Chapter Text
Shen Jiu should have hated his brother. He knew this from the beginning, when it was harder to outrun men with sticks while holding a clinging little hand. He knew this when food was scarce and he’d had to split meager portions. Shen Jiu could have run faster with more food and no weight to hold him back.
But Shen Jiu thought he would’ve hated himself far more if Yuan-di did not exist. Having to fight for only himself, with the things he had done and was capable of doing would only have made him bitter and feel unworthy.
Shen Yuan, however, was worth fighting for. Worth protecting. Worth giving him more than the split of portions so his skin wouldn’t hang off his bones. Shen Jiu had been trying to capture a light in his hand since he was born and it kept dimming, unless it was near his little brother’s smile.
It was easier to handle the betrayal of being left, of knowing Qi-ge was never coming back, when he knew he’d fight until his teeth were raw before he’d ever do the same. Of course acknowledgment of that betrayal had taken far longer to sink in. Shen Jiu had been young and stupid once.
“Why did I waste all this time teaching you to read?” Qiu Jianluo’s voice was mild, bored, and on the edge of waiting to snap. Then the more upsetting and dangerous tone came to replace it. He was happy. “Or are you stilled with shock at my benevolence?”
Shen Jiu looked up from the marriage contract carefully. Qiu Jianluo had made it clear Shen Jiu was some kind of pet for his sister and too often himself, not…
“This lowly servant… is surprised,” Shen Jiu settled for. Occasionally being overly differential kept the bastard from escalating.
That seemed to have been the correct response, because Qiu Jianluo beamed at him. “Shock. I should not be surprised. Tang-er is so far above you, but ah, I cannot begrudge my darling sister anything.”
Ah. Shen Jiu realized. He wanted an easy way to keep Haitang close to him. She was marriageable age and the standing of the Qiu family, her substantial dowry established before her parents passing, and her general good looks and demeanor would make her eligible for many offers. Offers that would put her far beyond her brother’s reach.
It would be difficult for Qiu Jianluo to pretend himself not a beast if he no longer had anyone worth playing the part for.
“The… young miss wants this?” Shen Jiu asked, still carefully.
Qiu Jianluo, for all his prior remarks on not begrudging her anything, scoffed. As if to say, that anything Qiu Jianluo wanted was what his sister would as well. “She will be pleased. That’s enough.” His jaw shifted. “I assume you’re amiable. I wouldn’t have wasted my time cleaning you up otherwise.”
Marrying Qiu Haitang would require freeing Shen Jiu of his contract, but would tie him in another form of one and this house. He’d be as bound to this house and Qiu Jianluo as he ever was… but the temptation of the small freedoms it would afford were nothing to immediately shove aside.
And he could free Yuan-di. He was barely seven, but took to second-hand writing and reading lessons even beyond what Shen Jiu was able to initially pick up. It would not be impossible at his age to find him a spot somewhere, maybe even one of those cultivation sects that Qi-ge must never have made it to. He doubted Qiu Jianluo would release the purse strings to provide for any of these options, but it would be much easier to get them without the shackles holding them to the house.
“If this is what Qiu Haitang wants,” Shen Jiu said, “then of course this one is amiable.”
***
When Shen Jiu went to seek Qiu Haitang out, she was in the middle of examining new fabrics. The tailor (and trader) was patiently frustrated as she dithered about and held one ribbon or another up to her face. She wasn’t truly unpleasant in looks or personality.
“A-Jiu!” she said, once she noticed him. “Which of these do you think goes with the purple silk the trader brought?” She was holding up ten ribbons. Shen Jiu had not realized until he looked over that Shen Yuan was also there, covered in about forty more of them.
The tailor looked at Shen Jiu pleadingly.
“Xiao-Shen has been useless,” Qiu Haitang said, not unkindly but Shen Jiu automatically stiffened at it. She didn't seem to notice as she tittered on. “A coat rack with no opinions.”
He could barely see Shen Yuan’s face, but one of the ribbons moved as he scrunched up his nose.
Most of the colors were pale, lavender and would fade out in her hair. Shen Jiu picked one that would go with her complexion. It didn’t really matter if it went with the fabric, she always wore the same set of colors.
She took the offered ribbon and let out a delighted noise. It was very close to a piglet’s squeal. Not… terribly un-charming.
“Can I put these back now?” Shen Yuan asked, from underneath his pile of ribbons.
Qiu Haitang waved her assent, though Shen Yuan couldn’t see it, covered in ribbons. Coat rack. Shen Jiu frowned and helped free his brother’s face and bring them to the tailor, refusing to sort them for the fool. He should’ve been better at fluffing her ego if he wanted a sale.
After getting her ribbon, Qiu Haitang decided she needed a new hairpin to go with it. That required going to the market. Qiu Jianluo gave permission and an assessing look in both their direction as they went with a maid as chaperone.
He hoped Yuan had snuck into the kitchens again. Some of the staff was fond of him there. Or at least would leave him alone.
“A-Jiu,” Qiu Haitang asked, slipping her arm into his. “Did Gege talk to you yet?”
“He talks to me quite often,” Shen Jiu said. He talked at him more like, but it was preferable to other things he was inclined to do.
She looked at him sideways, slightly coy. “A-Jiu, please don’t tease me.”
Qiu Haitang was a little silly, but she was kind to him. His life could be… comfortable. Better at least. “Was this his idea?”
She flushed and shrugged a shoulder, suddenly shy. “I… don’t think I would have been clever enough to come up with it,” she admitted. “Gege is better at those sorts of things.”
Maybe he could wait a few years and kill Qiu Jianluo like Shen Jiu suspected had happened to the previous lord. He’d need to understand the succession of the contract. Qiu Haitang likely had male relatives and Shen Jiu didn’t want to think about the necessity of having to bring an heir before making a move. The more he thought about that possibility, the less he liked the idea.
“I would like to stay with A-Jiu,” Qiu Haitang said, soft. Her grip on his arm was light, she’d never left a bruise. She expected things, preened for them, was cosseted and spoiled, but she’d never demanded them in blood.
“How else would you pick the right ribbon?” Shen Jiu agreed.
Qiu Haitang took that as an answer, as he’d wanted. She lit up brightly, squeezing his arm as she tugged him towards the best shops for her new hairpin endeavor.
They went to two stores while she blithely talked about silly things that Shen Jiu doubted had anything to do with a marriage and virtually nothing about running a household. Then he picked up something she’d knocked over, a small wooden figurine of a duck or some other creature and went still.
“What did you say?” Shen Jiu asked.
Qiu Haitang was examining the gold filagree of a pin from multiple angles. She glanced back at him, still cheerful. “Gege didn’t mention? He said, the Lan Clan was looking for a new house servant. They have one boy Xiao-Shen’s age who needs company. It sounds like the perfect spot for him.”
His almost snapped the figure in his hand, but placed it carefully on the shelf instead. “You want to send Yuan away?”
Qiu Haitang brushed his concerns off with the same ease she decided to dismiss the hairpin she was examining and hand it back to the maid to put away. “What would he do at the house? We’ll have children to look after and settling Xiao-Shen with a good family would be the best for everyone.”
A good family that Qiu Jianluo had already picked out. Everything she said oozed of him and even if he’d considered sending Yuan somewhere, he would have refused.
He’d have to find another way. They couldn’t wait for anyone anymore.
The solution came a few days later when a rogue cultivator set up an altar in town attempting to catch an apprentice with potential.
***
Wu Yanzi was an escape, though Shen Jiu had no misgivings that it would be a permanent one. His new cultivation master was a thief, a killer, and a shark. Those were skills to survive on. And he’d never even flinched when Shen Jiu took Shen Yuan’s hand and led them both away from the flames of the Qiu Estate.
He’d thought Wu Yanzi’s disinterest in Shen Yuan had been a good thing, until his disinterest made an opportunity for a snake to almost kill his brother. If Shen Jiu had been there instead of trying to steal supplies from drunk idiot cultivators, none of that would’ve happened.
His master’s mood was sour afterwards, they’d spent most of their hard won funds helping Shen Yuan not bleed out. Even after the Qiu Estate, Shen Jiu had never seen so much blood.
Shen Yuan understandably clung to his brother more. He refused to sleep alone, which was fine. Shen Jiu rarely slept well anyway. He couldn’t wait until he could progress enough in his cultivation that sleep and eating were optional. Besides, Wu Yanzi might have been too dumb to see it, but even at his young age Shen Yuan was always more of a help than a hindrance.
“You have to cut the tail before you stab the heart,” Shen Yuan said, firmly.
“How high up?” Shen Jiu asked.
“The heart or the tail?”
“Tail,” Shen Jiu said, then added, “unless the heart is in a ridiculous place too.”
Shen Yuan shook his head and made a gesture with his arms. “This high up on the tail, where the first segment is split from the rest.”
“Do not move,” Shen Jiu said, keeping Shen Yuan firmly behind the rock face they’d been using to scout for the Leer-Eyed Drake.
Shen Jiu was unsurprised to learn that the creature would have been difficult to kill even with the element of surprise—if he did not have his little brother’s specific insights.
The scales were invaluable for trade. Wu Yanzi had been too focused on trying to trick some nobles in the nearest city with his ‘cultivation’ techniques to care if they went off on their own. That was the best time to attempt this. Shen Jiu knew he could trade these scales for some actual items of use. Wu Yanzi was narrow-minded in far too many ways and the time was coming where Shen Jiu would have gleamed all he could from their master.
There was no point in continuing to travel with Wu Yanzi once he offered them no benefit. It was better not to tip the man off and only venture into a valuable beast’s lair when he was distracted. They needed certain things to survive on their own and coin was how they obtained them.
It took the rest of the day to descale the beast and with Shen Yuan’s tiny knowledge fount of any and every book regarding beasts he was able to find, he could point out which tooth, bone, or other part would be good for medicinal qualities (which Shen Jiu was certain could be turned to poison easy enough).
“Can’t we enter the conference?” Shen Yuan asked, after they’d traded in what they could and stopped to buy warm good food with the earnings before their master was done with his business.
Shen Jiu snorted. “No.”
“But they let anyone in as long as they can fight,” Shen Yuan countered, stubbornly.
“So Yuan-di definitely can’t enter,” Shen Jiu said, enjoying the frustrated puff of annoyance that overtook his brother’s face. “Shifu says he’s done this before. Idiots who get themselves caught up in the demons will have valuable items on them. Talismans, swords. Things the lower level creatures won’t be interested in.”
“Books,” Shen Jiu added, trying to sweeten the pot.
Shen Yuan didn’t take the bait. He munched at the bun he’d gotten, trying to take the smallest bites possible to make it last. Shen Jiu had no problem stealing from those rich sect idiots if they managed to get themselves killed. He doubted they’d ever had to stretch out eating a warm meal, knowing it might be the last for a while.
***
Qi-ge. Yue Qi. Yue Qingyuan. Shen Jiu didn’t care what he called himself now. He needed him to leave them alone.
“Xiao-Jiu,” the Qiong Ding Peak Head Disciple said.
“Don’t call me that,” Shen Jiu snapped. He was getting better at reigning in the urge to bite, claw, and tear so as to better climb ranks at Qing Jing Peak, but Yue Qingyuan baited him by merely coming in proximity.
Yue Qingyuan floundered for a moment and nodded then held his hand out. “It’s for Yuan-shidi,” he said.
It was a shameless maneuver. If he couldn’t get Shen Jiu to talk to him, he’d try any angle. Shen Jiu stared at it and then him and decided he needed to get away before he started throwing dirt. “Then give it to him. Or does Shixiong require me to be a delivery service? Wouldn’t an An Ding disciple be preferable?”
“I… didn’t know if he’d like it or not,” Yue Qingyuan said, folding his hands back over the small trinket. It looked like some stupid figure carved to be the shape of a beast. Shen Yuan would adore it. That only made Shen Jiu more irritated.
“Shixiong seems not to know a lot,” Shen Jiu agreed. Then he scoffed. “You could give him a rotten plum and he’d thank you for it. Don’t pretend this is about Yuan.”
“His manners are better,” Yue Qingyuan said, a bit under his breath.
Shen Jiu snorted. He immediately regretted it. Yue Qingyuan’s head snapped up and he latched onto the sound like it was a beckoning cry of a siren to a sailor. “X—I mean, Shidi?”
No one important was around, so Shen Jiu didn’t pretend he gave a shit about decorum and turned around to walk away. His hands were clenched at his sides and his face felt hot. He wanted Qi-ge to give up so he could focus on more important things. He’d done it before, it wasn’t like Qi-ge needed the practice.
***
When Shen Jiu became Head Disciple of Qing Jing Peak and was awarded the courtesy name of ‘Qingqiu’, Yuan-di went through a growth spurt where his limbs seemed to outgrow him by too many inches and he had the grace of a drunk Gilded Gazelle. It was amusing most of the time, they were safe enough that the vulnerability was less important. Especially since his little brother spent his days in the library, reading and rereading any book he could reach.
Shen Yuan was safe in the library. He was mostly safe on Qing Jing Peak.
Shen Jiu made the mistake of becoming complacent. Yuan’s affection was too easily won and he was not nearly as cautious as he should have been. Their lives had been too bitterly won to account for how easily Shen Yuan still trusted people he shouldn’t.
When his little brother came back to Qing Jing Peak with a black eye and a grin missing a tooth, Shen Jiu went into a fugue state.
He still couldn’t best the ‘war beast’ Liu Qingge in fair combat, but there was no need for that when the idiot was so easy to trick. It was a little easier when Shen Jiu wasn’t so furious at least. Apparently, even though beating disciples into pulp for training was point of order on Bai Zhan Peak, throwing dirt in the eye of its Head Disciple and stabbing him in a tendon, was not.
“I lost the tooth myself, Jiu-ge,” Shen Yuan said later when Shen Jiu’s ten hours of kneeling was finished. Shizun must have thought it was funny for going that easy on him. He was frowning, even as he pushed small pure bursts of his cultivated energy into the bruises on Shen Jiu’s knees.
Of the two of them, Shen Yuan had more potential for cultivation since he’d started earlier, but Shen Jiu didn’t find he resented his brother much for it. Shen Yuan hadn’t been coddled his entire life and usually focused on the finer arts of cultivation not throwing his fists around.
“I suppose Yuan-di gave himself the black eye too.” Shen Jiu knew his tone was sharp, but he was still furious.
“No,” Shen Yuan said, cautiously. He looked up at Shen Jiu, not shy, but hesitant. “I don’t want you to have to get hurt because I can’t defend myself. Liu-shidi was just helping.”
“Defend yourself smarter,” Shen Jiu snapped. Then he dragged his brother into a hug, that Yuan quickly folded into. He refused to give in to the idea that any of that had been acceptable, but he might have gone about his revenge more subtly if he’d remembered one of Shen Yuan’s teeth was loose.
***
Shen Qingqiu, as he had forced himself to think of himself to put Shen Jiu behind him, woke in the Qian Cao Peak infirmary to two voices that were incapable of using a subtle volume. They might as well have been stage whispering.
“Yuan-di, it’s… complicated.” Yue Qingyuan’s voice. Shen Qingqiu tried to swallow his annoyance, only so they wouldn’t realize he was awake yet. It was also… difficult to fully open his eyes at the moment.
Shen Yuan’s small annoyed scoff was satisfying. “That’s what everyone says when they don’t want to explain something because they think I’m too young.”
Yue Qingyuan’s sigh was light and Shen Qingqiu hated how he could hear the faintest hint of amusement. “Perhaps,” he said. “I don’t know if Xiao-Jiu would want me to tell you.”
“He had a qi deviation,” Shen Yuan said, shortly.
“Ah,” Yue Qingyuan said. If Shen Qingqiu hadn’t been internally wincing at the realization of why he was here and what they were both doing, he would have found that amusing.
“Qi-ge,” Shen Yuan said, “why?”
Yue Qingyuan sighed, this time there was no humor in it. “…in training one’s cultivation with our… history. It is… difficult sometimes. And when the response to difficulties is to push your cultivation past its limits too quickly it—” He cleared his throat like something was caught in it. “Everyone has the risk of it. You should take care to pace yourself.”
“I’m not the one in the infirmary,” Shen Yuan pointed out.
“You are more likely to listen to advice given,” Yue Qingyuan said, evenly. Too evenly.
Shen Qingqiu opened his eyes only to glare at the ceiling. “Who saw it?”
“Jiu-ge!” Shen Yuan said in relief and turned quickly to grasp at Shen Qingqiu’s arm.
Yue Qingyuan did not react, which confirmed he knew Shen Qingqiu was awake and had been directing those comments at more than Shen Yuan. “Yuan-shidi found you and then found me. The Qian Cao disciples are discrete.”
Shen Qingqiu scoffed. His throat felt raw, like he’d been screaming. He hated that he couldn’t remember what happened.
“Mu-shidi does not believe it was a… large deviation,” Yue Qingyuan said, as if that was helpful. “But he does—“
“I think Mu-shidi can explain this himself,” Shen Qingqiu said, shortly. “Doesn’t the Qiong Ding Peak Head Disciple have more important matters to attend to?”
“Xiao-Jiu…”
“Don’t.”
Yue Qingyuan opened his mouth and then closed it. He bowed politely and then turned from the room like he was fleeing it. Shen Qingqiu glared after him and likely would have been doing so for a long time, but he could feel Shen Yuan’s small grip on his sleeve and his worried eyes piercing into his face.
“Did I scare you?” Shen Jiu asked softly.
“A little,” Shen Yuan said, as softly. “Mostly, because you didn’t seem to recognize me. S’why I got Qi-ge.”
“Don’t call him that, it’s disrespectful,” Shen Qingqiu said. It had the benefit of turning Shen Yuan’s concerned look into an indignant one.
“It’s why this one got Yue-shixiong,” he said, blithely.
The implication was that he had recognized Qi—Yue Qingyuan. Shen Qingqiu did not want to think about it.
Shen Yuan’s grip was still on sleeve, he was staring at it. His fingers were longer now, but they were so thin and small especially when they clutched at his sleeve like this. “Why are you pushing yourself so hard? You’re already Head Disciple.”
Because I’m broken. Shen Qingqiu did not say. He would need to cultivate in seclusion soon, but he did not want to weaken his position on the Peak and he did not feel comfortable leaving Shen Yuan alone for however long it would take.
“Jiu-ge?”
“What do you think he meant by history?” Shen Qingqiu shifted slightly, giving his brother room and therefore invitation permission to climb onto the cot.
Shen Yuan was getting too big to do so, but he took it anyway—used to crawling into the senior dormitory to sleep with Shen Qingqiu when his night terrors got to be too much. “Malnutrition?”
“Ironic, given the use of inedia in most cultivators,” Shen Qingqiu said, ignoring the weight of Shen Yuan resting against him. He was definitely too old for that, but Shen Qingqiu couldn’t scold him. Shen Qingqiu didn't know what he’d done when he had been too lost in his own wounded energies. At least he hadn’t hurt him.
“Meridians are like blood vessels for qi,” Shen Yuan said, in the tone he always used when he was quoting from a book. “Maybe not taking care of your actual blood vessels messes them up.”
“A treatise that I am sure you could have Mu Qingfang lecture you on for hours if given the opportunity,” Shen Qingqiu suggested.
It had the intended effect of making Yuan laugh. Lightly, still tense, but there.
***
Shen Yuan’s week of night terrors had finally abated, which was good, but also meant that Shen Qingqiu had been running on no sleep and was even less likely to sleep without his brother nearby. It was difficult to keep his temper as it was, but he at least needed to keep it long enough that the Qing Jing Peak Leader stepped down.
Contrary to what his current location’s usual use would imply, Shen Qingqiu rarely lusted after anything. The first night’s sleep he would have in the Bamboo House, alone (with Yuan-di in the aft room) was the only thing he’d truly yearned for in that sense.
It was rather pathetic if he let himself think on it, but he was at the Warm Red Pavilion to not think of it or anything else.
“Xiuzhe seems tense,” Zhan Zhi said. “Let this one take down your hair.”
Shen Qingqiu waved his hand imperiously. Now that he found himself in a place where he was able to sleep, he could barely function to do so. And Zhi-jie’s interest in his hair had helped him learn to better care for it. A gentlemen cultivator had an impeccable appearance. It was easier to pretend he couldn’t hear the little jabs about his lacking cultivation skills when he was surrounded by the shallow fripperies of privilege.
Now that they had a Cang Qiong Mountain Sect Lord, it had to be soon that the Qing Jing Peak Lord would follow and step down soon.
That thought and the feeing of Zhan Zhi’s fingers scratching at his skull relaxed him somewhat.
“Mm, better,” she said, then she tutted, losing formality, “You should stop making your ji so tight.”
“I haven’t quite mastered the cultivation technique that keeps it in place otherwise,” Shen Qingqiu said, dryly enough that it took her a moment to realize he was joking. The soft smack on his shoulder as she caught up made him chuckle.
“Awful man,” she said fondly, as she continued running her fingers through his hair. “Dan-jie wants to play you the pipa. I told her later. You look tired.”
Were he less tired, he might make a joke about how he thought paying for her company meant she was supposed to placate his ego. The smell of incense, the soft background noise of the rest of the brothel’s thick walls, and Zhan Zhi’s soft gossip about the other jiejies’ troubles, made it simple for him to finally rest.
His disgust at his own failings to need all that fussing from a woman would rest as well, at least until tomorrow.
***
Shen Qingqiu had not had even a full week to calm his seething temper from being lectured to death for daring to go to a brothel nowhere near the vicinity of the mountain. The courtesans there didn’t care he was a cultivator, but the idiots who tried to catch him and caused a scene were another matter. He would have to wait months before frequenting that establishment again, because of the apparent righteousness of Liu Qingge confronting him for Shen Qingqiu’s dishonor against the sect. Technically he was complaining about Shen Qingqiu beating his idiot Bai Zhan shidi for doing as much, but it boiled down to the same thing.
Maybe if the man didn’t scream virgin with every stupid step, he’d leave Shen Qingqiu alone now and again. Either way it wasn’t any of his business and it certainly wasn’t any of Yue Qingyuan’s business and yet here he was again waiting to be lectured by him on it.
Yue Qingyuan had tea out. From the smell of it, it was a blend Shen Qingqiu particularly liked. He gestured for him to take a seat.
Shen Qingqiu did, because like this invitation it was from the Sect Leader and he understood the base level of playing nice. He refused the tea. Shen Qingqiu crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow, fine with being unrefined for the moment because this was a waste of both their time.
Yue Qingyuan hemmed around the subject, dithering with the tea, before finally coming to his point about how Shen Qingqiu shouldn’t sink to petty revenge for the idiots that had been attempting to ambush him at the Warm Red Pavilion.
It took Shen Qingqiu a long moment to realize what he was being accused of regarding a few Bai Zhan morons who hadn’t been able to achieve their ambush on him. “Someone poisoned them?”
Yue Qingyuan looked at him uneasily. “They have… rashes in inappropriate places.”
“Maybe they visited the brothel,” Shen Qingqiu said, deciding he would have tea after all. He might as well if he was going to be stuck here getting accused of things he didn’t do. At least now he could enjoy the schadenfreude of hearing about whatever those idiots had rolled themselves into.
The blush rising high on Yue Qingyuan’s cheeks was satisfying. The tea was good as well.
“There are other issues that require… the specific disciples affected were the ones who—were found to be—you didn’t need to…” The Sect Leader winced and then frowned. “It was being handled.”
“What exactly are you accusing me of?” Shen Qingqiu asked, taking a larger sip than was necessary before his stomach soured from this conversation. The tea was annoyingly good.
Yue Qingyuan sighed. “Qingqiu, the entire portion of Red-Itch Fennel is missing from the Xian Shu Peak gardens.”
“And?” Shen Qingqiu had to recall what exactly that herb did. It wasn’t poisonous, but he was fairly certain the rash was irritating and hard to treat, which was why Qi Qingqi was growing it. What she was going to use it for, he had no idea—but it made him feel better about taking Yuan’s advice about being ‘nicer’ to her. She was a bitch he would never trust, but it was going to be useful to have her blade dulled against him once he was Peak Lord.
Yue Qingyuan stared at him for a moment. “It was in their undergarments.”
A picture was forming in Shen Qingqiu’s mind and he was torn between laughing and throwing his tea at the man. “Why would I be anywhere near their—” A small laugh did escape as he realized where those rashes would have ended up. The only way to accomplish that would be to seduce them, sneak into the dormitories, or put it in their laundry.
Shen Qingqiu stood and put the rest of the tea down. “Can I assume Zhangmen-shixiong has no proof of these claims other than itchy particulars?”
Yue Qingyuan frowned. “How else woul—”
“Believe me,” Shen Qingqiu said, “I would have put something much harsher had I had the idea and I would have been better about not getting caught. Either way, I think that’s enough baseless accusations. You’ve filled your quota for the year.”
He turned, ignoring whatever half muddled apology he might get once the Sect Leader realized what an ass he was being. It was at least less frustrating than their interactions where he tried to be nice.
Shen Qingqiu waited until he’d gotten a good distance and then did indulge in another laugh.
He had to steel his face as he made his way to what was now considered home. The dormitories were empty at this hour, but he found Shen Yuan at one of the smaller pavilions where he preferred to read during nicer weather. His younger brother had his elbow on a table and was leaning his head against his hand as he idly flipped through a book.
“Red-Itch Fennel?” Shen Qingqiu asked.
“This one has no idea what Jiu-ge is speaking of,” Shen Yuan said, flipping another page.
“Yuan,” Shen Qingqiu said, in a tone.
Shen Yuan closed the book, sat up properly and folded his hands in his lap before looking up at Shen Qingqiu. “How’d you find out?”
“A meeting with the Sect Lord,” he said, pursing his lips.
Shen Yuan’s eyes slowly widened. “He thought you put itch herbs in their underwear?”
Shen Qingqiu barely swallowed another laugh. He made a cursory check to ensure they were still in the privacy of the thicker bamboo groves. “How did you accomplish that?”
Shen Yuan shrugged, still frowning in a way that seemed like he might put ‘itch herbs’ in Yue Qingyuan’s undergarments as well. At the moment Shen Qingqiu had no urge to compel him to resist, but would likely have to step in before the fool got himself caught.
“They don’t do their own laundry,” Shen Yuan said. “They make the attendants or newer juniors do it. The new juniors like me more than them.”
Shen Yuan was far better (and more interested) in forming friendships across the peaks, though it seemed a strange way to use it. Ambition was never a sin one could throw at Yuan-di’s feet.
Shen Qingqiu tapped his fingers against his thigh, calculating. “Am I going to have to worry about an itchy Liu Qingge storming up the peak?”
Shen Yuan shook his head and frowned again. “No, he does his own laundry.”
“Good,” Shen Qingqiu said, in mild relief. He didn’t want to deal with the headache. “He probably punches it clean on the riverside.”
Shen Yuan laughed and then his serious expression returned. “You’re not really in trouble right? I can talk to—”
“You’ve done quite enough,” Shen Qingqiu said, cutting him off. The last thing he needed was a commentary on his ‘bad influence’ on Shen Yuan. He also was more than a little irritated (and not surprised) that the means by which the incident occurred meant no one had been ‘keeping it quiet’ as he’d foolishly been assured. “You aren’t bothered by the things you heard?”
“Of course I am,” Shen Yuan said, “they were being awful! That’s why I also dug up the Soothing-Ocean Aloe from the Qian Cao Peak garden. It’ll be at least a week until the itching wears off.”
The cruelty of his little brother was unnervingly soft. “About me,” Shen Qingqiu clarified.
Shen Yuan of all things, rolled his eyes. “Your cultivation methods don’t require celibacy.”
“That would be your only objection?” Shen Qingqiu asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“It’s not my place to have an objection on your personal life,” Shen Yuan said, tartly. He was still too young to carry the sharpness that tone needed. He was too young to really know what the rumors might have meant. Except…
Shen Yuan was older than Shen Jiu was when he first started attracting interest. Yuan-di had always had softer features, which were easier to dissuade most that he was too young. And Shen Jiu had worked very hard to protect him from that particular indignity.
“You do know specifically what people tend to do in those places, don’t you?”
His brother’s face turned red and he pulled his book in front of his face to hide it. “Yes—I’m not asking for details!”
Based on his embarrassment, Shen Qingqiu could breathe easy. He still had a few more years then before he had to deal with Shen Yuan requiring that knowledge for his own interest. Knowing Yuan, Shen Qingqiu could throw a book at him and be done with it.
He put a hand on Shen Yuan’s head. “Don’t do anything like that again.”
“I wouldn’t use the same trick twice,” Shen Yuan said, recovering himself.
A better person would insist that Shen Yuan stay out of trouble and not launch nefarious plans in his defense, but Shen Qingqiu was only relieved that his brother still wanted to defend him.
He’d never been a good person anyway
***
Shen Yuan tried to attend the Cang Qiong Mountain Sect trials for new disciples ever since Shen Qingqiu had become a peak lord. For some reason, this year he was particularly invested. There were no real candidates of interest and while applicant levels were lower over the past few cycles, Shen Qingqiu had no interest in lowering standards merely to get more disciples.
Shen Yuan seemed very thoughtful afterwards.
“Did Yuan also want a new shidi or shimei?” Shen Qingqiu asked as they headed back to the peak. Ning Yingying had asked for one, so he had at least considered it. “I would’ve thought you had enough ducklings following you.”
Shen Yuan blinked and shook his head. “No… I just, I thought there’d be more interesting candidates.”
“Your optimism is your greatest downfall,” Shen Qingiqu said, morosely.
Shen Yuan made a vague attempt at smiling at that. He seemed distracted and it bothered Shen Qingqiu not to know exactly why.
“Maybe next year,” Shen Yuan finally said, with a purposeful nod.
Shen Qingqiu did not have the same level of optimism for newer candidates based on the pittance that was provided for this year’s trials.
***
Shen Qingqiu had never liked Liu Qingge. Loathed would be a more accurate term. He hadn’t particularly wanted him dead (most of the time), just maybe off somewhere punching rocks where Shen Qingqiu would never have to interact with him again. He’d threatened it, the few times Yuan came home with bruises and broken bones from what should’ve been a simple training session. He’d meant it then too. But he’d never actually given the time or thought to doing it.
Then the idiot had gone into a qi deviation so terrible that nothing Shen Qingqiu could do at that point would have helped. The only conceivable ‘good’ option was to let the man kill him.
He’d been burdened with answering the same questions over and over again while Mu Qingfang continued to do things over the man’s body that pronounced Liu Qingge still dead. Shen Qingqiu’s irritation over it hadn’t helped him answer the tenth time as calmly. He never should have tried to help the idiot. He should have immediately left the caves and let the bastard bleed to death without stabbing Shen Qingqiu too.
Yue Qingyuan, dripping in an endless malaise of guilt and debt instead of the indifference Shen Qingqiu would prefer at this point came to him. At first, Shen Qingqiu thought the man might offer him comfort. Shen Qingqiu had even allowed him to check on his own wounds, mostly out of being too exhausted to fight him on it.
Then Yue Qingyuan said a few things that had shuffled some of the noisier Qiong Ding Peak disciples away and asked Shen Qingqiu, quietly, meekly if he’d done it. It was infuriating how angry that made Shen Qingqiu, because of all things he’d been fucking surprised.
He’d snatched his arm away from the Sect Leader and took off, refusing to divert to Qian Cao Peak, no matter how much his ribs and other injuries hurt. It wasn’t as if he could answer the questions any differently and if the Sect Leader thought him capable of it, no one else was going to argue. It was another dark mark on his already blackened reputation. There was no point in defending himself.
Shen Qingqiu's anger rode with him all the way back to his own peak, but it had drained into exhaustion by the time he reached the Bamboo House’s door. There’d been enough time that the rumors and news would have filtered back by now and Shen Yuan was too good at catching gossip related to him to avoid it.
His little brother had also liked Liu Qingge.
It took Shen Jiu far too long to steel himself to face his brother. Shen Yuan knew what he was capable of—and he’d likely believe him if he told him the truth, or he’d feel compelled to his loyalty to pretend he believed him.
When Shen Jiu finally entered the house, Shen Yuan went to him immediately. The look on his face was blank, assessing—Shen Jiu waited for the same questions.
“Are you bleeding?” Shen Yuan asked.
Shen Jiu blinked. “What?” He then looked down and realized how much of Liu Qingge’s blood was still on his clothes. He’d… stormed onto the peak looking like that. A faint hint of manic laughter threatened to overtake him as he thought of how much more terrified his disciples would be of him now.
“Jiu-ge, are you injured?” Shen Yuan asked, frowning.
“Did you not…” Shen Jiu trailed off.
Shen Yuan huffed in frustration and reached his hand out, much the same way that Yue Qingyuan had done, but with less hesitance and a clumsier grasp. He frowned, concentration wrinkling his brow as he sent tenuous threads of qi through Shen Jiu, checking for injures. Then he nodded and took Shen Jiu to one of the main room chairs.
“Sit. I’ll get you a bath.”
Shen Jiu sat, listening to his brother mutter under his breath as he started to draw water for the tub. He listened to the normal sounds of the process, until finally Yuan came out and drew him up as if he were in shock and took him to the privacy screen.
“I’ll make some tea,” he said and left him there.
If Shen Jiu were not covered in another man’s blood he might have stood there longer, but the hot water from the bath and scrubbing his skin raw was more enticing than catatonia. He likely looked far more disheveled than normal as he came out with damp hair and clean robes. Shen Yuan was sitting patiently at the dinner table, a tea service set out. The tea sent puffs of steam into the air as Shen Yuan poured it for them.
Shen Jiu sat carefully at the table and tried to read his brother’s face. “Are you all right?”
Shen Yuan frowned and held the teacup in his hand. “I will be, if you drink your tea.”
The tea was… tasteless at the moment, as Shen Jiu waited for questions, but none came. Yuan-di was quiet and his mood was low, but he wasn’t directing any of that towards Shen Jiu.
He had always loved and tried to protect his brother, but it was at that very moment Shen Jiu determined he would burn the entire world down for him.
***
An Ding Peak’s newest disciple was strange.
Shen Qingqiu barely registered the boy at first, but he kept flitting around Qing Jing Peak and following Shen Yuan like a duckling. That in itself wasn’t uncommon. Over the years Shen Yuan had naturally picked up some of the more irritating parts of being a teacher. His gentle nature tended to be taken advantage of, but Shen Qingqiu didn’t mind overlooking it so he didn’t have to deal with the incessant whining that too many disciples (who were usually from affluent backgrounds) felt owed to them.
He wasn’t entirely sure at first why Luo Binghe appeared strange to him, but the feeling nagged. It got to the point where he made no rush to get up after a Peak Lord meeting. The opportunity to tie him up with useless conversation was too much of a lure for Yue Qingyuan to resist, of course.
Shen Qingqiu cut him off before he could get into whatever small talk diatribe he was angling at, in lieu of an actual conversation. “How did An Ding Peak get their latest disciple? We haven’t had trials recently.”
Yue Qingyuan blinked, processing the simple question and likely cataloging it in his mind with a hundred other meanings. “I believe the Peak Lord had some connection with his master who was from a northern sect. Why? Has their been an issue?”
“No,” Shen Qingqiu said and realized what was bothering him about Luo Binghe.
Someone that age should not haven been as far ahead in cultivation as he was, especially with the minimal training provided by a rogue cultivator and later buoyed by An Ding. If anyone would know that, it was Shen Qingqiu.
He debated bringing it up to Yuan, but his brother was unfortunately enamored with his latest duckling and would likely ignore any warning. Still…
Their friendship seemed harmless enough and better yet also seemed to still the restlessness that Shen Yuan had been feeling lately. Shen Qingqiu knew he couldn’t lock him on the peak, but every time his brother left for a mission, Shen Qingqiu would remember how it had felt coming back to his small body, not moving, and soaked in his own blood.
Shen Qingqiu consigned himself to viewing Luo Binghe as a stray puppy that Shen Yuan kept feeding.
***
Luo Binghe grew up. There was no puppy or duckling in the height and breadth he’d gained compared to Yuan’s frame… and he was still growing.
And Luo Binghe’s interest was achingly clear. Shen Qingqiu tried not to compare but that possessive infatuation in his eyes was too familiar. Qiu Jianluo had the same look.
It was difficult to separate the situations. Shen Yuan was more than of age and even if he was completely oblivious to it, had garnered plenty of interest. Luo Binghe was not a typical An Ding Peak disciple. The boy had trained with the brutes on Bai Zhan and several other peaks and his physical presence was enough to discourage other suitors.
Qiu Jianluo never wanted anyone else to touch his things either.
Shen Qingqiu watched and observed them whenever possible. He took careful care to listen to the details of the missions that Luo Binghe always seemed to be on when Shen Yuan took one. Shen Qingqiu had not been observant enough. He should have found a way to root out the rot before it got to his brother—instead of being weakened by the ease Shen Yuan had now.
Shen Yuan had always been an accomplished cultivator and student, but he had become more confident and capable. There were less grips of terror when he went on night hunts. Shen Qingqiu was coming to terms with the idea that his little brother was old enough to occasionally protect himself.
On more than one occasion the beast had protected him and Shen Qingqiu had stupidly marked that in his favor.
But being a stronger cultivator did not protect Shen Yuan from his weakest point—his trust in things that would harm him. It had been Shen Qingqiu’s duty to protect him from that and seeing the fragments of bone hanging off his little brother’s skull he knew he had irrecoverably failed.
Once he was sure that Shen Yuan would live, Shen Qingqiu went about fixing his own mistakes. He would banish that beast from the sect or he would bury him.
Shen Qingqiu had grown too used to the way Yue Qingyuan would fold, out of some disgusting urge to cower from his own guilt as if anything could ever make up for it. He was unprepared to find resistance when he approached the Sect Leader about exterminating the vermin from the sect.
“And why not?” Shen Qingqiu asked, feeling the tremulous control he’d been holding on his mood shake at its edges. “Luo Binghe almost murdering a disciple is not enough to grant the minimal punitive damage of removing him from the Sect?”
Yue Qingyuan did not even have the courage to look at him directly in the eye. “Yuan-shizhi has said it was an accident.”
“Well, he’s a fucking liar,” Shen Qingqiu snapped, harshly enough that Yue Qingyuan snapped his head up to regard him finally. The nerve. The fucking nerve of Yue Qingyuan of—Yue Qi of all people. “Yuan-di has protected worse. His word in this isn’t enough to be trusted and I have already made my points about the suspect nature of Luo Binghe’s discipleship at An Ding.”
A concern, he was certain Yue Qingyuan had never taken the proper initiative to look into himself.
“He insists it is an accident,” Yue Qingyuan said, quietly. “I know your concern must—”
The flinch Yue Qingyuan gave as Shen Qingqiu slammed his hand onto his desk was at least satisfying. Few things were. “You don't know anything. You weren’t there. That man… that cultivator should never have even had the chance to kill you, because he’d already tried to kill Yuan.”
The furrow on Yue Qingyuan’s brow parroted the line of his mouth. “Xia-”
“Don’t,” Shen Qingqiu growled.
The smallest hint of frustration settled on Yue Qingyuan’s face before it placidly disappeared. “I do not understand how this relates.”
Shen Jiu had lived with many painful memories, but none quite as vivid as the limp lifeless body of his brother—who he’d seen only hours earlier smiling at a some rodent that was burrowing into the roots beneath a tree.
And he’d lived with and learned from the person who had tried to rip the only light out of Shen Jiu’s grasp for years after.
“If my brother would protect a rancid man, such as Wu Yanzi,” Shen Qingqiu said, knowing that wasn’t the rancid man Yuan had been trying to protect with that lie, “what do you think he’d say for Luo Binghe?”
There was silence, there was always silence. Shen Qingqiu could wait in front of Yue Qingyuan for months with silence if there was an answer he needed to get from the man.
“I… will consider it,” Yue Qingyuan said, “however, what you have provided does not appear to be strong enough to conflict with both disciples’ accounts.”
“Useless,” Shen Qingqiu hissed, because that was all he had left for him, and stormed out.
***
“This not talking to me thing is really mature,” Shen Yuan said, specifically after taking a bite of his rice so that his mouth was partially full. His brother’s methods may have been toothless, but they were annoyingly effective.
Shen Qingqiu hardly saw what there was to talk about. He hadn’t touched his plate and had no plans to. He was suspicious that Shen Yuan had not gotten it from the kitchen.
Shen Yuan ate more of his food for a moment, muttering incoherently between bites. Finally, he pulled the plate that Shen Qingqiu had spitefully shoved aside and emptied its contents onto his own plate. “Not going to waste food,” he said, more audibly, but still in an undertone of discontent.
If it would not have seemed like Shen Qingqiu was giving in, he would have left the table while the sounds of Shen Yuan’s scraping and chewing were the only sensory input.
Finally, with a revolting movement to wipe his mouth with his sleeve purely to piss Shen Qingqiu off, Shen Yuan stacked his plates and looked at him directly. “Jiu-ge.”
Shen Qingqiu only responded by pulling his fan out and wafting cooler air in his own direction.
“Everything is healing really well,” Shen Yuan said. “Which of course you know, because you somehow get around medical privacy and harass Mu-shishu into spilling all my information.”
It was hardly harassing. Mu Qingfang did not believe Shen Yuan capable of following medical directives either. It was a small concession that at least one of Shen Qingqiu’s martial brothers had Shen Yuan’s best interests in mind.
Shen Yuan sighed and fidgeted in his seat. He stared down at the table, before giving in to their standoff and rising. He didn’t turn immediately and merely looked somewhere near Shen Qingqiu’s direction. “I really like Binghe,” Shen Yuan said, softly. “I know you don’t forgive easily and I fucked up before, but I was a kid and I was terrified he might hurt you if I said anything. The thing with Binghe isn’t the same.”
Shen Yuan turned then without waiting for a response and walked towards his room. Shen Qingqiu watched him until the door closed.
Shen Qingqiu did not forgive easily—he did not forgive at all. It was pointless.
There was a single exception. He closed his fan and ran his thumb against the edge of it. Shen Yuan had picked this one up during an excursion to look at some hideous creature he wouldn’t shut up about—it was of fair quality but mostly Shen Qingqiu liked it because the foliage design extended from the fabric to the wood.
Shen Qingqiu could attempt to forgive at least Shen Yuan for what had transpired. He could do no more.
Unfortunately he did not think the beast was going anywhere anytime soon.
***
Shen Qingqiu’s terror at his brother running straight into the midst of the demonic outbreak of the Immortal Alliance Conference was barely soothed as Shen Yuan finally made his way back. Shen Qingqiu’s leg had been set and the only reason he had yet to hobble out on it was he was certain that Mu Qingfang had given him some sort of paralytic. He revised his like of the man.
The angry reproach curling up Shen Qingqiu’s throat died as he saw Shen Yuan shuffle towards him. The tented infirmary was crowded and loud from the bustling activity, but everything narrowed down to a singular point.
There were tear tracks staining the sides of Shen Yuan’s face. Shen Qingqiu and not seen his brother cry since the Qiu Estate burned that out of them. In Shen Yuan’s hands was part of his outer robes, clutched together as a makeshift bag, a sword hilt at the top, his grip on it was so tight that his knuckles turned white.
Shen Qingqiu did not ask any questions. He merely allowed Shen Yuan to shove his face into his shoulder and sob, like he was very small again.
He should’ve known the beast would find a way to hurt his brother after all.