Work Text:
Liu Qingge flies past the chaos of Bai Zhan. Below him, his disciples scream and yell, the clash of sharpened metal ringing out in the night. He ascends, higher and higher and higher. It is strange how as he ascends, the voices begin to dim. Though they had been inescapable below, it is mercifully quiet now.
It is not often that he comes to the very top of Bai Zhan. Hidden away by the clouds, it has always been imposing, looking down upon all of them. Despite that, he finds himself drawn to it. He lands with his usual efficiency, and looks to the sky above.
He is the peak lord of Bai Zhan— the War God of Bai Zhan. He holds power over this peak, is stronger than nearly every cultivator in the jianghu. Cang Qiong is prosperous, strong. His natal family still remains. He has all of the material wealth he could ever want. By all means, he lives a life that he should feel fulfilled by. But when he looks to the heavens, he wonders if there is something more that he is missing.
He does not know what it is. He looks up to dark velvet, gemstones studding the blanket that covers the world. Though it looks like a void, he knows that the sky and heavens above hold unimaginable depths. Beyond the earth that he is bound to, there is more. He wonders if what he is seeking is hidden away in those depths.
The amethyst petals of the wisteria surrounding him sparkle in the reflection of the stars. There is something about this clearing, filled with sparkling wisteria, that makes him feel whole, makes him feel complete. The branches sway, falling like water around him and parting in the warm wind.
The wind? Liu Qingge frowns. Something is wrong with the wind. The wind comes from the east, harsh and unforgiving with its wintry chill. But the wind that comes does not howl as it should. No, it whispers. It tenderly whispers with an accompanying warmth, one that speaks not of summer nor spring, but something else. And the direction of the wind— he looks up, unbelieving. He knows well that his senses cannot deceive him, and yet, he feels the wind blowing from above.
He catches sight of a shooting star, and a childish fantasy comes to mind. Against his rational thoughts, he closes his eyes and wishes.
Let me find what I seek.
When he opens his eyes after a brief moment, he suddenly shoots up. It was wrong to call it a shooting star— the star is falling. As it descends towards the earth, towards him, he realizes that this must be the cause of the warmth, the cause of the wind.
Something seizes in his gut. He has to catch it. He must. As it descends, the heat of the star burns. Despite the fire that threatens to spark, Liu Qingge runs towards the star. Just before he can, the sky explodes in a sea of shooting stars. They streak in the sky, blurs of golds and oranges and pinks staining the dark velvet of the sky. Despite the many others in the sky, his focus is only on the one he had seen. No other star could replace this one, no matter how bright or beautiful.
He reaches out, his fingertips just barely catching the burning heat of his star. He clutches onto the warmth of his star, desperate.
Let me find what I seek.
The wisteria around him shake, the frantic rustling of their branches urging him to open his eyes. There is a weight on his body. Heavy and warm. When he opens his eyes, he is met by the sight of a man.
He is unlike anyone that Liu Qingge has ever seen. No, he is not just anyone. Liu Qingge knows— this is his star, taken form and given movement. His star’s eyes are gentle, soft peach blossoms that look just as shocked as he is. His lashes, dark and thick, flutter. His dark eyebrows are strokes of ink delicately arched in surprise. His lips are petals, shaped delicately. His hair falls down, streaming onto Liu Qingge and surrounding him with a scent unlike anything of the earthen world. But what worries Liu Qingge the most is the way this star looks drained of any color, his face pale and ashen.
His face should be flushed with reds, stained with pinks that travel across his skin.
“Shen Yuan,” Liu Qingge says unconsciously. That seems right— though he’s never met this person in his life, he knows instinctively who this person is. No, how does he know that? As soon as he pursues that thought, the surety scatters. Before he can ask, the mysterious man’s eyes begin welling up with clear tears, threatening to spill down his face.
“Minghui,” the person calls with a wavering voice. The tears begin to spill, unrelenting. “I’ve found you. Gods, I’ve found you.”
“Don’t cry,” Liu Qingge automatically responds. “You told me…”
What did he tell him? Liu Qingge’s head splits open with the force of a pounding headache. How did his star become human? How does his star know him, know his name? He has not been called Minghui, not for decades. There is something slamming against his head, and he groans in pain.
“What— what’s happening?” Liu Qingge grits out, trying to clear the pain. “A qi deviation?”
He encourages his qi to flow, but nearly coughs blood at the searing pain that results from it. His star— Shen Yuan, A-Yuan— shushes him.
“Minghui, hush, my dear. It is not a qi deviation,” Shen Yuan comforts. Despite his panic, Liu Qingge instinctively relaxes. He focuses on Shen Yuan, unable to comprehend anything outside of pain and him. Shen Yuan smiles comfortingly, as he continues to speak lowly. “It’s my fault. Let me help you.”
Shen Yuan leans back. Confused, Liu Qingge tries to follow him— don’t leave, not again— and is pushed back by a single finger. Shen Yuan stands, and Liu Qingge can only watch as he flies to the largest wisteria. His heart seizes as the tree simply splits in half, its beautiful lavender petals instantly withering away into ash. Shen Yuan plucks something out of its remains and returns to him. He leans over.
“Sentimental fool,” Shen Yuan calls him with a look in his eyes. “Planting your memories of me, of us…”
Liu Qingge’s heart seizes, and Shen Yuan opens him palm to reveal a delicate bead, misty lavender smoke swirling inside the translucent orb. Shen Yuan presses it to his lips and coaxes him, “Minghui, you haven’t had them for long enough. Now, I’ll return them to you. So be good, hm?”
Liu Qingge swallows, hazily complying. He gasps suddenly at the heaviness in his chest, and he looks down to see Shen Yuan press something into his chest. It sinks into him and he thrashes, the sudden rush of pain hurting.
“What did you do?” He gasps out, clutching at his chest. It thuds in his chest, foreign and unknown, it hurts. He has never known pain like this, pounding and hammering so strongly it feels like his chest might burst open. Shen Yuan smiles gently at him, and he leans in close. Liu Qingge freezes in place.
“A heart is a heavy burden,” Shen Yuan breathes against him. Before Liu Qingge can even respond, he brushes their lips together in a gentle kiss. The fleeting kiss, the qi infused into it causes a flood of memories to rush into his mind, into his body.
When Shen Yuan rears back, Liu Qingge can only stare. Shen Yuan asks, “Do you remember?”
Liu Qingge answers with a kiss.
He remembers it all.
Many years ago, Liu Qingge had traveled to the peak of Bai Zhan. He had moved his gaze to the sky, fixating on a certain star. It was softer than any of its neighboring stars, but there was a brilliant radiance that had completely taken his attention.
The star had noticed his fixated gaze and accidentally fell from his perch in the heavens. As he descended towards the earth, Liu Qingge moved towards it, reaching out to catch it before it could skitter away and be tainted by the earth. He crashed down, the star being much heavier than he anticipated. As Liu Qingge’s gaze refocused, he saw not a star. The star had taken form— a peerless man, his gentle movements and his graceful demeanor completely enrapturing. It was no wonder then that Liu Qingge fell in love with his star (Shen Yuan, he had shyly introduced).
Over several clandestine meetings, stolen and breathless moments hidden from the all-knowing gaze of the moon, they had fallen deeper and deeper in love. Liu Qingge knew that no immortal should be able to hold a celestial being like he did— it was against the very being of nature, and yet, he refused to let that stop him.
Their love was not enough for the constellations to allow their union. Shen Yuan and his twin, Shen Jiu were the twin stars of spring. The constellations had been afraid that their immortal lover’s hearts would change, the heartbreak forever dimming their twinkling brilliance.
Despite their refusal, Liu Qingge did not, could not back down. Along with Shen Jiu’s immortal lover (Yue Qingyuan, he remembers with a jolt), they had both accepted a trial to prove their devotion. They had to seal their memories away, and allow their hearts to be removed. Only when the next star fall came could they reunite.
Shen Yuan had protested, but Liu Qingge stopped him with a gentle kiss. Shen Yuan had grieved, his tears streaking down his face.
“It’s not a farewell, but a promise. I will come back to you,” Liu Qingge promised. Shen Yuan’s tears dripped down onto his chest as he hesitated. Liu Qingge nodded, letting himself comb his fingers through his lover’s hair one last time. Shen Yuan carefully reached in, gently grasping Liu Qingge’s heart and lifting it out. Liu Qingge gasped at the cool feeling, the gaping chasm left inside. In his last moments of clarity, he kissed Shen Yuan once more. “Go, now. I love you, always.”
Shen Yuan bit his lip and disappeared, drifting back to his place in the heavens. Liu Qingge bit down the moan of pain as he pulled at the core of memories, freeing it from his mind. His emotional self, the man that had loved Shen Yuan enough to let him take his heart, was rapidly disappearing. But he knew that man wanted him to plant the memories. They would become a tree for Shen Yuan, guiding his beloved back to him when the stars fell once more.
He scrabbled at the ground, clawing a hole in desperation. When he finally placed the bead of memories in, covering it with dark earth, he collapsed, finally letting exhaustion claim him.
When he woke up, Liu Qingge could not remember why he was at the peak. All he knew was that there was something missing now, something he could not remember.
A sapling began to sprout from the earth, a promise and guide.
“A-Yuan, I’m sorry,” Liu Qingge breathes raggedly. He holds Shen Yuan close, breathing in the scent of his beloved star. He kisses him again, still unbelieving. “I forgot you, how could I…?”
“Fool. You know that wasn’t your fault,” Shen Yuan responds with a quivering voice. He leans into Liu Qingge’s chest, sweeping his hand over his chest. Liu Qingge quietly wipes the tears spilling from his lover’s eyes. His heart— his missing heart— beats strong, beats to make up for the years it’s been separated from him. Or perhaps his heart beats to make up for the years that Liu Qingge has been separated from his love.
“En. Still,” Liu Qingge insists. He takes Shen Yuan close, letting his star curl into him. Liu Qingge presses a kiss to his soft hair, gently carding his fingers through soft hair. It is nearly a mirror to all those years ago. “I told you. A promise to see you again. Not a farewell— never.”
“I know,” Shen Yuan shudders. He shivers in the cold, and Liu Qingge swiftly embraces him on instinct, shielding his lover from the chill. Shen Yuan slots perfectly into him, and Liu Qingge feels whole once more. He cannot help but grasp him tighter, winding his arms around him as if to affirm that he is truly there. “My love. I have never doubted you.”
Liu Qingge grunts in response, and flicks his eyes up. The bright stars streaking across the sky have long ended.
The gentle dawn, soft and warm, casts its golden veil over them.