Work Text:
Shen Qingqui's leisurely stroll was interrupted by sounds of yelling. Curious, he entered a hall and saw that he had walked in on what looked like...torture?
Shang Qinghua was with some poor An Ding Peak disciples, the two of them crouched on the floor.
"Can. You. Not. Read? Two months! How can you be two months late?" Shang Qinghua punctuated his words with hard hits using the scroll he carried.
Shen Qingqui was sure the wooden edge of the scroll must have hit the disciples' heads at least once. It was too pitiful. He walked over and put a hand on the scroll to stop him. The disciples bowed to Master Shen with gratitude and bolted out at once.
"Cucumber bro!"
"Shush! Don't yell in my ears. Why were you hitting those kids? Is this how you treat all of your peak's disciples? Revolting." Shen Qingqui held up his nose loftily.
At the sight of him, Shang Qinghua's demeanor did a complete 180° from the angry peak lord to a pathetic excuse of one.
He clung to Shen Qingqui's robes and cried, "You don't know what they did, Cucumber bro! They messed up a delivery so bad, it came in two months late! Now, all I'm left with is a stinking pile of mush! I even got permission to store it here in the Qing Jing Peak to avoid space issues at mine, and for what?" He blathered.
Shen Qingqui's curiosity got the better of him as he pulled off the other peak lord, "What delivery?"
"I found onions in a town a few miles away after much searching and procured them finally. All they had to do was bring up the order! Did I mention they were two months late?"
"Hmmph, is that all? Well, that's what you get for abusing the peak's resources for personal reasons. Are they not feeding you at the An Ding Peak or what? What do you want onions for, anyway?"
"Onion rings, Cucumber bro! I just wanted to have some Sichuan-style onion rings. It's been too long. Don't you think about stuff like that?" Shang Qinghua looked up at the other man. He shook his head and said, "Of course you wouldn't. You are feasting on my son's cooking every day."
Shang Qinghua turned around to pick up his scrolls dropped on the floor. "Sometimes," he mumbled, "I miss home. Don't you?"
Shen Qingqui's forehead wrinkled. He neither agreed nor disagreed.