Chapter Text
When Luo Binghe opened his eyes, the first thing he thought of as the memories from the past night returned to his mind, was Shen Qingqiu.
A million words and sentences flooded his head, all of them coming together to curse that master of his for sending his weakest disciple to handle a night hunt that he knew he would not survive unscathed. A mission like this needed a group of disciples that had actual training and knowledge about the Gold Furred Winged Wolves. Instead, Luo Binghe, a disciple that had never encountered one nor had the necessary resources to learn about them, was sent to handle every single one.
It was his first solo mission. A job like this should have had him shaking in excitement because he was rarely sent out to do night hunts, much less a solo one. However, any spark of excitement was snuffed out when he learned of the beasts that he needed to deal with. It wasn’t that Luo Binghe was afraid. He would challenge and fight anything that could help him with his cultivation and standing in his sect.
It had to do with the fact that these wolves were a tad too advanced for his current skill level.
Luo Binghe should have known. Just like with every other opportunity he was given throughout his entire discipleship in Cang Qiong Sect, he shouldn’t have allowed himself to hope. Because hope only led to disappointment. How could he continue to hope that Shen Qingqiu would ever see him as anything but a beast. There was nothing Luo Binghe could do to change his master’s opinion of him.
A part of him thinks Shen Qingqiu might know about his heritage. And with no proof to match his claim, he sends Luo Binghe to these so called jobs that could very much well be suicide missions to be rid of him for good.
Luo Binghe shouldn’t even be surprised if that was true. Shen Qingqiu had sent him, two years ago when Luo Binghe was just fifteen years old, to fight an elder demon that swung a weapon drenched with a poison which had no cure.
Really. He was just lucky he was still alive at this point.
Blinking his heavy eyes, Luo Binghe took in his surroundings. His memory of the Gold Furred Winged Wolves was still hazy - he remembered running out of the village they were terrorizing last night, leading them deeper to the forest and into the array he’d set up. If he couldn’t physically fight all of them, then trapping the beasts in a sealing array was his best shot. He would lure them in and seal them away for later disposal.
The plan had been working. His trap was just about to activate when a strong wave of demonic energy exploded out of nowhere and blasted the array he just set up. Luo Binghe had been thrown against a tree, the back of his head thrashing hard against the root and bark.
For a second, he stayed on the ground, falling in and out of consciousness. He forced himself to fully wake, desperately calling out to Meng Mo for some assistance until something thin and coarse twisted around his ankle. Luo Binghe could only let out a startled scream before his body was suddenly pulled backwards, the thing attached to his leg merciless as it dragged him across the forest floor. Luo Binghe couldn’t even pull out his sword in time before darkness finally swept him.
The next he opened his eyes, there was light.
And an awful stench that was coming from his left.
Luo Binghe bolted upright, carelessly pulling Zheng Yang from its sheath once he caught his footing. The unknown blast of demonic qi had thrown him off, practically serving himself on a silver platter for the wolves. They were right behind his heel the entire time, angry and vengeful and ready to eat him if he dared make the wrong step. He expected the wolves to lunge at him at any second.
What he didn’t expect, however, was to see all the Gold Furred Winged Wolves dead by his feet.
Each and every one of them were sprawled all over the ground in front of Luo Binghe, lifeless and bleeding, their rotting meat attracting flies and insects. The shadows that casted over the dead wolves made Luo Binghe realize that the night had already passed.
Given the rotting smell coming out from the corpses, Luo Binghe reckoned he'd been out for hours. Had the explosion killed the wolves? If it did, then why wasn't Luo Binghe also dead?
Or did something else kill them?
Anything that managed to take down a dozen Golden Furred Winged Wolves meant danger, and Luo Binghe didn't want to face something even stronger unguarded. Turning around, Luo Binghe tried to find another person, or demon, that could be present with him right now. There was no other life around him, save for the birds and little creatures that lived in the trees. Nothing else seemed amiss…
… except that giant flower beside his feet.
Startled, Luo Binghe warily took a few steps back, eyeing the odd plant carefully. It looked like a lotus flower judging by the petals - but the colors were a bit amiss. Its petals were black, the tips turning a deep shade of red that made it look as if the flower was dipped in blood. The seed pod in the center was also stained red, its stems dancing left to right when a cool, soft breeze passed by.
Not only were its colors weird, the absolute size of the flower was unusual. Its height reached Luo Binghe's waist, and its width spanned almost twice the size of a Golden Furred Winged Wolf. Granted, there were more black lotus flowers surrounding it that were of normal size, Luo Binghe couldn't help but wonder how this one had grown to such proportions.
It was eerie. To see an oddly colored lotus flower here in the middle of a forest. There was no body of water surrounding them, instead, its stems were deeply planted in the soil. Peering further, Luo Binghe found himself puzzled at how dark the center of the flower was. The red seed pod in the middle doesn't appear to be attached to anything on the flower, yet they were there, floating above a bottomless void.
Luo Binghe took a few more steps away, wondering if the sudden odd whispering in his ears was Meng Mo trying to warn him about the flower in front of him.
“Does Shifu know of this plant?” Luo Binghe inquired.
This Elder has seen many of this world’s flora, Meng Mo hummed as he scanned the large lotus through Luo Binghe’s eyes. Yet this one is peculiar. Lotus flowers do come in all shapes and sizes. But this particular one is absolutely reeking of demonic energy.
Luo Binghe nodded. He thought so too. Though at his age and level of cultivation, Luo Binghe couldn’t see nor feel the full amount of demonic qi that Meng Mo can sense from this plant.
This Elder has never encountered one with qi such as this, Meng Mo huffed, appearing distraught. It seems familiar, but I cannot figure what entity it may be associated with. If that is what killed the Gold Furred Winged Wolves, then it's best to leave it alone for now, boy.
And with that, Luo Binghe turned back. He carefully maneuvered around the corpses of the Gold Furred Winged Wolves before slapping a talisman on their backs. In a few hours, the corpses will decay and wither before disappearing without a trace.
Sneaking one last glance at the black lotus, Luo Binghe sauntered forward and left the forest.
“Luo-gongzi!” An elderly woman called in relief at the sight of Luo Binghe. She stood by the forest’s entrance, a small group of villagers in tow. “Many thanks to the young master for handling such wicked beasts. And all on your own! As expected of Cang Qiong Sect’s Qing Jing Peak!”
“It was no problem, Ayi,” Luo Binghe replied, a bit awkward. He didn’t technically defeat the Gold Furred Winged Wolves by himself, so it seemed bad to steal another person’s - or thing, in this case - efforts. He did clean up the mess afterwards though, so he can’t feel too bad.
“Come come, why don’t you have a light meal before you set off? You are too skinny!” The woman fussed before pulling him inside her family home. “To think you can take out those types of monsters by yourself… your Shizun must be so proud!”
His master would be anything but proud to know that a plant had been the one to kill the wolves and not Luo Binghe. But Shen Qingqiu didn’t have to know that.
Luo Binghe sighed and let the elderly woman and other aunties fret all over him, giving him bowls of food and snacks as they thanked him for saving their village once again. (Again? Maybe another disciple had been assigned to this village before). He accepted their praise and generosity, even though he felt like he didn’t deserve it. But it felt nice. It reminded him of his own mother when he was little. All the fussing and harmless doting; like a mother hen over her little chicks.
After receiving another round of thank yous and kowtows, Luo Binghe met with the elder of the village to give his report. The elder thanked him profusely, shaking his hand before giving him the village’s token and payment to Cang Qiong Sect's service. Once Luo Binghe had everything packed and his horse all saddled and ready to go, he said his goodbyes and left.
The ride back to the mountain would take about two or three days at most, or one day if by sword, but Luo Binghe’s cultivation level wasn’t high enough to achieve such a task. He is able to do sword flight, but he didn’t have enough endurance to fly that long. A lot of his martial brothers and sisters could though, and it made Luo Binghe seeth in envy to think that even the youngest of disciples could do something as simple as long distance sword flight.
He’d read and practiced everything in his cultivation manual every day and night on top of his lessons and chores for the last seven years. Yet his progress seemed equivalent to a disciple's first year in cultivation. And trying to force himself to advance his cultivation was not an option.
The last time Luo Binghe forced himself to perfect all the forms and practices in his cultivation manual, he nearly drove himself to a qi deviation. Ning Yingying had just gotten in time to stop him before his meridians could rupture and collapse for good. It was so humiliating to be caught in such a state. Even if it was Ning Yingying that had found him, the only person that he was intimately close to; the only person to show him kindness in such a hellish place, Luo Binghe felt ashamed and frustrated. The world seemed against him; against his wishes, his dreams. He watched everyone else improve and move forward, while he was left behind with no one to stand by his side.
By the time he reached the bottom of the steps that lead to the gates of Cang Qiong Mountain, it was nearing dusk. Luo Binghe returned his horse to the stables, shaking his head when he thought the horse was giving him a wary look, as if Luo Binghe had somehow grown a second head. The horse had been antsy during the trip, going against Luo Binghe’s control and was often looking back to check on its rider.
Great, even animals seem to hate him.
Unsheathing his sword, Luo Binghe hopped on Zheng Yang and made his way to the top, ready to disappoint his master once again with another successful mission that didn’t drive him away from his peak for good.
Luo Binghe should have noticed that something was wrong when a disciple from another peak greeted him as he descended his sword. Good thing both his feet were on the ground already, because the disciple merely saying hi to him was enough to make him almost trip over his own feet. The unnamed disciple gave Luo Binghe a small nod and a confused smile before jumping on his own sword and flying away.
(Even at An Ding Peak, when Luo Binghe visits Shang Qinghua’s office to drop off the token and payment, the Peak Lord looks at him wearily, sweat beading on his temples as if Luo Binghe was going to turn around and attack at him at any second.)
Something similar to this exchange happened multiple times as he made his way to Qing Jing Peak. Everyone in the vicinity seemed to notice his return and happily greeted him back, all warm smiles and short waves as they questioned his recent night hunt.
“Welcome back, Luo-shidi!”
“How was shidi’s mission? You must tell this shijie at once!”
“Luo-shixiong looks unwell from his trip, let this shidi help him to Qian Cao Peak!”
This Elder is unnerved, Meng Mo said.
‘No kidding,’ Luo Binge replied, equally confused as Meng Mo. ‘Do you think they know about the mission? Has it reached Cang Qiong Sect already?’
That was impossible. Luo Binghe hasn’t submitted his report yet and any gossip from the coastal village he visited shouldn’t have caught the ears of his martial siblings yet. And taking down Gold Furred Winged Wolves wasn’t that grand to have warranted this much attention.
Luo Binghe had defeated a demon five times his size in front of the entire sect and no one had batted an eye. Yes, it made him quite known, it told everyone living in Cang Qiong Mountain that he existed, but it didn’t lead to the fame, respect, or praise he was receiving right now. He was still abused, his master still hated him - even more now - and other disciples barely talked to him.
Had something happened while he was gone?
“This shidi is fine. Thanking everyone for their concern,” Luo Binghe said before cupping his hands in salute. “But this disciple needs to submit his report, and cannot bear to leave Shizun waiting.”
A couple of his shimeis and shijies giggled, patting his shoulder before waving their goodbyes. Once they were out of sight, Luo Binghe let out a deep sigh.
With Meng Mo retreating back to the deepest corners of his head, Luo Binghe made his way to the woodshed, lost in his thoughts. What was going on today? He had a strange encounter with a monster-killing flower; his horse acted as if he murdered his brother; and now his martial siblings are actually talking to him? Acknowledging him? If he wasn’t skilled in dream manipulation, Luo Binghe would have thought he’d passed out in the middle of the road and started dreaming.
Or Meng Mo must have put him in a dream within a dream, something that irked Luo Binghe because he couldn’t quite master the way to get out of that situation yet. But Meng Mo had no reason to do such a thing, so Luo Binghe couldn’t possibly be in a dreamscape right now.
When the woodshed came into view, Luo Binghe felt his shoulders droop on relief. Despite his unsightly home, Luo Binghe was happy to be back to his own space. He did say he was going to give his report to Shen Qingqiu, but the man hasn’t seen him yet so he'll retire tonight and give him the paper work tomorrow. Just so he could avoid his scum of a teacher longer. The last thing he wanted to see today was his master’s seething glare and displeased frown.
Opening the door to the woodshed, Luo Binghe’s plans of plopping onto his bed (which was pretty much a table with some blankets on it) and sleeping the night away was stopped shortly when he found mountains of logs sitting on it. Well, it is a woodshed, and it shouldn’t surprise him to see that in here, but on his bed? And where had they put his blankets and other belongings? Can’t their unfortunate shidi sleep anymore? Where else was he to go, the dorms?
“Luo-shidi,” someone from behind him called.
Luo Binghe didn’t even need to turn to know who was standing behind him.
“Yes, Ming-shixiong?” Luo Binghe said through gritted teeth, unable to disguise the annoyance in his words. Then, he turns around. “What can this shidi do for Ming-shixiong?”
Ming Fan eyed him curiously, one brow arched, “I was just going to ask shidi what he was doing here. A few disciples have already finished stocking up the firewood for tomorrow.”
‘And you told them to stack all of it conveniently in the one place I can sleep?’ Luo Binghe wanted to hiss, but he knew better to talk back to Qing Jing Peak’s Head Disciple. “This shidi thinks the younger disciples made a mistake. They’ve put all the wood on my bed.”
“Your bed?” Ming Fan asked, almost incredulous. Just like the horse, Ming Fan looks at him as if Luo Binghe had a second head. “What do you mean your bed? That’s the woodshed.”
“Yes. Which also happens to be where I sleep.” And whose fault was that by the way?
Ming Fan looked even more confused. Meanwhile, Luo Binghe felt a vein pop. His patience was wearing thin, and he didn’t want to see his shixiong’s dumb face right now.
Then, after a second, a grin appeared on Ming Fan’s face.
Ah, there he is. For a second there, Luo Binghe thought Ming Fan had grown soft.
“Pfft,” the other boy snorted. “What? Did Shizun finally kick you out of the bamboo house?”
…
What.
“Has Shizun finally come to his senses and chased you back to your old room?”
What.
“I’m not going to give you the Head Disciple dorms. You already refused when Shizun offered them to you, so you better not take it back!”
“What?” Luo Binghe finally said, and it was his turn to look stupid and confused.
Ming Fan’s smile dropped. Instead, he frowned, his eyebrows furrowing and something else washed over his face. Concern was laced in his guarded expression, and it freaked Luo Bingh out a bit.
“Are you okay? I was just joking, Luo-shidi, don’t take it so seriously.” Ming Fan asked, putting his hands up in defense. Luo Binghe continued to gawk, the words Ming Fan was saying kept replaying in his head. “Uhm, did you hit your head or something? Hello? Luo-shidi, are you still there?”
Kid, this Elder isn’t too sure what’s happening right now, but something tells me you are no longer where you think you are, Meng Mo said. I will go and investigate. Close your mouth and play along.
When the Elder Demon dissipated from his mind, Luo Binghe closed his mouth and did as he’s told. No matter how confusing the situation seemed to be.
Luo Binghe cleared his throat. “No, I think I’m just a bit tired, shixiong,” he managed to croak out. “I hit my head a bit when I was fighting the Gold Furred Winged Wolves.”
“Why don’t you go to Mu-shishu? Shizun is still there right now,” Ming Fan said.
“This shidi is fine. I think I’ll feel better when I sleep,” Luo Binghe said, then reluctantly, “At… the bamboo house. Which I will go to right now.”
Ming Fan took a few seconds before replying, “O… kay. Then this shixiong will leave you now.”
With that, he leaves, but not without shooting him another confused glance. Luo Binghe waits until he can't hear Ming Fan’s footsteps anymore, and then shrinks down to the floor against the woodshed’s door.
When Meng Mo comes back to deliver the news, he finds the boy passed out. Whether from exhaustion or the mounting confusion he’d had from this entire week, Meng Mo decides to let him stay like that for a few minutes.
Luo Binghe stared at the bamboo house in front of him, his senses telling him to get the hell out of here before a certain sword came flying to pierce his chest for daring to even breathe in the same space as this house.
I was right, Meng Mo said. Although I couldn’t get all the information I needed, not with all these disciples still awake and running about, I can confirm that we are no longer in our world. The setting is nearly identical, but there is something amiss that makes it different from our own.
‘Shifu, do you think the flower might have something to do with it?’ Luo Binghe asked, still a bit shaken by this fact.
I have no doubts about it, Meng Mo replied. This Elder has never seen anything like this. During my search, I recognized many of the disciples you encounter in our world. Including your little girlfriend. If they have counterparts here, then you must certainly have one as well.
He didn’t think it was impossible for there to be other worlds out there, but one so similar and yet so unlike his own? In some alternate reality where apparently his life didn’t suck and his master actually tolerated him enough that he let Luo Binghe live in his house?
So, are you going to come in, or no? That master of yours is at another peak. This would be the perfect time to investigate and see who this other you is before they figure out something is wrong, Meng Mo advised.
Where was this other Luo Binghe? He couldn’t possibly be here as well. The other disciples had welcomed him home, which means the other Luo Binghe was also sent on a mission to eradicate the Gold Furred Winged Wolves.
If Luo Binghe didn’t see him in the village, then that could only mean one thing.
Steeling himself, Luo Binghe marches towards the bamboo house and slips inside. The last time he was here, it had been when he was ten years old; his first day in Cang Qiong Mountain; the day he climbed up thousands of steps thinking it would lead to a new life that would be kinder; the day he realized that no, this new life was not kinder, instead, much cruel than the terrors he experienced in the streets. He realized this when Shen Qingqiu had spilled hot tea on his head and made his distaste for him known.
Maybe, in this world, that never happened.
Luo Binghe is greeted by silence within the small home. Unfamiliar with the structure of the house, Luo Binghe went from room to room, steadily ignoring the large, intricately decorated door on the right that he assumed might be Shen Qingqiu’s.
His search led him to the kitchen area, which, to his surprise, was fully furnished with a complete set of cooking equipment, a cabinet full of ingredients, spices, and sauces, and multiple stocks of different types of tea, some almost running out than others.
A cultivator at Shen Qingqiu’s level would never bother to eat given they practice inedia. Even if they choose to eat something light from time to time, their food was usually prepared by their chefs in the main kitchens and delivered to them by their Head Disciples.
Was his counterpart cooking for him? Luo Binghe almost laughed at that. He’d never imagined cooking for someone like Shen Qingqiu. Luo Binghe knows his talent in the kitchen. He’s fairly confident in his skills in that area. In his world, only Ning Yingying, or Liu Mingyuan occasionally whenever she visits Qing Jing Peak, could get a taste of the food that he cooks.
But Shen Qingqiu? Luo Binghe’ eyes twitched at that thought.
After spending a few more minutes glaring at the kitchen, Luo Binghe makes his way to the side room. Sliding the door open, he is greeted by a spotless little world of its own. Just like the kitchen, the room was completely equipped with bamboo furniture. A neat bed was tucked in the corner, and a small stand was beside it with scrolls and brushes laid atop. Curious, Luo Binghe opened one of the cabinets to see white robes folded impeccably, and there were even jade accessories of high quality neatly tucked on the side.
Luo Binghe’s heart ached when he remembered the jade guanyin that his mother had gifted him when he was a child. For a second, he thinks, if this world was truly different from his own, then that would mean that that jade necklace would still be here. He looked for it immediately, his hands hastily twisting and turning every jade accessory in the cabinet, only to be disappointed when his search became fruitless. If that necklace did survive, then his counterpart was surely wearing it.
A heavy feeling anchors itself in Luo Binghe’s heart, replacing the warm sentiment with something more ugly.
Luo Binghe closes the cabinet, a bit too harshly he realises when he hears multiple clinks from the jade accessories from within. Oops. Hopefully none of them cracked.
(Luo Binghe hopes at least one of them did).
Next, Luo Binghe’s eyes land on the table across the bed. As he took a seat on the bamboo chair, Luo Binghe gave a quick scan at the items sitting on top of it. Multiple scrolls, books, brushes, trinkets and even missives neatly decorate the table. A small piece of paper was glued on the wall right over the desk. It looked like it was the other Luo Binghe’s schedule for different days. Compared to his life in the other world, the other Luo Binghe appears to have more tasks and jobs on his hands.
And no, his jobs weren’t anything similar to the nonsense chores like chopping up wood or collecting water that were usually delegated to the younger disciples.
No. This other Luo Binghe worked as if he was the Head Disciple.
Remembering what this world’s Ming Fan said, his counterpart may as well be.
That heavy feeling in his chest only weighed even more with this knowledge.
The other Luo Binghe had proper classes and lessons. Was regularly included in missions and night hunts, with most of them being solo. He even handled peak matters given the mountain of documents and missives sitting on the corner.
On top of that, the other Luo Binghe even had things like Shizun’s breakfast, Shizun’s lunch, Shizun’s dinner, Shizun’s morning tea and snack, Shizun’s afternoon tea and snack, Shizun’s midnight snack all written in bold, cinnabar ink in very specific times, as if afraid that it would be missed. Even things like cleaning the bamboo house and washing Shen Qingiu’s laundry were written there.
Luo Binghe had to rub his eyes before looking at the schedule again.
(Since when does a Peak Lord snack?
And what was this obsession with Shen Qingqiu’s food?)
This other you seems…. Meng Mo starts, a bit unsure how to describe it.
Turning his attention to the chest under the table, Luo Binghe, without a sense of privacy, opens the lid and starts sorting through the dozens of scrolls and papers stacked inside. Poems, stories, several notes on demonic beasts, and even paintings fill the storage box. This might be the other Luo Binghe’s archive for his works and assignments, if the red marks dotting every page didn’t make it obvious.
Luo Binghe quickly scans through the papers, finding familiarity with the calligraphy, except the ones written here appear cleaner. Each stroke was sharp and precise, while Luo Binghe’s own writing, despite learning all his letters now, remained clumsy and uncoordinated. The calligraphy dancing on these pages scream a proper education, proper care, proper training-
Calm down, kid, Meng Mo warned. Losing your temper will risk demonic qi to seep out of you.
Shaking his head, Luo Binghe continues digging through the graded work, ignoring the perfect marks noted in every page, and finds himself digging through the bottom papers. Unlike the other scrolls, these appear to be strategically hidden under everything else. Very easy to overlook if someone wasn’t looking for them specifically. Luo Binghe happened to chance upon them because he was intentionally sneaking around his counterpart’s room.
After unfolding the hidden scrolls, Luo Binghe lets out a small gasp.
A portrait of Shen Qingqiu greets his gaze. The Peak Lord in the painting was sitting on a low table, sipping a steaming cup of tea while his eyes were closed. Each stroke of paint danced across the crisp paper; every black line precisely, but carefully, drawn - not too stiff, else the painting would lose its balance. The picture depicted a serene, calm atmosphere that would make any Peak Lord of Qing Jing proud.
Luo Binghe finds himself drawn by the person in the picture. The colors worked well with each other to bring life to the man, as though Luo Binghe was looking at him now. The look on Shen Qingqiu’s face was soft; features slack and at peace; so unlike the icy and seething look that Luo Binghe was familiar with.
The other paintings carried a similar theme. Despite the different backgrounds and angles, all of them depicted the same man, drawn in a way as if Shen Qingqiu was the center of the universe.
Those paintings don’t have marks in them, Meng Mo mentioned, sharing Luo Binghe’s thoughts that these were secretly made. This other you had willingly drew Shen Qingqiu as if he was some god he worships every night. This Elder won’t be surprised if you find one a bit racy-
While the dream demon was snickering, Luo Binghe took one last look at the paintings before shoving them back to where he found them. No wonder they were so expertly hidden. It wasn’t just the fact that it was Shen Qingqiu, their master, that was drawn, it was how intimately he was drawn. These paintings were not rushed. Instead, hours of time and effort appear to have been dedicated to create such a piece of work.
This other him seems to harbor feelings that were far from filial for his master.
Which blows Luo Binghe’s mind because out of everyone in this world, why would the other him be attracted to Shen Qingqiu? Though Luo Binghe may be biased, given his experience with his own world’s Shen Qingqiu, but why him out of all the people? What makes him so special than others?
If this other him had so much time in his hands; so many opportunities thrown at him; why waste it on Shen Qingqiu? If Luo Binghe were in his place, he would be outside all of the time making a name for himself. He could have anyone he wanted.
But for some reason, this other Luo Binghe preferred to stay in this nest and act like some perfect little house husband. Cooking for him, cleaning his house and clothes, sorting his missives, drawing him with so much affection like a lover would…
… why?
Luo Binghe’s thoughts were interrupted when he heard commotion outside. He hurriedly cleans up the scene to erase tracks of his snooping, until he remembers this was supposed to be his room at the moment.
A chorus of disciples crying Shizun echoes from the front door as Luo Binghe steps out from the side room. From the window, he sees a flock of young disciples, all of them talking over one another as they crowd around a tall figure wrapped in green and white robes.
It was Shen Qingqiu.
Luo Binghe could recognize that tall, imposing silhouette from anywhere.
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Shen Qingqiu clicks his tongue. Despite only seeing the Peak Lord’s back, Luo Binghe could already hear the strums of annoyance in his tone. “Cease this nonsense at once.”
Despite being reprimanded, the disciples’ cries only grew louder and distressed, ultimately ignoring their master's orders. Luo Binghe watches, stupefied, at the children clutching on Shen Qingqiu’s robes.
“Aiyah, when have all of you become so stubborn,” Shen Qingqiu sighed before pinching the bridge of his nose. “This master is fine. Now go and head to your dorms. I will not repeat myself.”
“But, Shizun!”
“I ought to make you all run ten laps around the peak before supper. How does that sound, hm?” Shen Qingqiu says, more sternly this time. The disciples all groan before nodding reluctantly. “Good. Now run along before I change my mind.”
The tiny flock disperse like ants right after, some of them giggling, while some turn worried eyes back at their master.
Luo Binghe watches the past interaction with utter bafflement. He was a bit taken aback by the disciples’ audacity to act so improperly in front of a Peak Lord. Even if they were young, disciples at their age were taught to have respect and decorum when dealing with their elders and older martial siblings.
But these disciples were the opposite of propriety. They latched onto Shen Qingqiu like candy, not unlike baby ducklings chasing after their mother. They freely ignored proper decorum right in front of their master. As if there were no consequences to their actions.
Luo Binghe had simply muttered something under his breath once and that had earned him forty slashes across his back.
A small creak in the floorboard brings Luo Binghe’s attention back to the present. He didn’t have time to prepare himself mentally when the front door suddenly slid open, revealing Shen Qingqiu on the other side. An opened, elaborate fan decorated with bamboo shoots separates him and the Peak Lord.
The Shen Qingqiu in front of him carried an air of aloofness behind the curtains of that fan, his phoenix eyes staring calmly on the ground before glancing up to catch his disciple’s gaze. For a second, Luo Binghe thinks of how similar this Shen Qingqiu looked to his own master in his world. Tall, pristine; a perfect, untouchable immortal master whose scowl could make every disciple in the vicinity tremble and shake.
Luo Binghe remembers the seething glares and ugly frowns Shen Qingqiu wears whenever he sees him. He expects those same features to mirror in this Shen Qingqiu’s face as well.
Instead, the vision shatters when Shen Qingqiu’s eyes turn into gentle crescents. He closes his fan right after, revealing a small, genuine smile that was hiding behind it.
“Ah, Binghe! You’re back!” Shen Qingqiu greets, his smile unwavering. “And right on schedule too.”
A hand suddenly plants itself on Luo Binghe’s head. It delivers two small taps on his head, neither heavy nor light. Despite the gentle action, however, at the same moment, he remembers that same hand reaching forward to strike him across the face; he remembers it holding a whip and the sting of it when it lands on his back; he remembers it upturning a cup to douse his head full of hot, scalding tea -
All of these flash in front of Luo Binghe's eyes side by side in fast cadence, and eventually, the flinch he has been trying to suppress breaks out, inevitably catching the Peak Lord's attention.
“Binghe?”
“I… I-” Luo Binghe stutters, his mind going blank. He could hear Meng Mo sputtering in his head, telling him to say this or that, but Luo Binghe couldn’t hear any of it. He could only focus on how Shen Qingqiu’s face was twisting into worry; of how the raw, unfiltered concern was beginning to show in his eyes.
“Is Binghe alright?” The hand over his bangs withdraw, and Shen Qingqiu steps away to put some distance between them. “This master assumes the night hunt didn’t go so well?”
Even if the mission did in fact end in a failure, Shen Qingqiu should be furious. If not, disappointed; to know that one of his disciples had dishonored and embarrassed him. Instead, he stands in front of Luo Binghe wearing the wrong expression; as if Shen Qingqiu was the one feeling guilty of Luo Binghe’s unsuccessful night hunt.
Shen Qingqiu sighed before Luo Binghe had a chance to reply. “This master shouldn’t have sent you alone. Binghe is strong and has greatly improved his martial prowess, but to take down Gold Furred Winged Wolves is no easy feat to do alone. This Shizun should have known better.”
“No, Shizun, I-... this disciple did complete his mission,” Luo Binghe said, finally releasing the breath that he didn’t know he was holding. “This disciple managed to take them down. It was just as Shizun said. It was no easy task, and this disciple had suffered a few injuries, but I-”
When Luo Binghe had uttered the word ‘injury’, Shen Qingqiu’s eyes widened and he quickly ushered them into the main room.
“What injuries?” Shen Qingqiu asked, opening his hand to gesture for Luo Binghe to offer his wrist.
At the same time, an idea quickly forms in Luo Binghe’s head.
“This disciple was careless and didn’t notice one of them sneaking behind me. Before I knew it, I was flung back. I hit my head pretty hard against a tree. This disciple has been a bit disoriented since then,” Luo Binghe explained. It wasn’t a total lie. This could at least help him cover up why he was acting different from the other Luo Binghe that Shen Qingqiu was familiar with.
Shen Qingqiu takes the offered wrist and inspects his meridians. “Binghe should have gone straight to Mu-shidi.”
Luo Binghe shook his head. “It’s alright, Shizun. This disciple feels better, if not a bit confused…”
“Confused?”
“I’m afraid there’s a few things that I don’t remember,” Luo Binghe said, which made Shen Qingqiu’s brows furrow, and the beginning signs of panic seem to bubble behind those green eyes.
Shen Qingqiu takes a few minutes to inspect his meridians. After a thorough search, it seems he doesn’t find anything too abnormal in his person, but that doesn’t stop the worried glances in his face.
“Binghe must have had a concussion,” Shen Qingqiu said. “I think we need to get you to Mu-shidi.”
“No!” Luo Binghe exclaims. He quickly clears his throat. “I mean-... there’s nothing to worry about, Shizun. I do feel better now. It’s just that I can’t seem to remember a few things.”
“Temporary amnesia is to be expected,” Shen Qingqiu mutters, still hesitant about Luo Binghe’s decision to not go to Mu Qingfang. “What does Binghe remember? Tell this master and we can work from there.”
For the next few minutes, Luo Binghe explains that he doesn’t remember staying in the bamboo house with Shen Qingqiu, to which Shen Qingqiu asks if the last place he remembers sleeping in was the woodshed.
The woodshed?
Luo Binghe watched as Shen Qingqiu rubbed a hand over his face, looking as if a million thoughts were running in his head.
“If that is so, then Binghe’s memories are missing almost two years of his life,” Shen Qingqiu said before settling his gaze back to him. “Does Binghe remember the demon invasion that happened? The one that the demoness Sha Hualing led?”
Luo Binghe nods. So that has happened in this world too.
“Does Binghe also remember fighting Elder Tian Chui?”
A beat passes, and Luo Binghe nods once again.
“After the events of that day, this master asked you to move to the side room when I found out about your… prior living conditions.”
“En… this disciple, somewhat remembers something like that,” Luo Binghe replied.
“Good,” Shen Qingqiu said, sighing in relief. “We can work it out like this so you can gain your memories faster. If not, then we’ll need to see Mu-shidi. No exceptions, Binghe. This master doesn’t want to hear any objections.”
Luo Binghe nods, and he opens his mouth, but no words seem to come out. The discovery that his counterpart had lived in the woodshed confused him. Wasn’t this world supposed to be a better version? Why had the other Luo Binghe stayed in the woodshed? That implied that he too was cast out from the disciple dorms. He too was subjected to the bullying brought by the older disciples.
He too was sent to fight an elder demon by his master.
Before Luo Binghe could get further lost in his thoughts, the door to the bamboo house slammed open with a force that shook the four walls around them. Footsteps, loud and heavy, began striding through the small hallway connecting the front door and main room.
Shen Qingqiu didn’t even look fazed by the sudden intrusion.
“Liu-shidi,” he called out without turning his head.
A second later, another person steps into the room that he and Shen Qingqiu were in. The first thing that popped in Luo Binghe’s mind was Liu Mingyuan, but that thought was shut down instantly when he realised that the person that stepped in the room was a man.
The newcomer was tall, much taller than Shen Qingqiu, with a physique and build similar to that of a warrior. His robes were white with light blue around the seams, and it took only a second for Luo Binghe to deduce that this man was from Bai Zhan Peak.
The fact that someone from Bai Zhan Peak was loitering around Qing Jing Peak wasn’t what shocked Luo Binghe, it was the man himself.
Liu-shidi, Shen Qingqiu had said.
“Liu…?” Luo Binghe starts, earning the other Peak Lord’s attention, who raises a brow at him. “Liu… Qingge?”
“Liu-shishu, Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu scolds firmly, but his eyes were soft, more amused than reprimanding.
A dark look paints Liu Qingge’s face, but he ignores Luo Binghe and shoots a glare at Shen Qingqiu. Luo Binghe expects to see sparks fly and a fight to ensue, knowing that in his world, these two were more or less enemies and to see them at arms length could only mean that a brawl was about to start, verbally or physically.
“Shen Qingqiu,” Liu Qingge spits through gritted teeth. In a surprising turn of events, the War God doesn’t say anything further, nor draw his sword, Cheng Luan. Instead, he takes Shen Qingqiu’s arm without a word and puts two fingers over the latter’s wrist.
Shen Qingqiu doesn’t even bat an eye at the brutish behavior in front of him. “And what brings Liu-shidi to this master’s humble abode?”
“Your disciple said you fell off your sword.” He replied succinctly, without missing a beat. Liu Qingge’s eyes remained fixed on Shen Qingqiu’s wrist, glowering at it as if he could see the latter’s meridians through his skin.
“Aiyah, Ming Fan,” Shen Qingqiu mutters, annoyed. He pulls his hand from Liu Qingge’s hold. “This master can assure Liu-shidi that he is fine. And I did not fall, I merely slipped-”
“They said you fell right after stepping on Xiu Ya,” Liu Qingge interrupts.
“Okay, maybe I was a bit distracted, but Mu-shidi has already assured me-”
“Shen Qinqiu, take this seriously!” Liu Qingge exclaims. “You know you're not supposed to use sword flight."
Shen Qingqiu’s eyebrow twitched, looking as if he wanted to argue further, but relented and sighed heavily instead. As though he knew better than to argue against an immovable, stubborn mountain.
“Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu turns to his disciple instead, who was watching their interaction quietly. “You can go ahead and get some rest.”
It was Luo Binghe's chance to escape to the side room, to take some time to process everything he's seen so far, but a part of him wanted to stay. To stay a bit longer and learn more about this world that was so similar to his own.
Besides, the two very outliers that made this world different from his were standing in the room with him.
Remembering the other Luo Binghe's schedule, he says, despite Meng Mo's complaints. “This disciple isn’t tired, Shizun. I'm sure Shizun is hungry. This disciple can prepare something for you to eat.”
Shen Qingqiu shook his head. “No need for that for tonight, Binghe. Though could you please make some tea?”
Luo Binghe simply nodded before bowing. “This disciple will have it done immediately, Shizun.”
Making his way to the kitchen, Luo Binghe opened the cabinet he remembered holding the tea stock and picked the jar that had the least amount of leaves in it. While Luo Binghe waits for the water to boil, he listens in to the conversation down the hall. The kitchen was a bit far from the main room, so Luo Binghe sticks an ear out of the hallway to eavesdrop, like one of those nosy ladies he’s seen down the mountain.
“Your disciple is already too old to still be living with you,” Liu Qingge said. “Why still let him?”
“This master had offered him the Head Disciple dorms multiple times before, but he always refuses, so why keep asking him?”
Liu Qingge muttered something under his breath, so low that Luo Binghe didn’t catch it.
Shen Qingqiu scoffed. “I don’t coddle my disciples.”
“Yes you do," Liu Qingge bluntly replied. "You’re too soft with them, especially that Luo Binghe. You coddled him and look how he is now. Spoiled and disrespectful.”
“Binghe isn’t disrespectful,” Shen Qingqiu replied, and for the first time, Luo Binghe hears genuine annoyance in his tone. “Well… this master admits, he is a bit spoiled, but not disrespectful! This master made sure of it.”
Liu Qingge doesn’t say anything but a mere grunt.
“If anything, Liu-shidi is too harsh with his own disciples. How can they learn when all you do is beat them up whenever you see them? Mu-shidi has been voicing his grievances about all the disciples you send to his peak.”
“They know what they expected when they joined Bai Zhan Peak. If they don’t like being there, they can leave.”
When their conversation turned into peak matters, Luo Binghe ceased his eavesdropping and started seeping the tea leaves. While waiting, he summons Meng Mo,
‘When Elder said that something was amiss with this world, could it be Shen Qingqiu?’
Yes. I know your master. I’ve seen how he is through your eyes. But this Shen Qingqiu, Meng Mo starts.
‘He’s different,’ Luo Binghe continues. ‘It’s like he’s a different person.’
The disciples’ memories tell me he had a Qi deviation a few years ago. And that Qi deviation had changed him drastically. If this world’s time is aligned to ours, then I wouldn’t have been present when your world’s Shen Qingqiu had one. Did he?
‘I’ve heard rumors of him Qi deviating multiple times during my time in Qing Jing Peak, but he’s always been the same,’ Luo Binghe said. ‘He never… changed. He’s nothing like this Shen Qingqiu.’
Even if his master did Qi deviate to an extreme, they wouldn’t have known about it. Shen Qingqiu would make sure of it.
Eyes strained on the hallway, to the room behind it that hid the strange, kind Shen Qingqiu, ‘Shifu, could this be where our worlds diverge?’
Maybe. Looks like this other you had the better upbringing, Meng Mo teases, because he is a bit of an ass sometimes.
Luo Binghe steadily ignores him as Meng Mo disappears back to the recesses of his mind. Once the tea was ready, Luo Binghe set everything on a tray. It takes him a few minutes to get everything ready, still so unused to the layout of the kitchen. When he walks out with the tray in his hands, he stops in the hallway for a second and closes his eyes, suppressing the memory of the first and last time he served tea to Shen Qingqiu.
When Luo Binghe’s hands stop shaking, he saunters forward to enter the main living area with a purpose, only to lose the calm he’d been building and almost drops the tray on the floor.
Shen Qingqiu’s outer robe was clean off his shoulders, the sleeves hanging from his elbows instead, giving him a scandalous, somewhat underdressed look. Meanwhile, Liu Qingge’s robes remained intact, however, both his arms were stretched forward, his palms planted firmly against Shen Qingqiu’s shoulder blades.
Luo Binghe stands by the hallway, mouth agape, unsure if he should walk in while they’re… doing that. It looked like a meridian cleanse, which, to his knowledge, was a bit of an intense process and to see these two supposed rivals in an… intimate position caught him off guard.
Yes, definitely outliers.
Are these two perhaps… cultivation partners? Luo Binghe doesn’t even want to imagine how his other self would react if this was the case.
Liu Qingge was the first to notice him, and all he does is scoff.
This sound catches Shen Qingqiu’s attention, and he turns to Liu Qingge with a disappointed look.
“Liu-shidi… stop bullying him. He hit his head really hard when he was out on his last mission.” Liu Qingge gives him a look, but Shen Qingqiu appears to not understand what the former was trying to convey. “He’s even lost some of his memories.”
“He’ll be fine. The disciples in my peak get concussions and lose their memories all the time.”
“And whose fault do you think that is?” Shen Qingqiu rolled his eyes.
Luo Binghe sets the tray down and pours tea over two cups. Forcing his hands to stop shaking, he offered one cup to Shen Qingqiu and watched the latter take it with a nod. The Peak Lord takes a sip from the offered cup, and from the small quirk curling on the corner of his lips, Luo Binghe concludes it was right to assume that the tea he had picked was his favorite.
“Is there anything else that Shizun needs?”
Shen Qingqiu shook his head. “No, not anymore. Thank you for the tea, Binghe. It tastes perfect. Why don’t you go ahead and get some rest?”
Luo Binghe watched as Shen Qingqiu finished the tea. His eyes followed the cup, and when Shen Qingqiu pulled it from his lips and set it on the low table, Luo Binghe bowed his head. “This disciple will take his leave now, Shizun.”
“Mm, goodnight, Binghe.”
For every second that passes in this strange world, several questions only seem to pile up in Luo Binghe’s head. He couldn’t get his answers just from watching and listening; nor can he ask people without risking his cover, even with the safety net that was the lie about his temporary memory loss.
Nevertheless, Luo Binghe realized he doesn’t need to ask any questions.
He can get his answers tonight.
After pestering Meng Mo to let him in Shen Qingqiu’s dreamscape, Luo Binghe finds himself where he wants to be.
His first day in Qing Jing Peak. That is, the other Luo Binghe’s first day in Qing Jing Peak.
He sees the ten year old boy kneeling by Shen Qingqiu, his head looking up to watch his soon-to-be master eyeing the tea he’d just prepared with a frown.
“This world’s Shen Qingqiu continues to amaze this Elder,” Meng Mo said as he materialized behind him. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”
Luo Binghe nodded in agreement. He wasn’t a stranger in dreamwalking, nor was this his first time snooping in someone’s memories, so the oddities in this dreamscape had caught his attention.
He himself remembers these painful memories. Have sometimes been pulled into these specific moments in his life involuntarily whenever his cultivation was unstable. But regardless of the situation, the avatars and surroundings of the memories he visits were often crystal clear.
However, even with Meng Mo on his side, the memories of this Shen Qingqiu look fractured and foggy. It was as if he and Meng Mo were watching the memories underwater. If Luo Binghe wasn’t so familiar with the scene in front of him, he wouldn’t even know what was going on.
Luo Binghe’s eyes followed Shen Qingqiu’s blurry figure as he approached his counterpart’s younger self. There was no mistaking it; Shen Qingqiu flips the tea cup in one swift move and Luo Binghe flinches when he hears the pained gasp from his counterpart’s younger self. The cup topples on the floor and Shen Qingqiu walks away without a word.
The scene in front of them fades into the next encounter with his other self. Luo Binghe watches the rest of the memories as if they were his own. The time he got kicked out from the disciple dorms; the cold and drafty nights spent in the woodshed; the torment from his martial siblings; the hours spent kneeling on the ground that lasted from a blazing afternoon and well into the night; the lack of meals-
This world’s Luo Binghe had suffered just like him.
Just as the thought popped up, the Shen Qingqiu avatar, who was just leaving the main hall in Qiong Ding Peak, suddenly stills before falling down to his knees. Shouts erupt from behind him, and the dreamscape collapses as Shen Qingqiu’s consciousness fades.
When the next memory resurfaces, it is clear and sharp, as though the memories have pulled themselves up from the cold depths of the sea.
“Where is Luo Binghe?”
Just like Yue Qingyuan in the memory, Luo Binghe freezes.
“Hm,” Meng Mo hums as he watches the scene in front of him. “There’s something about Shen Qingqiu’s dreamscape that feels out of place, but this Elder cannot see what it is exactly.”
Luo Binghe leaves Meng Mo with his thoughts, and instead, focuses on the Shen Qingqiu currently sitting on the bed, looking very much like a kid lost in the middle of a market. Despite being inside the Peak Lord’s dreamscape, Luo Binghe couldn’t exactly tell what they were thinking or feeling at the moment. Sometimes Shen Qingqiu looked aloof, and then confused, and then annoyed, and then antsy, and eventually, fell unconscious at the mention of the other Luo Binghe being locked in the woodshed.
Anyone would think the Peak Lord must have hit his head and lost the horrible memories that made him a terrible person.
But Luo Binghe doesn’t think so.
Meng Mo plays with the memories and has them speed up, much to Luo Binghe’s dismay.
“Look, kid, you can’t expect to watch three years worth of memories in one night,” Meng Mo said. “You just need to see enough of their interactions so you can mimic your counterpart. Shen Qingqiu might not be suspicious now, but he will once he catches your bluff. Not to mention how confusing his dreamscape and memories are. This Elder is having a hard time keeping all of this together.”
And with that, Luo Binghe could only watch the memories play in a fast sequence. Some of them they had to skip, and some they slowed down to carefully observe, especially the ones that were drastically different from his world.
Like this one.
Meng Mo released a surprised hum when Shen Qingqiu jumped in front of his disciple to shield him from Elder Tian Chui’s sudden attack. The demon is pierced by Xiu Ya, but doesn’t let that stop him from advancing forward to smite Shen Qingqiu with the poisoned spikes in his armor. It becomes a blur after that, and Meng Mo gives some remarks and comments about everything, but Luo Binghe lets the words simply come in one ear and out the other.
Luo Binghe slows down the memory and stares at Shen Qingqiu, who was now on the floor spitting out blood and looking as if he was going to fall unconscious again. However, just before does so, he lifts a hand and pats the other Luo Binghe’s head.
“I knew that… you’d definitely win,” Shen Qingqiu manages to choke out despite the blood spilling from his lips. The other Luo Binghe’s eyes widen, and he trembles as though a tremor shook his entire core.
Behind them, Luo Binghe experienced a similar reaction.
And comes to a revelation.
That man is not Shen Qingqiu.
Or at least, not the Shen Qingqiu that took him to his peak and tormented and abused him from then on.
Luo Binghe had his suspicious when the Skinner Demon mission played out, and only now, after watching this Shen Qingqiu risk his life and cripple his cultivation for the other Luo Binghe - who would have been fine by the way, because in his world, when Elder Tian Chui charged to attack Luo Binghe for revenge, the Elder demon had tripped over his broken hammer and miraculously missed Luo Binghe by a mile, and would have been fine regardless, because he was a demon and was immune from the poison - he was convinced that the person wearing Shen Qingqiu’s skin was someone else.
Why wouldn’t he be? It was inconsistent to be an abusive, hateful master in one second, and then suddenly become a kind, caring one in another, one who would willingly sacrifice himself just to save a nameless kid he despised just months ago. It couldn’t be a case of amnesia, because the Shen Qingqiu post-qi deviation knew who he was and how things in his peak operated. He clearly knew the life he had lived before the qi deviation.
No. Whoever he was, he was not the Shen Qingqiu that Luo Binghe was familiar with.
And he had an inkling feeling that his other self knew it too.
The memories continue flowing at high speed, and Luo Binghe specifically picks a few to watch more carefully. He didn’t bother looking at Shen Qingqiu’s interactions with other people. He selects memories that involve the other Luo Binghe only, and as he watches glimpses of his other self’s life here, of his life with this kind Shizun. Luo Binghe feels the heavy prickle in heart again.
Luo Binghe watches a small, quiet, and timid boy grow up into a young man brimming with confidence and strength. He sees the boy train under careful hands and gentle eyes, patiently guiding him through every sword form, every lesson, and every practice available under the damn sun. He sees the boy train with clumsy footwork, tripping over his own feet and crashing against his master multiple times. But no punishment follows despite the tumble.
“Apologies Shizun… this disciple is useless. My legs have no more strength after running ten laps. This disciple will do twenty laps around the peak to compensate!” The other Luo Binghe exclaims, his face determined as he gazes up at Shen Qingqiu as if he hung the moon and stars for him.
“What twenty? Binghe should go and get some rest instead,” Shen Qingqiu said and crossed his arms. “It seems the lack of proper sleep is affecting your training. What did this master say about staying up late? I’m sure I taught you better than that.”
The other Luo Binghe looked down as if ashamed. “This disciple was wrong for disobeying Shizun’s orders. He will accept any punishment Shizun gives him.”
While Luo Binghe did absolutely everything within his power to avoid getting punished, this other him seems to relish in the idea of being punished by his master. A memory slips by out of pure coincidence, and it is of Luo Binghe getting lightly hit by Shen Qingqiu’s fan after saying something so brazen. The brat was even bowing his head for easier reach.
(Not only was this other Luo Binghe shameless, he was obviously a masochist!)
The more he learns about his counterpart, of his life here in this world, with a kind Shizun that endlessly doted and indulged him, the more his heart darkened with contempt. Why? For what reason was his other self given a life that Luo Binghe could only dream to have? How did he get this Shizun while Luo Binghe was left with a scum that was rotten and abusive? While his counterpart was constantly showered with kindness and praise, Luo Binghe, on the other hand, was degraded, starved, and punished over and over again!
It was so infuriating.
And so unfair.
If anything, Luo Binghe should feel disgust and hate. Because connected to his days of pain and suffering via a thousand inseparable threads was the man in front of him. Luo Binghe’s eyes peered at his dream avatar standing over a hill overlooking a sunset. His green and white robes fluttered behind him, together with his pin-straight hair that made him look more of the regal and untouchable immortal master that he was.
Yet, after the many revelations Luo Binghe learned today, he couldn’t bring himself to feel contempt.
Instead, he felt want. Luo Binghe wanted this; he wanted this life, this world that had this strange, yet kind Shizun.
He had a taste of what it was like to receive such kindness and indulgence from him, and now he wanted more.
Luo Binghe doesn’t even notice his hand lifting on its own, slowly inching forward as if to grasp onto his master’s sleeves-
“Shizun-”
“Shizun!”
Luo Binghe’s fingers curl against nothing, for the hand that he had wanted to grab onto was whisked away, out of reach.
His other self appears, younger this time, all wide smiles and sparkling eyes as he gazes up at the Peak Lord with a look of pride, all the while clutching at his master’s sleeve like a child. Shizun only chuckles at this, his eyes crinkling from laughter despite the small hands dirtying his white and pristine robes. Shizun indulges him, praises him for the first successful night hunt that he had accomplished all on his own.
The hand that had been reaching forward tightens to a fist by Luo Binghe’s side.
For a second, Luo Binghe imagines himself standing in front of this kind Shizun; he imagines himself to be one to receive his praise; he imagines those gentle hands running over his curly locks; he imagines being the one to stand by his side, and not him.
A decision begins to form in his head. It didn’t take long for him to decide the next step he needed to take.
Luo Binghe knew what he wanted.
It was right here, just an arms length reach.
And he’ll be damned if he lets it go.