Chapter Text
Shen Qingqiu was in the depths of a forgotten temple with Luo Binghe by his side, picking up the magic mirror they were after with a cloth to inspect its veracity, when the System interrupted with a harsh trill.
【 ALERT! Possible canon divergence found! Accept alternate critical quest "Wife Plot #1"?
WARNING: Accepting this quest will replace critical quest "The Endless Abyss and Endless Hatred, a Sky Filled with Crystal Frost and Tears of Blood".
[Yes] [No] 】
Shen Qingqiu's immediate reaction to the System's offer was suspicion.
It was a month before the Immortal Alliance Conference, and he had been living in a happy bubble of denial about it, only thinking about it before sending Luo Binghe on more night hunts than normal to try to prepare him for what lay ahead and get himself used to being alone. He would still love to avert the Abyss Arc entirely, and he... did not want to fulfill a quest named The Endless Abyss and Endless Hatred, a Sky Filled with Crystal Frost and Tears of Blood if he could help it, but Wife Plot #1 was nondescript in the extreme.
Show quest details, he said warily.
【 Answering host: No quest details are available at the time. Accept the quest to learn more! 】
...Will it make me push him in the Abyss?
【 Answering host: No. 】
Will it make me do anything worse to him?
【 Answering host: No. 】
Will it make me do anything worse to me?
【 Answering host: No. 】
...Suspicious. Very suspicious. And, really, he had committed this far hadn't he? He's spent months now preparing his little lamb as well as he could. Wouldn't averting it now for a single wife just... be a waste?
Then he thought about the expression that little lamb would make upon being faced with the first true wolf down there, and felt queasy and cold all over.
He slammed Yes to wipe that image from his mind's eye.
【 Alternate critical quest "Wife Plot #1" accepted!
Quest objective: Help Luo Binghe lose his virginity before time runs out!
Time remaining: 0m 29d 23h 59m 59s
Failure to complete quest will result in the loss of 10,000 satisfaction points.
Good luck, Host! 】
Shen Qingqiu promptly fumbled the mirror. As he stared at the System window in horror, it fell to the ground and shattered, releasing a dense plume of white smoke.
Luo Binghe was having a good day.
Shizun had been sending him out on more and more night hunts recently, usually alone, to prepare him for the upcoming Immortal Alliance Conference, and while he appreciated the practice, every moment not spent by his master's side felt wasted, in some sense. Even if it was helping him get stronger to properly protect his loved ones.
In a bid to spend a little more time with the man he loved so dearly without stunting his growth, he'd successfully cajoled Shizun into joining him on this one.
They were currently out to collect the Mirror of Gninraey—an artifact that had made Shizun stare at the mission details with the strangest look on his face, then explain, with an odd agitated twitch in the fingers gripping his fan, that it was a mirror that showed you what you yearned for the most. Luo Binghe wondered what Shizun yearned for the most, to get him to make that kind of face. He wondered if he would ever find out, and ached at the thought.
Shizun had then muttered, it's a hand mirror, like that makes it any better, what a hack, and had refused to elaborate on why that was important.
They tracked it down to a forgotten temple in the thick of a forest teeming with dangerous monsters—the pride and admiration in the looks Shizun gave him after those fights had instantly justified all the extra night hunts a hundred times over, and Luo Binghe had had to make an excuse about hand fishing in the river for dinner twice after thinking about them a little too, ah, hard—and said temple turned out to be filled with objects of spiritual or magical significance.
(Shizun murmured, plot storehouse, as they walked in, startling an ungraceful snort out of Luo Binghe, which in turn evoked a real, unguarded smile from his reticent Shizun.
After the Conference, after the Conference, after the Conference, Luo Binghe had repeated to himself as he stared helplessly, entranced and entrapped. He'd collected a handful of courting gifts already, was refining his musical compositions and poetry, and—if he could just prove himself at the Conference, show Shizun that he could be a worthy suitor to the immortal Xiu Ya Sword...)
They found the hall that contained rows of strange objects and artifacts, which they split up to inspect, with mutual warnings not to touch anything (a reminder Luo Binghe was very certain Shizun needed more than he did).
He was considering a rose trapped in a strange, transparent dome when he heard the shatter and sprinted to his master's side.
"Shizun? Shizun!" he called out, instantly spotting the smoke surrounded by strange, silvery shards.
He could hear someone coughing, who he would have assumed was his master except the size of the lungs was evidently very different. Smaller, thinner, higher.
He skidded to a stop just as the smoke started to clear, Shizun! on his lips, and—
The figure was wearing Shizun's robes, but shorter and thinner, sash sliding off and robe hems pooling on the ground, and the face—
This was the prettiest girl Luo Binghe had ever seen in his life.
Something about the way her long eyelashes framed her green eyes, finely shaped and lightly pink lips, slightly upturned nose, heart-shaped face with dusted-pink cheeks—it came together in such a way that was almost dreamlike, almost uncannily lovely, but less in a 'peerless beauty' way and more of a 'combination of every feature Luo Binghe had ever looked at twice before Shizun wiped everyone else from his vision' way. In a 'if not for Shizun, Luo Binghe would have suffered an instant 289 point loss' way.
"Ah, Binghe—" the girl said in a voice that flowed over his scalp and down his spine in a warm shiver—and then Luo Binghe registered the way her mouth formed his name as her hand went up to her throat with a look of confusion.
"...Shizun?" Luo Binghe croaked.
She—he blinked at Luo Binghe, eyelashes fluttering over a familiar remote look. "Yes? What—oh."
He patted down his chest for a moment, even more confused, and then—cupped and lifted, demonstrating the presence of a soft valley on cleavage exposed by too-loose robes and a certain amount of soft fullness under all a Peak Lord's layers, and—Luo Binghe felt his face and ears burn at the inexplicable crassness and forwardness of the gesture, right in front of him—
Look away look away look away look away, propriety babbled at him for one or two long blinks before he managed to.
(They look really soft, something shameful in him sighed, and he shoved that thought back with a vengeance.)
"Well, that wasn't it," Shizun sighed in his new, feminine voice, and Luo Binghe bit the inside of his cheek hard before trying to make his own voice work.
"Shizun?"
Shizun attempted to retrieve his fan, but his arms were now lost in the sleeves. As a man, he was a cun or three taller than Luo Binghe; with the body of a girl, he came up to Luo Binghe's lips.
Don't even think about it, Luo Binghe ordered his twitching heart firmly.
His master sighed. "I thought that was the mirror we were looking for. The patterns looked right. But, obviously, it was a fake."
"Ah, because of the transformation?" said Luo Binghe, gratefully seizing on a topic that would distract him from his, ahem, wayward-leaning thoughts and give him a chance to try to get Shizun's attention again. "You said it only showed an image of what you yearned most for."
"No, no. The Mirror of Gninraey can do it as well." His master flapped a long sleeve in lieu of his fan. "But you know full well that this master is an old man. Why on earth would he want to look like this?"
Something about that logic and the tone it was said in made Luo Binghe's head tilt. He could recall at least three legends off the top of his head about men who had become women because they wanted to, and it wasn't like nearly every apothecary didn't have at least one way to change one's outer presentation, whether that be dried Yin-Yang Lotus petals or weighted qi stones.
But the way Shizun said it was strange. Derisive, thorny, a little... uncomfortable?
"As you say, Shizun," he said eventually, because the tension in the tendons of Shizun's delicate throat suggested he wouldn't take any other answer very well. Crouching, he began to collect the shards of the mirror, checking them over for signs of a planted duplicate. "Would my master describe the real mirror again?"
Shizun graciously complied, voice even more musical and gentle than it usually was, sinking hooks into the place in Luo Binghe's brain where all the latent want resided and pulling.
Luo Binghe bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted copper and forced himself to focus.
After he'd collected every piece and studied it based on Shizun's description, he said, "As far as this humble disciple's inspection goes, this looks exactly like the correct one, Shizun."
Shizun huffed, cheeks puffing cutely for a moment. "An identical copy, then. Rare, for an artifact of this type—at least the name would be different—but not unheardof. We will need to give our apologies to the mayor and return to the sect. This master must return to research his affliction and see how to correct it, and Binghe should return as well. We'll hand off the que—mission to another peak."
"Yes, Shizun," said Luo Binghe obediently. Then he asked, "Does my master wish to stop by an apothecary on the way back?" The kinds of cures an apothecary could offer would only turn him into a male version of his current form, but maybe that would be more comfortable for Shizun...?
"We're hardly going to find the fix there, Binghe," Shizun said, amused, and Luo Binghe quietly filed that away while giving his shortened master a respectful nod.
With that, Shizun turned towards the exit and took a single step, only to give a very undignified and unfairly adorable squeak as he tripped.
Luo Binghe caught him before he hit the ground, only to receive a very visceral impression of the shape of his new body beneath the robes—the softness, the delicacy, the lithe muscle and how his waist seemed designed to fit in the crook of Luo Binghe's arm—
Shizun colored softly, embarrassed, then glanced up at his disciple through his eyelashes, a weapon Luo Binghe was used to employing suddenly, violently turned against him. "Ah, Binghe, this master thanks you."
A garbled noise escaped Luo Binghe's throat, and he hurriedly set Shizun on his feet again, face hot and heart slamming against his rib cage. (Too cute!! Lethal!! Shizun!! Have mercy!!)
Shizun dusted himself off with a soft huff, then tried to take a step again—and tripped immediately.
A moment of silence with all of Shizun's new softness pressed against Luo Binghe through their combined layers, and then Shizun sighed. "Binghe, if you could..."
Luo Binghe cleared his throat. "Of course, Shizun."
Scooping Shizun into a princess carry, silently marveling at how light he was like this, Luo Binghe removed both of them from the temple.
In theory, Luo Binghe's situation shouldn't be much different from what it was before they'd walked into that temple. This was still his immortal master who he was irrevocably in love with. That was still the man he desperately wanted to take advantage of his willing body who he was traveling with alone. Both this face and his previous face had been faces that Luo Binghe would happily wile away hours simply staring at. That he was now a head shorter than Luo Binghe and looked much more like an adorable shimei than an untouchable legend shouldn't matter that much, in theory.
In theory.
In reality...
Trying not to think too hard about what it felt like to have Shizun's arms around his neck, chest to criminally soft chest and breath ghosting against the collar of his robes, he had offered up one of his own disciple uniforms. It was still too big, but the boots could be resized with a talisman and used to hold the excess length of his pants, and it was the work of minutes to hem the sleeves to a suitable length. The fabric of the uniform was rougher and thicker than Shizun's silk robes and stood up to emergency modifications much better, though it hurt Luo Binghe's primordial soul to make his master wear anything so harsh on his skin.
...And maybe if he focused hard enough on that, his brain would stop going hot and liquidy at the sight of Shizun's collarbones peeking through the neckline and the graceful, sinuous curve of his backside revealed by the fit of the cloth.
Once revealed by better-fitting clothes, Shizun looked about fifteen-or-sixteen in build and the fullness of his cheek, with a bust a bit more generous than previous layers had suggested (Luo Binghe was doing everything he could to keep his eyes above his master's exposed collarbones, but it was impossible to keep out of his peripheral vision entirely) and full hips.
He moved in that form with a surprising amount of ease, adjusting easily to the loss of height, and simply completed a few sets of sword drills to get a feel for Xiu Ya again.
(Luo Binghe stared at his hemming with saliva pooling in his mouth and blood pooling in his groin and decided not to look up for the sake of his continued survival.)
On the walk back to the town, they discussed what their cover story would be when they returned to the sect.
"How old do I look?" Shizun inquired, thoughtful and unthinkably casual.
Luo Binghe cleared his throat and kept his eyes on the horizon. The switch to less formal language wasn't one he entirely knew how to deal with, but the suddenly reduced distance of it certainly wasn't good for his heart! "Fifteen or sixteen, Shizun."
His master nodded thoughtfully. "A shimei then. We can say I'm Shen Qingqiu's rogue cultivator cousin... typical, but it may just work."
"...'Typical', Shizun?"
His expression twitched, enchantingly bare without his fan. "...Never mind that." Then another thoughtful look stole over his features, and he turned to Luo Binghe with a coy smile. "Am I pretty?"
Ahh... ahahahaha... ha...
"Yes, Shizun," said Luo Binghe, keeping his eyes on the horizon, because water was wet, the sky was blue, and Shizun's new face seemed meticulously calculated to drive Luo Binghe specifically wild.
Shizun resettled his shoulders, pleased, which made his chest jiggle, which made keeping Luo Binghe's eyes on the horizon about twenty times harder. Then he hugged it with a frustrated little pout, squishing it deliciously and— "Well, I suppose with these, I should have guessed it. How do women fight with these things? They don't stop moving."
Despite the pout(!!!), Shizun didn't actually seem displeased by this fact.
Luo Binghe, who was both a washerwoman's son and the head disciple who often signed off on clothing requisitions for the peak, said, "They have undergarments for that, Shizun."
"Xianxia bras," Shizun said wisely, and Luo Binghe dutifully memorized the words, though they meant nothing to him. "I hesitate to announce our presence this way to the clients, but we should probably stop in the next town over to pick some up." He looked down at his bare wrist. "Some better-fitting girls' clothing wouldn't go amiss either."
"Understood, Shizun," said Luo Binghe steadily, and suffered in silence for the rest of the walk.
Luo Binghe went alone to apologize to the mayor, who was thankfully not too upset about the whole thing. He seemed to want it more as a way to find out what he wanted in life than as an artifact, and Luo Binghe pointed him in the direction of more mundane ways to find that out, and left.
"I suppose I'll need a new name, too," Shizun said as they approached the next town. "My clan name will stay, but for a given name..." He paused, pursed his lips in an unfortunately kissable way, then glanced to the left for a moment. "...Yuan."
"Yuan?" Luo Binghe echoed, surprised. He'd expected something a little more overtly feminine, given how warmly his shizun seemed to be accepting the role.
An odd look flickered across his face, then he coughed softly and plastered the aloof look back on. "Yuan. As in 'wall'."
...Maybe it was the name of someone he knew? Or had known? Nonetheless, Luo Binghe nodded. "Shen Yuan."
With a teasing smile that made Luo Binghe's pulse stutter, Shizun corrected, "That's Shen-shimei, to you... Luo-shixiong."
"Ah," said Luo Binghe intelligently. He felt quite normal about being addressed as such in such a tone by his master. Very normal. The bone-dry mouth and overwhelming desire to find a private location to strip his cock raw were entirely incidental. "Shen-shimei."
Shizun covered a giggle with his hand, green eyes in happy crescents and a soft pink blush on his cheeks that Luo Binghe suddenly, desperately wanted to see deepen. To make deepen. With teeth and tongue and hands and c— "This shimei will be in your care then, Luo-shixiong."
Luo Binghe choked out something wordless and decided, for his sanity, that he wouldn't glance at her—him for the rest of the trip.
Luo Binghe could not be said to be easily embarrassed. He had come from humble origins, and he was well aware that there were fates much, much worse than a gaffe.
But his face still wouldn't stop burning as he purchased an inn room for them and the proprietress teasingly offered them a room with a single bed instead of two.
Shizun—Shen-shimei, as she'd reminded him twice on the road, and then insisted he change his terms of address for her as well, to better prepare for when they returned to the sect—trailed after him with a knowing grin that didn't help one bit.
"I was worried about shixiong, but it turns out he's still a little weak to girls, ah?" she half-purred, tapping a fingertip up his spine. "Cuuuute."
There was a misunderstanding of some sort there that Luo Binghe would have loved to correct, but he was distracted by abrupt realization that he was ticklish and also that his shizun-turned-shimei had just called him cute.
He was still trying not to fall flat on his face with every step as they walked into the room, frantically reciting weiqi openings as he set down their bags, and then realized that Shen-shimei had frozen, staring at the full length mirror as though she was seeing a ghost.
"Sh—Shen-shimei?" he asked, worried. Then, when no response came, he tried, "Shizun? ...Shizun?"
No response.
He circled around behind her, trying to see what she saw, and—
Teasing Binghe was fun like this, Shen Yuan had been thinking as she surveyed the room they had rented. On some level, she'd been worried the stallion protagonist was growing up asexual, from how much he seemed to prefer his stodgy old master's company to his sect sisters', even at the excessively hormonal age of seventeen. Turned out, all they needed was for that stodgy old master to set an example! Maybe now he would finally realize his stallion destiny!!
(If she felt anything about that—no, she didn't. Nothing except pride, that is!!)
And then she caught sight of the mirror.
She was curious! She'd been turned into a teenage girl by some shitty mirror pretending to be Airplane's worst Harry Potter knockoff!! (Yes, there had been enough that she could rank them. Yes, Peerless Cucumber had read that shitty hack the riot act for each of them and still didn't feel as though she'd said enough.) Of course she wanted to know!!
From her figure, it would make sense if the shattered mirror was some unused wife plot or other—probably discarded from the early days, given that it turned her into a teenager close to the protagonist's age—and her dear disciple had at least politely informed her that this body was pretty, so who could blame her for being curious!!!
So she looked in the mirror.
And immediately wished she hadn't.
The problem was, she knew this face. And she wished she didn't!! She really wished she didn't!!!!
It was—and it pained her to admit it, even to herself—a character Shen Yuan had daydreamed before bed a couple of times, a faint idea of what if there had been an actually decent wife in the early days that Shen Yuan had never, ever, ever imagined would ever come up again!! She had barely even touched the idea after the first couple silly flights of fancy!!
...And, you know, since she already had this character, it had been convenient for papapa-skimming purposes to replace the wife of the week with her and imagine what she'd do differently to make Luo Binghe feel good, because god knew he barely got any much-deserved love from whoever he was fucking this time, completely normal defense against the—look!! She was underdeveloped!! Barely more than a shitty shallow self-insert that should never have touched the world of PIDW in any way, shape, or format!!!
So why did Shen Qingqiu suddenly look like her?!!!
"...Shizun?" broke in the protagonist in question, still so sweet and innocent and unblackened and not at all and yet very much the man this character had been designed and refined to spread her legs for. Eyes like brilliant stars were clouded with worry as they studied her from above.
Because he was taller than her now. Because she'd dreamed up this character to be shorter than him, because the narration had mentioned multiple times that he liked being able to easily tuck a woman under his chin to protect. And she'd... paid attention to that. Thought about it. A little bit. Sometimes. Maybe.
"Binghe," she said weakly. She didn't think any shred of her face, thickened by womanhood though it was, could survive trying to call him shixiong at the moment.
(Horribly, she thought of her most recent System-given quest, and wanted to die. Why!! If this character had to come into existence, why was it Shen Qingqiu who turned into her?! If she had simply wandered into the plot, she would have been perfect for the mission, but as it was, Luo Binghe would never, ever, ever be able to forget that it was his old master inside of her. If she tried to complete the mission with this body, forget blackening from the Abyss, the protagonist may well blacken from just putting it in!!!!)
"Shizun," he said, low and careful. "Is everything alright? My master looks... disturbed."
Ha. Hahahahaha. Disturbed.
That was one way to put it!!!
"Ah," she said, scrambling for the poser power she had spent years refining. "Yes. This body... simply looks like someone I once knew. It was a shock to see it."
His face softened in sympathy and understanding, and Shen Yuan's heart wept bitter tears. "Would my master like this mirror covered?"
Shen Yuan released a shaky breath, and nodded. It would be better for her sanity. "Thank you, Binghe."
He picked up a sheet from the bed she hadn't chosen and tossed it over the mirror in one graceful motion, then retreated to the bathroom for his nightly routine.
With her disciple safely out of sight, Shen Yuan turned to her bed, pulled a fluffy down pillow out of her qiankun pouch, and collapsed onto it with a quiet groan.
She still needed to plan how to get Ning Yingying or Liu Mingyan into bed with her precious bun, and maybe keep an eye out for one of the better wives on the way back. Some of them should be around his age, right? She could think of a few inappropriately mature immortals, and a couple who weren't yet out of their diapers, but—surely there were some age-mates around the foot of Cang Qiong Mountain, right?
What a mess.