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In all the years Luo Binghe has been at Qing Jing Peak, he’s never really understood. He doesn’t know why it’s like this or how it started, but after years of torment he knows that it’s true:
His shizun hates him. For sure.
Ever since that first day Luo Binghe met Shen Qingqiu, the day when his shizun poured a cup of hot tea on his head by way of introduction, Luo Binghe has been trying to salvage the situation. He makes excuses. He tells himself that he deserves the treatment he receives because he’s weak and needs to get stronger. He doesn’t know the right things to say, the right ways to act. He doesn’t come from a well-established family like the other disciples. He has no background at all. He’s the odd one out. Hobbling along on whatever he can glean about scholarly matters while everyone else came here ready to run.
Shizun is right to treat him harshly! Luo Binghe has a lot to learn!
But it’s just…
Well, let’s talk about fairness. To begin with, Shen Qingqiu showed Luo Binghe the greatest kindness when he plucked him from the dirt and named him as a disciple. He’s the only peak lord who made an offer! If Shen Qingqiu hadn’t chosen him, then Luo Binghe would have had nowhere to go except back to the street. Scraping by. Stealing for a living, or worse. So that one act of kindness makes Luo Binghe indebted to Shen Qingqiu for life!
End of story!
Shen Qingqiu sees something in him. Luo Binghe can sense that. Some kind of hidden skill. Why else would he choose Luo Binghe to fight against that demon in a contest of skill? He believes in him! He must! After the fight, Shen Qingqiu gave Ning Yingying medicine and implied that it was meant for Luo Binghe. So he had medicine sent to him! In his own roundabout way; since Shizun is a man that does not let his feelings be easily known. On the outside, Shizun is cold, compassionless, and discriminating. But on the inside…
Luo Binghe knows Shen Qingqiu cares about him. He just knows it! He feels it in his gut, in his very soul.
So then why…why does Shen Qingqiu always act like he hates him? Why did he spend years tying him up in the woodshed and beating him? During training, why does he always hit Luo Binghe’s shins twice as hard as he does the other disciples, checking their stances? Why do his eyes narrow over the ridge of his fan whenever he looks in Luo Binghe’s direction? Why do those eyes, those beautiful onyx eyes, sear him with bitterness? And barely disguised contempt?
Why?
Over the years, Luo Binghe has stopped asking why. He may never know what’s in his shizun’s heart and he has to accept that. He knows he should stop being ungrateful by questioning his shizun’s motives. It’s not about fairness! Not every disciple in a sect will be treated the same way. That’s just natural.
Besides, the reasons are irrelevant. The question now is…how to mitigate his shizun’s hatred?
How can Luo Binghe prove that he is a loyal, filial, dedicated disciple? That he is here in this sect for two reasons: 1) To better himself as a cultivator and 2) To benefit Shen Qingqiu, as thanks for choosing him as a disciple. That’s it. Those are the two things Luo Binghe wants in life.
He knows that his shizun is not a bad person. It doesn’t matter what anyone says (behind whispered hands) about Shen Qingqiu’s visits to the brothels, or his open disdain for Luo Binghe. Or the competitiveness in duels that others call ‘catty.’ It doesn’t matter! Shizun is (secretly, only when he’s sure no one is watching) a kindhearted person.
Luo Binghe has proof.
He spotted Shen Qingqiu being kind to Ning Yingying.
Once, Ning Yingying hurt her hand during practice. Her palm strike used too much qi and she was blown backwards. Shen Qingqiu called her out in front of the group and summoned her to his private quarters. Everyone thought he would reprimand her cruelly, or perhaps that he might take advantage of her (his reputation as a brothel-goer was well-known in the sect). Luo Binghe worried for Ning Yingying and secretly followed them. He watched through a crack in the door to make sure she was safe. (He trusted Shizun, of course, but he couldn’t allow his shijie to be hurt or put in a compromising position, no matter what.)
What he saw that day cemented his opinion of his shizun.
Shen Qingqiu sat Ning Yingying down in his study and carefully cleaned her wound. He ran some healing qi over the bruised bones and bandaged it for her. Ning Yingying was teary-eyed the whole time, thanking him for his kindness. Offering apologies again and again for being so foolish.
“Not at all,” Shen Qingqiu told her. “Injuries like this are a normal part of training. But our Yingying should be careful not to put herself in harm’s way from now on. Alright?”
“Yes, Shizun,” she replied. Bowing low.
Then she surprised them both by getting up on her knees and wrapping Shen Qingqiu in a hug. Extremely inappropriate! She pressed him close, chasing away her tears by holding her shizun in a way no other disciple would dare dream of. Certainly Shen Qingqiu would push her away! He hates being touched, anyone could tell you that (he squirms away from handshakes and pats on the shoulders from the other peak lords, even Yue Qingyuan). Softly clicking his teeth in irritation.
Instead, Shen Qingqiu let her hug him. He froze, not returning the gesture, but definitely not reeling away in disgust! Then, after a moment, he gently helped her back into a sitting position. Touching only her elbows.
“It’s alright, Ning-mei. Go back and join the others,” he told her quietly. In the softest tone Luo Binghe ever heard him use.
Nodding, no longer crying, now happily beaming, Ning Yingying leapt to her feet and dashed towards the door. Luo Binghe had to scramble away so he wouldn’t be caught.
That moment will be forever burned in his memory. A moment of genuine compassion, of understanding, gentleness, and encouragement from his shizun. The rumors must be wrong, Luo Binghe concludes; Shen Qingqiu was not untoward at all! He forthrightly took care of a disciple. As any shizun would! After that, Luo Binghe gladly joins Ning Yingying’s side when she defends Shen Qingqiu against any uncouth rumors whispered in the dining halls.
Shen Qingqiu is a good person. He’s a good teacher. A mentor. And an incredible fighter.
Remembering that moment between Shen Qingqiu and Ning Yingying makes the mistreatment and belittlement somewhat easier to take. Luo Binghe regards his shizun over cupped hands, hiding a smile of endearment in his heart. Calmly agreeing to whatever punishment Shen Qingqiu has planned for him.
Yes, it’s true that Shen Qingqiu is catty. At least those rumors check out. Luo Binghe’s shizun is just like a cat! Towards a hand that he doesn’t trust or doesn’t like, Shen Qingqiu will not hesitate to hiss, growl, scratch or even bite. But to a hand that he likes…
Luo Binghe often wonders. What would Shen Qingqiu do with a person that doesn’t get his back up? How would he react to a gesture completely devoid of malice, without any ill intention? Would Shen Qingqiu even be able to withstand such a thing?
Luo Binghe knows something about cats. In his childhood, there was a calico cat that lived in the crawlspace of an abandoned house near the shack where Luo Binghe was raised. The cat was miserable. It was missing an eye as well as a huge chunk of its tail, seemingly the result of abuse. The other village children liked to tease the cat. Years ago they’d managed to do some serious damage to it. As a result, the cat growled ominously when anyone went near the abandoned house. Emitting this echoing sound of hatred, a promise of pain should anyone dare to come close.
Luo Binghe dared. He felt sorry for the cat (and kindred in a way; the other children bullied him too). So one day he saved some dried fish from his meal (his mother could only manage to give him a small handful to begin with) and left it by the crawlspace. It wasn’t much. Just a few flakes. But the cat took it. It crawled out slowly, eyeing its surroundings to make sure no one was around. It quickly showed its appetite and devoured the fish. The poor thing must have been starving! After a few more days of this, Luo Binghe took it upon himself to approach the cat, fish in hand, to offer it some more.
And yes, the cat hissed at him. Growled, spit. But when it saw the fish, it inched forward on its belly. Its one eye was wide and wary. It took some time (even a few scratches), but when the cat saw that Luo Binghe wasn’t going away and that he wasn’t planning on harming it in any way, the creature ate the fish from his fingers. It even let Luo Binghe pet it! Its fur, though matted, was soft and pretty.
In no time at all, Luo Binghe had that cat eating out of the palm of his hand.
He took care of it; saving scraps from his meals to feed it. Eventually, the cat followed Luo Binghe home. It lived near their shack, all the way until his mother died. Then it went off on its own as Luo Binghe had.
He thinks of that cat often. Especially when he looks at his shizun and thinks of the gentle way he treats Ning Yingying. Shen Qingqiu has been showing Luo Binghe his claws for years.
But what would it take to get him to purr?
It won’t be an easy task. Luo Binghe knows that Shen Qingqiu hates most people. In particular, people of his own gender. Shen Qingqiu shows open contempt for the other male peak lords. He constantly bickers with Liu Qingge, he’s immune to the likability of Yue Qingyuan, and he won’t even spare Shang Qinghua a second glance! If he’s anything like that calico cat, then he’s learned to despise what’s hurt him in the past. Of course Luo Binghe doesn’t know the details, but he can piece together the general picture.
Thus, since Luo Binghe is a man, he has his work cut out for him. But that’s no reason to abandon the idea! He owes Shen Qingqiu his life, his future! He should work hard to give his shizun a moment of peace. Something he really needs.
So what does Shen Qingqiu really need?
Luo Binghe gets an idea when he sees the fight that causes Shen Qingqiu to go into seclusion. Only a handful of disciples are in attendance. It is a public duel, but not many people are allowed to watch (at the peak lord’s behest). Most will get the details through word of mouth. But Luo Binghe is there.
He watches the beautiful way his shizun fights. Dodging attacks, back straight, face hidden behind his fan. Using the barest of spiritual energy to counter the first dozen moves. Shen Qingqiu is really amazing! People call him a show-off, and he is, but what’s the harm when he has so much to be proud of! Such elegance and grace! People must be jealous when they see the incomparable beauty of Shen Qingqiu’s martial prowess, which is why they malign him.
Then, in the middle of the fight, Shen Qingqiu starts to cough. He coughs once, then twice, then he’s sputtering in a fit. His opponent stops and asks if he wants to keep going.
“I’m fine, it’s fine,” Shen Qingqiu asserts. Snapping his fan shut and straightening his shoulders. “Continue.”
It doesn’t take long before Shen Qingqiu falters again. He draws his sword, but he’s on the defensive. Visibly fighting back against wracking coughs that make his shoulders heave. After a particularly forceful strike, which Shen Qingqiu just barely manages to block, a line of blood spurts from his mouth.
He falls to his knees.
“That’s enough!” Yue Qingyuan announces. Leaping in the middle to put an end to the fight. “This is not a duel to the death. And Shen-zongzhu is clearly injured.”
“How did he get injured?” the disciples wonder aloud. Whispering amongst each other. “What happened to Shizun?”
The fight ends with Shen Qingqiu as the obvious loser. It’s a difficult defeat, but not when you consider the possibility that he was shouldering some secret injuries.
Of course, Shen Qingqiu doesn’t see it that way.
When Yue Qingyuan tries to help him to his feet, Shen Qingqiu angrily shoves his hands away. “Get away from me,” he hisses. A particularly bad display of un-lord-like attitude, in front of the disciples no less.
“Of course, Shidi,” Yue Qingyuan says. Backing away to a safe distance. Saving some of his shidi’s face. Which it seems the man doesn’t have a lot of.
Shen Qingqiu struggles to stand with difficulty. He coughs again and bends over at the waist. Spitting up more blood.
“It looks serious…” the disciples speculate. Several of them run over to help him.
“Enough, all of you!” Shen Qingqiu yells. Wiping the blood from his mouth. “Go ack and work on your forms! Until I say stop!”
Hastily agreeing, the disciples scatter. Luo Binghe joins them, sparing a last glance at his shizun. He really doesn’t look well. He’s pale and his hands are shaking. Barely strong enough to hold a sword.
While the disciples go through form after form, well into dark, well past the point of exhaustion, Luo Binghe’s mind works furiously. Spinning and spinning. Is Shizun sick? He hasn’t looked especially sick recently! But it’s been years since anyone last saw him fight. Is Shizun…really that weak? What could have happened to make him so weak? He’s reached the level of mid-core formation at least, so how are these serious side effects possible?
How long has Shizun been struggling?
Luo Binghe is worried.
That night, Yue Qingyuan comes to tell the disciples that Shen Qingqiu has entered seclusion (mercifully putting an end to their ceaseless formation practice). He doesn’t have a lot of details, but he says that he will taking over their instruction while Shen Qingqiu is away.
The disciples buzz about this. Is this seclusion a way to spare his pride until news of his defeat blows over? Is Shizun meditating to heal himself? Is he working on new techniques to grow his cultivation even more?
No one knows. In any case, Shen Qingqiu is away for three months.
During that time, Luo Binghe does as much research as he can. He’s not very studious by nature, but if it’s to help Shizun then he can put his mind to anything! Luo Binghe spends all his free time in the libraries looking for conditions that could be ailing Shen Qingqiu based on the symptoms he presents. It could possibly be a fissure in the spiritual core, or a core that is generally weak to begin with. Or a body that is weak to the point that it cannot sustain the spiritual pressure necessary to cultivate its fullest potential.
Shen Qingqiu often appears pale. His wrists are slender, as is the rest of him presumably. But other than that he shows no signs of weakness. How could this be? What’s wrong with Shen Qingqiu’s spiritual core?
Although Luo Binghe can’t know the reason, he researches ways to cure the malady regardless. Unfortunately, most texts say there is no cure. The only thing possible is to mitigate the side effects. Which seems easy enough. Largely, the methods have to do with taking good care of the body. A nutritious diet, regular meditation, and frequent rest.
It begs the question: Is Shizun taking care of himself? He eats so little! Is the food at Cang Qiong peak not to his liking?
Maybe Luo Binghe should be in charge of making Shizun’s meals from now on. He studies the culinary arts, devising ways to make delicious food that is packed with nutrients. He must also make sure Shizun is sleeping properly. He attentively researches the best teas and supplements for good sleep. There’s not much difference between cooking, cultivating, and tea brewing. All of these things require a grace that Luo Binghe is learning to perfect.
He hopes Shizun will like it. Even if he can’t appreciate the disciple it comes from, the results should help his body all the same.
And wouldn’t it be wonderful to see his Shizun relax. To finally let down his guard, retract his claws, and allow himself to curl up for a good rest.
What a lovely thought.
Luo Binghe reads and reads. Discovering the most effective techniques in the book.
Now he’s excited for Shizun to come out of seclusion.
________________________________
The day Shen Qingqiu returns, the disciples at Qing Jing peak throw him a welcome-back dinner. Nothing extravagant. Just a nice dinner with plenty of music and food. The day falls in that period between the mid-autumn festival and winter solstice, so people must be looking for a reason to celebrate. Celebrating a lord as unliked as Shen Qingqiu is a bit of a stretch.
Still, the mood is pleasant. Luo Binghe sits with Ning Yingying and tries to enjoy the festivities. In truth, he’s only half-listening to the performances. Half-participating. His real focus is Shen Qingqiu. His eyes follow him the whole time.
Naturally, Shen Qingqiu is a terrible party guest. He barely even thanks the disciples who planned the thing. Just nods and bows, picking at maybe one or two of the dishes. Hardly filling his plate. He doesn’t clap for the performances. He doesn’t even appear to be paying attention. That’s probably because…
Several times throughout the night, Shen Qingqiu’s fingers fly up to his temple. Massaging the pressure points. He hides his face behind his fan, but from his vantage point Luo Binghe can see his grimace. Is he in pain? Does he suffer from migraines?
The books in the library did mention that people with conditions like his often have a variety of recurring ailments. Headaches, fatigue. Loss of appetite. Also, Shen Qingqiu is a drinker. He downs cup after cup of plum wine. That can’t be good for his headaches! (The real question is: how is he not passed out drunk by now? Apparently alcohol is the one thing his system can withstand. Probably because of his drinking habit, spurious and secret as it is.)
Luo Binghe watches.
And watches.
He doesn’t touch a drop of alcohol, nor does he retire when the other disciples begin to disperse. He’s too busy! Collecting data on Shizun. Discovering that Shen Qingqiu has a taste for pork dishes, often neglecting the vegetables that go with. Hmm. Luo Binghe will have to devise a way to get Shizun to eat his vegetables! If he packs them into a dumpling alongside some pork, maybe he won’t notice as much.
Inside Luo Binghe’s mind is a rich fantasy world. He’s already begun studying under the dream master demon. He’s learning that reality is malleable. The internal landscape is vast! Much more important.
If he can imagine a world where Shen Qingqiu can sense his loyalty, appreciate his gestures, then. Then surely he can make that dream a reality! Not just when he’s asleep, either.
Luo Binghe can get it done. He’ll show Shizun. He’ll take the best care of him that anyone ever could! He’ll be the most loving, attentive disciple in the world.
He really wants to be that for him. Because Shen Qingqiu saved him first by taking him in. So why shouldn’t Luo Binghe give him everything?
That night, Luo Binghe follows Shen Qingqiu back to his rooms. The peak lord is drunk, but hiding it well. He makes his goodbyes (brief and entirely underwhelming, since gratitude and propriety are not his strong points) and treks back to his quarters with one hand behind his back. To his credit, he only stumbles once. He quickly looks around to make sure no one saw it happen.
Luo Binghe saw. But he is carefully concealed by a tree. So Shen Qingqiu doesn’t notice him (he must be very drunk indeed not to sense his disciple’s spiritual pressure.)
When he finally makes it back, Shen Qingqiu enters his rooms and closes the door with a loud snap. The night is quiet. Softly cool. Wind rustles between the trees and everything is dark. Luo Binghe stands at his shizun’s door. Waiting a few cursory minutes.
He knows what he heard. And he’s right. The door is not locked.
Luo Binghe opens the door a crack and peeks inside. Sure enough, Shen Qingqiu is collapsed on his bed. Still wearing both his outer and inner robes. Only one shoe removed. His hair is still done up in its usual style, he didn’t even take out the guan! He’s a mess. Already passed out, looking like he barely made it to the bed.
Poor Shizun. He must be in serious pain to resort to drinking so much. Whether it’s physical pain or mental pain, it doesn’t matter. He must be hurting.
Luo Binghe’s heart aches for his shizun. Dealing with so much suffering all on his own! He never has visitors. Never invites other people over for tea. He spends most of his time entirely alone. Save his trips to the brothels! Which hardly seem out of the ordinary when held up against a lonely life like this. Purity and abstinence are one thing, but dismal solitude? How does that help one’s cultivation?
Shaking his head, Luo Binghe carefully removes his shizun’s shoes. He places them next to the bed. Then, he takes a blanket from the closet (bolder than he’s ever been, moving freely around this place) and drapes it over Shen Qingqiu’s body. Heaven forbid Shizun catch cold! He’s facing enough health problems as it is!
He thinks about removing the guan. His unruly hands hover over Shizun’s head…but that’s a step too far. Shizun would be scandalized to know that he was touched without consent. Even if it’s for an innocuous reason, Luo Binghe won’t allow it to happen. He’s done enough.
There will be other chances.
So Luo Binghe leaves. Before he goes back to his own rooms, he leaves a pouch of soft, chewable medicine by the door. With a note that reads: ‘Good for hangovers.’ Unsigned, since Shizun would probably throw them away if he knew Luo Binghe made them. If it’s anonymous, Shen Qingqiu might actually eat them. And the note isn’t a lie! The medicine is made from oranges, ginger, and specific herbal ingredients. More akin to candy. The pills taste great and they really do help with headaches and nausea!
Shizun will need these tomorrow.
With that, Luo Binghe scurries off. Back to the woodshed where he has lain his head for the past several years.
The following day, during practice, Shizun comes to check on the disciples as always. On first glance, he is as indifferent as ever. But Luo Binghe catches him sneaking something into his mouth behind his fan. When Shizun walks over to check his stance, Luo Binghe can smell his breath. Orange and ginger.
He can’t stop himself from smiling.
“What’s that gormless grin for?” Shen Qingqiu raps his fan against Luo Binghe’s ribs. Correcting his stance. “Focus!”
“Yes, Shizun.”
Moving through the stances is easy after that. He has happiness in his heart! Shizun ate the candies Luo Binghe made and now he’s feeling well enough to go out and berate the disciples! (On a typical hangover day, Shen Qingqiu won’t leave his rooms until nearly dinnertime.)
All is well. It’s a wonderful first step.
________________________
The next night, Luo Binghe shows up on Shen Qingqiu’s doorstep with a tray and bamboo steamer. He’s ready. He’s thought this through.
He’s confident.
He knocks on the door.
“Who is it?” Of course it’s very rare for Shen Qingqiu to have visitors. Especially at this time of night. It’s already past dinnertime.
“Just this lowly disciple.” Luo Binghe bows his head, even though the door is still closed. “He has something for Shizun.”
A quiet exclamation (a crude curse, in truth). Then a few stomps, and suddenly the door is swinging open. Shen Qingqiu stands there fully dressed (he has not gotten ready for sleep yet, he’s still wearing his clothes from the day). But, for once, his fan is missing. It’s a notable absence.
At any moment, fireballs are about to shoot from his eyes. He wears a look to match. “You?!” he spits. “What on earth are you doing here? Now, of all times?”
Luo Binghe holds up the tray. “This disciple brought some food for Shizun. I noticed you didn’t eat much at dinner. Was the food not to your liking?” For the first time ever, he offers Shen Qingqiu a soft smile. “That’s alright. I made you something else.”
Shen Qingqiu is horrified. His mouth is twisted in a gruesome shape and there is a white rim around his irises, where his eyes have stretched open. “Wh-what…? You…? What….?”
He doesn’t know how to take this. What to say. That’s understandable considering their unfamiliar relationship, but it’s the first time Luo Binghe has ever seen him at such a loss for words.
He is, in a word, cute. Shizun is so cute!
“Look, Shizun,” Luo Binghe opens the steamer, revealing some braised spare ribs. Soaked in juice, just the way Shen Qingqiu likes them. “I made you ribs. Would Shizun like to try these?”
“I…” Shen Qingqiu blinks hard. “What is this? Who told you to go into the kitchens and waste food? I never asked for this!”
Luo Binghe calmly shakes his head. “It’s not a waste. It’s for Shizun. No one in the kitchens said anything. They just let me in.” That part is true. For some reason, the women in the kitchens let Luo Binghe do anything. All he has to do is flash them a smile. It’s very convenient.
“They…” Now Shen Qingqiu’s eyes are narrowed in suspicion. “They—” He’s probably about to say something else, but he’s rudely interrupted by a loud gurgling sound.
His own stomach. The smell of the ribs must have reached his nose.
Hiding a smile, Luo Binghe holds the tray out to him. Offering it freely.
A shy pink blush spreads across Shizun’s nose. His ears are red too. Embarrassment! What a thing to see on Shizun’s face! Luo Binghe hopes—he wishes Shizun knew he didn’t have to be embarrassed with him. Since he did all of this for him! No one else!
That blush is also very cute, though.
“Just…just leave it there. And go.” Shen Qingqiu slowly closes the door on him.
Of course he wants the ribs, but taking them from Luo Binghe’s hands would mean that he’s accepted a gift from him. Shen Qingqiu’s pride is so flimsy he can’t even do that! So he shuts the door and waits for his disciple to follow his directions.
But Luo Binghe hears that Shizun has not walked away. He’s just standing there on the other side of the door. Waiting.
The calico cat used to do this, too. Growling from underneath the crawlspace. Waiting for Luo Binghe to leave the food and go on his way. So that it could come out to eat when the coast was clear.
That was a few dried fish flakes though. This is a full meal, with tea that has yet to be poured. Besides, the technique Luo Binghe studied requires him to be there in person. There is a personal element to this. Which he is happy to provide.
“I’m sorry, Shizun, I can’t leave the tea pot here,” he lies. “I promised Ning Yingying I’d bring it back to her tomorrow morning. She’ll worry if it goes missing…”
“I’ll give it to her,” Shen Qingqiu says from the other side of the door.
“I can’t do that either. She said it has to be me who returns it, otherwise she’ll worry that something happened. Shijie always gets so worked up before I can explain things properly. I don’t want Shijie to be upset—”
With a loud click, the door opens. Shen Qingqiu is not there. He’s already sitting at the low table in his bedroom. Fan out. Face safely hidden.
It’s not an invitation, but it’s the closest Luo Binghe will ever get. Rising to his feet, he enters Shizun’s private quarters and closes the door behind him. Careful not to track any dirt over the threshold.
This is where Shizun sleeps! Such special place, obviously upscale. Minimally but tastefully decorated. The main hallway is clean, but the side rooms…a glance inside shows Luo Binghe that many of these rooms are not clean. Old clothes lay haphazardly everywhere. Does Shizun not know how to pick up after himself? Or does he just not want to?
Either way, just being here…! Luo Binghe’s heart is racing! He’s exhilarated. The only disciple allowed in here is Ning Yingying. Luo Binghe is the second! That’s a record in and of itself. (Of course that spiel about the tea pot was all lies. Yes, this is Ning Yingying’s kettle, but she doesn’t give a fig for it. She gave it to Luo Binghe without sparing a second glance, absorbed in the task of copying some talisman designs for a spell she’s been working on.)
“Many thanks for the hospitality, Shizun,” Luo Binghe sets the tray down on the table and gets comfortable on his knees. He lays out the cup (he only brought one) in front of Shen Qingqiu.
The sound of tea pouring into a cup is a unique and pleasant sound. Natural like running spring water, but warmer. Homely. Luo Binghe makes sure to take his time with the pouring. Each one of his movements is slow and deliberate. After all, Shizun is watching him behind his fan.
So the technique has already started.
When Luo Binghe speaks again, his voice is halfway between a whisper and a sigh. Low. Audible, but very gentle. He’s practiced this voice to himself many times, so he’s perfected it by now. “The tea has special properties,” he explains in a tone as delicate as fresh snow, but dark and damp like the night. “I put a supplement in here that should help you sleep.”
“Tch.” Shen Qingqiu snaps his fan closed in irritation. “I don’t need supplements. Besides, it…” He trails off, not finishing his sentence. His eyes cut away.
“Hm?” Luo Binghe lays out the plate of beef. Offering his shizun a set of chopsticks with a gentle click against the porcelain plate.
Huffing in aggravation, Shen Qingqiu snatches the chopsticks and starts eating. He takes a tiny, minuscule bite, as if testing whether it’s poisoned. Whatever he tastes, it meets his standards. He takes another bite and another. Before long, he’s chowing down on the plate with gusto.
Good. At least now Shizun has something in his stomach.
But, he still looks hungry. In some way. The shadows from the lamplight hang around his face, giving him a gaunt appearance. His wrists are thinner than ever. Shizun must have lost weight in seclusion.
If he goes on like this, living the way he does, Shizun will turn into a hungry ghost one of these days. What a senseless fate!
“Is the pork to your liking?” Luo Binghe picks up the tea cup and, while he’s talking, quietly drums his fingernails against the porcelain. Producing a gentle, rhythmic tapping sound.
Shen Qingqiu nods. To be clear, he swallows the food in his mouth and says unequivocally, “Yes.”
A nice strong reaction. After all, the food in Cang Qiong Peak is nothing noteworthy. According to Luo Binghe’s observations, Shizun hardly ever eats a decent meal at dinnertime. He must really like it! So much that he forgot himself and who he’s with, in a display of honesty.
Which is exactly what Luo Binghe wants right now. To erase the contentiousness between them. The hatred he’s never been able to explain.
“I’m glad to hear it,” he says. Holding out the tea cup. “This disciple can make ribs for Shizun whenever he wants.” Whenever the kitchens have meat, that is. For a while, he’ll have to make do with pork in congee. But that’s fine. Luo Binghe makes a wonderful congee!
Shen Qingqiu eyes him warily over his chopsticks. He licks his lips, chasing the taste of the sauce, then wipes his mouth. Setting down the cutlery. Suddenly serious.
“Who told you I take nighttime supplements?” He’s not looking at Luo Binghe when he talks. Apparently there’s something interesting in the table. Or else, he’s just embarrassed.
Luo Binghe shakes his head. His hair makes a soft swishing sound as it brushes his shoulders. “No one. I merely guessed that you did.”
“How.” Shen Qingqiu doesn’t seem convinced.
“Well, there were several clues…” Luo Binghe blows on the tea. Sending the smoke and the soporific scent Shizun’s way. “For one, Shizun always has trouble meeting the disciples for the early morning practices. I also noticed how Shizun has black and blue marks under his eyes almost every day, signs of severe lack of sleep. Another thing, I often see candlelight burning in the windows of Shizun’s residence well after hours. Suggesting that perhaps Shizun is up all night. In addition, I saw—”
Cutting him off, Shen Qingqiu slams his hand on the table with a sudden bang. Trying (but ultimately failing) to break the mood. “Enough! Impudence! Who told you to watch me so closely? Have you nothing better to do with your time? How about you chop wood from dawn to dusk, that should keep you busy! And when you’re not chopping you can run laps—”
“Okay, Shizun,” Luo Binghe replies. Interrupting Shen Qingqiu in return. “I can do all that if you want. But first, won’t you try this tea I prepared? It’s very good. You won’t taste the supplement at all.”
Shen Qingqiu rears back in shock. Luo Binghe has certainly never talked back to him before! Speaking over him! Ignoring his words with impunity! For a moment, it genuinely looks like Shen Qingqiu doesn’t recognize the man in front of him. He raises his pointer finger and performs a quick incantation; an unmasking spell. To remove the disguise from someone wearing another’s skin or magicking themselves to appear a certain way.
Of course, the spell has no effect. This is Luo Binghe after all. The real him.
Smiling, Luo Binghe places the cup in Shen Qingqiu’s hand. Ignoring the way his shizun flinches when he’s touched. He wonders, vaguely, when was the last time Shen Qinggiu was touched. The man actively avoids touch at all costs. Maybe it’s different with his women in the red light district? But if that’s true then…why does Shen Qingqiu look so scandalized from just a casual brush of fingers against his hand?
Clearing his throat awkwardly, Shen Qingqiu raises the cup to his nose. He sniffs. The scent of the tea is floral (blue tiger lilies and baby’s breath, symbolized a night sky full of clouds). The supplement inside is tasteless and scentless, but its effects are extremely potent. Shen Qingqiu bounces his eyebrows in surprise. He probably doesn’t detect anything unusual in the tea.
Shaking his head, he sets the cup down on the table. (At least he didn’t pour the tea over Luo Binghe’s head this time!) “Well, no matter what you put in here, it’s useless. Supplements don’t work on me.” There’s a rueful smile on his lips. Making him look swarthy.
Luo Binghe opens the second layer of the steamer. In here are some almond biscuits. He’s learned, as much as Shizun might try to hide it, that Shen Qingqiu also has a sizable sweet tooth. The plum wine never stays around for long when Shen Qingqiu is in attendance. Nor do the lotus paste buns or the milk candies.
The cookies, fresh from the steamer, are crispy along the bottom and soft in the middle. Very warm. Like they just came out of the oven. Luo Binghe sets the plate down in front of him and watches his shizun’s eyes widen.
“I’m sorry that Shizun hasn’t been able to find a supplement that works for him.” Luo Binghe’s angelically sweet voice dips low in sympathy. “But I hope he’ll still try my tea. It goes especially well with these cookies.”
Shen Qingqiu frowns. He glances between Luo Binghe and the cookies several times. He reaches out to take one, hesitant as if the biscuits might turn into tiny snapping creatures if he’s not careful. When he finally allows himself a bite, his eyes close in pleasure. A small moan of satisfaction escapes his lips before he has the chance to get a lid on the sound.
Inside his heart, Luo Binghe is rejoicing! What an adorable little sound! So very close to a cat’s purr—he must, must drag that sound out of Shizun one more time! An infinite number of times!
Miraculous. His bright glee shows in his eyes. But it’s not malevolent in any way. Luo Binghe just looks…happy.
Shen Qingqiu is red from his scalp down to his neck. If there was any question whether his disciple heard his little moan, that has been answered by the look on Luo Binghe’s face. No hiding it. He’s been found out.
Brightening even more, unhindered by his shizun’s shame, Luo Binghe nudges the plate closer to him. “Please enjoy them, Shizun. Eat as many as you like.”
Shen Qingqiu blinks rapidly. Looking like he’s fighting something on the inside. A feeling he’s not used to. Could it be gratitude? Or appreciation? Has he finally realized that Luo Binghe is a filial disciple? Has he finally allowed himself to accept thoughtfulness as genuine expression of care?
As if in answer to those questions, Shen Qingqiu brings the tea to his lips at last. He takes a little sip, hot liquid slurping into his mouth with quiet relish.
Now Luo Binghe has to remind himself to relax. He’s just so damn happy that Shizun actually drank it! That he’s enjoying all this!
If Shizun likes this, Luo Binghe can do even more.
“How does it taste?” he asks, surreptitiously inching closer to Shen Qingqiu.
Saying nothing, Shen Qingqiu takes another sip. Then another. Eventually he says, “The taste is…passable.” Another sip. “Very full. Too robust for my liking, but it’s…not unpleasant…”
His voice starts to trail off. Each blink of his eyes gets slower and slower…
The sleep supplement is quite fast-acting.
“Oh. What is…?” Confused, eyelids growing heavy, Shen Qingqiu drops the cup and touches a hand to his forehead.
Luo Binghe is ready. He situates himself behind Shen Qingqiu. Ready to catch him as his body starts to sway.
“It’s alright, Shizun,” Luo Binghe whispers. Right against his ear. “The supplement works quickly. This is the expected reaction. Let’s get you to bed, alright?”
“Nnh…did…? Nnnnh…” Shen Qingqiu looks like he has a lot to say, but he’s unable to get the words out. His chin is dropping and he can barely keep himself in a sitting position. He’s can’t keep his eyes open for longer than a moment.
Holding onto his elbows, Luo Binghe helps him to his feet. For once, Shen Qingqiu offers no retort. He holds onto Luo Binghe’s arms for support and hobbles the three or four steps to the bed.
“Easy, easy,” Luo Binghe murmurs. Encouraging his shizun to lay down gently. Not to jar his senses.
Once Shen Qingqiu is laying down, a fair amount of power seems to slide out of his limbs. He breathes out a long sigh. Enjoying the feel of the bed against his back. His hands drop uselessly to his sides. He looks very, very comfortable.
Yet he’s still not asleep. He’s blinking slowly, looking up at Luo Binghe with clouded, confused eyes. There’s aggrieved wariness on his face. He recognizes that the power dynamic between them has shifted. The supplement (perhaps Luo Binghe made it a tad too strong, he just thought since Shizun’s insomnia was so severe…) has rendered him helpless. Luo Binghe could do anything to him right now. Shen Qingqiu is aware of that, even in his half-asleep state.
The pained coldness in his eyes tells the whole story. He recognizes himself as the loser in whatever this is. And that loss hurts him, but he doesn’t seem to expect any outcome other than this. Being reduced to this point. As if this is the fate a loser deserves. Whatever cruelties Luo Binghe can cook up.
He couldn’t be more wrong. The only thing Luo Binghe wants is…
His soul rings with answering pain. Because of their connection as master and disciple, Shen Qingqiu’s pain is mirrored on Luo Binghe’s face. That disciple wishes he could wipe away that look with a gentle sweep of his hand—
So he does. Remembering the techniques he learned from the books, Luo Binghe parts Shen Qingqiu’s hair away from his face. Gaining more access to his forehead. He observes the way Shen Qingqiu shivers as a result. That must be…
The autonomous sensory meridian response. Does it feel good? Is it relaxing? Everything he’s read says it is. A nice tingling sensation that branches out from the meridians on the scalp, across the face and the neck, down to the shoulders and the spine. Everywhere. Judging by the shaky way Shizun breathes, the trembling of his lips, he must be feeling those responses right now.
Perfect.
Luo Binghe kneels at Shen Qingqiu’s bedside. He traces a line with his finger from Shen Qingqiu’s hairline straight down. Between his eyebrows, down to the center of his nose. A soft, barely-there caress. Just enough. He strokes that line again and again. Taking his time. This is meant to be delicate. Not rushed.
By the third pass of his finger, Shen Qingqiu’s eyes are fully closed. They don’t open again. His breathing regulates.
He’s asleep.
Smiling, Luo Binghe leans in close to his ear. “Good night, Shizun,” he breathes. “Sleep well. Don’t worry about a thing. This disciple is going to clean up the table, then lock the door on his way out.” He pauses, stroking his thumb across Shizun’s cheekbone. Then he adds, “Everything’s alright. Just rest. Let your body heal.”
That’s all Luo Binghe wants. He wants Shizun to sleep and recuperate. Whatever he was struggling with during the duel, it must be serious. Any sleep he can get is advantageous to his body. Furthermore, he can’t help feeling like Shen Qingqiu wasn’t taking care of himself in seclusion. Because he never does.
Luo Binghe hopes that cycle can end tonight.
The response he gets now is only soft snoring. As it should be.
Nodding happily, Luo Binghe stands and regards his shizun one last time. He wants to make him more comfortable, remove his hair piece and his outer layers. But he didn’t get permission for anything like that. If Shen Qingqiu wakes up with even a single hair out of place, he’ll be suspicious as hell! Not worth it. Luo Binghe wants to earn his trust.
Trust is the most important piece of this. Luo Binghe will treat that trust like a fragile baby bird. Cradle it in his hands. Feed it nourishing snacks and nurse it to full health. He’ll care for that trust with all the love he has in his heart, making sure that no matter what, that trust survives.
And thrives.
Satisfied, Luo Binghe turns away to clean the table. He leaves the plate of cookies, pulling a neatly wrapped bundle out of his robes. Inside are a few sweet baozi for shizun to munch on for breakfast. He leaves the present on the table next to the cookies, leaving a tiny stalk of baby’s breath as well to give it the most appetizing appearance.
His job here is done. True to his word, Luo Binghe blows out all the candles and locks the door behind him.
That night, the woodshed feels especially lackluster in comparison to Shizun’s private quarters. But, it’s a wonderful place to keep all his notes on sleep-inducing techniques and recipes. And there is always the promise of tomorrow to keep his spirits high.
_____________________
At sunup the next morning, Luo Binghe is out chopping wood. Humming brightly to himself all the while. He watches Shizun’s door from his vantage point. Interestingly, Shizun doesn’t emerge until around lunchtime.
He must have gotten a good sleep.
During practice, Shen Qingqiu glares daggers at Luo Binghe the entire time. This is nothing particularly new. He often singles Luo Binghe out to belittle him or ask him to demonstrate one of the particularly difficult formations. Today’s stares are a bit different, though. His eyes quite literally never leave Luo Binghe’s face. They stare and stare. Burning a hole through his fan with their intensity. He doesn’t call on Luo Binghe for anything. He seems lost in a spiral of his own hatred.
It’s normal for anyone to be worried in this situation. The other disciples glance nervously between the two of them. Something is off. It’s hard to miss. And usually, when something is amiss with Shen Qingqiu…heads will roll. Probably, a disciple’s head. Almost definitely, Luo Binghe’s.
They keep their distance. Afraid that whatever curse Luo Binghe has on him to garner Shen Qingqiu’s ire will rub off on them.
It isn’t long before practice is finished. Luo Binghe returns to the woodshed to chop wood. Unlike the other disciples, he’s not worried at all.
Shizun slept until midday. He had a wonderful sleep. He must be feeling better than usual! If they’re playing odds, Luo Binghe will take Shen Qingqiu’s wrath on a good day rather than a typical day regardless of the circumstances. And he thinks…he’s pretty sure his plan has worked.
If that’s the case, he doesn’t really have anything to fear.
Sure enough, Shen Qingqiu appears at the woodshed. Cornering him. Black eyes vibrating with contempt. “You,” he spits. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Chopping wood,” Luo Binghe answers leisurely. “As Shizun ordered.”
“I didn’t…” Slowly, Shen Qingqiu remembers that he did. Offhandedly, but still. He waves the matter away. “Never mind that! Put that down!”
“Yes, Shizun.” Chasing the smile from his lips, Luo Binghe sets down the axe and greets his shizun with a polite bow.
Shen Qingqiu swells up to his full height. Enraged. “You…! You ungrateful, horrible little…!” He can’t even settle for what he wants to call him!
“What’s wrong, Shizun? Didn’t you get a good sleep last night?”
“Shut up!” Shen Qingqiu slaps him upside the head. It’s such a rote reaction that by now Luo Binghe doesn’t even flinch. “You put something in my drink! You rotten fiend! Disgusting—!”
“Yes, I did. A supplement, like I said.” Luo Binghe sympathizes in a way. Shen Qingqiu must have woken up disoriented, with no memory of Luo Binghe’s departure.
Is he worried that…?
Oh, poor Shizun. Slinking back into his crawlspace, claws out, expecting the very worst from all people.
“A supplement? Ha! More like a drug!” Shen Qingqiu hands are shaking as he points an accusatory finger at him. “You’re a deviant and a monster! I’ll have you thrown in prison for this! I’ll see you hanged, skin stripped from your bones—”
“You’re right, I’m sorry, I made it too strong. It worked too well.” Luo Binghe bows again. Not so low that he can’t still read his shizun’s reactions. “I just thought that Shen-zongzhu’s sleep troubles needed a powerful dose. But it wasn’t meant to act like a drug. That’s my mistake. Next time I’ll get the dosage correct, I promise.”
“Next time? Next time?! You idiot!” Shen Qingqiu is so mad he can barely breathe! “There’s not going to be a ‘next time’ because I’m going to whip you until your muscles hang loose from your skeleton like meat from a chicken bone—”
“Okay, Shizun, that’s fine. You can whip me if you want.” As if Luo Binghe would be afraid of the whip after all these years! “Just let this disciple finish the desserts he has planned for shizun to eat tonight. They’re almost done. Then you can whip me as much as you like.”
Shen Qingqiu’s accusing finger slowly drops. His mouth hangs open. “D…desserts?” he repeats. At a loss from an answer like that.
Luo Binghe nods. “Yes. Lotus paste buns. Your favorite, right? I’m making them fresh for you to enjoy when I come by tonight to help you again.”
“You…!” Shen Qingqiu clutches his own robes, pulling them closed like he’s been caught in a compromising position. “You think I’ll allow you to come again? Are you out of your mind?”
Probably. Yes. Luo Binghe can’t say as to whether or not his mind has endured all the long years of hardship he’s suffered ever since the moment he was born.
But sanity is irrelevant at the end of the day. What is a thing like that really worth?
Luo Binghe just smiles. “Shizun is free to make up his own mind whether or not he wants to let me in, but I’m definitely coming to your quarters tonight with another meal. This time will be lotus paste buns and some more tea to help with your—”
“N-no more tea! If you try to drug me again I’ll kill you on the spot!” Shen Qingqiu balls his hands into fists like he’s thinking of throwing a punch.
Is he playing defense or offense? It’s unclear. Especially since it seems Shen Qingqiu has already agreed to do the whole thing again.
Naturally. Who could turn down comfort like the kind he experienced last night? After so long enduring the misery of his condition?
“Alright, then. No medicines, no supplements.” That’s a fair enough concession, Luo Binghe figures. “But I really think Shizun should drink the tea. I can see that you’re suffering from another migraine. Your left eye is twitching right here…” In demonstration, he invades Shen Qingqiu’s space and touches the skin of his lower eyelid.
In a flash, Shen Qingqiu slaps his hand away. Mortified.
Luo Binghe grins at him. With teeth. He continues, “When Shizun’s eye twitches like that, it means his head is pounding. Right? Have you been in pain today, Shizun? Tell me, is there anything this disciple can do right now to help you feel better?”
Suddenly the tip of Shen Qingqiu’s nose turns red. As do his eyes. He looks like he might burst into tears—impossible! How could the immovable, vinegar-sour, master of autumn’s stiff chill be capable of crying? Over something as innocuous and simple as this! Plenty of disciples tend to their shizuns in this way! Making special treats, giving massages. In some sects that’s considered routine!
Why is Shen Qingqiu hastily turning away from him to take a deep breath? Gathering himself before he lets anything more escape?
Luo Binghe, who cries all the time when he’s alone, thinks that if Shen Qingqiu wants to cry then he should cry. Who cares about a silly thing like tears? But he’d also like to know the reason behind it. What is making his shizun so upset?
“Are you…” Shen Qingqiu swallows hard. He throws him a look that’s so cold it could wilt a flower. “Are you mocking me?”
“No, no! Not at all, Shizun!” Even if all this turns out to be a misunderstanding, Luo Binghe cannot tolerate the idea! “Absolutely not. I’d never insult my shizun! Please, the only thing I want is to help you. If there’s some way I can…”
He lets his words peter out. Seeing that Shen Qingqiu has stopped listening. His eyes are closed and he’s shaking his head over and over. Unable to look Luo Binghe in the eye.
They’ve touched on something painful here. Something that Luo Binghe is sure his shizun would prefer to leave under wraps. Or at least behind closed doors. They’re standing in the middle of a clearing right now, next to the woodshed. Anyone could walk by…
So, reading the moment, Luo Binghe wisely changes the subject.
In a soft voice (near to the voice he used last night), he says, “Does Shizun like dates in his lotus buns? Or not?” A neutral comment. One that hopefully comes off as thoughtful, since Luo Binghe is only ever thinking of his shizun’s feelings.
Clearing his throat, Shen Qingqiu presses the back of his hand to his mouth. Speaking quietly, as if afraid to be overheard, he answers, “No. No dates. Just…just the plain paste.”
Luo Binghe bows in acquiescence. “As you wish. Paste only. Understood.”
“Fine.” Shen Qingqiu turns his back on him in a flurry of silks. “But no more supplements. Agreed?”
Heart soaring above the heavens, reading his shizun’s answer for what it is, Luo Binghe nods enthusiastically. At Shen Qingqiu’s back. “Of course. I promise.”
“Alright. Remember what you said.” After taking a few steps, Shen Qingqiu stops and half-turns his head to give his final order. “And stop chopping that wood. Enough already. Go inside and get some rest. It’s been a long day.”
Stars dance around Luo Binghe’s vision. Is…is his shizun…really…thinking about him? Wanting him to get rest?
Completely awestruck, hot in a place deep inside, Luo Binghe is frozen to the spot. He can’t even respond until long after Shen Qingqiu has left.
“Yes….Shizun…”
He suddenly shoves himself into motion. Before his shizun can come back and rescind the kind offer. He quickly puts away the axe and climbs onto his bed of wood shavings and dirt. He’ll take a bath later, because he has the time! He’ll even have a moment to himself after he makes the lotus buns. The rest of his day is free.
He bursts into a laugh. Shizun is right, he’s such a fool!
He should have done this years ago.
__________________________
Hours later, when the sun is down and a cool night has settled in, Luo Binghe sits across from Shen Qingqiu. Once again in his bedroom.
They are alone. It’s a bit chilly tonight. But inside, in the space they share, the candles burn with pleasant gold light. The room is warm. Comfortable. As if the effervescent glee inside Luo Binghe’s chest is enough to heat the room like a furnace.
“Is that the taste you were expecting, Shizun?” Luo Binghe asks. Using his soothing, spell-binding voice. He’s already poured his shizun some tea. And watched him eat a full helping of the lotus buns.
Stoic, mostly silent, Shen Qingqiu nods. He’s fully-dressed like last time. Are his outer robes, his masterly finery, some type of armor for him? Why does a shizun need armor to face his disciple? He doesn’t.
Well. One thing at a time.
“Good.” Luo Binghe drums his fingernails against the porcelain. That repeated tinkling sound. “And the tea is to your liking?”
Again, Shen Qingqiu nods.
“That’s great.” The pull of Luo Binghe’s lips is audible in his speech. As is the motion of his tongue. He’s speaking that softly. “Now, Shizun, since you’re not taking the supplement tonight, is it alright if I do something else for you?”
Closing his eyes, Shen Qingqiu lets out a long, weary sigh. He doesn’t respond for several minutes.
Luo Binghe waits. On the floor, he spots the handkerchief he used to wrap Shizun’s breakfast. Shen Qingqiu probably threw it to the ground carelessly (or perhaps in a fit of rage) after he opened it. Smiling, Luo Binghe picks it up. He rubs the material against the bamboo mat, producing a gentle brushing noise. He really drags out the sound. Long and slow. Over and over.
Little by little, Shen Qingqiu opens his eyes. Staring at the ground, where Luo Binghe’s hand is moving, he eventually says, “What is this all about, Binghe. Tell me honestly. What game are you playing?”
Fortunately, Luo binghe prepared for a question like this. He tilts his head to one side. “Game? There’s no game. I just…” Time to be honest. Honesty is the key to this—it must be. “After the duel, I realized Shen-zongzhu must have been suffering in silence for a long time. As a disciple, it’s my duty to make sure my shizun is well-cared for. I researched ways to make you feel better and I’m putting them into practice now.”
“You…researched?” Shen Qingqiu frowns. Then shakes his head, dropping that line of thinking. “So. You’re still thinking about that stupid duel, are you.”
“No, not really. These days I mostly think about ways to help Shizun.” No lie in that, either.
“Tch.” Shen Qingqiu huffs and gets into a more comfortable sitting position. “Well, you don’t have to think about that whole mess for much longer. I’m challenging that vagabond to a rematch.”
A note of warning pluck’s Luo Binghe’s heartstrings. “Are you really?”
Shen Qingqiu nods. His black eyes are opaque. Dismal with what can only be described as murderous intent. “Absolutely. I sent the letter today.”
“Why?”
“Because!” Shen Qingqiu’s eye twitches. His lip twists into a sneer. “No peak lord can let a defeat like that stand! If I don’t challenge him, the rest of the world will think I’m weak. Think about it, Binghe, how would that reflect on Cang Qiong sect? This matters to you, too.”
Luo Binghe digests that information. He’s not surprised to hear that Shen Qingqiu feels this way. But it makes something in his chest sting. Such a thin face his shizun has. Paper thin. If you held it up to the sun and stood underneath it, you could still get sunburnt. That’s how thin it is.
Ruinously thin.
Taking a breath, Luo Binghe slides closer to him. He lowers his voice even more. “Forgive this disciple for being so bold,” he murmurs. “But I’m a person in this world. And I don’t think you’re weak.”
Shen Qingqiu’s eyes are wide. Startled, nearly frightened at how close his disciple has come. But he won’t back down. Probably another matter of pride. He snarls in Luo Binghe’s face, “No? Then what do you think I am? Don’t hold back. Be a man and tell me the truth.”
Moving at a snail’s pace, showing all his movements ahead of time, Luo Binghe trails the backs of his fingers down Shen Qingqiu’s face. “I think Shizun is magnificent.”
A harsh gasp tears out of Shen Qingqiu’s chest. He reels back and tries to slap away the hand. Too late. Luo Binghe has already retracted his hand. He saw that coming.
He continues, “I think I’m lucky to be in this sect. Shizun gave me the highest honor in the world that day when he chose me as a disciple. It’s all I can do to spend the rest of my life repaying the favor.”
At that, Shen Qingqiu’s bottom lip wavers. He barely manages to stutter out, “That’s…that’s right. You are lucky…you should be grateful…”
It’s his usual retort, but it sounds so insincere in this moment.
Luo Binghe chuckles. “And. I think the other peak lords are just jealous of you. Because my Shizun is the most handsome out of all the lords.”
“You—!” Too bold! Shen Qingqiu raises his hand to strike him.
Expertly dodging that blow, Luo Binghe reaches for the handkerchief again. “How did Shizun like the baozi from this morning?” He’s learned a useful trick: Changing the topic.
It works quite well. Shen Qingqiu clicks his teeth in frustration and looks away. “They were…fine, I suppose.”
“Well, there’s none left.” Luo Binghe shakes the cloth in demonstration. “That must mean they were pretty good, right?”
“Don’t get cocky.” Shen Qingqiu crosses his arms. “You’ve still got miles to go before you can call yourself a proper culinary artist.”
“Absolutely. I agree. I’m not an expert by any means.” Wiping his hands on his pant legs, Luo Binghe sits up straight. Serious and soft. “Which is why I’d like to keep practicing. I hope Shizun doesn’t mind supporting me along my journey by eating whatever I create!”
“Hmph. As long as you don’t try to feed me something revolting.” Shen Qingqiu bravely chugs the rest of his tea. There’s no supplement in it tonight, but the tea itself still has some soporific properties.
The peak lord hides a yawn behind his hand. Then his fingertips come up to massage his temples. Working through his headache. Luo Binghe can’t wait to massage the pain away himself.
He decides to be as frank as possible. “And how did Shizun like the candies I left before?”
“What candies?”
“The orange and ginger ones. They were more of a medicine, actually.”
Shen Qingqiu’s eyes fly open. “That…that was you? You made those?”
Grinning, Luo Binghe nods. “Naturally. It was my first time, though. I hope they helped with your symptoms?”
“Tch!” Shen Qingqiu opens his mouth to say something else. But in the end he chooses not to.
Those candies must have been really good if they can close the mouth of a guy like this. Definitely a keeper.
Steering them back on track, Luo Binghe says, “You can eat those candies anytime if they help. But since I’m here, I’ll do my best to chase away the worst of your headaches.” In his practiced voice, he asks, “Would Shizun let me give him a massage?”
This is the next thing. Another very important step.
Shen Qingqiu gasps. He unconsciously curls in on himself, protecting his soft parts. His vital organs. He clenches his legs tightly as if in defiance of some request.
“Just your face and your scalp, I promise,” Luo Binghe clarifies, concerned by that response. “My hands won’t go anywhere else. And if I do anything you don’t like…” He scoots closer, brushing the hair from Shen Qingqiu’s shoulder. Smoothing it down his back. “…Shizun can beat me senseless. Alright?”
Shen Qingqiu fights back a shiver. His hair seems to be a sensitive source of meridian responses. (Excellent!) He presses his lips into a thin line. “Of course I’ll beat you…”
“Of course,” Luo Binghe deadpans. “Now, Shizun. Will you remove your hairpiece for me? I’m going to brush your hair first. Then I’ll massage you. Okay?”
They sit in silence again for a long moment. The candlelight flickers, casting shadows on the walls. Then, Shen Qingqiu squeezes his eyes closed. Throwing caution to the wind in a swift movement, he slips off his guan. Undoing the knot of his hair. Letting it fall down. Natural.
Like this, he looks absolutely stunning. Beyond words. Beyond reason, really.
Luo Binghe is truly grateful. “Thank you, Shizun,” he sings. He retrieves the comb from Shen Qingqiu’s bedside dresser. Then he positions himself behind him, staring down at the bounty in his lap. His beautiful Shizun, who has finally submitted himself to a pampering session
This is the stuff of dreams. Of wishes and heavenly gifts.
Luo Binghe will give him everything.
He runs his fingers through Shen Qingqiu’s silky locks. “Wow, your hair is so soft,” he breathes. Genuinely impressed. Also, his voice is still an important part of the technique.
Right away, Shen Qingqiu breaks out into shivers. His shoulders flinch. “Quiet…” he growls. But it’s a half-hearted command at most.
Luo Binghe pretends he doesn’t hear him. He passes the comb through Shen Qingqiu’s hair. From the roots down to the very tips. Several slow, thorough slides. Rolling the bristles’ tips against his scalp. Stimulating the top-most parts of his head, giving him a rush of tingles. Luo Binghe watches in joy as the shivers tumble down Shen Qingqiu’s head and neck. Visible to the naked eye.
He combs his hair in silence for a while. Just the scrape of clean hair being brushed, that’s the only sound in the room.
Then, Luo Binghe whispers, scant centimeters from his ear, “How often does Shizun get migraines? On a scale of one to ten, how bad are they? On average?”
A wet noise clicks in Shen Qingqiu’s mouth. He swallows audibly. He must have been salivating; the books said that was a natural part of this. For some reason, Luo Binghe likes it.
Speaking in a quiet voice, hesitant like a meek bird (nothing like his normal imperious hiss) Shen Qingqiu replies, “The migraines are every day. Some days are worse than others, but on average I’d say the intensity is around a seven or eight.” He sighs. Voice shaking. “I’ve tried everything to get rid of them. Pills, potions, meditation. Nothing works. I…I’ve given up…”
“Mm, I see.” Luo Binghe cannot keep the sadness from his voice and he doesn’t try. “That must be so hard for you, Shizun. I’m so sorry.”
“….” The only answer Shen Qingqiu gives is a telltale sniff. Luo Binghe can’t see his face, but he images his nose is red again. That cute little button nose.
…Oh. Heaven. Wow, that’s…what Luo Binghe feels next, he has to chase away with a fervent push.
That’s not what this is about.
“Allow me to do whatever I can to help you. I’ll be gentle. Just relax. Relax, relax…” He repeats that word over and over again, burying his hands in Shen Qingqiu’s hair. He rubs circles with his thumbs around the curve of his skull, feeling for the right pressure points. Going slowly, barely using any force. Not a lot of strength is needed once you find the right spot. It’s more about accuracy than strength.
He finds it. Right near the base of his skull, where Shen Qingqiu’s head meets his neck. When Luo Binghe presses there, he unintentionally drags a load moan from the depths of Shen Qingqiu’s chest.
“Oh…” his shizun moans. “…Oh.” As if he’s come to some realization.
“Does that feel good, Shizun?” Luo Binghe puffs a few breaths of air near his ear. Watching the little hairs around his neck stand on end, the skin breaking into goosebumps. “Any better?”
Peering around to watch his face, Luo Binghe sees that his shizun’s jaw has dropped. It hangs wide open. Letting un-self-aware sounds escape. His brows are knitted and his eyes are closed, but he doesn’t seem to be in pain.
It looks like the opposite.
“Y..yes-s…s…” Shen Qingqiu stammers. Breathing the word.
There it is. What a lovely purr Luo Binghe’s shizun has. Delicate, beautiful, and distant. Like the man himself. When he feels good—oh, that look on his face! It could warm the heart of a beast. Make a wolf cry. Luo Binghe wants to wrap him in warm furs and keep him safe. Never let the world lay a finger on him ever again! He wants to coddle him to the ultimate extreme, making sure that Shen Qingqiu never has to lift a hand in his own aid for as long as he lives. Luo Binghe will always be there. Providing him with whatever he needs.
He wants to clutch Shizun to his chest and never let him go.
But, he can’t. Not yet, not yet. He needs to finish what he started and let Shen Qingqiu live out the beauty of this experience. In full.
“Turn your face towards me,” he whispers.
Without hesitation, Shen Qingqiu follows the instruction. He turns his face towards the sound of his voice.
An obedient Shizun. That is…
Breath-taking. Achingly beautiful.
Luo Binghe flutters his fingers in the air. The sound of skin brushing against skin makes Shen Qingqiu’s chin droop. He’s getting sleepy. Of course.
Carefully, Luo Binghe runs his fingertips across Shen Qingqiu’s eyebrows. Ironing the crease out of them. Smoothing that face into a natural, neutral expression. Slack. Ready for sleep. Luo Binghe traces the line of his cheekbones with his thumbs, following the inward curve of his cheeks. Down to his jaw. Along the slope of his nose. Over the cupid’s bow of his top lip, making those sensitive little lips quiver.
While he caresses him, he babbles on about this and that. Just to give Shizun the sound of his voice. “Your skin is so smooth and clear. It’s really incredible. You must put cream on your face to hydrate the dry skin after you wash it, right? Shizun is so smart knowing how to do that. I didn’t know anything about that until I read it in the book.” He laughs at himself.
“Ngh…” Shen Qingqiu shifts his legs uncomfortably. Does he not like being praised so effusively?
Or maybe, it’s the other way around. Maybe he does like it. Perhaps he likes it a lot.
Luo Binghe decides to keep going. He strokes Shen Qingqiu’s chin. “I can’t believe I have such a well-read, scholarly Shizun. There’s so much left for me to learn. Shizun is such a great teacher. I hope he teaches me everything. Much more! So that someday I can be great like him.”
“Mm—” Sucking in a ragged breath, Shen Qingqiu stubbornly shakes his head. Disagreeing.
Where does he take issue with Luo Binghe’s words? Does he not want to teach him? (Well, he never did, really. That was obvious, even though he never said it out loud.) Or does Shen Qingqiu not think he himself is great?
From the look of pain on his face, a look that Luo Binghe immediately smoothes away with his smart fingers, it is probably the latter.
Is that true? In spite of all his fronts, all his superiority, does Shizun really think so little of himself?
How sad…
“Shh, shh, shh…” Luo Binghe cups Shen Qingqiu’s face. Trailing his fingertips down his temples. “Don’t think about anything right now, okay? Just focus on my fingers. On my voice. On the way I’m making you feel. I think you’re almost ready to sleep, right? That’s great.” He looks at his sleepy shizun with affection as strong as the searing sun. “If you want to sleep, you can sleep now. You’ll fall right into my arms. Then this disciple will carry you to the bed. Where you can be comfortable and rest all the way until morning. Alright?”
As if under hypnosis, Shen Qingqiu mindlessly nods. His head is heavy in Luo Binghe’s hands. He’s falling asleep fast.
“Sleep, Shizun,” Luo Binghe breathes. Softer than a whisper. “Go to sleep. Your Binghe is here. He’ll take care of you.”
Just like that, magically, Shen Qingqiu tumbles forward. He is totally asleep. His head plops right onto Luo Binghe’s shoulder. Breathing a peaceful rhythm. Now, he’s fully surrendered.
“Good job,” Luo Binghe coos, wrapping his arms around him so he can carry him, as promised. “You did great. This disciple is proud of you.”
He knows Shen Qingqiu can’t hear him. Or maybe he can. But either way, Luo Binghe wants those words to be spoken. Because they’re so true.
For the second night in a row, he tucks his Shizun into bed. He hopes (and he’s pretty sure he’s correct) that this will become a regular thing.
This will be his solemn duty on Qing Jing peak: Lulling Sheng Qingqiu to sleep. What an important job he has.
____________________________
If you ask the other disciples on Qing Jing peak, they’ll all say the same thing. Luo Binghe is not like the other disciples. He’s just different. Not in a way that’s noticeable to outsiders. No, the differences lies…
…In the way he is with his shizun. They are uncommonly close. To the point that it raises eyebrows around the sect. More and more as time goes on.
Because Luo Binghe’s predictions were right. They do fall into a natural pattern with these sleep-inducing sessions. Luo Binghe is at Shizun’s door every night with a tray of tea and treats. What he does in there is anyone’s guess! Only he and Shizun know the full story.
That’s the why it will stay.
It’s not always an easy arrangement, though. Sometimes Luo Binghe gets Shen Qingqiu’s back up and the claws come out again. He’ll kick his disciple out of the house, throwing the tray behind him. He’ll make empty threats and whack him over the head with his fan. Shen Qingqiu is a difficult person. Getting him to trust another person takes time. Days and days. Months. Even longer.
But they do the best they can in the time they have. Luo Binghe becomes an expert on helping his shizun get to sleep. He learns exactly how to massage him to make the migraines a lot more manageable, and sometimes mitigate them entirely. He’s an expert on Shen Qingqiu’s skin, too. His hair. His meridians. The places that Shen Qingqiu likes to be touched. The places that make him purr.
It would be a lie to say that Luo Binghe doesn’t get anything out of their sessions. He does. For one, his shizun becomes a regular guest in his burgeoning ‘spring dreams.’ Those dreams are mostly flashes of pleasure. Difficult to remember the sights and sounds and tastes. Luo Binghe doesn’t force them, nor does he push them away.
Let the dreams come. They’re fun. Exciting. And the orgasms they give him are…sweet as plum wine.
But in reality, Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu’s relationship has very strict rules. Luo Binghe knows where he’s allowed to touch and where he’s not. He knows the things that Shen Qingqiu will accept and the things he won’t. He knows, for example, that he’s allowed to hold Shizun in his arms and read a book to him in his soft voice (the most tedious book he can find with dry, routine subject matter). Shen Qingqiu falls asleep in no time at all when Luo Binghe reads to him. But, he also knows that if he isn’t careful and he accidentally lets his arousal become known, Shizun will hit him. Telling him he’s a beast.
It only happened once. Luo Binghe is especially vigilant from then on.
Regardless, this arrangement they have is the best thing that’s ever happened to him.
Shen Qingqiu starts treating him…better. Little by little, the abuses disappear. The reprimands. The harsh words. The swift raps of the fan, or the backhands. All that disappears. Instead, Shen Qingqiu guides Luo Binghe’s body gently through the forms. Pressing on his stomach or his acupoints to help him get into position. He’s teacherly, even though the look he wears on his face is anything but willing. Shen Qingqiu: The reluctant teacher. Although he’s a good master nonetheless. He gives Luo Binghe the proper manuals. The other disciples don’t really bother him anymore now that Luo Binghe has grown up (and gotten…bigger). But they wouldn’t dream of it now.
The connection between them is not quite so subtle.
Luo Binghe makes his appreciation knows. Every night means every night. Even when Shizun is in a bad mood. He’ll wait outside the door, keeping the tea warm with his qi. Waiting, waiting for Shen Qingqiu to let him. Sometimes it takes hours. But always—always, always—Shen Qingqiu relents.
“Luo Binghe.”
He’ll call to him from the other side of the door. His voice low and fragile. A poorly disguised sound of desperation. As cold as Shen Qingqiu can muster when he wants his disciple’s hands. His voice. His food. His touch. The want is always abundantly clear.
And Luo Binghe leaps to his feet to join him. Brandishing all his gifts with pride.
Eventually, Shen Qingqiu decides it’s easier if Luo Binghe stops sleeping in the woodshed. He tells him to move his things into the bamboo house in his private quarters. A room no one has ever used before.
Luo Binghe can hardly believe his ears! His stomach turns hot, then cold, then hot again. He’s dumbfounded at Shizun’s kindness! This constitutes the first time in Luo Binghe’s life that he’s ever slept on a bed. Instead of the cold ground.
It is…incredible. So soft. As soft as heaven. Suffused with the sandalwood smell of Shen Qingqiu’s house. A smell he associates with his shizun.
It’s perfect.
He’ll never leave here. Ever.
He thinks…he thinks maybe Shizun wants that, too. Well, there is proof now, but it’s still hard to tell. The most solid piece of evidence Luo Binghe has is one night. When Shen Qingqiu falls asleep in his lap, face pressed against his neck. For once, Luo Binghe is the one who feels something hard protruding into his stomach. He gently shifts shizun’s waist to take a look…and sure enough.
What a beautiful display. A neat little bulge pressed against the fine silks in Shizun’s lap. Proud, refined, and needy. All at the same time!
Shizun is getting stronger every day! He must be feeling better than ever now! Especially with Luo Binghe around to give him massages and tingles. If Shizun wants, Luo Binghe can take care of this part of him too.
All Shen Qingqiu needs to do is say the words. He hasn’t yet, but Luo Binghe thinks maybe he will someday. Soon.
In addition, his shizun’s reputation is improving. In the rematch he demanded, he secures a comfortable victory against that opponent. (Perhaps thanks to Luo Binghe’s special treatment, who knows!) Later, when Shen Qingqiu enters another quick seclusion, he happens upon Liu Qingge in qi deviation. He actually manages to save the man. Hs spiritual force is strong enough (again, because of Luo Binghe?) to transfer his own qi to Liu Qingge’s meridians and stop the deviation at its source.
This story becomes something of an open secret. No one will talk about the matter to Liu Qingge’s face, but most people seem to know exactly what happened anyway. The other sects start talking about Shen Qingqiu in a different light. A favorable one. They gossip about how he’s sophisticated and gentlemanly. They forget the rumors of the past. Shen Qingqiu becomes genuinely popular, much to his own chagrin.
But no matter how popular Shen Qingqiu is, no matter how much power he wields in the light of day…behind closed doors, the dynamic between him and his favorite disciple is set. Unquestionable. Luo Binghe can make Shen Qingqiu fall asleep whenever he wants. Using hardly more than the energy stored in his littlest finger. It’s an unthinkably easy task and they both know it.
Yet, Luo Binghe doesn’t lord that power over him. He uses it when the time is right. When Shen Qingqiu needs it, or when he wants it. When it feels natural. Unforced. Shared.
A connection like no other Luo Binghe has ever had. Not just shizun and disciple anymore. Now it’s a little bit more.
In all the right ways.
～～完～～