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In this whole miserable world, there was only one person who truly cared about Shen Jiu— and now, that person was gone.
He’d learned from a young age that the world was cruel, and the people in it even more so. Once in awhile, there might be an exception, but those exceptions were as fragile and fleeting as a butterfly’s wings. Yue Qi had been the one to stay around the longest, but even he had disappeared in the end.
After a year trapped in the Qiu household, Shen Jiu had begun to accept that Yue Qi wasn’t coming back. The young master made it clear that he was never going to be permitted to leave, and escape was likewise impossible— this wretched life was all that remained for him, slogging through one day after another until eventually he breathed his last.
He had always been miserable, and he always would be. There was no reason to indulge false hope.
But then, one day, something altogether unexpected happened.
It was an afternoon in early autumn when a strange youth arrived at the manor gates. He was fairly tall, dressed in robes woven from shimmering golden thread and wearing a bamboo hat on his head with a sheer veil covering his face. At his waist was a finely-crafted longsword, and he carried himself with an ethereal bearing, his steps almost seeming to float above the ground. The moment Shen Jiu saw him, he had no doubt that this must be an immortal from the spiritual mountains.
The Qiu family had no dealings with the cultivation world, at least as far as he knew. Neither Qiu Jianluo nor his sister had any spiritual talent to speak of, and this was the first time Shen Jiu had ever seen someone like this before. It was only natural for him to be interested— so he tried his best to listen in while going about his work, hoping to catch a few snippets of the newcomer’s conversation with the gate guards without making his interest too obvious.
“… your family’s young master…?”
“… returning later… message…”
“Ah, I see… Oh!”
Suddenly, Shen Jiu heard a set of footsteps briskly approaching, and raised his head just in time to see that young cultivator brush the veil aside from his face…
A face that looked strikingly similar to his own.
“You’re Shen Jiu, aren’t you?” the youth asked.
The gate guards seemed ready to protest, starting to move forward— but when he simply raised his hand, they stopped in their tracks, not daring to get any closer.
Shen Jiu’s tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth.
How did this person know who he was?
Even if he had been able to speak, he wouldn’t have dared to do so— but he slowly, warily nodded his head.
The youth lifted up a closed folding fan, resting the tip of it against his chin as he looked Shen Jiu up and down. Shen Jiu stiffened, shivering slightly under the scrutiny, though the usual malice seemed to be absent.
“Ha… no wonder he thought that…” the youth muttered half to himself. “It really is uncanny.”
“Xianshi, there’s no need to speak to that boy,” one of the gate guards finally spoke up, shifting uneasily in place but still not approaching directly. “I’m sure it won’t be long until the young master returns, you can meet with him then.”
At that, a frown appeared on the young cultivator’s face, and he released Shen Jiu from his gaze to turn to face the gate guards, who had since come a few steps closer. Then, unexpectedly, he stepped a little closer to Shen Jiu, positioning himself firmly between the boy and the gate guards.
Shen Jiu wasn’t exactly sure what was happening. It almost seemed like this cultivator was trying to protect him… but why?
“As a matter of fact, I don’t need to meet him anymore. I’ve already found what I need,” the youth replied to the guards, then turned to Shen Jiu. Without any further explanation, he held out his hand and said, “Come with me.”
Shen Jiu was dumbstruck.
This had to be some kind of dream.
He lifted his hand, hesitating— what was the catch?
“You can’t just take that boy! The young master will—”
“If your young master has a problem, then he can take it up with Huan Hua Palace,” the youth cut the guard off before he could finish speaking. “This boy is my younger brother— so I’m taking him with me whether you like it or not.”
Then, he flicked his fingers, and his sword leapt from its sheathe. Before Shen Jiu had the chance to process what was happening, he’d been caught by the sleeve and pulled over to stand atop the flying sword along with the young cultivator. The next thing he knew, they were fifty meters above the ground. The Qiu manor below looked like a model made of clay, and the guards, as shocked as Shen Jiu himself was, were nothing more than ants as they scattered pathetically across the courtyard.
It was only now that Shen Jiu recovered his voice.
“Who do you think you are? What are you trying to do?!” he practically shouted, his voice cracking as his eyes went wide and he tried to pull his sleeve away— only to remember that he was in the sky, and couldn’t afford to fall.
The youth snapped open his fan to hide a smile. “Didn’t you want to get out of there?” he asked.
Shen Jiu closed his mouth, biting his lip.
It was true, he did. More than anything, he’d wanted to leave that place behind, but he just never had the chance to do so, never had someone to effortlessly fly him over the walls like this…
This was exactly what he’d hoped for— except that he’d thought it would have been Qi-ge swooping in to save him, not some stranger.
“… Where are you taking me?” he asked, then, a little calmer.
“Cang Qiong Mountain,” the youth replied.
“But… you said Huan Hua Palace.”
Shen Jiu didn’t know much about the cultivation world, but he’d heard things in passing— if nothing else, he knew the names of the major sects. Why would someone from Huan Hua Palace come to get him, then take him to Cang Qiong Mountain instead?
As if in answer to his questions, the flying sword descended to deposit them amid a grove of trees. The youth then gave Shen Jiu another slight smirk, and shed his outer robe, revealing another uniform beneath it— this one in various greys and far more utilitarian.
“I lied,” the youth said.
Shen Jiu blinked once as he was handed another similar set of clothes.
“Change into these. It’ll hide your scent if they bring out dogs to look for you. We wouldn’t want to break the ruse, would we?”
This was all too much to take in. Shen Jiu shook his head. “I don’t understand,” he said, at last, his tongue feeling strange in his mouth. “Who are you anyway? Why would you come to take me away? It doesn’t make sense.”
Unless that part about being his brother was true… but that wouldn’t make sense either. He was sold off when he was very young, and had spent his early childhood carted around by slavers before being bought by Qiu Jianluo. If somehow he did have an older brother, how would he have found him?
“My name is Shen Yuan,” the youth replied. “You have some talent for cultivation, don’t you? So, why shouldn’t I take you to Cang Qiong Mountain? Now, come on— I’d like to get back before nightfall.”
This Shen Yuan really didn’t want to be forthcoming, did he? Shen Jiu felt a little suspicious, but it wasn’t like he had any reason not to go along with this. He changed his own outer layers, tossing aside the clothes that Qiu Jianluo had given him into a bush near the riverbank. It felt a little exhilarating, almost freeing to cast them aside and climb back on top of that sword, taking off once more into the sky.
They managed to reach the immortal mountains just before dusk, passing through a dense bank of clouds that parted like a curtain to reveal towering stone peaks dotted with pavilions and terraces interspersed between groves of bamboo and white pine. Clouds swirled about the mountaintops and brightly-plumaged birds soared from peak to peak, their songs filling the air.
It felt like something out of a story. Shen Jiu pinched himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming— but somehow, this place actually existed in reality.
Shen Yuan landed atop the tallest of the mountain’s peaks, then motioned for Shen Jiu to follow him. Shen Jiu tried his best not to reveal the unsteadiness in his legs, unused to doing things like flying on a sword as he followed the other boy up a path that led toward a magnificent hall of carved wood and gleaming white stone, before turning off onto a smaller path through the surrounding forest.
As they followed the path, a quiet, nearly-strangled hope slowly rose back up within Shen Jiu’s heart.
He’d always been careful to make sure no one saw him practicing immortal magic. Aside from Qiu Jianluo, there was only one person who knew he had that kind of talent… someone he’d been sure he would never see again.
“Yue-shixiong!” Shen Yuan called out when they’d reached the end of the path.
Up ahead, seated atop a large stone that overlooked the valley below, was a familiar figure— but instead of being dressed in dirty rags, he wore pure white robes. Instead of a thin, hunger-wracked frame, he was tall and his shoulders were broad and muscular.
Despite the differences in appearance, though, Shen Jiu recognized him the moment he saw him.
Shen Jiu, of course, greeted his old friend in a perfectly respectable manner.
He definitely did not break into a run as soon as he saw him. He definitely did not throw his arms around Yue Qi’s shoulders and squeeze tightly, refusing to let go for at least several minutes. And he absolutely did not cry. The redness around his eyes must have been because of the change in altitude, and the dampness on his cheeks was surely because it must have started raining, even though the skies were clear and bright.
Yue Qi had made it after all.
As it turned out, he’d done quite well too— even making it into Cang Qiong Mountain’s first-ranked peak. He’d meant to go back for Shen Jiu as soon as he could, only to discover that disciples were not permitted to leave the mountain unaccompanied until they’d obtained their spiritual swords. Yue Qi had spent the past year in feverish cultivation, striving to reach a goal that could take five or more years, even for incredibly talented disciples with perfect backgrounds.
One day, after spending a few sleepless nights cultivating atop the highest peaks, Yue Qi had come back down on shaky legs to get some rest and something to eat when he’d come face to face with Shen Yuan. Between his exhaustion and their similar looks, Yue Qi had initially mistaken him for Shen Jiu and rushed forward to meet him with a barrage of questions, ecstatic that Shen Jiu had found a way to escape and come to Cang Qiong Mountain— only to realize when he got close that he had the wrong person.
That might have been the end of it, but Shen Yuan was a curious and persistent sort of person, and ended up whittling the story out of him.
Upon hearing Yue Qi’s plight, Shen Yuan, who had recently obtained his own sword, had decided to take matters into his own hands, without telling Yue Qi what he planned to do until that very day when he showed up on Cang Qiong Mountain with Shen Jiu in tow.
When Shen Jiu finally managed to detach himself from Yue Qi enough to speak, he promptly informed him about the brazen nature of Shen Yuan’s rescue, his whole farce of pretending to be from Huan Hua Palace, pretending that the two of them were brothers. Yue Qi was just as stunned as Shen Jiu himself, but Shen Yuan merely shrugged, brushing aside the thought of potential consequences.
“Most of Huan Hua Palace’s disciples come from important families,” he said, “so they probably won’t bother looking for you there. If they do, of course they won’t find you— and then it’ll be much too late.”
Just because it was logical didn’t mean that it was any less shocking.
“Xiao-Yuan, you have to be more careful,” Yue Qi chided— in the same kind of voice that he would use to chide Shen Jiu back when they were younger.
This made Shen Jiu a bit annoyed.
“If he gets himself in trouble, that’s his own problem,” he snapped, shooting a glare at Shen Yuan.
Still, he would at least be a little bit polite. After all, Shen Yuan had gotten him out of Qiu Jianluo’s hands. Even if Shen Jiu didn’t understand why he would care… why he’d go through all that trouble. He had no reason to, and yet as far as Shen Jiu could tell, there wasn’t any kind of clear ulterior motive, aside from maybe getting in Qi-ge’s good graces…
No matter what, he certainly didn’t believe that Shen Yuan had done something like that out of the kindness of his heart.
“So… why did you bother?” he asked.
Shen Yuan paused, glancing at Yue Qi, then back at Shen Jiu. “Supposedly, your spiritual talent was even greater than Yue-shixiong’s. If that was the case, then you surely had to be brought to Cang Qiong Mountain before it was too late,” he explained, shrugging his shoulders. “Besides doing a favor for Yue-shixiong, I was also thinking about the future of our sect.”
It was… a surprisingly reasonable explanation.
Shen Jiu’s mind was still reeling from the day’s events, and he hadn’t considered the possibility his own good fortune might also benefit others. Humans almost always acted in their own self-interest— the idea that someone might show kindness without gaining something for themselves was a myth at best, a deliberate deception more often. It just so happened that this time, what benefited Shen Jiu also benefited others.
Knowing this made Shen Jiu release the breath he was holding. The pretense of kindness had him on edge— but if it was a strategic decision, then that was much easier to understand.
When they arrived at Qiong Ding Hall, the sect leader and his second-in-command were already there, discussing some matters together. Shen Yuan introduced Shen Jiu this time as a distant relative of his, who had been left without family to support him, and requested that his aptitude for cultivation be tested. Shen Jiu, though once again surprised by his demeanor, was grateful that he didn’t have to explain anything about his own past. Shen Yuan clearly came from a well-off family— you could tell by his mannerisms— and to be associated with that instead of his true past would no doubt make things easier for him.
He’d always known he had some talent, but he hadn’t realized just how much as it was until that day when, after completing the cultivation assessment, both the sect leader and his second in command began to argue over which of them should get to take him as their disciple. In the end, Qing Jing Peak’s Yan Zhaoying simply stated, “You already have Yue Qi— and it seems like those two know each other well. Let me take him.”
The sect leader contemplated her statement, and then ceded the argument— much to the confusion of the youths standing nearby, who were unaware that Yue Qi had already been scouted as a potential head disciple, and that Yan Zhaoxiang had long been seeking a successor of her own.
Thus, Shen Jiu joined Qing Jing Peak and stepped onto the path of cultivation— and to think that he’d woken up that very morning thinking that he had nothing to look forward to in life but a beating before the day’s end!
It wasn’t easy to adjust to this new life of his. Each afternoon, once lessons and chores were finished, he would wander aimlessly back and forth, unsure of what to do with himself, now that he was his own person instead of some thing at a cruel master’s beck and call. Talking with his peers was out of the question— he didn’t really like them anyway, just because he didn’t really like anyone— and there was only so much time he could spend in a day trying to master meditation.
Fortunately, Yue Qi was there to help. He would come by every day to fetch Shen Jiu and take him on tours of the mountain, showing him all of the magnificent sights and the best places for cultivation. Many times, Shen Yuan would be there— often with some kind of cute, docile little beast at his side.
Shen Yuan… he was probably one of the strangest people that Shen Jiu had ever met. On one hand, he was a little jealous of him, of his background, of the fact that he would spend time with Qi-ge. On the other, he was just as easy to get along with as Shen Jiu was difficult, and he was plenty talkative compared to Shen Jiu’s awkward reticence punctuated with the occasional snappish remark. A year older than Shen Jiu and two years younger than Yue Qi, he easily filled the space, muffling the awkwardness that had grown between them in the year they’d spent apart.
Shen Jiu definitely didn’t like him, but he also didn’t hate him— and there were precious few people he didn’t hate, so it was a start.
Qi-ge seemed to think that Shen Yuan was a good person, and someone trustworthy. Shen Jiu didn’t trust him just yet— but more than that, it just felt strange. For someone to treat him kindly for no real reason, to show friendliness, to act like they were on the same level instead of trying to beat Shen Jiu down beneath him— especially someone who was almost certainly a rich young master from a good family.
It didn’t feel bad, but it was so strange and unfamiliar that Shen Jiu felt… uncomfortable.
The more he thought about this, the more difficult it was to spend time around Shen Yuan, so he avoided him, running off to find Yue Qi and demand his attention before Shen Yuan could do the same. After all, Yue Qi was nearing a critical point in his cultivation— he would soon be partaking in the sword trials. Shen Jiu needed to keep watch over him and make sure he didn’t do anything impulsive and get himself into trouble. He didn’t have time to focus on whatever Shen Yuan really wanted from him.
A part of him wished that Shen Yuan would just get it over with and do something horrible. That way, Shen Jiu could just hate him. It would be much easier to hate him than to deal with this strange mixture of jealousy, gratefulness, and resentment that he felt now.
Then, one night, things began to change.
It had been around two months since Shen Jiu first came to Cang Qiong Mountain. He had adjusted well enough by now, at least in some ways. His cultivation was progressing swiftly, and studying the four arts wasn’t as unpleasant as he’d feared either. Though he still didn’t particularly like practicing calligraphy, at least he wasn’t beaten if he wrote a stroke backwards, and he actually enjoyed painting. Not to mention, he was good at it— even his Shizun, who was usually reserved with her praise, would tell him so. As strange as it felt to receive compliments and encouragements, it was also rather nice.
But no matter how encouraging his shixiong could be, or how different things were now than they had been before, he still couldn’t shake off all of those habits and fears that had long been ingrained into his mind and body. There were still some ways in which he hadn’t managed to adjust.
The most difficult thing by far was sleep.
Qing Jing Peak’s disciples slept in shared dormitories. Each of them had his own little room, with a bed to sleep in, a chest to store his things, and a low table and stool to sit at— and Shen Jiu might have found such things quite luxurious if it weren’t for the fact that the rooms were divided only by screens in curtains. He found that he could hardly tolerate spending time here in the day, let alone at night when he would simply lie on his back with every muscle in his body drawn tight, staring up at the ceiling beams and flinching at every little sound.
There was no way he could relax, and sleepless night after sleepless night led him to become more irritable and more drowsy, to the point where he could hardly focus, and almost fell asleep a few times during lessons, jolting awake just before his head landed in still-drying ink.
Eventually, he gave up trying to sleep in the dormitory. Instead, he spent most nights wandering around the peak. Sometimes he managed to find an out-of-the-way corner to curl up in for a few hours. Though sleeping outside gave rise to its own worries, it was still more bearable.
One of those nights, he was feeling particularly exhausted and lonely, and as he wandered beneath the moonlight, a thought managed to escape from the back of his mind and slowly wriggle up to the front— wouldn’t it be nice to go curl up next to Qi-ge to get some sleep instead? It would surely be more comfortable. As he thought this, his steps involuntarily carried him toward Qiong Ding Peak, and he was already halfway up the stairs toward the disciples’ dormitories by the time he came to his senses.
Even though there wasn’t a rule against it, and even though Yue Qi had given him the password to his dormitory, who knows how the other Qiong Ding Peak disciples might react if he just showed up in the middle of the night like this?
Besides that, it would be far too embarrassing if they happened to learn the real reason why he was here… it would be better just to go back and sleep in the bamboo thickets again, or maybe the library.
As he crossed over the rainbow bridge, though, his mind already turning bleary with sleepiness again, he heard a now-familiar voice call out.
“Shixiong, what are you still doing up so late?”
Damn it… why did that Shen Yuan have to have such sharp eyes?
Shen Jiu glanced up, seeing the older boy approaching atop his sword from Yuan Guang Peak a short distance away.
“I could ask you the same thing,” he replied.
Shen Yuan pointed toward the sky. “Look.”
Among the wisps of cloud that wreathed Yuan Guang Peak’s summit, beneath the full moon’s glow, a trio of birds were slowly circling upward. Their wings were spread wide, and their long tail feathers trailed like silvery ribbons behind them.
Shen Jiu glanced at Shen Yuan, tilting his head. “You’re… watching birds?”
“Silver-Tailed Lunar Pheasants,” Shen Yuan replied. “They only pass by here twice a year, during their migration season, you know?”
Shen Jiu, of course, did not know, but he didn’t admit that.
There was something fascinating, seeing such rare creatures. Or maybe he was just tired, and it was a little soothing to watch the birds whirling elegantly across the night sky.
Shen Yuan’s voice broke the silence. “Follow me, I’ll show you the nesting sites.”
He took hold of Shen Jiu’s sleeve once again and pulled him atop his sword, giving the boy little chance to protest as they flew up the peak. A tranquil grove of trees crowned the summit, with grasses growing densely around their bases. Shen Yuan brushed the grasses aside to find a long, thin feather that shone like the light of the moon itself. He held it up, showing it to Shen Jiu.
“Look— they’ve shed their old feathers here. That’s why I’m still awake,” he explained. “These tail feathers are very valuable, and can be used to make spiritual tools— but we can only collect them after the birds leave. I came up here to watch, so that I could gather them before the wind blew any away. Here.”
He handed the feather to Shen Jiu, who turned it over and over in his hands, frowning slightly. “Don’t tail feathers grow back?” he asked. “Why wouldn’t you just catch some of those birds and keep them here? That way, you could pluck a feather whenever you need one.”
“That’s true,” Shen Yuan replied, “but— look at them.”
The birds wove through the skies in a dance almost mesmerizing. The largest one took the lead, its impressive wingspan sheltering the other two beneath it. The other two traded places back and forth, with the middle one leading the way across the rippling wind currents, before falling back behind to watch the smaller, a high, clear call of encouragement resounding through the night sky.
“It’s better to let them fly free,” Shen Yuan said. “Trying to pluck the feathers would just make them hurt and frightened, and trying to catch them might scare them away forever. But if they feel safe here, they’ll come back to rest during their migration. While they’re here, the summit is off-limits so that we don’t disturb them. Now that they’ve taken off, though, we can gather the feathers— and they’ll come back again in the spring.”
Shen Yuan gathered up the remaining shed feathers, then glanced at Shen Jiu with a slight tilt of his head.
“I suppose you’re not here for bird-watching,” he noted.
Shen Jiu didn’t respond.
“It’s a little late to go back to the dormitories, isn’t it?” Shen Yuan went on. “I was just made head disciple recently, so I have a whole house of my own now. It’s comfortable, and there’s even an extra room. Why don’t you just come back and stay there for tonight?”
And that was how Shen Jiu spent his first night at Shen Yuan’s house.
He had no idea when things had changed, but at some point, Shen Jiu had stopped seeing Shen Yuan as a threat. He was no Qi-ge, but he’d never done anything to harm him, never weaponized his past— but Shen Jiu was too tired now to think too deeply about it. He simply nodded in agreement, accepting the folded blanket that Shen Yuan offered him before curling up on the simple bedroll on the floor of a room that was even smaller than his own back on Qing Jing Peak.
He woke up the next morning, feeling more well-rested than he had in who knows how long. It was only then that he recalled the conversation from the night before, and put two and two together. He exited the side room with a scowl on his face, blanket in his arms as he glared at Shen Yuan, who was sipping tea at a low table in the main room.
“I’m not a bird, you know,” he snapped.
Shen Yuan looked up. “Maybe not— but it still worked.”
Then, he yelped and ducked down as Shen Jiu threw the rolled-up blanket directly at his head with a surprising amount of force.
He spent the next few days sulking and avoiding Shen Yuan even more than before, but eventually confessed what had happened to Yue Qi— who seemed all too delighted that Shen Jiu and Shen Yuan were “getting along.” That only made him even more sulky.
Later on, Shen Yuan would tell him that he could always come back to stay the night if he wanted to. Shen Jiu insisted it wasn’t necessary— but somehow, he ended up back there several more times, which turned into Shen Yuan joining him in camping outside of the Lingxi Caves while Yue Qi was inside establishing his foundation. Not long after, Shen Yuan and Yue Qi did the same when it was Shen Jiu’s turn to complete his sword trial.
Shen Jiu would have never expected that he could become close to someone else— and yet, as time went on, he began to see Shen Yuan as someone he could trust. Someone who would help him, who would protect him and keep his secrets… not all that different from Qi-ge. They didn’t always get along— sometimes, the two would get into spats over inconsequential things, or their sparring sessions would start looking too much like a real fight. That, of course, would be when Yue Qi had to step in and separate them like a pair of cats that had unsheathed their claws while playing. Shen Yuan once called him “Xiao-Jiu” and he was lucky to escape without any broken limbs— but Shen Jiu would never have admitted that he’d called him “Yuan-ge” if both of them hadn’t been there to hear it.
Even without saying anything aloud, though, it became obvious that the worldview Shen Jiu once held no longer fully applied.
Maybe there was more than one person who cared for him in this world after all.
Maybe there were two.