Work Text:
Every day was the same.
The same places.
The same faces.
The same routine.
Shen Jiu would wake up, eat scraps, attend Qiu Haitang, avoid Qiu Jianluo as best as he could, try to be a good slave and still get beat by Qiu Jianluo.
Occasionally there was a deviation; an outing outside the estate or a kind chef sneaking him some extra food.
But it always started the same and it always ended the same.
-
Every day was the same.
The same places.
The same faces.
The same routine.
Shen Qingqiu would wake up, drink tea, attend meetings, avoid Yue Qingyuan as best as he could, teach his students and take part in night hunts.
Occasionally there was a deviation; a meeting too annoying or a demon a bit stronger than usual.
But it always started the same and it always ended the same.
-
Qiu Jianluo’s blood pierced his skin.
The sin stained at his hands and no matter how much Shen Jiu tried to scrub it away, it stayed.
His hands smelled rotten.
He wasn’t evil for killing him.
It was Qiu Jianluo’s fault.
It was his fault for treating Shen Jiu like that, like a sturdy doll that couldn't feel, that could take and take and take without bursting.
But Shen Jiu wasn’t a doll.
-
Luo Binghe’s blood coated his skin.
Shen Qingqiu rinsed his hands and the blood easily washed away.
His hands smelled of nothing.
He wasn’t evil for hurting him.
It was Luo Binghe’s fault.
It was his fault for-…
…
What did Luo Binghe do?
He respected Shen Qingqiu. He treated his peers fairly. He tried his best.
He never did anything wrong.
He simply…
Existed.
He simply…
Reminded Shen Qingqiu of someone.
Yes.
He reminded Shen Qingqiu of another child. A long-lost child that still haunted his nightmares. A child who was determined, who was patient, who waited. A child who Shen Qingqiu wanted to bury.
Why did Luo Binghe have to be so similar to Shen Jiu?
And why couldn’t Shen Qingqiu just let him be?
Why did he have to snuff out his life, just like his life had been snuffed?
Maybe it was jealousy. Maybe it was the idea that someone so similar to him was capable of having a better life than him. Maybe it filled Shen Qingqiu with an indescribable amount of rage (and sadness).
Maybe he needed to lash out against someone. Luo Binghe was like Shen Jiu. Shen Jiu was a perfect target so that meant Luo Binghe was a perfect target too.
Maybe…
Maybe Shen Qingqiu was just evil; haunted by Qiu, ruined by Qiu. It stained not only his past, his name, but even his humanity.
-
Flogging Luo Binghe was a new addition to his routine.
The cries echoed, the blood spilled, the taunts from the other disciples distorted.
It all felt like a big chore.
But he couldn’t stop now, could he? The routine was established. It was something that defined Shen Qingqiu as Shen Qingqiu.
And Shen Qingqiu?
Well, he was a sleazy peak lord who slept with women.
He was a heartless peak lord who thought he was better than his fellow peers.
He was an evil but favoured peak lord who acted unorthodox towards his disciples and was never punished for it.
That was who Shen Qingqiu was.
(It wasn’t who Shen Jiu was.)
(But where did Shen Jiu start and where did Shen Qingqiu end?)
(Who was Shen Jiu?)
(Who was Shen Qingqiu?)
(He didn’t have the energy to care.)
-
Had the world always looked so bleak?
But had he ever even seen the world’s true colours?
Even if he did, he couldn’t remember.
(He didn’t have the energy to try and remember.)
-
He woke up, ready to repeat another day, but something was different.
Something new.
Something fresh.
A strange entity appeared in his mind.
It latched onto his brain with an offer that was too tantalising.
It had to come with a price, but he didn’t care.
He wanted a new life. A new beginning. With no more bleak colours, no more numbing routines, no more masked pain.
So, he accepted.
A fever overwhelmed his body.
His soul was being sucked out.
Shen Jiu didn’t regret it. Shen Qingqiu didn’t regret it.
At least, in death, he’d be free.