Work Text:
It begins with a fight, as all things do in the life of Bai Zhan Peak Lord Liu Qingge’s life.
The creature is massive: towering, scaled, all fangs and muscle, and stinking of blood and rot. It’s half bone, half…something else, something definitely born of bad qi. It rears back, bearing a mouth full of jagged, sharp teeth. It crashes through the dark forest, snapping trees as it moves closer. One clawed limb whips towards him, and Liu Qingge meets it head-on with a clean, brutal slash from his blade. Cheng Luan glides through the air, slicing the creature’s arm in one fluid motion. The beast roars loudly. Liu Qingge doesn’t even flinch.
He adjusts his footing, preparing to deliver the final blow, already deciding whether to bring back some of its parts to Shen Qingqiu. The creature lunged again. Liu Qingge pivots and brings Cheng Luan down with a precise movement.
The blade slices through the creature’s waist. Deep enough to permanently disable it. It should be the end of it.
But then…
A glow.
Liu Qingge stares in confusion at Cheng Luan, almost wanting to drop his sword. Where Cheng Luan’s cold silver-blue energy would usually flicker, it instead begins to shimmer with an entirely unnatural hue.
Pink.
Pink.
The blade, still dripping with blood, shimmers in a soft pink.
Liu Qingge doesn’t know what to do. Before he can move an inch, a voice speaks from the sword, soft and clear. Is it his voice? It should be, logically, since it’s his sword, but it’s definitely not.
“He scolded me for not wearing enough layers on a windy day. I told him I wasn’t cold. I lied. I just wanted him to keep fussing.”
The forest goes silent, or at least that’s all Liu Qingge can register. The beast, mid-way to aiming for a weak attack, freezes. It stares at him. Liu Qingge, who has faced hoards of creatures and monsters and demons alike, suddenly had no idea what to do with his hands.
He stares at his sword in disbelief. Cheng Luan continues to glow pink. The voice, warmer now, can be heard again.
“He held me steady after No Cure acted up. His hands were warm. I said thank you, but I meant please don’t let me go.”
Liu Qingge makes a small choking noise. The beast, eyes wide with what can only be described as horror, utters a low groan of pain and turns away. It crashes through the underbrush, dragging its bloody body and leaving a trail of crushed foliage in its escape.
The man doesn’t leave. Instead, he sits in the clearing longer after the creature has gone, Cheng Luan resting on the ground in front of him as he stares.
No Cure? As in…Shen Qingqiu’s No Cure????
Is this a joke??
Eventually, Liu Qingge slowly picks up Cheng Luang and returns to Bai Zhan Peak. He does not speak of it. He does not look at the sword for longer than necessary. Maybe it was a fluke. Some demonic residue. A delayed curse?
Three days pass. He resheathes Cheng Luan over and over, but nothing occurs. By the fourth day, he’s back to training (and regrettably teaching) on the Bai Zhan sparring fields. There are sixteen disciples gathered in neat formation, all watching as their peak lord demonstrated footwork technique and overhead slashes. It was only necessary to teach them properly as many of his disciples somehow managed to trip over each other's feet during the last demon attack.
Liu Qingge is mid-spin, blade raised for a final downwards strike when it happens. Cheng Luan clears the sheath, and begins to glow that familiar pink again.
“He’s so serious when he trains. So focused. I always wonder if he knows I stare at his hands. Probably not. I hope not.”
The voice rings clearly, echoing into the stunned silence that has settled over the disciples. One lets out a quiet gasp. Another almost drops their sword. Liu Qingge does not look at them. He doesn’t even stop moving. He completes the motion, forcing the blade down and burying the strike into the training post.
Then, smoothly and silently, he sheathes Cheng Luan. The pink vanishes. His hands curl tightly around the hilt, making his knuckles turn white. He slowly turns to face his disciples.
“Repeat.” He says, voice cold and flat.
None of the disciples move. One brave (or maybe dumb) disciple lifts their hand tentatively. “Was your sword just…speaking?”
“No.” Liu Qingge replies quickly, gritting his teeth.
“Did that not sound like…Peak Lord Shen’s voice?” He hears one disciple remark to another, voice hushed.
Liu Qingge turns his head to stare at them. They quiet immediately. “Thirty laps around the mountain.” He says sternly.
There are no protests. There never are. They scatter from the straight line they were standing in, scrambling into motion. The moment they are out of sight, Liu Qingge exhales through his nose loudly. Carefully, like it might explode, he unsheathes Cheng Luan just an inch.
Nothing. No glow. And no voice.
Still, he narrows his eyes. Shen Qingqiu…
-----
Later he is in his quarters. The sword rests on its rack. Liu Qingge sits on the floor beside it, cross-legged and arms folded. Cheng Luan has never shown signs of sentience before. It’s not a talking sword. It’s meant to be just a weapon.
And yet…
“He held me steady after No Cure acted up. His hands were warm. I said thank you, but I meant please don’t let me go.”
“He’s so serious when he trains. So focused. I always wonder if he knows I stare at his hands. Probably not. I hope not.”
Liu Qingge clenches his jaw. Those sentences have been burned into his mind. No Cure…even his disciple heard Shen Qingqiu’s voice. Could it be anyone else? It wouldn’t make sense. It had to be Shen Qingqiu’s voice, although it seemed softer, more…emotional than usual.
Which raises the horrifying possibility that someone, or something, is narrating these things in Shen Qingqiu’s voice. These things that are about him. Him and Shen Qingqiu. A brief thought passes through Liu Qingge’s mind.
Could it be Shen Qingqiu’s thoughts?
But…that can’t be right. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t think things like that. He’s smug. Vain. Excessively fond of tea and being self-sacrificial. He doesn’t…think things like this. He would never.
This had to be a curse. Something woven into Cheng Luan to…mess with Liu Qingge or something. It has to be. Maybe it was that creature he attacked. Was its blood cursed or something?
-----
The next time it happens, Liu Qingge isn’t alone.
He’s been ordered to a routine inspection of a minor sect that reported a strange flux in qi. He brings Shen Qingqiu because the man basically has a sixth sense for cursed objects that no one else ever seems to know about. Also, Liu Qingge does not want to be around any of the other peak lords. He doesn’t think they would be helpful.
Liu Qingge…tries not to think about Cheng Luan too much.
The mission goes smoothly. Just an old shrine left untended, qi buildup naturally dispersing. On the way back down the hill trail, Shen Qingqiu is muttering about how the townspeople really need to learn the basics of spiritual maintenance, when he trips over a root.
Liu Qingge catches him without thinking, grabbing onto his arm to steady him.
And then, Cheng Luan glows.
He doesn’t even notice until he sees Shen Qingqiu staring at his scabbard, eyes wide in confusion.
“I pretended I didn’t notice when he brushed my hand under the table. I thought if I stayed quiet, he wouldn’t pull away.”
Liu Qingge instantly lets go of Shen Qingqiu. He partially pulls Cheng Luan out before slamming it back into its sheath like that might shut it up. He glares at the blade. It does not stop glowing.
“Shut up.” He hisses under his breath.
Shen Qingqiu, meanwhile, is watching in horror because he just heard Cheng Luan say something in his own voice. Not just anything either. A ridiculous, unbelievable, 100% faulty statement about…Liu Qingge himself?
“Did Cheng Luan just…”
“No.” Liu Qingge said, grabbing Shen Qingqiu and dragging him along.
“Shidi…?”
“Shut. Up.” Liu Qingge muttered, but his ears are bright red and Shen Qingqiu can’t help but panic wondering exactly how long this has been going on? How long had Liu Qingge’s sword been impersonating Shen Qingqiu? Saying things like that?! Why was it saying things like that?!
-----
Liu Qingge does not allow Shen Qingqiu to ask any questions until they both return to Qing Jing. By now, it seems Liu Qingge has calmed down a bit, but now Shen Qingqiu seems all jittery.
What else has that damn sword said in my voice?
They both sit in Shen Qingqiu’s quarters, silence settling over them both. Shen Qingqiu takes a sip of tea, trying to calm himself down. It’s ok. Maybe this is some weird curse. But I don’t think PIDW had anything involving talking sword curses…
“You enchanted my sword.” In all honesty, Liu Qingge knew this wasn’t the case, but he needed an explanation on why this was happening in Shen Qingqiu’s voice.
Shen Qingqiu’s polite smile fades, and a confused expression plants itself on his face. He pauses and takes a small sip of his tea before putting down his teacup.
“Why in the Three Realms would I do that to Cheng Luan?”
“It talks.”
“I am aware. Is it…supposed to?” Judging by the look on Liu Qingge’s face…yeah, Cheng Luan is definitely not supposed to be doing all this. Shen Qingqiu narrows his eyes. “Did someone curse it?”
“Possibly…”
Shen Qingqiu picks up his teacup again, taking a sip while Liu Qingge contemplates for a moment. Cheng Luan, from where it rests on the table between them, starts to twinkle and speaks.
“He smiled at me after today’s sect meeting. I almost dropped my fan. God he is too handsome. Kill me before I embarass myself.”
Shen Qingqiu promptly spits out his tea and drops the cup, spilling tea everywhere. The shattered teacup lies in a puddle on the wood between them. Shen Qingqiu stares at it for a moment, stunned in silence.
Luckily, it seems Liu Qingge is also way too distracted by his sword to pay attention to Shen Qingqiu.
-------
It happens three days later.
They’re in the middle of a sect meeting. Everyone’s gathered. There are more people than usual: the peak lords, a few senior disciples, and a number of elders. It’s formal. Important. Everyone is listening respectfully as Yue Qingyuan speaks.
Then, Cheng Luan, resting by Liu Qingge’s side, begins to glow faintly. Shen Qingqiu notices first. He stares with a horrified expression behind his fan. Why the hell did Liu Qingge not leave that thing back at Bai Zhan????
Please no, not now. Not in front of everyone.
Too late.
“He looked good today. I hate how good he looks. What kind of man looks like that and still goes through his everyday life normally?”
Everyone. And I mean everyone goes still. Yue Qingyuan falters mid-sentences. Qi Qingqi drops her writing brush and Shang Qinghua whips his head around in Liu Qingge’s direction.
Liu Qingge looks like he’s about to throw Cheng Luan out a window. Shen Qingqiu prays he does. Apart from all this, half of the people in the room are also staring at Shen Qingqiu. It was his voice after all…
Like a bomb, whispers seem to erupt among everyone.
“Was that Shen-shixiong’s voice?”
“What did he say?”
“Did anyone else see Cheng Luan glow?”
“This happened a few days ago, I swear.”
There are people snickering at Liu Qingge, maybe Shen Qingqiu too, but he feels slightly guilty for what’s happening. It was his own voice coming from Cheng Luan after all.
Sorry shidi…it seems this keeps causing us some problems.
Yue Qingyuan, to Shen Qingqiu’s relief, adjourns the meeting almost immediately.
He and Liu Qingge are forced to stay behind and explain everything they know, or at least Liu Qingge talks while Shen Qingqiu bathes in a feeling of horror. Luckily, Yue Qingyuan seems to look relieved after the explanation and suggests that Liu Qingge doesn’t use Cheng Luan until the problem is solved.
Here that, shidi?! Stop torturing your poor shixiong like this…
-----
Shen Qingqiu laid in bed that night, both horrified and confused at what was happening. What was Cheng Luan even saying? In his own voice?
Finally, memory dawns.
One month ago. A night of celebration that had been forcibly brought upon Bhai Zhan Peak. A dozen peaks gathered, noisy and festive, full of jostling disciples. There was sweet peach wine. He remembered the wine well. He had too much of it. Sticky, and very fragrant. Shen Qingqiu, lonely and drunk, had slipped away, roaming hallways. He’d been whispering sweet nothings to a blank talisman that he found and pouring spiritual energy into it “just for venting purposes”. Just to let it all out. He had told it stupid things. Private things. Stuff no one was meant to know.
He had sealed the talisman and stuffed it away, but where had he put it?
…Oh no.
He remembers wandering around the peak, dizzy and directionless, ending up in Liu Qingge’s room for just a moment as he passed through a set of doors. He hadn’t realized what he was doing. He just wanted to be there for a moment. Just to feel close.
He remembers stumbling over to where Cheng Luan was.
He remembers shoving the talisman under Liu Qingge’s sword display stand before fleeing the area.
“Stupid sword,” he had muttered to himself. “You better protect him, or I’ll break you myself.”
He hadn’t meant it seriously. He hadn’t meant any of it to happen. It had been him being pathetic and weak to emotions.
Cheng Luan must have absorbed the talisman’s energy. Like a sponge.
Shen Qingqiu buries his face in his hands. Does this mean that the sword had been spouting this kind of stuff for the last month?! The blood drained from his face at the thought.
And Liu Qingge hadn’t mentioned any of it until Shen Qingqiu found out himself?! He had just tolerated it?
It wasn’t that he forgot or didn’t know of his own fondness for his shidi. It was that he had concealed it for long enough, using the excuse of peak lord responsibilities and transmigrator stress to disguise everything he felt as friendliness. He buried it away with other things: cultivator trauma, horrid plot arcs, and that one cursed fanfic he had found of PIDW that should never be mentioned again.
He did not get a wink of sleep that night.
-----
“I think he’d be better off without me. But I still hope he needs me.”
“I have only ever said that in my head. Sounds ridiculous outloud.” Shen Qingqiu muttered absentmindedly while flipping through a book, not noticing how Liu Qingge turned his head slowly to look at him.
They had been sitting in the library the day after Shen Qingqiu remembered his drunken fiasco. Shen Qingqiu had insisted they research how to solve the problem, although he knew exactly what type of book he would have to find in secret. Liu Qingge had brought Cheng Luan, maybe so they could fix the problem that very day.
They both sat on either side of the sword, and Shen Qingqiu didn’t realize what he had said until he noticed Liu Qingge staring at him with an unreadable expression.
“What?” Shen Qingqiu questioned, staring back down at the dim light of Cheng Luan.
“You…have thought that before?”
Shen Qingqiu feels his eyes widen as he realizes exactly what he just said.
“No!” But he knows the expression on his face is a dead giveaway. He’s panicked, his face hot as blush creeps up his neck.
“How much of what Cheng Luan says is true?” Liu Qingge interjects suddenly, his voice sharp.
Shen Qingqiu can only stare at him. He doesn’t answer. He never would. He couldn’t. He watched as Liu Qingge stood up, picking up Cheng Luan before walking out straight out of the library without a word. All he feels is a harsh tug at his heart as he looks back down at the book in his hands.
-----
The study is quiet. Shen Qingqiu sits rigidly at his desk, staring blankly at a half-written report. The brush in his hand hasn’t moved in the last ten minutes. His thoughts circle endlessly.
He hadn’t seen Liu Qingge in two days.
Not since that day, when Cheng Luan, still glowing that unforgivable shade of pink, had spoken in his voice:
“I think he’d be better off without me. But I still hope he needs me.”
The silence that followed had been terrible. Shen Qingqiu knew the expression on his face was far too obvious. He couldn’t play this off as a part of a curse because he knew deep in his soul that this was the one statement that had stuck with him, in the back of his mind, for years. He couldn’t even talk to his shidi afterwards.
Liu Qingge had said nothing, glancing between Cheng Luan and Shen Qingqiu before leaving without a word.
Shen Qingqiu hadn’t been able to do anything properly since.
Maybe he didn’t realize it before, but Liu Qingge’s name lived in the quietest parts of him, where even his own thoughts didn’t speak too loud for fear of waking the ache in him. It was not that he lacked the courage to love. It was that he had learned, too many times, that love could not stop people from leaving.
He drops the brush and rubs his hands over his face. His stomach twists at the memory. It had been just a talisman. Why did all this have to happen?
There is a knock at his door.
His heart pounds.
He doesn’t answer. He couldn’t even if he wanted to. He feels frozen to his seat.
The door opens anyway.
Liu Qingge steps inside. Shen Qingqiu rises automatically. He wants to say something, but the words catch in his throat. Liu Qingge says nothing either. He walks in, sets Cheng Luan down on the floor between them, and sits. The sword gleams faintly in the candlelight. Not pink this time. Not yet anyway.
Shen Qingqiu’s voice is hoarse when he finally speaks.
“...I’m sorry. I never meant for this to happen.” He cuts himself off so that he doesn’t say anything else. He can’t trust himself. He can’t trust his own words. Look what they caused so far.
Liu Qingge doesn’t look at him.
The silence stretches. Shen Qingqiu stares at Cheng Luan, not daring to move. Or even breath.
And then, the cruel thing begins to glow.
The voice is so…affectionate.
“Maybe I asked for too much. But I miss him so badly sometimes I start folding the napkins that come with his favorite pastries between his visits.”
Shen Qingqiu flinches. Liu Qingge’s jaw tightens. The sword continues…
“He said he’d meet me after the summit. I waited an extra hour. He didn’t come. It was fine…I said it was fine. I even smiled when I told him that the next day. But it wasn’t. I just didn’t want him to see how much I’d been hoping.“
That breaks something in him. He never remembered saying it to the talisman, but it was undeniably true. He remembered how the only reason he’d given up and gone back up the peak was because it had started raining. His legs give out and he sits down shakily on the floor across from Liu Qingge. He looks down at his hands, ashamed of how much they trembled.
“I didn’t mean for you to hear those things.” He says, voice barely audible. “It was just a talisman. I was drunk. I didn’t think the spiritual energy would…attach.”
Shen Qingqiu let out a quivering breath, fidgeting with the fan in his hands. He had loved in silence for so long that even the truth forgot how to speak.
“I didn’t want to burden you, shidi. I thought that if you knew, you’d look at me differently. That I’d make things…awkward. That you’d pity me.” Or worse. Throw me aside. That because of all this, I would ruin what I had with the one person I cared for the most.
He closes his eyes, not able to look at Liu Qingge. “I’m sorry…”
He expects Liu Qingge to be silent. Cold, maybe angry. He had caused so many problems for the man, made so many people talk about him and maybe even judged him because his sword was saying what Shen Qingqiu thought.
“I didn’t know you thought so little of me.”
Shen Qingqiu’s eyes snap open.
Liu Qingge is watching him. There is no hint of scorn in his voice. Instead, something heavier, like hurt.
“I don’t.” Shen Qingqiu says, panicked. “I — I didn’t mean —”
“You thought I’d hate you,” Liu Qingge cuts in. “Just for…liking me.”
Shen Qingqiu shuts his mouth. His throat aches, and he doesn’t know how to answer. Because he did think that Liu Qingge would hate him, even just a little bit.
“I wasn’t angry.” Liu Qingge says. “I was just…trying to understand how I didn’t notice.”
He looks at the sword between them, then back at Shen Qingqiu.
“I kept thinking about everything it said. Every word. I replayed them again and again in my head…they sounded like you. I didn’t…want it to be fake.”
Shen Qingqiu’s head shoots up, staring at Liu Qingge with wide eyes.
“And I realized,” Liu Qingge said, more quietly now, “I didn’t want them to stop. Even if they were fake.”
The silence is loud. Deafening.
Liu Qingge leans forward slightly, placing a hand over Shen Qingqiu’s trembling one.
“I don’t care how it got said. I care that it was all true.” He says quietly. “You’re a lot of things. But you’re not a burden. Not to me.”
Shen Qingqiu’s breath shakes.
“I was scared,” he whispers. “That I ruined everything.”
“You didn’t.” Liu Qingge says.
“And for the record,” he adds, his voice a bit softer, “folding pastry napkins…that was a bit ridiculous.
Shen Qingqiu lets out a tiny laugh. He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Liu Qingge wipes a tear away with his hand.
“That talisman was a disaster.” He says weakly.