Chapter Text
Going through all of his orders is tedious. It’s something that simply must be done — Qing Jing requires many materials, many precise materials to function, and Shen Qingqiu needs to ensure that everything is accurate.
Most Peak Lords, Shen Qingqiu knows from observation, delegate such tasks to their head disciples. Not only is it good practice, should these head disciples turn out to be the succeeding disciples, but having someone to give such annoying tasks to is half the reason to have a head disciple.
Unfortunately, Shen Qingqiu has yet to find an actually competent one.
His standards are exacting. A head disciple must do their work well enough that Shen Qingqiu can hand over said work, as well as be clever and quick enough to keep up with him… But not too clever that Shen Qingqiu has an usurper on his hands.
The last head disciple had invented commands from Shen Qingqiu out of whole cloth, ordering around her other disciples for her own gain. Clever enough to do that, but not think it through. She’s no longer on Qing Jing — instead replaced by one who can be trusted to handle her fellow disciples and would never dream of lying to Shen Qingqiu… But it’s quite frankly a gift from the gods that she’s managed to pass her classes. She can’t be trusted with this.
So Shen Qingqiu has to check it himself.
They got the correct paper width this time, good… But the wrong shade of turquoise, how do they expect him to produce his paintings with such incompetence! At least his order of brushes looks fine, he really needed them after-
…
…He hadn’t ordered any new brushes.
Shen Qingqiu stares down at the fine-tipped brushes in the crate, trying to process this. He knows he hadn’t ordered these. It had been a memorable incident — one of the Qiong Ding disciples, a new one who had gotten a duty foisted upon them which had been quite over their head, had mixed up the brushes. Instead of retrieving proper calligraphy brushes as instructed, or even accidentally taking some of the disciples’ other brushes… they had accidentally taken Shen Qingqiu’s personal brushes. Normally those were in his personal storage, but he had very temporarily placed some items in the Peak storage while he rearranged things.
He also specifically knows he hadn’t ordered them because that incident had occurred right after he had submitted his order, yet not close enough in time he had thought it worth it to go shake down Shang Qinghua.
Instead, Shen Qingqiu had argued with Yue Qingyuan, since it was his stupid disciples’ fault and he is always an easy target. Arguing is perhaps a strong word — Yue Qingyuan had simply apologized repeatedly, and promised to pay him back while Shen Qingqiu had done his best to hit him where it hurts, or as effectively as he could within a semi-public setting (he has long perfected that art). Shen Qingqiu had noted down Shang Qinghua’s presence, late leaving the meeting on account of his many scattered papers, but hadn’t thought too much of it at the time.
Huh. Well. He certainly… appreciates his pathetic shidi going above and beyond at his job. It makes his own job easier, at least. Shen Qingqiu sets the brushes aside, resolving to paint later, and continues checking the order.
Shen Qingqiu doesn’t forget that Shang Qinghua did such, but he does put it out of his mind. His shidi is far too much of a coward to try to leverage such a small completely-unstated favor, and likely the only motivation behind such was to quell Shen Qingqiu’s wrath. Trivial matters.
No, what really makes things weird is the tea.
It’s tucked into his next order, innocuous and unfamiliar and definitely unordered. If it were a tea he liked, it would at least make sense as some form of sucking up (though while Shen Qingqiu would be impressed at Shang Qinghua’s observation skills in such a case, it would also admittedly make him deeply suspicious). This tea? Completely unfamiliar tea?
He takes it straight to Mu Qingfang to check for poison.
Mu Qingfang, as his favorite martial sibling and the person who seems the most dedicated to keeping Shen Qingqiu alive — if they ever wanted them dead, all they would need to do would be to let the next qi deviation take him — listens to his concerns and tests the tea with seriousness. Someone wanting to poison Shen Qingqiu is deeply believable, but…
“It’s clean,” Mu Qingfang says simply.
Shen Qingqiu can’t help his skepticism. “You’re positive? It is perfectly fine?”
They nod, eyes brightening a touch. “Yes — in fact, it appears regular doses of this tea will actually improve one’s cultivation, potentially providing stabilization as well.” Shen Qingqiu’s lip curls — such a thing sounds useful, but to lower himself to request this from Shang Qinghua…
No, never.
“When I ascertain who is the true owner of this, I will pass their name along to you,” Shen Qingqiu says. Partly in thanks, partly because getting this through Mu Qingfang would be a less humiliating experience and easier to hide, and partially because setting the healer after one of their fellow peak lords will give him a break.
Whether Mu Qingfang can tell any hint of his ulterior motives or not, they thank him, and Shen Qingqiu sets off to find Shang Qinghua. Locating him is easy, but Shen Qingqiu doesn’t want to simply break down his door — too loud, too obvious. He’s not Liu Qingge. Instead, he plans for their paths to intersect.
“Shang-shidi,” Shen Qingqiu greets him coldly, eyes narrowing as he falls into step on the way to Qiong Ding.
Shang Qinghua startles, his entire body spasming as he fumbles and nearly drops his armful of scrolls, eyes comically wide. “Sh- Shen-shixiong!” He bows slightly, his mouth stretching into a painful attempt at a smile. “Are- Are you going to see Zhangmen-shixiong as well? I can wait, haha, maybe I’ll go later cause he’ll definitely be more happy to see you and-“
“Enough,” snaps Shen Qingqiu. Such babbling is intolerable. “I have come to see you.”
Somehow, this pathetic excuse for a person gets even more nervous, and laughs uncomfortably. “Aha, me? Why-“ A swallow. “Why would you ever need to see me, shixiong?”
If he wanted to be left alone, he should have gotten his order correct. “My order,” Shen Qingqiu says, sneering and mock-pleasant at the same time. “You gave me someone else’s order. Come pick it up before people… talk.”
Perhaps he is paranoid. Perhaps he is already anticipating the worst. But experience has taught him to be this way… and he would also rather run his martial siblings’ failures in their faces, rather than quietly dispose of the tea and move on. It gives him something to do.
Strangely enough, Shang Qinghua relaxes at this. His defensive shoulders come down, stance loosens, and his attempted smile is less painful to look upon. “Oh, that’s not a mistake. That’s for you, Shen-shixiong.”
Shen Qingqiu pauses, forcing Shang Qinghua to halt as well. “…I did not order such a thing,” he says.
“Aha, um, yeah. I know.” He shifts awkwardly, reaching with one hand towards his face in a nervous gesture, only to grimace when he realizes he can’t actually reach given his full arms. “It’s supposed to help with your cultivation. And, um, with peaceful sleep.”
It takes all of Shen Qingqiu’s self-control and willpower to not snap his fan right then and there, though his grip on it goes white-knuckled. Is he that transparent? That pitiful, enough that someone like Shang Qinghua would look at him with condescension?
“I see,” says Shen Qingqiu. “Many thanks.” He snaps that like it’s an insult, and turns to stalk away.
Leveraging for a favor seems to be the most obvious reason for a gift, especially in the wake of the brushes, and yet Shang Qinghua does nothing. Nothing.
Despite his pathetic exterior, Shen Qingqiu is very aware of Shang Qinghua’s quiet ruthlessness. The other is akin to himself in that he had… interfered with a few other rival disciples. Why he chooses to act like a fool — he is a coward, no acting required — Shen Qingqiu will never understand, but the fact that he is underhanded is one of the few things he respects about the other.
It also makes him dangerous.
Despite that, though, nothing seems to come of this. Shang Qinghua acts no different than before. Shen Qingqiu very carefully lowers his guard, just fractionally, and decides to also proceed like usual.
It is a tenuous peace of sorts — one that either Shang Qinghua is unaware of, or frightened good at pretending he is unaware of — until The Day. Until That Incident.
It’s late in the evening. Late enough that it’s a thoroughly indecent hour for visitors, and the only person who would possibly visit him at this time would be Yue Qingyuan. He seems to have no regard for decency when Shen Qingqiu is involved.
The quick, nervous knocks on his door are not from Yue Qingyuan.
Shen Qingqiu pulls on an outer robe to give himself the semblance of dignity before he wrenches open the door, sneering at the terrified An Ding disciple standing before him. “Yes?” he snaps.
The disciple flinches and then holds out a wrapped bundle. “For… for you. From Shizun.”
Shen Qingqiu eyes it suspiciously. Only the fact that Shang Qinghua isn’t foolish enough to incriminate himself so publicly allows him to take it, snatching it from the hapless disciple’s hands. “Go,” he says, and they gratefully bolt.
Once he’s shut the door firmly behind him, Shen Qingqiu sets the package on the table and regards it with suspicion. It had felt like fabric of some kind, from the way it shifted within the paper… Carefully, he unwraps it.
It’s a blanket.
A soft blanket, too — one he could only dream of as a child, like clouds when he skims his fingers over it. He hates that that’s where his thoughts go, a street rat picturing things beyond his comprehension, but it’s…
Yue Qingyuan gives gifts out of guilt. It’s clear and apparent. He gives gifts out of a desperate guilt written in every cun of his body, and it grates on Shen Qingqiu, pricking him as though he were rubbing thorns over his skin.
But Shang Qinghua…
Shen Qingqiu touches the blanket gently, as if too harsh a touch would cause it to vanish. He considers. He runs over all the possible hints — the gifts, seemingly without an ulterior motive, seemingly intended just to care for Shen Qingqiu. They had all been either needed… or items intended for comfort, for wellness. He thinks of how Shang Qinghua has looked at him in the past, how the man is never straightforward, how he skitters around the point like an insect…
Ah. Of course.
Shang Qinghua is courting him.
Shen Qingqiu can work with this.