Chapter Text
Shen Yuan likes to pride himself in his resourcefulness.
He may have been prone to lazing and lounging around not unlike a dainty maiden in his previous life, but movies and web novels had been bound to teach him something. In fact, his knowledge proves to be most useful when he transmigrates into the moronic train wreck of Proud Immortal Demon’s Way as a bland and weak cannon-fodder child.
And it proves to be even more useful when Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky’s disaster of a plot begins to unravel. Working around the mediocrity of Airplane’s setting and characters is what Shen Yuan has always excelled at, after all.
“Xiao Yuan,” Qi-ge whispers, a hint of appalment seeping into his voice, “when did you learn to pick locks?”
Shen Yuan shushes him. Qi-ge’s voice is not louder than the flapping wings of a soaring bird, but in the middle of the night even the flight of an owl can be as deafening as a gunshot.
“You’re going to get us killed,” Jiu-ge seethes, digging his claws into Qi-ge’s shoulders. Qi-ge bravely does not yelp nor drop Jiu-ge to the ground, but even in the darkness Shen Yuan can see his wince. “A-Yuan is my little brother, of course he’d be skilled. Unlike you.”
Shen Yuan’s lips twitch, though he wisely does not snicker nor visibly preens.
Qi-ge had crafted the grand plan of sneaking into the Qiu estate, but it had been Shen Yuan who’d perfected it. It had consisted of three easy, general steps: slipping in during the dead of night, retrieving his brother and running far away enough that by dawn there would not be a single wisp of them in town. The specifics had been a bit more complex, but enough to convince Qi-ge to bring him along.
Shen Yuan is certain he wouldn’t have been able to go through those locks on his own, instead probably electing to give some lame speech and swearing to come back (which, hello? Huge red flag). His lock performance is enough to even render Jiu-ge speechless and save themselves the inevitable beratement. For the moment.
(And maybe he may have had some assistance from the System in exchange for some points. But he won’t be admitting that one out loud).
When they step out of the mansion, a wave of drowning relief almost makes him stagger on his feet. A glowing crescent moon hangs above the Qiu estate’s guarded door, taunting them with an impossibly wide grin. Long shadows still conceal the hole in which Qi-ge and him crawled in, a conveniently just big enough crack rifting the estate’s outer walls.
Their breaths are deafening in the quiet of the night. Shen Yuan’s heart thunders even louder. But they are so close. Only a few more steps.
If Shen Yuan were reading this curled in the cosy sofa of his apartment back at Shanghai, hand not holding his phone already reaching for his laptop to spew fire about PIDW’s latest chapter, he would’ve seen the twist coming from a mile. Characters on the brink of achieving something and everything crumbling around them in the blink of an eye is a classic for the tragic plot twist. A cliché as old as time.
There’s such a thing as too perfect, and it might as well be the oldest literary device ever.
But at this moment, Shen Yuan is surviving in a world that’s supposed to only exist in the hearts of readers, and his body cannot but freeze with dread when the guard’s gaze strays too far and catches movement among the shadows. Qi-ge is already on the other side of the wall, helping Jiu-ge’s battered body pass through, so it’s only him who remains behind.
The moon’s nacreous glow is still too bright, and the shadows fail to conceal him.
Their gazes lock. He belatedly realises it when the yells start to echo in the empty front yard, two fully armed men barrelling towards them. Shen Yuan shoves earth to Jiu-ge’s still visible worn-down shoes and hastily covers the hole. His brother shouts his name, vexed.
“Qi-ge, take care of him! I’ll distract them! Run away!”
He decides it as easy as breathing, a split of a second conviction to carry this rescue to success.
Jiu-ge screeches again, though it’s promptly muffled by presumably Qi-ge’s hand. Shen Yuan quietly bids gentle Qi-ge and spitfire Jiu-ge farewell, bolting away from the hole and making as much of a ruckus as possible. The steps of the guards resound ominously behind him, growing closer. Shen Yuan pushes his burning legs, resolutely not looking back.
The pursuit’s cut short when an arrow pierces his right leg, a second one swiftly skewering through his left shoulder.
This child’s seven-year-old body is not durable by any means. His knees buckle beneath him, white-hot pain blinding him. He chokes on his own spit, chest rising and falling with shallow, desperate breaths.
This is the end, huh? So much time spent struggling and fighting tooth and nail to survive, and he dies in the most pathetic of ways. Truly an end befitting of a cannon-fodder. Alas, it is not as embarrassing as his first death.
He hopes that Shen Jiu and Yue Qi are far, far away already, headed east towards the promised land of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect.
Perhaps Jiu-ge won’t grow up to be a scum villain and Airplane’s idiotic novel will never come to be. And isn’t that a wonderful thought to die to?
[Congratulations! Congratulations! Congratulations!
“Grand Escape” mission successfully completed! +300 B-points.
“Tragic Separation” event unlocked, +500 B-points.
“Qiu Massacre” event avoided, +20 B-points.]
“—just a child, I thought it was a thief—”
“—‘s dead—….—not wake the Young Master—”
“—throw him in the river.”
Before giving in to the dizzying darkness coaxing him to close his eyes and utterly ignoring the System’s notifications, Shen Yuan’s glassy gaze lifts to a sky glimmering with achingly bright stars.
Not a bad way to die at all.
He wakes up again.
Shen Yuan should not keep being surprised by dying and waking up again. What about eternal slumber, huh? At least if he’s doomed to keep reincarnating endlessly, do the job well and wipe his memory clean! Whoever oversees this is certainly slacking off!
Haven’t three years of working as a slave, surviving in the streets and obeying child traffickers been enough? He’s endured the miserable life of PIDW cannon fodder, and rather graciously! Where’s the sweet void of oblivion?
The rageful tirade of thoughts halts as his life under the child traffickers flashes in his mind. Yes, perhaps he had gone to bed on an empty stomach more than once, but his brother and Qi-ge had always made sure that his jobs were easy enough. Jiu-ge in particular had been awfully protective even with that withering attitude of his, sacrificing his precious food and fetching medicine whenever Shen Yuan’s health failed him.
Shen Jiu is fond of performing a big show of how he was carved of icy jade, unfeeling, when his displays of rough affection only serve to prove he does care (deep down).
His chest throbs as he wonders if they truly got out alright of the whole ordeal.
And even more importantly—where is he?
[Mission unlocked,] The System chirps, google-translate-like voice stirring to life, [Become a Huan Hua Palace Disciple! Explore the second mightiest sect and begin to nurture your cultivation. Free rein except for major plot points activated. Do you accept?
Reward: 100 B-Points]
What’s this? A Huan Hua Palace ad?
He’s still in Proud Demon Immortal Way?
He’s not dead?
System, he prods cautiously, where am I? What happened?
[Do you accept?] It insists, unhelpful. Shen Yuan groans.
Yes, yes, whatever, just give me some answers.
The customary short melody of doom after accepting a new mission rings on Shen Yuan’s mind, who bitterly wonders why the System even deigns to ask for his authorization if there is no way to reject them.
[System may provide information about Host’s whereabouts for a purchase of—]
—no, I don’t think so, you absolute cheapskate! He cuts it off, fuming. He should have known better. At least, judging by how he’s been able to monologue for a few minutes, he should be safe. If he focuses, he even feels warmth all around him, as if wrapped in a cloud.
[Host should open his eyes if he wants to disclose his location.]
Ah.
Blearily, he lifts his eyelids. It’s surprisingly hard. When he manages to open them more than a sliver, a dark wooden ceiling morphs with stretching smiles and silent screams. It’s such a bizarre sight that he blinks owlishly a couple of times, somehow not screeching in fright.
The ceiling stops moving when his eyes focus in a lone carved flower in the corner, sight sharpening with three or more blinks. Moonlight pours from the outside, bathing the bed Shen Yuan is laying in with soft silver light. The room seems ample, but the darkness conceals most of the ornamentation.
“You’re awake?”
Shen Yuan’s soul almost escapes from his body. Instead, he jolts violently, a pang of pain traveling all the way from his shoulders to his feet. He can’t muffle an anguished cry, and it’s only then that he realises how parched his throat is.
The fact that there’s another living, breathing human with him slips from his mind for a solid minute while agony overwhelms him. He’s conveniently reminded of it when a soothing coolness spreads from his right wrist, relieving the ache away.
“Fear not, little one,” coos a soft, female voice, “you’re safe.”
Shen Yuan instinctively believes her, comforted. Shen Jiu’s voice had used to take in the same gentle tessitura whenever a fever wracked over his body and plagued his sleep with nightmares. His limbs sag against the soft mattress, wrist hanging limp from her loose grasp.
He turns his head towards her, half-lidded eyes widening.
Dark eyes stare at him, lips lifted slightly. Two curls of ink-black hair frame a white pearl face, the rest gathered in a high ponytail. The woman, gorgeous beyond words, carries a vague regal air around her.
Shen Yuan can only blink, speechless. The woman’s smile widens marginally.
“There you are,” she whispers, squeezing his hand lightly before letting go. “I’ll go fetch a healer.”
Next thing Shen Yuan knows, he’s holding her sleeve with tiny fingers. The woman freezes, slightly ruffled. He doesn’t know what possessed him, but he honestly—
“—don’t leave,” he mumbles hoarsely, whatever remains of his dignity shrivelling and perishing. He can’t help it, okay? He woke up in a foreign place and the—admittedly pretty—lady was the one who made the pain go away. He’s being perfectly reasonable.
The woman’s delicate features harden after a few seconds of hesitance. “I won’t go, then.”
Shen Yuan’s eyelids seal shut by their own accord before the moon wanes completely, but the woman’s grip doesn’t falter for even a second, and he falls to slumber sated and warm.
The next time he wakes, the sunlight streaming into the room immediately blinds his unguarded eyes. Fortunately, there’s no mysterious woman who he can embarrass himself with, so he tremulously attempts to sit up while blinking out fat tears.
“Where am I?” he rasps out loud, blanket slipping from sore limbs and achingly soft robes. System?
No answer.
Useless piece of junk.
Beyond the gauzy curtains flanking the bed the room is all gold, jade and rich mahogany—luxurious enough to flaunt wealth but just short enough to not be tacky. A grand desk sits beside an equally grand window, scrolls neatly stacked on one corner.
Unease coils in Shen Yuan’s stomach. No matter how beautiful a place is, this is still PDIW! He doesn’t know where he is and has been knocked out for who knows how long! What’s more, the last thing he remembers…
The last thing he remembers…
As if summoned, the doors open without preamble and a woman strides into the room.
Shen Yuan gawks at her. He vaguely recognises her from the other night, but the darkness hadn’t done her any favours. Beneath the glow of the sun, her beauty is akin to a white peony: dainty, but with an underlying strength and majesty. Her robes, ranging from dark yellow to black, only serve to enhance her noble aura.
Shen Yuan has half a mind to cower, but he also harbours the inexplicable feeling that he’s safe.
He hasn’t felt safe for over three years, even while submitting to a dreamless slumber on his brother’s bony shoulder.
“You’re awake,” the woman says, and her demeanour softens marginally, “how are you feeling?”
Shen Yuan dithers. He can only echo the question that’s been ringing on his mind non-stop.
“Where am I?”
“Huan Hua Palace Cultivation Sect,” she answers, crossing the chambers in a couple of steps and sitting beside his bed, close enough to feel comforted and not suffocated. “This one found you drifting in the river with grave wounds and brought you here to be treated. You’ve been here for two full moons.”
Two months? He was unconscious for two months?
“I… was I alone?”
If he was dumped in the river after the guards caught him, there is a high chance that if they happened to catch on Qi-ge and Jiu-ge they did the same to them. But Shen Yuan clearly is the only one who arrived to the Huan Hua Palace.
The woman nods, to his earth-shattering relief. Her hand sits weightless on the mattress. “What’s your name, child?”
“Shen… Yuan,” he coughs, suddenly painfully aware of how dry his throat is. “And yours?”
It crosses his mind that he’s being highly improper, but the lady does not seem to mind. He’s a child, isn’t he? He has to sell the part!
“Su Xiyan.”
“Pretty name,” he blurts out absently, failing to notice how the ghost of a smile lifts Su Xiyan’s lips.
The name echoes in his mind, oddly familiar. Huan Hua Palace… not a lot of characters from there feature in the novel more than a forgotten line in x chapter, and Shen Yuan isn’t too good at remembering those. She must be a slightly plot-relevant character. Maybe one of the wives Luo Binghe acquired in passing alongside the Little Palace Mistress and the Qin sisters?
“Then I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, A-Yuan. I shall go fetch a physician now. Your body must not…” Su Xiyan’s voice falls into static as his gaze raises to the information box floating over her head. The System’s voice drones on his head.
[Su Xiyan. Huan Hua Palace’s Head Disciple. Future mother of the protagonist, Luo Binghe.]
Luo Binghe’s birth mother?!
THE Luo Binghe’s birth mother?! The one that was the precious disciple of the Old Palace Master, gave birth to her son in shady circumstances and then disappeared off the face of the earth?!
“…A-Yuan? Shen Yuan? Are you listening to me?”
He responds calmly, screeching internally. “This one was just wondering… what will happen to me? When will I have to leave?”
Shen Yuan is so getting his ass out of here. He doesn’t want to touch this mess even at arm’s length. Everyone knows that none of the male disciples in Huan Hua Palace survive Luo Binghe’s siege! Nevermind he was planning on going to Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, at least there he had a chance of hugging the protagonist’s golden thighs and change the plot!
[System reminds Host of pending mission: Become Huan Hua Palace’s Disciple! Uncompletion will result in the withdrawal of 5,000 B-Points.]
Why didn’t you say so before? He bellows to the void of his mind.
The System expectedly doesn’t answer, except for two smug beats. Shen Yuan has never felt so murderous.
“I swear on my position as Head Disciple, no one will force you to leave,” Su Xiyan says, magnanimous and woefully ignorant of Shen Yuan yelling profanities in his head, “but you do owe a debt of gratitude to me and Huan Hua Palace. The only reason you did not succumb to your injuries and we could treat you is due to your high affinity with cultivations techniques. So I ask you, Shen Yuan, will you become a Huan Hua Palace disciple?”
“A cultivation… disciple…” he crows a little in amazement, previous ire cooling away, because. Well. Shen Yuan is first and foremost a nerd. What kind of web novel geek hasn’t dreamt of this?
Even if it’s not the renowned Cang Qiong Mountain, Huan Hua is no pushover. Perhaps Shen Yuan can figure out something.
He can even find Qi-ge and Jiu-ge again if they do arrive safely to Cang Qiong. The thought perks him up.
Su Xiyan nods, steely eyes melting into mercury.
“Yes. Whatever A-Yuan’s background is, with this sect’s teachings he can become a righteous cultivator.”
“Will I fly in a sword?” The question slips out rather meekly. Su Xiyan smiles, face softening and sunlight hitting her just so that her glossy curls glow like a golden halo. She looks so dazzling that Shen Yuan gasps minutely.
“Yes. And A-Yuan will learn many other techniques in due time. But first, he should see the physician. And when he’s completely recovered, he will be presented to the Palace Master to start his training.”
Shen Yuan tightens his hands in tiny fists, gripping the blanket like a lifeline.
“I… I accept then,” he rasps out, “but first, ah, can I… drink some water?”