Work Text:
Shen Jiu was going about his day normally, teaching his disciples and somewhat enjoying the cool breeze washing over his peak.
Then he turned, and saw the familiar figure of Yue Qingyuan standing at the edge of the path leading up to the bamboo house.
Shen Jiu groaned internally, then noticed something.
Yue Qi is smiling- as he always does.
But it's too...wide?
Strange.
Behind Shen Jiu, upon the green grasses he gets the disciples to take care of, sit three young children. One with braids woven with orange ribbons, one with a bun pulled into a hair crown, and the other with a mess of brown curls.
The braids belong to Ning Yingying, and Ying'er is currently doing her best to convince her "A-Luo" that he should let her practice braids on him. Ming Fan just sits nearby, picking at grass.
Shen Jiu scoffs, irritated at first with the little beasts presence, but he still allowed it.
He turned back to Yue Qi.
"Shen-Shidi," the smile again. "I was wondering if we could talk?"
Shen Jiu bristles like an angry cat, but assumes it's for some sect bullshit.
Something twists in his stomach.
"Yingying, Ming Fan, little beast."
His disciples look up instantly, chorusing "yes Shizun?"
"Ming Fan, take your Shidi and Shimei and go do something else." Shen Jiu keeps his fan over his lower face.
Ming Fan nods and bows, jerking his head for the other two to follow. They scurry away down the path, Ning Yingying almost tripping over a stray rock.
Shen Jiu reluctantly steps to the side, allowing his Shixiong to pass and enter the bamboo house.
Something twists again in his stomach. He wonders when the last time he ate was.
Shen Qingqiu doesn't bother to pour tea, preferring to just stand still in the middle of the entrance room as Yue Qi smiles.
It's too wide, so stretched and strange.
Then it falls into a guilty look, and Shen Jiu resists the urge to roll his eyes.
"Xiao-Jiu," the way he says it makes Shen Jiu freeze. "This Qi-Ge is sorry, so sorry-"
"Get out." Shen Jiu's fan trembles in his grasp.
"Xiao-Jiu!"
It snaps in half, splintering across the carpet. He'd have to ask Ming Fan to clean that up later.
"Get out, I won't bother listening to your pathetic apologies." Shen Qingqiu turns away, waiting for the steps of Yue Qingyuan to recede as they always do.
He hears nothing.
"Are you deaf Zhangmen-Shixiong, or are you ignoring m-" Strong arms wrap around him dragging him close to a larger figure.
His back slams against the man's chest, and Shen Jiu kicks and writhes.
"Oh Xiao-Jiu...surely you've missed this Qi-Ge?" The man behind him drawls.
Shen Jiu grasps Yue Qi's wrist, fingernails scraping over skin.
Unblemished skin.
His stomach drops.
When they were still filthy slaves, Yue Qi had leapt in front of a whip to protect Shen Jiu. Even when Shen Jiu had yelled at him, Qi-Ge had refused to properly bandage it. No matter how much Shen Jiu despised it, Yue Qingyuan had still not gotten rid of it to this day.
Shen Jiu always thought that was pathetic.
Now he wishes the scar was beneath his fingers.
"Little teeth..."
Shen Jiu freezes, and the man-who-is-not-Qi-ge pauses. His hands squeeze Shen Jiu closer, who is beginning to shake.
He tries to call for Xiu Ya.
Xiu Ya isn't moving.
His cultivation isn't working.
Little Teeth.
Only one person has ever called him that.
That person had been killed decades prior.
No.
No. No. No.
"Little teeth, surely you didn't think you could escape me? You still belong to me."
Shen Jiu raised his hand, scratching against the man's flesh until it left bubbling marks and droplets of blood.
"NO!!" He gasped, kicking and flailing as the man-who-is-not-Qi-ge let go to grab his face.
Shen Jiu took the opportunity to run for his fucking life. He yanks the door open, gasping for air as he lunges forward into a run. The man's fingers attempt to grab his hair, but they fall short by an inch.
Shen Jiu grabs the bottom of his trailing robes and begins sprinting for his life, adrenaline rushing through his blood as he hurtles down the staircase. The paths seem shorter as he hurls himself over stones and around statues, the man's footsteps echoing behind him.
They're getting closer.
'Run faster Shen Jiu.'
He runs, leg muscles straining and the pain in his sides getting stronger. His chest begins to burn and he's running out of air.
He enters the training field, students practicing their swords alongside the lower ranked teachers.
Shen Jiu can get to them- surely he can borrow a sword from there.
The-man-who-is-not-Qi-ge is catching up.
"Shizun!!?" A disciple yells out, watching the distant figure of Shen Jiu approach.
"Get back!!" Shen Qingqiu screams, hoarse from lack of air. His disciples look terrified.
Shen Jiu's hair is messed up and windswept, his eyes wide and full of terror.
He is running.
They have never seen their Shizun run before.
"Shizun, are you okay!?" Ning Yingying gets to her feet, and Shen Jiu feels fear rush through him. The man-who-is-not-Qi-ge must not hurt Yingying.
He hears the children gasp collectively -spread out as they are- at the sight of the sect leader sprinting after Shen Qingqiu.
Shen Jiu needs air.
He's only twenty feet away from the children. He has to protect them.
A hand, far too large, slams into his neck.
He crumples to the ground, dirt flying into his eyes as he skids to a stop. The man-who-is-not-Qi-ge presses him down, and the disciples scream out his name.
But they pause, confused at the Sect Leader's appearance.
Shen Jiu raises his exhausted head.
"ITS NOT YUE QINGYUAN!!"
One of the teachers screams for the disciples to get back.
Shen Jiu lies in the dirt, feeling the same as he did when the man did this last time.
He doesn't like being restrained.
Tears leak from his weary eyes. This man is the only one that has ever made him cry in pity for himself.
He hears a flare go off, bursting into a flaming lotus above the peak.
It's the highest form of emergency.
A peony is used if the disciples are in danger from an outer force.
A bamboo is used if a disciple or multiple are dead or critically injured.
A lotus is used if the Peak Lord is in danger or severely injured.
The disciples are shrunk back, sobbing for him as they hide behind the teachers.
"Where is Shen Qingqiu!?" A voice shouts, and Shen Qingqiu feels an immense amount of Qi fill the area.
"Shen- Zhangmen-Shixiong!?" Liu Qingge yells, hand clutched around his sword.
Shen Qingqiu feels others land, Qi Qingqiu's voice filling the area.
"How!? We just saw Zhangmen-Shixiong!"
He hears swords begin to lower, and he finds his voice.
"NO!!" Shen Jiu screams, in such terror that his martial siblings pause.
From what he can blurily see, they're gathered in a spread out line in front of the disciples, unsure what do do at their Shixiong pressed beneath the Sect Leader.
"Shen-Shixiong...?" Mu Qingfang sounds worried.
Then, Ning Yingying shoves herself forwards, "Shizun said that's not the Sect Leader- help him Shishu, please!!"
Another person lands.
"Xiao-Jiu! Are you oka-"
'Qi-Ge.'
Yue Qi does not have his sword.
He woke up in a random place on his peak, covered in dirt and mud. He had called his martial siblings to a meeting when a loud flare went off and they rushed to get to Qing Jing Peak.
He had prayed that his precious Xiao-Jiu would be okay.
He had not expected to see his own grinning face pressing Shen Jiu into the dirt.
Shen Jiu feels a burning situation in his scalp, and he is yanked to his knees by the man-who-is-not-Qi-ge.
Tears leak down his strained face, and the man stands up.
"Yue Qi," he begins, "I've heard so much about you. It seems like little Xiao-Jiu doesn't like you very much..."
He grins, all teeth. The peak lords themselves shiver.
"Let him go." Yue Qingyuan's voice is cold, and it booms across the peak like a microphone.
"Qi-ge..." Shen Jiu whispers, gazing at his martial siblings pleadingly.
Yue Qingyuan knows that his Shen Jiu would never cower beneath anyone.
Not even on his death bed.
So why is he so terrified?
Why is he staring at Yue Qingyuan with such desperation?
The other peak lords are panicked, clutching their swords- too scared to risk Shen Qingqiu's life by attacking.
They may not like the man, but nobody gets to hurt a member of Cang Qiong.
They will protect their own.
And no-one, absolutely no-one has the right to drag a peak lord by the hair.
They've never seen Shen Jiu so vulnerable and scared.
"Yue Qi- hear me out. Why don't you...give up your own little life for his? I'm sure little Teeth here won't mind." The-man-who-is-not-Qi-ge calls out, gesturing towards Yue Qingyuan.
"QIU JIANLUO!!" Shen Jiu screams, thrashing in the man's grasp. Who is Qiu Jianluo? They wonder.
Qiu Jianluo leers down at him, grabbing Shen Jiu and pulling him closer.
The peak lords all lunge forward a step, but stop when Qiu Jianluo pauses.
The creep stares straight into Yue Qingyuan's eyes.
He holds the flailing Shen Jiu tighter, and presses their lips together.
Everyone freezes, and Shen Jiu is suddenly thrown backwards.
"Wow little Teeth! You've still got it- I thought you became less of a little whore, but it seems you're still the same."
Yue Qingyuan is white as a sheet, shaking in rage as the others remain frozen in horror.
They expect him to get up, to use that flaming tongue of his to cut the creep in half.
Shen Jiu slumps down, lying amongst the dirt and filth as Qiu Jianluo laughs.
"A slave is always a slave." He leans down, grabbing Shen Jiu's hair again and dragging the man upwards.
Liu Qingge's shoulders slump at the tears running down Shen Jiu's face.
Wei Qingwei almost collapses against Mu Qingfang.
Qiu Jianluo grabs the collar of Shen Qingqiu and yanks, ripping it down the middle.
Shen Jiu shakes in terror.
A mark lies square between Shen Jiu's shoulders, in the middle of his back. It's shaped almost like a particularly large huadian mark, except it's blistered and dark.
It's a slave mark.
Qiu Jianluo just cackles, letting Shen Jiu fall again, head crashing against the ground.
"AGHHHH!!!" A hand raises against Qiu Jianluo, who slams a Qi filled palm against it- sending the attacker back ten feet. Yue Qingyuan rises after scraping through dirt, fury etched in all his features as he lunges forward again.
"Zhangmen-Shixiong!!" Qi Qingqi grabs one of his arms, Liu Qingge grabbing the other.
"The bastard will only hurt Shen Qingqiu more!" Liu Qingge growls, and Yue Qingyuan freezes, lowering himself onto his knees in devestation.
Qiu Jianluo nudges Shen Jiu pitifully with his foot.
"Two peas in a pod. Qi and Jiu. Isn't it such a cute story? I always thought I preferred the pretty maidens." He smirks.
"But what does my mother know? She just kept sending them, their curves so pretty, reeking of sweet scents. They were so old."
Qiu Jianluo wipes his mouth, eyes scanning the people listening.
"Boys will be boys. They said I wanted the girls- the ones with curves, but I prefer..."
He looks down at Shen Jiu, seeing not a man- but the twelve year old he remembered so clearly.
"The ones without."
Yue Qingyuan puts his head in his hands, sobs wracking from his throat.
Liu Qingge rushes forward, sword raised as he howls.
Qiu Jianluo grabs Shen Jiu, smoke billowing around him as he disappears in a flash.
The peak lords rush around, desperately searching for their missing one.
Shen Jiu sobs into his arms as Qiu Jianluo simply laughs.
---
Yue Qingyuan's point of view.
The flare had bloomed above the peaks like a wound opening in the sky.
Lotus-red, brilliant, impossible.
Yue Qingyuan had run before thought could catch up, the others calling after him, swords flaring as they followed. His mind supplied only one image, Shen Jiu’s face, annoyed and alive, framed in the morning mist. Nothing else fit.
Then he saw it—the field below Qing Jing Peak, disciples scattered, the air heavy with smoke and fear. And in the centre, himself.
His own face.
His own hands, pressed against the back of the man he loved.
Shen Jiu’s robes torn by dirt, his eyes wide with something Yue Qingyuan had never been able to name in all the years they’d known each other.
For one wild heartbeat, Yue Qingyuan thought he’d gone mad again, that this was the punishment he’d earned, to watch his body do what his nightmares always accused him of.
He heard Shen Jiu scream someone's name—not the soft "Qi-ge" of childhood, but a ragged, animalistic cry—and the world tilted. It was full of rage and fear mixed together. H had never seen Xiao-Jiu like this. He wanted to move, to shout, to tear the imposter away, but his limbs locked. He’d never seen Shen Jiu run. He’d never seen him plead.
This man wearing his face is someone who Shen Jiu is afraid of.
The other peak lords’ voices blurred into noise. Somewhere someone was shouting orders, somewhere the disciples were sobbing. All Yue Qingyuan could see was the tiny tremor in Shen Jiu’s fingers as he reached toward him, the way his mouth shaped the word help and then couldn’t finish it.
And when the double vanished with him in a spill of smoke, the silence that followed was absolute.
Yue Qingyuan’s knees hit the dirt. It felt wrong that it didn’t hurt more.
He stared at the handprints ground into the earth, one small, one large, and realized they matched his own.
If he closed his eyes, he could still feel the ghost of that grip—his fingers tightening on Shen Jiu’s shoulder, the weight of his own imagined cruelty.
He had wanted to protect Shen Jiu so desperately that the heavens had given him this mirror. Here, they seemed to whisper. See what protection becomes in your hands.
When the others tried to pull him up, Yue Qingyuan didn’t move. The world was too loud and too bright. His body shook with a sound that barely reached his own ears.
He pressed his forehead to the ground where Shen Jiu had fallen and whispered, hoarse and useless,
"I'm here, Xiao-Jiu. I’m here. I swear I’ll find you."
But the dirt stayed silent, and the lotus in the sky burned itself out.