Chapter Text
Shen Yuan suddenly opened his eyes, blinking profusely as harsh sunlight pierced his eyes. Sleep still clung to his disoriented brain, and his odd dream lingered like spider webs, paradoxically strong yet delicate enough for a human to easily swipe away.
Carefully, he approached the intricate web, making sure to not disturb the thin silk strands. Wakefulness, like a strong current of wind, threatened to swipe the web away into the recesses of his subconscious. Dedicated to remembering, Shen Yuan concentrated as much as he could, fighting against the wind and following the pattern it formed, following every curve and intersection until--
He remembered a cute little bun.
A cute little bun with tiny hands holding up a flower crown. A cute little bun with a tiny face that was much too thin, yet when he smiled, he shone like a tiny sun.
A cute little bun with a sweet little voice calling him Shizun.
Groaning, he raised a hand to his head, weathering out the sharp pressure trying to crush his head like a ripe grape. Even though his head no longer felt like an overinflated balloon, his body ached like he had made the mistake of working out 24/7 with Liu Qingge.
As all of his senses started to return, the sound of rustling and body-shaking sobs reached his ears; there was only one person it could be.
“Binghe?”
A pretty face appeared in front of Shen Yuan, long eyelashes clumped together from the sheer amount of tears flowing down his face. As his sense of touch gradually spread throughout his body, he finally noticed what Binghe had used to collect his tears. Hot and wet, his pajama shirt clung to his stomach the same way Binghe now clung to his arm.
“Yuan-ge,” wailed Binghe and clung to him harder. “Don’t do that to me again!”
“Okay, okay” he agreed and patted his head like an owner petting their needy puppy.
“I mean it! No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t wake you up! You’ve been unconscious for over a day!” he curled up into his chest and sniffed, cuddling Shen Yuan like a body pillow.
If he was asleep for that long, then why did his body feel like it was put in the meat grinder?!
Eyes holding the nightsky’s stars looked up at him, a sad frown giving him the aura of a wilted sunflower.
This beautiful face staring at him gave him a sense of déjà vu. Peerless and sculpted, it was hard to imagine what he looked like when he was younger, but the longer Shen Yuan pondered, the more certain he became that the little sun of his dreams and Binghe were one and the same.
“Binghe,” he called out. “I have a question for you.”
“Yuan-ge can ask me anything,” he said, his eyes wide open.
“Reincarnation is real, isn’t it?”
Binghe’s face, decorated with shimmering trails of tears, no longer pouted, but became solemn and serious.
Really, this was not a genuine question, but something of a confirmation. Shen Yuan had wondered what it was about him that had caused Binghe to chase after him for no reason. How comfortable he was with Shen Yuan was inexplicable, as was the way he liked to have his complete attention. These little things, sticking out like thorns, pricked his brain until an idea formed in his head.
I’m not a complete stranger.
As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he heard another voice, one similar yet not to Binghe’s saying, You have yet to regain your past life’s memories…
Could there really be a way to regain his past memories? Considering how he felt like a dried out piece of jerky, he found it hard to believe that there was an easy path for him to take.
But as he looked at Binghe, witnessing the rays of hope shine from his eyes, Shen Yuan wished to try.
“What do you think?” Binghe asked back, another ungenuine question.
Shen Yuan smiled. “I think it’s fortunate that the tiny bun I saw was able to grow up so big and strong.”
Tears pooled in Binghe’s pretty brown eyes, the stars shining even brighter as a giant smile caused his eyes to crinkle in pure joy.
☀
“I know we decided to reenact the past in order to dig up my memories, but this is--” Shen Yuan stopped talking, burying his face in his palms.
Screaming in his mind, a torrent of bloody tears rained down his face until he feared he’d drown if he kept it up, so he shut his mouth up to stare at the deceptively beautiful sky, watching the sun shine down on his tormented face.
Why have the heavens forsaken Shen Yuan?!
Was he not a dutiful, filial son? Did he not take good care of his meimei and make sure to recycle what could be recycled?
What had he done to deserve this?
A solid, warm body wiggled in his lap, trying to get even closer. A shadow soon covered the sun he had so passionately beseeched to, demanding his full attention.
“But Shizun,” Binghe pouted and pulled on his hands. “This disciple always used to sit on your lap for writing lessons.”
Binghe didn’t skimp on their plan, and went all out by acquiring a simple yet well-made silk robe for Shen Yuan, even decorating his guest room into a study an ancient scholar would drool over. Blank scrolls, expensive brushes, and an inkstone were in front of the pair, sharing a chair in front of a well-made desk.
Bending over slightly, Binghe reached for the inkstone and started to grind for ink, his movements causing him to sway ever so slightly in Shen Yuan’s lap.
AHHHHHHHH-- ( ಥಥ ) ( ಥಥ ) ( ಥಥ )
The screaming started up again until Binghe turned around with a smile, showing off the fresh ink for them to use now. Instinctively praising him, Shen Yuan patted his head.
It was a miracle he had taken up calligraphy in his youth, otherwise they would have needed to do something else.
Reaching for a brush, Shen Yuan decided to write a short phrase, something simple and easy to copy. After finishing, he gestured for Binghe to copy the phrase, passing over the same brush to him.
It was when Binghe was nearly done that Shen Yuan noticed his grip wasn’t quite right.
When he reached out to instinctively correct his grip, he blinked, and found himself correcting the grip of a tiny hand.
“-- there we go,” he tapped his hand with an elegant finger. “Why don’t you try now, Binghe?”
A serious pout formed on the tiny face, taking care to hold the brush the proper way as he dragged the bristles across the scroll. So focused was Binghe with his task that he didn’t notice how Shen Qingqiu looked at him with delighted pride.
He has many other disciples, but Binghe was his best pupil. Attentive, dedicated, and with natural talent, it wasn’t a wonder to see how far he’s managed to grow.
If only he would let his Shizun fatten him up more! He was too small and skinny for his age, looking a few years younger than he truly was, yet he insisted on feeding Shen Qingqiu meals he made just for him.
,p.And they were delicious! Everything he made was excellent, but he wished Binghe would enjoy them instead.
“Shizun, this disciple is finished,” he turned to look up at Shen Qingqiu, his eyes wide with hope for praise.
His wishes were granted. “Ah, well done, Binghe!” Taking the scroll, he held it up to admire. “Look at how even your strokes are!”
He continued to praise his favorite disciple while giving a few corrections as necessary until the sun was about to set.
“The day passed so fast,” he commented and patted his soft, curly hair. “It’s time to go back home.”
Walking toward the front door, he held a tiny hand in his own and walked through the street. Admiring the fiery sky, he blinked, only for his bedroom ceiling to greet him.
A wave of vertigo hit him as he went from standing up to laying on his soft bed. Trying to regain his sense of direction, Shen Yuan noticed a large figure sitting on a chair beside him, wringing out a towel after submerging it in ice cold water.
“Binghe?” he called out. “How long was I asleep for?”
“Half the day,” he said. “It’s nearly time for dinner.”
Shen Yuan continued to stare at the ceiling, obediently staying still to allow Binghe to continue putting a cold towel on his forehead. “Binghe, have you ever eaten in bed?”
A confused frown crossed his handsome face. “Eat? In bed?”
Nodding solemnly, Shen Yuan knew he had more to teach Binghe.
☀
Sitting up against the headboard, the pair looked down at the laptop placed near the end of the bed. The latest, hottest anime of the season was playing on the screen, providing the only light source in the dark room. Sighing in happiness, Shen Yuan ate the noodles Binghe had quickly made, perfectly bouncy and chewy.
He really could be a professional chef if he wanted to!
Although Shen Yuan was enjoying himself, his mind drifted to various thoughts, primarily focused on the kind of life Binghe had as a child.
Binghe had been a very cute child, but his thin and small frame, clothed in clean yet rough robes, was enough to demonstrate how he grew up in poverty. It was a drastic comparison to his current self, who seemed to have amassed immeasurable wealth.
Despite his newfound circumstances, traces of his youth remained: the most notable being his dislike of wasting food. Everything they ordered was carefully prepared, and if anything was close to rotting, Binghe cheerfully made use of the freezer.
Even the fried chicken he had ordered, which Binghe absolutely hated, didn’t go to waste. With a grimace on his beautiful face, he had swallowed down his meal until not a single crumb remained.
From the corner of his eye, he watched Binghe’s immaculate resting face, the light reflecting against his skin and following the contours of his cheekbones. Having already finished eating, he merely watched the computer, his eyes brightening with the color of the rainbow.
“Is Shizun pleased with this disciple’s face?”
Shen Yuan coughed, choking on his food. Deflect, deflect, deflect! “Who’s your Shizun?!”
“You!” Tears immediately pooled in his wide eyes. “Even if Shizun never manages to remember, this disciple does!”
“I’m still not confident I’ll remember everything,” Shen Yuan confessed, looking down at his now empty bowl. “Even these small scraps have knocked me out.”
Binghe’s eyes lingered on his face, a look of deep contemplation crossing his face. “This disciple still has power over dreams. What about trying to recreate memories while we sleep?”
Instead of doing the easiest thing, why the hell did they decide on having Binghe sit on his lap?!
Shen Yuan let out a disgruntled complaint. “Why didn’t we think of that earlier?!”
Looking innocently at Shen Yuan, Binghe lied. “It slipped this disciple’s mind earlier.”
Grumbling under his breath about how Binghe’s memory was always in his favor, they eventually got ready for bed. Binghe insisted physical contact enhanced his powers, leading him to smugly cuddle up against Shen Yuan’s bony chest.
Attune to the heartbeat beating against his ear, Binghe soon fell into a deep sleep, Shen Yuan following right after him.
☾
“Watch where you’re going!”
A tall figure in expensive silk robes swung his arm fiercely, not caring about the child who tumbled into the road full of dirty snow. Falling heavily on his knees, the child barely reacted, only looking at how the man double-checked none of his books or scrolls had gotten dirty.
Those traversing on the cold road didn’t spare the scene a glance, except for another tall figure, similarly dressed to the one still berating the small child. He also carried the same things the other man did, his arms full of books and scrolls.
After walking across, Shen Qingqiu noticed how the child remained on the ground, motionless and apathetic to his surroundings, his dark eyes staring at his reddened, knobbly knees. It was so cold that the child’s face, devoid of any blood, was even tinged blue.
“Do you know how to clean rooms?” he asked the small child, holding out his gloved right hand.
The child glanced at him, then at his hand. Ignoring his silent offer to help him up, He stood on his own, placing his bare hands against the snow. “Yes, gongzi.”
Shen Qingqiu walked and hummed a simple tune, not minding how the poor bun followed him with a wary look on his young face.
Entering his modest house with a blazing fireplace, he gave him a quick tour of his cluttered rooms and showed him where to find the cleaning supplies. In all honesty, Shen Qingqiu didn’t need to clean his house, but this child didn’t seem the kind to react well to being given a coin in pity.
While he dutifully made his house sparkle, Shen Qingqiu went into the kitchen to brew some tea and serve some snacks for his little guest.
Although the faint sound of a grumbling stomach could be heard, the child refused the tea and snacks, insisting on getting paid and leaving.
“At least take a few cookies for the road,” insisted Shen Qingqiu. “There’s too many to enjoy alone.”
With a cute frown, he left with a box full of cookies.
From that day onwards the child, Luo Binghe, became a regular fixture of his house.
☀
In this manner, Shen Yuan slowly but surely started to regain his memories.
He witnessed how Binghe slowly began to trust him, watching the guarded gaze bloomed into shimmering stars. Gongzi eventually turned into Shizun, the polite yet distant voice thawing out into something warm and cheerful.
Shen Yuan couldn’t help but become overwhelmed at times, watching Binghe grow up, nurtured and cared for in part from his past actions. It had been hard to watch the moment in which Binghe bore the tragic news of his mother passing. He couldn’t blame him for crying when they woke up.
The most he could do was tuck him into his neck and let him cry his heart out.
There were still times when he couldn’t remember everything, yet Binghe’s dream powers helped to wipe away the dust lingering in his brain, and the more he remembered, the happier Binghe became.
His joy was infectious. Beaming like a newborn sun, he couldn’t help but find his own happiness in watching Binghe.
Binghe had reached his teen years when they were interrupted by unwanted guests.
Pausing at the noise coming from his living room, Shen Yuan immediately gripped the knife in his hand with more force and followed after Binghe, who had turned the stove off. Armed and ready, Shen Yuan peeked over his shoulder, only to find two vaguely familiar figures looking around, one of them pointing at the sofa with delight.
“Zhuzhi-Lang, we must get one of those.”
“Yes, my lord,” he agreed.
The more Shen Yuan stared, the more he remembered talking to them. Zhuzhi-Lang, the one in green silk robes, could turn into a stunning snake. And the one beside him, wearing simple silk robes with an aura of power, was Tianlang-Jun, Binghe’s father.
Fuck! What were they doing here? And without knocking!
Thank goodness they tidied up the apartment in the morning: no wonder his mother always insisted he clean his room in case they had guests come over.
Shen Yuan hid the knife behind his back. “I’ll go and make some tea.”
“No, wait, I can do it!” Binghe insisted.
“Hello!” Tianlang-Jun greeted them. “We were nearby, so we decided to stop by. Zhuzhi-Lang, could you give them our wedding gift?”
Taking a box out, he presented it to Binghe, who warily looked at the box like it was poison.
“Since you’re not capable of bearing children, I thought the best thing to gift would be child-bearing pills--”
The best thing to gift would be WHAT PILLS--
No longer looking at it like poison, Binghe quickly snatched the box and bowed politely. “Thanking… father… and cousin… for the thoughtful gift.”
Thoughtful gift my ass! Don’t even think about ever getting to use the gift! I’m going to burn it! Even the box!
Once the tea was served alongside some snacks, the occupants of the room settled down on the dining table. Shen Yuan chatted with Zhuzhi-Lang and Tianlang-Jun while Binghe busied himself with making sure Shen Yuan was eating enough.
Things were somewhat calm-- dare he say nice-- until Tianlang-Jun turned to look at Binghe. “Why have you dawdled, son of mine? I thought my son-in-law would be whole again, yet here he is, a half of a whole. Do you need instructions?”
“Shizun,” Binghe said icily. “Isn’t it time for our… guests… to leave now?”
“Wait,” Shen Yuan called out. “What do you mean I’m half of a whole? Do you know how I can regain my past memories?”
Tianlang-Jun placed his cup of tea down. “Senior Shen,” he said with a bemused smile. “Didn’t I tell you in our last conversation? In order to regain your memories, you just need to dual cultivate.”