Work Text:
The first thing Xiang Fei (Shang Qinghua's real name) registered was the sterile beep.
Not the hum of bugs in the garden of his chamber in Anding-Peak. Not the faint crackle of ice at the Northern Desert Fortress. Just a flat, mechanical rhythm—cold, clinical, and utterly mundane.
Xiang Fei blinked awake to a ceiling of fluorescent lights and the unmistakable scent of antiseptic. His body felt heavy and numb, like it was worse than the first time MBJ threw him in a portal. His fingers twitched against the stiff hospital blanket, and he looked down at his hand—pale, IV taped to the back, fingers curled like they’d forgotten how to move.
No Qi. No flying sword. No spiritual herbs. No Demons. No monsters. No sect disciples. No Cucumber-bro.
No Mobei-Jun.
He was alone.
For a moment, he wondered if it had all been a dream. A very long, very vivid dream.
Decades of transmigration, of growing as a baby into the Peak Lord of An-Ding in CQ Sect in a spiritual world. A life that felt more real than the one he’d left behind.
But now he was back. Back in the modern world. Back in a hospital bed. Back to being no one.
He tried to remember what he’d been before it all.
A broke college graduate with a mountain of student loans. Living in a tiny studio apartment that was poorly wired and got him electrocuted over a poured cup noodles (Okay, maybe that's his fault for touching the plug with wet hand).
He used to joke that his family would forget him someday. Joke’s on him—he forgot first. (Can't blame him. It's been decades for him.)
The nurse said he’d been in a coma for a month. No visitors. No calls.
Fair.
His family properly hadn't noticed he's in the hospital.
-- But what about the people he met in the PIDW world. Would they notice he's gone?
Hmmm… MBJ properly would. Last time he disappeared, MBJ threatened him to break his legs.
A sudden, sharp fear gripped him. What if he went back? What if MBJ found out he’d vanished without a word and suddenly reappeared like nothing happened?
He’d be furious.
Probably beat him up.
Xiang Fei let out a shaky breath and lifted the corner of his lips in a bitter smile. He hadn’t been properly beaten up by his icy king for a long time now. Not since they’d started… whatever it was they had. Not since the hand-pulled noodles, the head pat which replaced the fists and the nights MBJ dragged him into bed without a word……
He never thought he’d miss the rage of his king.
But he did.
He’d rather be scolded, bruised, and dragged back to the ND than sit in this hospital bed alone.
Trying to shake off the spiral, he forced himself to think of the perks. He was back in the modern world! That meant:
▪︎ Internet!
▪︎ Cokes!
▪︎ Air-conditioning! (Though MBJ’s 24/7 mobile chilly skill was better.)
▪︎ Cup noodles! (Though… he missed the ones handmade by his King. Even they tasted like regret and overcooked scallions.)
He shuffled to the vending machine, bought a cup noodles, and returned to his bed. His hands trembled as he tried to hold the chopsticks, the noodles slipping and splashing like they were mocking him.
He tried one bite and it wasn't as good as he remembered. Just a taste of MSG and whatever chemical formula pass for the flavor.
He curled up under the blanket, hiding his face. The cup noodles was abandoned on the side table.
Later, the door creaked open.
“Shang Qinghua?”
He peeked out. A very good looking young man in a hospital gown stood there, looking at him with a suspicious frown.
Although the face recalled a blank in his mind, Xiang Fei knew exactly who this handsome stranger had to be.
Xiang Fei’s eyes welled up instantly. He blinked hard, coughed dramatically to hide his rush of emotions.
Shen Qingqiu – or it's Shen Yuen now – walked across the tiny ward and glanced at the half-full noodles and raised an eyebrow. “So the first thing you decided to do is eat cup noodles?”
“Why not?” Xiang Fei sniffed. “I didn’t know where you were or how to find you. If I only had a week here, I was damn well going to eat cup noodles first.”
Shen Yuen’s hand twitched, like he meant to smack him with a fan. But of course, there was no fan. Just an empty hand in mid-air and a flicker of shared memory.
They both paused.
Yeah. It only had been half a day, but they already missed it.
Shen Yuen sighed. “Come on. Your VIP room’s ready. Let’s get you out of this hallway bed before you start composing tragic fiction about cup noodles.”
Xiang Fei sniffled again, wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his hospital gown, and followed.
- Thanks. It’s not a dream.
./end