Archive of Our Own

YEAR ONE

Truthfully, what he’d dreaded the most was telling Ning Yingying. Ever since Shen Qingqiu had met the girl, there had been something about her which drew him in, which made him feel protective of her. It was hard not to be - even now, with her being more than capable of defending herself, the peak lord still felt himself feeling as though he should be keeping her safe. Needless to say, alongside his dear son, A-Ying was his favorite disciple, and he made no effort to hide this fact.

(Honestly, he wasn’t sure that he would be able to hide it.)

As they’d traveled from Juedi Gorge back to Cang Qiong, every waking moment of Shen Qingqiu’s life was split between worry for Shen Yuan and imagining the agony he would have to put Ning Yingying through.

Shen Qingqiu had only allowed one of them to go, reasoning that this way, he would only have to worry about one of the disciples who he held most dear.

Of course, he never would have imagined just how much he came to resent this decision; surely, he could have at the very least brought her along to watch, right? That wasn’t so uncommon. But, then, if he’d have done that, she might have witnessed it, and the very thought of Ning Yingying looking at him as though he were a monster made Shen Qingqiu’s stomach turn.

(He was a monster, he’d accepted this a long time ago. But there were still those, like A-Yuan and A-Ying, who didn’t see it, and he would rather die than have them figure it out.)

However, Shen Qingqiu could not put it off - not only would that ensure that Ning Yingying would be told by someone else, which he very much did not want, but it would be cowardly. And he did not want to be a coward.

When they arrived at Qing Jing Peak, Yue Qingyuan turned to him, and the smile on his stupid face seemed more real and yet also more strained than usual. The sect leader put a hand on his shoulder, the touch grounding yet gentle, as the fool had finally seemed to figure out how to get around most of his shidi’s distaste for touch.

“Would you like for me to accompany you, Shen-shidi?” He murmured, voice soft as the breeze and oh so earnest.

Yue Qingyuan did not even have to ask what Shen Qingqiu was attempting to brace himself for, which was something which made the Xiu Ya sword feel oddly vulnerable. Still, he pushed down this unpleasantness just as he always did, and brushed off the hand on his shoulder.

“No,” Shen Qingqiu replied authoritatively. “I can do this much.”

Yue Qingyuan did not try to argue; something which the younger man was secretly grateful for, as he truly was not sure if he could handle that. Instead, the sect leader just nodded and walked away, likely to search for Shen Yuan.

The Qing Jing peak lord took in a steadying breath, briefly closing his eyes before shaking open his folding fan with one graceful motion, raising it to cover most of his face. He knew what he had to do, and though he wasn’t the best at offering comfort, Shen Qingqiu resolved that, no matter what tears might fall and wails might come, he would hold onto Ning Yingying and (hopefully) grant her some measure of peace.

She deserved that much, at the very least.

---

It took Wei Qingwei several days to reforge Zheng Yang, but Shen Qingqiu was hardly impatient for it. After all, it was hardly as though there was a deadline towards making a sword mound. 

When his shidi arrived at Qing Jing, Shen Qingqiu bowed his head politely - he might not particularly care for the man, but, despite what some may say, he knew the benefits of sometimes keeping up decent relations with his fellow peak lords. “Wei-shidi,” he greeted evenly. “This master must thank you for following through on such short notice.”

Wei Qingwei cupped his hands respectfully. “Of course, Shen-shixiong,” the man replied, handing over Zheng Yang.

Shen Qingqiu couldn’t quite manage to resist the urge to look over the sword, unsheathing it and gazing upon its brightness with a small sense of curiosity. Though they were not bonded, he could still feel the stirrings of the spirit within, likely searching for its master. ‘Yet another soul who shall mourn for Disciple Luo,’ he thought to himself, and there was an odd feeling of weight in his chest before he sheathed the blade once more.

He began to turn to make his leave when Wei Qingwei had the audacity to speak again. “Shen-shixiong,” the Wan Jian leader said, voice politely strained. “This one hates to disillusion you, but you cannot keep Zheng Yang forever.”

It made sense; if every sword was retired after its master fell, there would hardly be any left at Wan Jian. Usually, they were repaired or recovered if need be, before being returned to the stone where they had been pulled from, ready to be handed off to the next generation of disciples when one caught the attention of the spirit inside. It was the way of things, and to disrupt such a cycle was surely something that even the most powerful of cultivators should avoid doing.

However, Shen Qingqiu did not care about tradition, not when it came between him and his son.

“Zhen Yang shall be returned in time,” he said, making sure that there was no room for argument in his tone. “This master does not intend on keeping it forever. It will serve as a temporary monument until peace is restored to Qing Jing.”

‘It shall stay until my son has recovered,’ left unsaid.

Wei Qingwei looked as though he had tasted something sour, but few cultivators would dare to argue with the infamous Shen Qingqiu, even fellow peak lords. So, the other man simply nodded. “As Shen-shixiong says,” was the quiet answer.

Shen Qingqiu gave a huff. ‘As I say indeed,’ he thought privately, before turning to leave once more. He had a sword mound to build.

(He had forgiveness to seek.)

Though he had never done such a thing before, it was not so hard. The Qing Jing peak lord had seen more than a few in his days, and he found himself finishing before the sun had reached its zenith in the sky. As he carefully set down the last stone, he heard a voice behind him.

“Baba?” Shen Yuan suddenly sounded as though he were years younger, and Shen Qingqiu felt his heart clench. He got to his feet, and turned to see his son staring blankly at the sword mound, green eyes glazed over. For several heartbeats, he just looked, before slowly coming back to himself, blinking as he returned to reality. The boy’s lips pressed together, and he could see the young disciple steeling himself before he spoke once more. The more he aged, Shen Qingqiu noted, the less like twins they looked - now, the younger man’s brow was wider, his eyes were larger, and his height less impressive. “Where did you get the spirit stones?” He asked, voice slightly hoarse.

Shen Qingqiu hesitated for a moment, knowing that this was A-Yuan’s attempt to drive the subject away from himself. Perhaps, were Yue Qingyuan or Ning Yingying present, he would have pressed on, but without their support, the Xiu Ya sword found himself uncertain of how to do so.

Instead, he simply dropped his gaze to the black spirit stones his son had spoken of. “At the beginning of the Immortal Alliance Conference, many were placing bets on who would win,” he explained slowly. “As Disciple Luo received the most points, this master ended up winning.”

Shen Yuan seemed surprised at that. “You bet on Binghe to win?”

Shen Qingqiu nodded. “This master would be foolish not to,” he replied, as though it were obvious. To him, it very much was.

He still remembered that day, right before they’d left to head towards Juedi Gorge, when Luo Binghe had approached him. The beast had bowed low, and had asked fervently for his shizun’s approval for his upcoming formal courtship of Shen Yuan. It was clear from the sound of the disciple’s voice that, while this was something he wanted more than anything, he still respected Shen Qingqiu enough to ask for his permission before doing so. The peak lord had felt a rush of different, competing emotions, and was silent for long enough that he could see Binghe squirming before him. Finally, however, he’d decided.

‘While I don’t like it… he is probably the option that would worry me the least,’ Shen Qingqiu had thought. Shen Yuan was always followed by lecherous gazes; if he had to pick one of these brutes to have his son, he might as well pick the one with the most respect for him.

“If you win the Immortal Alliance Conference,” Shen Qingqiu replied gravely. “You may begin courting A-Yuan.”

It was a difficult thing to achieve; with so many participants all grasping for glory, it was certain that Luo Binghe would meet with many rivals along the way. A lesser man might have balked.

But Disciple Luo had just nodded in acceptance, dark eyes glittering with ambition. “As shizun says!” He declared.

Shen Qingqiu had known that Luo Binghe would be able to achieve it, and so he had not hesitated before betting nearly everything on his disciple. Even after what had happened, even with no Disciple Luo left to collect it, the other participants had given him his due. Perhaps at one point, the Xiu Ya sword might have kept his winnings for himself. But, for whatever reason, he’d decided that it would be best to leave them for Binghe, even if the boy could never use them.

(This wouldn’t be enough for the boy’s soul to forgive him. Shen Qingqiu knew this. But it was more useful in his eyes than burning money.)

Shen Yuan still seemed surprised by his father’s actions, but, when his eyes strayed once more to the sword mound, it was clear that he couldn’t find any argument against it. So, he just nodded, and Shen Qingqiu found himself hating the way that his son looked so resigned.

“It looks nice,” the boy mumbled.

Shen Qingqiu looked over the gravesite as well, left without a body. (That was his fault, wasn’t it?) “Yes,” he replied, voice oddly hollow. “Yes, this master believes that it does.”

---

As much as Shen Qingqiu would have liked to continue coddling his son, eventually he had to relent to Shen Yuan’s endless begging to return to his lessons. The peak lord didn’t believe that his A-Yuan had fully recovered from the loss of Luo Binghe, despite how much the boy insisted otherwise, but he had to acknowledge that his dearest son was an adult, and could be trusted to return to his usual routines.

(How had the years gone by so quickly? Shen Qingqiu still remembered holding Shen Yuan as a baby, still remembered the little toddler that followed him around everywhere and always had something to comment upon. He remembered praying the boy would look like him, somehow.)

Still, that did not mean that Shen Qingqiu let up on his protectiveness.

During their nightly dinners at the Bamboo House, the Xiu Ya sword was always careful to let his son lead the conversations. He did not pry - though he would often be tempted to do so - but rather let Shen Yuan talk about whatever he wished to, which often led to Shen Qingqiu believing that, as much as the disciple tried to dance around it, he was hiding something from his father. Perhaps even multiple things.

This was not a feeling that the peak lord was unused to; for as clever as his dear son was, he was not nearly as sneaky as he believed.

However, whereas before, Shen Qingqiu would be relieved to know that at least Luo Binghe would be able to stop the boy from doing anything that was too dangerous. While Ning Yingying was still thankfully close to A-Yuan, it seemed as though she too was often left unaware as to what was going on inside of the younger disciple’s head.

This, unfortunately, led to something that the Qing Jing peak lord would not have done were he not desperate - seeking out the rat that had somehow wriggled his way past Shen Yuan’s defences, Shang Qinghua.

At first, Shen Qingqiu had been beyond wary of the two’s odd friendship. After all, a grown man should have no attachment to an unrelated boy not of his peak. (They should, shouldn’t they? But he knew there were exceptions.)

‘And I know very well the reasons why one might seek out a child to earn the trust of.’ 

Yet, after some careful tailing that somehow both had been unaware of, Shen Qingqiu had reluctantly dismissed the threat. True, often the way they spoke to one another was… cryptic to say the least, but what he did understand wasn’t concerning, and what he didn’t hardly seemed as though they had an inappropriate relationship.

…an odd one, yes, but not the kind of odd he feared.

So, Shen Qingqiu had allowed A-Yuan the feeling of having slipped said friendship under his father’s nose. But now, after years of ignoring their bond, he found himself striding onto An Ding with a determination fueling him.

As expected, his shidi cowered upon seeing him, bowing unnecessarily low even by his standards. “A-Ah, Shen-shixiong! This one was not expecting you!”

“Good,” Shen Qingqiu said, as that was very much the point for this endeavor. Perhaps he could have continued toying with the little man, relished in the fear that he brought his martial brother, but he decided to be merciful and cut to the chase. “You see A-Yuan often enough. Tell me - how has he been? Do not attempt to lie to me.”

Shang Qinghua, to his credit, seemed to have anticipated this, judging by the small breath he released as he straightened up a little. “W-Well… I imagine not much different than he has been with you, shixiong.”

Shen Qingqiu raised a brow. “Explain.”

“He’s… obviously still grieving,” the An Ding lord elaborated, still not looking his better in the eye. “Honestly, I don’t think his mind is ever far away from- from Disciple Luo. But he doesn’t like being poked and prodded about it, and insists that he’s fine. Um… I-I know that I’m not… not a parent or anything, and you obviously know him a lot better than I do, haha! But… I-I think that, for now at least, it is better to just quietly support him, y’know? Just… be there for him without bugging him too much.”

For a moment, Shen Qingqiu felt a stab of irritation at being given advice from one so lowly. However, he could admit that it was not far off from his own conclusion.
“This master feels much the same,” the Xiu Ya sword drawled. “But, if anything changes, if he mentions anything even remotely concerning during your pathetic little gossip sessions, you shall let me know immediately.” To emphasize the point, he glared in that way which made the mousy peak lord quake.

Shang Qinghua squeaked. “Y-Yes, of course Shen-shixiong! Th-this one is… is happy to help, truly!”

Shen Qingqiu sniffed. ‘Truly, such a spineless creature,’ he thought to himself, internally rolling his eyes. He did not bother to utter a farewell before sweeping out of the ironically named Leisure House, though the little rat hastily called one out at his retreating back.

---

And so the routine went, becoming such a part of life that Shen Qingqiu surprised himself when he realized that it had been several months since the Immortal Alliance Conference. Shen Yuan continued to largely act impervious, though he visited the sword mound every day, kneeling before it for hours at a time in silence.

(Shen Qingqiu ignored the fact that he knew this precisely because he also visited the memorial often, though not for nearly as long as his son.)

It was one day, when Yue Qingyuan visited for something that he insisted was sect business but which the conversation had stopped being about mere minutes into their tea drinking (the fool), that Shen Qingqiu was made aware of just what the others were comparing his boy to. As the sect leader’s smile faded somewhat when informed that A-Yuan was up to more of the same, the man shook his head. “He truly does act like a widow, don’t you think?”

It shook Shen Qingqiu a little.

‘Is that what people are saying?’ The peak lord thought to himself, his brow furrowing. ‘My son is a widow?’

Truly, now that he thought about it, he supposed that it wasn’t too far off the mark. The way that Shen Yuan tried continuously to brush off the concern of others and stay strong, the hours spent in contemplation and mourning by the gravesite, the way that the bags under his eyes seemed to be a permanent addition to his face, the way he’s been notably quieter than normal…

Despite the way that the comparison rankled Shen Qingqiu at first, he couldn’t deny its aptitude. But it still stung, knowing that his little A-Yuan was being called such a thing.

Yue Qingyuan seemed to be not entirely oblivious to his shidi’s reaction, as his irritatingly warm brown eyes shone with sympathy. “I suppose you hadn’t heard of such a thing being said about Xiao Yuan before, hm?” 

Though they’d admittedly come quite a bit further than Shen Qingqiu could have imagined previously, he still felt himself bristle at that endlessly soft voice. He took a sip of tea to childishly avoid answering for a moment. (It was a habit he’d had since he was a boy on the streets.) “Of course. Nobody on Qing Jing would dare to say such a thing in this master’s earshot,” he replied haughtily.

The sect leader seemed bemused by his reaction, and he was truly pushing his luck. “Of course, shidi.”

‘The idiot is nearly as spineless as that An Ding rat,’ the Xiu Ya sword thought to himself, though the spike of irritation was less than it would have been years ago. Shen Qingqiu was quiet for a moment, looking down at his teacup. Though its porcelain was as fine as everything in his collection, and the brew was light and elegant as he preferred, he found that he had no patience for it anymore. He had to fight the urge to get to his feet and find Shen Yuan, to shake his son by the shoulders and demand that they really, truly speak about Luo Binghe and what happened rather than dance around it like fools.

(He knew he would never do such a thing. He was a coward, and he always kept truths to himself.)

Finally, he spoke once more, taking another sip. “A-Yuan has the support of the entire sect at his back,” Shen Qingqiu said. “Sooner or later, he will be able to recover from his loss, just as we’ve all managed to do.”

Yue Qingyuan’s stupid face seemed more knowing than it should be. “You’re right, shidi,” the sect leader murmured, heartbreakingly earnest.

---

One night, during their dinner, Shen Qingqiu decided to bring up something he’d been thinking about for quite some time. As Shen Yuan finished telling his story about how Ming Fan had somehow managed to break a training sword, filled with the fond rolling of eyes that was common in his son, the Qing Jing peak lord decided that now might as well be the time to do so.

He took another bite of braised pork, taking the time to chew it delicately and swallow before speaking. (He hadn’t spoken with his mouth full since he’d been a little street rat.)

“The yearly disciple trials are approaching soon,” the Xiu Ya sword said neutrally, green eyes focused more on his chopsticks than on the boy seated across from him. “This master was thinking of attending.”

Shen Yuan looked a little surprised, quickly swallowing his own mouthful to reply. “Really? It’s been a couple of years since the last time we got any new students.”

It was true; Shen Qingqiu only really bothered to go whenever Yue Qingyuan bugged him about it, not wanting to turn into An Ding or Bai Lan and have swarms of children across the peak getting underfoot everywhere he went. Still, he would be a fool not to know that he needed new blood, seeing as how many of his disciples were now approaching adulthood. Qing Jing would always need young minds, even if their peak lord found himself usually staying away from children nowadays.

But that was not the only reason why Shen Qingqiu had decided to pick up new students this time.

“En,” he agreed nonchalantly. “And you shall come along, A-Yuan.”

Though Shen Yuan’s eyes widened, it truly wasn’t something so out of the ordinary. Ever since his boy could toddle along after the hall masters, he’d always loved attending lessons, always enjoyed learning new things, and it was little surprise that, as he’d gotten older, it had extended to a love of teaching his shidimei. A-Yuan was essentially the number one tutor on the peak, to the point where disciples would usually prefer to go to him first rather than one of the actual masters.

(It reminded him of a certain clever flower from the Warm Red Pavilion - but, then, he’d tried not to think about her for years. Every time he did, his mind went back to his promise to her, and if he should have made it.)

‘Really, once he’s finished with his training, he could easily take over from some of those old coots,’ the peak lord thought with a sense of pride at his son’s knowledge.

“Are you sure, Baba?” Shen Yuan asked, though by the tone of his voice it was clear that the prospect of tagging along excited him. “Isn’t it usually supposed to be the head disciple that joins the peak lord?”

Shen Qingqiu scoffed. “Ming Fan shall attend as well, of course, but there is nothing saying that another elder disciple cannot come as well.”

A-Yuan’s eyes shone, and it seemed as though he couldn’t argue that. It was true that there were no rules against it; even if there were, Shen Qingqiu would gladly break them to bring a smile upon his son’s face. “That sounds wonderful! Oh, I can’t wait to tell A-Ying - you know how much she loves doting upon shidimei!”

‘Acting as though he doesn’t love it just as much,’ the peak lord thought amusedly.

“I hope I can count on you to keep my martial brothers and sisters from snatching up all of the best prospects, hm?” The Xiu Ya sword drawled, a small, self-satisfied smile on his face.

At those words, Shen Yuan seemed to perk up even more. “Don’t you worry, Baba; I’ll make sure that they know that Qing Jing peak is the best option out of all of them!” He exclaimed brightly, the wheels in his mind already turning as he undoubtedly began to think of a game plan.

Shen Qingqiu couldn’t help but smile. It was nice, being able to see his boy so animated again.

(The peak lord would endure a million discomforts to allow that).

---

Overall, the trials were… good. Some could even say pleasant, but Shen Qingqiu usually avoided using such a word for occasions in which he was forced to interact with other people.

He was not surprised when it seemed that nearly every peak lord present perked up when they saw that the leader of Qing Jing was accompanied by Shen Yuan as well as Ming Fan. After all, A-Yuan had always been popular. (He’d managed to win the heart of someone like the Xiu Ya sword as soon as he’d laid eyes on the infant).

What Shen Qingqiu was surprised by, however, was the fact that there were actually some decent candidates. Of course, he’d been expecting to accept a disciple, but he’d thought that he might have had to pick one that didn’t quite meet his expectations, but whose potential he deemed as being halfway decent. Shen Qingqiu was a hard man to impress, and it was rare that any of the children particularly stuck out to him - it was for this reason that Qing Jing was perhaps the smallest of the peaks when it came to the number of students learning there.

However, he had not only managed to scoop up some passable child; instead, there had been three that had caught his eye, and that Shen Yuan had managed to impress enough to win over.

The first was a young girl called Bai Shuang, who was a gangly twelve year old with a long face and sharp eyes. She was entirely silent throughout the trials, single-mindedly focused on her tasks, which she did with a surprising grace and a ruthless efficiency. Bai Shuang’s nose had wrinkled several times during her tests, something which Shen Qingqiu managed to clock as being a sign of her thinking something over. While her spiritual power wasn’t the greatest, she was sure to be a formidable fighter in the future. 

When Shen Yuan went over to her, her face split into a small, crooked smile, the first she’d given all day, and followed after the young man eagerly.

Next was Wu Jiang, another girl, this one a chubby-cheeked ten year old with large eyes and a pudgy build. Though she was not physically strong, she was dutiful with her tasks, completing them all with a flush of focus and her bottom lip between her teeth. She followed instructions to the letter, and, when spiritual power was tested, she managed to create such a large spark of flame that she’d nearly singed her own hair. Though Wu Jiang seemed quite soft, and enjoyed talking more than Shen Qingqiu would like, it was clear that she had quite the potential.

When Shen Yuan accepted her, Wu Jiang nearly burst into tears, hugging him firmly around the middle before running after him.

Last was the one that had given Shen Qingqiu the most pause.

Cao Boshi dug a perfectly square hole. Cao Boshi did not complain, even when faced with the daunting task of climbing up hundreds of stairs. Cao Boshi’s spiritual energy nearly blew Wu Jiang’s out of the water.

But Cao Boshi was a boy - a fair-faced, sweet-voiced, well-bred young boy of eleven, one who made friends with nearly every other candidate and who looked to have never faced a hardship in his life. When Shen Yuan came down to greet him, Cao Boshi’s bow was perfect and proper, but his black eyes were gleaming with pride that made his future shizun feel sick.

Shen Qingqiu felt an automatic instinct to knock him down a peg, seeing the young child instantly charm both Bai Shuang and Wu Jiang.

‘He reminds me of Luo Binghe.’

The thought came unbidden, and it nearly made Shen Qingqiu flinch. (The boy still scared him, even after nearly a year since he’d died).

But, despite the way it made him feel like icy water had been dumped over his head, the thought made Shen Qingqiu’s mind clear. He was not that person anymore; he should not fall back to his old instincts.

Cao Boshi was still a child. The pride in his eyes was normal; he was naturally pleased to be accepted to a noble peak.

(Shen Qingqiu had to repeat this to himself several times).

So, when the time came for the tea ceremony, the Xiu Ya sword forced himself to be docile. He did not warmly greet his disciples, or assure them that he would be their friend as well as their teacher, or pat their heads. Shen Qingqiu would not lie to them like that - he might be changed now, but he had not changed that much.

But, when the children left the tea ceremony, herded off by Shen Yuan and Ming Fan for their tour, it was clear that there was nothing but excitement in their gazes. The young boy seemed to instantly take to Shen Yuan, almost immediately doing all he could to show that he too could be a proper disciple of Qing Jing, even more so than the two girls beside him. It made the Xiu Ya sword laugh softly.

Cao Boshi did not know what he had avoided, and Shen Qingqiu would like to keep it that way.

YEAR TWO

“How are your new disciples settling in, then?” Yue Qingyuan asked pleasantly just a few short months later, brown eyes gleaming at Shen Qingqiu in that annoying way of his.

Shen Qingqiu gave a hum, sipping from his cup as he politely pretended that this was anything more than an excuse on his shixiong’s part to extend the conversation further. “This master believes that they have been well,” he replied evenly. “I’ve heard some reports that Disciple Wu is a bit homesick, but the three have become fast friends according to A-Yuan.”

Truthfully, a part of him had been expecting the trio to cause more trouble - it would be just his luck to have them prove him wrong for going easy on them - but it seemed as though they’d done well to adjust to their new role as disciples of Qing Jing.

Of course, this was in no small part due to Shen Yuan, who had seemingly decided to imprint on the three children.

(Deep down, Shen Qingqiu knew why that was, but he avoided thinking about it).

It seemed as though Yue Qingyuan, slow as he could be, also caught on to the words left unspoken, for it seemed as though his smile tightened for just a moment. “Xiao-Yuan has always been an excellent shixiong,” the sect leader said. “I don’t doubt that he’s already managed to earn these newest shidimei’s undying affections.”

Really, it wasn’t that the peak lord was surprised at this development; the whole reason that he’d decided to take on new disciples was for Shen Yuan’s sake. He’d expected that his son would cling to these new students, just as he’d expected that the three new little ones would look to him as more of a shizun than anyone else on Qing Jing. But now, knowing that Shen Yuan seemed to split his time between kneeling at a sword mound and juggling three children… well, it made Shen Qingqiu wonder if this had been the right choice.

(He wondered that a lot.)

It wasn’t as if Shen Yuan was the only one who had taken to the new disciples; Ning Yingying and Ming Fan also spent quite a bit of time with them.

(But it wasn’t Ning Yingying and Ming Fan who worried him).

The Xiu Ya sword sniffed. “He coddles them,” Shen Qingqiu retorted, though it was perhaps less sharp than it could have been. “Bai Shuang’s been stuck on her footing during sparring for the past week, and A-Yuan has never once scolded her.”

Despite his words, the Qing Jing peak lord wasn’t really upset.

‘She can learn in due time. This is good for him,’ the gentle part of him, the one that had been reborn the moment he’d first held the babe in his arms and declared that he was his, insisted.

Yue Qingyuan seemed to agree, his smile more genuine than ever. “This master is glad he has improved.”

Shen Qingqiu just sniffed again, but, deep down, he was glad too.

He hadn’t known what he would have done were the little boy he’d claimed as his own to die and be replaced by a husk of who he’d once been. (A part of him thinks that he just would have died as well, unable to take such a loss).

There was a moment of easy silence, before Shen Qingqiu set down his cup with a porcelain clink. “Now, are you going to finally leave me be, or shall I have to chase you out?” He asked dryly, but something in the shape of his mouth made it clear that he was being more wry than anything.

Yue Qingyuan just chuckled, ever willing to submit to his shidi’s wants, getting to his feet.

“Ah, this one would hate to further impose upon Shen-shidi,” he said sweetly. “I am just glad to have been able to sit here with Shen-shidi for a while.”

‘Sap,’ Shen Qingqiu’s mind provided. But he didn’t mind. Not anymore, at least.

----

Though he didn’t do it anywhere near as often as his son did, Shen Qingqiu still found himself sometimes having the urge to go to Luo Binghe’s sword mound. He didn’t pray, or light incense, or burn money; he had never been that type of man (and he knew by now that the gods never listened to him, anyways). But he still visited, standing watch over Zheng Yang for a few minutes before moving on. Usually, he was either alone, or he happened upon Shen Yuan, in which they would both take their silent vigils separately, ignoring that the other was there. Shen Qingqiu had never had to think about what he would do if someone else was also at the sword mound, as he’d never encountered such a thing before.

That, of course, meant that coming across the kneeling figure of a sniffling Ning Yingying was a surprise to the peak lord.

For a moment, he just stared, green eyes round with surprise at the sight of his disciple, who hadn’t noticed him yet. A-Ying had wept terribly when he’d told her, crying for hours at the loss of her shidi, but since then she’d managed herself well.

‘I suppose I never thought about how the lasting grief would affect her, too,’ Shen Qingqiu thought, feeling a pang of guilt.

Ning Yingying had been so focused on being there for Shen Yuan that it seemed that nearly everyone had forgotten what turmoil she herself must have been feeling. True, her bond with Luo Binghe’s was different from A-Yuan’s, but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t a deep cut for her as well.

The Xiu Ya sword slowly made his way over, touching the young woman’s shoulder. Ning Yingying startled for a moment, before relaxing when she recognized who it was.

“G-Greeting shizun,” she murmured hoarsely, eyes still fixed on Zheng Yang.

Shen Qingqiu only gave her a hum of acknowledgement, his hand still resting on her shoulder. He knew that he was not the best at comforting anyone; he’d really only parroted what he’d heard others say when he told Ning Yingying the dreadful news. It was even worse in a situation like this, where he was responsible for the loss. So, he just stood there and waited, giving his disciple the space to only speak if she wished to.

A-Ying sniffled a few more times, reaching up to wipe away her stubborn tears, before speaking. “I miss A-Luo,” she whimpered weakly.

Years ago, that would have made Shen Qingqiu bristle - there was another man who he associated with that name, especially said by a young, bright-eyed girl. He still remembered how his stomach had turned when Shen Yuan had said it, too.

But now, with both owners of the nickname having passed and being gone from his life, the Qing Jing peak lord just nodded, lightly squeezing Ning Yingying’s shoulder.

“I know you do, A-Ying,” Shen Qingqiu replied. “And I am sorry.” He was quiet for a moment, before speaking again. “This master understands feeling as though you must hide your grief from the world, A-Ying.”

The woman didn’t respond, just staring straight ahead once again. She probably only thought that he was saying he was sorry for her loss; something that Shen Qingqiu had always considered to be a very stupid thing to say. Ning Yingying and Shen Yuan didn’t know how it was his own actions who had led to Luo Binghe’s demise, just as they did to the A-Luo before him. Though now, of course, he knew that Binghe was truly nothing like the man who still occasionally haunted his nightmares.

Shen Qingqiu stood there for nearly an hour in silence, allowing Ning Yingying her grief. He owed that much to her.

---

It had taken a while since the Immortal Alliance Conference for either of the Shens to be comfortable with Shen Yuan taking night hunts. On the part of Shen Qingqiu, he did not want his son out of his sight for long; every time he closed his eyes, it seemed as though he was plagued by thoughts of the boy having gotten into some sort of peril, without him being able to save him. Shen Yuan also seemed reluctant about it, seemingly not wanting to leave the peak much at all. However, eventually, these restrictions seemed to grate at the disciple, and, when he asked to be sent on a new mission, Shen Qingqiu made himself agree.

It was hard, but he knew it must be done - after all, as Shen Yuan reminded him frequently, his son was a grown man now.

Still, Shen Qingqiu hadn’t been able to relax those four days that his A-Yuan was gone, and, when his child finally appeared on Qing Jing once more, it was all he could do not to fuss over his boy.

(He’d had nightmares every night).

Luckily, Shen Yuan seemed to be in a good mood, and didn’t mind a bit of fuss, all of his protests being clearly light-hearted in nature. It was also lucky that his boy was eager to share what had happened.

“Oh, it really wasn’t so bad; just a couple of villages being terrorized by a Six-Legged Lion-Dog in rut,” he explained later that night at dinner. “It was easy enough to deal with, the hormones make them aggressive but also clouds their mind pretty badly, so it wasn’t that hard to set up a trap. Luckily, I got some help to deal with it.”

Shen Qingqiu raised a brow, as he’d sent A-Yuan out alone. “Oh? And who was this help, then?”

Shen Yuan beamed at him. “Apparently, Huan Hua Palace sent some people out too, and I got to meet their head disciple, Gongyi Xiao! Thank gods he’s nothing like that silly Palace Master, he was super nice and helpful.”

Shen Qingqiu’s eyes narrowed, remembering the name. The young man had also participated in the Immortal Alliance Conference, having been barely beaten out by Luo Binghe when it came to the scoreboard. From what the peak lord recalled, he had been respectful… and also the subject of many a hero-worshipping crush.

“This master is glad to hear it,” he said slowly, trying to work out how to gain information. “A-Yuan has always enjoyed working on a team.”

His son nodded, stuffing his mouth full of food. “Yeah! He was pretty good at just letting me tell him what to do when it came to the trap. A lot of guys are super stubborn about things like that, but he just listened to me.”

Shen Qingqiu certainly had an inkling as to why that was.

Shen Yuan had always been the darling of Qing Jing Peak, of course; even as a young child, he had been curious and precocious, following around his father and the older disciples like a shadow. However, as the boy had grown, some of the natural attention he’d gotten had… shifted, somewhat. Shen Qingqiu was not stupid - he knew that his son was apparently one of the most eligible bachelors of all of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect. He also knew that his dear A-Yuan, despite being clever in his own right, had no idea about any of this.

(Sometimes, he wondered if that came from his mother).

So, needless to say, the peak lord felt as though he might know why young Gongyi Xiao might have taken a shine to his boy.

He of course felt the familiar prickling of protectiveness, but… well, now that Luo Binghe was gone, Shen Qingqiu supposed that the most acceptable option in terms of his son’s suitors had been left open.

The Xiu Ya sword would have to do more research, of course, and he didn’t like how close Gongyi Xiao was to that bastard the Old Palace Master, but he was perhaps more open to consideration than he might have been. Shen Qingqiu would be magnanimous about this, so long as the Huan Hua boy measured up.

“Hm,” the peak lord said, taking up his own chopsticks once more. “That is good.”

Shen Yuan, as oblivious as ever, just nodded, his smile bright as the sun. “Yeah, it really is!”

---

Every so often, Shen Qingqiu would personally patrol the borders of Qing Jing Peak, often taking Ming Fan along with him. Though there were shifts for disciples and hallmasters to attend to the task as well, the peak lord found that he enjoyed being able to watch after his own territory. It made him feel, for once, as though he might actually belong there - as though he wasn’t some sort of monster or imposter, but a proper and important member of the sect.

Normally, he and his head disciple were quiet. It was part of what had drawn Ming Fan to him in the first place.

The boy was thoroughly average when it came to his martial arts abilities, and while he was not a terrible painter, guqin musician, or weiqi player, it was clear that he was lacking in creativity and inspiration.

However, despite his lack of shining talent, Ming Fan was excellent when it came to his organizational skills, and the finer aspects of running a peak. He was good at making sure the servants and hallmasters all had their needs met, and, once he’d grown out of his bullying streak, he had a knack for keeping the disciples both motivated and in line. The young man was also quite passive with his shizun, though he’d thankfully also grown out of his annoying attempts to suck up to Shen Qingqiu as well. All in all, Ming Fan was a perfectly suitable head disciple, and a halfway decent companion as well.

‘He could be a decent peak lord, as well,’ the Xiu Ya sword thought. ‘But I do not plan to ascend for quite some time left, so he will likely leave on his own in time. Or, perhaps, he would prefer to stay on as a hallmaster.’

Shen Qingqiu strode confidently across the rocks and crags of the peak, his qinggong making it look as though it were nothing more than a breezy stroll. Ming Fan, though looking quite a bit less graceful, kept up with his shizun, though the disciple spent more time actively on the lookout than the older man.

The peak lord thought that they would continue in companionable silence, as they usually did, so he was surprised to hear a voice from his side.

“...the new disciples are learning quickly,” Ming Fan said awkwardly.

Shen Qingqiu raised a brow, glancing over to find his head disciple’s eyes firmly fixed on a nearby scraggly tree. “...indeed they are, Disciple Ming,” he replied smoothly. “And is there a reason you bring this up?”

There were many in the sect with a propensity for small talk, but Ming Fan wasn’t one of them. (He wouldn’t have chosen him if the boy was).

Just as he’d thought, his student seemed as though he were struggling greatly as he spoke, his ears pinking just a tad. “Ah - it is stupid,” Ming Fan ducked his head apologetically. “It is just… this one is glad that Shen Yuan has finally managed to emerge from his grief, even if only a little bit.”

Shen Qingqiu paused; he’d known that his son had been determined to stop Ming Fan’s bad attitude when they were younger, but the peak lord supposed that he’d assumed the relationship had stopped there.

Now, it seemed silly to have done so - of course someone as important as a head disciple would want to keep an eye out on their fellow students.

(He reminded himself that his experiences with the opposite were not universal).

Perhaps, at one point, Shen Qingqiu might have rapped Ming Fan over the head with his fan after his student had the nerve to interrupt their routine with something that he himself admitted was stupid. And yet, perhaps he truly had grown soft, for he simply turned to look straight ahead once more, and nodded his head. “En,” the peak lord grunted in agreement, ending the conversation right there.

Both men understood.

---

It was right after a meeting of the peak lords, which Shen Qingqiu always hated, that it happened. Liu Qingge, despite having once professed to hating him, hadn’t approached his shixiong in years; ever since the Qing Jing lord had saved him from qi deviation, it seemed as though the brute’s want for a rivalry had dimmed, though he still occasionally looked at Shen Qingqiu as though he was seeing some sort of inexplicable obstacle in his way. Ever since that awkward confrontation shortly after the demonic invasion, in which Liu Qingge had accused him of being possessed, things had been rather calm between the two of them, to the point where several of the newer disciples didn’t even seem aware of the enmity that had once existed between the two of them.

However, despite this, Shen Qingqiu still tensed when Liu Qingge approached him. (Despite all this time, he would remain a territorial and fearful animal inside).

Yue Qingyuan, who had been idly chatting with the Xiu Ya sword, gave their shidi a pleasant smile, though he subtly angled himself in front of his childhood companion. “Liu-Shidi, we welcome your presence!” He said warmly.

Liu Qingge, who had never been one for pleasantries, merely glanced and nodded at the sect leader, before dark phoenix eyes focused back on Shen Qingqiu. For a long, awkward moment, the Bai Zhan lord didn’t speak, and his shixiong was left wondering if he was going to have to prod after what he wanted, before finally the brute opened his mouth.

“You… your son,” the younger man started, voice rough as always. 

Shen Qingqiu waited for several seconds, before one arched brow raised. “Yes, Liu-shidi? We are all aware of my progeny.”

Liu Qingge seemed a little flustered. “He keeps… he’s lingering. Around Bai Zhan.”

Though the Qing Jing lord was a bit surprised to hear of it, he supposed that it made sense. Shen Yuan was always eager to instruct the younger disciples, and recently, Bai Shuang had made friends with a girl from the brute’s peak. It only fit that his A-Yuan would take the child under his wing as well, which must have led to other Bai Zhan members becoming enchanted with his son, as many were keen to do.

Yue Qingyuan’s smile widened, and he placed a hand on Shen Qingqiu’s shoulder. “Ah, our Xiao-Yuan is quite popular among the shidimei of his own peak; it is little wonder that the neighboring ones would soon take note!”

Meanwhile, the Xiu Ya sword was far more blunt with his response. “He may do as he wishes. He is not an extension of me - and besides, aren’t peaks supposed to stick together?”

Liu Qingge looked as though he’d tasted something sour, his eyes darting between both of his shixiongs helplessly. “It is not done,” the man finally managed to say. “Bai Zhan and Qing Jing have been rivals for generation upon generation!”

Shen Qingqiu snorted. “Do you think my beloved child cares about such things?”

“It truly is a gift, then, that Xiao-Yuan has managed to break through such a deep-seated rivalry!” Yue Qingyuan expanded, sounding well and truly proud. “It means that this newest generation shall have no concept of such a thing, and that the entire sect may grow stronger for it. Hopefully, Xiao-Yuan may inspire other disciples to do the same.”

Liu Qingge did not appear to have expected that, two blotches of color appearing high on the apples of his cheeks as he sputtered. Finally, it appeared as though the man gave up.

“En,” the Bai Zhan lord grunted, shooting Shen Qingqiu one last unreadable look, before turning around and very nearly stomping away as though he were a toddler. The Xiu Ya sword couldn’t help his smirk at his shidi’s retreating back.

Yue Qingyuan chuckled a little, squeezing his shoulder. “Xiao-Yuan is quite the upstart, isn’t he?” His gentle voice seemed to have a touch of teasing in it.

Shen Qingqiu just rolled his eyes, playfully batting the large hand away from his shoulder with his fan. “A-Yuan is a force of nature; people just mistake him for being less than that because he at least makes somewhat of an effort to be polite.” Still, he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that, for whatever reason, Liu Qingge had attempted to corner him for another reason.

‘I’ll have to keep an eye on that,’ he thought to himself as he left with Yue Qingyuan.

---

“Alright, so what you’re going to want to do is keep your legs a shoulder-width apart, like this,” Shen Yuan instructed, his three students looking at him with concentration. Or, rather, Bai Shuang and Cao Boshi were; Wei Jiang seemed more focused on a passing Bright-Glowing Butterfly, causing the older boy to have to snap his fingers to get her attention. The girl flushed, embarrassed, before copying her two fellows.

Shen Qingqiu watched this from a short ways away, having asked to see one of his son’s tutoring sessions. A-Yuan had seemed a little embarrassed about it, but also excited at the prospect of showing off to his father, and had happily agreed.

As the young man taught his small group, the Qing Jing peak lord felt something swirling in his chest. 

‘It is so odd,’ he thought to himself. ‘To feel both pride and jealousy.’

Of course he was proud of Shen Yuan - who wouldn’t be? His precious boy had grown into a fine teacher, and it was clear that younger disciples took to him like ducks to water. Seeing the three newest members of Qing Jing all eagerly following A-Yuan’s instructions was enough to almost make the stoic Shen Qingqiu feel a swell of warmth, and knowing that his child would likely stay on in the sect as a hallmaster was quite the relief to the mind and heart of an overprotective father. Any normal parent would be beaming.

(Shen Qingqiu was not and would never be normal, no matter how hard he tried).

But, at the same time, seeing that it came so easy to Shen Yuan, how well-liked and patient and understanding he was… it put a sour taste in his mouth, and Shen Qingqiu hated it, because he knew a good parent wouldn’t feel this way.

‘What sort of person feels this way towards their own child? I raised him, I love him - why is that not enough?’

Shen Qingqiu knew that he was rotten, knew that he was a horrible person who had no business being around children, much less raising one. It was why he had been so horrified when Niu Yanmei had told him that he must do so. But he’d done so anyway, not having the heart to tell Yan-er otherwise when everyone had known that she was dying.

Most of the time, he felt that he’d done a good job.

But, at times like this… he found himself wondering why, of all people, Niu Yanmei had insisted that he take her son.

‘Sometimes, I still feel as though I should have refused.’

Still, when Shen Yuan came up to him after finishing the lesson, bright eyed and looking so much like him (lies, he thought. It was Niu Yanmei who had looked similar to Shen Qingqiu, joking upon their first meeting that she might as well steal his robes and take over the peak herself,) it was hard to stay feeling that way.

“I think they’re doing a lot better, Baba!” A-Yuan exclaimed, a grin on his face and a sheen of sweat sticking his hair to the back of his flushed neck.

Shen Qingqiu smiled, then - not a true smile, but as close to one as he could get - “Mm, yes. They are indeed,” he said warmly, reaching out to pat his boy’s head. “You are… an excellent teacher, A-Yuan.”

The sparkle in Shen Yuan’s eyes outshone the sun.

---

“Fix him,” Shen Qingqiu demanded as he strode into Qian Cao, graceful as a leaf in the wind and yet radiating red-hot anger to the point where cultivators ducked out of his path.

Mu Qingfang, to his credit, merely cupped his hands politely to his martial brother as he set aside his medical journal and rose to his feet. “Shen-shixiong, may this humble Mu inquire as to what you mean?”

The Xiu Ya sword didn’t care about pleasantries, or, indeed, about anything but the matter at hand. “My son. I thought he was better. He is not - he has been having nightmares every night for this past week, and he has only spent more time at Luo Binghe’s sword mound, not less. I demand that you fix him!”

Shen Qingqiu had known that this would stay with Shen Yuan forever; he was no stranger to grief, and he knew that A-Yuan still visited the memorial every day. But he’d thought that the young man had been improving steadily over the past year. With new shidimei to look after, going on night hunts again, writing to his new friend Gongyi Xiao, it had seemed as though his boy had recovered enough to be himself again. And yet, this was not the case.

The healer gave him a sympathetic look that made the Qing Jing peak lord wish to break his spectacles. “Shixiong… grief doesn’t work like that, I’m afraid.”

‘He thinks I’m a fool,’ Shen Qingqiu thought, sneering.

“Do not tell me the obvious!” He snapped, pounding his fists down on the desk in front of them. 

Mu Qingfang didn’t flinch. “This Mu can give something for the nightmares to ease his sleep, but… sometimes, these things come in waves. Grief is a complex thing, and sometimes, it ends up changing us permanently.”

(Shen Qingqiu did not think of how he knew this before being told).

The Xiu Ya sword snarled soundlessly, but he retreated from hounding Mu Qingfang as much, feeling a spike of shame within his irritation. Because of course he’d known that, had known that for far longer than Shen Yuan had been alive, but-

But… if he accepted this, that meant that his A-Yuan had been forever altered by something that had been, ultimately, his own fault.

Shen Qingqiu must have truly gone soft, because Mu Qingfang only softened further. “The healer understands that it can be quite hard, watching a loved one go through such a thing and feeling as though you are powerless to help,” the man said, voice gentle yet not pitying. “However, Shen-shixiong, as much as you may wish otherwise, there are some foes which you cannot fight away.”

The Qing Jing peak lord snorted humorlessly. “You speak as though I am that Bai Zhan brute.”

“It is a common thing to need to realize,” Mu Qingfang defended himself lightheartedly.

Shen Qingqiu still felt rather silly, having come all this way for something that could hardly be helped. It was a childish notion, and he loathed feeling as though he had done something to make him even more unworthy of the title of peak lord.

“...he was better,” he said, barely louder than a murmur.

Mu Qingfang gave a thoughtful hum. “There are times when they can appear to be, yes. But there are also times when their emotions can consume them once more. These times, the bad times, can lessen and get farther apart over the years, but it is common to feel them for years and years, if not for the rest of their life.”

‘The rest of his life…’

(As though Shen Qingqiu needed something else to feel guilty about).

The room was silent for a good, long while, before the Qian Cao peak lord broke it. “Here, shixiong; let this Mu give you some pills to help him sleep better at night. That will be part of the prescription - the rest will be just for you and the others in his life to stay by his side.”

“You think I would abandon my son?” The accusation was harsh, even though he knew that wasn’t what was meant by it. This was an instinctive lashing out.

Mu Qingfang seemed to realize this, as he merely smiled. “Of course not, Shen-shixiong. This humble doctor merely means that you should continue doing as you have already done. Stay by him, let him talk with you if he wants to, but do try not to push him. If he wants to open up to you - or anyone else - he will. But that is all you can do.”

Shen Qingqiu sniffed. “I don’t like it,” he said, and he again found himself feeling quite childish.
“Few people do, shixiong.”

YEAR THREE

“Shizun!” Ning Yingying’s voice rang out throughout the peak, and Shen Qingqiu wasn’t surprised at all when he heard light feet running up to him. However, he was surprised when he saw what she was holding - a furry-looking, dog-like creature with three black, beady eyes and a long pink tongue lolling out of its sharp-fanged mouth, its thick, spiked tail wagging rapidly against the young woman’s thighs as she carried it around the middle. “Shizun, could we keep it, please?”

The Qing Jing peak lord’s eyes widened slightly at the sight, and he raised a brow, looking between his disciple and Shen Yuan who had run up beside her. “And what is it?”

“It’s a baby Three-Eyed Alligator Wolf!” His son explained, slightly more out of breath than his shijie, bracing his hands on his thighs, though his grin was just as bright as A-Ying’s. “Liu-shishu dropped it off near the Bamboo House while we were cleaning, and said it was a gift! Isn’t it so friendly?”

The Three-Eyed Alligator Wolf gave an odd chuffing sound.

“Well, really what he said was a grunt, but I think that we can assume it’s a gift!” Ning Yingying butted it.

This, unsurprisingly, served to make Shen Qingqiu feel even more confused. Though he trusted Shen Yuan’s word that it was harmless - and the way the creature was slobbering all over A-Ying’s arms seemed to corroborate that story - he had no idea why Liu Qingge would do such a thing. “Is that brute aware that we are not, in fact, Shou Hun?” He asked dryly, referring to the Beast-Keeping peak.

A-Yuan didn’t seem that concerned, because of course he wasn’t. In fact, he had moved over to Ning Yingying and was currently scratching behind one of the spikes that was where an ear should be. “I think it’s quite nice!” His son said brightly, laughing as the Three-Eyed Alligator Wolf chirped at him.

“Yeah, shizun! We can’t turn down a gift, can we?” Ning Yingying retorted, her brown eyes going round as she attempted to persuade the man.

Shen Qingqiu was not moved, rapping both disciples on the head with his fan. “No, we will not be keeping it. Especially since you know full well that it grows to be larger than a man when it grows to adulthood, A-Yuan.”

Shen Yuan seemed sheepish at being called out in such a way. “But it can be acclimated to people once it’s raised around them! Besides, it has a lot of positive effects on qi; it loses its teeth every few months, and when they’re ground up into powder and made into pills, they can help with reaching new stages and reduce the damages of any potential bottle-necks! Wouldn’t that be useful?”

Ning Yingying nodded along, hoisting the Three-Eyed Alligator up from where its weight had made it begin to droop in her arms. “Yes, yes!”

The Xiu Ya sword snorted. “And that is all the more reason to pass it along to Peng Qingxin.” His voice was firm and decisive, enough that even the creature seemed to shrink back as though scolded. “It is either that, or we release it back into the wild.”

His son pouted, but he nodded reluctantly anyway. “Yes, Baba…”

A-Ying squeezed the Three-Eyed Alligator tightly, but didn’t protest more. “Alright, I guess… we’ll visit it, though, right?”

Shen Qingqiu pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine. You may visit the thing, if you wish.”

Though both disciples gave a little cheer, the Qing Jing peak lord was honestly more concerned about finding out just why Liu Qingge had decided to drop off such a creature in the first place. ‘It can help with cultivation bottle-necks, can it…’ he thought to himself as the pair started making their way to Shou Hun, where his shimei would undoubtedly rejoice at such a specimen. ‘Interesting.’

---

It was a warm spring day, and Shen Qingqiu felt the urge that he felt every so often to visit the sword mound. Shen Yuan had knelt there earlier, and was currently attending his poetry class; the Qing Jing peak lord sometimes was content to be there with his son and offer support, but this was one of those days in which he felt he couldn’t properly care for such matters. It would feel wrong doing so, knowing that he was the one at fault.

(In short, it was one of those days in which he was consumed with guilt).

Though he did not normally kneel before the memorial, he did so today. It didn’t make the man feel any better, but, then, he hadn’t expected it to.

‘...perhaps I should not give Zheng Yang back to Wei Qingwei after all,’ Shen Qingqiu thought to himself, looking at the blade in front of him with a dull expression in his eyes. ‘It would devastate A-Yuan - Zhen Yang and Yuehua are kindred spirits, just as their masters were.’

Even this thought didn’t assuage the guilt within him.

Luo Binghe, demonic heritage or not, had not been dangerous - at least, not to Shen Yuan. Now, looking back at the matter, the Qing Jing peak lord could clearly see how the younger boy would have rather died than bring harm to his shixiong. If someone had asked the master at nearly any other point in time, he would have said that the beast would never turn on his owner; that, and he likely would have felt that the one who felt that they needed to ask such a thing was quite stupid indeed.

But Shen Qingqiu hadn’t been thinking logically. All he’d seen was a man with demonic features crouched over a prone, unconscious Shen Yuan.

The Xiu Ya sword normally prided himself on his wit and quick thinking. He was strong, yes, but what had made him survive for so long was his stubborn heart and his sharp mind. He did not try to act on impulse, at least in situations where it mattered.

And yet…

‘And yet I made the most idiotic, most selfish mistake of my life,’ Shen Qingqiu scowled at the thought.

It wasn’t as if this was his first time having killed someone - or even his first time killing someone who had likely been innocent. The peak lord had the blood of countless men on his hands.

But this was the first time that he had taken the life of one so close to one of the only people he loved. Though Shen Qingqiu regretted killing Luo Binghe, it wasn’t those teary black eyes that haunted him; it was the lifeless green gaze of Shen Yuan that he saw staring back at him whenever he closed his eyes.

He was keeping many things from A-Yuan, but this…

This was the only secret that Shen Qingqiu really, truly would rather die without admitting to his son.

Shen Yuan was one of the only people who cared whether he lived or died. Shen Qingqiu had loved the boy since he’d first seen that wrinkled, crying baby who had grown into a beautiful man. Blood or not, that didn’t matter - that was his son, and he’d never once felt otherwise.

Imagining A-Yuan losing the love he had for his Baba… it was too much to bear.

---

Yue Qingyuan was, to put it quite plainly, a nuisance.

True, the rest of the peak lords respected his wisdom and generosity, and looked to him for guidance in times of trouble. Even those in the sect who were his elders held him in high regard, and the rest of the cultivation world respected him greatly. His reputation had even spread into the demon realm, and there they whispered of Xuan Su, the large, powerful sword that he barely even used, so strong was his own might that he could fight without it.

(Of course, Shen Qingqiu knew the real reason behind this, though it had taken quite a lot to get the stubborn fool to admit it).

But, as the closest person to their great sect leader, Shen Qingqiu knew that, in reality, when Yue Qingyuan did not feel the need to put on airs, he could be quite doggedly persistent in a way that gave him a headache.

“This master heard that Xiao Yuan recently went out on a night hunt,” he would say, or something similar that was completely unworthy of a visit in person. The man would cling to these excuses, these scraps of reason behind his constant lurking on Qing Jing, as though he was just being a good shixiong. As though he wasn’t a mother hen, utterly focused on making sure those who he held dear couldn’t squirm out of his grasp and out of his sight. Once, it had infuriated Shen Qingqiu, had made him think that Yue Qingyuan didn’t trust him to be in charge of the peak.

Now, though he knew better, it still made him internally give a weary sigh.

“He is a grown man,” the Xiu Ya sword reminded his zhangmen-shixiong, as though he didn’t often conveniently forget the same piece of information. “A-Yuan may go on as many missions as he likes.”

‘This man wishes to know my son’s every movement even more than I do,’ he thought dryly, though there was perhaps a touch of contentment there.

Yue Qingyuan gave a sheepish smile, though Shen Qingqiu knew that he truly did not feel ashamed. If he did, he would stop doing this. “Ah, yes, of course; Xiao Yuan is very talented, and this one did not mean to imply he wasn’t.”

(That was not the issue and they both knew it).

The Qing Jing peak lord huffed noncommittally. “Then why do you insist on coming over whenever you hear that he has left the peak?” The question was pointed, slightly defensive even now. Shen Qingqiu’s green eyes narrowed as he observed the older man, waiting to see if he could give a satisfactory answer before being chased out.

“Can a sect leader not spend time with his favorite shidi?” Yue Qingyuan asked, brown eyes warm and expressive and sickening.

Shen Qingqiu scoffed, rolling his eyes and rapping the back of the taller man’s skull with his folded fan. “Do not mistake this master for some simpering maiden, easy to sway with sweet words!”

Despite the many hits, the sect leader just smiled, as though being repeatedly whacked by a bamboo fan was the only thing he’d ever wanted. “Never, Shen-shidi,” he said placidly, which only caused the other peak lord to huff and grumble more at him, disgusted by his spinelessness.

From the outside of the Bamboo House, where she’d been sweeping the path, Li Xiang glanced backwards, her thick brows drawn together with a faint look of horror, as though she’d witnessed something that had personally disturbed her - an unusual look on the mostly calm disciple’s face. “Are they… normally like this, da-shixiong?” The teenage girl whispered, never having heard of such a thing before.

Ming Fan stared straight down at the stone beneath him, a look on his face as though he’d suddenly aged a thousand years.

“Sometimes, they’re worse,” he confessed, his voice dull and emotionless, that of a truly broken man. “If you can believe it, that’s where Shen-shidi gets it from. But at least he never knows what he’s doing.”

Li Xiang shuddered.

---

Qi Qingqi’s face was entirely unimpressed, her left eye faintly twitching as Shen Yuan bowed apologetically before her. Shen Qingqiu had been surprised by the summons to say the least; though he knew that some of the male disciples were bold enough to dare one another to try and sneak onto Xian Shu, he had never taken his son for that sort. Usually, those boys were motivated by a perverse sort of glee, taking the all-female peak as it was on the surface instead of examining the danger of a peak solely dedicated to infiltration and disguise. However, something told him that A-Yuan had different motivations.

“This foolish disciple swears that he did not mean to trespass!” Shen Yuan declared frantically, though his voice was stained with guilt.

The Xian Shu peak lord sighed, though it didn’t seem as though she disbelieved him. Though Shen Qingqiu had never gotten along with his shimei, he knew that she was an intelligent person. “And what, perchance, were you intending to do?” She asked dryly.

‘Likely something only A-Yuan would understand,’ the Xiu Ya sword thought.

Shen Yuan winced, glancing up at Qi Qingqi with a sheepish look. “This one… well, this one was just curious? I mean, Xian Shu’s techniques and even their members are such mysteries to everyone on the outside! There’s not a lot described - I mean, in the histories of the sect! So… this one thought that it couldn’t hurt to just look on the stairs, without entering?”

Shen Qingqiu couldn’t hold back the sigh. “A-Yuan, the reason that Xian Shu is shrouded in mystery is because that is their purpose,” he explained, long-suffering.

Qi Qingqi nodded, crossing her arms over her chest. “Indeed - for what good is a peak meant for our line of work to be openly known, even to the others in our sect?” Still, the woman’s black phoenix eyes seemed to be amused. “So, Disciple Shen Yuan was not lurking on our border in a perverse attempt to catch a fleeting glimpse of our famously beautiful disciples, then?”

Shen Yuan flushed, though it seemed more out of embarrassment than out of being caught. “N-No! Of course not!” He sputtered helplessly. “Besides, doing so would be stupid; basically the only thing everyone knows about Xian Shu is the barrier preventing those identifying as men from entering!”

“My son is not one for such… base motivations, Qi-shimei,” Shen Qingqiu cut in. 

The purple-clad woman gave a thoughtful hum. “It appears not.” With that, she looked up at her shixiong, a somewhat smug smile on her face. “You two should count yourself lucky, for if there were motivations other than intellectual curiosity behind this little stunt, Disciple Shen would learn the sting of a rose’s thorn quite quickly.”

From behind her, head disciple Liu Mingyan nodded. “Shizun has… very specific ways of dealing with outsiders,” she murmured softly.

Shen Yuan nodded quickly. “Yes, o-of course! This one promises he would never!”

At this, the Qing Jing peak lord stepped forward, gesturing for his son to rise to his feet. “Then I believe that the matter is dealt with, Qi-shimei?” Though it was technically a question, it was clear that he would not take ‘no’ for an answer.

Qi Qingqi’s smile sharpened, looking more akin to a snake than a flower. “Indeed, Shen-shixiong.” She gave Shen Yuan one last glance over, one perfectly-shaped brow raising slightly. “Your son is… an interesting specimen of a man. His curiosity and lack of guile shall do him well in the future.” With that cryptic line, she inclined her head, gesturing for Liu Mingyan. “Mingyan, we shall be leaving. Your shimei’s lessons demand your oversight.”

The veiled girl nodded once more. “Yes, shizun!”

Once the pair of Xian Shu representatives had left Qing Jing, Shen Qingqiu immediately proceeded to whap Shen Yuan over the head with his fan several times. “Are you mad?? Why on earth would you ever think that such a thing was a good idea??”

A-Yuan yelped, ducking down to cover his head. “I-I was just on the stairs, Baba! I didn’t think it would count!”
The Qing Jing peak lord huffed, pulling back his hand and whipping open the fan to reveal the rice field painted on the paper folds. “Obviously, Xian Shu would take a young man lingering on their borders as being a potential threat, even if one does not cross onto the peak proper. Knowing Qi Qingqi, she would probably even find a young woman’s lurking to be suspicious.”

“I really didn’t mean it like that…” Shen Yuan mumbled, glancing away.

Shen Qingqiu turned to stalk off to the Bamboo House, leaving his son scrambling to follow. “I know that; it seems that Qi-shimei knows it as well, thankfully. But just because you have no ill intent doesn’t mean that you may do such a thing. Even Yue Qingyuan has to send a female disciple when he wishes to speak with Xian Shu.”

Though the younger man pouted a little, he still nodded. “Alright…”

‘Gods, this boy is a struggle every day,’ Shen Qingqiu thought to himself, shaking his head with a click of his tongue, but it was more fond than annoyed.

After all, it was just like his A-Yuan to be perhaps one of the only male disciples who had tried to peek inside Xian Shu for reasons other than the perverted. And only Shen Yuan could somehow manage to amuse Qi Qingqi in the process.

‘Were he still a child, he might have even persuaded Qi-shimei to let him in for a tour…’

---

To say that Shang Qinghua was a pathetic little rat of a man was an understatement, but Shen Qingqiu had come to understand his usefulness these past few years. Not in regards to the sect - as even he was not arrogant enough to deny the importance of An Ding when it came to keeping everything running as usual - but when it came to Shen Yuan. Their odd little friendship had disturbed and confused the Qing Jing peak lord, as he’d never quite understood just where their bond came from, but now, with his son still occasionally lapsing into his grief, Shen Qingqiu could say that, even if he lacked understanding, he could still see that it worked for the two of them.

Of course, that didn’t mean that he would let up on intimidating Shang Qinghua; he didn’t want to let the jumpy little man feel as though he was free to do as he wished.

(Honestly, Shang Qinghua had been frightened of him long before Shen Qingqiu had begun to intentionally intimidate him. Even as disciples, before they’d said one word to each other, the other cultivator had always flinched. It was useful, but it also reminded Shen Qingqiu of just how unworthy they both were).

So, when he happened to catch the An Ding peak lord headed towards the Bamboo House, the Xiu Ya sword couldn’t resist the urge to walk over.

Not only to make sure that Shang Qinghua still had his proper fear intact, but to check up on Shen Yuan. True, A-Yuan had seemed to be doing well, but Shen Qingqiu knew of his child’s urge to hide such things.

As expected, the other man immediately jumped at the sight of his shixiong, face paling and hands coming together to fidget in a display that might have seemed practiced had Shen Qingqiu not known his shidi for years. “A-Ah, Shen-shixiong!” The rat stammered with an awkward smile on his face. “What a surprise!”

“It is my peak,” the Xiu Ya sword said blandly. “How is that a surprise?”

Shang Qinghua winced again, glancing away. “Haha, yeah… um, you’re not here to threaten me away from C- from Shen Yuan again, are you?”

Shen Qingqiu scoffed, raising his fan to cover his mouth. “No; as much as I dislike the thought of it, I have accepted your place in A-Yuan’s life. Besides, knowing my son, he would probably sneak out to meet you even if I forbade you from stepping foot on Qing Jing.”

The An Ding peak lord laughed weakly. “I mean, probably…”

“What I wanted to speak with you about was if you believed that my son was… recovering,” the other cultivator explained. “I have my own thoughts and observations on the matter, but as the two of you are close, I wish to know your conclusion as well… though, of course, I very much doubt that it will provide me with much insight.”

Shang Qinghua didn’t even seem offended. “Uh… yeah, h-he seems… fine?” The An Ding peak lord said hesitantly. “Like… he’s still not the best at feelings and all, but… I think he’s doing okay?”

Shen Qingqiu huffed softly. “Just as I thought.”

Once again, the An Ding peak lord had undoubtedly expected such a dismissal, which was possibly the only sign of intelligence he’d displayed in their entire acquaintanceship. “Yeah… um. Bye!”

Just as pathetic as ever, Shang Qinghua scurried away like the rodent he was, not even bothering to give a proper farewell. If Shen Qingqiu was any more childish, he would have rolled his eyes. ‘It serves me right to try and question such a being on important matters…’ he thought to himself, shaking his head.

Still, as much as he hated to admit it, he did believe that, were things genuinely wrong, his shidi probably would have brought it up - even if only out of fear for his own safety.

So, he thought that instead of entirely useless, this excursion had only served to be mostly useless. Shen Qingqiu would have followed Shang Qinghua to confirm, but the first and last time he’d tried to eavesdrop into the other’s conversations with Shen Yuan, it had been all but incomprehensible, so he decided to let it slide.

But he still made a note to ensure that all was well with his son after the meeting.

---

There had been no noticeable shift, or grand declaration - though, admittedly, the latter had almost certainly been because Shen Qingqiu would have despised such a thing, as surely the endlessly sappy Yue Qingyuan would have been more than willing to provide one. Really, the Qing Jing peak lord couldn’t quite recall when his feelings for the older man had turned into something that leaned towards the romantic. If he had to hazard a guess, he would say that they had always been that way, even when they were children and it seemed as though Qi-ge would never leave him.

(Trust him, Shen Qingqiu knew the truth by now; it had been years at this point since Yue Qingyuan had finally broken and let him know just what had happened, what had made him unable to fulfill his promise.

It had led to a lot of yelling, a lot of smacking angrily with fans and fists, and, eventually, some crying which the sect leader had been sworn to silence about.)

However, it never seemed as though such a thing needed to be said.

Now that the pair of peak lords had managed to repair their relationship, it seemed as though everyone in the sect knew that they were entangled. It was something that might have enraged Shen Qingqiu once, but that he now regarded with a sneer and a thought of ‘at least these imbeciles can figure out that much.’

Even Shen Yuan seemed to be aware of it.

One night, while father and son had been having dinner, A-Yuan had set down his chopsticks and looked at Shen Qingqiu with that oddly-knowing look in his eyes that he’d had since he was an infant.

“You know… Yue-shibo is quite the catch,” the boy had said pointedly, looking rather more like he was having a stroke with the attempts to wiggle his eyebrows.

Shen Qingqiu had just scoffed, soundly smacked his son about the head, and told him not to speak of matters that he didn’t understand. Still, despite Shen Yuan’s clear lack of knowledge towards the more romantic side of things, he nonetheless seemed to accept it, judging by the way his behavior towards Yue Qingyuan hadn’t changed one bit.

If it was up to the Xiu Ya sword, perhaps he would have been content in this in-between stage forever, but, as it turned out, maybe his Zhangmen-shixiong held more bravery in his heart than initially thought.

It was during one of Yue Qingyuan’s visits to the Bamboo House, the ones which Shen Qingqiu had graciously allowed the sect leader to continue to pretend were about sect business more than social calls. The tea pot was long empty, and anything of real importance had long since fallen by the wayside, and yet the two men continued to speak. Shen Qingqiu had been talking about some petty squabble between hallmasters, something which he hated having to deal with, when, out of the blue, a warm, lightly calloused hand covered his own, startling the Qing Jing peak lord into silence.

Evidentially, Yue Qingyuan was startled too, though he’d been the damn fool to have done such a thing, his cheeks pinker than a cherry blossom. The sect leader quickly drew his hand back, clearing his throat.

“M-Many apologies, Shen-shidi! This one did not mean to intrude on your personal space in such a way-”

Shen Qingqiu cut him off with a scoff. “You are acting as though you have not done such a thing before, Yue-shixiong,” the man pointed out dryly. “In case you have not noticed, I am not made of porcelain, and I do not fall apart at the merest touch.”

Really, it was ridiculous. How many times had Yue Qingyuan clapped his hand on Shen Qingqiu’s shoulder these past few years, or stepped past him with a gentlemanly hand to his waist? Logically, this should be no different - it was just that the sect leader was acting as though he’d besmirched the honor of some delicate young maiden.

Yue Qingyuan’s face flickered with some emotion that Shen Qingqiu was unsure of. “That was when we were children.”

The Xiu Ya sword huffed, and, as if to prove his point, not only did he reach out to grasp the other man’s hand once more, but he used it to tug Yue Qingyuan closer to him, so that they sat beside one another and not on opposite ends of the table. Of course, the great Cang Qiong sect leader could easily have resisted such a force, as Shen Qingqiu put barely any strength in it, but it seemed as though his shixiong preferred to be pulled closer, as he allowed it as though he was some kind of ragdoll.

“I believe that some would say that you have danced around the matter entirely too much, Yue Qi,” Shen Qingqiu said with a huff, now that he had succeeded in ensnaring his prey. “You are quite lucky that you are still so easy to read.”

Yue Qingyuan seemed to melt into putty at the use of his name (again, what a sap) and curled in towards his shidi like a flower facing the sun. “This one is quite lucky indeed…” with this, he paused as though considering his options, before continuing hesitantly. “A-Jiu?” He tried, looking truly abhorrently hopeful.

Shen Qingqiu gave a judgemental sniff, though his own ears had pinkened. “I’ll allow it.”

The older man’s smile widened to the point where surely his cheeks must be hurting, and slowly, as though he were handling some sort of treasure, wrapped his arms around the other’s waist. “So magnanimous,” he murmured, pulling the other peak lord in closer.

---

Shen Yuan had just returned from a Night Hunt with Shang Qinghua - or, rather, more of an excursion to complete an errand - and seemed to be buzzing with excitement. Shen Qingqiu might not fully understand his son’s love of beasts, but he could see why the boy must be feeling that way; after all, it was not every day that one finds that they may have just discovered a new one.

“I visited Peng-shishu, and she wasn’t sure about it either!” A-Yuan exclaimed over tea, eyes sparkling.

The Qing Jing peak lord gave a hum, sipping from his cup as he thought. He and Peng Qingxin may not have interacted much, but he knew how seriously his shimei took her job. She was probably just as excited as Shen Yuan was, and likely was scouring through every book on Shou Hun for an explanation. “And it was… a snake?”

Shen Yuan shook his head as he munched on a pastry. “I mean, kind of? But it was super weird, with patches of what looked like skin, too! It made Shang-shishu scream like a baby.”

‘Though his cowardice is to be expected… I suppose I cannot blame him for having such a reaction to a creature like that,’ Shen Qingqiu thought to himself.

The beast he was describing sounded quite horrifying, but it didn’t dampen Shen Yuan’s enthusiasm for it one bit. In fact, it only seemed to intrigue the boy further, as he explained the signs of intelligence when it came to both guarding the mushrooms in the first place and in eventually relenting without much fight. Not without both Shang Qinghua and Gongyi Xiao’s willingness to do so, however, as it seemed like neither of his son’s companions felt nearly as fascinated by the thing as he did.

Shen Qingqiu set down his cup. “Well, I am certain that Shou Hun shall be eager to record this new sighting,” he said with the diplomacy of a father who had long grown used to not understanding his son’s enthusiasm in the field.

“Yeah! I kind of hope they can find it, or at least another of its species. It would be so cool to have discovered something new!” Shen Yuan exclaimed with a grin. Then, as though remembering something, the boy leaned in over the table, his expression turning smug and mischievous in equal measure. “So… did anything interesting happen around here while I was away, Baba? Maybe involving my favorite shibo?”

Instantly, his mind jumped to Ning Yingying to blame. Though Shen Qingqiu loved the girl like a daughter, her penchant for gossip was a force to be reckoned with.

“Two laps around the peak for gossip about your shizun,” he intoned dryly.

Shen Yuan gave a whine of complaint, pouting in the same way he’d done since he was small and wanted to worm his way out of trouble. “Aw, Baba! Come one, you know that you can tell me!”

“Another lap for disobedience, and I shall add one more for each new word of protest, A-Yuan,” Shen Qingqiu replied, and though he was punishing his son, they both knew that it was harmless. Or… as close as harmless as he could be, because he still very much meant for Shen Yuan to complete those laps.

A grumble came from his son, and the cheeky thing stuffed three more pastries in his mouth before rising to his feet and giving a sloppy bow, before retreating to his punishment.

‘Ning Yingying shall have four laps,’ Shen Qingqiu thought to himself.

---

“Master Yan was thinking of going into seclusion at some point this year,” Ming Fan reported, ever-dutiful. The head disciple did this every day, sometimes multiple times a day - whenever there was news on the peak or in the sect that he felt that Shen Qingqiu needed to hear, the young man was dutiful enough to head to the Bamboo House to pass it on. Perhaps some would be annoyed by its frequency, but it almost served as a point of comfort for the Qing Jing peak lord.

(If he knew everything, that meant he had control over it).

Shen Qingqiu gave a hum. “Tell her that she may do so whenever she pleases, so long as she submits the required form before going to the Linxi Caves.”

Truthfully, he did not care much about when old Yan Xin went into seclusion; she was unlikely to progress any further, and probably planned to use it as more of a resting period than anything. Still, the Xiu Ya sword found himself appreciative of the power he held over those in Qing Jing. It was not a position that he’d wanted, and it still wasn’t something that he considered himself fond of, but now that he had it, he would hold onto it greedily and refuse to let go. Just as he did with any scrap of power or love that he had.

Ming Fan nodded, though it was likely that he had predicted the older man’s answer. “Of course, shizun. This humble disciple shall do so at once.” He gave a respectful bow, before turning to leave.

It was another thing that Shen Qingqiu found himself appreciating in his choice of head disciple - Ming Fan never lingered when he was not needed.

As the young man left, the Qing Jing peak lord looked back down to the scroll in his hands, outlining another potential night hunt. A plague had broken out in some faraway city, and Mu Qingfang was requesting help when he went to deal with it.

Shen Qingqiu wasn’t in favor of sending Shen Yuan off on anything that might be dangerous, but it was tempting nonetheless. After all, his son had not been off the mountain for a few months, and it was clear that he was starting to get restless. Besides, Liu Qingge was going, and though the Xiu Ya sword still did not fully like his shidi, he knew the man well enough to know that he would do everything in his power to protect A-Yuan.

‘I suppose that there is no harm in asking,’ Shen Qingqiu thought, setting the scroll aside decisively. ‘Besides, A-Yuan has always been a lucky child. It’s unlikely that he shall come to harm.’

So, having made up his mind, the Qing Jing peak lord set into motion something that he would have never dreamed of.