Chapter Text
Shang Qinghua was tired. Very, very tired. Tired of his martial brothers. Tired of his duties as the Lord of An Ding Peak. Tired of the ever-increasing workload that forced him to toil tirelessly for hours on end every day. Tired of nobody, absolutely nobody, acknowledging his work. No one thanked him, and to top it off, everyone whispered behind his back about how useless and stupid he was.
It was true; Shang Qinghua wasn't as strong or skilled as his martial brothers. He wasn't a War God like Liu Qingge, nor as honorable and admirable as Yue Qingyuan, the sect leader. He wasn't as ethereal and fabulous as Cucumber-bro, Shen Qingqiu, or as powerful and feared as his husband, Luo Binghe. But Shang Qinghua worked harder than anyone else from the darkness of his An Ding Peak quarters, pushing his body and mind to the limit every day and night, neglecting himself for others. And yet, no one bothered to ask how he was doing, or why he didn't rest more given how exhausted he looked (there was no way anyone hadn't noticed the dark circles under Shang Qinghua's eyes, but he had long stopped trying to hide them, hoping that one of his martial brothers would show concern for him. Unsuccessfully). Not even his disciples, too occupied with An Ding Peak's tasks, had time to worry or assist their leader.
Yes, Shang Qinghua was tired. Very tired. But since no one seemed to notice, he had begun to ignore it himself. Apart from the mental breakdowns and obvious physical neglect that Shang Qinghua exhibited, everything was fine. An Ding Peak functioned. It was as swift and efficient as it was demanded to be, ensuring that the Cang Qiong Sect also ran smoothly. And that kept all his martial brothers happy.
Or so he wished. Because, of course, it wasn't the case.
"Shang-shidi, where are the lists of new books I asked to be drafted?"
"Shang-shidi, Bai Zhan Peak needs urgent repairs again. Liu Qingge's disciples have demolished the battlefields again."
"Shang-shidi, why haven't the medication shipments I requested last week arrived yet? We urgently need them at Qian Cao Peak. Are you even aware of how crucial those supplies are for us?"
"Shang Qinghua, if you don't do your job, you're only hindering everyone else. Stop wasting time and do as you're asked. It's not that complicated."
"Always so useless..."
Shang Qinghua bit his lip and silently endured all those hurtful and disrespectful comments towards him, as he always did. Shang Qinghua detested meetings more than anything. He preferred to carry out his work in the solitude and tranquility (if there was ever such a moment of peace in his life) of his quarters, and he hated being exposed to constant whispers about how "useless" and "lazy" he was.
If only they knew how hard he worked, how much he silently suffered to fulfill all their requests, even the most absurd ones. Maybe it wasn't his fault for the sect's problems. Maybe Shen Qingqiu should stop asking for so many impossible-to-find books to satisfy his own curiosity (Shang Qinghua knew that many of those books, Shen Qingqiu didn't even read. But he loved asking and having his desires granted. Accustomed to being constantly indulged by his husband, Luo Binghe, he expected the same treatment from everyone around him), maybe Liu Qingge should better educate his disciples and teach them manners and how to take care of what they had instead of being the one to destroy his own battlefields, or maybe the other sect leaders should have a little more patience and understand that overnight, it's impossible to carry out their intricate tasks. Maybe they should all be a little more compassionate toward him.
But, of course, it was easier for his martial brothers to blame Shang Qinghua for all the sect's problems instead of making an effort to fix them themselves or admitting their own mistakes.
Shang Qinghua was tired. Very tired of always carrying the burden of others' mistakes, in addition to his own.
If only Cucumber-bro would pay attention to him and help him... But Shen Qingqiu didn't even remember him unless he needed something. They no longer spoke as friends, nor laughed together. To Shen Qingqiu, Shang Qinghua was invisible, a rat not worth paying attention to, someone inferior to him. Even when Shang Qinghua, excitedly, went to present his friend with the new novel he had been working on for hundreds of nights, Shen Qingqiu ignored him. With his chin up, he looked at the book in disgust and scoffed.
"Another terrible novel? I hope this one doesn't read like it was written by a primary school student. Maybe the System will call me again to fix it. I don't have time to read your garbage, Shang-shidi."
"But Cucumber-bro, you're the only one I trust to read my novels! You were my biggest critic. You can't deny that you liked Proud Immortal Demon Way. You paid to read chapters in advance and wrote lengthy comments criticizing it. I'm not asking you to do the same, just to use a bit of your free time and help me with this novel."
"I'm not going to waste my time on that."
"But-"
"Binghe must be finishing dinner by now. I'm sorry, but I have to go. Maybe if nobody reads your novels, you should give it up."
"Give it up?"
"You know, stop writing. You don't need it to live as before, right? Why continue with something you're not talented in?"
To say that Shen Qingqiu's words didn't anger and hurt Shang Qinghua would be a lie. Since then, he stopped writing. He wanted to burn the manuscript of his new novel, but he couldn't. Deep down, he was proud of it. It was the first novel he had worked on for himself, not just to please a bunch of internet users willing to pay for it. He had put a lot of effort into this novel and had thought about every little detail of it.
But apparently, that didn't matter. He would always be the terrible writer Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky. Worthy only of laughter and contempt.
Shang Qinghua was tired. Very tired.
So, one day, as the sun began to rise on the horizon, Shang Qinghua, carrying only a few provisions, left.
No one would notice his absence until days later when things in the Cang Qiong Sect started to go awry.