Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter 1 - (You are here!)

     Feel free to leave suggestions for Cultivate-related extras in the comments on this chapter. (No promises, but you never know!)

Chapter 2 - Epilogue: Mu Qingfang

     Mu Qingfang's POV of life after the events of the main story, with a special focus on spirit plants.

Chapter 3 - Epilogue: Luo Binghe

     Luo Binghe's POV of his life after the events of the main story. Su Xiyan makes good on one of the promises she made to her son.

Chapter 4 - Epilogue: Shen Qingqiu

     Shen Qingqiu's POV of his life after the events of the main story. Mentions of the ladies at the Warm Red Pavilion. Tao Ying wakes up and presents his heart for the taking.

Chapter 5 - Epilogue: Shen Yuan

     Shen Yuan's POV of his life after the events of the main story... Actually, okay, mostly it's a relatively spicy scene where Shen Yuan finally asks Liu Qingge if he can draw him in the nude. Liu Qingge naturally complies.

Chapter Text

Mu Qingfang looked up from his writing to smile. 

Through the open windows of his pavilion he saw the waxleaf dogs chasing each other through the wildflower field behind his house, their thick, waxy leaves flopping like the heavy fur of the sheep dogs they most closely resembled. Though the layers almost constantly fell over their eyes, they never seemed to be concerned with whether or not they could see.

Mu Qingfang been asked to watch the lively spirit plants while Shen Yuan and Liu Qingge had gone on their wedding tour. When the newlyweds had returned in the middle of summer, he realized that he hadn’t been so much expected to babysit the spirit plants, but they’d actually hoped he would adopt the pair and refuse to give them back. 

He did not mind. They were happy creatures and like any dog craved far more attention than Shen Yuan and Liu Qingge could really give them considering how many other creatures — and people — vied for it. That Shen Yuan and Liu Qingge realized this and tried to find the creatures a good home just showed that they sincerely cared about their well-being. They could have easily left their care to the disciples that littered Taoren Mountain. Though even now there were still few disciples who could reach the top of the mountain where their home stood, the waxleaf dogs could have been moved to the Disciple’s Terrace instead.

No — Mu Qingfang was happy to take them in. The waxleaf dogs fit well here on Qian Cao Peak due to their nature (he was still studying the plants they were made up of and if they might have hidden properties), and made good companions when he left the mountain on business or small adventures. 

They proved to be worth more than their weight in gold when they’d showed they understood the difference between a maid entering to clean his room at the inn, and a thief attempting to leave with his things. They had scared the thief half to death by springing out of the pot of soil by the door and latching onto him until Mu Qingfang rose from his dinner in the tavern below and discovered what the commotion was about. (So much screaming over gentle creatures that did not even break the man’s skin — bah!)

The incident made for an excellent story and was a scenario he was using to begin writing his own novel in his free time — tentatively called, ‘The Unlikely Adventures of the Wandering Apothecary’. 

(The monthly book club meetings at the Dragon’s Terrace at Taoren Mountain was the impetus of this new hobby. After hearing him recount the event, Liu-Shixiong’s little sister had encouraged him very sincerely to write it down, promising to show him her own writing if he tried. He would hate to disappoint her. Tianlang-jun had been equally enthusiastic about him writing it down as a story, though he’d got so excited about his own ideas that they had challenged him to write his own. Whether or not the whimsical demon actually would was another thing entirely.)

Watching the waxleaf dogs play, Mu Qingfang mused that he really needed to decide on names for them. He struggled to decide between naming them after literary characters he enjoyed, or giving them more ‘proper’ names. It was a much harder decision than it seemed, ah! It was fine not to name all of the spirit plants that made it to the mountain, but these two deserved names.

Perhaps he would put it to Yue Qingyuan. Zhangmen-Shixiong was sensible enough that he would probably have good ideas. He was also the most supportive of his tendency to accept any random spirit plant Shen Yuan came up with and invited him to have.

The other peak lords (and his disciples) humored him whenever he brought home another of Shen Yuan’s strange plant-creatures, though some of them seemed concerned that it would get out of hand with so many unique creatures being allowed to mostly roam free. 

It had been business as usual at first, of course:  the unusually large but still relatively normal Goat Belly Roots and the Clarity Sprouts, which had grown in greater numbers, but other than being skittish around sudden movements, they mostly kept to themselves. While the Monster’s Bane had such a strong, disturbing effect when used and as such had been preserved, but not cultivated further, it was still nothing more than a simple, but powerful, magical plant at the end of the day.

Then it was the waxleaf dogs — an easy adjustment as they were easy to understand and wanted only water (spirit water, if possible), a bit of sunlight and good soil, and affection to be happy. Sometimes he thought people forgot that they weren’t actually spirit beasts.

The next import had been several of the octopus-shrub’s offspring. Qian Cao Peak had discovered that each octopus-shrub decided what sort of herbs it preferred to grow (including very rare or thought to be extinct varieties!) and adjusted its soil and light conditions accordingly. Or perhaps it was the other way around — Mu Qingfang and his interested disciples were still attempting to determine which provoked the other. Though there were only three of these octopus-shrubs now, he had the idea they would grow in population quickly if left unchecked. Not necessarily a troublesome thought as they strongly preferred potted soil to even garden beds. They also viciously hunted weeds and could be trained to leave certain plants alone. It was very convenient and the resulting reduced weeding duties in the greenhouses made them nearly as popular with his disciples as the waxleaf dogs.

His most recent acquisition was a potted Dragon’s Wisdom flower, which was slowly growing into a miniature dragon like the first one. Once Shen Yuan had realized this and saw how maliciously the eldest Dragon’s Wisdom eyed its potential sibling, he’d asked Mu Qingfang to keep it safe at Qian Cao Peak. Without Qing Mushu’s presence and the overall higher natural qi at Taoren Mountain, it seemed to be taking longer to grow, but Mu Qingfang was patient. There was nothing not to like about a pretty flower that occasionally turned and yawned in its sleep, even if it never did anything else.

This past year had been full of many changes at Cang Qiong Mountain, each happening one after the other — it was not a bad thing that the Dragon’s Wisdom would take longer to bring its own changes.

As expected, the miasma monsters continued to rise on the nights of the full moon. 

This was hardly a concern as without the presence of the Miasma Lord or another mind to guide them, the attacks were generally much easier to meet — it was a task largely left to the disciples as a form of training, senior disciples monitoring the situation to step in if necessary. There was no intelligence guiding their formation either, so the resulting miasma monsters ended up an issue only through unfortunate luck or if communities disregarded the strictures and tried to seal off miasma pools rather than reporting them for the sects to deal with. As the Crystal Cave Bee clan warned and the texts in Lingxiao Sect’s library echoed, it might stop the miasma attacks for a few months, but eventually the miasma would condense itself into a more dangerous form and break free.

The peach trees born from Tao Ying’s seeds were valuable allies in this. Their ability to draw miasma monsters in particular (and other creatures besides) made things much safer, as they would generally ignore anything else. Mu Qingfang quite enjoyed the one on his own peak, though it was such a popular spot for disciples to read at night that it was rare that he had the opportunity to do the same.

And that was a change too — the disciples. 

Shen Yuan’s intentions for Taoren Mountain to be a place to send disciples from all of the peaks to train and learn from each other as they built bonds and friendships was approved — and ended up being very successful. 

Of course Bai Zhan always had a number of disciples there for the obvious reason of their peak lord spending the majority of his time at Taoren Mountain. This was not a mark against Shen Yuan — because of how close the two mountains were, Liu Qingge actually spent more time at the sect than before as he was no longer haring off to go hunt monsters and train. 

Similarly Shen Qingqiu spent at least a few days a month visiting with his brother, so he had no issue bringing a number of his disciples with him. In time, they scheduled visits even without their master’s presence. Mu Qingfang’s own disciples were the third most common presence on the mountain — and only because their duties meant they could not visit in larger numbers. An Ding Peak spent enough time repairing and studying the structures that had been pulled through time (or built on a whim by Qing Mushu) that even though they were usually too busy to stay for extended periods, their yellow and teal robes were always present.

The other peaks were still adjusting to the idea, but those who could ascend high enough on Taoren Mountain to stay at the Disciple’s Terrace tended to be enthusiastic enough about the experience that word spread and more disciples became interested in scheduling their own stay. 

An Ding Peak banding together to build a new terrace — called the ‘Visitor’s Terrace’ — so that those who struggled to ascend could still visit and train earned the peak far more respect than the overworked disciples generally received (though they frankly deserved more of than they ever got).

This atmosphere was encouraged by the noticeable changes in several of the peak lords, of course.

They were no longer the self-destructive cats that they had been a year ago — or at least, it was expressed in milder ways. Though there were still the occasional squabbles, the tense undercurrent of mistrust between them had faded away to nearly nothing. They were truly becoming the sect that Yue Qingyuan had promised them.

Mu Qingfang would suffer far more than three nights of monster attacks a month and a few hours each week researching easier methods to cleanse miasma pools for that alone. The new friendships, exciting new research, a plethora of new spirit plants to study, and even a new hobby were all an unexpected bonus.

If only he could keep his students from nearly poisoning each other nearly twice a week, Mu Qingfang would have very little to complain about other than a lack of time to do everything he’d like.

Ah — well. One couldn’t have everything.

Chapter Text

Luo Binghe knew quite well that one could not have everything they wanted in life.

Even if his early life had not already shown that clearly, the memories that lurked in his mind from his previous two lives showed that even when he was able to have everything he reached out his hand to take, something important would always be missing.

Not that he had any real complaints about his life now. 

He had his shizun and shifu, as well as his Shen-Shibo and other peak lords he coaxed extra lessons from. 

Binghe had friends from many peaks — Liu Mingyan, Ning Yingying, Dong Mei and the twins — even Ming Fan had been much more friendly once it was clear that he would not be joining Qing Jing Peak after all, even if sometimes they both seemed to take pleasure in being a thorn in the other’s side. He wasn’t sure if Zheng Yang could be considered a ‘friend’ but what else could you call them? In a few years, the sword spirit said they would choose to return to being ‘just’ a sword, but until Binghe was ready to undergo the Sword Trial so that he could officially claim a spirit sword, Zheng Yang wished to become more powerful, “So there is never a reason to claim Xin Mo in this life.” Binghe’s reassurances he did not have any aspirations to claim Xin Mo were patiently ignored. The trauma must run deep, but in time Binghe was sure he would convince Zheng Yang of this.

The little dragon flower (who had so far rejected every name he’d proposed to it) continued to be both a clever, affectionate pet and a troublemaker. Finding ways to keep it occupied so that it did not fall to its more destructive behaviors when it decided it was bored was challenging. Thankfully it enjoyed weiqi puzzles. (He had to be very careful that Shen-Shibo did not realize his pet was doing his homework for him or else he was sure he would suffer for it twice over — first from Shen-Shibo and then from the little dragon if he stopped producing weiqi puzzles to solve!)

Binghe even had his blood family, though that was… complicated.

They were each of them relatively easy to understand, and if he didn’t think too hard about their blood connection to each other, he found them each admirable and interesting in their own ways. (It had taken him awhile to understand what was ‘admirable’ about Tianlang-jun, but eventually he paid attention to how the demon behaved with his wife and nephew and saw him through their eyes and it began to make sense.) 

When he did remember they were related by blood and he should address them differently, there was an awkwardness to their interactions as they each tried to make themselves likable without crossing some invisible line of what each side would tolerate. Binghe had trouble committing fully to calling them ‘mother’, ‘father’, and ‘cousin’. They tried to make him feel welcome without forcing the issue. 

He saw at least one of them a month, as Tianlang-jun never missed a meeting of the book club and Zhuzhi-lang nearly always came with him. Su Xiyan he saw less often, but this was mainly due to her pregnancy and her new duties as Palace Master rather than any disinterest in her part. She’d made several offers for him to come to Huan Hua Palace to visit and stay as long as he liked. Binghe had declined until Shizun had encouraged him to go and spend time with his family when the baby was born.

His little sister had been born in early summer, and Binghe still didn’t know how to feel about that. A sibling was not anything his other selves had ever had, and so the protective feeling that rose within him when she’d gripped his finger and stared solemnly into his eyes was… a completely unique experience. 

‘Bing-ge’ had not even felt this when he’d held his own children. Binghe could not understand how and feared Xin Mo’s soul-consuming powers even more.

So for him to feel like something was ‘missing’ in his life made him feel ungrateful. Perhaps it was even what made him hold back on accepting his family as ‘family’.

He was resigned that this would be the heart demon that plagued him all of his life and he would spend much of his time in seclusion in contemplation of how to defeat it.

At least…

At least until one day, roughly a year after they had first met, Su Xiyan came to Taoren Mountain, her daughter in a bundle across her chest and a familiar woman at her side.

No introductions needed to be made. Though she seemed a little younger and much healthier than she’d been in her final months, she was clearly his mother as she’d been before she’d started to become sick. 

They clung to each other, weeping silently for some amount of time before his mother stood back so she could quietly take a better look at him. She exclaimed over how much he’d grown and how happy she was that he’d found somewhere that looked after him so well. It was the first time it had occurred to him that she might not have approved, so it came as a relief that she thought it had been good for him.

When they were finally a little calmer, he lead them to the Visitor’s Terrace and found a set of empty rooms for their use before insisting on cooking for them. He wasn’t sure if he could call himself surprised or not to see his mother helping Su Xiyan take care of his sister. But it was done so casually and with such trust on Su Xiyan’s part that it was clear that their acquaintance had been a little longer than a day or two.

“That’s because it has been,” his mother said patiently when he finally mentioned it after they’d finished eating. (His heart was still singing with pride when they both had praised his cooking skills and complimented Ma-Shishu for teaching him so well.) “Su Xiyan found me and let me recover for a bit before bringing me to you. I would not have been able to travel so easily until she nursed me back to health.”

Su Xiyan nervously babbled, looking as if she was caught. “I didn’t know if I should have told you I had found her. I knew you’d want to meet her as soon as possible but — Huan Hua Palace Sect does not have Master Mu at its service, but we still have many fine doctors. A few days for them to treat her so she could travel to meet you herself and see how you lived seemed better for both of you…? I apologize if I overstepped… It was something she agreed with herself.”

His mother nodded her support with Su Xiyan’s explanation and reassured her like an old friend. It struck Binghe that his mother really had not had a friend like this. If she had, they would have met again very quickly when the time distortions began — she would have found him living with them, surely. 

Already the wheels in the back of his head were turning. Then he saw the women exchange glances before his mother nudged Su Xiyan and gave her an encouraging nod.

“I promised you I’d look for your mother — and I did, obviously,” Su Xiyan began, almost rushing through her speech. “But you see, she was looking for you too, and so whenever I would hear word about someone who matched her description, by the time my people or I could arrive, she would have moved on already. I—” Here Su Xiyan paused, running her hand over her sleeping daughter’s back, soothing the child when it was Su Xiyan herself that probably needed the soothing. 

Su Xiyan seemed so torn and guilty that Binghe actually found himself reaching out to her. Catching himself, he turned a nervous glance at his mother, who only smiled and looked on approvingly, rather than appearing hurt, so he relaxed. Closing her eyes, Su Xiyan took a long breath to steady herself and gave Binghe an apologetic look when she opened them again. 

“I never knew my mother — or any of my relatives. Old Palace Master was the only ‘parent’ that I knew… The lessons he taught are all questionable at best. Your father was raised in a demon household and grew up to hate his family, who had no love in their hearts for anyone. Zhuzhi-lang… his situation was worse than even your father’s. I worry what sort of things your sister will grow up learning, surrounded by people like us, who can only muddle along blindly. I don’t wish to take anything from you, Luo Binghe, and I know this is selfish of me to ask this of you. I knew before meeting her that someone who could raise a child like you was someone I should learn from. When we met, I was glad to see that your mother was just as strong as I could have hoped as well. Will you let me invite her to stay at Huan Hua Palace to help take care of your sister? At least until she’s a little older? I don’t wish to keep you and your mother from each other, so I’ll make sure you both can visit each other as often as you like… but there is no one else I would trust with this.”

Binghe stared a moment at Su Xiyan, who did not wilt or falter, but her eyes seemed resigned when he did not respond. He looked to his mother, who showed nothing in her expression but patient affection and steadiness, saying only, “Regardless of what you decide, we will be staying a few days so I can see how you live and how I might fit into it now that you belong to the sect. You don’t have to choose now.”

His eyes strayed to his sister’s sleeping face. Just seeing her scrunch her face as she dreamed, he smiled — the decision made just that simply. An elder brother is meant to share good things with his little sister, isn’t he? 

He supposed he should learn to call two women ‘mother’. 

The first time he addressed his blood family properly was awkward, but it got easier. Especially when trying made so many people happy.

Luo Binghe was nearly twelve years old when he decided that someone could have everything after all. If you didn’t try to grasp everything at once tightly with both hands, more that you found dear could be held at the same time — like stacking mooncakes in your palms rather than closing your fists around them so no one else could have any but you. 

It could be enough to know that the people you loved and that loved you were out there, waiting until the next time you could meet again. If you were very, very lucky, it would be often.

(And though he wasn’t supposed to be aware of this, Binghe knew how exceptionally lucky he actually was.)

Chapter Text

Even with the restoration elixir, Tao Ying slept through the rest of autumn.

He slept through all of winter too, though as Shen Yuan had bonded more deeply with his recovering tree, he’d spent most of winter a little sluggish and drowsy himself, so Shen Qingqiu supposed it was probably a tree fairy thing rather than something he should worry about. 

Not that Shen Qingqiu was worried about the rotten log.

(He was more than a little bemused by the jade luohan couch that had appeared in his didi’s bathhouse sometime in late autumn. Shen Yuan would nap there when he felt particularly chilled. It bothered Shen Qingqiu a little to know that his didi needed greenhouse conditions to feel comfortable in the winter and had made many scathing comments until the house mysteriously went through several small renovations so that it was less affected by outside weather conditions. Even though the house was now much warmer, Shen Yuan still napped in the bathhouse, saying the temperature and sounds soothed him and he didn’t like to make Liu Qingge feel trapped in the house with him all winter just because he was cold and wanted to snuggle, which was sickeningly considerate of him.)

Shen Qingqiu had not asked, but Liu Qingge had told him more than once that Qing Mushu was sure that Tao Ying was recovering well and would likely wake in the spring.

So Shen Qingqiu did not worry through winter. With his didi and Liu Qingge being embarrassingly sticky with each other (and reassuring him of things he was not worrying about), he spent more time visiting at the Warm Red Pavilion, complaining about his annoying didi (a revelation that excited the ladies, who liked to hear all of his new stories and tease him for bragging about his didi) and coaching XiangXiang in cultivation. 

During the last few months, the girl had trained in qinggong under the Madam. The now-younger Madam was delighted to share what she knew with someone, saying in the vague way anyone who could not quite remember their previous lives had that it had felt like, “a long time” since she’d last had a student. (He encouraged the Madam to teach some of these skills to more of her ladies. “At least a little knowledge of self-defense is useful and it never made a girl less pretty,” he said dryly. “Some men even find it exciting.” She’d laughed at him and agreed.)

It would be difficult to say that XiangXiang was ‘a natural’ at it, but her experiences from her other life and training herself to learn everything she could had served her well because she picked up everything he or the Madam taught her with a fierce determination. It reminded him so much of himself that even if he hadn’t already felt a vague liking for her based on his memories of who XiangXiang had once been, he would have still felt a connection to her. He hoped she would pick Qing Jing when she came to the sect, though he thought she was more likely to choose one of the others. That was fine — he could bear having another shizhi who came to his peak to bother him for lessons. 

Heaven help them all if XiangXiang and the Little Beast became friends. 

(It ended up being worse than that. When XiangXiang joined the sect that spring, she and Binghe became rivals. If she had not been leading the charge to win over Zhuzhi-lang’s heart — successfully enough that she was the only one of them whose name the young demon actually remembered, though not so successfully that he understood her intentions — Shen Qingqiu would have worried that when they were a little older they would have one of those tumultuous romances that were so popular with idiots. Instead they were more likely to compete to see who could master this or that skill faster. Ai…)

By the end of the second week of spring, Shen Qingqiu no longer wondered when Tao Ying would wake up — telling those who brought it up that he didn’t need their reassurances. As far as he was concerned, the rotten fairy could wake up during the Mid-Autumn Festival and it would be all the same to him. They clearly did not believe him, but at least they did not hover and make a point about telling him it should be ‘any day now’ — something he’d been told nearly daily — sometimes by multiple people — since the plum trees began blossoming.

Shen Qingqiu just happened to be sitting underneath the peach tree reading reports from his little shadows when he felt a brush of sweet air.

“You almost missed the wedding,” Shen Qingqiu said flatly without looking up.

“Oh, Darling — did I sleep through your proposal? That’s just unlucky for me. I’m sure it was beautiful, so please do it again,” Tao Ying replied, sitting beside him and carefully tucking a sprig of his flowers into Shen Qingqiu’s hair.

Though he knew better, Shen Qingqiu couldn’t help but turn to give the peach tree fairy a scathing look.

“Shen Yuan and Liu Qingge’s wedding.”

“Oh,” Tao Ying said, fluttering his eyelashes as if he were surprised at the mistake, though the glitter in his eyes suggested he was enjoying himself. “Well, then at least I didn’t miss out on your proposal while I was sleeping.”

“Keep dreaming then and maybe you’ll get one,” Shen Qingqiu said grumpily, turning back to the reports and pretending to read them.

“I see! Then you’re waiting on me even now. It’s very romantic, I must admit. My heart flutters at how shy you are, hoping I will make the first move. If you’re ready, Darling, I will do exactly that. I’m ready for you to make me your husband whenever you are.” The fairy’s voice softened; even deepened throughout his speech. He leaned closer, somehow knowing exactly how close he could get before Shen Qingqiu pushed him away.

Shen Qingqiu was surprised to realize he was blushing.

“What makes you think it would even work between us?” he finally asked, wishing he sounded colder, but knowing he didn’t.

“Oh Darling — what do you mean? It’s fate.”

Shen Qingqiu managed a scoffing sound. “That’s hardly a convincing argument. You can call anything ‘fate’.”

“Then how about this? It’s very simple:  A delight like you deserves a delight like me,” the fairy said, smiling as if he was teasing, but his beautiful peach stone eyes held a sentiment that was entirely serious.

Tao Ying thought he was a delight. No — it truly was more than this. The peach tree fairy leaned towards him like he was the sun and he had been denied it too long.

They looked at each other for a long moment before Shen Qingqiu’s resistance broke.

“Fuck it,” he said, almost annoyed with himself. “You’re right.” 

They deserved to be happy, just like anyone else did. And he thought they understood each other in a way no one else could. Why pretend any different? What was there to be scared of? Tao Ying would never hurt him. He might have teased or even scolded him when he thought it was deserved, but the fairy had never been anything other than gentle and considerate of his needs. If it was ever going to be anyone for him in this life, it would be Tao Ying.

Shen Qingqiu pushed away the portable desk and its stack of reports so he could rise onto his knees, take Tao Ying’s face in his slightly trembling hands, and finally succumb to the urge he’d been fighting for longer than he was willing to admit to:  he slid his fingers into Tao Ying’s glorious hair and held on as he pressed their lips together in a kiss.

It was somewhat terrifying, but the only thing Tao Ying did was lightly cover Shen Qingqiu’s wrists in a touch, silently inviting him to stay as he returned the kiss, sweet and tantalizing, but asking him for no more than he was willing to give. 

Who knew kisses could be like that?

When he finally broke for air, Shen Qingqiu was almost shaking. He lowered his body onto his heels and dropped his head to Tao Ying’s chest. He was surprised to realize the fairy’s heart was racing too, not just his own.

“I’m ready,” Shen Qingqiu whispered, realizing all at once that he actually was.

“Good,” Tao Ying replied, as breathless as he. The fairy lifted a hand after a moment, ghosting it over his hair as if he wasn’t entirely certain if it would be allowed. “I’ll court you however you like, Shen Qingqiu. Something long and slow so you can accustom yourself to someone loving you as I do, or a whirlwind romance where I whisk you off your feet and by the end of the week you beg me to request your hand in marriage — and anything in-between.”

“I wouldn’t beg,” Shen Qingqiu grumbled.

“I would — I may have been sleeping this whole time, but I missed you dearly.” The words were said so bluntly they could only be true.

Shen Qingqiu couldn’t quite bring himself to admit to the same just yet, but he hoped that because he’d carefully wrapped his arms around the fairy’s waist that it was understood that the feeling was mutual. With as sensitive as Tao Ying seemed to be to his needs and moods, and by the kiss pressed to his hair, he was pretty sure that even if the sentiment didn’t come across perfectly, that Tao Ying at least understood that he was glad he was there now.

They held each other in silence, soaking in each other’s presence as Shen Qingqiu wondered exactly how much bullying it would take to have An Ding Peak build a bathhouse/lounge area attached to his home so that Tao Ying would be comfortable if he visited Qing Jing Peak in winter.

It was not lost on him that planning such a thing was tantamount to beginning preparations for a wedding. Hopefully by then he’d be able to say the words.

Well. If he couldn’t say them, he would write them instead. Then they wouldn’t have to spend another winter apart.

From how safe he felt being held, perhaps they wouldn’t have to spend another night apart either. He would not object to learning if they could share a sleeping space and maybe even a few more kisses and begin from there.

Tianzhu would not be best pleased to give up her half of the bed — but some sacrifices were worth making.

Chapter Text

Growing up, Shen Yuan had not expected to ever become a married man.

If he ever idly thought of it, in the same way anyone might half-heartedly daydream of becoming a celebrity by being ‘discovered’ randomly on the street, Shen Yuan had thought that his potential future spouse would have to be competent, strong-willed, and patient, and he would have thought it would be nice if they made his heart flutter when they smiled. (But how could he hope for such an impossible combination? Someone like that could do better than him, and would have better things to do than pursue a doomed romance regardless. Even in modern times, whose family would allow it?)

Only that was exactly the kind of person that he had now. And so much more.

Shen Yuan was a married man, and his husband was beautiful. His heart did not merely flutter in his presence — it raced. Liu Qingge was patient, strong-willed, and ridiculously competent. He was also intelligent, kind, funny, and sometimes so cute that he wanted to press his husband down and tease him until he was a flustered mess.

It could not be overstated — his Feng-ge was OP in every category! He dared any family try to produce a better candidate. (And then he would ignore them because it would obviously be false goods.)

Whether it was fate or some glitch in the System, they had found each other and fallen in love. Though it was somewhat embarrassing (but perfectly natural), Shen Yuan thought he fell in love again with his husband every day — often with the same things as before, and sometimes he discovered something new to love, or understood that this normal thing was lovable too.

Today’s new thing was in the way that when Shen Yuan casually asked if he could draw Liu Qingge in the nude, his husband had preened and begun undressing even before Shen Yuan had anything to sketch with. When he’d returned with his supplies, he found his Feng-ge waiting for him, posed on the jade couch in the bathhouse as confidently as if he’d been practicing; just waiting for him to finally ask.

If Shen Yuan had known his husband had most likely been preparing for this since the first time he’d casually (accidentally) mentioned it, he would have asked sooner.

He and Liu Qingge had been together for months before they were able to be married — he was no stranger to his Feng-ge’s body, or even the thrill he felt when he could see that his husband wanted him and was prepared to seduce him to have him how he wanted him. They had taken their time to learn so much together and tried (and enjoyed) things that would have made him blush to even think of before.

But this… 

This was provocative in such a different way. 

His husband had thought about how he wanted to be seen; had anticipated his reaction and invited him to look his fill. It was shameless, but in such a way that was so trusting and intimate that Shen Yuan felt breathless. Liu Qingge was comfortable in his sensuality because it was him looking.

Liu Qingge was posed like a young god lounging as he waited for his lover to return. He was so beautiful.

And Shen Yuan had never been more aroused in his life.

He wanted to explore his husband with his hands and mouth as if it was the first time, and from the tiger-like watchfulness in Liu Qingge’s eyes, his husband was prepared for that too. He almost dared him. He certainly tempted him.

As much as Shen Yuan was eager to do all of these things, and discover exactly what his husband must have imagined doing in response if Shen Yuan succumbed to temptation, Shen Yuan wanted to record this moment now, while it was fresh in his mind. He made a small, smothered groan and sat on a bath stool. Then he filled sheets with warm-up sketches of the most tantalizing ways his Feng-ge drew his eye, and then sketched the whole.

Liu Qingge did not simply settle into one pose. He watched him as closely as Shen Yuan studied him and shifted to a new pose every so often, stretching to create intriguing new lines with his body, tilting his head coyly as his eyes implied unspoken words, pulling his hair down and letting it settle over his neck and shoulders. Shen Yuan wanted to remember it all in a decade or a hundred years. 

This was a thing that was not just ‘possible’ but ‘likely’ here and without a camera to take photos, and without knowing any spells to record his memories, all he could do was draw so that they could look back and remember how he’d gone through an entire stack of paper trying to capture all of these feelings.

Some things were inherently unfair.

His Feng-ge when he wanted his attention was one of them.

When Shen Yuan paused in his sketching to contemplate going to find more paper, Liu Qingge decided that his A-Yuan had done more than enough looking and appreciating, but not nearly enough time with hands-on anatomy studies. It did not take much convincing that his husband was quite correct.

A little more than a year ago, Shen Yuan had barely allowed himself to dream of anything at all. Now his dreams came to him and made sure he did not let them go easily.

This one in particular, his happy married life, was one that Shen Yuan would cultivate quite carefully. As he’d already noticed — there was still room for it to grow into something even more beautiful.