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Shen Qingqiu is bitterly tolerating some insufferable event held at another sect, biting his tongue more often than not in order to hold back uncivil responses to insipid questions and comments. The Shimmering Waterfall Sect is a beautiful, hidden grotto, carved straight into the rock behind a massive waterfall. The entire western wall is merely a giant hole that opens up onto a curtain of falling water through which the horizon can be seen, giving an admirable view of the sunset. The rushing water is even creating a rainbow effect, which people keep complimenting over and over again.
Shen Qingqiu, for his part, finds it all to be overly damp and noisy. It might be charming for a shichen, but what sort of person could actually live in such a wretched place? The cultivators here are also obsequious and grating, far too eager to cozy up to Cang Qiong and get a taste of their largesse. Certainly, there is no doubt of what Cang Qiong could provide to an ally, but what can the Shimmering Waterfall Sect provide them? Shen Qingqiu is dubious. So far, the only thing of worth he has seen is a pretty prospect. He could paint that himself in an afternoon and then there would be nothing else left to trade for.
At least Yue Qingyuan has been mostly focusing on his own diplomatic duties here, rather than using the opportunity to pester him with questions about his welfare or idiotic observations about the weather. It’s bad enough when he acts like that at their own sect, but in front of outsiders is more than Shen Qingqiu can stomach. In fact, Shen Qingqiu has entirely lost sight of him for about a quarter shichen now; good. Perhaps he’s in some backroom, seriously discussing trade agreements with the sect leader here. The sooner this is over with, the sooner they can go home. Shen Qingqiu hadn’t even particularly wanted to come, especially with Yue Qingyuan as company, but it has been too long since he’s left the mountain.
“Um… Shen-shishu?” a Qiong Ding disciple asks Shen Qingqiu meekly, interrupting his conversation with a man who is quite determinedly extolling Shen Qingqiu’s own virtues back at him. “Shizun wanted to have a word with you.”
The words instantly grate against his nerves. For the man to not even seek him out himself, but to send one of his disciples to fetch Shen Qingqiu like a requested object? He bristles, a rejection resting at the very tip of his tongue.
But they’re surrounded by outsiders, every cultivator within hearing range paying keen attention to every little one of Shen Qingqiu’s words or gestures. If he were to openly snub his own sect leader right now, in front of all of these people, they’d cluck their tongues and shake their heads at the Qing Jing Peak Lord’s shameful bad manners and lack of filial feeling. His irritation deepens, growing into true anger. That Yue Qingyuan really knows how to pick his moments.
“I see,” he says coolly, biting back all of that simmering rage. “You must excuse me, a shidi is always at his shixiong’s beck and call.”
“Of course, of course!” the man that Shen Qingqiu has been conversing with quickly agrees. His eyes are bright with curiosity, but he isn’t crass enough to pry for details. “Please, do not let this one detain Lord Shen.”
Shen Qingqiu leaves without another word, sweeping after the Qiong Ding disciple. What does Yue Qingyuan want with him now, anyways? If it is a matter of anything but the utmost urgency, then he’ll cut him to the quick in retaliation for wasting his time and humiliating him like that, beckoning him over like a dog to his side. Shen Qingqiu is so distracted working himself up into a foul mood that it takes him by surprise when the Qiong Ding disciple, after a quick glance around to make sure that no one is directly looking at them, opens a small and overlooked door and ducks inside.
“Shishu, please,” she hisses at him. “Please hurry!”
Her urgency is like a glass of cold water down his spine. He quickly follows her, the door falling shut behind him. They’re in what appears to be a small storage room for the kitchens, some little distance from the party, plates and bowls stacked all around them. Yue Qingyuan is present, crumpled onto the floor like a broken doll.
Shen Qingqiu stares blankly, frozen to the spot.
“I don’t know what happened,” the disciple says tearfully; she sounds distraught, her tense smile faded away now that they’re out of the crowd. “He was fine one moment, but then--!”
“Call for a doctor, you fool,” Shen Qingqiu spits, and finds it within himself to move forwards--
“Qingqiu?” Yue Qingyuan calls, sitting up from the floor. He looks around himself blankly, and when his gaze finds Shen Qingqiu his entire countenance lights up with a bright smile. “You’re here!”
Shen Qingqiu stops in his tracks again, shocked once more. He’s fine? That smile - he can’t remember the last time he saw Yue Qingyuan so exuberantly happy--
“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” the disciple says quietly.
“Qingqiu, Qingqiu-shidi,” Yue Qingyuan says, and pushes himself up off the floor - but his arm fails him, and he falls back down onto the floor. He does it again, and slips once more. Furrowing his brow with consternation, he moves slower and more deliberately, pushing himself upwards with both hands. “I want-- it’s so good to see you, hello, hi. You’re very beautiful today.”
Shen Qingqiu takes a moment to take the scene in. Yue Qingyuan's eyes are glazed over and hazy, seeming to struggle to focus on things. His movements are broad and sloppy, uncharacteristically clumsy. When he speaks, even his voice stumbles over itself, not at all deliberate and measured in the way it normally is. His guan is a little crooked, and the collar of his robe is askew as if it’s been haphazardly pulled on.
“He’s drunk?” Shen Qingqiu asks with incredulous disgust.
“I don’t know how!” the disciple cries. “Shizun barely had anything to drink tonight, I’m sure of it. He seemed normal, but then suddenly he started losing his balance and saying odd things. I led him here so he wouldn’t make a scene. Shishu, what should we do?”
Well, they most certainly cannot let these outsiders see their sect leader drunk as a skunk. Cang Qiong would be made a laughingstock by some pathetic, no-name sect that’s barely climbed its way up from complete and utter irrelevance. Shen Qingqiu won’t tolerate it.
“Leave,” Shen Qingqiu says roughly. “Go tell Shang Qinghua that it’s up to him to lead any discussion about trade agreements, and that his shixiongs are currently occupied discussing private matters. It is good that you thought to come and find me.”
Anyone paying attention will overhear this message and it will quickly become common knowledge, but inciting their baseless speculation is a price that Shen Qingqiu will pay. He can’t have people searching for Yue Qingyuan - having it be known that he’s occupied will hopefully keep people from opening random doors. A proper excuse will have to be manufactured later.
“Yes, Shishu!” the disciple says, snapping off a salute. She turns to leave, and then hesitates for just a moment. “... Shizun really did ask for you, though.”
With that, she leaves. Shen Qingqiu has no time to think about her parting words, quickly moving to activate a quick sealing talisman against the door to give them a little additional safety. Then, bracing himself, he turns to look at Yue Qingyuan.
In the time that he’s been turned around, the man has successfully stood up and found his balance. He straightens up-- wobbles, throwing his arms out to the sides to steady himself. He blinks rapidly, then seems to focus very intently on holding himself in an upright and respectable way as he turns towards Shen Qingqiu. It is almost comical, watching Yue Qingyuan have to struggle so much in order to find the gravitas and grace that usually comes to him so effortlessly. Shen Qingqiu certainly isn’t above feeling a flicker of spiteful satisfaction at his struggles.
“Hello,” Yue Qingyuan says again, as if even coming up with that one word was a great effort for him. He beams at Shen Qingqiu triumphantly. “You look-- Shidi is so, so…”
“What have you let these ingrates drug you with?” Shen Qingqiu snaps, opening his fan with a flick of his wrist. He looks up and down at Yue Qingyuan with contempt. The man isn’t pale, nor bleeding from any of his apertures - his symptoms really are indistinguishable from that of a mere drunkard’s. “A fine reception indeed, for them to slip something into our Zhangmen’s drink to make an utter fool of him. We are not giving these people so much as a single grain of rice.”
What is the logic, really? Do they think that Cang Qiong’s bargaining position would be weakened by a loss of face? Or perhaps some other rival sect has handsomely bribed them in order to help humiliate Cang Qiong by making a spectacle out of Yue Qingyuan.
Yue Qingyuan blinks foolishly, as if only half able to follow his words. He sways slightly, then smiles at Shen Qingqiu again, a little more tentatively this time.
“It’s good to see you,” he says.
“You already said that,” Shen Qingqiu snaps, and then, “sit down before you fall and crack open your empty skull. Because of your foolish, trusting nature you’ve let this sort of thing happen to you, and now I have to make sure that you don’t humiliate all of us.”
It would have been better if Mu Qingfang were here with them, rather than that useless Shang Qinghua. If Yue Qingyuan will insist on letting himself be drugged or poisoned then he should travel everywhere with a physician, rather than forcing Shen Qingqiu to clean up his messes for him.
“I’m-- I’m sorry to trouble Qingqiu,” Yue Qingyuan says, his expression falling pitifully. He looks ridiculously crestfallen at just that little bit of scolding, wilting at once. It’s a little startling - usually, Yue Qingyuan either only stubbornly holds onto his friendly attitude in the face of all hostility, or he’ll act gently disapproving and disappointed in Shen Qingqiu’s general existence and every choice he’s ever made.
Additionally, he even obediently folds himself back up, sitting down on the floor. He’s an irritatingly tall man, even standing a little above Shen Qingqiu’s height, so that when he’s sitting down like that at Shen Qingqiu’s feet the top of his head is still somewhere around Shen Qingqiu’s chest level. But still, he’s below him. Shen Qingqiu feels…
“... It was foolish of us to even come here in the first place,” Shen Qingqiu says, crossing his arms and tapping his closed fan. “This sect is beneath our notice; you could have sent some no-name diplomat from your peak and it would have been no better than they deserved. This happening to you at all is your own fault.”
Yue Qingyuan blinks up at him slowly, then nods. “You’re right. You’re right, it’s my fault… I deserve it…”
He’s clearly only taking in about every third word Shen Qingqiu says. Annoyance flares at his easy acquiescence - he despises it when Yue Qingyuan acts like Shen Qingqiu is some unreasonable, irrational creature to be indulged and pacified.
“I should just leave you here,” he sneers, sweeping down into a graceful half-kneel so he can get started on examining Yue Qingyuan himself - while he is no physician, he can at least help cycle someone’s qi. It should help flush the toxins of whatever this is out of Yue Qingyuan’s system faster, so they won’t be stuck here for quite so long. “What do I owe you? Nothing. It would serve you well for me to walk out and lock the door behind me. Perhaps once you’ve sobered up on your own you could--”
It is only an idle, spiteful fantasy. He cannot seriously risk leaving Yue Qingyuan alone like this; who knows what might happen. At the very best, mere humiliation for Cang Qiong. At the worst - it would be a mess. Shen Qingqiu isn’t interested in messes. He’s reaching out to take Yue Qingyuan’s wrist when the man first shudders and makes a raw noise in his throat.
“No, please,” Yue Qingyuan says, his eyes bright and-- and wet. As Shen Qingqiu watches in stunned horror, tears begin to slip down that familiar face that he has never once seen crumple up with tears before. It feels like watching a mountain weep. Yue Qingyuan reaches out and captures Shen Qingqiu’s hand, frozen in midair in the motion of reaching for him. Clutching onto him desperately, Yue Qingyuan says, “please, please don’t-- don’t leave me in here, please. Xiao-Jiu, I’ll do anything--”
That is enough to jolt Shen Qingqiu out of his daze. He can’t remember the last time he heard that name - was it at the Warm Red Pavilion, after that infuriating fight with Liu Qingge? Or a little later? Nonetheless, it is as unwelcome now as it had been then.
“Don’t call me that!” he snaps. He tries to snatch his hand back, but Yue Qingyuan clings on as if he’s dangling over a cliff’s edge.
“I know I deserve it,” Yue Qingyuan says, tears steadily slipping down his face. He isn’t sobbing nor leaking snot, something almost pitifully small and defeated about his tears, exhausted sorrow rather than distraught, violent emotion. “But please - please, will you stay with me? Or, or let’s leave together, please--”
Shen Qingqiu recoils from the idea of anyone else seeing Yue Qingyuan like this. They have no right--
“We’ll stay,” he says. He tries to wrench his hand out of Yue Qingyuan’s grip again, but it’s pointless. “Yue-zhangmen, you-- get ahold of yourself! I was only speaking idly, so stop making a fool of yourself. I won’t leave.”
“You’ll stay?” Yue Qingyuan asks with a pathetic hopefulness. “Really? Really, you’ll stay with me?”
“Yes, fine!” Shen Qingqiu snaps. “I said it, didn’t I? Stop asking and just-- shut up and let me examine you!”
Yue Qingyuan is more docile after that, letting Shen Qingqiu go. His hands immediately find Shen Qingqiu’s sleeve instead, however, grabbing on like a child clinging to their mother’s skirts. Shen Qingqiu decides not to notice it, instead taking Yue Qingyuan’s wrist and beginning to examine his qi. He does his best to ignore how relieved he is by Yue Qingyuan’s naked distress abating. He’s just not used to seeing him like that; it’s alarming, like seeing the very ceiling above you begin to crumble.
Yue Qingyuan’s qi is… more or less fine, Shen Qingqiu thinks. Again, he is no physician. It is clear from even a cursory examination that Yue Qingyuan’s cultivation path is very different from Shen Qingqiu’s, but that is only to be expected - all the peaks cultivate in their own way, guarding their ways greedily. His foundation is strong and solid, like a brick path laid by an expert tradesman - Shen Qingqiu feels his old, bitter resentment stir at just the feeling of it.
Lost in thought as he feels out Yue Qingyuan’s pathways, he is startled out of it once he feels a light pressure on his shoulder - Yue Qingyuan has sidled close enough to lean in and rest his head on Shen Qingqiu’s shoulder. He’s shocked silent for a moment, during which Yue Qingyuan turns his head slightly to the side, rubbing his face against fabric. With his wet, tear-damp face, he might as well be using Shen Qingqiu’s clothes as a handkerchief.
“‘M sorry,” he mumbles from his new hiding place. “Sorry, sorry that I got stuck here… Thank you for, for coming, for seeing me, even though I got stuck. I’ll get out soon, I will.”
“... Yue Qingyuan, where do you think you are?” Shen Qingqiu asks quietly. He’s making no sense; he must be disoriented.
“The caves,” Yue Qingyuan says with utter certainty.
“The Lingxi Caves?” Shen Qingqiu asks. What other caves are there, after all?
Yue Qingyuan nods into his shoulder. Shen Qingqiu’s mind buzzes, and without noticing he places a hand on the back of Yue Qingyuan’s neck, underneath the fall of his hair.
“You’re stuck?” he asks him, his voice gentler now - almost coaxing, as if luring an animal into a trap. “How did that happen?”
“I deserved it…” Yue Qingyuan says blearily, before pushing his face more firmly into the crook of Shen Qingqiu’s neck, like he wants to burrow in there. Frustrated, Shen Qingqiu pinches at his neck.
“Yue Qingyuan. How? Was it an accident?” When did this happen? Maybe it didn’t happen at all, maybe it’s just an invention of his fuddled mind… But Shen Qingqiu feels, with an irrational confidence, that this must be Yue Qingyuan confusing the past for the present.
Yue Qingyuan turns his head enough to the side that he can look up at Shen Qingqiu, his lashes damp and clumped together and his eyes a little red and half lidded with exhaustion. His expression is wondering.
“You’re… you’re very beautiful,” Yue Qingyuan says. “Today. Yes.”
Shen Qingqiu feels his cheeks unwillingly warm. Yue Qingyuan had said that earlier too, some silly, drunken nonsense, nothing to put stock in. He’s saying such ridiculous things, Yue Qingyuan won’t be able to even look him in the eye once he comes to his senses.
“Yue-zhangmen, focus--”
“You’re always beautiful,” Yue Qingyuan says, the words rushing out of him. “You’re the, the most beautiful person in the room, always. I miss, I missed you. Thank you for coming. I’m so sad when I don’t get to see you…”
Drunken nonsense. Nothing to take seriously. And yet--
“You must be sad quite often then,” Shen Qingqiu remarks, reaching for dryness and not quite finding it.
“Yes,” Yue Qingyuan says, and he closes his eyes, tilting his head back down. He almost looks like he intends to fall asleep like this, cuddled close to Shen Qingqiu. Why is he tolerating this? He should shove him onto the floor. “Yes, I’m-- I’m sad. Qingqiu, you… please stay.”
He seems so guileless like this, so uncontrolled. It’s harder to dismiss the things he says as attempts at coaxing or manipulation. He’s so pathetic and needy right now, Shen Qingqiu really…
“... How sad?” Shen Qingqiu finds himself asking.
“The most,” Yue Qingyuan says, his voice quiet and a little creaky from his tears, his eyes still closed.
“So sad that you want to die?”
“Yes.”
A little thrill travels up his spine. Shen Qingqiu is disgusted with himself for it, but that is an old, familiar feeling. He continues pressing down on the bruise.
“How does it make you feel when you see me?”
“Happy.”
“Liar.” Yue Qingyuan may smile at him occasionally out of obligation, but his expression in Shen Qingqiu’s presence is more often than not pinched with worry or disapproval. Shen Qingqiu brings him nothing but guilt and misery. “You hate me.”
“No?” Yue Qingyuan says, blinking his eyes open. He lifts his head slightly to look more properly at Shen Qingqiu, his brow furrowed with confusion. “No, I don’t-- never. Never ever.”
“I make you miserable.”
“No.”
“I’m shameful. A stain on your past, something to hide--”
“No!”
That was louder than Shen Qingqiu expected. He’s used to Yue Qingyuan always speaking calmly. Even when he’s angry, he’s nothing but firm. It makes him fall into silence without meaning to, and Yue Qingyuan presses his point.
“Xiao-- Qing, Qingqiu is the best, the most good thing in my life,” Yue Qingyuan says, stumbling over his words again in his urgency to get them out. “I’m just - I can’t be happy if Qingqiu isn’t happy. That’s all.”
“How unfortunate for you,” Shen Qingqiu says, “that I continue to insist on holding onto my grudges, refusing to absolve you of your sins. The guilt must gnaw on you like live rats.”
Yue Qingyuan frowns at him despondently. That’s more familiar, although the expression is more naked and childish than usual. He looks almost helpless.
“Qingqiu-shidi is wonderful,” Yue Qingyuan says simply. Normally the diplomat, his usual skills seem to have abandoned him. “Anything I can do to help, I want to do.”
And he presses a kiss to Shen Qingqiu’s lips. There is no forewarning, the act taken matter of factly, and Shen Qingqiu takes far too long to react. When he does, it is undignified and graceless. He splutters and recoils, his face burning, and he shoves at the other man’s chest.
“What do you think you’re doing--!?” he demands, his voice rising sharply.
But Yue Qingyuan refuses to let go of him, his arms like iron bands around Shen Qingqiu’s waist. He isn’t kissing him any longer, at least, instead only blinking at him foolishly like he doesn’t understand what he did wrong.
“You said you’d stay,” he says. “Right?”
“What does that have to do with-- let go of me, you swine. You’re drunk, everything you do and say is nonsense. I’m done with you!”
But Yue Qingyuan continues not to let go, instead pulling Shen Qingqiu in closer to bury his face in his shoulder again, as if pretending not to hear. Shen Qingqiu is furious, and spends quite some time insulting and threatening him until he calms down enough to trust himself to reach out and attempt to begin cycling Yue Qingyuan’s qi. If he’s going to be difficult like this, then Shen Qingqiu has no choice but to fix him.
It takes quite a long time, and it turns out that most of what Shen Qingqiu achieves is pushing Yue Qingyuan into a deep, drunken sleep, still clutching onto him even in his unconsciousness. Face still warm and his lips tingling, Shen Qingqiu can only imagine what this miserable sect will think happened between them if they’re seen slinking out of a storage room together after having gone missing for so long.
He is so preoccupied with this thought that he entirely forgets about the dropped thread of the caves. Until later, that is.