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“Fuck my life,” Shen Qingqiu bemoans, then rushes to cover his mouth with his hand.
Luo Binghe and Mu Qingfang stare at him with varying degrees of surprise. Other than raising his eyebrows, his shidi manages to contain his reaction to one of polite bewilderment; meanwhile Luo Binghe’s gaze holds a mixture of curiosity and amusement. Shen Qingqiu avoids both their eyes, mourning the loss of his scholarly image. He’s well aware that his dignity is far from intact, but is it too much to ask for it to stop being stomped on by Airplane’s ridiculous wife plots?!
A truth curse is the absolute last thing he needs in his life! Why did it have to be him anyway? There are so many people around with useful information, in more vulnerable positions to share it. And he can't even discount his anger on anyone, because the perpetrators are already gone – dead by Luo Binghe’s hands.
Ever the attentive one, Luo Binghe averts his eyes, as if sensing Shen Qingqiu’s growing displeasure at his predicament. He watches from behind his fan as his disciples head turns toward his lap, where his hands are neatly folded. A simple gesture that changes his demeanor entirely from the earlier mischief to that of a respectful little wife, waiting patiently by Shen Qingqiu’s side for the end of this appointment.
It's exasperatingly sweet, a truly unfair attack on Shen Qingqiu’s heart.
When he feels the pull of the curse, Shen Qingqiu is very, very grateful that he'd yet to take his hand away from his mouth. If he'd blurted out something like this out loud in front of not only Luo Binghe but also Mu-shidi, he would have been left with no other option other than to crawl into a hole and die.
He couldn't be more thankful for Mu Qingfang than he is when he interferes, saving Shen Qingqiu from this dangerous line of thought. “... The curse should gradually dissipate on its own now that it's been neutralized, in about a day or two, “ he grimaces, as if able to read Shen Qingqiu’s answering thoughts in spite of his efforts to restrain them. “This shidi apologizes for being unable to do more to help.”
In the grand scheme of things, a day or two wouldn't be considered a long time. However, to Shen Qingqiu, that's way too long! How is he meant to survive with his thin face intact under these conditions? Two entire days of feeling compelled to share his innermost thoughts seem more daunting than facing another world ending event.
“Fuck my life,” he blurts out. “And fuck Shang Qinghua too, that bastard .”
Luo Binghe’s gaze snaps back to him; Mu Qingfang eyebrows rise.
“How is Shang Qinghua involved in this?” his husband asks, voice ice cold.
Way too quickly, Shen Qingqiu corrects, “Nothing!”
He’s met with open disbelief from both sides, which he can admit it’s fair, as his rushed statement didn’t inspire too much confidence. Shen Qingqiu considers his next words with more care, because while the idea of sending his angry husband Airplane’s way in order to vent his frustrations might be tempting, he doesn’t actually think the little rat needs to die for his crimes. “Don’t worry, Shang-shidi isn’t smart enough to get past Binghe’s defenses, I’m certain he has nothing to do with this.”
Luo Binghe tilts his head to the side, face softer, but still sharp. Shen Qingqiu can’t help the thought that he looks a little bit like a cat, sharp and alert, or perhaps a hound. “Then why bring him up?”
“... Sometimes I like blaming him for all my life’s problems,” he says slowly, truthfully enough to prevent the curse from compelling him to say anything else. “It suits him.”
That seems to be enough to appease Luo Binghe, which in turn calms Mu Qingfang as well – maybe too much in his shidi’s case. Don't think he didn't hear that laugh! With the lighter mood, they move to the next topic of conversation, and his slip up is left forgotten. Shang Qinghua should thank me for this, the rat.
The rest of the appointment is more or less uneventful. Mu Qingfang gives him some suggestions of what he might be able to do to manage the curse while it dissipates, but there’s little else he can do, so soon they are being sent on their way back to Qing Jing Peak.
* * *
Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe are quiet on the walk back to the bamboo house. They spoke briefly to consider the thought of leaving Cang Qiong Mountain altogether through the duration of the curse, but Luo Binghe hadn’t said a word since they’d decided to stay – a decision Shen Qingqiu still isn’t entirely certain about. Honestly, his main motivation is that he’d like to lock himself away as soon as possible, rather than having to wait to arrive elsewhere to die of mortification.
The silence makes for a tentative peace between them. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t forget his predicament, but it’s easy to fall back into the dynamic they’d had when Luo Binghe had been a younger disciple and acted as his little assistant who was happy to handle everything for him. It’s a sight that makes Shen Qingqiu so happy he can almost let go of the concerns weighing on his heart, content to keep his lips sealed and hidden behind his fan while Luo Binghe speaks for him.
It’s not too unusual that they’ll be able to fall back to that dynamic when traveling together nowadays; it’s their visits to Cang Qiong Mountain Sect that tend to be more varied, what with the pestering Shen Qingqiu’s martial siblings have become so fond of doing and the whining of his disciples.
His nostalgia is taken to new heights when they run into Qi Qingqi, who makes a show of coming to ask about his condition. Luo Binghe replies for him, and the two of them fall into a bickering contest hidden under feigned politeness that he quite enjoys being able to stand back and watch.
Shen Qingqiu slips up exactly once over the course of that interaction, which, while he knows his shimei won’t ever allow him to forget he’d used such… casual language, he counts as a victory. Although he’ll make sure to appropriately pay her back for her cackling once he’s able to control his speech, it’s only fair.
Nevertheless they arrive at Qing Jing Peak with arguably little pain. Most people had the good sense to stay away from them when they saw the glare accompanying Luo Binghe’s pleasant smile, thus there hadn’t been many opportunities for Shen Qingqiu to open his mouth.
He nearly breathes a sigh of relief when the bamboo house is in sight, yet of course that is when Shen Qingqiu’s wide eyed not-so-little disciples decide to intercept them. It isn’t a surprise to see Ming Fan, Ning Yingying and gaggle of curious but less emboldened disciples behind them, all giving him concerned eyes. Still, Shen Qingqiu snaps his fan back in annoyance. They’d been so close to an uneventful trip home!
This is still salvageable, he tells himself, Binghe can handle his martial siblings just fine.
“Shizun!” Ning Yingying greets, “We disciples heard that you were caught in an attack. Is Shizun alright?”
Before Luo Binghe can give what he’s certain would’ve been a better reply, Shen Qingqiu mumbles idly, “This master is fine, the curse placed on him has yet to lead to deadly consequences.” Though it might, if he continues voicing everything that crosses his mind. It’s perfectly possible that at this rate Shen Qingqiu will spontaneously burst into flame.
Unsurprisingly, that earns him multiple exclamations of “Shizun,” the loudest being from Ming Fan, while all of them mutter about what he could mean by deadly consequences. Shen Qingqiu bites his lip in order not to say anything else, giving Luo Binghe the chance to properly explain his condition.
“Mu-shishu has already taken care of it, there's no reason to worry, Ning-shijie,” he tells Ning Yingying gently. Then, addressing everyone else, he warns. “Shizun’s control over his speech will remain compromised while he recovers, so you shouldn't bother him during the next few days.”
Because nothing can ever be accepted that easily by the bratty children Shen Qingqiu’s raised, Mong Fan gets into a spat with Luo Binghe over the injustice of this.
Rather than bothering with them, Shen Qingqiu turns to Ning Yingying, whose expectant eyes are already on him.
“Don't worry, Shizun!” she says, smiling brightly now that she's been reassured of his safety. “I won't ask you anything! And I'll make sure the others know they shouldn't do that either.”
As her martial siblings agree with the sentiment, promising to help spread the word, Shen Qingqiu’s weary heart softens a little. His disciples may often act like a bunch of brats, but in moments like these he feels like his instruction has made an effect on them. What good youths these children have grown out to be, he thinks. Although the irony that Luo Binghe and Ming Fan's ongoing argument offers to that thought isn't lost on him.
It's only when he's met with emotional expressions from the helpful crowd and twin looks of outrage from Ming Fan and Luo Binghe that he realizes he's said his thoughts out loud.
Ning Yingying beams, jumping in before her martial siblings can bring their argument up to him. “This disciple thanks Shizun for the compliment!” she giggles. “Don’t worry about these two. I’ll take shixiong with me to warn the others, and I’m sure A-Luo will be happy to have you all to himself.”
“Mm-hmm of course. Luo Binghe will take good care of me,” he nods along. There's no doubt in that matter, his husband is quite the overachiever when it comes to that. Then he mutters to himself absentmindedly, “Just not too good I hope. This master's face wouldn't survive his advances while under this course.”
He stills the moment he realizes what he's said, as do a couple of nearby disciples. Despite avoiding his eye, Shen Qingqiu’s face heats up under Luo Binghe’s burning gaze, and for a moment all he can do is stand there, heart in his throat, unable to move. He watches as the realization of what he meant slowly sinks into Ning Yingying, painting her cheeks pink.
“Shizun–” Luo Binghe starts to say, only to cut himself when Shen Qingqiu turns his back to them, clearly intending to walk away.
“Anyone who speaks of this will be running laps and copying scrolls a hundred times,” he chokes out.
Then he starts walking, determined to make it back to his house without being caught into any more conversations. He doesn't think another slip like this is something he can survive.
* * *
It’s a relief to be home, alone where no one can take more information out of him, accidentally or otherwise. Dramatic as it was of him, the first thing Shen Qingqiu did was lie in bed, seeking refuge under the covers as though they could hide away his shame along with him.
Luo Binghe had followed after him, as he’d expected. He had come in and sat beside him, silently running a hand through Shen Qingqiu’s hair. Then he laid a kiss on top of his head, told him that he would be in the kitchen, and left him to his misery.
There’s something soothing about listening to the little noises Luo Binghe makes as he cooks; in knowing his husband is there, a mere couple of steps away, in the kitchen they had built so that he wouldn’t have to always leave their house for the Qing Jing Peak’s communal one, and yet they don’t have to say a word to each other.
He thinks that he falls asleep at some point. Not deeply, but he closes his eyes with the intent to rest them, and when he opens then again he can feel a delicious smell in the air, tell-tale of Luo Binghe’s cooking.
Shen Qingqiu contemplates what to do then. The time he spent in solitude was much needed. He appreciates that Luo Binghe didn’t push the matter and left him to his devices, but… After a while, being by himself with his thoughts has started to feel a little lonely.
In a fit of childish rage, Shen Qingqiu rolls in bed a few times. Sits up, punches his pillow. He wishes he could yell at it, but even a muffled scream would be heard by Luo Binghe and he’s already embarrassed himself more than enough for the day, so he stops there.
At last, he stands up and goes in search of Luo Binghe.
His husband is easily found carefully plating their food, the usual four side dishes with a soup. It looks as appetizing as ever, and Shen Qingqiu’s stomach rumbles in response. It isn't what alerts Luo Binghe of his presence. Shen Qingqiu sincerely doubts that Luo Binghe hasn't been aware of him from the moment he stepped into the kitchen.
Still, he takes joy in leaning against the door and watching him, and Luo Binghe lets him. His disciple allows Shen Qingqiu to keep the pretense of going unnoticed until he's done setting two trays of food, one for each of them. Only then does Luo Binghe turn to him, with a soft smile so warm that it warms the entire room.
“Shizun didn't have to come all this way,” he says. “This one was going to bring your lunch to our room.”
Shen Qingqiu hummed. He knew that, but lunch isn't the reason why he'd come here. “We can still eat there, if you'll join me.” It's more direct than he would have usually put it, yet Shen Qingqiu isn't too upset about it, if only because the sentiment is one he would have attempted to convey.
The genuine look of surprise that briefly graces Luo Binghe is akin to that of a confused puppy. It brings a smile out of Shen Qingqiu, who can’t help being amused despite himself.
“... If that's what Shizun wants,” he nods, moving to pick up the trays of food,
Not a question, but an open statement, huh.
“It is,” Shen Qingqiu confirms.
Taken by a warmth he refuses to put a name to, Shen Qingqiu makes his way over to help, brushing his hand against Luo Binghe’s as he takes one of them from him. “Don’t think this master didn’t notice how quiet you’ve been,” he says. so naturally that he can’t tell if he’s been compelled by the curse or if he was simply tired of keeping the thought to himself.
Put on the spot, Luo Binghe doesn’t falter. He merely grins at Shen Qingqiu, entirely uncaring of having been found out. “This one didn’t want to make Shizun uncomfortable.”
The words are light and sweet, said simply as if there had never been any other option. Shen Qingqiu melts as he finally allows himself to realize that there hadn’t been, not to this Luo Binghe. His husband has been suspiciously quiet ever since they’ve found out just what had happened to him, speaking only in open ended suggestions and clear statements as to not prompt from Shen Qingqiu what he might not want to say – with the only exception being when he forgot himself in his worry.
It would seem that even a truth curse can’t force out of Shen Qingqiu what he doesn’t know he wants to say, so he’s allowed a moment to parse through his thoughts at this confirmation of his suspicions. “This master appreciates your consideration,” he says slowly. “But I missed you,” Shen Qingqiu adds helplessly, unable to prevent himself from doing so regardless of how much his skin burnt at the sincerity.
The effect the words have on Luo Binghe is almost enough to compensate for Shen Qingqiu’s racing heart. He spends a moment transfixed by the sight Luo Binghe makes with stars in his eyes, pink cheeks and a smile that could rival the sun.
There’s nothing too special about where they are, standing in their kitchen, both with trays of food in hand, yet Shen Qingqiu finds himself committing that image to memory, wanting to remember this feeling. Absently he wonders if the curse has also taken over his thoughts, it would be nice if he had that excuse for these saccarne thoughts. But he knows, deep down, that he’s been long since an entirely different spell.
“This disciple missed you as well!” Luo Binghe says eagerly. “I just.. I thought Shizun would have preferred to keep some distance until he’s able to control what he has to say.”
“So did I,” he sighs. “And yet.”
“And yet,” Luo Binghe laughs, with a happiness Shen Qingqiu finds difficult not to share.
The two of them don't end up taking the food to their room. Instead, they eat at the table, where they can more comfortably sit in front of each other and talk. It's been too long, Shen Qingqiu has decided, of being deprived of Luo Binghe’s voice.
Embarrassingly, he tells him as much, much to the satisfaction of his smug disciple.
He at least has the courtesy not to hold it over him for too long, returning to the sweeter, cheerful expression he's been wearing since Shen Qingqiu said he missed him.
“I know it's not the same,” Luo Binghe says, just sheepish enough to be endearing. “But whatever Shizun asks, this one will answer honestly.”
‘So you don't have to go through this alone,’ he doesn't say, yet Shen Qingqiu hears anyway.
It's ridiculous, utterly ridiculous. “You're embarrassing me,” he tells Luo Binghe, who has the gall to beam back at him.
Although perhaps even more ridiculous is how comforted he does feel at the offer. It's annoying, but… Shen Qingqiu likes that they’re on somewhat even ground. Not that Luo Binghe hides much from him on a regular basis, the shameless man; it’s that there’s something about stating it under these circumstances that puts him at ease.
Reassurances aside, most of the conversation they make during their meal is spent on light topics. By Luo Binghe’s design, Shen Qingqiu suspects, as well as his own. He’s more than content to answer to Luo Binghe’s more mundane inquiries so long as it keeps the attention away from that which he might want to keep for himself. Besides, he has to admit that he enjoys the opportunity to ask questions in kind, satisfying a number of his own curiosities about Luo Binghe.
Shen Qingqiu gets lightly interrogated on his opinions about his martial siblings, which isn't too bad when his overly honest answers make Luo Binghe laugh. He'd already known plenty about Luo Binghe’s opinions on them, though he does elaborate somewhat. Mostly, what Shen Qingqiu finds from him in that department, is gossip. Which leads them to another subject they both get an unexpected amount of enjoyment from.
He shares way more than he’d expected to ever share with Luo Binghe about his literary tastes, and discovers that his disciple has a sharp sense of humor when it comes to commentary that truly shouldn't have surprised him but did.
One thing leads to another and they somehow end up on the bamboo couch after they’re done eating. It’s too small for them to properly lay down together, but it’s enjoyable in the way only some imperfect things can be, to have Luo Binghe sprawling on top of him, a comfortable weight on his chest.
“Does Shizun remember the first time we laid down like this?” Luo Binghe asks, absently playing with a strand of Shen Qingqiu’s hair. “You wouldn’t stop batting my hands away.”
“Because you were being annoying,” he huffs, flickering him lightly on the forehead.
Luo Binghe huffs a laugh that ends into a sigh as he relaxes further against Shen Qingqiu. “Am I not annoying anymore?”
“Of course not. Binghe is too adorable,” he mutters, his burning face hidden by a mop of curly hair. “Now stop fishing for compliments.”
“Alright, alright.” Luo Binghe squeezes him tighter for a moment, a silent apology that Shen Qingqiu accepts far too easily.
Unsure of what else to say, the two of them allow the conversation to fall into a lull for a couple of peaceful moments. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t mind it, happy to distract himself by running his fingers through Luo Binghe’s curls.
“Shizun…”
“Hm?”
“I’m really happy you wanted me to be here with you today,” Luo Binghe whispers, face half hidden in the crook of Shen Qingqiu’s neck.
There’s no answer Shen Qingqiu can give other than “... Me too.”
It’s unexpected, but being cursed to speak the truth has turned out to be a far less painful experience than he’d initially thought, at least where Luo Binghe was concerned. Perhaps Shen Qingqiu should have known it would be that way from the beginning, after all, when aren’t things easier with Luo Binghe by his side?