Chapter Text
He arrived in the world of Proud Immortal Demon Way confused and trembling like a newborn fawn. When he woke up after experiencing what could only have been death (damn that yogurt, he knew it looked suspicious), Shen Yuan immediately knew something was wrong.
The room he woke up in was definitely not his own, for starters. It was not the modern penthouse that his parents paid for. Instead, the room was all lacquered wood and intricately painted folding screens. Around the bed he woke up in, curtains draped delicately like those in ancient Chinese dramas. And there were, to his growing dismay, no electronics in sight.
And then a glowing blue screen appeared right in front of his face.
Shen Yuan screamed.
[Activation code: “Dumbfuck author, dumbfuck novel.” System activated.]
“What the fuck?”
[Greetings, User02! Welcome to the System. This System operates in line with the concept “YOU CAN YOU UP, NO CAN NO BB”; we hope to provide you with—]
“Uhm,” Shen Yuan worriedly poked the System when it seemed to glitch as it cut itself off out of nowhere. “Hello?”
[System recalibrating… Power source not detected. System going into hibernation mode.]
“What? What do you mean hibernation?” Shen Yuan tried to shake the flickering screen, but his hands just passed through. “You haven’t explained anything? Where the hell am I?!”
[User02 is given access to Sandbox mode. Sandbox mode initiated. Bound role: Qing Jing NPC. Confirmed. Initiating System hibernation.]
“Wait—!”
[System wishes User02 a pleasant experience! (ㅅ´ ˘ `)]
And with a blink, the blue screen of the System disappeared.
“System?” Shen Yuan tried calling out. Nothing happened. “Of course, I’d end up transmigrating just to get a defective System.” He groaned.
Now, what to do? The System fucked off to who knows where as soon as it came, but it had confirmed a few things for Shen Yuan. Mainly that he was in Qing Jing. And where was Qing Jing? In Proud Immortal Demon Way. Of course, he’d end up in PIDW. Because why the hell not, apparently?
Shen Yuan wanted to curse at something—preferably the System. Too bad it had disappeared before he could scream at it properly.
The only consolation, perhaps, was the fact that he was in the body of a no-name NPC. (His original body must already be dead. Shen Yuan tried not to think about it.)
· ─ ·𖥸· ─ ·
After some time spent just staring at nothing and coming to terms with the fact that he really had transmigrated, Shen Yuan took stock of himself.
He ran his hands through his long, dark hair, twirling the ends between his fingers, making them swish and sway. There was a bronze mirror in the corner of the room, and he saw his tinted reflection staring curiously back at him.
His new body, whether by coincidence or by design, held a remarkable likeness to his original body. It was like looking at himself in a wig. That is, if he wasn’t born with a shitty constitution and if he had flawless skin. He counted it as another small blessing that at least he wouldn’t be dealing with body dysmorphia on top of everything else.
Examining his body and being increasingly aware of the ball of light that could only be a developing golden core somewhere in his chest, Shen Yuan was beginning to delude himself into thinking this wasn’t so bad. At least he wasn’t Shen Qingqiu. Now that would have been an unmitigated disaster.
Ignoring the shitty plot and low IQ characters, the world of PIDW was a fascinating place. Perhaps Shen Yuan could focus on that aspect. The System had fucked off to the ether, so he could assume he wasn’t expected to do anything. Maybe that meant he was free to do whatever. (Was that what it meant by ‘Sandbox mode’?)
That thought sent a thrill through him. And if he thought of making life in Qing Jing a little bearable for a certain White Lotus, that fantasy was between him and god.
With a new sense of purpose and flimsy, barebones optimism, Shen Yuan pulled himself together.
He was wearing what looked to be under robes, so he began by searching the room for some presentable, everyday robes. He hoped his knowledge of xianxia held up in terms of PIDW customs. He didn’t really want to go around scandalizing the traditional people of Cang Qiong. They for sure wouldn’t understand modern sensibilities like shorts and graphic T-shirts.
By the time he heard a knock on his door, Shen Yuan was more or less appropriately dressed. He was trying to do something with his hair for about an hour (or half a shichen, as he ought to say now), staring helplessly at the combs and hair ornaments he had only seen in museums and period dramas. The knock gave him an excuse to let the ornaments fall back into the drawer where he found them. His hair would have to stay down for now.
He hesitated as he approached the door.
“System?” He tried calling out once more. But still, no floating blue screen appeared.
Guess there’s nothing for it.
He opened the door. For a moment, he could do nothing but be mesmerized by the breathtaking view.
Everything was so green, and beyond that was the bright blue of the sky on the horizon. The crisp, fresh air was so different from the polluted streets of Beijing. The wind swept through the bamboo, and somewhere nearby was the gentle sound of a stream flowing. It made his circumstances more real, somehow. He found himself thinking: Ah. I really have transmigrated.
The sound of a throat clearing brought him back. He looked down to see a young man wearing the same Qing Jing green that Shen Yuan now wore, standing in front of the room he had woken up in.
The young man bowed when Shen Yuan met his eyes, cupping his fist in the other hand. It seemed to be a polite enough gesture. Shen Yuan wondered what standing the NPC, whose body he was in, had. He must have some standing for someone who looked like a disciple to be bowing to him. He internally cursed the System again for fucking off without explaining anything. ‘Bound role: Qing Jing NPC.’ His ass. The least it could do was tell him which NPC he was, but nooo. He was on his own, apparently.
“Master Shen. This disciple greets you.” Ah, so he was a disciple. “Shizun has instructed me to check on Master Shen’s health. He was asking if he should send for Mu-shishu.”
Shen Yuan’s eyes widened in ill-concealed panic at the mention of Shen Qingqiu. Well, there were a lot of facts he could deduce from those statements. Like the fact that he was still a Shen in this world (maybe he kept his name?), the fact that he was someone important enough to be called a master, and the fact that he was in a situation where calling the Jianghu’s best doctor could be a necessity. But the mention of Shen Qingqiu was the most pressing and frightening part of it all.
'Shizun has instructed me to check on Master Shen’s health.'
What the hell?! Shen Qingqiu—for there was no other Shizun the Qing Jing disciple could have been referring to—asking after someone?! Asking after him?!
Nowhere in the more than 1 million words of PIDW was there any mention of Shen Qingqiu showing an ounce of concern for anyone other than Ning Yingying. This was extreme levels of OOC.
Please don’t tell him he was someone important to that scum villain. Well, they did share the same family name. But Shen was a common enough name. He prayed he was not related to the main antagonist of PIDW. He didn’t think he could handle that blaring death flag.
Maybe the disciple was just laying it on thick… He narrowed his eyes at the disciple who seemed to squirm at his silent scrutiny the longer it went on.
“Master Shen?” The disciple prompted when he was silent for a little too long.
Shen Yuan shook his head, trying to stop his catastrophizing. He’s barely been in this world for a shichen, and he was already about to lose it. The barebones optimism he just managed to scrape together was quickly failing him. But he had to keep his shit together long enough to come up with a plan.
And for now, the plan was to get as much information as he could.
So smiling, he addressed the disciple. “Please thank your Shizun for his concern. However, this master does not think calling Lord Mu will be necessary.”
The disciple seemed to hesitate before speaking. Shen Yuan waited patiently (after all, he had nowhere to go and nothing pressing to do). “This disciple understands. This disciple was also instructed that, in the event that Master Shen seems to be well enough, that is, to ask whether Master Shen could go back to his duties?”
Shen Yuan blinked. “Duties?”
· ─ ·𖥸· ─ ·
After some back and forth and a little walking, Shen Yuan found himself standing in the center of chaos disguised as a library.
Well, to be precise, he was only in front of the library, having been escorted here by the disciple whose name he had yet to find out. The young man had told him they were going to the library, so this must be it. Not like they could get in, anyway, with the situation being what it was.
“Terribly sorry, but what’s your name?” Shen Yuan asked, eyes still fixed on the mass of agitated, groaning bodies.
“It’s Wu Haocheng, Master Shen.” The disciple piped up.
“Ah, yes. Disciple Wu. What’s going on here exactly?”
“Well…That is, as I mentioned earlier, Master Shen’s duties have been, ah. Hm.”
Shen Yuan continued to stare even as Wu Haocheng the disciple started to fidget and stammer next to him. He couldn’t make sense of what he was looking at.
There were at least three dozen people—disciples from the looks of them—gathered in front of the closed library doors. Some were clutching papers as they muttered frantically to themselves. Some were clutching their heads instead as they curled into a ball, groaning like something was paining them. All of them had the look of harried, sleep-deprived college students before an exam. It was so incongruent with the peace and quiet of the Qing Jing that he’d seen so far that he briefly doubted his senses. There was nothing tranquil nor serene about this tableau of academic despair.
“No one has been able to access the library. There was an oversight, you see. It seems like no one remembered to provide backup in case Master Shen got, ahm, incapacitated. The library is only keyed into your qi. No one else can open it.” Wu Haocheng rambled as Shen Yuan continued to puzzle out his situation.
Well, that’s stupid.
“Not even your Shizun?” He asked.
“Ah, that’s…No.” Shen Yuan could almost see the embarrassed drooping of the disciple’s nonexistent tail.
Stupid indeed. But then again, what did he expect from PIDW and its low-IQ inhabitants.
If he understood this situation correctly, he seemed to be in charge of the library. So, a librarian?
Despite himself, Shen Yuan was excited at the prospect. He might have been a rich NEET in his original life, but he always thought being a librarian would be nice. It was one of those idle dreams, along with being a bookshop or cafe owner. Not that it really went anywhere past daydreams due to his poor health and lack of motivation in general.
One of the despairing bodies caught his eye mid-wail and stopped, eyes going wide with recognition, and then wild hope.
“Master Shen!” The girl exclaimed, making the others turn towards him as well.
“Master Shen! It’s him!”
“Finally!”
“The gods have not abandoned us after all!”
A chorus of relieved exclamations and cheers and hiccupped sobs followed. Shen Yuan tried not to show his discomfort so openly as he offered a placid smile. Slowly, he made his way through.
Thankfully, the disciples all eagerly stepped away from the path leading to the library’s doors when they saw him approaching. Soon enough, he was in front of the closed doors that had so distressed seemingly every young disciple on the peak.
What now, he thought. There wasn’t a keyhole. And even if there was, he didn’t have a key. Well, Wu Haocheng had said that his qi was keyed into the wards or something along those lines. Maybe he just had to…
He pushed at the doors. For a moment, he feared nothing would happen and he would embarrass himself in front of dozens of impressionable young disciples looking to him for help. But thankfully, there was a rush of energy travelling swiftly through his palms before the doors creaked open.
More cheers erupted from behind him. He barely stepped aside before frantic disciples swept past him into the library.
Shen Yuan suddenly felt very tired. Why was he so busy right after he woke up in this new world? Shouldn’t he at least get an adjustment period?
He watched with faint amusement as the disciples disappeared behind stacks and stacks of bookshelves, some already situating themselves at the tables with an armful of books. And then he finally registered the sight before him. Shen Yuan couldn’t help but gape, in awe of the sheer size of the library.
The library was not open, like he expected it to be, given that this was Qing Jing. He expected natural light spilling from wide windows, south-facing with good Feng Shui. He expected wooden beams and ancient Chinese architecture like those you see in the period dramas. Somehow, he even expected the sound of rustling bamboo to follow them here. But there were only the sounds of rustling paper instead.
The library was still reminiscent of ancient China, don’t get him wrong, but it reminded Shen Yuan more firmly of his university’s library. Perhaps a weird, anachronistic cross between ancient and modern design.
It had a solemn and dimly-lit atmosphere, the fixed sconces (was that electricity? That seemed too anachronistic even for Airplane) offering a warm yellowish glow to the space. The library was so expansive that he couldn’t see the end of it from where he was standing. The shelves—which were as tall as three men stacked together—seemed to go on endlessly until they disappeared into the dark. There was an open space in the center filled with lacquered tables and high-backed chairs, where the disciples consulted their books and wrote frantically on sheafs of paper. If he craned his neck, he could see that there were also nooks interspersed between shelves where more privacy was afforded for people seeking it. It was a place designed for thinking and academic discoveries. It made him want to grab his own stack of books and stay consumed by them for hours.
It wasn’t just the size or the architecture, though. It was also magic.
The books were moving, for one thing. The shelves seemed to have a built-in conveyor belt-like mechanism as the books inside shuffled themselves into an order Shen Yuan couldn’t parse. He watched as one disciple took out a book from a shelf, and the gap immediately closed as the books moved on their own. There were also floating light orbs. They seemed to move whenever someone needed them, some of them even following disciples around. And when he looked up, Shen Yuan saw the most remarkable thing of all: there were shelves on the ceiling! Upside down and mirroring the shelves on the ground, it was almost dizzying to look at.
Shen Yuan stared and stared, heart pounding in his ears as he took in the sight, the smell, and the sounds of Qing Jing’s library. It was the most magical, wonderful library he’s ever seen. Of course, it was! This was Qing Jing, the peak of the foremost scholars in the Jianghu! Of course it had the best library!
And Shen Yuan, resident nerd, lover of books and trashy novels, fell helplessly in love at first sight.
· ─ ·𖥸· ─ ·
Shen Yuan was deep into his second book about PIDW flora when the Lord of the Peak appeared in front of him.
After Wu Haocheng had abandoned him at the entrance of the library to join his martial siblings, Shen Yuan had taken a brief moment to orient himself. At first, he had planned to suss out what exactly his duties were here. He had opened the library doors because apparently, he was the only one who could (which again, was so incredibly stupid that he wanted to berate someone), but other than that, no one had explained to him what he was supposed to do at Qing Jing. Specifically, what his role was in the library.
So he had roamed through the shelves with no particular destination in mind. He was hoping to find some sort of sign on the wall that had directions on how he should proceed. But then he got distracted with the titles of the books, fascinated by such a wealth of knowledge at his fingertips. He had always loved the internet for that same exact reason. And here, it was like the internet made tangible—an ocean of information and knowledge that he could dive bodily into.
It wasn’t a conscious decision to pull a book out and settle in one of the nooks. Yet he found himself absorbed by the world described within the pages. He had only seen Qing Jing so far, but the prospect of a place where such fascinating flora abounded made him giddy with childish excitement. Perhaps he could go searching for these plants himself when he went down the mountain? Most of them seemed harmless, even! He knew Airplane was a hack when he only ever described plants with aphrodisiac properties!
He was so consumed with reading about a variant of a pomegranate tree that could only grow in the borderlands that he didn’t hear the footsteps approaching until a dark shadow loomed over his nook, blocking the light. Shen Yuan frowned, annoyed as he looked up at the rude intruder. He immediately froze when he met those piercing, green eyes. It was like he was spontaneously dropped in freezing water, left to drown.
He had never met this man before—not in the flesh, at least, not as anything but words on a page—but he recognized him instantly. Standing before him, with a scowl so vicious it could make a grown man cry, was Shen Qingqiu.
Shen Qingqiu. The resident scum of Qing Jing. The abuser of Luo Binghe. The lecherous, vicious, vile man destined to be pickled by his own disciple.
Shen Yuan despaired. He had been in this world for less than a day! It was too early for him to die! Shen Yuan wasn’t even overreacting, Shen Qingqiu really did look like he was about to murder him in cold blood and then feast on his flesh.
Shen Yuan had just died! He didn’t want to experience it again so soon!
He snapped the thick tome he was reading closed, placing it to the side, and hurried to stand up and bow. He almost tripped on his robes in the process, and he felt his cheeks flush in fear and mortification as Shen Qingqiu regarded him coolly.
“Lord Shen! This humble one greets you!” Gods, he hoped he was doing the right greeting. Was his bow even proper? He didn’t remember PIDW describing the bows in detail, so he could only assume it was the standard xianxia salute. Right?
Please, please let it be the correct greeting.
He received no response even after a few heavy seconds passed. Shen Yuan peeked through the curtain of his long hair to glance at Shen Qingqiu’s expression. The man’s brows were still pinched, and a painted fan covered the lower half of his face. Shen Yuan had only a brief moment to appreciate the mountains shrouded in fog delicately painted on the fan, before it was snapped shut.
The most absurd reality slapped him in the face then. Shen Qingqiu—this man who had coal for a heart—was breathtakingly beautiful.
Even with his scowl, which seemed permanently etched onto his face, and his pursed lips he was the picture of elegance and sophistication. Like a solitary white lily growing on top of a high mountain, unreachable and above all. The sneer he was sporting now barely detracted from the fullness of his mouth, the pale ivory of his skin, and the seafoam green of his eyes. It was so ridiculously unfair that Shen Yuan was momentarily overcome with indignation.
“Shen Yuan,” a voice so cool it could almost fog the air, addressed him. Ah, so I have the same name after all. At least that answered one of his questions. “What do you think you are doing?”
Shen Yuan carefully, like trying not to rouse a sleeping predator, straightened up from his bow. He warily searched the Scum Villain’s face, knowing that somehow, this was a trick question.
What was he doing?
The answer seemed obvious. So it would be safe to assume that said obvious answer was wrong. This was a trap, Shen Yuan knew it. But what else could he say?
Hesitantly, he opened his mouth. “This one was just, ahem, reading, Peak Lord Shen.”
“Reading?” Shen Yuan never knew such an innocent word could sound so venomous. He tried not to cower, he really did, but he was suddenly aware of the fact that he was cornered with no other soul (witness) in sight.
Shen Yuan could do nothing but nod shakily, bracing for the trap to spring and pin him like a mouse. He tried to muster up an innocent, disarming smile. (Unbeknownst to him, it was the same smile he used on his Er-ge when he did something he was specifically told not to do.) Surely, even Shen Qingqiu wouldn’t murder someone in broad daylight? And for seemingly no reason at all? Surely not.
“What are you smiling so idiotically about?!” Shen Qingqiu snapped. Shen Yuan wilted, his smile dropping into a put-upon pout. “I allowed you to take multiple days off after your pathetic qi deviation, and this is what I find you doing right after you get out of bedrest? Reading? After you left the library untended and the peak in disarray as a consequence?! The records are a mess! The scribes have been out of their minds, even going as far as to bother me! Me! Do you have any idea what grief you’ve put me through? And you’re here, reading instead of managing your duties! What do we even keep you for? Well?! Have you no excuses for yourself?!”
Shen Yuan’s eyes were wide as he stood there listening to the Scum Villain’s furious tirade. He was frightened, yes, but he was also shocked. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had raised their voice against him. His parents and siblings had all treated him like fragile porcelain most of the time. And though the coddling had annoyed him, it also meant he wasn’t used to anyone shouting at him. Shen Yuan found that it wasn’t nice being yelled at. Which was obvious, what type of masochist wanted to get yelled at?
He suddenly really missed his Da-ge and Er-ge. They might as well have been the ambassadors for gentle parenting, now that he thought about it. Shen Yuan was not a particularly well-behaved child growing up. Anyone else might’ve given up on the gentle parenting and given him a good ol’ spanking. His older brothers, who were around more than his parents, were very patient indeed.
Shen Yuan blinked. The Scum Villain recoiled as if Shen Yuan had spat on his face.
“Are you…crying right now?” Shen Qingqiu asked incredulously.
Shen Yuan touched his cheek, his fingertips coming away wet. His face flamed, mortified. Why was his new body betraying him like this?
“Ah, no,” Shen Yuan hurriedly wiped his eyes with the sleeves of his robe, chuckling nervously. “There was just dust in my eye. Lots of dust floating around here, yes. My apologies, Lord Shen.”
Shen Qingqiu looked down at him with suspicion, his anger momentarily forgotten. Shen Yuan prayed that the ground would come and swallow him whole. Not only had he cried, but he also did it in front of the Scum Villain. If Shen Qingqiu decided to strike him down now for the pathetic, overly emotional display, he wouldn’t even blame him.
It was a few long seconds of Shen Qingqiu studying him with narrowed eyes, and Shen Yuan thinking he had already messed up his transmigration experience, before the Scum Villain huffed in annoyance. Shen Qingqiu looked away and unfolded his fan, covering his face once more.
“Go man the desk, the scribes are acting like a bunch of headless chickens running around the peak.” He paused. “Don’t do this again.”
Shen Qingqiu turned around and started walking away without any more parting words.
Shen Yuan hastily bowed after his retreating back, hiding his frown behind the curtain of his hair. Don’t do what, exactly? Read? Cry?
As his face still burned from the mortification of the whole encounter, Shen Yuan vowed to himself never to catch the attention of the Scum Villain again.
· ─ ·𖥸· ─ ·
Despite the magic of the library, which he was very much interested in learning about (How did it work? Was it powered by qi? Talismans? Wards? Who designed this beautifully nonsensical beast of an architecture?), Shen Yuan soon found out how shockingly chaotic everything was. For a library with self-organizing shelves, it wasn’t really organized. Which was a crime, really. The magical library wasn’t magicking to its fullest potential! The horror of it all! The indignity!
After probing around the library, he found that the books were all shelved according to the year of publication. And maybe he should have expected this when libraries in ancient China began as places to store records, but this was simply too thoughtless! Bestiaries and cultivation manuals and books on the four arts all jumbled together in an incoherent mess! Not only that, they didn’t even have a public access catalog! No wonder the students here looked so harried and lost when they walked through the shelves. Hunting for resources in this library must be a nightmare.
Shen Yuan remembered his college days. Most of it was a haze of treatments and hospital stays and online classes. But on the rare days that he could manage to go outside without keeling over, he had spent most of it in their college library.
He didn’t particularly enjoy the deadlines and the assignments that seemed to be designed specifically to test his sanity, but he loved research. He loved the process of it. He loved walking between the shelves, counting the numbers until he got to the book he wanted. He loved the rush when he found the perfect reference for the argument he wanted to make. He loved the feel of paper grains on his fingertips, some crisp and new, some soft and as old as the college itself. He loved the sound of turning pages, the smell of glue on book spines, and the knowledge that he was surrounded by years of accumulated knowledge and history.
Shen Yuan had always had an immense love for libraries. And so it was hard not to love the Qing Jing library. It was inarguably the most beautiful place he’s ever seen. Never mind that said beautiful place was also a hot mess, apparently. Shen Yuan didn’t like crediting the man with anything remotely good in this world, but it was typical Airplane to have come up with a magical library, only for it to be a logistical nightmare.
Shen Yuan sighed to himself, watching from his desk as one of the disciples placed a book on the return cart. The book immediately went flying, off no doubt to its chronological place in the chaos, maybe somewhere sandwiched by a book about sword forms and a compendium of demonic insects. It made Shen Yuan sigh more deeply.
This place could benefit greatly from the Chinese Library Classification, or even the Dewey Decimal System. Maybe he should look into adapting that.
As he was thinking over revising the Dewey Decimal System for xianxia purposes (Which denomination could he assign for cultivation manuals? 790 for sports and recreation? 180 for ancient philosophy? 090 for rare books? Or would it be better to make an entirely new category?), a disciple approached his desk.
Shen Yuan quickly composed himself, sitting up properly from the slouch he was in when no one was looking. It was really hard to maintain an air of a respectable master all the time, okay? He couldn’t be judged for his posture when he was so used to sitting bonelessly in front of his computer all day.
The disciple was not anyone he recognized, which, to be fair, he only knew Wu Haocheng by name. Ever since coming to this world a week ago, the young man often visited the library to ask for references and ask after Shen Yuan’s well-being. He was a nice fellow. He also might be the only person Shen Yuan regularly spoke to outside of the scribes. That thought would have been distressing if Shen Yuan didn’t know that remaining relatively obscure was the greatest boon to surviving this place. He hadn’t forgotten where he was. This was PIDW, and every named male character had either of the two fates waiting for them: be killed or cuckolded by the protagonist. If you were extremely unlucky, maybe even both. Unless you got the enviable golden position of being Mobei-jun, the right-hand man.
So, yes, Shen Yuan would like to remain as obscure and non-assuming as possible. Just in case he couldn’t make the protagonist’s childhood improve enough that he wouldn’t grow into the vengeful demon lord he was written to be.
The unfamiliar disciple bowed when he reached the front of his desk. Shen Yuan gestured for him to speak.
“Greetings, Master Shen. This disciple comes bearing a message from the Qian Cao Peak library.”
Shen Yuan accepted the scroll handed to him, barely noticing when the disciple took leave. This was the first time he’d gotten a message in this world. Again, no one but Wu Haosheng and the peak scribes sought him out for anything. He unraveled it with a small amount of trepidation.
It was a request for the borrowing of one of the rarer tomes.
Here’s the thing: ever since coming to this world, Shen Yuan had mostly just occupied himself with the library. There were so many things to do.
He had first dealt with the matter of the scribes. The library had to be updated every day, and the peak records (class transcripts, meeting notes, logistical data, and the like) had to be filed as soon as the ink dried so as to avoid any chance of tampering. With him, the head librarian, being out of commission for five days, the scribes were out of their minds with the number of backlogs. It was a logistical nightmare.
Fortunately, he was able to solve that with relative ease. A little less unfortunately, it still took him four days. During that time, he discovered the existence of his office. It was tucked into the corner, beyond an unassuming door behind one of the shelves. It was simple, with a desk and his own personal reading nook. Shen Yuan had immediately hauled his bedding inside and had been sleeping there ever since. Every mealtime, a tray with bland Qing Jing food would be left on his desk. And anything else he needed, he could just request through one of the pigeons. All this to say, Shen Yuan had not set foot outside of the library since the day he first came to Qing Jing.
Shen Yuan knew the tome that Qian Cao wanted to borrow. It was a heavy medicinal text detailing the many plants used to bolster one’s cultivation. It was heavy, and it was old. Like, yellowed paper, brittle, and spine held together by hopes and qi, old. It was not the type of book to survive being carelessly removed from the library. One step out into the open air, and it might just crumble into dust altogether. (Shen Yuan added making copies of the priceless texts to his Library Reform Plan.)
But the issue was this: Shen Yuan couldn’t entrust the transport of the book to anyone else. First of all, lending the books outside of the peak—according to the very convenient journal belonging to the last head librarian that he found in his office—could only be done by the current head librarian. As in, literally, no one else can take the books outside the peak aside from him. Again, one of those finicky things with qi and keys and whatnot. If anyone else tried, an invisible barrier would spring up, preventing the unauthorized lending of text beyond the peak. Plus, he couldn’t really deny the request either. It looked like it was Mu Qingfang himself who was asking for the book. And no matter that Shen Yuan was the head librarian, he knew he had barely any authority compared to a peak lord. Refusing was simply not an option, even if he wanted to.
It seemed Shen Yuan had no choice. He had to go outside the comfort of his library and deliver this book to Mu Qingfang himself.
· ─ ·𖥸· ─ ·
Shen Yuan didn’t think he'd ever get used to being in a xianxia novel.
He had momentarily despaired having to carry such a ginormous book—3000 pages and hardbound with a material dense like concrete. He was already dreading having to haul the book that weighed as much as a sack of rice all the way to another peak. He might have a healthier body and a golden core in this world, but he still very much despised any physical activity. But thankfully, he had thought to ask around and found out that there was a qiankun pouch specifically for transporting delicate text (padded insides like layers of thick bubble wrap, dry, optimum pressure and temperature, so on and so on). Apparently, the former librarians had at least that much forethought. Their library classification system might be a mess, but hey, magical storage device!
He stared at the slightly bigger than a mantou qiankun pouch, mystified. Reading about a pocket dimension was very different from actually seeing one operate. He had gasped audibly when the book seemed to get sucked into the small opening of the bag. He wondered if the laws of physics just didn’t work the same here. Does xianxia China just operate on an entirely different set of physical laws? Is this qiankun pouch just a four-dimensional storage? Was Doraemon a sentient qiankun pouch?
“Fascinating.” He muttered to himself, marveling at how the pouch barely weighed anything. He might as well just be carrying an empty bag.
He heard whispers around him and looked up to see the passing disciples throwing him curious glances. He supposed he did look a bit silly just standing in the middle of the stone steps, staring at a pouch.
Shen Yuan disguised his embarrassment with a fake cough behind his fist. The disciples all looked away and continued on their way. He decided to follow their cue and start moving as well.
It was a beautiful summer day in Qing Jing. To be fair, it was probably almost always a beautiful day in Qing Jing, it’s just that this was Shen Yuan’s first time outside in a whole week. The peak was too picturesque, too straight out of a painting, to have any not-beautiful days. The trees were that lush green color, the sky a vibrant blue, with white stone pathways in between the bamboo, dappled by golden sunlight. It was the type of colorgrading you could only get post-editing with Photoshop or something. Even the sounds seemed to be carefully curated to simultaneously mesmerize and calm: birdsong, winds whispering through leaves, water flowing over round pebbles, quiet guqin notes in the distance. Shen Yuan was very careful not to disturb the peace as he walked his way across the peak until he reached the rainbow bridge.
The rainbow bridge was as breathtaking as its name suggested. A colorful suspension of refracted light stretched between the peaks. It was sparkling so vibrantly in the sunlight. Shen Yuan wondered if the rainbow bridge still worked at night, but he stored that question with the rest, to be examined at a later date. Shen Yuan was very skeptical about putting his weight on what was essentially just fancy colored air. Or should be, anyways.
Still, it was the bridge or flying on a sword.
Shen Yuan had found the original good’s spiritual sword in his office. He had taken it out of its sheath once, almost lost a finger trying to do tricks with it, and promptly decided not to take it out again for the foreseeable future. And though flying sounded fun in theory, he wasn’t too keen on finding out if it was also fun (and feasible) in reality.
Shen Yuan glanced at the many disciples safely crossing the bridge and assured himself of its structural integrity. He had a book to deliver to a peak lord.
It was half a shichen later when he found himself on Qian Cao soil. It would have taken less time if he hadn’t taken the scenic route, marveling at the sights of Cang Qiong.
He stepped into what he assumed was the main building, where disciples and doctors were all moving systematically. No one was running, but they all had that purposeful, almost aggressive stride that showed they had somewhere to get to urgently. Shen Yuan felt it was not a good idea to stop one of them to ask where he might find the Peak Lord. For all he knew, any one of them was on their way to save a person’s life.
He looked around and noticed there was a desk manned by a lone disciple. At that moment, the disciple had just finished talking to another disciple wearing Bai Zhan colors with an obvious limp. The Qian Cao disciple gestured to a waiting area, where the Bai Zhan disciple toddled off to with a mild frown on his face.
Shen Yuan approached the desk.
“Hello, may I know where I could find Peak Lord Mu Qingfang? I have his requested book from the Qing Jing library.”
The Qian Cao disciple seemed to recognize him, or at least the legitimacy of his request, as he stood up to greet him properly.
“Greetings, Master Shen. Shizun is currently performing surgery. Master Shen can wait for Shizun in his office. I’ll have one of my martial siblings escort you.”
Another passing disciple was called, and after a quick thanks to the receptionist, Shen Yuan was escorted deeper into the building. As they walked, he couldn’t help but look around. Qian Cao was a different beast from Qing Jing. The scholarly peak was all refinement and aesthetics. The medical peak seemed to focus more on practicality and cleanliness. The scent was different here as well. There was something herbal-like in the air, a touch of menthol and eucalyptus here and there.
They walked through corridors lined with doors, some of them open. Shen Yuan could see into the rooms containing one or two beds, simple accommodations with a wide window letting in ample sunlight. Some of the beds were occupied by disciples, being fussed over by Qian Cao's people. It was very reminiscent of the hospitals Shen Yuan used to be confined in all the time, sans the modern medical devices plugged about his body.
The disciple led him to the Peak Lord’s office and promptly left him there with a quick bow. Shen Yuan kind of felt bad for taking up even a little time out of the poor disciple’s probably hectic schedule. He stood there for a moment, not knowing what to do with himself.
The office looked similar to his own, just three times bigger. The majority of the space was occupied by what looked to be accommodations for guests. Low tables with comfy, expensive-looking mats with a tea set ready. There was also a corner of the room where a couple of dried plants were hanging from the ceiling, and a shelf full of vials containing mysterious xiaxia bits and blobs. Shen Yuan’s curiosity moved him naturally towards the shelf.
He was examining what looked like a monster claw suspended in a blue solution when the door opened. He jolted a bit, feeling like he was caught doing something he shouldn’t have. He straightened up and ran his hands over his robes as he faced Mu Qingfang.
“Greetings, Peak Lord Mu.” He bowed properly. “This one has bought the Lord’s requested book.”
Mu Qingfang, like Shen Qingqiu, was beautiful in a way only an immortal could be. Though he was wearing more practical robes—a little less ostentatious than what he saw Shen Qingqiu was wearing—he could tell it was of high quality. His hair was gathered in a low ponytail with a simple brown ribbon, matching his peak colors, draped over his shoulders. He was wearing round spectacles that showed keen, light brown eyes behind them. Overall, he gave off the impression of a wise, patient young master.
The sect’s foremost doctor smiled as he met Shen Yuan’s eyes. It instantly put Shen Yuan at ease. There wasn’t much written about Mu Qingfang on PIDW. Some part of him was expecting a Shen Qingqiu-like character, worried that all the Peak Lords were the same variant of stuck-up, scummy people. But thankfully, Mu Qingfang looked like a decent person so far.
“Ah, Master Shen! Thank you for coming all this way. I hope the journey wasn’t inconvenient for you.”
“Oh, not at all. It was a pleasant and much needed walk. I haven’t really ventured outside the library recently. I was overdue for an exercise.” Shen Yuan conversed politely. Maybe it was because Mu Qingfang reminded him of his geges’ rich, accomplished friends. His dormant, upper-echelon social lessons seemed to kick in automatically.
“Well, I’m glad to hear it was pleasant, at least. Please, have a seat. I had my disciples prepare tea in advance earlier. The warming talisman should still be active.” Mu Qingfang gestured to the low table, and Shen Yuan obediently sat. Though he wasn’t really sure why he was being invited to tea so suddenly. He just assumed he would be dropping off the book and be back on his way.
He tried not to fidget as he watched Mu Qingfang lower himself in front of him and start preparing the tea.
“I must apologize, Master Shen,” Mu Qingfang began as he placed a freshly brewed cup of tea in front of Shen Yuan. “I meant to visit you after hearing that you woke up after your qi deviation. Unfortunately, I have only recently gotten back from treating an outbreak in one of the towns under our jurisdiction. If it’s alright with you, I would like to take this time to assess your meridians.”
Shen Yuan listened as he took a careful sip of the tea. It tasted somewhat like jasmine and warmed Shen Yuan’s insides. He smiled as he nodded at the doctor.
“Of course. And please, you’re too kind, there is nothing for Peak Lord Mu to apologize for. I understand how busy you must be, being the most renowned doctor of Cang Qiong. It is already an honor that this humble one has the care of someone so esteemed.” Shen Yuan wondered if he was laying it on too thick as he watched Mu Qingfang blush slightly at the compliment. But he meant every word. He was being remarkably calm on the outside, but Shen Yuan was still fanboying on the inside about getting to see Mu Qingfang’s skills in action. Even if it was just a simple checkup.
Mu Qingfang’s hold on his wrist was gentle and firm at the same time. Shen Yuan felt a cool stream of qi flow within his meridians, like a balm. The Qian Cao Peak Lord did the checkup with an ease and efficiency that spoke of many years of experience. He asked Shen Yuan some questions about his well-being, and Shen Yuan answered dutifully. It was all very standard.
It barely took half a ke. Shen Yuan ended up staying in that office for a shichen.
Turns out, he and Mu Qingfang had a lot of common interests! They ended up talking at length about the book that sparked this whole meeting. Mu Qingfang had very interesting insights about how the spring flowers that so dominated the land’s flora could actually be used for vastly wide medical applications. And in turn, Shen Yuan had ended up geeking out about the many demonic plants that had interesting properties and how he thought some of them could even paradoxically be used to bolster one’s cultivation.
Mu Qingfang seemed like a lofty, untouchable immortal at first, but as they talked more, Shen Yuan found that the man was just as nerdy as he was. The way his eyes would light up when he talked about medical herbs was similar to how Shen Yuan’s did when he talked about anything demons.
By the time he noticed how low the sun had sunk on the horizon, they had already finished two pots of tea. Shen Yuan had to go back to his station, and Mu Qingfang had his evening rounds to get to. Shen Yuan left Qian Cao with a promise of another meeting over tea, having made his first friend in this world.
On his way back, he ran into another Peak Lord.
Maybe it was the high of making what he could call his first friend, or maybe he was simply not paying enough attention. Shen Yuan ran straight into what felt like a solid wall.
It turned out to be someone’s chest.
“Ow,” Shen Yuan rubbed his sore nose, looking up at the man who had almost bowled him over.
And there, under the orange glow of the sinking sun, was the most gorgeous man he’s ever met.
“Whoa,” Shen Yuan, still holding his nose, eyes wide with the sudden attack of unrealistic visuals.
Had a god gotten lost in the mortal realm? Those eyelashes were criminally long and shouldn’t feasibly exist, nor should those proportions. If a man had that beautiful a face, the least the world could do was not give him the body of a Greek sculpture. How could it be fair to everybody else otherwise? But even under the bulk of ancient xianxia robes, he could tell the man was built like an inverted Dorito—broad chest with an unfeasibly trim waist. As with Shen Qingqiu, this man was so beautiful that it was honestly making Shen Yuan kind of mad.
If he had any doubt as to who this could be, the Bai Zhan blue of his robes only confirmed his suspicions.
Liu Qingge looked down at him with a mix of mild curiosity and annoyance. Shen Yuan realized he had been staring for longer than was appropriate and promptly coughed into his fist.
“Apologies, Peak Lord Liu. This one wasn’t paying attention to where he was going.” Shen Yuan hesitated under those glaring, intense eyes. “Are you…hurt?”
Even as the question left his mouth, he felt ridiculous. Of course, Liu Qingge couldn’t be hurt by anything Shen Yuan could do to him. On the other hand, his nose felt like it might actually be broken. Why was the man’s chest so hard?
Liu Qingge looked equal parts offended and confused. Shen Yuan would probably also feel those things if a puppy showed him concern for bumping into his leg. No, not a puppy. That was giving himself too much credit. An ant, maybe.
Another beat of silence as they just stared at each other. Or in Liu Qingge’s case, glared at the slowly shrinking shut-in librarian in front of him. When he finally spoke, his voice was gruff, and though it wasn’t loud, carried in the air and seemed to shake Shen Yuan to his bones. Shen Yuan was very aware of how easily the man could break him in half.
“Move.”
“Yes, of course, many apologies.” Shen Yuan said in a rush. No, he definitely did not squeak, thank you very much.
Without sparing him another glance, Liu Qingge marched on, disappearing in the direction Shen Yuan assumed was Bai Zhan. He puffed out a breath. He had survived a third encounter with a peak lord, which was a streak. Hopefully, he could keep it up.
As Shen Yuan continued his way back to Qing Jing, he realized the implications of Liu Qingge being out and about.
Binghe must not be on the mountain yet.
Liu Qingge had died pretty early on in the timeline. And for the short while that he was alive during the events of PIDW, he was mentioned to be in seclusion at the Ling Xi caves, where the resident scum villain then killed him.
Shen Yuan smiled to himself, suddenly giddy. This meant he had more time than he thought! Binghe was still far from blackening; there was still hope for the bright bun’s future! Shen Yuan would just have to wait for him to arrive on Cang Qiong and do his utmost best to cling to those golden thighs. In the meantime, Shen Yuan would go back to the library and do his job quietly. With a renewed sense of hope, Shen Yuan skipped his way back to Qing Jing Peak.
· ─ ·𖥸· ─ ·
Somewhere in the Abyss, a young man shattered, over and over.
Meanwhile, on Qing Jing Peak, one of the books vanished into existence. Quietly, without fuss. We do not know if it was the first or only book to have disappeared so. After all, there was no one to remember.