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Shen Qingqiu has always hated touch just as much as he craved it.
When he was Xiao Jiu, the only person who he let touch him was Qi-ge. Then Qi-ge left him alone in a mansion of horrors, and the only touches he got there left scars behind, whether physical or mental. Qiu Haitang's touches were soft, but they burned to a point that Shen Jiu had to check everywhere she touched once he was alone just to be sure he hadn't actually been burnt.
Wu Yanzi never once tried to touch him unless it was to beat him for a mistake. When Xiao Jiu was brought along to brothels, the jiejies there didn't burn him like Qiu Haitang did, but they didn't feel nice like Qi-ge had either. They were simply… touches, like nothing else had ever been. It was a relief. The thought of there being touches that didn't burn was like a drug, addicting like nothing else had ever been. He began to look forward to his demented shizun's brothel visits, if only to experience a touch that didn't hurt once more, not knowing if this would be the last time.
When he found Qi-ge again, his heart broke in so many ways. The one person he thought he could trust, not even trying to come back for him, trying to hide everything they'd ever been and sweep everything under the rug. His brother, who now wanted nothing to do with him, who's touches now burned harsher than Qiu Haitang's ever had.
It made him sick to his stomach and so, so angry.
He'd known the world was cruel and hateful to people like him, but he thought that Qi-ge, at the very least, was his. Yet now Qi-ge was dead, and the only thing that was left was the horrid Yue Qingyuan. He let his once brother use his position to get Xiao Jiu a place on the second-highest ranking peak, one last gift torn from his hands before they never had to interact again.
Then he became Shen Jiu, disciple of Qing Jing Peak of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, and touches managed to get even worse. Despite the layers he covered himself in, hiding away every piece of his body from his neck down to his toes, every brief touch lit a fire where it landed, burning him up from the outside in. Every spar, every handshake, every correction in his posture, they burned in ways he'd never felt before, ways he wished he could stop feeling.
As he leaped up the rankings within Qing Jing, he added more and more layers to his daily outfits, yet nothing seemed to block the terrible, beautiful fire every touch brought him. He stumbled upon the Warm Red Pavilion and nearly cried from relief, hoping, for the first time in a long time, that at least this touch would remain unchanged. Would remain neutral, a pleasant balm of normalcy on the burns left behind from everyone else.
The jiejies welcomed him with open arms, a more soothing presence than anyone on the mountains high above them.
He began to seek solace there more and more often, though he had to cut back on the nights he spent there when his shizun promoted him to head disciple. He didn't realize just how much he had come to rely on the neutral touches of his jiejies to calm the burns until he was on the verge of qi deviating from how much he wanted to rip his own skin off, if only to stop the burning sensation. And so he went back to frequenting the Warm Red Pavilion, remembering his first few experiences with the neutral touch where he related it to a drug wryly; if only little Xiao Jiu could see him know, desperately hiding in the arms of a jiejie so he didn't give in to the urge to tear into his own flesh.
Unfortunately for Shen Jiu, being head disciple put him in view of even more people, and not all of them took kindly to a fellow disciple apparently being quite the frequenter at a brothel. The rumors grew almost immediately, adding being a lecher on top of his already many assumed crimes. Shen Jiu ignored them, knowing no one would listen to whatever he had to say anyways; he didn't expect them to follow him down to the brothel and bodily drag him out while loudly attempting to shame him for being a lecher and a disgrace.
Unfortunately for whatever disciple was trying to instill morals into him, Shen Jiu was far too distracted by the burning feeling crawling up his arm from where the boy had a tight hold on his wrist to listen to him at all. The same boy showed up to almost every single visit Shen Jiu made to the Warm Red Pavilion from then on, dragging him out and making a larger scene each time. It was only later, at one of the mock Peak Lord meetings between the current head disciples, that Shen Jiu finally got a name to put to the face: Liu Qingge, head disciple of Bai Zhan Peak.
Shen Jiu was not about to let some brute tell him what he could and could not do, where he could and could not go; clearly the boy had little going for him in the way of critical thinking, if he still had not figured out not once had Shen Jiu touched any of the brothel jiejies in the ways their regular customers did.
Not long after, he became Shen Qingqiu, and became the new Peak Lord of Qing Jing. At that point, nothing really changed; Liu Qingge still fought him on everything, Yue Qingyuan still spewed endless apologies with no explanations, his other shidimei still hated him to his face; touch still burned even through seven layers of clothing. He expected it would remain this way until he reached his own ascension.
Of course it was the brute who made it all go to hell.
It was an easy, simple flower-picking mission, that really shouldn't have required two peak lords; however, Mu-shidi had insisted, saying it was closely defended by difficult beasts but would still need a careful hand to harvest it. Mu-shidi neglected to mention the truth-forcing effects of the pollen, and just how volatile the flowers were.
Shen Qingqiu had stood to the side as Liu Qingge fought with the beast, knowing he would be accused of being underfoot or attempted backstabbing if he even tried to help. The fight didn't take long, but as soon as the beast's head was severed from its body, the pale pink flowers surrounding them exploded, releasing their pollen into the air.
The garishly bright pink substance clung to the robes of both Shen Qingqiu and Liu Qingge; any attempt made by either of them to remove it (and there were many) simply spread it around further.
What followed was an explosion of emotions and truth that Shen Qingqiu would like to never recall again.
It took them quite some time, and there were lots of bumps in the road along the way, but with the dirtiest truths already out in the open it was a much smoother ride than it could've been. They managed to get closer than anyone ever expected them to get, and Liu Qingge proved himself to actually be able to follow boundaries unlike a certain sect leader.
Shen Qingqiu had almost jolted out of his skin when the next touch that came from Liu Qingge didn't hurt.
They had been walking back to the Bamboo House after a short spar; winter had fully settled into the peaks, and snow had begun to fall. The silence between them had been companionable, with only the crunch of their boots and the wind in the bamboo breaking it. Liu Qingge had mindlessly reached out, as he often did, though he did not catch himself before making contact this time. The soft brush of his fingers clearing Shen Qingqiu's shoulder of snow had gone unnoticed by the both of them until it hadn't.
Liu Qingge had tried to apologize, but Shen Qingqiu simply shoved a hand over his mouth as his mind swirled, trying to figure out how he hadn't noticed the touch and shifted away as he usually did.
"Do it again." Shen Qingqiu had demanded, eyes wide. Liu Qingge had frowned, but did as he was asked, slowly lifting his hand to rest it on Shen Qingqiu's shoulder.
Shen Qingqiu had stared down at the offending limb, feeling the touch, but it was unaccompanied by the usual burn or even just the neutrality of the brothel jiejies; it felt… nice. It felt soft, and unassuming, and safe.
Everything seemed to click into place from there; Liu Qingge was freer in his affections (though Shen Qingqiu would rather die than admit how long it took him to realize that they were indeed affections, and not just friendly touches), and Shen Qingqiu was more willingly to accept them.
He had known the addicting nature of neutral touches, but he had underestimated just how much worse and better the soft touches of a lover would be. It didn't take long for Shen Qingqiu to begin simply placing Liu Qingge's hands where he wanted them to be, the other man happily going along with a soft expression on his face.
Where once the peak lords of Qing Jing and Bai Zhan were known for their fierce rivalry and hatred for each other, they were now better known (at least among Cang Qiong members) for being an infuriatingly shameless couple that was almost always touching in one way or another.
As Shen Qingqiu stares down at the man half asleep on top of him, book long discarded in favor of running his hands through his lover's hair, he can't say he's really that mad about losing the ability to easily instill fear into disciples, if this is what he gets in exchange.