Work Text:
Once upon a time, when he was still thinking about the plot and only writing the first chapters, the unimportant lords of Cang Qiong received characterizations from him that were not fit into more than a single line.
For the Proud Immortal Demon Way, the author, that is, the Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky, described Wei Qingwei as follows: a stern man devoted to his work, with sunken eyes and a face that did not know a smile.
“What's up, shidi?” leaned Wei Qingwei on him in their first encounter, shining like the bloody sun and laughing with a boyish laughter that could be listened to forever.
Shang Qinghua was confused at the beginning and deep inside panicked, all day later.
He was sure that he had made a mistake somewhere.
It was like this.
A boy came to Wang Jian, stately and biting, disgruntled and arrogant, with a greedy heart and the misery of loneliness in his soul.
The boy craved recognition, the boy craved power, the boy craved to get everything at once, unwilling to wait. In one world, his shizun didn't argue with An Ding's head disciple; a young man who barely had enough authority to argue with his shibo, but also a young man in yellow wanted to make sure their sect didn't go into debt (in the other, original world, as their God called it; Shang Qinghua would never be concerned about his sect's debt at such a young age, simply because he was a child), however, in this world, the boy rushed past the shizun's office to the sealed warehouse.
At that time, it wasn't hard to get there, hardly anyone could stop curious children if not the lord of the pika himself or the hall masters.
In this world, the boy rushing ahead of everyone else was not stopped by anyone.
The sword he wanted was too strong for him.
The sword he wanted hasn't chosen a master in two thousand years.
The sword he wanted is still being pulled out of its dusty sheath.
When Peak Lord Wan Jian does feel a sharp jolt of qi that shook the entire peak, if not the entire mountain, he bursts through the doors.
The boy stares fixedly at his reflection in the elegant blade; he notices them, and lowers his sword, smiling awkwardly and cordially.
“I'm sorry, shizun! That was just a curiosity, and-auch-auch-auch!” Lord Wang Jian pulls a younger disciple, whom he doesn't particularly know, by the ear, and huffs at him, beginning an hour-long lecture, and tells the An Ding disciple that he won't ask for a bigger budget, so be it.
Shang Qinghua rejoices tiredly as he leaves this place and forgets about this minor incident; the boy can barely tear his eyes away from the God that lurks around the corner, and his new lodestone is surprisingly weak and fragile.
The future Wei Qingwei that he was to become dies at the age of ten.
Sword Hongjing never planned to become human, but he doesn't miss the chance presented.