Chapter Text
Shen Jiu grimaced at the ancient relic placed in front of him, hiding his soured expression with his fan as he usually did. Just because he refused to attend the annual Cang Qiong Sect holiday feast for the peak lords and head disciples, it didn’t mean he was free to cover for every other peak lord.
”Shen-shixiong~ You don’t mind taking a look at this relic I found, do you? Since this one figured you’ll be bored and lonely, surely a fun little assignment will lighten your mood,” Shen Qinghua practically sang as if the man hadn’t dropped off a stack of mission reports to look through yesterday morning, using the excuse that their Zhangmen-shixiong had advised him to. Apparently, their sect leader had advised Shang Qinghua to do so that he could focus on organizing the feast. The rat decided to take advantage and dump far more work on him than Yue Qingyuan had probably expected.
Despite how badly Shen Jiu wanted to bash the An Ding Peak Lord’s head in, Shen Jiu held his tongue. One of these days, Shen Jiu was going to find just what exactly Shang Qinghua was hiding and get this man replaced. Shen Jiu clicked his tongue. “Fine, but don’t get used to it.”
“Good luck, Shen-shixiong~” Shang Qinghua had practically sung while taking his leave. The bastard didn't even take a sip of the tea Shen Jiu had painstakingly brewed himself for once—it was one of his pricier brews at that. Most—if not all—of his disciples were out for the day due to holiday plans. Shen Jiu regretted not picking out more disciples so that he wouldn’t have to lift a finger in entertaining guests, but the idea of having to train more disciples than he already did irritated him more.
Ming Fan and many others with noble and merchant backgrounds had left to visit family for the holidays. Meanwhile, the rest were on missions or out with friends to enjoy the winter festivals in nearby cities. With the few disciples he had, it was no wonder that his peak was always empty when festivities rolled around. His peak was not like Bai Zhan’s or An Ding’s, where disciples were plenty and would much rather stay at the sect.
Shen Jiu had to admit, it was always far too quiet on his peak around this time of the year. Qing Jing Peak is always peaceful, but it was never a desolate place; there was always the soft murmur of poems being recited or the soft strumming of a guzheng. As much as Shen Jiu hated being around people, he still found peace in the white noise his disciples created. The unforgiving winter reminded him far too much of his pathetic past, where children held their breath as those around them succumbed to the numbing cold.
With a scoff, he disposed of those useless thoughts of his past and carefully picked up the relic with a cloth. Knowing Shang Qinghua, the relic was likely cursed—nothing too serious, of course; contrary to popular belief, the rat wasn’t dumb enough to maim a fellow peak lord and get caught while doing so. He wouldn’t be surprised if Shang Qinghua knew just exactly what the relic did and just wanted to mess with him for his own amusement. Shang Qinghua was just as petty as he was and loved causing inconveniences to those he disliked, and Shen Jiu just had to be on his shit list because of course he was.
With nothing else to do and boredom leashing him in, Shen Jiu reined in his focus onto the admittedly very pretty relic. It was a pretty little pink pendant made of jade with a small bunny carved into it. The relic honestly looked more like something Ning Yingying would use as jewelry or a sword tassel if it wasn’t for the ominous yet playful qi that rolled off the relic in waves.
He really shouldn’t try to activate the cursed thing, but he was just so very tempted—no different from a cat that was prepared to do the very thing again it was told off from doing moments prior. Shen Jiu shook his head free from temptation. He was a peak lord now, and it would be embarrassing to get himself cursed because he had nothing else to do; his shizun would surely shake his head in shame at his childish act.
But you see, things never work out in Shen Jiu’s favor. As a matter of fact, between the relic and him, he was likely the more cursed of the two.
Knock. Knock. “Shizun, may this one enter?”
Shen Jiu jumped at the sudden voice that broke his concentration. The relic flew into the air, and he dumbly caught it with his bare hands in a panic. The moment the cool jade touched his skin, he knew he was screwed. Not all relics activated upon contact, but his gut feeling told him this particular one did, and his gut just always had to be right. In that moment, he found himself cursing as a blinding white light filled up the room.
“Fuck you, Shang Qinghua.”
Luo Binghe stood at the entrance of his Shizun’s bamboo hut, rocking on his heels impatiently as he waited for a response. The only thing he received was two thumps, a muffled shout, another crash, and then silence. He had two choices: pretend nothing ever happened and go back to his woodshed, or be a good disciple and make sure his Shizun was okay. Honestly, he much preferred the former and the idea of spending his day curled up in his woodshed, sleeping the freezing winter away. To make matters worse, he was waiting on his Shizun with nothing but his spring robes to protect him from the biting winds and snow.
“A’Luo, promise me you’ll watch over Shizun while I’m away! I feel bad for abandoning him this winter festival.”
Luo Binghe sighed upon remembering the foolish promise hr made to Ning Yingying, already regretting the decision to essentially offer his head up on a platter for his ruthless Shizun. He wanted to avoid those cold—almost foggy—eyes as much as possible, but a promise was a promise, and Ning Yingying was one of the last people he wanted to disappoint.
The sigh that left his lips barely did anything to release the tension in his muscles as he let himself into his Shizun’s hut. Shen Qingqiu had gone silent for far too long, and while his Shizun was the type to ignore his presence, he at least always responded when he initiated—although it was normally a negative response.
Luo Binghe opened the door, and within seconds, he was tackled down by a force that even Bai Zhan disciples would be impressed by. He wheezed as his breath was forced out of his lungs. It was then that he realized that the thing that knocked him down was a child that looked to be no older than 8 years old. Then again, said child may have been older than he looked, given just how bony his thighs felt on top of him.
“Who are you, and where am I?” The child barked out while trying to choke him out with those tiny, weak hands of his. It felt more like a rough massage rather than any attack, in all honesty. Luo Binghe would have burst out laughing at the pitiful attempt of intimidation if it weren’t for the fact that he recognized just who exactly was sitting on his stomach right now.
Just his luck, the scraggly child attacking him was none other than his Shizun—albeit, a lot less respectable looking. If the loose, extravagant robes of his Shizun hanging off the child’s body weren’t enough, then the striking phoenix eyes had to be. As much as Luo Binghe wanted to lash out at the child—especially with how easy it would be considering their size and power difference—he couldn’t bring himself to be angry with just how cute Shen Qingqiu is in miniature form.
Shen Qingqiu somehow still had the chubbiest little cheeks even with how skinny the rest of his body is—granted, his Shizun still had baby fat on his cheeks even as an adult, which he also found cute. The mutton fat jade on his cheeks was practically begging to be squeezed with how rosy it was. Not only that, but Shen Qingqiu’s lips seemed to be pulled into a constant pout that any sane person would give into. As adorable as mini Shen Qingqiu was, he was still going to become the same man that would torment him for no reason in particular.
A part of him questioned Shen Qingqiu’s current starving frame. Wasn’t he a young lord? Just how could a supposed noble be this… scraggly. He quickly shut down those concerned voices. There’s no point in fretting over a man who had all the help in the world when he barely had any himself.
Luo Binghe pulled himself together and gently tugged the small hands that tried to strangle him. “This one is Luo Binghe, a disciple at Qing Jing Peak, which is where you are right now. Shizun found you passed out in the snow and took pity on you upon seeing your cultivation potential,” he lied with a soft smile and lax shoulders, trying to make himself seem as unassuming as possible.
As fast as everything was happening, it was clear that Shen Qingqiu had regressed in mind, body, and soul. He wasn’t about to make this situation any harder for himself or make himself look crazy by telling the truth. Despite meeting his Shizun’s younger self for the first time, he could tell that he’s just as judgmental as his adult self with those calculating phoenix eyes.
“Oh…” Shen Jiu furrowed his brows and chewed his lower lip in thought. He honestly didn’t buy the story, but who was he to complain about a free entry to the mortal realm’s top cultivation sect? “Is Qi-ge here?”
“Qi-ge?”
“Yue Qi.”
Yue Qi? It had to have been Zhangmen-shibo. He heard rumors that Yue Qingyuan and his Shizun had quite the history with each other, but clearly their history ran far deeper than anyone expected.
“Yue Qi is with our sect leader. We were waiting for you to wake up.”
“Okay, Um… Can you take this one to him, Bing-ge?” Shen Qingqiu looked at him with watery, puppy-like eyes, clearly trying to butter him up as much as possible after the previous mishap. His image of a well-behaved child was clearly well practiced and fake, but a small part of him found himself wanting to coo and fall for it like a fool.
“Of course, now why don’t you tell me your name as we get you better dressed for the winter?” None of the disciples knew Shen Qingqiu’s name before he became Peak Lord. His Shizun had hushed anyone and everyone who knew of it from ever uttering it as if it were a curse. Rumors of his nightly outings to brothels were fine, but his given name was kept under lock and key like some sort of dirty secret. With just how close Shen Qingqiu kept his given name to his chest, Luo Binghe couldn’t help but grow curious.
Shen Jiu glanced down at the pristine robes he made a mess of as soon as he gained consciousness and flushed a bright red. “This one’s name is Shen Jiu,” he grumbled out, clumsily climbing off of Binghe’s lap, and of course he just had to make a greater embarrassment of himself by tripping over the expensive fabric that pooled at his feet.
Luo Binghe kept his deceptively kind smile, hiding the cackle that threatened to erupt. Shen Jiu held none of the grace Shen Qingqiu had, and it amused the 16-year-old greatly (just ignore the fact that he was barely any better himself at that age). Without a single ounce of hesitation, he picked Shen Jiu up into his arms and walked into his Shizun’s bamboo hut as if he owned the place.
Would his Shizun punish him for entering his room so freely? Yes. But alas, Shen Qingqiu wasn’t here, and it wasn’t like Shen Jiu knew any better. He could tell him anything, and he would have to take it as the truth; after all, he was in fact wearing disciple robes, and it wasn’t like there was anybody at Qing Jing Peak to call out his lies.
Luo Binghe took one look around and immediately noticed the ominously cute relic sitting almost menacingly on the ground. Yes, a cursed jade pendant would do something like this, wouldn’t it? He immediately pocketed the jade relic with a cloth wrapped around it and tucked it into his robes.
Meanwhile, Shen Jiu sat obediently on the chair Luo Binghe placed him on, his legs lazily kicking in the air as he waited for the odd disciple to finish rummaging around. What disciple wears spring robes during the winter, and on a mountain at that?
As Luo Binghe rummaged around his Shizun’s closet in hopes of finding a set of old robes for Shen Jiu to wear, he couldn’t help but feel sour at the sight of furs tucked away in his Shizun’s closet. Growing up, neither he nor his mother could afford one, yet Shen Qingqiu had so many of them that most were busy collecting dust. His hands itched. He could steal one right this moment, and Shen Qingqiu might not even notice. All he had to do was keep it tucked away in his Qiankun. It would have made for a perfect blanket for his little shack.
“Bing-ge, what’s taking so long?”
With great reluctance, he grabbed a single fur coat for Shen Jiu and a set of female robes (Ning Yingying’s old ones, no doubt, with their signature bunny embroidery on the inside). As much as he wanted to take the black fur he saw for himself, his mother would undoubtedly be disappointed in him. But it wasn’t like it suited his Shizun, a voice greedily whispered in his head.
“This one apologizes. I had to get rid of some dust.”
“Right…” Shen Jiu squinted his eyes at the feminine robes Luo Binghe innocently held up. “Aren’t those for girls? I’m a boy.”
“Younger disciples use the same robes no matter if they are female or male,” he lied without an ounce of regret. Was it petty of him to get revenge on a much younger and naive version of his Shizun? Yes. Did he care? Not one bit. It wasn’t like it would have mattered much anyway. With how feminine Shen Jiu looked, most people would mistake him for a young girl.
Shen Jiu didn’t believe Luo Binghe one bit, yet he snatched the robes and walked behind the screen to change. “Liar,” he found himself scoffing, hiding his voice with a cough.
Luo Binghe almost snorted at the thinly veiled sass. Shen Qingqiu always failed to hide his displeasure, but Shen Jiu barely even tried.
Five minutes soon became fifteen, and Luo Binghe was admittedly growing impatient. The sooner he dropped off Shen Jiu at Qiong Ding Peak, the more time he would have for himself to simply relax for once without any fear of harassment from Ming Fan and his lackeys.
“Is everything alright back there?”
“I’m fine!” Shen Jiu stubbornly shouted back.
Based on the muffled curses Luo Binghe heard from the other side of the bamboo screen, Shen Jiu was, in fact, not fine. “Would you like this one to give a hand?”
“No!”
“Are you sure?”
“...This Xiao Jiu just needs a bit of help,” Shen Jiu sheepishly gave in.
Luo Binghe took in the sight before him, and what a “beautiful” sight it was. Here was his peerless Shizun in a mess of fabrics. Shen Jiu had somehow tangled his flowy white sleeves into his green sash, and said sash was tied far too loosely.
Despite the spite he held for Shen Qingqiu, he found himself feeling oddly at peace as he fixed Shen Jiu’s disarray of fabrics. Shen Jiu was clumsy and bratty—no different from the stray kittens he once showed off to his mother; his ever-growing curious eyes only helped his case.
“You act like someone who has never worn robes before.”
“That’s because I haven’t, idio—cough—it’s my first time wearing something more than a single layer. It's so soft…” Shen Jiu’s voice softened at the edges as he waved his arms around, watching in awe as his sleeves danced around. Cang Qiong’s disciple robes were nothing to scoff at in terms of quality; their robes were woven from spider silk, produced by Meng Lin Peak’s own cluster of spiritual spiders.
Luo Binghe was also once awed by such simple robes, but it didn’t dare compare to Shen Jiu’s starstruck gaze. It was as if Shen Jiu was experiencing comfort for the first time in his life. He did not want to sympathize with Shen Qingqiu of all people. The silence that followed was too awkward for his liking.
As soon as Luo Binghe was done tying the last knot, Shen Jiu tried tugging the both of them out of the bamboo hut, likely eager to hopefully unite with Yue Qi. “We’re not done yet. You still need to put on your coat.”
Shen Jiu rolled his eyes and practically screamed at him to hurry up with the glower on his face. “Where’s your coat then?”
“I don’t need one.” More like he didn’t have one, but Shen Jiu didn’t need to know that. He couldn’t afford one with all of his money going into food, ink stones, and brushes. If his items weren’t destroyed so often, maybe he could have bought one.
“You’re a bad liar.”
“You’re the only one who thinks that.” Just like that, Luo Binghe’s mask fell apart as if it wasn’t already cracking. Then again, Shen Qingqiu seemed to always see right through him; maybe that’s why he called him little beast.
“That’s because everyone else is stupid.”
Luo Binghe cracked a smile.
Shen Jiu’s ears burned as he bashfully cast his gaze towards his new shoes. He most definitely wasn’t feeling shy because Bing-ge’s smile was by far the most handsome he had seen!
“You should just steal one from here,” he grumbled, mindlessly kicking his feet. “This Shizun of yours looks wealthy; I’m sure he wouldn’t notice a coat of his going missing.”
“And get myself punished? Absolutely not.”
“Then why can I wear all of this?”
“Because Shizun asked me to take care of you using any means necessary.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Are you going to do anything about it?” Luo Binghe had the audacity to tease as he finished adjusting Shen Jiu’s coat.
Shen Jiu shook his head, feeling hot for some reason. He must’ve been angry, of course. “You look too soft to hurt anyone.”
Luo Binghe’s brows raised in genuine surprise.
“You’re just annoying.”
“Oh. I’m sure.” Luo Binghe chuckled, and what a pretty sound it was to Shen Jiu’s ears. “Let’s hurry and get you to your Qi-ge now.” Luo Binghe took Shen Jiu’s much smaller hands in his and led him out of the little hut.
“Where are we going exactly?”
“To Qiong Ding Peak, they lead the rest of the Sect, and it’s where our Sect Leader resides.” He was sure there was an optional meeting amongst Peak Lords today, and surely they would recognize Shen Qingqiu no matter how small he had gotten. Supposedly, it was a last chance for Sect Leaders to submit any inventory requests in person before Shang-Shishu decided enough was enough.
Shen Jiu furrowed his brows. “Why are we going there?”
“Your Qi-ge is staying there.”
How odd… It felt like the truth; yet, a part of him still felt that Luo Binghe was lying to him again.
Shen Jiu opened his mouth to question him further, but Luo Binghe quickly interrupted by unsheathing Zheng Yang. The child was immediately distracted by the sight of a floating spiritual sword right in front of his eyes; he had only ever been able to look at them from afar.
“It’s so pretty… Will I be able to have one too if I train hard?”
“You alrea—cough. Yes, you’ll be able to pull out your very own sword from Wan Jian Peak once Shizun deems you ready.”
“We’re riding it there?” Luo Binghe could practically hear the excitement brimming through Shen Jiu’s voice.
“Yes. I don’t want you staying out in the cold for too long.” Well, it was more like he didn’t want to stay out in the cold for too long, but he refused to ever admit such a thing. Without another word, he squatted down to pick Shen Jiu up against his back. He was such a warm little thing against his body. Normally, Luo Binghe ran hot—something about his demonic bloodline—but it still wasn’t enough to stave off that frigid cold.
“Are you sure you’re not cold?”
“Yes, this one is sure.”
Shen Jiu gave a pointed stare at the back of Luo Binghe’s head, one so heavy he could physically feel it. “You suck,” the child muttered as he wrapped his furred coat around the disciple’s body, providing him with as much warmth as he could.
Luo Binghe’s mouth felt dry as he swallowed. Why was Shen Jiu so much kinder than Shen Qingqiu? Yes, Shen Jiu was one of the rudest kids he’s ever met, but he gave what he could. The only sound that was heard between them was the ghastly winds as Zheng Yang carried them to Qiong Ding Peak.
The moment Luo Binghe landed, a Qiong Ding disciple gestured them towards the meeting hall. There were no other words that needed to be said with the sight of Shen Qingqiu in child form.
“Why are there lanterns and wreaths everywhere?” Shen Jiu asked, breaking the silence as they walked through the vacant halls.
“Qiong Ding likes to decorate for the Winter Festival.”
“Winter Festival?”
“Yes? You know, the festival to celebrate Jidu Yesu’s1 birth after everything he has done for mortals. Some people even considered him to be a saint. Have you seriously never celebrated?”
“No… Do normal people celebrate it?”
Normal? Shen Jiu made it seem like he wasn’t a normal person, or a person to begin with. “Well, some don’t, this one supposes. It’s mostly just a commercial holiday now with how long ago his ascension was.”
“Oh…” Shen Jiu’s voice trailed off as he took in Luo Binghe’s words as if he had just given precious information.
Luo Binghe raised his hand to knock on the meeting room’s door, only for his knuckles to greet air. Yue Qingyuan had practically pulled the door off its hinges to greet the two of them.
“Xiao Jiu, you’re here,” he muttered breathlessly, his voice filled with too much awe for Luo Binghe’s liking.
Speaking of Xiao Jiu, the child immediately hid behind Luo Binghe’s legs, using him as a shield between him and the man Shen Jiu has deemed a pervert in his head. Yue Qingyuan immediately deflated upon seeing Shen Jiu’s face scrunched up in disgust.
Luo Binghe cleared his throat, pulling his Sect Leader’s attention towards him. “May this one speak to Zhangmen-Shibo privately?”
“Hey! This is about me, isn’t it? I want to be a part of this conversation too!”
To no one’s surprise, both Luo Binghe and Yue Qingyuan ignored Shen Jiu’s hissing and pushed Shen Jiu into the meeting room—still filled with a few other Peak Lords, mind you—without another word.
“Disciple Luo, is it? What happened exactly?”
“This one believes Shizun was studying a relic, and it cursed him to be a child.” Luo Binghe kept his head down as he carefully pulled the wrapped-up relic from his robes.
Yue Qingyuan’s eyes glistened in recognition as he grabbed the relic with his bare hands without a care in the world. “This one has everything handled. You’re dismissed, Luo Binghe.”
Luo Binghe tried to leave—he really did—but the moment Yue Qingyuan tried to go back into the meeting room, Shen Jiu came bursting through and practically climbed up his body, forcing him to stay.
“He’s not allowed to leave! If I have to suffer, he has to suffer too!”
That little shit.