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Shen Qingqiu woke from a light doze to a cold basin of water being dumped over his head.
He spluttered, water dripping into his eyes and mouth, and for a moment, he was convinced that the source must have been the murky lake below him. He couldn’t believe that he’d managed to fall asleep at all. The feeling of his cultivation being cut off was deeply uncomfortable, as was the pervasive chill of the stone. He’d quickly grown groggy and achy, but apparently, he’d managed to fall asleep just enough to wake up to his own execution.
He prepared for the pain of the acid eating into his skin, only to shake the liquid from his eyes and find himself shivering and damp on the platform, perfectly fine except for his dignity.
When he realised that the acid curtain had parted, the stone platform raised, and that the Little Palace Mistress was the one standing before him with her whip at the ready, he could only feel some surprise that she had bothered to have someone drag a whole basin of water down into the prison just to pour it on his head.
Little Palace Misterss, you’re really dedicated! he thought. Then he rolled around to dodge her whip, narrowly avoiding flinging himself off the platform.
His wry amusement at the situation faded when Luo Binghe arrived. It was one thing to taunt the Little Palace Mistress over her cringe-worthy affections, but to see Luo Binghe up close again like this… He only felt cold.
Luo Binghe’s rage frightened him and his anguish confused him. One moment, Shen Qingqiu thought he could see his little sheep still standing there. The next, he was certain that only the full-blown protagonist of Proud Immortal Demon Way remained, and that the de-limbing would begin any moment, trial or no trial.
“Shizun,” Luo Binghe asked, “Just answer one question honestly… Do you regret it?”
And there was nothing that Shen Qingqiu could say to that.
But despite it all, he thought bitterly, Couldn’t he at least have left me with my robes on?!
He sneezed.
The System’s so-called ‘small scenario-pusher’—more like 'small strip-show inducer'! Tell him, what exactly about Luo Binghe tearing his clothes off was supposed to have helped him in that situation? Stupid System!
Now his hair was clinging damply to his face and shoulders, and cold wind was blowing through the water prison. The only thing covering him from the waist up were the hundreds of loops of immortal binding cable which wound all around his arms and chest. Luo Binghe’s back had disappeared behind the curtain of acid with his final parting words.
“In a month, I want to watch every step of your fall from grace with my own eyes.”
Well. He would get his wish. Shen Qingqiu would pay him back everything he owed him when the time came, and then disappear into obscurity.
Another violent shiver wracked his body, and he looked at the robe he’d placed on the floor longingly. For a time, he folded his legs and tried to meditate. Without his spiritual energy he kept slipping into half-sleep, only to jerk awake when his chin dropped or when another gust of cold sent him shivering. Each time he dozed off and woke, the dull pain that had taken up residence in his limbs during his harrowing conversation with the protagonist grew until he was aching all over. Eventually, feeling groggy and irritable, he dragged the robe closer. Attempting to drape it over himself only left him fumbling due to his bindings. When his best effort kept slipping down and revealing his collar to the cold air, he gave in and, through a combination of wriggling and rolling around on the ground like a worm, managed to cocoon himself in the thick fabric.
Although he had at first planned to kneel with dignity until the trial, it was such a relief to get a little warmth back that he couldn’t bring himself to move at all and disturb his huddling.
With Luo Binghe's robe around him, Shen Qingqiu ducked his head under a fold of dark fabric and was able to slip back into sleep.
He woke some unknown amount of time later to a hand shaking his shoulder.
“Senior Shen!”
Shen Qingqiu jerked upright so violently that his head cracked against the chin of the person leaning over him. As they both leaned away with a groan, he saw that it was Gongyi Xiao. There had been a scroll clutched in one of his hands, but it was now lying, dropped, on the stone platform by their feet.
“This one apologises, Senior Shen!” Gongyi Xiao said, quickly stepping back and raising his hands. The young man's face was very pale. Shen Qingqiu squinted up at him, wondering what that was all about, but was distracted by muffling another sneeze into the fabric of Luo Binghe's robe.
Ugh. How did the offence of getting snot on the protagonist's clothes compare, in the list of grievances which were going to get Shen Qingqiu killed, to pushing him into the Endless Abyss? He sniffed. It seemed like a great injustice of the world to have a stuffy nose, in addition to freezing his ass off in prison.
"That robe, isn't it—" Gongyi Xiao was saying. Shen Qingqiu had zoned out for a moment to feel miserable, so he only grunted.
Gongyi Xiao knelt in front of him. He looked deeply distressed. Shen Qingqiu tried to sigh through his nose, but found it too stuffed up to even properly express his exasperation. Gingerly, he pushed himself back up to sitting, sparing a moment to be embarrassed that Gongyi Xiao had seen him curled up on the floor like that. He cleared his throat, finding it tender as well, before he spoke.
"What did Gongyi Xiao come here for?" he asked.
"This disciple… was concerned when he heard that Luo-shixiong left here in a rage yesterday," Gongyi Xiao said. "This one was concerned that Luo-shixiong might have done something to Senior Shen."
Ah, so Shen Qingqiu had slept for so long? And hey… what was that implication? Did Gongyi Xiao see Shen Qingqiu as so pitiful, here?!
"As Gongyi Xiao can see, this master is unharmed," Shen Qingqiu said. He pulled Luo Binghe's robe more tightly around himself, making sure his sorry state was fully covered.
Gongyi Xiao's brows only furrowed.
"Senior Shen doesn't look very well," he said.
I've been locked in your sect's Water Prison and whipped by your Young Mistress—how am I meant to look?
Shen Qingqiu wanted to scoff, but he would have felt bad for mocking such an earnest and heartfelt show of concern.
"This Master is fine," was all he said, shaking his head slightly.
Gongyi Xiao reached out a hand and very tentatively poked at Shen Qingqiu's forehead. Shen Qingqiu leaned away.
"What are you doing?"
"Senior Shen is pale and shivering," Gongyi Xiao said. He folded over in a deep bow. "Forgive me, Senior. This Huan Hua Palace is at fault, and hadn't taken into account Senior Shen's delicate health. This one will go and find a healer at once to see to you."
Shen Qingqiu blinked.
"That's really not—"
But Gongyi Xiao was already rushing back towards the bridge that connected the platform to the paths down to the prison. The acid curtain closed behind him. Shen Qingqiu wondered why they even bothered. At this point, it may as well have been a revolving door.
Also, taken into account his delicate health? What was Shen Qingqiu, an ailing grandmother? He knew that Gongyi Xiao had been getting strange ideas after Shen Qingqiu's unfortunate slip of the tongue at Bailu Mountain, but this was just ridiculous.
With Gongyi Xiao gone, Shen Qingqiu remembered the scroll that he'd seen the young man drop. He picked it up and did a double take as soon as he took a glance at the contents.
English!
After a horrifying moment of wondering if he'd missed a third transmigrator in PIDW, he realised that the letter was addressed to him from Shang Qinghua. Gongyi Xiao must have been bringing it along before he'd been distracted by… whatever.
Unfortunately, the contents did not make Shen Qingqiu feel any better about his situation. He balled the paper up and tossed it into the acid lake, listening to the hiss and spit of bubbles as it dissolved and imagining he was tossing Shang Qinghua's corpse in there instead.
A week! His timeline had just gone from a whole month to a week!
His only chance now would be to escape. He needed to get to a particular location for the array he and Shang Qinghua had constructed to successfully capture his soul and deposit it safely in the mushroom body—he absolutely could not do it from in here. And if he was going to escape, Gongyi Xiao was his best option.
With that in mind, Shen Qingqiu settled back to the ground. He huddled down in Luo Binghe's overrobe once more, burying his face in the collar as he tried not to shiver. Despite his best efforts, his nose kept running. It was an ongoing battle to keep from wiping it on the fine black silk.
While Shen Qingqiu intended to think through other strategies of escape while he waited, all he seemed to be able to do was sleep.
Even kneeling neatly (once was enough times to be seen sprawling on the floor by a junior, thank you), he wasn't able to fight off the pull of his eyes drooping closed. He kept waking to find his neck at an uncomfortable angle, or jerking to awareness feeling like he was about to fall. A dull ache took up residence in his face, just behind his eyes, radiating along his cheekbones and up to his brows.
It was very difficult to tell how much time passed, but at a certain point hours or maybe a few days later, Shen Qingqiu realised that Gongyi Xiao wasn't coming back.
It was around the same time that he decided that the young man might not have been making a bad point when he suggested bringing down a healer.
Shen Qingqiu sniffed thickly as he gave up and tipped over to lie on his side on the stone.
His throat felt scraped raw. His head ached. His nose alternated between running and stuffed, which meant he had to breathe through his scratchy throat. The cold of the Water Prison seeped through the stone and into his bones, such that he couldn't get warm no matter how he huddled under his borrowed robe. The unfortunate position of the Immortal Binding Cables meant that he couldn't even properly curl into a full ball under the fabric, although he gave it his best effort.
Like this, it was probably better to just give in and sleep. It meant less time spent thinking about his imminent, mushroom-body-less death.
Damn you Airplane. You had one job!
"Shizun?"
Shen Qingqiu turned. He had just been unleashing a swarm of Flesh-Eating Locusts from a decorative cage onto an elaborate battleground, where several characters from Naruto were engaged in a furious arena battle. One of the locusts landed on his nose. He sneezed and shooed it away. It buzzed off and started eating one of the contestants.
Luo Binghe was sitting next to him in the arena seats. He was wearing his demon emperor robes, in all of the black-and-red embroidered glory of the best fanart. They were even open at the collars, showing a hint of pecs. Not that Shen Qingqiu noticed. A plastic container of popcorn was propped on one impressive, black silk covered protagonist thigh.
"Yes?" Shen Qingqiu said, distracted. He wanted to see how the locusts influenced the outcome of this match.
"This is…" Luo Binghe looked around. His curls bounced. They were looking incredibly soft and bouncy, in fact. Shen Qingqiu wanted to touch one, but his hands were busy with the locust cage. "Not what this one expected."
The arena melted away. Shen Qingqiu looked at the remaining locusts with disappointment. He was still wearing a metal and mesh getup appropriate for the ninja battles, but now he and Luo Binghe were sitting on the couch in his parents' apartment. His mom and sister were arguing loudly in the kitchen. Shen Qingqiu had the feeling that they were arguing about him.
"Is Shizun alright?" Luo Binghe asked.
"I don't know why people keep asking me that," Shen Qingqiu said. "It wasn't even a major operation."
A locust buzzed through the air and landed on his sister's shoulder. In the next moment, his sister was a locust and began trying to eat their mother, who was also a locust.
"Nevermind," Luo Binghe said. He scooted closer on the couch. Shen Qingqiu leaned over and took a piece of popcorn from the container.
When the curtain of acid next parted, Shen Qingqiu was lying flat on his back. He scowled. He'd just been getting really invested in dissecting the shapes that the deadly water made in the air as it fell.
Luo Binghe strode through. Shen Qingqiu was surprised for a moment to see him wearing the black and gold of his Huan Hua Palace guest disciple robes, although he couldn't say exactly why.
"Shizun," Luo Binghe said. He didn't slow as he approached, and only stopped when he was right next to Shen Qingqiu, where he knelt down abruptly.
Shen Qingqiu blinked up at him. Luo Binghe's beautiful protagonist face swam a little in his vision.
"Hm?" he said. The noise scraped at his throat, and he rolled over to cough into the black fabric he was cocooned in.
A hand wormed its way into his cocoon. Shen Qingqiu groaned and tried to squirm away, but he couldn't muster enough strength to push it off of him. Or, no, wait—his arms were bound down to the elbow. That was why it was so difficult to move. And he must have been sleeping in a bad position, because he'd lost feeling in his right arm entirely. It was numb from fingertips to shoulder.
"Shizun," Luo Binghe repeated, and Shen Qingqiu was manhandled into lying on his back once more. Luo Binghe's voice sounded higher and sharper than Shen Qingqiu was used to.
"Stop that," Shen Qingqiu said, scowling and trying to regain his optimal bubble of warmth under the robe. "This master is cold."
"Forgive this one," Luo Binghe said, and kept Shen Qingqiu's arms pinned down so that he could place one cool palm over Shen Qingqiu's forehead. It was only when he did that Shen Qingqiu realised he was still damp from that bucket of water the Little Palace Mistress had poured on him. Or—no, that wasn't right. He was just sweating.
The hand on his forehead shifted to his cheek. He tilted his head and expected claws to dig into his skin, but only felt human fingertips before Luo Binghe carefully shifted his grip so that he wasn't pressing too hard on Shen Qingqiu's face. Shen Qingqiu frowned, a bit disappointed.
"How did this happen?" Luo Binghe asked.
"I don't know," Shen Qingqiu said. "Ask Airplane."
Luo Binghe cursed softly.
"I just want to sleep," Shen Qingqiu said. He groaned and rolled over again. This time, Luo Binghe did not wrestle him back around.
"Fine. Fine!" Luo Binghe said.
There was a loud noise. Shen Qingqiu thought it might have been Luo Binghe sending off another qi blast against the poor stone walls. He cracked an eye open, but didn't see anything amiss. It might have been his imagination then.
"Luo Binghe," he said, half-into Luo Binghe's robe, "Won't there be time for this later?"
He understood why his disciple was angry with him. He understood why Luo Binghe wanted revenge. Only, he'd rather not get into it all again right this moment. Maybe after he took some ibuprofen and got a proper nap.
"Come in here, now!" Luo Binghe shouted.
Shen Qingqiu was already in here, so he assumed that this was not directed at him. Indeed, a moment later, the revolving-acid curtain parted, and that rude, pockmarked disciple from Jin Lan City entered with a nervous look on his face.
"Luo-shixiong? What is it?" he asked. "I thought Shixiong said no one but him should—"
"Come over here, please. I need help," Luo Binghe said, voice light and ever so slightly concerned. All traces of anger were gone.
Shen Qingqiu tried to get a look at his face. Unfortunately, his limbs ached when he tried to roll over on his own, especially his otherwise numb arm. He was distracted by the pain and attempting to keep his nose from running in front of the protagonist, and so he didn't see it coming when Luo Binghe snaked one arm under Shen Qingqiu's back and the other under his knees. He rose from the ground in a smooth motion. Nonetheless, it made Shen Qingqiu's stomach roll and the room spin. He groaned and scrabbled to get a handhold, feeling like he was about to fall.
This left him clutching at Luo Binghe's collar. Thankfully, instead of removing the offending hand at the wrist, Luo Binghe instead shifted him around in his hold so that Shen Qingqiu tipped against his chest. His head came to rest against Luo Binghe's shoulder, and most of his vision was filled by the lines of Luo Binghe's throat. He swallowed down mucus and stared at it blankly.
This did not feel entirely right to Shen Qingqiu. However, it was better than feeling like he was about to fall off of some perilous precipice. And up close, Luo Binghe was deliciously warm. Much warmer than the stone floor had been. He tried not to be obvious about leaning into it.
"Wait right here a moment," Luo Binghe said to the pockmarked disciple. He turned and strode down the thin bridge, away from the platform.
"Wait—" the disciple said.
The acid curtain closed behind them.
Ha, Shen Qingqiu thought, Finally I get to see it close from the other side.
At about that point, the motion of being carried by Luo Binghe started to make him nauseous, and he turned all of his considerable focus to not throwing up on his former disciple.
It wasn't that Shen Qingqiu fell asleep. It was just that one moment he’d been taking deep breaths to will away queasiness in Luo Binghe’s arms, and that distracted him from the part where he’d presumably been moving, such that when he was next aware, he was already in a bed.
It was a very nice bed. For some reason, it was twice as wide as a regular bed, with twice as many pillows.
Shen Qingqiu tried to raise his head from those pillows. The room spun dizzyingly, and he fell back with a soft groan.
“Don’t move too quickly, Shizun,” Luo Binghe said. A hand slid behind his neck and briefly propped his head up until more pillows could be shuffled behind him. Almost delicately, Luo Binghe lowered him back to the cushions.
At this new angle, Shen Qingqiu could see the rest of the room. The walls were dark wood, with elegant paintings on the screens in shades of cream, black, and gold. The furniture was very fine.
Luo Binghe sat on the edge of the bed. He was just setting a wooden bowl of water by his feet when Shen Qingqiu looked over at him, and he had another bowl in his hand, which he held out towards Shen Qingqiu.
“Shizun is very dehydrated,” Luo Binghe said, slow and clear, like perhaps it was not the first time he had said it. “Please, drink this. You’ll feel better once you’ve drunk something."
Shen Qingqiu thought of Luo Binghe’s earlier words.
If I wished to do something to you, I wouldn’t need to touch you at all.
Gingerly, he took the bowl. His hands shook. He frowned at them, then raised the bowl to his lips. It was only warm water, and he took a few sips. It burned his throat and was a struggle to swallow, but at the same time, it was the best thing he’d felt in days, instantly warming him up from the inside.
He drained the bowl. Queasiness resurfaced, and he curled onto his side. Dehydration. That explained the headache and the nausea.
… Had Huan Hua Palace really not been planning to give him any water until the trial? Or had Shen Qingqiu just sweated out all of his body’s liquid ahead of schedule? He seemed to recall some mention of Luo Binghe forbidding anyone but himself from entering the Water Prison. He narrowed his eyes.
“Where is Gongyi Xiao?” he asked. His voice came out as a croak.
Luo Binghe’s brow twitched. “Why does Shizun care about that person?”
Shen Qingqiu had no desire to get Gongyi Xiao in trouble. However, he feared that trouble had already found the young man.
“He came to my… cell,” Shen Qingqiu said, struggling for a more apt word. My cage. My weird pond. “He was concerned and said he was leaving to find a healer, but he didn’t return.”
For a moment, Shen Qingqiu thought there was genuine confusion on Luo Binghe’s face. It was there and gone so quickly that it might have been another fever-induced imagining. Like the dragons he’d been seeing in the acid waterfall around his prison. When Luo Binghe caught Shen Qingqiu’s eye, he scowled.
“And Shizun suspects this disciple of harming him, is that it? Of course, because this one is the vilest of scum, a being incapable of redemption or remorse, all sins must fall at my feet.”
Um, protagonist? Don’t put so many words in Shen Qingqiu’s mouth! This old man can’t keep up right now!
For lack of an answer, Shen Qingqiu pressed his face into the mattress to cough. This might have worked too well as a distraction, because once he started coughing it was difficult to stop. After a moment, he felt a hand touch his back, feather-light. It rubbed small circles against his spine until Shen Qingqiu was able to regain control over himself.
Luo Binghe passed him a handkerchief. Shen Qingqiu gratefully wiped his face before he rolled back over, feeling rather chagrined, although Luo Binghe had not said anything.
“If—” His throat throbbed. He cleared it roughly before trying again. “If Luo Binghe is so furious with this master, why take him from the Water Prison? If Luo Binghe simply left this master there, he wouldn’t need to deal with…”
With Shen Qingqiu, coughing all over what had to be the protagonist’s bed. Getting snot and sweat on his sheets and, Shen Qingqiu could admit with the bit of clarity he’d managed to pull together, probably the collar of his robes.
“Shizun may think this one is nothing more than a dog,” Luo Binghe said coldly. “But that doesn’t mean this one is devoid of all compassion. Seeing Shizun lying there—could anyone not be moved?”
… So, Luo Binghe definitely just didn’t want Shen Qingqiu to die before he had a chance to torture him himself. Great.
There was nothing to be done. Shen Qingqiu blew his nose again and then returned to breathing wetly against the pillows.
Luo Binghe was silent beside him for a time. Shen Qingqiu expected him to stand and leave. Instead, Luo Binghe took another cloth from places unknown and dipped it into the basin of water he’d brought. He wrung the cloth out between broad palms, carefully squeezing the water out in clear drops and then folding it into a neat rectangle.
He reached across the bed. Shen Qingqiu flinched, but Luo Binghe only laid the cloth across his forehead.
Shen Qingqiu couldn’t have been more stupified. Never in his life did he think that he would be in the position to have an honest-to-god cool cloth laid upon his brow, like a maiden who had fainted in a period drama!
It was with this thought that he became aware of the scene which was being painted here. Shen Qingqiu in Luo Binghe’s bed, the curtains carefully tied back around the wooden frame. It was either early evening or early morning—the light outside the windows was golden. An incense burner was lit in one corner of the room, filling the air with a sweet and faintly medicinal scent.
Protagonist… it was one thing to keep your enemy from dying before you got your revenge, but wasn’t it a bit much to give the appearance of tenderly nursing him back to health?!
“Rest, Shizun,” Luo Binghe said. “This one is going to brew some medicine for your fever. I’ll leave some more water—try to drink.”
Shen Qingqiu was too embarrassed to say anything at all to that.
Although Shen Qingqiu thought there was no way he could possibly sleep in Luo Binghe’s bed, he was out again within minutes.
He woke some time later, once again groggy and dizzy. Luo Binghe was shaking his shoulder. Shen Qingqiu groaned and flailed out an arm to catch his wrist.
“Stop that, Binghe,” he said.
Luo Binghe was slow to answer, but he allowed Shen Qingqiu to push his hand away. It was only then, half-awake, that Shen Qingqiu realised the immortal-binding cables had been removed. Not only that, but his other arm, the right one, had been bandaged from fingertip to shoulder. What skin he could see under the bandages looked purple, like an old bruise. He raised that hand and stared at it, relieved he could at least move it.
“Careful, Shizun,” Luo Binghe said. He took Shen Qingqiu’s right hand and tucked it back under the blanket. A blanket Shen Qingqiu also couldn’t recall being there earlier. He huddled down under it, chilled.
“This Binghe has medicine,” Luo Binghe said. There was something distinctly different about his voice now, some quality which was present but which had not been earlier.
He helped Shen Qingqiu sit up and held a bowl to his lips. It smelled strongly herbal, and Shen Qingqiu wrinkled his nose. However, years of having Mu Qingfang’s awful medicinal teas foisted on him ingrained him with the natural inclination to open his mouth and drink whatever concoction was presented to him with minimal complaint.
To his surprise, the medicinal soup Luo Binghe had brewed was thick and sweet. It coated his mouth and throat, soothing the scraped-raw feeling, and was pungent enough to slightly relieve the congestion behind his nose and eyes.
“This one added some honey for Shizun’s throat,” Luo Binghe said. “It’s not too bitter, is it Shizun?”
Shen Qingqiu shook his head.
When Shen Qingqiu had drunk the whole bowl, Luo Binghe replaced it with another of water, then helped him lie back down.
“Is Shizun hungry?” Luo Binghe asked. “This one made some congee. Just with ginger and scallions, so it won’t be harsh on the stomach. Or there’s stock, if Shizun would like some egg soup. This Binghe would be happy to make some.”
He opened the lid on a dish that Shen Qingqiu could now see had been set on the table near the bed. Steam wafted out. Shen Qingqiu was sure that, if he could smell anything, the scent of sesame oil and ginger would be permeating the air.
For some reason, the fact that he couldn’t smell the protagonist’s cooking was greatly upsetting to Shen Qingqiu. So much so that his face grew hot, his throat stinging all the more while the pressure behind his eyes became all but unbearable. He tried to breathe through it and made a wet noise instead.
“Shizun!” Luo Binghe cried. He sat back down on the edge of the bed and took Shen Qingqiu’s face in his hands. Shen Qingqiu closed his eyes and felt Luo Binghe’s thumbs sweep over his cheeks, wiping away the wetness.
“Shizun, Shizun, please don’t be upset!” Luo Binghe cried. “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t—I didn’t mean any of it. I’m sorry, Shizun…”
Shen Qingqiu sniffled. This is way too OOC, he thought, unsure if he meant for Shen Qingqiu or for Luo Binghe. System, can’t you do anything?
[UNABLE TO PROCESS HOST’S REQUEST] the System said. It looked like it had been put on dark-mode, perhaps in deference to Shen Qingqiu’s headache. [TEMPORARY BUG FOUND. SYSTEM PERFORMING MAINTENANCE.]
Yeah, I bet! Shen Qingqiu thought. You’ve got nothing but bugs, you shitty System!
While he mentally berated the System, Luo Binghe had produced another of his seemingly endless supply of handkerchiefs and was drying Shen Qingqiu’s face. This time, Shen Qingqiu was up close enough to see the scrap of fabric being pulled right from the protagonist’s qiankun sleeve. He imagined Luo Binghe as a modern street magician or circus clown, pulling endless scarves out from his pocket, and almost laughed.
Oh, god. His brain was really cooked.
As if in agreement, Luo Binghe moved one hand from Shen Qingqiu’s cheek to his forehead.
“Shizun’s fever is up,” he said fretfully. Shen Qingqiu wished he had the energy to properly analyse all of the expressions and tones Luo Binghe kept having. As it was, he had to duck out of Luo Binghe’s grabby hands in order to muffle a sneeze against his knees. “Do you feel sick?” Luo Binghe asked. “Is that why Shizun won’t eat? Maybe I should get Mu Qingfang—”
Yes! Shen Qingqiu thought. Do that! Maybe I can convince him to break me out of here before the mushroom bodies rot!
But instead of an agreement, what came out of Shen Qingqiu’s much-abused throat was, “I’ll eat.”
Luo Binghe’s brows drew together, then shot up as his eyes went wide and—dare Shen Qingqiu say it?—sparkly. He nodded and, before Shen Qingqiu could take it back, brought the tray over to the bed.
Shen Qingqiu tried to push himself up, expecting Luo Binghe to place the tray in his lap. Instead, Luo Binghe set the tray over his own knees and dipped the spoon into the bowl, scooping up a spoonful that glistened with oil and jewel-green scallions. He blew on it, then held it up to Shen Qingqiu's lips.
Shen Qingqiu looked at the spoon. He looked at Luo Binghe. Carefully, he leaned forward and took a bite.
It must have been too hot. His eyes were stinging. Even without being able to breathe through his nose and with his throat raw and burning, the congee tasted amazing. There was nothing else like it in either world Shen Qingqiu had belonged to.
"It's alright, Shizun," Luo Binghe said, and offered him another.
Shen Qingqiu ate half the bowl before, regretfully, he couldn't stomach any more. Luo Binghe covered the bowl back up and waved a hand over the top, activating a talisman which was carved into the ceramic. He even went so far as to carefully dab a cloth at the corner of Shen Qingqiu's mouth.
Shen Qingqiu felt like he was going insane. He sniffled.
Luo Binghe dimmed the lamps.
"It's nighttime," he said, gathering up the dishes and placing them near the rooms' door. The sleeves of his robes were tied back, just like he used to keep them as a little white lotus, bustling around the kitchen of Shen Qingqiu's Bamboo House. "Shizun can sleep more if he'd like."
"How long until the trial?" Shen Qingqiu asked.
Luo Binghe stiffened. That warmth, which had been so present in his voice before, took on a strained edge. Shen Qingqiu knew without a shadow of a doubt that the protagonist was forcing the lightness in his tone when he said, "It has been four days since this one came to see Shizun in the Water Prison the first time. There are still three weeks until the trial."
"So long?" Shen Qingqiu asked, and wasn't sure if he meant until the trial or since he'd seen Luo Binghe last. The time had slipped by like the acid in the Water Prison's deadly waterfall.
Luo Binghe hummed.
Shen Qingqiu wrapped his arms around himself and shivered. He drew his legs up to his chest, chasing the warmth he'd found earlier, but it was absent now.
Luo Binghe puttered around the room, neither leaving nor saying more. Shen Qingqiu wondered if he would sleep elsewhere that night. Perhaps with the Little Palace Mistress, since Shen Qingqiu was in his bed. For reasons he couldn't name, that thought chilled him even more.
"Is Shizun cold?" Luo Binghe asked. Shen Qingqiu could have sworn he'd been across the room, folding up some sort of fabric, but then he appeared right next to the bed.
Shen Qingqiu stiffly shook his head.
"This master is fine."
Luo Binghe frowned. He caught Shen Qingqiu's left hand and held it up, examining him closely. "Shizun is shivering."
Shen Qingqiu couldn't deny it. Haha! No, that was a lie. There was nothing he couldn't deny. He pulled his hand back and tucked it under his arm, burrowing down under the covers.
"Shizun is already so hot, this one doesn't want to add any more blankets until Shizun's fever has gone down," Luo Binghe said.
Shen Qingqiu turned his face into the pillows so Luo Binghe wouldn't see him frowning. He knew Luo Binghe had meant it when he said he could make Shen Qingqiu suffer without touching him, but Shen Qingqiu hadn't expected that meant being left to freeze to death.
"It's fine," he said.
There was some rustling. Shen Qingqiu didn't dare look up. Both because he was determined not to give Luo Binghe the satisfaction of seeing him miserable, and because his nose had started to run again, and he didn't want Luo Binghe to see him that undignified either. Yes, he had seen earlier! But maybe he hadn't noticed!
A moment later, the bed dipped, and the covers shifted. A wave of cold air hit him, and he flailed out an arm, determined to fight back against this brutal assault. His arm was caught and firmly tucked back down under the covers, and then Luo Binghe was sliding into bed beside him.
Shen Qingqiu's breath caught in his throat. Instead of a dramatic gasp, it came out as a cough. He coughed hard into the handkerchief Luo Binghe had given him until he'd cleared his lungs, and by the time he caught his breath it was too late. He was firmly in the protagonist's clutches.
Luo Binghe had his arms wrapped around Shen Qingqiu's waist, his chest pressed firmly to Shen Qingqiu's back. This was a terrible moment for Shen Qingqiu to recall that he was no longer wearing a shirt, and on the heels of that realisation, the fact that these were not the pants he'd been wearing in the Water Prison.
Luo Binghe was warm and solid against his back. His breath ghosted over the fine hairs at the back of Shen Qingqiu's neck. Shen Qingqiu shivered. Because he was still cold. Obviously.
"This one cannot recommend more layers until Shizun's fever lowers, but this disciple doesn't want Shizun to be uncomfortable," Luo Binghe said. "Begging Shizun's forgiveness for this one's presumption."
Shen Qingqiu was utterly speechless. Was this some new kind of torture? The only reason Luo Binghe should have had to touch him was to rip off his limbs one by one, to mock or torture him. This…
Felt an awful lot like hugging. Like… being cuddled. Not that Shen Qingqiu had any experience being cuddled. The closest he'd come since he was a child himself were the few times Luo Binghe had come to him, tear-stained and anxious, when he'd had a bad dream as a young disciple.
Luo Binghe shifted, and Shen Qingqiu could feel the firm muscles of his arms and chest pressing against him. The protagonist was very noticeably not a little soft-faced lamb anymore. For one thing, there was a lot more of him.
Attempting to wriggle away only resulted in Luo Binghe's grip tightening, his chin coming to rest at the crown of Shen Qingqiu's head, so that Shen Qingqiu was tucked thoroughly against him. All Shen Qingqiu could do was hold still and try not to fear that he was going insane.
Shen Qingqiu rolled over and decided he was very tired of being tired. It felt like all he'd done in days was sleep, sleep, be stressed about his fate as a human stick, and sleep some more. And he was still tired!
Rolling over landed him on a very firm pillow. It was pretty comfortable, but although his eyes remained closed, sleep didn't pull him back under. He was too hot. His skin felt sticky, and the blankets were damp—soaked through with sweat.
The pillow under his face rose and fell. That was nice. Almost nice enough to send him back to sleep, despite the suffocating warmth and gross sweatiness.
Shen Qingqiu pushed himself upright abruptly.
Luo Binghe stared up at him. He was wearing only his white inner robe. There was a spot on the shoulder that Shen Qingqiu realised with dawning horror was drool. His own chin felt a little tacky. And although Shen Qingqiu had just been lying on him, drooling and sweating all over him, he had a soft, content look on his face. Combined with the snow-white robes and the soft morning light streaming in through the screens on the shuttered windows, it made Luo Binghe look like his old self again. Soft and warm and unsullied by the Abyss. By the horror Shen Qingqiu had put him through.
Shen Qingqiu felt queasy.
"Shizun is awake," Luo Binghe said. He half-sat up without his hands, a deliberate flex of his abdominal muscles. Shen Qingqiu felt nothing in particular about this, even as it almost sent him tilting into Luo Binghe's lap. Luo Binghe used his free hands to capture Shen Qingqiu and press the back of one to his forehead. "And Shizun isn't so hot anymore. How do you feel?"
"Better," Shen Qingqiu said, although his voice was so hoarse it sounded foreign to his ears. Luo Binghe hummed.
Carefully, as though herding a beloved cat, Luo Binghe slid Shen Qingqiu over onto the other side of the bed and got out from under the covers. He gave absolutely no indication of anger or disgust, simply stretching and carding a hand through his messy curls. Shen Qingqiu's own hand twitched. Where was Luo Binghe's comb? He wasn't going to go walking around with his hair loose like that where anyone could see, would he?
"This one will go and brew another pot of medicine," Luo Binghe said. "Shizun can rest all he wishes. There's more water in the pitcher, and this one will bring food. Shizun can move around as he'd like, this one only asks that Shizun keep the windows closed so that the wind doesn't get in. And Shizun…"
Luo Binghe had been pulling back on his outer robes as he spoke, and when he said Shen Qingqiu's name he cinched his belt tightly and looked up with a sudden intensity in his eyes.
"Do not leave this room, or this disciple will be forced to find you."
With a few brisque motions, Luo Binghe's hair was tied out of his face. He left and slid the door shut behind him.
Shen Qingqiu didn't dare to disobey him.
When Luo Binghe returned, Shen Qingqiu had managed to splash his face off with the water, relieve himself, and move from the bed to the divan. It was nice to have the chance to stretch his legs, even in the confines of Luo Binghe's rooms. He felt as though he was shaking off months' worth of aching stiffness, instead of only a few days. And although he now had his wits more firmly about him than when he'd been in the throes of fevered delirium, he was still weak, sore, and congested. It was like fighting off the worst flu he'd ever had. Not to mention, in the light of da,y he could see why Luo Binghe had bandaged his right arm—Without a Cure had spread through the limb while unchecked by his cultivation, and full sensation was still in the process of returning to his fingertips.
He wondered what would have happened if Luo Binghe hadn't come to free him from the Water Prison. He really was a failure by the standards of the original goods—he might not even have made it to his trial.
"Shizun waited for this one," Luo Binghe said when he re-entered. He carried another tray with several covered bowls on it. There was also, Shen Qingqiu couldn't help but notice, a small vase on it with a few delicate white flowers inside. He carefully decided not to think about those as Luo Binghe set it down on the low table. "How is Shizun feeling?"
"Where would this master go?" Shen Qingqiu asked.
Luo Binghe's expression was dangerously blank. Shen Qingqiu didn't dare to guess what he was thinking. He walked over to the bed, bundled the blanket in his arms, and came over to drape it across Shen Qingqiu's lap.
"This one thought Shizun might take the chance to escape," Luo Binghe said. "Is that not Shizun's plan?"
"This one agreed to the trial willingly. Why would I escape?" Shen Qingqiu, who very much had planned to escape, said.
"In the Water Prison, Shizun said he thought this one planned this ambush and trial, turning Huan Hua Palace against Shizun. Why would Shizun stay if he thought that this one would bias the trial against him? Especially after this Huan Hua Palace left Shizun to rot, allowing Without a Cure to run wild and Shizun's health to fail."
Luo Binghe hadn't moved away after spreading the blanket over Shen Qingqiu's lap. He was very close, his hands planted on either side of Shen Qingqiu's legs. Shen Qingqiu could count his eyelashes where they fanned across his pale cheeks.
"Why did Binghe take this one from the Water Prison and remove his bindings, if he thought this master might escape?" Shen Qingqiu asked carefully.
Luo Binghe met his eyes fiercely for a long moment before abruptly pulling away. He picked up the tray and brought it over after removing the small vase, then placed it carefully across Shen Qingqiu's folded legs. Shen Qingqiu gripped the sides to keep it from overbalancing, which meant his hands were occupied as Luo Binghe removed the lid from the first bowl and took a seat next to him on the divan.
"Shizun still needs medicine and rest to recover," Luo Binghe said, his tone warming. He ladled out a spoonful of what looked like more honeyed-medicinal soup and held it to Shen Qingqiu's lips. "Please open up, Shizun. This disciple will assist."
Shen Qingqiu stiffened. It was one thing for Luo Binghe to feed him when he'd been half-delirious from fever and barely able to lift his arms, but in the light of day, this was just ridiculous.
"This master is fully capable of feeding himself," he said.
"This disciple must insist."
"Luo Binghe, really," Shen Qingqiu scowled and leaned away. "I—"
"Drink it!" Luo Binghe snarled. For just a moment, his eyes flashed red. Shen Qingqiu blanched and jerked away. The tray clattered to the floor, spilling soup and rice and medicine all over.
Shen Qingqiu's breathing went sharp and heavy. Tension coursed through him that had no place to go. Luo Binghe gave a full-body twitch, and Shen Qingqiu was sure it was holding back killing intent. He wanted to reach for Xiu Ya, but the sword was still locked up by the Old Palace Master, and his qi was still being blocked by Without a Cure.
Luo Binghe stood.
"Why won't Shizun just let me do this one thing?" he shouted. A dark energy was coursing through him, filling the air with oppressive qi. Although the demonic red light had disappeared from his eyes, the whites were still tinted pink, as if bloodshot. "Shizun doesn't trust me, doesn't love me. But I can still be good? Why can't Shizun see that I can still be good!"
He waved a hand, and a slash of dark qi rocketed through the air. It tore apart the tray and splattered the food even farther across the floor. The expression on Luo Binghe's face was crazed.
Shen Qingqiu rolled off the divan. Although he'd told himself he would meet his end with some amount of dignity and grace, a raw animal panic was taking up residence inside him in the moment. He pushed off the ground and stumbled to his feet, taking several quick steps back before tripping over a decorative vase and falling back to the floor.
The movement jarred his tender lungs, and Shen Qingqiu fell into a fit of coughing.
"Shizun!"
Luo Binghe flew across the room to pull Shen Qingqiu back up. Shen Qingqiu was dizzy from panic and the violent coughing, and could only allow himself to be manhandled.
"I'm sorry!" Luo Binghe said. He cradled Shen Qingqiu in his arms and stroked his back, although the motion was jerky and overly harsh. "Shizun, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. Please forgive this Binghe. I didn't mean to scare you. I just wanted to show you I can be good. I can be good, I promise, I can, I can be good—"
Up close, even with his own qi sealed, Shen Qingqiu could tell that Luo Binghe's qi was roiling and unsettled. That malevolent energy was heavy in the air, even as Luo Binghe's face grew fraught and tear-filled.
Shen Qingqiu reached out and grasped Luo Binghe's arms. "Luo Binghe, control yourself. Xin Mo's energy is making your own imbalanced. If you keep going like this you are going to have a qi deviation, and this master will not be able to stop it in his current condition. Luo Binghe."
Concerned that Luo Binghe wasn't minding his words, Shen Qingqiu moved his grip to Luo Binghe's face. He pulled the protagonist's burning forehead against his own and breathed as deeply and evenly as his congested lungs and sore throat would allow. It was a bit gross. He was probably breathing germs all over Luo Binghe.
Despite the grossness, Luo Binghe's breathing slowly evened out. He closed his eyes, and Shen Qingqiu suspected he was meditating, carefully cycling his energy and re-aligning the pathways.
Shen Qingqiu didn't know how long they sat there for. His legs and right arm grew numb, but he didn't dare move and disturb Luo Binghe's fragile peace.
Eventually, the room grew colder, and Shen Qingqiu started to shiver. At the first tremor, Luo Binghe snapped out of his trance. He scooped Shen Qingqiu up in his arms at once, eyes already growing suspiciously shiny.
"Shizun! This one apologises for his unsightly display. I've made Shizun kneel while he's ill."
He bustled Shen Qingqiu back over to the bed, against Shen Qingqiu's sour protests that he was fine, that a little kneeling would hardly kill him, and that this was really enough with all of the princess-carrying nonsense.
Luo Binghe listened to precisely none of his protests. Although Shen Qingqiu could admit, it was a bit nice when Luo Binghe made him tea and stuck a heating talisman on a buckwheat pillow that he slipped into the bottom of the bed to help warm Shen Qingqiu up.
When Shen Qingqiu was thoroughly tucked back in and sipping at his tea, Luo Binghe knelt beside the bed, shame faced.
"I'm sorry, Shizun," he said. "That sword, it… Sometimes, its influence is difficult to manage."
Shen Qingqiu nodded. "Luo Binghe should be mindful with himself. Xin Mo's energies need to be released, or they will build up within Luo Binghe's meridians and lead to damage."
Luo Binghe nodded slowly. His hands came to rest in his lap.
"How did Shizun… know the name of this one's sword?" he asked.
Shen Qingqiu blanched. He hastily looked away, raising his cup to hide the bottom half of his face and wishing he had his fan instead.
"This master read about the legendary sword in some ancient texts," he bullshited. "I recognised it in Jin Lan City."
Luo Binghe nodded, although he did not look entirely convinced. Shen Qingqiu worried about what gears might be turning in that protagonist's head of his, and so he cleared his throat to break the silence before it could run too deep.
"Luo Binghe…" he said. He felt itchy all over, emotionally, and some thoughts were coalescing in his head that he didn't feel fully ready to allow to come together. "This master… that is… Luo Binghe shouldn't feel that way. Luo Binghe… is good. He should stop calling himself a monster and all of those other things. This master—this master is very aware of just how good Luo Binghe is."
Slowly, Luo Binghe's gaze rose from his lap. Shen Qingqiu very determinately did not meet his eyes, instead staring at some spot at the foot of the bed and clutching his tea cup like a lifeline.
"But Shizun… Shizun cast this one away. Shizun h-hates this disciple. Shizun said—Shizun doesn't regret sending this disciple away."
It was only as Luo Binghe's voice broke on the last words that Shen Qingqiu realised what an awful mistake he'd been making this entire time. He'd thought that his white lotus disciple, his precious little sheep, had died in the Abyss. But who was he seeing in front of him, if not that bleating child, tear-stained and desperate for his master's approval? Shen Qingqiu had been blinded by what he thought he would see, and missed what was in front of him all along.
His disciple had come back from the Abyss alive. He still had room for care in his heart. Care for the master who had raised him and who had betrayed him. That was—if Shen Qingqiu didn't snuff it out now through his own inept fumbling.
Shen Qingqiu set the tea cup aside. Slowly, tentatively, he reached out until at last his hand came to rest against that fluffy head. He stroked Luo Binghe's hair.
"This master was wrong," Shen Qingqiu said. "This master regrets it. Luo Binghe—I'm so sorry."
Luo Binghe bent his head until it rested against Shen Qingqiu's lap and sobbed.
It was several hours later that a commotion stirred in the halls of Huan Hua Palace.
It began as a distant boom that shook the wooden window frames of Luo Binghe's rooms. Shen Qingqiu had been dozing and woke from the noise. He blinked around the room blearily, finding the light outside golden and the lamps unlit. Luo Binghe was sitting on the bed, over the covers, with an arm around Shen Qingqiu's waist.
"What was that?" Shen Qingqiu asked.
Luo Binghe peered around. When there were no following explosions, he shrugged and leaned back over to lay his temple against Shen Qingqiu's forehead.
"Shizun shouldn't worry about it," he said. "Let this Binghe get you some more tea."
Shen Qingqiu was too fuzzy from sleep to be properly concerned. He let Luo Binghe tug the covers up higher and slip from the bed, and accepted the tea when he returned with it. Luo Binghe made fussy noises about Shen Qingqiu's fever, which Shen Qingqiu waved off lazily.
It was around then that the screaming started.
"Shouldn't you go check on that, Binghe?" Shen Qingqiu asked.
"Shizun is more important," Luo Binghe said. He produced another of his seemingly infinite cloths to wet and pass to Shen Qingqiu for his forehead. Shen Qingqiu, exasperated, slapped it on like a cold patch.
The door to Luo Binghe's rooms was kicked open.
"You ungrateful beast!" Liu Qingge shouted. "Release Shen Qingqiu's body back to Cang Qiong Mountain!"
Elsewhere in Huan Hua Palace, something else exploded.
The cloth fell off Shen Qingqiu's forehead and onto his lap. He, very much alive, stared at Liu Qingge. Liu Qingge, looking rather shocked to find him so, stared back. Then, he sheathed his sword.
"Oh," he said. "You're not dead."
"Who said I was dead?" Shen Qingqiu asked.
Qi Qingqi appeared in the doorway behind Liu Qingge.
"Shen-shixiong," she said. "Good to see the rumours of your demise were exaggerated. You look awful. Did you know exactly how many interesting records the Old Palace Master keeps hidden away in his various offices and treasure rooms? Because I have learned a great deal in the last four shichen, especially about that dead head disciple of his, Su Xiyan."
"What was all that noise?" Shen Qingqiu asked, faintly.
"Zhangmen-shixiong is keeping Huan Hua Palace's masters occupied while we rescue you," Qi Qingqi said. "Or rather, your corpse. Rumour had it that your former disciple was seen carting your dead body away from the Water Prison. And then Huan Hua Palace had the audacity to write to us, all but declaring war and accusing you of murdering their disciple Gongyi Xiao. When Zhangmen-shixiong demanded to see you, the Old Palace Master claimed you had escaped. So, obviously, we assumed that they'd had you killed and then tried to cover it up and ruin your name."
There was another crash, this one less distant than the other two had been. Qi Qingqi looked over her shoulder.
"And now there's a giant snake," she said.
Liu Qingge frowned. "Did we bring a giant snake?"
Shen Qingqiu sneezed. Luo Binghe offered him another handkerchief, then turned a glare on Qi Qingqi and Liu Qingge.
"If you don't mind," he said, "Shizun is still recovering. This is too much excitement for someone who's ill."
"Binghe—" Shen Qingqiu began.
Screaming echoed from outside the room.
"Now the giant snake is eating some Huan Hua Palace disciples," Qi Qingqi reported blandly. She squinted. "And I think thats the demon emperor, Tianlang-jun, riding on his back."
Luo Binghe stood, leaned down, and pulled Shen Qingqiu into his arms, blankets and all.
"We will be going," he said. He unsheathed Xin Mo from his back. At once, demonic light flared to life on his forehead, his mark of sin burning like an ember.
"Demon!" Liu Qingge cried.
Luo Binghe sliced Xin Mo through the air, opening a jagged portal.
"Shizun," he said, "This one prepared a place in the demon realm that's comfortable and free of demonic energy. Please allow this one to take Shizun there, so he can recover without being disturbed."
Shen Qingqiu had a headache. He gave in to fate and let himself fall limp against Luo Binghe's firm chest.
"As Luo Binghe likes," he said, and Luo Binghe strode through the portal. There was a great deal of shouting behind them and what, indeed, sounded like the hissing of a giant snake.
