Work Text:
Fifteen years later
"I thought you weren't returning for a while," Liu Qingge said. "Wasn't expecting to receive your message."
He removed his armguards, tossing them into a basket by the door, and sat at the table. A light cloud of dust rose; the current Peak Lord's quarters in Bai Zhan Peak rarely saw use, and it appeared that whoever Yang Yixuan tasked to maintain his official abode was neglecting their duty.
His daughter's keen, fox-like eyes followed his movements, then darted back to his face. Liu He looked well, if a little older, her raven-black hair held up with a qianyuan's guan and a silver hairpin instead of the simple topknot she once favoured. She still carried herself in much the same way, proud and upright, though the gestures of her hands were now new to him. He found himself suddenly wary, noting micro-expressions he could not decipher.
"This humble daughter wasn't going to at first, not for a decade," Liu He said, resting her chin on her hand. She smiled: a placid, courteous smile that said nothing while falsely suggesting affability. "Mother wrote to say that Yu-didi will be going on his first independent mission on behalf of Huan Ying."
Liu Qingge grunted, waiting for Liu He to get to the point. There was no tea on the table, even though she'd arrived earlier to wait for him, and she was dressed in a traveller's garb of cotton and unremarkable silk — as if to leave again upon the wind. She might have been from Huan Ying herself, rather than Qing Jing, a spy in the guise of a seasonal trader.
"Little brother wouldn't tell me what he'd be doing, but he didn't have to." Liu He shrugged, an insouciant gesture that belied the knife-sharp focus of her gaze. "I walked in on him practising in front of the mirror — I apologised, Father, please don't look so fierce — and really, there's only one possible explanation for why he's wearing that style of xuanqun and painting his face."
What happened to his previously straight-talking daughter? Liu Qingge blew out a breath, annoyed. "He'er—"
"Huan Ying Peak has a very specific use for young, beautiful kunze disciples," she interrupted, as if he hadn't spoken. Her tone was cool, deliberately uninflected. "Shen Yu fulfils all three conditions. It is, of course, his choice — there's a reason why Huan Ying alone among Cang Qiong Mountain Sect approves a disciple's transfer to another Peak so readily. Every disciple who gets to this point has to be sure this is what they're willing to do."
"You can't mean—"
She sighed, watching him. "Yes."
There was a roar in Liu Qingge's head and chest, pushing out all the air from his lungs, leaving him unable to breathe, to speak. Not Xiao Yu, he thought, surely his son was still a child — yes, he was already twenty, but that was nothing to an immortal. Too young to be so burdened, and after everything that happened to his mother, Shen Qingqiu would be— he'd be heartbroken.
"Please don't fight Xun-shigu, Father," Liu He said quietly. "We both know she'd never spare a disciple, not even the child of her closest friend."
Liu Qingge breathed in and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, Liu He was standing by the window and looking out onto the cypress trees of Bai Zhan Peak. Her sword, Haotian, was propped up at her side, its unusual silvery-blue gleam disguised by a plain leather scabbard.
"Have you spoken with your mother?" Liu Qingge said. His voice was only slightly shaky, he thought, good enough to pass muster as his children's unbending father.
"Not yet. Mother is likely in our garden," his daughter responded — kindly and with care, in a way he recognised from Mu Qingfang delivering unwelcome news to the common people who sometimes found their way to Qian Cao. "I expect Mother would have already found out from Yu-didi."
***
Shen Qingqiu loved both of his children, but he was especially protective of Shen Yu; the delicate, curious boy who shared his surname and was a kunze, like himself. Shen Yu was frequently ill as a baby, and Shen Qingqiu would stay up to the wee hours of the morning tending to him despite being in poor health himself.
Liu Qingge, guilt-ridden and ashamed, had hovered at the margins of the maternal sanctuary Shen Qingqiu created around himself and Shen Yu. He'd been away on a hunt when his youngest child was born, weeks too early. When he finally arrived at Shen Qingqiu's bedside — his nails still stained with ichor as he held his son — Mu Qingfang informed him, with a quizzical frown, that Shen Yu was the name entered into Cang Qiong's genealogy records.
He hadn't protested. He knew full well why Shen Qingqiu had done it. Liu Qingge's and Shen Yu's shared lineage, immediately evident the first time he picked up the child and scented him, was a testimony of the grievous betrayal he committed. He'd violated his wife's trust and turned his face from his unborn child, brought low by his own jealousy and possessiveness.
Shen Yu's name was the sole reproof Shen Qingqiu could publicly make, one only the two of them would understand. It could even be explained away by the suggestion that the Qing Jing Peak Lord was the last surviving member of his line. A kunze could not head a clan or inherit their father's wealth, in any case, and Liu Qingge already sired a qianyuan heir upon his legal spouse. Thus was the Liu family's face safeguarded.
As Liu Qingge strode down the path to Shen Qingqiu's garden, he tried to remember the last time he and Shen Yu had spoken. It was a family dinner, he thought, three weeks ago. Would Shen Yu ever consider informing him? Yes, but only after the deed was done, and only if he thought his father would find out regardless.
He almost walked right into Shen Qingqiu, emerging soundlessly from amidst the bamboo that shrouded the path. Shen Qingqiu caught himself just in time to gracefully side-step a collision. The sight of him after time apart still made Liu Qingge's heart beat ever so slightly faster, desire pumping through his blood.
Shen Qingqiu was clad in layers of silk in subtle variations of green, the outermost layer displaying cascades of peonies in silver brocade. This was something he generally wore in early summer when the most strenuous task he had to accomplish was teaching a guqin class with the senior disciples, which would not dirty or damage the dainty embroidery. Shen Qingqiu had never lost his vanity despite everything, and Liu Qingge was glad for it; because it meant that his wife would be fine after all.
The Peak Lord of Qing Jing was, as of the moment, eyeing him up and down with a peevish frown. "You look like you've been wrestling a bear in a pigsty."
Liu Qingge fought the urge to growl. This was exactly why he decided on a detour to Bai Zhan Peak, not that he had the chance to make use of the stop. "He'er waylaid me," he explained, and said bluntly, "She told me Xiao Yu has been given his first solo mission."
"I see." Shen Qingqiu stiffened, affection vanishing from his lovely face like mist. "Liu Qingge, don't— I forbid you from interfering. You will do nothing but remember your duty to Cang Qiong and be Shen Yu's shibo, not his father. You will not stop him. You will—"
"Qingqiu, please — no, hold on," Liu Qingge cut in, raising his hands in surrender. He felt as if he'd just landed on a path that dissolved under his feet. "I thought you'd want to stop Xiao Yu."
Shen Qingqiu blinked. "Oh." He made a pained expression, as if thinking of something unpleasant. "We should talk, but not out in the open like this."
"You were the one who started shouting first," Liu Qingge muttered, which Shen Qingqiu pointedly ignored.
They walked home arm-in-arm, silent but for the little hmm Shen Qingqiu made when Liu Qingge pressed a kiss against his brow. The worry and anger Liu Qingge felt were mostly banked now, the inferno deferred to a later time. He looked up at the blue, cloudless sky beyond the mountain peaks, and thought about their children. One day, the Peak Lords would ascend. Their children would live on in their absence, and spend many more years without than with their parents.
For the first time, Liu Qingge felt old.
***
Liu Qingge was half-expecting Shen Qingqiu to bring them to the study for the conversation his wife was clearly reluctant to have, but he took Liu Qingge by the hand and led him to their bedroom instead.
Shen Qingqiu would rather cut Liu Qingge at the knees than befoul their bed with dirt and grime from the road, so Liu Qingge washed up and changed his clothes. He had the pleasure of watching Shen Qingqiu strip down to his innermost layers and remove the more elaborate pins from his hair, then pull on a loose-fitting robe with a pair of cranes painted on the skirt.
Sunset was hours away; on an ordinary day the Peak Lord of Qing Jing would still be dressed in all his finery, unwilling to be caught off-guard by unexpected visitors. He couldn't remember the last time he saw Shen Qingqiu so underdressed at this hour when his wife was otherwise healthy and not about to go into his season. Shen Qingqiu left the bedroom, and Liu Qingge's keen ears picked up the sound of him barring the front door.
He sat down on the bed, feeling weary. Perhaps they should consider travelling, Liu Qingge thought, with their children grown and no young disciples expected for at least another few years. In the early period of their marriage Shen Qingqiu could sometimes be persuaded to delay their return from a mission to go hunting for a monster or two, though he hated muck and untidiness. It had nothing to do with his willingness to get his hands dirty — no, Liu Qingge had learned that lesson all too well, in ways he wished he hadn't.
Shen Qingqiu returned with a tea tray and poured him a cup without saying a word. Liu Qingge stared down at the pale amber liquid. He drank down the tea, which had a sweet, aromatic flavour that reminded him vaguely of his late grandmother's eight-treasure porridge. It was strangely discombobulating, to see Shen Qingqiu discard his usual adherence to etiquette.
"I considered whether I should comply with Xiao Yu's wishes and not say anything to you," Shen Qingqiu said abruptly. He sat down next to Liu Qingge, hands folded in a deceptively relaxed gesture. "In the end, however, I thought it unwise to keep secrets. Unfortunately, He'er got ahead of me, which... was not how I would wish for you to find out."
He was expecting it, but it still hurt to know that Shen Yu placed so little trust in him.
"I thought you'd be upset. So did He'er," Liu Qingge said, carefully picking his way through the muddle in his head. Words came easier to him now, but not without effort. "I didn't think you'd be at peace with what Xiao Yu is tasked to do."
"Entertain strangers who might be cruel to him, you mean? Seduce qianyuan men and take them to bed?" Shen Qingqiu bit out. "Or are you ashamed that Xiao Yu will spend time as a flower in the very brothels you used to drag me out of?"
"What?" Liu Qingge nearly dropped the cup. "No! I don't — I don't want him to do anything he doesn't want to do. And. It's not like that, he's a Huan Ying operative."
Shen Qingqiu's jaw clenched. "Regardless, I'm not... upset, as you put it. But nor am I at peace, I suppose." An unnamed emotion crossed his face, too complicated for Liu Qingge to parse. "It's better this way, for Xiao Yu to learn by his own choice."
Liu Qingge mulled over the words in his head. "I don't understand," he admitted.
"I expect not. You and He'er, you're more similar than different. Not least of which because the world treats the two of you in much the same way, though He'er will have her own challenges." Shen Qingqiu took his empty cup, placing it carefully on the tray.
"But not you and Xiao Yu," Liu Qingge ventured, uncertain.
"The first time I heard some man making eyes at my son and calling him pretty, Xiao Yu was only twelve and newly-presented as a kunze. I was even younger when it started for me." Shen Qingqiu's voice trembled, but his words were as hard as stone. "The world saw us and thought us beautiful, but what they meant was that we were prey. If Xiao Yu is too haughty, they'll want to tear him down. If he's too meek, they will only take. He needs to learn to navigate this world as it is, not as how we would like it to be."
The span of Shen Qingqiu's life lay between them, and before their two separate paths converged there were ages Liu Qingge only knew of through guesswork and stories told in the dark while they were in bed together, as if those were confessions. He knew about Qiu Jianluo and Wu Yanzi as scraps of information waiting for the blank spaces to be filled in. The damage they did to Shen Qingqiu ran deep, and he hated them almost as much as he hated Luo Binghe, who hurt Shen Qingqiu and had torn through everything good Liu Qingge ever thought about himself.
"You are one of the strongest warriors Cang Qiong has ever produced. It won't be long before He'er will also be ranked at the top," Shen Qingqiu said matter-of-factly, with not a hint of pride. "Xiao Yu is stronger and faster than the average mortal, but in a direct contest of martial prowess, a junior Bai Zhan disciple will overpower him. It's only pragmatic that he learns how to make use of his other qualities, if he wishes to."
"I'll burn the world down if that's what it takes to keep him safe," Liu Qingge spat out.
"I know. It still wouldn't do any good, because what happened to make you set the world on fire would've already happened," Shen Qingqiu said with brutal honesty. "It doesn't matter how much you love Xiao Yu. It didn't matter how much you loved me. You're one man, high up in the mountains, how could you do everything and be everywhere? Never make a mistake? Impossible."
Shen Qingqiu sighed, sliding closer to his husband. His face was soft now, but his eyes held that knife's edge, honed in blood. "The belief in the 'one good man' is execrable fiction perpetuated by fools. And too weak to confront the knowledge that this rotten world can't be saved by a single hero."
Liu Qingge dropped his head onto Shen Qingqiu's shoulder, feeling tears beginning to prickle at his eyes. A raw, choked-out sound escaped from his throat. How he wished he didn't understand where Shen Qingqiu was coming from. If he could turn back time, he'd try to change fate too — and just like Shen Qingqiu, he'd find that one person could never carry enough to completely tilt the scales. It still felt as if he failed everyone he ever cared for. Had failed them, at one point or the other.
The Liu Qingge who first met Shen Qingqiu never had to think much beyond himself and a clearly-defined set of duties, of which his sister was one. Over time his world became so much larger, filled with boundless love and grief. He had Shen Qingqiu, whose pain he could only ameliorate but not defeat; and two children he now had to let go towards a future he had no control over. He could only wait, and light a lamp to welcome them home.
"Xiao Yu has Huan Ying to call on," Liu Qingge said, mostly to himself, listening to the sounds of Shen Qingqiu's body. His lungs expanding and contracting, the beat of his heart within his chest. Still alive.
"Yes," Shen Qingqiu breathed into his hair. His hands were warm, and Liu Qingge wanted to spend lifetimes holding them. "It helps, to have other people at your side."
END