “”his”” and Luo Binghe’s “””””relationship,”””” Shen Yuan’s visits were once again lengthy affairs.

But that didn’t at all mean that nothing had changed. 

There was now a clear division in Luo Binghe’s attitude. While before he had treated Shen Yuan with at best a sort of shy friendship and at worst cool ambivalence, now he treated all their interactions like a contest. It was no longer the two of them learning together. It was now Luo Binghe needing to prove to Shen Qingqiu that he was better than Shen Yuan though the reports Shen Yuan was providing, which meant his superiority had to be obvious and inescapable. 

Shen Yuan tried to ignore Luo Binghe’s reason for all of this, which was hard to do when Luo Binghe brought it up about once a month. 

“I find it surprising that Shizun would have a student as inexperienced as Shen Yuan living in his personal quarters,” Luo Binghe mused one day while Shen Yuan unpacked the lunch he had prepared for himself. “I wonder how Shen Yuan contributes to Shizun’s household if he is such a poor cook, not disposed to essential chores, and weaker than even myself in fighting. Shizun should have someone in his house who can properly provide for him in all things.”

”Wow, itadakimasu to you too,” Shen Yuan mumbled as quietly as he could. 

Luo Binghe said, “Pardon?”

Another time they were sparring, moving in slowly and methodically through a few forms. Shen Yuan felt his weight dispersion slip up for just a moment—he had put a little too much spin in his kick and over-rotated going into his block—but before he could correct it, Luo Binghe’s eye flashed with eager malice. A split-second later, Shen Yuan was flat on his back, wincing and looking up a bright blue sky. 

Luo Binghe’s head popped into his field of vision. 

“Apologies, Shixiong, this Shidi thought Shen Shixiong would have blocked that kick for sure.”

Shen Yuan took a moment to ensure that he still had his voice before saying, “it’s fine, Binghe.”

“Perhaps Shizun prefers those who are easily knocked off their feet.”

This comment would have almost been encouraging if it hadn’t been said with such obvious self-satisfied sarcasm. Shen Yuan pulled himself to a sitting position. “What Shizun, ah, prefers is none of my concern.”

Luo Binghe made a face then crouched down so that they were more or less at the same level. “Not Shixiong’s concern,” he repeated slowly. “I wish Shixiong understood how unfair these words are. It pains this one to hear that Shixiong is unconcerned with Shizun’s preferences but still holds his unique attentions.”

“I live in his house and run some of his errands,” Shen Yuan said, “That does not mean he extends to me unique attention. Physical proximity does not equal emotional favor.”

“If Shixiong knew what this Luo Binghe would give for physical proximity.”

He sounded so miserable that Shen Yuan was almost amused. If only Luo Binghe knew how lucky he was to be so far away. As it were, Shen Yuan wasn’t amused. He was instead rather uncomfortable at the way the conversation had turned. He splayed his hands in front of him on the ground, dragging his fingers over the tips of the grass, pretending to take a sudden interest in the foliage to avoid eye contact. “Does Binghe truly think this shixiong harbors…the same…wishes… as Binghe? Surely, Binghe know that this shixiong is not in the same… ah, market. I am not Luo Binghe’s...competition in this… matter. Or any matter.”

Luo Binghe was silent for a long moment. Instead of answering he stood up, extending a hand to help Shen Yuan up as well. Shen Yuan took it without hesitation, allowing Binghe to pull him to his feet. His palm was warm against his own, firm but gentle, with soft calluses from a life of hard work. Shen Yuan let go quickly, not wanting to be indecent.

“I believe that Shen Yuan doesn’t see himself as my competition,” Luo Binghe admitted. “That doesn’t change the way I feel. If anything, it makes it worse.”

Shen Yuan thought about that. He supposed he understood. He shook his head slowly, nothing more to say. 

Luo Binghe pressed his lips together uncomfortably. Then, as if determined to make this conversation as awkward as possible, he added, “If I was Shizun, I would favor you too.”

Shen Yuan looked at him. Luo Binghe looked back.

Shen Yuan said, “What?” 

Luo Binghe’s mouth worked, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to say more. Then he said stiffly, “You’re similar, in a way.” 

“You’ve critiqued my many shortcomings yourself,” said Shen Yuan, somewhat astonished but also uncomfortable on nineteen different levels. “What is there for Shizun to favor?” 

Luo Binghe’s shoulders rose and fell in a boyish shrug. He looked down and kicked at a rock before gesturing vaguely in Shen Yuan’s direction. “You’re patient and thoughtful and kind. You’re a careful teacher.” 

“Oh.”

“And Shixiong isn’t hard to look at. His features are pleasing and hair and clothes are always perfect.”

Shen Yuan said, “Ah, that’s. Hm.”

Luo Binghe nodded, suddenly all business. “So this Luo Binghe will naturally work hard to prove his worth to Shizun. Should we begin again at the start of the exercise?” 

Shen Yuan turned half away, furious at the totally unnecessary heat in his face, pretending to be examining his practice sword for dirt. “Yes, the top of the exercise would be best. Luo Binghe can think about keeping the bend of his arm lifted just a little more like we discussed. This shixiong will correct his balance.”

“And this shidi won’t cause him to fall,” Luo Binghe added with a small, apologetic smile.

Shen Yuan rolled his shoulders and settled into the starting pose, readying his practice sword. “If Luo Shidi would refrain, that would be very much appreciated.”

══ ❀ ══

The invitation to Qing Jing loomed in Shen Yuan’s thoughts. With a direct order from Shen Qingqiu, he knew that he would have to bring Luo Binghe to Qing Jing Peak soon. But he didn’t know how to go about it. He was a bit worried that if Luo Binghe was on Qing Jing he would do something foolish, like try to read Shen Qingqiu poetry or try to cook for him. Or challenge Ming Fan to a duel. 

After about a week of thought, Shen Yuan decided on the safest course of action. 

°❀°

°❀°

Shen Yuan felt clammy when he handed the letter over to Luo Binghe the following day. He watched Luo Binghe accept the letter with his typical glowing enthusiasm, grow a little concerned at the brevity, then slowly be filled with wide-eyed wonder at the invitation. Shen Yuan partially expected Luo Binghe to start jumping up and down or something. He didn’t expect Luo Binghe to quickly reread the letter then to look at Shen Yuan with visible anxiety and say, “Tomorrow?”

Shen Yuan hesitated then nodded. “I thought Luo Binghe would be excited.”

“I am! It’s just—” Luo Binghe cut himself off and looked back at the letter, chewing on his bottom lip, his brow furrowed. 

Shen Yuan frowned. He wanted to press his thumb against the little wrinkle between Luo Binghe’s eyes to smooth it away. “What’s wrong?” 

“...Tomorrow.” Luo Binghe’s voice was small. “I can’t meet Shizun tomorrow, I have too much to do before then. I haven’t prepared at all. My robes will need to be mended and cleaned, I need to find a way to fix my hair, I need to find a way to cover the cuts on my hands from sparring. And I can’t go over there without a gift, I need to find a gift. A book? Is there a bookshop in town? If I had more time I could have gathered ingredients to cook something but the kitchens in Bai Zhan are stocked so poorly. What time tomorrow? Tomorrow morning? Oh,” Luo Binghe took a small step back and pressed the back of his hand to his forehead. Shen Yuan couldn’t help but be reminded of an overwhelmed housewife. “Shixiong, please excuse me from our lessons today, I need to start working immediately.”

Shen Yuan thought about just saying ‘sure, no problem, Binghe, as a matter of fact why don’t we reschedule for next year?’ but he knew that tomorrow would truly be the best day for this. Shen Qingqiu was visiting Yue Qingyuan today so he should be in high spirits tomorrow. Also tomorrow was the day that Shen Qingqiu had set aside to prepare budget requests for the following quarter, a task that usually took a lot of his time and seemed to be almost meditative for him. (That’s right, even mysterious and powerful cultivation sects led by powerful immortals hidden high in the mountains had to prepare budget requests. You think these sorts of things just run themselves? You think that if you get to a certain level of cultivation you don’t need to follow a budget? No. If anything, budgets become more important. Ah Ding stays busy for a reason.)

Shen Yuan reached into the bag he was carrying and pulled out a neatly rolled set of crisp white robes. He held them out. “Luo Binghe need not worry. You wear Bai Zhan robes while on Bai Zhan for appearances only. Naturally you would be provided the robes of a Qing Jing Peak disciple for this visit. These are yours, take them,” he added, when Luo Binghe didn’t immediately accept the white rolled cloth.

Luo Binghe slowly took the white robes out of Shen Yuan’s hands. He unrolled the outer robe and shook it out. It was brand new, white and spotless as a cloud, and firm with unstretched fibers and starch. As Luo Binghe held it in front of him in disbelief, Shen Yuan was satisfied to note that it was precisely the right size. 

After admiring the robe sufficiently, Luo Binghe carefully folded and rolled it back around the rest of his new uniform. He said, with quiet reverence, “I should never have doubted Shizun.”

Shen Yuan was so caught up his his own feeling of self-satisfaction, so proud of himself for finding the perfect uniform on such short notice, brand new and just the right size, that it was jarring to hear Luo Binghe attribute the gift to Shen Qingqiu. He almost corrected him but then he thought about how insecure that would sound so he just let it be. 

“Can…can shixiong help me try it on?”

Shen Yuan, with no real reason to say no, went back to the Bai Zhan dorms with one very tightly-wound Luo Binghe. Shen Yuan had never been inside the Bai Zhan dorms before, only seen glimpses from the outside. There were almost one or two disciples inside and none of them paid either of them any mind. Luo Binghe led them straight past the maze of bunk beds and pillow forts and what looked like a series of booby traps with no fanfare. When they were near the back of the building, he grabbed a small wooden stool and carried it the rest of the way, setting it down when they reached a set of tall mirrors in the back. He gestured to the stool and looked at Shen Yuan, mumbling something about how he was a guest. Shen Yuan dutifully sat, trying to look as accommodated as possible while on a quite shitty wooden stool. It was too small and it wobbled. 

Luo Binghe scampered off behind a bamboo privacy screen and emerged a few minutes later, tugging at his sleeves and pressing his new robes down with his hands to push out invisible creases. Shen Yuan looked him over, feeling a surge of warmth. This was it! This was the uniform that Luo Binghe had worn in PIDW! It looked so right on him, the crisp white almost glowing. Luo Binghe looked at Shen Yuan with nervous hope.

“Did I put everything on correctly?” He asked, spinning so that Shen Yuan could see it from all sides.

“It looks right from here,” Shen Yuan said. “Is everything the right size?”

Luo Binghe tugged at the sleeves which were perhaps a bit long, but hey, he wasn’t yet fifteen years old. He would grow into it. He nodded, slowly, like he hadn’t expected them to fit. “It is, Shixiong.”

Shen Yuan smiled encouragingly. After a moment, Luo Binghe returned his smile with a hesitant, nervous smile of his own. 

But then Luo Binghe’s eyes traveled curiously to the mirrors on the wall and his smile immediately fell. His expression became crestfallen and miserable, his mouth twisting into a pained grimace for just a moment before he spun away from the mirrors and buried his face in his hands. 

Shen Yuan was on his feet and by Luo Binghe’s side in a heartbeat. “Binghe! What’s come over you? Is something the matter?” While he spoke, his hands hovered nervously around Binghe’s arms and back, wanting to give him a comforting pat but unsure if he should touch him. 

Luo Binghe mumbled something into his hands.

“I can’t hear you.”

Luo Binghe raised his head. Shen Yuan felt like he had been hit by an electric shock to see that his eyes, warm and brown, had misted over with unshed tears.

“My hair is a mess,” lamented Luo Binghe. “It makes me look disheveled.” He spun back around to the mirror, stalking a few angry steps towards reflection like he was preparing to fight. “The robes are beautiful and graceful and clean but this hair ruins it.” As he spoke, he yanked out his ribbon and let his thick, frizzy locks tumble down around his shoulders. He grabbed a handful of tangled curls and tugged at it almost angrily. “It’s always like this, it’s out of control and wild and I can never get it to just behave.”

Shen Yuan was startled. “Binghe, your hair is fine.”

“It’s not fine. It’s hideous. Besides, Shizun deserves better than fine,” whined Luo Binghe miserably. He hadn’t stopped pulling on his hair. “I can’t meet Shizun looking like this. Can this be rescheduled? Yuan-ge, we can reschedule, right?”

Shen Yuan didn’t even have time to consider that little nickname. He walked up to Luo Binghe and said, “Hey. Hey, hey, hey, easy.” He placed his hand over the hand that was angered knotted in Binghe’s hair, gently working his fingers around Binghe’s to get him to let go. “There’s no need for all that. Luo Binghe has perfect hair. Curls are harder to maintain but that doesn’t make them bad. They’re just ask to be treated with a little extra care, that’s all.”

“But I don’t know how,” Luo Binghe admitted, his voice hushed to almost a whisper. Shen Yuan realized belatedly that he had been speaking softly too. Shen Yuan was standing so close that he heard Luo Binghe’s hard swallow. Luo Binghe let his hand be removed from his hair but he didn’t help. After a moment Binghe continued. “My mom—my mom used to do all that for me.” His voice was a mess of embarrassed and angry and lost and sad. 

Shen Yuan hesitated. Luo Binghe never spoke to anyone about his mother. Not in PIDW. Not now. Not even to Shen Qingqiu. He finally freed Binghe's hand and moved it gently back to his side, giving it a little squeeze before letting go. “Well,” he said, trying to sound like this wasn’t a big deal. “My sister had curls and I used to help her with her hair. I can try to help with yours, if that’s okay.”

He looked up and met Luo Binghe’s in the mirror. Luo Binghe’s expression was complicated but after a long moment he gave a quick nod. 

══ ❀ ══

Here’s how Luo Binghe arrived to Qing Jing Peak for the first time:

He was a few months away from his fifteenth birthday, slightly lanky on the wrong side of a growth spurt. His posture was perfect and stiff in his brand new uniform, his expression bright and filled with wonder and he walked through the edges of the bamboo forest between the bridge and the central buildings. 

And his hair was perfect; a crown of soft, dark ringlets fit for an emperor. 

Shen Yuan couldn’t help but admire it with pride. It had taken a few hours the day before: washing, treating with the right oils, brushing, scrunching, looking at his curl pattern, scrunching again, convincing Luo Binghe to lay in the sun with his hair plopped while it dried. Shen Yuan had sat next to him and read aloud from the book about music history that Luo Binghe was reading that week. 

When Luo Binghe had seen the result, he had gasped softly and leaned towards the mirror. 

He didn’t say anything for a long while but when he spoke Shen Yuan was mortified to hear that his voice was thick with emotion. “Thank you. It—I don’t have the words. I haven’t seen my hair like this since…” Luo Binghe trailed off then drew a ragged breath. “Thanking Shen Shixiong. Truly.”

Shen Yuan said, “Y-yeah, anytime.”

A few minutes later, Luo Binghe agreed with a shaky smile that he could go to Qing Jing Peak in the morning after all. 

Looking at him now, Shen Yuan couldn’t help but be reminded of the wide-eyed nervous excitement that his little sister had had on her first day of school. He kept asking questions about things that he already knew, like how many disciples there were, and if everyone would be be busy when they arrived, and if Shizun had mentioned anything about meeting them, and if Shizun would be available later maybe to have lunch together, and if they could see Shizun’s library, and if Shen Yuan would give Luo Binghe a tour of the bamboo house, and where was Shizun right now?

“How should I know where he is?” Shen Yuan asked with a light scowl. 

Luo Binghe shrugged and tugged at his new sleeves for the third time in five minutes. “Shen Yuan knows more about his schedule than I do. Do you suspect we might see him rather early in the visit or later in the day?” 

“I don’t know, Binghe. We might not see him at all.” Please let them not see Shen Qingqiu at all. 

“I’ll see him,” Luo Binghe insisted, lifting his chin a little and speaking with a sudden gravitas. “I’ll see him, and I’ll introduce myself. I’ll say, hello, this is Luo Binghe, Shizun’s most devoted disciple.”

“He knows what you look like,” Shen Yuan said with faint amusement despite himself. “He’s seen you before.” 

“Yes, four years ago. Have I not changed?” 

Shen Yuan looked at Luo Binghe quickly and looked away. “Maybe. But you still look like you.” 

Luo Binghe made a face. “When Shizun saw me I was a child.”

“Luo Binghe is still a child. I myself am a child and Luo Binghe is my junior.”

Luo Binghe opened his mouth to say something, but then decided against it. He kicked a rock.

The first half of the day passed without incident. In fact it was… nice. The other disciples were all excited to meet Luo Binghe, asking him many questions about Bai Zhan and his studies. Only one or two people made lighthearted jabs about how there was no way Luo Binghe had properly studied the guqin but Luo Binghe kindly deflected the comments and steered the conversation to other topics. 

Ming Fan seemed particularly interested in Luo Binghe, joining Shen Yuan in escorting him around the peak, to Shen Yuan’s chagrin. 

“Here is the girls’ cabin,” Ming Fan said with a wide, dramatic gesture to the girl’s dorms. “The internal layout matches the boys’, of course. Fun fact about the cabins, the flooring in the girl’s cabin is actually the original flooring from the bamboo house taken from when the bamboo underwent remodeling around seventy years ago.”

“Fascinating. And can we tour the bamboo house next?” Asked Binghe politely.

“No,” said Ming Fan and Shen Yuan at the same time.

“You can’t just show up at the bamboo house,” Ming Fan explained, dripping with self-importance. “You need an invitation.”

“I see,” said Luo Binghe, deflating a little. He shot Shen Yuan a sharp look as if to say I can’t believe you were downplaying the fact that you live in the fancy house that needs a special invitation just to visit and Shen Yuan looked back at him with a sharp look of his own that said you can’t blame me for the rules that have been governing Qing Jing Peak for seven hundred years, be serious.

With Ming Fan hijacking the tour, Shen Yuan was left to follow a few steps behind, unsure of his role. The other disciples certainly seemed more comfortable meeting Luo Binghe when it was MIng Fan introducing him. Shen Yuan sulked off to the side. It’s not like he was hoping that everyone would just suddenly be a lot nicer to him the moment he walked up with Binghe at his side but he also hadn’t necessarily wanted Luo Binghe to see the way that everyone pretty much ignored him. He wasn’t embarrassed, of course. He was just… aware that it made him look uncool. 

It was so unfair. Shen Yuan was cool. He could have friends. It wasn’t his fault he had been set up to be a social pariah by the timelessly wise and graceful immortal who was actually just a 20s-something bitch with a god complex who should be in fantasy prison for child abuse. Ugh. Being a teenager was so hard.

Luo Binghe joined a late-morning painting class taught by one of the older disciples. This was an effort to follow “Shen Qingqiu’s” instructions about taking the opportunity to learn, but there was no sign of the man himself. By the time lunch rolled around Luo Binghe was visibly tense, looking over his shoulder every fifteen seconds.

“I’ll tell you if I see him,” Shen Yuan mumbled to him while they stood in line for food. 

“He should have been here by now,” Luo Binghe hissed back. “This isn’t like him. What if something’s wrong?”

“This is exactly like him. And stop messing with your sleeves.” Shen Yuan batted gently at Luo Binghe’s hand to get him to stop tugging at his uniform. “It makes you look nervous.”

“I am nervous, Shixiong,” Luo Binghe snapped back, but after that he left his sleeves alone and kept his eyes forward.

After lunch Shen Yuan and Luo Binghe joined the balance and strength meditation that Ming Fan was leading in the clearing outside the kitchens. Shen Yuan couldn’t help but notice that many of his shimei and shijie were having extra trouble with their balancing and meditation. He felt a little smug about that. Surely one of these young girls would catch Luo Binghe’s attention. Ning Yingying was only a few people down from him, smiling and laughing with her friends. Shen Yuan couldn’t help but glance at Luo Binghe over and over, hoping to catch the moment where he notices her for the first time. It was going to be so emotionally gratifying. Would he blush? Would he challenge Ming Fan to a balance competition to prove his worthiness as a suitor? Maybe he would invite Ning Yingying to take a walk with him through the woods and their hands would brush together as they walked. Shen Yuan could see it now. Luo Binghe would chuckle knowingly and tuck Ning Yingying’s hair behind her ear before confidently taking her hand. 

Luo Binghe’s sharp intake of breath at his side snapped Shen Yuan out of his daydream. He glanced quickly at Luo Binghe and then followed his wide-eyed gaze with sudden dread. 

There was Shen Qingqiu. 

He was standing a ways off, just inside the tree-line. He seemed to have been standing there forever but he could have just arrived; the guy always had this air of permanence to him, like he was more of a cosmic truth than a person. 

With the novelty of Luo Binghe’s visit, almost half of all the Qing Jing Peak disciples had gathered for this guided meditation but even with the midsized group Shen Yuan could tell immediately that Shen Qingqiu was watching Binghe. Judging from the way Luo Binghe had gone almost completely still, he could tell as well. 

Awareness of Shen Qingqiu’s presence traveled through the group of his disciples in a ripple, each disciple making subtle corrections to their posture, stance, and breathing to show Shizun their very best. The most change could be seen in Ming Fan, who started to nitpick every tiny form issue he could find. 

Shen Qingqiu didn’t move. He just watched. Shen Yuan could practically feel the energy buzzing off of Binghe. He wanted to reach out and place a warning hand on Binghe’s shoulder to keep him from jumping up and running over. It was more disconcerting than Shen Yuan had expected to have both Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe in the same place. Not only was Shen Yuan filled with his old anxieties about Luo Binghe’s childhood abuse, he was now filled with the new anxieties of Luo Binghe’s wildly misplaced romantic fantasies. The fact that these realities coincided made Shen Yuan want to rip full chapters of his old beloved novel to shreds with his bare hands. The shimei, Binghe!! Why couldn’t you focus on the shimei!!!!

Shen Yuan was busy frantically brainstorming a disaster plan for every possible thing that Luo Binghe could do in the next thirty seconds but what actually happened was so much worse. 

Shen Qingqiu walked gracefully over to the group. Ming Fan noticed his arrival quickly, hype-focused on his presence as he was, and paused the group so everyone could bow in greeting. There was an eager chorus of Good afternoon, Shizun’s and Hello, Shizun’s. Luo Binghe bowed low and remained silent. 

“Shizun’s presence is timely as ever. This Head Disciple was just leading the group in a quick strength and meditation lesson,” Ming Fan said absolutely unnecessarily, his voice dripping with false modesty. “Since we have disciples of all levels of experience in the group these forms are a little basic but some still struggle. Does Shizun require my assistance wi—?”

“Shen Yuan.” 

Shen Qingqiu’s voice cut through the air as sharp as any sword. Shen Yuan felt the attention of the entire group swing uncomfortably in his direction. He swallowed, hyper-aware of Luo Binghe’s tense form at his side, then dipped his head in a second shallow bow to show he was listening. 

“Come with me.” 

Shen Yuan felt his whole body fill with embarrassed dread. Great. Fucking great. Wasn’t this perfect. Lacking any option, Shen Yuan stepped numbly away from the group and to Shen Qingqiu’s side. He could feel the group’s jealous resentment and Ming Fan’s angry humiliation. Worst of all, he could feel Luo Binghe’s eyes on him. Shen Yuan didn’t even want to imagine how Luo Binghe was feeling. 

Shen Qingqiu watched him approach coolly. Once he came to a stop, Shen Qingqiu glanced passively back at Ming Fan and ordered, “Carry on,” before turning and leaving, Shen Yuan following just behind. 

Shen Yuan kept his mouth shut until the moment the bamboo door closed behind him. He said, “If Ming Fan kills me one day everyone will know why.” 

Shen Qingqiu wasn’t even ruffled. “If you’re worried Ming Fan will kill you I would recommend you spend less time reading those ridiculous books and spend more time practicing with your sword.”

“That’s not my point.” 

“I understood your point, Shen Yuan.” Shen Qingqiu had moved to sit comfortably at his writing desk where his budget request lay half completed. “You feel as though this master has unfairly singled you out. You wish I would treat you just like all the other disciples. Oh, woe is the bullied heart poor Shen Yuan, who spends his youth frolicking in pools of unending opportunities and luxury few children can hardly dream of.” Shen Qingqiu had pitched his voice to be almost singsong, but then he snapped, “Grow up. You asked for this. You’re the one who inserted yourself into my life.”

Shen Yuan was still standing by the door, his jaw clenched. 

Shen Qingqiu didn’t seem to expect him to answer. He grabbed a blank sheet of parchment, dipped his pen in ink, and began to write a quick note. He maybe wrote ten words before he blew lightly on the ink to dry it, rolled the parchment and bound it with a ribbon. He held out the finished note to Shen Yuan. “Bring this to the sect leader.” 

Shen Yuan blinked, surprised out of much of his anger. “What, now?” It was days before the next letter was due. “But Luo Binghe is here. I can’t just leave.”

“Luo Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu drawled the name, like he was tasting it. “That boy has learned well. His cultivation is strong. Stronger than it should be, for a boy that age. Especially one in his circumstance. It seems Shen Yuan is quite the little teacher.”

Shen Yuan ducked his head, feigning humility to cover the fact that he had no idea what to say. It was jealousy of Luo Binghe’s natural talent that has instigated Shen Qingqiu’s abuse in PIDW so it was tempting fate to brag about Luo Binghe abilities, but they both knew Shen Qingqiu hadn’t contributed to Luo Binghe’s education in over a year. 

Shen Qingqiu continued. “The boy has grown as Liu Qingge predicted. Perhaps he truly is a rare talent. This master thinks it might be time to test his aptitude.”

Shen Yuan suddenly had the sensation of standing on a frozen lake and hearing the snap of ice cracking under his feet. “...His aptitude for what, Shizun?” 

Shen Qingqiu’s slow smile was sinister and cold. He stood and walked to where Shen Yuan still stood by the door, tapping the small scroll against his palm. He asked quietly, “Shen Yuan has grown fond of him, has he not?”

Shen Yuan didn’t answer. He felt like heavy ropes were constricting around his chest, growing tighter with every shallow inhale. 

Shen Qingqiu hummed. After a moment, he pressed the letter into Shen Yuan’s palm. “Go. Now. I will not ask again.”

Shen Yuan walked out of the bamboo house. He walked past the creek. He through the small clearing that led towards the rest of the buildings in the direction of the bridge. 

When he got about half way through the small bamboo forest that separated the bamboo house with the rest of the peak, Shen Yuan stopped walking. His breath was coming fast. He pushed a palm heavily into a large bamboo stalk, letting his bamboo help hold him up. He couldn’t catch his breath. He felt a tightness in his chest that he couldn’t name. His thoughts were simultaneously fuzzy and razor sharp. 

Shen Qingqiu was separating him from Luo Binghe. Shen Qingqiu had met Luo Binghe and felt his strength, and now he was getting Luo Binghe’s only ally to leave him alone on Qing Jing Peak. 

Shen Yuan’s pulse felt rabbit fast. He had two options laid out before him: both terrifying, both impossible to consider. But only one option protected Luo Binghe, so it wasn’t really a choice at all.

Shen Yuan found Luo Binghe still in the clearing of Ming Fan’s strength and balance meditation class. It seemed like the group had just been dismissed with many disciples loitering about, a few stretching, and few standing around chatting, a few going over some of the poses that they had struggled with the most during the lesson. Ming Fan noticed his arrival first. He scowled and crossed his arms, walking over to stand in his path. 

“Finished so quickly? What did Shizun need, someone to lick the horse shit off his shoes?”

“Ew, no, that’s disgusting,” Shen Yuan couldn’t help but say back, though much quieter than Ming Fan had spoken. MIng Fan seemed to want to be overheard but Shen Yuan didn’t have time for a scene. He didn’t know how long he would have before Shen Qingqiu decided to come looking for Binghe. “If you’d just excuse me—”

“Ning Yingying,” Ming Fan yelled to call her over, “Look who decided he wasn’t too good for us after all. Did Shizun finally realize what a shit student you are? It’s long overdue, to be honest.”

Shen Yuan tried to step around him but Ming Fan moved to cut him off. This put them almost chest to chest before Ming Fan shoved him back with a harsh push. Shen Yuan, a few inches shorter and a good bit lighter, staggered back a few steps. Ming Fan took advantage of catching him off balance by directing a quick kick to his side. Shen Yuan managed to not fall entirely on his ass by catching himself with one arm and kicking out a leg as a counterweight. The kick hadn’t hurt. Ming Fan didn’t want to fight; he just wanted to humiliate him. 

Anger roared to life inside Shen Yuan quicker than he was used to. He didn’t have time for this. His fist closed around some of the recently-fallen leaves that were hidden in this grass before he slowly once again rose to stand. 

They were getting the attention of the other disciples who were loitering in the clearing, a few curiously walking over closer.

“Pathetic,” Ming Fan laughed. “Honestly, I don’t even know why you’re here. Maybe they can use you on An Ding.” 

Luo Binghe, noticing the commotion, had jogged over to where they stood. He was now glancing uncomfortably between Shen Yuan and Ming Fan. “Shen Shixiong? What’s wrong?”

Ming Fan said, “Luo Binghe, this is a little game we play on Qing Jing Peak. It’s called No One Likes the Duck. The rules are that everyone goes in a circle and says something mean about the duck. It’s Shen Yuan’s turn to be the duck. Why doesn’t Luo Binghe go next?”  

“Is this really necessary, Shixiong?” Came Ning Yingying’s unsure voice.

“Necessary?” Ming Fan repeated with a little laugh, “Of course it’s necessary. It’s for our Shidi’s health. Shen Yuan thinks he’s better than us. He thinks he’s special. He thinks he’s invincible. It’s our duty as his peers to help him understand his place, which is in the dirt.” With that line that Ming Fan probably thought sounded cool, Ming Fan shifted one leg back and sprung into a jumping roundhouse kick. Shen Yuan admitted that it would have made Ming Fan look badass if he managed to land the kick and deliver the K.O. Too bad Shen Yuan still had some dignity. 

Shen Yuan rolled under the kick, springing back to his feet right as Ming Fan landed back on the ground. Shen Yuan focused his spiritual energy into the leaves in his fist, supercharging them as much as he could. Because Ming Fan had gone for a rotating jump, he landed facing away from Shen Yuan. Before he could turn around, Shen Yuan thrust his palm in Ming Fan’s direction, shooting the leaves forward at lightning speed. The leaves spun through the air like shuriken, faster than the eye could follow, before hitting Ming Fan’s back, slicing three paper-thin cuts into Ming Fan’s uniform. 

Ming Fan staggered forward before he spun around, glaring at Shen Yuan with anger and fear. “What did—did you just—!” 

The disciple behind Ming Fan gasped. Ming Fan pressed a hand against the lowest of the three cuts. When he brought his hand back, it was smeared with red. 

Shen Yuan used Razor Leaf. It’s super effective.

The disciples started to clamor amongst themselves, some running to Ming Fan’s side, some breaking off the whisper amongst themselves in hushed voices, shooting Shen Yuan nasty looks. Shen Yuan took the break in Ming Fan’s attention as an opportunity to grab Luo Binghe’s wrist. Binghe was looking around the group with confusion. 

“Binghe, we’re leaving.” Shen Yuan hissed, giving his wrist a little tug. “Now.” 

Luo Binghe followed him easily, the two of them breaking off the group and heading to the tree-line in the direction of the rainbow bridge. Shen Yuan set a fast pace but Luo Binghe didn’t comment or complain. 

“Shen Shixiong, what happened back there?” Luo Binghe asked as soon as they were outside of earshot. 

Shen Yuan didn’t feel much like talking but he cleared his throat and said, “Ming Fan was being a prick.”

Luo Binghe snorted like hhyeahduh. He looked over his shoulder towards the other disciples. “They all seemed surprised that you fought back.”

Shen Yuan gave a quick half shrug. He thought about not answering but then he figured Luo Binghe should know, so he said a little stiffly, “it’s against the rules to hurt someone above your rank.”

Luo Binghe shot him a confused look. “What? But he was instigating? Was Shen Yuan supposed to just sit there and take it?”

Shen Yuan said, “Yes.”

Luo Binghe shook his head. He looked almost angry. “No. No, never do that. That’s the worst rule I’ve ever heard. If someone is in a lower rank but can fight, shouldn’t they be able to defend themself? And if someone is in a lower rank and can’t fight to defend themself, why should someone in a higher rank be able to hurt them?”

Shen Yuan didn’t respond. He looked away. 

After a few minutes of walking in silence Luo Binghe asked, “So where are we going now?”

“Qiong Ding Peak.” 

Luo Binghe came to a sudden half. Shen Yuan took a few more steps then turned to face him, steeling himself for the argument. 

“Qiong Ding?” Luo Binghe repeated, stunned. “But that’s—that’ll take the rest of the day. We just got here, I haven’t even—”

“Shizun asked me to take you,” Shen Yuan said. He was kind of cheating, to use the one lie he knew would get Luo Binghe to immediately acquiesce, but the scene with Ming Fan had already taken longer than he would have liked and who knew how long they had before Shen Qingqiu realized what Shen Yuan had done? He needed to get Luo Binghe off this mountain.

“He… is that why he called you aside?” Luo Binghe asked, his brow furrowing, “To talk about…me? Why didn’t he just—?”

Satisfied that Luo Binghe would follow, albeit skeptically, Shen Yuan turned and marched on. “Come. We can talk while we walk.” 

Shen Yuan walked only a few steps before he heard the patter of feet as Luo Binghe jogged to catch up to him, falling into step beside him. 

After a long moment he spoke again, quiet and wistful, more of a prayer than a conversation, “Shizun is even more beautiful than I remembered.”

Shen Yuan wanted to scream.

Chapter Text

Shen Qingqiu was waiting for Shen Yuan when he got back to the bamboo house. It was only a few hours before sunset and the budgets had long-since been completed and sent to An Ding. Shen Yuan resisted the urge to try to close the door as quietly as he could and sneak his way into the house, knowing it would be a pointless effort. Instead, he closed the door normally. He slipped off his shoes normally. He walked normally into the main part of the house towards the side room. 

He was stopped by Shen Qingqiu’s soft voice saying, “Shen Yuan, come here.”

Shen Yuan stopped. He took a breath. Then he slowly walked over to the opposite side of the writing desk. Shen Qingqiu gestured for him to sit. Shen Yuan sat. 

A long silence stretched between them. It almost seemed that Shen Qingqiu had forgotten Shen Yuan was there, seemingly absorbed entirely in the calligraphy he was working on. His brush moved over the scroll, perfect stroke after perfect stroke.

“I’ve been thinking about what you’ve done,” Shen Qingqiu started. His voice was completely flat. “Deliberately misconstruing my instructions. Assaulting your Shixiong. Causing a scene. Taking advantage of your position to bring a disciple to Sect Leader Yue’s house uninvited. Shen Yuan has accomplished much today.”

Shen Yuan sat as still as possible, his head lowered. There was nothing he could say. He had unequivocally done all those things, minus causing a scene, but that felt like a deliberate set up so Shen Yuan let it pass. 

Shen Qingqiu set his brush down. “This master seems to recall a conversation we had many years ago where Shen Yuan insisted that his aim was to serve this master’s happiness. Can Shen Yuan explain how his actions today were designed to bring this master satisfaction?”

Shen Yuan replied quietly, “This one cannot.”

“Can Shen Yuan explain how his actions today served the continued equilibrium and peace of Qing Jing Peak?”

“This one cannot. This one’s actions were self-serving and deceitful.”

“You’re wrong.”

Shen Yuan looked up at that, confused. “Shizun?”

Shen Qingqiu was watching Shen Yuan with cold eyes. He shook his head slowly, almost as if he was disappointed. “Shen Yuan didn’t act to be self-serving. His sin is that his actions served the wrong person. Who did Shen Yuan serve today? This master will give a hint. It’s the same person who Shen Yuan has been penning exceptionally lengthy letters to for years.”

Shen Yuan didn’t know where this was going. Why did it matter why Shen Yuan did what he had done? He had broken the rules and intentionally sabotaged Shen Qingqiu’s plans. Disciples had been punished for far less. He swallowed. “This one’s actions were in service of Luo Binghe.”

Shen Qingqiu watched him for a long moment before he said, “Let this master give you some advice, boy. There is one thing more idiotic than putting someone else’s protection before your own and that is making it known to your enemies.” 

“Is Shizun this one’s enemy?”

“It appears Shen Yuan has already made that decision for himself.”

They looked at each other over the writing table in silence.

“Take your things and get out of my house,” said Shen Qingqiu quietly. “I will decide what to do with you in the morning.”

══ ❀ ══

Shen Yuan didn’t have much. It was too big of a risk to save any of Binghe’s letters, no matter how precious, and everything he needed he could borrow from the peak. Within minutes, he had packed everything he owned into a bag and left the side room of the bamboo looking like he had never been there. He started walking to the boy’s dorm before realizing that would mean having to see Ming Fan, an encounter which wouldn't end well, and even if it Ming Fan had decided to get some therapy and work through some stuff in the roughly three hours since Shen Yuan had last seen him it wouldn’t even matter, because after the most recent recruitment cycle there were no open bunks in the boy’s dorm. He thought briefly about going to the girl’s dorm but quickly shook that idea off, feeling guilty for even considering it. 

He went so far as to walk into the woodshed to see if he could find space to sleep there. He remembered that this was where Luo Binghe had slept for years in PIDW so he knew it was at least possible, but the woodshed was quickly ruled out as well. Too many bugs. Too much wood. Too much dust. He would get better rest sleeping in the middle of the forest. He wondered where Luo Binghe had slept when he had been here. He looked once again at the hooks high on the walls. He shuttered. Yeah. He was not sleeping here. Not with the knowledge of what could have befallen Luo Binghe inside these walls.

Luo Binghe. 

Shen Yuan hiked his bag further up his shoulder. He knew where he needed to go. 

══ ❀ ══

It took a while to find him. He wasn’t in any of his usual places and the few people Shen Yuan asked just shrugged and mumbled something about how Luo Binghe was a bit of a wildcard. Eventually he was pointed in the right direction by someone who had seen him walking towards the overlooks holding a book. 

He found him sitting under a tree. He was still wearing his Qing Jing Peak robes, reading a thin, unassuming book. He didn’t seem to be too engrossed in the words, pausing every few seconds to look out over the horizon. 

Shen Yuan took a moment to watch him from a distance. He wondered why he did so much for this guy. Since the moment he had arrived here, Shen Yuan had dedicated himself wholeheartedly to Luo Binghe. He had sacrificed his own comfort, safety, peace of mind, and energy to keep Binghe secure. And for what? He was the protagonist. He would be fine. He would always come out on top. 

Sensing someone’s eyes on him, Luo Binghe looked up. He was startled to see Shen Yuan, glancing around quickly to see if there was anyone else, but when he looked back at Shen Yuan he gave him a sweet little smile and waved him over. 

Shen Yuan felt the knot that had been in his stomach all day relax momentarily. Ah. This was why. 

He sat down next to Luo Binghe. Luo Binghe gave his bag a curious look but didn’t ask questions. He just said, “This is my favorite spot on Bai Zhan peak.”

Shen Yuan looked out at the view, cliffs, rivers, and low-hanging clouds spilled out before them. He saw the far-off glimmer of the rainbow bridge and realized that the peak in the distance partially obscured in the mist was Qing Jing. “It’s beautiful.” 

Luo Binghe nodded in agreement. “I come here when I need to think.” 

“And what is Luo Binghe thinking about today?”

Luo Binghe’s cheeks colored faintly pink. He closed his book and set it to the side. “Nothing that would interest Shen Shixiong.”

Shen Yuan felt suddenly fiercely glad that Luo Binghe was here, blushing and admiring a beautiful view in the shade of a tree, somewhere no one knew to find him. Luo Binghe had suffered so much in his past, but now he was here. He was safe. He was fifteen years old and he was reading. There was something about the moment that felt almost sacrosanct. 

“No, I’d like to know. Please.” Shen Yuan added the please when Luo Binghe gave him a look that was equal parts doubtful and nervous. 

Luo Binghe hesitated then said, “It’s a book Sect Leader Yue let me borrow.”

Shen Yuan felt his eyebrows rise in surprise. “I hadn’t realized Luo Binghe and Sect Leader Yue had conversed about literature.” They had only been at Yue Qingyuan’s house for barely a moment and Luo Binghe had barely spoken a word. He had mostly looked around the room with open fascination and inspected the titles on the nearest bookshelf. 

Luo Binghe shifted uncomfortably. After a heavy pause he admitted, “He doesn’t know that I’m borrowing it.” 

Shen Yuan gasped. “Luo Binghe."

“I know, I’m sorry!” Luo Binghe whined, “But it didn’t look like it was worth much and this one had a strong interest!”

Shen Yuan whacked Luo Binghe softly upside the side with absolutely no force at all. “Now you have to show me.” 

Luo Binghe did, his expression apologetic but excited. He handed the book to Shen Yuan. Shen Yuan blinked at the title; “Love: A Collection.” He opened it to a random page. Then he flipped through a few pages, as if expecting something different, but of course, every page was the same. It was a book full of romantic poems. Shen Yuan caught the phrase, ‘I delight in your heaving bosom.’ He closed the book.

“Oh,” he said, his voice a little weird. He tried to give the book back to Luo Binghe but Luo Binghe, completely unbothered, just reached over and leafed through the pages before letting the book open fully and tapping the title of one of the poems. 

“This disciple was reading this poem when Shen Yuan arrived,” he said, “But I’m not sure I understand it.”

Shen Yuan closed his eyes for a moment. This had been the worst, longest day ever. He didn’t want to sit here and listen to Luo Binghe gush about the man who would surely star in Shen Yuan’s nightmares tonight. But, sure, if Luo Binghe wanted to approach this like a lesson on literature then of course Shen Yuan would indulge him. 

He read the poem to himself. It wasn’t too long. When he reached the end of the poem he frowned and read it again. It was pretty straightforward. He shook his head and said, “What part is Luo Binghe struggling with?”

“Would Shen Shixiong tell me what he thinks first?”

Shen Yuan frowned. He read the poem again, slowly. There was something about it that needled him. He said slowly, “It seems like these two people are… very fond of each other.” 

“Yes, I should hope so, Shixiong, it is a love poem,” Luo Binghe teased gently. Shen Yuan tried to close the book with a snap but Luo Binghe slapped a hand down over the page, keeping it open. He was laughing quietly while he tried to apologize which ruined his apology but Shen Yuan immediately forgave him anyway. He opened the book again with a huff.

“I don’t know what Luo Binghe wants me to say,” Shen Yuan snapped. “The poem is about two people in love. It’s very simple.”

“Exactly,” said Luo Binghe, satisfied. 

Shen Yuan stared at him, not understanding. He closed the book and used it to deliver another gentle whack, this time to Luo Binghe’s arm. “A poem can’t be both very simple and confusing, Binghe. Communicate clearly.”

Luo Binghe smiled and took the book from Shen Yuan’s hands. “I didn’t say it was confusing, I said I didn’t understand. The poem is simple because love is simple, right? You feel it or you don’t.” 

Shen Yuan hesitated. He didn’t think he had much authority to speak on this but also it was clear that the Luo Binghe in this timeline already had a couple screws loose when it came to this topic so how much more damage could he do, really? “I don’t think that’s necessarily true.” Shen Yuan spoke slowly, picking his words carefully. “I think that love might be one of the most complicated things in the world. If it was simple, why would so many poets and artists still be trying to describe what it is?”

“Maybe love just inspires art.”

“Maybe,” Shen Yuan said with heavy doubt. He thought again about the couple in the poem. He frowned, realizing why the poem had bothered him. How was he supposed to know that the couple in the poem was in love? If that poem wasn’t in that collection it could just be about two friends. He held out his hand for the book. “May I read more?”

Luo Binghe ignored his hand and happily leaned back against the tree, flipping through the first few pages. “Let this shidi read his favorites aloud.” 

Sure. Whatever. As Luo Binghe began reading the first poem in a confident but gentle voice, Shen Yuan laid down in the grass, watching the way the light filtered through the leaves above them. 

If nothing else, the poems would be a good distraction from… everything. When Shen Yuan let his thoughts wander, they kept sliding back to Shen Qingqiu’s cold eyes and the looming threat of tomorrow. He would only be in more trouble for going back to Bai Zhan this evening, but Shen Yuan didn’t care. Shen Qingqiu had already made his choice. Anything Shen Yuan did now was only icing on the cake. 

After three of four poems, Shen Yuan started to interrupt with comments when he liked a particular phrase or when he thought something was bullshit. Luo Binghe sometimes agreed but often he did not. Shen Yuan was learning rather quickly that Luo Binghe had a very romantic idea of love. Secretly, Shen Yuan considered himself a romantic as well. He thought Luo Binghe’s idea of love was soul-achingly beautiful, it just wasn’t very practical. Still, part of Shen Yuan delighted to hear him talk about it. 

The sun was falling low in the sky when Luo Binghe finished a poem near the end of the collection. It was a rather nice poem though, once again, rather simple. Shen Yuan listened to Luo Binghe’s comforting voice read about the speaker’s dedication to shield his friend from the world and his delight in just being near her, how his heart filled with song at the sound of her voice, etc. etc. etc. 

When Luo Binghe reached the end of the poem Shen Yuan said, “That’s not a love poem.” 

Luo Binghe hummed thoughtfully. “Because there’s no kissing? Or touching?”

Shen Yuan blushed. “What? No, that’s not the point. The poem just isn’t about love. At least not that kind of love. That’s just about friends.”

Luo Binghe frowned. Shen Yuan watched his eyes move quickly back across the page as he reread it to himself. “Is this what friendship is? It feels a little…intimate.”

Shen Yuan rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that’s what best friends are. Like us, we’re best friends. That poem is basically the way I feel about Luo Binghe. That doesn’t mean I’m in love with you.”

The moment the words slipped out of his mouth, Shen Yuan regretted them. They sounded normal in his head. Outloud, they sounded… strange. 

Luo Binghe was staring at him with wide eyes. Shen Yuan closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at him, silently willing him to say something. 

“It’s normal,” Shen Yuan insisted, when Luo Binghe didn’t say anything for a long time. 

“Y–yeah, of course,” Luo Binghe said. His voice was thick. Shen Yuan opened his eyes. Luo Binghe was rereading the poem, his fingers curled tightly around the edges of the book. Shen Yuan was horrified to see that Luo Binghe’s eyes were glistening in the faint light of the low evening sun. 

Shen Yuan sat upright, suddenly very eager to be literally anywhere else. It was normal to feel that way about your best friends. Shen Yuan had never had a best friend before but he had watched Lord of the Rings. Binghe and him were like Sam and Frodo, i.e., they were very good bros that would sacrifice anything to keep the other safe. Why was Luo Binghe being so weird about this?

Shen Yuan grabbed his bag but before he could stand up Luo Binghe reached out and grabbed his sleeve. 

“Wait, Shixiong, please don’t leave. This—this is just very nice. This one is very happy to be your best friend.” 

“Yes, well.” Shen Yuan pushed away Luo Binghe’s hand and stood up anyways. He looked intently out over the horizon, as though he was trying to tell the time from the position of the sun even though this was an east-facing clift and the sky had already creeped into night. “It’s getting late. We should go.” 

“I will walk Shixiong to the bridge,” Luo Binghe offered, standing up as well. He was still blushing.

Shen Yuan paused. Haha. Shit. There was no not-awkward way to say this, after that thing he had already said about the poem. But it wasn’t like he had any other option; it was either this or sleeping in the forest. Shen Yuan squared his shoulders and said, “If Luo Shidi doesn't mind terribly, this Shixiong was wondering if there were any empty bunks on Bai Zhan.” 

Luo Binghe glanced again at Shen Yuan’s bag. Then, with the tack and understanding of someone who had spent a season of their life homeless, immediately said, “Of course, Shixiong, this one is sure arrangements can be easily made.”

══ ❀ ══

After showers and changing into his sleep robes, the two of them realized the issue. 

There were not any empty beds on Bai Zhan. 

Correction: there were no unclaimed beds on Bai Zhan that weren’t 1) elaborately decorated or mutilated, 2) part of some sort of precarious-looking construction project, or 3) piled high with some random disciple’s rock collection/field guides/survival equipment/training gear/whateverthefuck. It seemed that the moment a disciple moved out, their bed and space was conquered for the pleasure of whoever saw it first. 

Luo Binghe was clearly upset by the lack of options. “Shen Shixiong will take my bed,” he declared almost frantically. “This disciples doesn’t even like to use it. I sleep better on the floor anyways.”

“Don’t be silly. This one will be happy to sleep on the floor. Luo Shidi is doing this one a great service to allow me a clear and safe place to rest.”

“No no, Shen Shixiong will take the bed. Luo Binghe will take the floor.”

Shen Yuan glared. “This one’s manners aren’t so poor that he would force someone to sleep on the floor a mere step away from their own bed and it is almost insulting that Luo Binghe would even suggest it.”

Luo Binghe glanced at the bed and tilted his head, thoughtfully. “It’s a decent-sized bed. I suppose we could—” 

Shen Yuan suddenly had flashbacks to the books on his sister’s bookshelf. He knew exactly where this was going. He felt a flush of heat from head to toe and announced loudly, “This one will take the floor.” 

Luo Binghe frowned. “Shixiong is being very unkind, to not allow this one the honor of being accommodating to his guest.”

Shen Yuan, who had grabbed a handful of fresh linens before they had started to hunt down a free bed, unceremoniously dropped all the linens on the floor by Luo Binghe’s bed. “Oh no,” he said, “I accidentally dropped all my linens. Oh well, I might as well sleep on the floor now, since they’re already dirty.”

He sat down and started to arrange the blankets comfortably before lying down on the mat. Luo Binghe was watching him with visible distress. Shen Yuan found a comfortable position and pointedly closed his eyes.

“Good night, Binghe,” he said. 

Luo Binghe hadn’t moved. 

Luo Binghe’s bed was pushed into one of the most quiet corners, a mostly-hidden little nook that must be inhabited by the peak’s introverted populace because it heavily featured sheets hung from wires, creating a slowly-wafting maze that helped to dampen the sound from the rest of the dorm. Around them, Shen Yuan could hear the sounds of slippered steps and familiar conversation. It wasn’t loud enough to drown out Luo Binghe’s sigh of discontent and the sound of him crawling into his bed. “Good night, Shen Shixiong,” he said unhappily. 

Shen Yuan focused on the sounds around him, the muted buzz of conversation and the unmistakably sounds of life and activity. He couldn’t help but relax. It just felt so nice to be around people, to hear their laughter and know that even if they didn’t necessarily like him they didn’t actively dislike him either. 

A few minutes later, the sound died down to a quiet murmur. A few minutes later, the last of the candles were extinguished and the dorms were doused in black. 

Shen Yuan drifted off to sleep. 

══ ❀ ══

…Only to wake to the feeling of movement close by. 

Shen Yuan groggily pulled himself to his elbows, trying to figure out what was going on. He could feel fabric rustling right beside him and the vague shape of something but he could barely see anything in the darkness. 

“Wha—?” Shen Yuan said, still bleary from sleep.

“Shh,” came a very quiet and familiar voice from very close by. “It’s me.” 

“Binghe?” Shen Yuan whispered in the dark, still completely confused. “What are…”

“This one is having trouble sleeping,” Binghe whispered, sounding apologetic, “Does Shixiong mind if this one joins him on the floor?” 

Shen Yuan, his thoughts still muddy, immediately said, “It’s no trouble, please do,” but then his critical thinking kicked in and he said, “This is so stupid one of us should take the bed.”

“Shixiong is more than welcome.”

But Shen Yuan was already comfortable. He grunted something in vague agreement before and flopping back against his mat. There was a pause, then Luo Binghe wiggled closer, his bent knees brushing Shen Yuan's thigh. 

“Apologies, Shixiong. It’s a little cold,” Binghe whispered. 

Shen Yuan grunted quietly, already drifting off back to sleep. He was just losing his grip on consciousness when—

“Shixiong?” 

Shen Yuan whispered/grunted, “What.”

“I’m happy I’m your best friend.” 

“That’s… good, Binghe.”

Shen Yuan was about to go to sleep again when Luo Binghe whispered, “Shixiong?”

Shen Yuan rolled over to face Luo Binghe. His eyes adjusted as much as they were going to but he could still barely see a thing but judging from the faint outline of shadow he could see Binghe was probably close. “What.” His voice was thick with sleep. 

There wasn’t an immediate answer. 

“Binghe, what ?” Shen Yuan asked again, trying to make his whisper as annoyed as possible. He suddenly remembered that Luo Binghe’s half-demon ancestry gave him basically Darkvision. Shen Yuan couldn’t see Luo Binghe but Luo Binghe could see him. The thought was a little disorienting.

There was a sudden warmth at Shen Yuan’s cheek. Shen Yuan jumped, suddenly a little more awake. The warmth that was Luo Binghe’s hand pulled away for a second then returned, moving softly down the curve of his jaw this time. 

Shen Yuan batted the hand away feeling disoriented now for more than one reason. Instead of letting himself be pushed aside, Luo Binghe grabbed Shen Yuan’s hand and, almost as an afterthought, threaded their fingers together. 

Shen Yuan was now a lot more awake. 

“Uh,” he whispered. And then he didn’t know what to say next so he just followed it up with, “Ummm.”

Binghe hadn’t really moved Shen Yuan’s hand from where he had reached up to push Binghe’s hand off his face so Shen Yuan’s arm was twisted up at an odd angle, their entwined hands hovering a few centimeters above Shen Yuan’s ear. It felt a little uncomfortable but Shen Yuan didn’t dare move. 

“Do best friends hold hands?” Luo Binghe asked, his voice hushed in the dark.

Shen Yuan thought about the scene in The Lord of the Rings when Sam runs up to Frodo and holds his hand. He held it with so much tenderness, much like Binghe was holding his hand now. “Uh, yeah, that’s fine.” His voice was now a whisper for a very different reason. He wished he could see Luo Binghe’s expression. 

Luo Binghe didn’t let go. His thumb began rubbing soft, uncertain patterns against Shen Yuan’s skin. Luo Binghe’s hands, so familiar to Shen Yuan, felt entirely new in the dark.

“I’ve been thinking about those poems, Yuan-ge,” Binghe admitted in a quiet voice. “So many of them mentioned touch.”

Luo Binghe relaxed his hold on Shen Yuan’s hand just enough for him to press his thumb gently into the tendons of Shen Yuan’s wrist. He held it there for a moment before running his thumb past Shen Yuan’s wrist and into the center of his palm. The movements felt almost scientific. An alien discovering a human hand. It felt weird but not necessarily bad.

Shen Yuan felt something in his throat go uncomfortable warm. He had forgotten how it felt to be touched with so much kindness. 

After a moment that couldn’t have been longer than a minute but which felt to Shen Yuan like a lifetime, Luo Binghe lowered their hands into the space between them, resting on the linens. He didn’t seem eager to let go.

“Luo Binghe is too young to be thinking about touching people romantically,” Shen Yuan said, trying to sound stern and failing completely. His mouth felt like it was full of cotton. Luo Binghe was still slowly moving his thumb against the side of Shen Yuan’s hand. 

“But this is okay because I’m Shixiong’s best friend,” Luo Binghe whispered back. “Right?”

Shen Yuan nodded faintly. 

Luo Binghe gave Shen Yuan’s hand a small squeeze. Shen Yuan tentatively gave a little squeeze back. He heard Luo Binghe’s soft, quiet laughter, barley a sound at all. Shen Yuan wasn’t sure why he was laughing but he smiled back nevertheless.

Another long moment passed between them. The moment was so long that Shen Yuan thought that Luo Binghe had probably fallen asleep. Shen Yuan, for his part, was wide awake. He was laying perfectly still with his eyes closed, listening to the quiet sound of Luo Binghe’s measured breathing. 

When Luo Binghe spoke again it was clear he wasn’t sure if Shen Yuan was asleep or not either because his words were so quiet Shen Yuan barely heard them. But he did hear, and his eyes snapped open. 

“This Binghe was wondering if best friends ever kiss.”

Shen Yuan’s first instinct was to pull his hand away but when he gave it a tug Luo Binghe didn’t let go.

“No,” he said, a little too loudly. Then he lowered his voice back to a whisper and said, “No, Binghe, friends don’t do that. People only do that when they’re in a relationship. Besides, I only kiss girls.”

Luo Binghe said, “Shen Yuan has been in a relationship with a girl before? When was this?” 

“What? No. I just mean, you know. Theoretically.” 

“Oh,” Luo Binghe thought about that. “What if we kiss for practice then?”

Practice? Luo Binghe was nearly fifteen and he had never kissed anyone. At this age in PIDW, Luo Binghe had already had two love interests and had kissed both of them. Would Luo Binghe be stunted romantically if he didn’t practice?

Shen Yuan struggled with that idea for a moment before he said, “We can’t kiss but we can pretend to for practice, if it will help.” 

“Pretend? What does that mean?”

Before he could lose his nerve, Shen Yuan pushed himself up to his elbows. He pulled his hand out of Luo Binghe’s hold and reached towards the shadow of Luo Binghe. He found soft, warm skin. Very warm. Luo Binghe’s neck. Shen Yuan slid his hand back and up and buried his hand in that beautiful hair. He whispered, “Let this shixiong show you. Just…don’t move.” 

Because his hand was against his scalp, Shen Yuan felt Luo Binghe’s quick nod. Satisfied, Shen Yuan took a breath to steady himself. He whispered, “When you kiss someone, it’s good to touch their hair or their face like this. You can also put a hand on their shoulder or their waists. Whatever feels natural.” Shen Yuan felt a tentative hand touch his shoulder. Shen Yuan nodded. “Good. That’s good, Binghe, just don’t squeeze too hard. You want to be gentle, especially if it’s a girl.”

“Why?” Luo Binghe asked.

Shen Yuan gave Luo Binghe’s hair a little tug. He heard Luo Binghe’s quick, quiet inhale but pretended that he didn’t. “Don’t ask questions, okay? I’m just telling you how it is. It’s okay if you move your hands a little but don’t move them too fast or too much.”

Luo Binghe’s hand moved slowly from Shen Yuan’s shoulder to press against the side of his neck. “Your heart is going really fast,” he said, sounding surprised. 

Shen Yuan rolled his shoulder to push Luo Binghe’s hand away, hissing, “Yeah, I’m nervous okay? I’ve never done this either.” 

“Sorry, sorry.” Luo Binghe whispered. Around them was the soft, muted sounds of people sleeping: quiet breathing, the occasional shifting of sheets.“Shen Shixiong is doing good, this shidi is grateful for this most informative lesson.” Luo Binghe put his hand back on Shen Yuan’s shoulder. “What’s next?”

Shen Yuan breathed to steady himself. “Next you need to make sure the person wants to kiss you. Usually you can tell by the way they’re looking at you but, um, I can’t see you right now, so it’s okay to ask.”

“How can you tell if someone wants to kiss you by looking at them?” Luo Binghe asked, his voice suddenly tense.

“They might look at your mouth. Blushing is always a good sign. Sometimes they’ll stutter a lot. If they’re looking at you really intensely when they’re close like this then that's almost always a sign.” Shen Yuan’s face was on fire. He couldn’t believe the words he was saying. “If you’re unsure it’s always good to ask.” 

Luo Binghe whispered, “Shen Shixiong, do you want to kiss me?”

Shen Yuan nodded once. “Good Binghe, like that. Or you can ask for permission, to show that you intend to take initiative. Once you know, you need to get close, like you’re hugging.” 

Shen Yuan didn’t move.

“This Shidi is ready for the next step, Shixiong.” Luo Binghe encouraged quietly.

Shen Yuan took a deep breath. This was fine. This was like wrestling. Besides, friends could cuddle. What was a little snuggling between two bros? He slowly pushed himself closer to Luo Binghe. Luo Binghe didn’t move, just as Shen Yuan had instructed, although Shen Yuan was kind of kicking himself from doing that. Luo Binghe had always been so much better at hugs. 

Shen Yuan wiggled closer until his supporting elbow was by Luo Binghe’s ear, propping himself up above Luo Binghe’s head. He kept his lower half a respectful distance away. They were still barely touching but Shen Yuan could feel his warmth. He was hyper-aware of every place they were touching. The space where Shen Yuan’s stomach was pressed against Luo Binghe’s ribs felt like a revelation. He ran the hand in Binghe’s hair up until he was more or less supporting the back of Binghe’s head before lowering himself oh-so-slowly until he felt the brush of Luo Binghe’s nose against his own. 

Then he stopped. 

They stayed like that for a moment, just feeling each other’s presence. Shen Yuan could feel Binghe’s breath against his lips. 

Shen Yuan whispered, “Then you kiss.”

Luo Binghe’s breath was slowly growing faster. The hand on Shen Yuan’s shoulder slid down until it was pressed above Shen Yuan’s heart. Shen Yuan felt Luo Binghe’s other hand reach up and cup his cheek. Shen Yuan pulled back a little in surprise. He was about to say something encouraging or mention how Luo Binghe could use a hand on the side of the face like that to tilt his partner’s face into a more comfortable position. He never got the chance. Before Shen Yuan could fully process what was happening, Luo Binghe slid his fingers so that they were pressed gently against Shen Yuan’s mouth. 

Shen Yuan felt his breath leave him in a surprised whoosh. 

They both froze. Shen Yuan couldn’t tell if Luo Binghe had frozen in reaction to Shen Yuan freezing or if his own actions were just as surprising to himself as they were to Shen Yuan. They didn’t move for a handful of panted breaths.

Shen Yuan pulled back, moving to get some much-needed space between them, but Luo Binghe’s arms snaked around his shoulders and pulled Shen Yuan down into a brief, crushing hug, Shen Yuan’s face squashed against his shoulder.

“Okay, okay, yes,” Shen Yuan babbled, pushing himself free. “That’s enough, alright.”

“Thanking Shixiong for a most valuable lesson,” Luo Binghe whispered happily. Shen Yuan couldn’t stop his smile. He knew reading all those books would come in handy. Shen Yuan reached down and placed a hand down on top of Luo Binghe’s head. 

“Binghe is welcome,” Shen Yuan said, a little awkward but mostly unbearably fond. He gave the top of Binghe’s head a few soft pats. “Now, good night. We both need our rest.”

“Yes, good night, Shixiong.” Luo Binghe whispered back, content. 

Shen Yuan laid back down. After a few minutes, he heard the change in Luo Binghe’s breathing.

Shen Yuan lay awake for a long, long time. 

══ ❀ ══

Shen Yuan woke to being stepped on. 

“Oh, sorry,” said someone who didn’t sound sorry at all. 

Shen Yuan rubbed his eyes and sat up, wincing at the soreness in his leg where the Bai Zhan disciple had stepped on him. She had started messing with some items in a chest at the foot of the nearest bed, unpacking a few things and setting them out. 

“No, it’s fine,” Shen Yuan said. That was what he got from sleeping on the floor. He looked around, wondering where Binghe had slipped off to. 

“I think that’s for you, by the way,” said the random disciple absentmindedly, flicking her hand at something to Shen Yuan’s side. “Luo Binghe left it when he stepped out.”

Shen Yuan looked down. There was a note, folded and arranged so that it stood up like a placecard. The outside said, “To Shen Yuan.” He caught himself smiling at the little as he imagined Binge writing the note and then carefully placing the letter somewhere that he would see it. He was always so diligent. 

His heart warmed when another thought occurred to him. Had Luo Binghe ever written a note to him ? Not to “Shen Qingqiu” but to him, to Shen Yuan. Shen Yuan didn’t think he had. He thrilled at the way his name looked in Luo Binghe’s round and precise characters.

Then he picked up the note, unfolded it, and began to read. 

His good mood died within seconds. 

By the time he reached the end of the letter, Shen Yuan was on his feet. He felt like he had swallowed fire. He grabbed the sleeve of the disciple who had stepped on him. “You saw him leave? How long ago was that?”

The disciple reeled back at his intensity. “Uh? Luo Binghe? I don’t know dude, early. Few hours ago.” 

Shen Yuan dressed in record time. He raced to the rainbow bridge, his heart hammering in his chest. It was a long way to run, from Bai Zhan to Qing Jing Peak, and Shen Yuan tried to pace himself for the length of the journey, but his adrenaline was pumping, his mind was showing him every possible horror that could be occurring at that very moment, and his feet kept pushing him faster and faster. 

Please get there in time, He prayed. Please let him be okay.

══ ❀ ══

When Shen Yuan arrived at Qing Jing Peak the peak was quiet. He sprinted to the bamboo house and flung open the door but there was no one inside. He went to the kitchens and the common house and both dorms but Luo Binghe was nowhere to be found. He also couldn’t find Ming Fan or any of the older disciples who operated in Ming Fan’s little circle. Not only that, but no one he asked knew where they were either. It was as if almost ten people had just disappeared. 

Shen Yuan started to panic. If Shen Qingqiu wasn't on the peak then where was he? Where was Luo Binghe? 

Shen Yuan closed his eyes and breathed hard, trying to slow his pounding heart. He had to keep it together. Such a large group wouldn’t all leave the peak at once without setting up barriers or guards. It was too risky. They were here. Odds are, they were close. But where? Shen Yuan tried to imagine that he was Shen Qingqiu. He pulled forward all the information he had on him, trying to remember if there was any way he could have accessed a portal or if there was any place on the peak that he considered private besides the bamboo house, like a particular section of the woods or a hidden enclave in the rocks. Shen Qingqiu liked to conduct his business in places that were easy to control; small, indoor areas, like the house, or—

Shen Yuan’s eyes snapped open. 

The woodshed. 

══ ❀ ══

Luo Binghe had been sick with nerves.

An invitation to Qing Jing Peak to have breakfast with Shizun! It was a dream, but also there was something about it that felt inevitable. Luo Binghe knew this would happen. He knew it. He knew that if he just worked hard enough and looked presentable that Shen Qingqiu’s obvious affections would surface sooner or later. He could feel his love and careful affections in every letter. Feelings that strong could only stay in the shadows for so long. It had only been a matter of time. 

Did Luo Binghe think Shizun was in love with him? No. Not yet. He was too young. But did Luo Binghe think Shizun loved him? There wasn’t a doubt in his mind. 

He had found it strange that instead of going to the bamboo house Ming Fan had directed him to a small, old shack a few minutes’ walk away from the rest of the camp. There were piles of wood stacked around the outside of the building. Luo Binghe had asked what they were doing here. Ming Fan had smiled and told him to wait inside. 

He didn’t need to wait long. 

Shen Qingqiu walked into the shed slowly. The moment he entered the room the entire building was transformed into something ethereal. Luo Binghe’s breath caught and his heart pounded quicker than before. 

Luo Binghe dropped to his knees in a low bow. “Shizun. This humble disciple is very pleased to finally be speaking to his master in person.”

He waited for Shen Qingqiu to say something kind. He waited for him to give a warm laugh and place a hand on his head. He waited for him to tell Binghe how well he had done these last few years and how proud he was of all his growth. 

He heard instead the barely-perceptible sound of footfalls on the aged wooden floor. He listened to the steps and followed their path. Shen Qingqiu was walking in a slow circle around Luo Binghe, examining him from all sides. Luo Binghe couldn’t help but be reminded of a tiger. He swallowed hard, squeezing his eyes shut, not daring to move. He was so nervous. He was more nervous than he thought he would be. 

“Liu Qingge was convinced that Luo Binghe would become a strong cultivator,” Shen Qingqiu said quietly. “He was so sure of it, even though Luo Binghe had no talent or education and started cultivating later than recommended. This master had reason to test his theory. Luo Binghe had been provided with little guidance and hardly any resources. And still here Luo Binghe is, years later, brimming with power that by all means should be beyond someone of his age and level of study.” Shen Qingqiu paused. “So tell me, Luo Binghe, how did he know? What did he see?” 

Luo Binghe was both delighted with the flattery and wildly confused by the question. It was clear that Shen Qingqiu expected an answer. He slowly pulled himself up to sit back on his heels so he wouldn’t be speaking into the floor, keeping his gaze down and his head lowered. “Shizun, this one couldn’t say.”

Shen Qingqiu was quiet for a long minute. “Pity.” 

There was something about his voice that didn’t seem right. Luo Binghe had been trying to figure out why since he had first heard him speak the day before. He thought maybe it had something to do with his inflection. It wasn’t bad. It just wasn’t what Luo Binghe had expected. 

Shen Qingqiu completed his slow turn around the room and came to a halt directly in front of Luo Binghe. The young boy clenched his hands into fists where they were resting on the tops of his thighs to keep them from shaking. His sleeves were too long but he thought of Shen Yuan and resisted the urge to tug at them. 

“Isn’t it funny,” said Shen Qingqiu, although his voice was completely devoid of humor. “That the one who has received the smallest amount of my guidance has managed to become the greatest of my disciples.”

“Shizun doesn’t give himself enough credit.” Luo Binghe insisted fervently.

“Perhaps the boy gives him too much.”

“No,” Binghe insisted, his voice growing more confident. “This disciple owes everything to Shizun. His instruction, guidance, support, insight, and care has made this disciple who he is today.”

Shen Qingqiu gave a low laugh although the sound was hollow and sharp. He took a step closer and bent down to examine Luo Binghe closer. Luo Binghe couldn’t help but steal a glance. Shen Qingqiu’s expression was amused and curious. Luo Binghe’s chest grew tight at having such untouchable elegance just an arm’s reach away. 

Shen Qingqiu said, “Is that so, my dearest Luo Binghe?”

And that… no, this wasn’t right. How many nights had Luo Binghe dreamed of hearing those words in person? Why did it now sound so…awful?

Luo Binghe’s head jerked up at the sudden feeling of rapid movement to his left and right and the low whisper of something moving quickly through the air. Almost before he had fully raised his head, two ropes had snapped themselves around his wrists, one on each arm. Startled, he instinctively tried to yank his arms away but the ropes held firm. He glanced up and saw that the ropes were anchored to heavy-looking hooks near the ceiling.

Before he could make any sense of it, Shen Qingqiu was stepping back, speaking more strongly than he had since entering the room, reclaiming Luo Binghe’s full attention instantly. “Let me tell you something about your Shizun, boy. He does not exist.” 

Luo Binghe didn’t understand. “That isn’t possible. He’s here. This disciple received a letter from him twice a week. This disciple knows his heart. How can you say he does not exist?”

“Does Luo Binghe still not understand? Focus. It’s all very simple. He and I are not one. This master has not written Luo Binghe a letter in many years. I dumped that chore the moment I was confident Liu Qinggq wasn’t going to do any digging.” 

Luo Binghe felt like the walls of reality were crumbling down around him. He squeezed his eyes closed, as if that would make the words go away. “That can’t be. Shen Yuan—”

“Yes, Shen Yuan,” Shen Qingqiu interrupted, his voice growing stronger still. “What a unique individual. So foolish. So willing to go to such extremes to avoid a single confrontation. So willing to lie to make people happy. Because he’s so… nice. Isn’t he nice? Doesn’t he help Luo Binghe with anything he asks? Is Luo Binghe getting enough food? Is Luo Binghe staying safe?”

Luo Binghe was breathing hard. “He’s good to me.”

“Child, he has played you for a fool.”

“If Master Shen isn’t this one’s Shizun then how does he know about such things?”

The ropes at Luo Binghe’s hands gave a violent tug. Luo Binghe yelped as the ropes were pulled taut and his arms were pulled up and to the sides. He scrambled to his feet to try to provide some relief to his screaming shoulders, which helped some, but the ropes adjusted to stay secure. 

“You forget who you are speaking to,” Shen Qingqiu sneered. “This master has one of the best minds for strategy in the world. You think he can’t outwit two idiot children? Shen Yuan is very private with his letters at the house. He thinks he’s so careful. But he goes to Yue Qingyuan’s house before he delivers a letter to Bai Zhan every single time. Yue Qingyuan would cut out his own heart for me if I asked, you think he’s above a little espionage? He invites him in, serves him tea, and by the time Shen Yuan has left Yuan Qingyuan’s talisman has copied every single word.”

Luo Binghe’s heart stopped. “He… Shen Yuan, he…writes the letters?”

Shen Qingqiu rolled his eyes. “Gods, boy. Keep up. I thought you were supposed to be smart.”

Shen Yuan had lied to him. Shen Yuan knew how he felt and he still lied. Shen Yuan had been reading the letters that Luo Binghe had been writing. This last detail, somehow, lingered in his mind the most. He burned.

Luo Binghe was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he didn’t realize the two ropes curling around his ankles until they were already secure. “What is this room?” He asked, because it suddenly seemed very important to know. “What is Master Shen doing?”

“Waiting,” said Shen Qingqiu, illusively. “Which reminds me; those ropes are controlled by this master’s qi. If Luo Binghe attempts to escape or fight, this master will know your intentions immediately and will react accordingly. If this master might offer advice, Luo Binghe is better off not trying.” 

Luo Binghe nodded faintly. The idea hadn’t crossed his mind. 

══ ❀ ══

Shen Yuan stood outside the door of the woodshed. He knew he was in the right place; he could hear the shuffling of feet and could feel the thrum of energy that meant multiple cultivators were just inside. He steeled himself for what he might find inside. 

The door flung open. Shen Yuan jumped and took a half step back. 

“You’ve made your superiors wait,” Shen Qingqiu chastised. “Come inside now. Stop dallying.”

Shen Yuan followed Shen Qingqiu into the shed. Standing in a circle around the circumference of the room were the missing disciples, including Ming Fan and all his closest allies. Shen Yuan saw other people as well, including some younger disciples and many who had been kind to him. They were all holding long stalks of dried bamboo. Some were smirking at Shen Yuan and passing their bamboo from hand to hand. Others were looking down, not meeting his eyes. 

He didn’t care about any of them. Luo Binghe was tied in the middle of the room, his wrist and ankles bound with ropes. 

Shen Yuan tried to run to him. He had barely taken a step before Shen Qingqiu moved in a flash, his hand cutting through the air and connecting hard to the soft tissue just below Shen Yuan’s ribs, directly over his liver. The sharp impact sent a flash of white hot pain through Shen Yuan’s body before condensing into an awful, throbbing agony. Shen Yuan dropped to his knees hard, clutching his side. He heard Luo Binghe call, “Shixiong!” in alarm. 

Shen Yuan looked up and found Luo Binghe watching him with anxiety. Shen Yuan tried to look him over as best as he could from a distance, checking for any sign of injury. He relaxed the smallest amount to see that he seemed to be untouched save for where the rope was digging harshly into his skin. 

While he was watching, something in Luo Binghe’s expression seemed to shift. Shen Yuan couldn’t tell what it was. 

“Who here knows what we are doing here this morning?” Shen Qingqiu asked the room mildly, like he hadn’t just delivered untold damage to Shen Yuan’s liver. 

The room was silent for a few seconds until Ming Fan said, “Shizun needs to deliver punishment for wrong behavior.”

Shen Qingqiu hummed, neither approval or disapproval. He looked slowly around the room, inviting other answers. 

“Is this a demonstration of some sort?” One of the younger disciples asked. “Something related to Luo Shidi’s experience on Bai Zhan?”

Shen Qingqiu looked down at Shen Yuan and gave his leg a small kick with his toe. “Why doesn’t Shen Yuan tell everyone what we’re doing here?” 

Shen Yuan opened his mouth but couldn’t find a single word to say. He knew why they were there, of course. He knew the real reason. But Shen Qingqiu would never invite him to say the real reason. But… Shen Yuan found he no longer cared. He had basically already been informally kicked off Qing Jing Peak. He already had one foot out the door, how much more did he really have to lose? 

He hated this man. He truly hated him. He found him pathetic and disgusting and vile. It would be worth a little more pain to make him suffer. 

Shen Yuan gave a small, bitter smile, and said clearly, “Shen Qingqiu is jealous of Luo Binghe. He knows that Luo Binghe could one day surpass him if he cared to try.”

It was like all the air had been sucked out of the room. Shen Qingqiu hissed, very quietly, “What did you just say?”

Shen Yuan’s pulse was racing. He could be killed for this. Fine. It wasn’t like he hadn’t died before. He looked directly at Luo Binghe and refused to take the words back. Luo Binghe’s eyes were wide.

“This disciple believes Master Shen heard correctly. We are here because Shen Qingqiu is an insecure, paranoid, and immature bully.”

No one dared to move. Shen Yuan didn’t look away from Luo Binghe. 

He knew, on some level, that this could backfire horrifically on Luo Binghe. But also he prayed that if he just said everything clearly that he might push Shen Qingqiu into a corner. Shen Yuan would never be welcome on Qing Jing Peak again, sure, but maybe if all these disciples heard the truth then it would prevent Shen Qingqiu from acting on his emotions, lest he gave them reason to believe that Shen Yuan’s accusations had been true. 

“You idiot,” Shen Qingqiu said, almost fondly. And then he threw his head back and laughed. The sound was loud and almost erratic. It was unlike any sound Shen Yuan had ever heard him make before, wild and uncontrolled. Shen Yuan’s skin erupted in tiny pinpricks of unease. He glanced at Luo Binghe and found that he was tense as well, pulling with new intensity on his binds. After a moment, Shen Qingqiu settled down. Laughter still lingered in his voice when he said, “Fuck, I hate children.” 

Then Shen Qingqiu spun around, aimed his palm at Luo Binghe, in an explosion of light and energy, shot a bolt of qi straight through Luo Binghe’s chest. 

Woodshed filled with the sound of the disciples yelling, the loud bang as the qi punched a hole through the back of the woodshed, but it was all drowned out with Shen Yuan scream. 

Shen Qingqiu spun back around to face Shen Yuan. “ This is why we’re here,” Shen Qingqiu said, his voice dripping in acid. “We are here because of you and your impertinence. Shen Yuan was told this yesterday, and instead of trying to repent he decided to leave the peak entirely. You have chosen to place this boy’s comfort and your loyalty to him over your masters orders and your loyalty to your peak. Now you will watch him suffer twice what he would have. This is justice.”

“Binghe,” Shen Yuan’s voice was so rough it was almost a sob. He was unable to think about anything but the small stain that was slowly growing larger on Luo Binghe’s abdomen, a red so dark it almost looked black, even against his fresh white robes. Luo Binghe healed faster than normal humans, Shen Yuan reminded himself, feverish. Shen Qingqiu hadn’t hit anything vital. He would be okay. He would live. Shen Yuan had to go to him now .

“Now, you all have your sticks,” Shen Qingqiu turned back to address the rest of the room, his voice once again level and perfectly controlled. “Who will go first?” 

There was an uncomfortable silence in the room. Shen Qingqiu looked around, waiting for someone to volunteer. When no one did, he opened his arms, as if inviting someone to come forward. “No one? What if I say this; the disciple who inflicts the least damage on this little beast will be next.” 

“No,” Shen Yuan whispered. He thought he might pass out. He scrambled to his feet, pushing through the pain. He said again, louder, “No, you’re angry at me,  not him. Don’t do this.”

“It’s okay,” Luo Binghe said, quietly. His eyes were red and the bloodstain on his uniform had grown to an alarming size. Every few seconds his arms shivered like he was cold, despite the almost uncomfortably warm air. “Yuan-ge, I’ll be okay. Don’t watch.”

“No,” said Shen Yuan, louder. His throat was tight. “Binghe, shut up, you need to take better care of yourself, you’re always—” He was getting off-topic. “Binghe, listen. It was me, okay? The letters, the food, the—everything. It was all me. I know I lied, and I’m sorry, I’m so—but you need to know now, because I can’t let you think that this man ever cared for you. He never cared. So don’t let him do this.”

“Shixiong is crying,” Luo Binghe said, his voice almost a whisper. 

Shen Yuan tasted salt and realized that Luo Binghe was right. He couldn’t help but snap in almost panicked exasperation, “Of course this one is crying, Binghe, you’re my—you’re–we’re—I’m—you're my best friend.”

The words didn’t seem to be enough to explain everything he felt, the all-encompassing devotion and adoration, but it was the best he had. He hoped Luo Binghe would understand. He always seemed to understand.

“Fine, I’ll just pick one of you,” Shen Qingqiu snapped. “Ming Fan.” 

Ming Fan slowly stepped forward. He was glancing between Shen Yuan and Luo Binghe with vague concern. 

Luo Binghe said softly, “You're my best friend too.”

Shen Qingqiu said, “Do it.”

Ming Fan slowly raised his stick. 

Luo Binghe was looking at Shen Yuan with an expression that seemed… happy. He closed his eyes. 

The woodshed exploded in light. 

Shen Yuan stumbled backward into the nearby wall, pushed by a shockwave of power. His eyes slammed closed instinctively, his hands raising to protect his head even though there was nothing in the air but burning, red light. As soon as he had the capacity to be aware of it, Shen Yuan was filled with horror at the dark, twisting, malicious intent rolling off the energy unendingly. It wasn’t like any qi he had ever felt. It was awful. It was wrong. It was—

Demonic. 

The fear in Shen Yuan’s heart gave way to bone-crushing relief. 

When the light faded, Ming Fan was laid out on the floor like a discarded doll, unconscious. The other disciples seemed to have been flung backwards, same as Shen Yuan, blinking and recoiling from awful energy that had just enveloped them.

The blast had knocked loose every spec of dust in the old woodshed. When the light faded, a thick haze still hung in the air, decades of tiny particles suddenly shaken free from the ceiling, rafters, and walls. A few disciples coughed. 

Luo Binghe stood hunched in the middle of the room. His body was shaking violently head to toe. The ropes that were holding him glowed with pulsing red light. The light played off the haze in the air, casting the entire woodshed in a faint fiery glow. Luo Binghe wrapped his hands around the ropes. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, the ropes slipped free from their hooks almost at once. Instead of falling to the floor, they swam through the air towards Luo Binghe. As he lowered his arms, the ropes danced around him in slow, arcing spirals.

Above Luo Binghe’s bloodshot, intense eyes, a red demon mark glowed.

Shen Yuan pushed himself off the wall he had been shoved up against and ran straight into Luo Binghe’s arms. 

Luo Binghe gave a quiet oof when Shen Yuan slammed into him, pulling him into the tightest hug. Shen Yuan immediately let go, practically bouncing off of him. “Sorry! Sorry, Luo Binghe’s hurt!” His hands fluttered uselessly just above the center of the bloodstain on Luo Binghe’s uniform. “How bad is it? Wait, sorry, stupid question, you were stabbed, I meant—” 

Luo Binghe grabbed one of Shen Yuan’s hands and pressed it hard over the wound. Shen Yuan tried to pull back his hand, not wanting to be the cause of an infection or further discomfort, then realized what Luo Binghe was trying to tell him. The skin under his hand was solid and whole. The blood on his uniform had already started to dry. Shen Yuan exhaled noisily. Then he crushed Luo Binghe with another too-tight hug. 

“This one is sorry he lied,” he said, his voice shaking. “This one is sorry. I understand if Luo Binghe wants nothing to do with me.”

“Shixiong didn’t lie,” Luo Binghe said quietly. “Not about anything that matters.”

Shen Yuan didn’t know what he meant by that, but before he could ask he froze at the sound of Xiu Ya being pulled from its scabbard. 

“Demon,” said Shen Qingqiu. He sounded almost pleased. A gasp went up around the room as the disciples realized what had been said and what it meant. Panicked, confused whispers filled the air. 

Shen Yuan turned to face the Shen Qingqiu. He tried to push Luo Binghe behind him, but Luo Binghe’s ropes grabbed Shen Yuan and pulled him gently aside, stepping to place himself between Shen Yuan and Shen Qingqiu. 

“Shen Qingqiu has said many unfair things about Shen Yuan and his character,” Luo Binghe said gravely. “This Luo Binghe challenges Shen Qingqiu to a battle for Shen Shixiong honor.” 

Shen Yuan hit Luo Binghe’s arm not too lightly. “Binghe,” he hissed, “Don’t be foolish, he’s still a Peak Lord, he would beat Luo Binghe soundly.” 

Luo Binghe looked confused. “But Shixiong said that this Luo Binghe could surpass him.” 

“Yeah, someday, not when you’re a teenager, five minutes after breaking your seal, do you even know what—oh, my god.” Shen Yuan pushed Luo Binghe’s ropes off him and stepped forward again. “Master Shen, we wish to leave.”

The dust was settling in the room. While everything and everyone was now covered in a fine layer of dirt, Shen Qingqiu’s hair and clothes were as untouched and perfect as always. He tilted his head. “Hm. No.”

Well. Worth a shot. Shen Yuan said, “This one understands that Qing Jing Peak has an obligation to dispose of demons that have caused harm to humans. Luo Binghe has a pure heart and a noble spirit. His heritage does not change this.”

“Regardless,” said Shen Qingqiu, raising Xiu Ya, “This master will find great pleasure in killing you both”

“Shen Jiu,” said Shen Yuan. “Recall how you have treated me. Do you believe I would have never prepared any collateral for myself?”

Shen Qingqiu was quiet for a long moment. He said, “You’re lying.” 

He was. “Perhaps. Or perhaps there are letters sealed with my qi that I’ve sent to various people containing information that this one doubts Shen Jiu would like to be known. If this one dies the seals will break.”

“Don’t call me that,” Shen Qingqiu said, his voice very quiet. 

“Apologies. This one knows that name carried bad memories. But,” Shen Yuan continued, as if just remembering something, “Shen Qingqiu is a difficult name as well, is it not? What a tragic last character. At least Master Shen can rest easy under certain pavilions when those memories are too much. Not that they are all bad. Doesn’t Master Shen have at least seven good memories? This one knows those seven memories are Master Shen’s most cherished.” 

Shen Qingqiu’s appeared completely unaffected, but his chest was rising and falling fast. “Fine. Maybe Shen Yuan has letters around the city. That doesn’t stop me from killing the demon.” 

Shen Yuan snorted. “Luo Binghe dies and this one will kill himself before Master Shen has time to pull out his sword.”

Shen Qingqiu was glaring daggers. His breath came quicker. 

“We only wish to leave,” Shen Yuan repeated reasonably. “This one will accept public banishment from the sect. Who would care about the rumors spread by a disavowed disciple? But a current disciple? One who has lived in his master’s home for years? Doesn’t Shen Qingqiu think people would listen? How they would gossip.” 

Shen Qingqiu’s sword lowered slowly. After a long, long moment, he gave a barely perceptible nod. 

Shen Yuan looked at Luo Binghe. The ropes he had been controlling flopped uselessly to the ground, slipping off his wrists and ankles like oil on water. Luo Binge took his hand.

They walked out of the woodshed. 

══ ❀ ══

They went first to the dorms to steal Luo Binghe a new set of robes. He threw the bloody one on Ming Fan’s bed. Then they ran to the bridge, whooping and laughing at nothing. Shen Yuan knew they were both high on adrenaline and that they would crash soon. Shen Yuan’s side still throbbed horribly. Luo Binghe hadn’t stopped shaking. 

But they needed to get off the mountain. 

There was a moment when they hesitated at the top of the heavenly stairs, the official boundary between Cang Qiong Mountain Sect and the outside world. Shen Yuan stopped at the top of the stairs. Luo Binghe, who was still holding his hand, followed his lead, understanding immediately. 

“We’ll find somewhere else,” Luo Binghe reassured him quietly. “We can find a cottage somewhere, surrounded with bamboo and a little creek for Shixiong to read by.” 

Shen Yuan laughed gently. “These things need money, Binghe. We can’t just steal a house. We’ll need to get jobs. It’s going to be difficult.” 

“Difficult? No. Well, maybe, sometimes,” said Binghe, smiling shyly and pushing Shen Yuan’s hair off his shoulder. “But we’ll do it together.”

Shen Yuan frowned then. “Luo Binghe, the letters. This one understands if—” 

“I know. Shen Qingqiu explained everything,” Luo Binghe gave Shen Yuan’s hand a gentle squeeze.

Shen Yuan pulled his hand away, not feeling like he deserved Luo Binghe’s forgiveness. “But I lied for so long, and about something so important. How can Luo Binghe bear it?”

Luo Binghe hesitated then said slowly. “Shen Yuan was in a difficult position.”

“But…Luo Binghe’s… feelings… they were manipulated into feeling very strongly about someone who doesn’t exist.”

"But Shen Yuan does exist."

"Me? Luo Binghe's always wanted Shen Qingqiu. Or, the fake Shen Qingqiu that this one created."

Luo Binghe nodded then asked, "Did Shen Yuan ever pretend to care about Luo Binghe when he did not?"

Shen Yuan reeled back, offended. "Of course not. This shixiong loves Binghe very much."

Luo Binghe smiled. "Then that's all there is."

"But—" Shen Yuan was frustrated. He didn't understand. The Shen Qingqiu that Shen Yuan has created was older and suave and mature and wise and successful. Shen Yuan was just... him. He wasn't what Luo Binghe wanted. 

Luo Binghe picked up on his discomfort. “Does Shen Yuan think his Binghe ever cared about the name on the letter?” Asked Luo Binghe, sounding almost hurt. “This one cared deeply about the one writing the letters. Shen Yuan wrote the letters. It’s as simple as that. It was never about the name. It was about what came before it.”

Shen Yuan thought about that. Luo Binghe placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. Shen Yuan looked down at it in surprise then up at Luo Binghe. “I…I just… I don’t know what that means. Luo Binghe feels—is Luo Binghe saying he…the poems—” 

“Shixiong is stuttering,” observed Luo Binghe, thoughtfully. He stepped closer. 

Shen Yuan blushed and looked away, humiliated. “Okay, fine, Luo Binghe’s forgives his shixiong. Good. That’s good. We need to—” 

Luo Binghe placed a hand on Shen Yuan’s cheek, turned his head, and kissed him.

They left Cang Qiong Mountain Sect hand in hand. Neither one looked back.