Chapter Text
Even after learning that a ghost lingered around him, Shen Qingqiu still had a habit of talking when he was alone in a room. But rather than speaking to himself or to the mysterious invisible fairy associate he referred to as System, now he addressed most of his musings to “Ghost” — treating him almost like a shy student who needed to be teased into answering him.
At first Liu Qingge couldn’t, even if he wanted to. A sense of exhaustion that overwhelmed him on the first day and lingered on the second, warning him not to try.
On the third day, Liu Qingge held himself back out of a desire to almost tease Shen Qingqiu in return, pleased on some level by seeing the expressions play over Shen Qingqiu’s face when he tried to think of ways to coax him into responding. It was like being a cat who was pretending to ignore someone’s attempts to get their attention.
He relented that evening, when Shen Qingqiu appeared to be worried at the silence and asked, “You’re still around, aren’t you? You didn’t get hurt protecting me, I hope?”
Liu Qingge immediately plucked the brush pen Shen Qingqiu loosely held between his fingers and drew it in an arc over the blank sheet of paper in front of him — too deliberate to be anything but him exerting control over the brush. Unfortunately for him, it was not the word he’d meant to write. His confidence was higher than his ghostly dexterity and the brush quickly clattered to the table, ink splattering in the middle of the page underneath the arc.
He scowled at the mess, but Shen Qingqiu looked delighted. Almost sulking at his inelegant results, Liu Qingge resumed half-ignoring Shen Qingqiu’s attempts to communicate, though this time with less cat-like contrariness than embarrassment at his failed grand display to impress the fairy.
Still, Liu Qingge was a little pleased to see Shen Qingqiu take his writing attempt and prop it aside on his desk so he could look at it from time to time as he worked.
***
Liu Qingge wasn’t the only one to have noticed how cute the new Shen Qingqiu could be.
It would have been singularly astonishing how easily Shen Qingqiu charmed people into forgetting “his past” unless you were aware that he had a fairy’s soul. Presumably it had to do with him being a higher level fairy, as Shang Qinghua did not display the same ability. But everyone from Shen Qingqiu’s disciples, to shopkeepers, to even the other peak lords had some degree fallen under his spell, even if all most were interested in was becoming better acquainted and sharing common interests.
In fact, Liu Qingge quickly realized that everyone but Shen Qingqiu seemed to have noticed how he affected others.
The bookish fairy quickly gathered several admirers who watched him, spellbound, as he grew ever more comfortable in his role and showed no signs of reverting to “his old ways”. The others weren’t to know that wasn’t something he could revert back to — those “old ways” weren’t his to begin with, after all.
Well… perhaps they weren’t except for his tendency to bully his fairy friend and scare or at least intimidate the backbone out of anyone who dared presume his sweeter nature had declawed him. These were qualities that the two shared (even if the fairy made them more charming).
It was perhaps precisely this sweet-and-sour contrast that attracted the attention of some of the admirers.
Specifically it drew the interest of the Beastmaster, lord of the Nameless Peak, which specialized in taming monsters and partnering with spirit beasts. Shen Qingqiu was apparently especially fascinated by the various creatures of the world, leading him to happily ply the Beastmaster (who’d retired his personal name when he assumed the title, as the lord of the Nameless Peak always did) with tea for hours in order to hear more about various monsters and spirit beasts he’d encountered.
The Beastmaster wasn’t the only suitor, but he was the one who seemed to feel he had the most encouragement, so he visited even more often than Shang Qinghua and Yue Qingyuan, who (while distinctly not suitors) between them visited so frequently that it was a wonder there was ever a day Shen Qingqiu had more time to himself than one needed to wash and sleep, much less enjoy a meal alone.
Because of this, Liu Qingge found the Beastmaster annoying. All the more because he’d got along quite well with him in the times their paths intersected — which wasn’t often, as both were frequently away from the mountain.
Until recently, at least.
The Beastmaster wasn’t a bad person — none of the current peak lords really were (even the previous Shen Qingqiu could at least be depended on and was clear about who he did and didn’t like… which was almost a kind of honesty, though Liu Qingge would definitely not classify him as a ‘good’ person by almost any definition).
Though he wasn’t a bad person, the Beastmaster had some rather unfortunate flaws.
For one, there was a very good reason Liu Qingge was called upon to deal with rampaging monsters more often than the Beastmaster: the Beastmaster was a coward. If he knew a creature well enough, he could have any of them eating out of his hands in minutes — but when encountering new creatures, he approached even weak, benevolent ones with extreme caution, taking days, weeks, or even months to study them before he’d make any move to tame one. It was fine when time wasn’t an issue, but most of the time the sect got involved because it was.
There was never a more powerful Beastmaster, but power alone was a poor substitute for substance, in Liu Qingge’s opinion.
And, secondly (and most importantly), the Beastmaster was something of a habitual liar. Never out of malice (his level of maliciousness was inverse to the original Shen Qingqiu’s), but more out of an awareness that as powerful as he was, his cowardice put him well behind even many of his disciples, so he wanted to look as impressive as he was supposed to be. Even Shang Qinghua showed more honest backbone than the Beastmaster, and Shang Qinghua wouldn’t dare take credit for someone else’s work in order to look good.
Liu Qingge’s opinion of the Beastmaster plummeted every time the reports on the monsters Liu Qingge had encountered and shared with the Beastmaster were relayed to Shen Qingqiu as if they were the Beastmaster’s own experiences. He’d made a point of sending them to the Beastmaster to speed his understanding of the beasts and make things go more smoothly for everyone, so it felt very like a betrayal of his good intentions.
Quite a few of the Beastmaster’s tea cups ‘mysteriously’ ended up in his lap any time Liu Qingge caught him implying or even outright claiming credit for something Liu Qingge knew were his or even another peak member’s experiences or observations. It happened often enough that Shen Qingqiu stopped offering the Beastmaster quite so much tea and seemed to press him less on his stories.
It wasn’t just Liu Qingge who wanted to see less of the Beastmaster. He wasn’t even the most clever at discouraging his presence.
The disciple of prophecy, Luo Binghe, seemed to share his opinion on the Beastmaster, hovering with jealous attention every time the peak lord visited in a way he didn’t with the hapless Shang Qinghua or the reserved sect master.
At first, Liu Qingge had taken the boy’s hovering as a display of another hopeful suitor trying to monopolize Shen Qingqiu’s time, but the more he watched the boy, the easier it was to see that he was just threatened by the Beastmaster’s invitations to take Shen Qingqiu down the mountain on adventures. Though the disciple hadn’t quite released his wariness of Shen Qingqiu in order to grow close the way some of the other disciples had, a fierce protectiveness had nonetheless sprung up in the wake of Shen Qingqiu taking an injury to protect him.
Liu Qingge approved.
Luo Binghe was a highly observant and perceptive disciple, and he’d also clearly learned that drawing too much attention to himself rarely went well for him. So while he’d picked up quickly on the discrepancies in the Beastmaster’s stories, he didn’t dare bring them to his shizun’s notice.
While the Beastmaster would never dream of harming Shen Qingqiu (and likely had no shot at doing so if he’d tried), Luo Binghe either hadn’t understood that yet, or didn’t care. He’d assessed him as an Undesirable Person and had decided to rid his shizun of the Beastmaster’s company.
The boy’s machinations were the first thing that had sidetracked Liu Qingge’s attention away from Shen Qingqiu since he’d become a ghost. Though he was usually careful to stay within earshot or at least in view of Shen Qingqiu, he kept an eye on Luo Binghe whenever it was clear the boy was up to something.
It took very little for Luo Binghe to determine what days and times the Beastmaster was likely to appear and how he approached Shen Qingqiu. The man preferred times the other peak lords were less likely to visit and walked from his peak to Qing Jing Peak, using a back pathway through the bamboo forest behind Shen Qingqiu’s house.
By the time Liu Qingge had recovered his energy, Luo Binghe had set up a strange contraption by the waterfall that was hidden within the bamboo forest. The contraption had a couple of differently sized vessels that intermittently filled with water and triggered the rise and fall of weighted sacks that tugged at one of a few different ropes that were tied to different bushes or stands of bamboo. Luo Binghe let that soft, distant rustling attract the Beastmaster’s attention for a few visits, altering the patterns each time and observing the peak lord’s nervous, but incurious reactions.
Roughly a week later, Luo Binghe had finished serving his master tea. With the slight smirk around his lips that Liu Qingge recognized as his Scheming expression, Luo Binghe left the room. Liu Qingge gave Shen Qingqiu a glance, knowing the peak lord would happily read his newest novel for the next few hours without leaving, so he followed the boy out of the bamboo house and to the tool shed.
Not long after, the Beastmaster walked along the path to discover Luo Binghe hip-deep in a pit he was digging next to the path. The Beastmaster stopped when Luo Binghe caught sight of him while he wiped sweat from his brow and climbed out of the pit to bow to him, his shovel politely tucked behind his arm like a sword — as if he might need it for protection.
“Beastmaster-Shishu,” Luo Binghe greeted him.
“Ara… You’re Disciple Binghe, right?” the Beastmaster responded cheerfully. At the boy’s nod, he asked, “What are you doing out here in the forest? I thought this area of the peak was not often visited?”
Luo Binghe raised his gaze and offered a small, somewhat awkward smile, though his dark eyes had a watchful gleam that, truthfully, the Beastmaster should have recognized. Though he did tend to avoid interacting with predators, so perhaps he wouldn’t.
“Answering Shishu, I am digging a pit. As you said, this area of the peak is not often used. This is perhaps why a beast has moved in and made it its home.”
The Beastmaster flinched slightly, glancing down at the pit and then towards the bamboo forest surrounding them. Obligingly, the contraption produced a perfectly timed soft rustle. Both froze, but as they heard no other sounds, the Beastmaster chuckled nervously.
“Ah? Is that so? What sort of beast — do you know?”
“Answering Shishu, I believe it to be a Tainttalon Grasscat,” the boy said, eyes suspiciously wide and innocent, as if he were eagerly awaiting his shishu’s wisdom, but too shy to ask for it directly yet.
“A-ah…!” the Beastmaster replied, turning paper pale with alarm.
A Tainttalon Grasscat was precisely the sort of creature he’d avoid at all costs. They were clever, not terribly afraid of anything, and extremely dangerous even without factoring in the previous two qualities. Though they tended to prefer not to attack humans — especially not those with high cultivation — a bold one wouldn’t be shy about hunting the unwary. Especially as they could absorb cultivation power from what they ate. It might stalk a human victim for days before deciding to take a swipe at their prey, their razor-sharp claws leaving wounds that could be taken as insect bites or scratches from undergrowth before the poison took effect and the victim was left weak, helpless, and likely far away from wherever the Grasscat had made their den. The Grasscat could collect their weakened victim in the night with no one the wiser.
When the Beastmaster said nothing, Luo Binghe pressed him a little harder. “Does Shishu have advice to offer on the pit? Several of our chickens have gone missing, so I thought if I made a large pit-trap and placed a chicken on top of it…”
The chickens were certainly missing, though Luo Binghe was dutifully caring for those he’d abducted and hidden in the forest. Liu Qingge was sure they’d be miraculously located once the boy’s purpose was served.
“Ah — n-no. That… Aiyah…” The Beastmaster stammered as he nervously shifted his weight from foot to foot, eyes darting down the path the way he’d come and then again towards the little bamboo house ahead. Finally he took a breath and, somewhat miraculously, played the responsible role for once. “Come. If it is a Grasscat, Tainttalon or otherwise, it is not safe to be in the bamboo forest alone. Especially not so close to dusk.”
Though nervy, the Beastmaster waited for Luo Binghe before leading the way hurriedly down the path, hand frequently going to one of the talismans he wore around his neck, each of which could summon a favorite spirit beast. Liu Qingge followed them, amused as he watched Luo Binghe trot alongside the Beastmaster, his guileless expression slipping to a sort of playfully wicked satisfaction whenever the Beastmaster’s attention was drawn to some insignificant or entirely imaginary sound in the bamboo forest.
“Listen,” the Beastmaster said, stopping when the end of the path through the forest came into view. The porch of the bamboo house could be just seen from where they stood. “I will return to my peak and dig up all the information the Nameless Peak has on Grasscats, the toxin of the Tainttalon Grasscat, and how to deal with one. I’ll send it to your shizun as soon as I can. Please inform him and apologize to him for my not being available for the next few days while I do the research.”
“En! Thanking Shishu for his trouble!” Luo Binghe said, leaning forward with starry eyes and a beaming smile. “I’m sure Shizun can depend on Shishu for assistance if he needs it! It is not often Shishu is at the peak, so we are lucky he is here!”
Liu Qingge couldn’t help but snort to himself at the boy’s manipulative words. Predictably, the Beastmaster took the bait, seizing on the idea and running exactly the direction Luo Binghe likely intended with it.
“Aiyah… Zhangmen-Shixiong does have a task waiting for me… I have been delaying my departure from the mountain, but may not be able to put it off for much longer. Research may be all I have time for. Of course, you may rely on my disciples if Shen Qingqiu-Shixiong needs back-up…! It is too bad Liu-Shixiong…” he shook his head fretfully. “I will write your shizun if Zhangmen-Shixiong sends me away before I can help capture the beast.”
“En, Shishu…” Luo Binghe said, bowing to him.
The Beastmaster hesitated, glancing towards the house as if trying to decide whether or not to visit while he was there already, so Liu Qingge dragged his hand through the nearby poles of bamboo, knocking them together to produce a sound like a large creature trying to push its way through to rush at the two.
Almost bravely, the cowardly peak lord grabbed Luo Binghe’s arm and dragged him with him as he bolted down the path towards the house.
With a confused and vaguely alarmed backwards glance, the boy went, gamely keeping pace until they were safely at the front of the house. He was soon agreeing to his shishu’s instructions to have torches lit along the perimeter of the house, dormitories, and animal pens for the next few nights to discourage attacks. Then the Beastmaster hurried off towards Qiong Ding Peak, clearly in hopes that Yue Qingyuan could be coaxed to send him away from the mountain quickly.
The next day, Shen Qingqiu was in possession of several copies from texts that had information about Grasscats, their various properties, and methods of dealing with them as well as a note expressing regret that it might be some time until their next meeting, until we next meet; etc.
The Beastmaster had left the mountain later the same day.
Luo Binghe no longer played the timid disciple. Ridding himself of a peak lord he’d disapproved of was apparently all he’d needed to gain the confidence necessary to assert himself on his peak, and Shen Qingqiu accepted this new confidence without hesitation.
The chickens were all the better for their little adventure and the meticulous care their kidnapper took of them. That said, they seemed to sulk when they realized Luo Binghe was no longer going to pamper them and ceased their production of the particularly large eggs that had been making their way to Shen Qingqiu’s table during their captivity.
Shen Qingqiu seemed interested in the information on Grasscats, if mildly confused about its inexplicable delivery, but he was not the least bit regretful of the loss of company, nor did he question the (apparently completely unnecessary, as far as Shen Qingqiu was aware) assurance that the Nameless Peak would be glad to deal with any issues with beasts and monsters that Qing Jing Peak might run into.
His attention was far too distracted by having come up with a method of communicating with his ghost to think twice about the Beastmaster’s parting gifts.
***
The same afternoon the Beastmaster left to study the migration patterns of a kaleidoscope of Ambrosia Honeybee Butterflies (who collected nectar in hives scattered along their migration routes, which gave it healing properties that Mu Qingfang was very interested in — at the Beastmaster’s usual pace was a quest that might take him two years before he returned), Shen Qingqiu gently shooed the warmly attentive Luo Binghe to sword practice and sat down at his bedroom table with a fresh sheet of parchment paper.
Liu Qingge moved closer to watch as the peak lord weighted down the four corners of the paper and neatly wrote the words: YES and NO on two ends of the paper and HELLO and GOOD-BYE at the top. As the ink dried, he pulled an arrowhead shaped piece of wood from his sleeve and placed it deliberately on the middle of the paper in the empty space between YES and NO, the click sharp enough to draw a satisfied smile to the man’s lips.
There was a brief pause before Shen Qingqiu waved his fan, sending a little swirl of qi-backed air to completely dry any remaining damp patches of ink.
“Ghost? Are you here?”
Shen Qingqiu had hung a scroll painting the day after the ink brush incident and asked him to confirm his presence by making the decorative tassel attached to the bottom move. It was really the only particular effort that Shen Qingqiu had requested of him so far and as it was a trivial thing to do, Liu Qingge followed the previously established protocol and made a negligent motion of his hand to move the tassel.
“Wonderful!” Shen Qingqiu enthused, sitting up, his eyes glittering with excitement. “I assume you can read? Come here. I’ve remembered something called a spirit board. We can use this to communicate. You can move this piece of wood to point to the word you wish to answer with.”
Liu Qingge thought for a moment before moving the arrow-shaped piece of wood first to “YES” and then to “HELLO” as that seemed to be what Shen Qinqiu had written it for.
“Hello!” Shen Qingqiu chirped before breaking into the biggest smile Liu Qingge had seen from him yet. “Excellent! I have so many questions for you!”
Liu Qingge smiled. He could only imagine that was an understatement.
“I’ve noticed that any time you’ve done anything, well, big, you wouldn’t do anything else for awhile. I assume that ‘big’ things tire you out?”
That seemed to be correct, so he moved the arrow to “YES”, watching as Shen Qingqiu leaned forward to track the movement.
“Does this seem like it might be too tiring for you? Moving the planchette, I mean.”
Liu Qingge wasn’t familiar with the word ‘planchette’ but assumed it meant the arrow, so he moved it to “NO” — he was pretty sure he could do this for quite awhile without issue.
“Good! If you feel yourself tiring or, I suppose, hear someone coming, you can move the planchette to say ‘good-bye’ and we can stop. All right?”
“YES”
Shen Qingqiu leaned back with a smile, looking nearly as satisfied as Luo Binghe had upon achieving his goal with ridding them of the Beastmaster. The fairy was just not nearly so smug about it.
There was a brief pause while Shen Qingqiu appeared to organize his thoughts, absently tucking hair behind his ears as he stared down at the spirit board.
“Can you point the arrow in the direction you are? I’d like to look properly at you while I’m speaking to you, even if I can’t see you. It feels rude otherwise.”
Liu Qingge obediently moved to kneel on the other side of the table from Shen Qingqiu and then pointed the arrow towards himself. He was immediately rewarded by Shen Qingqiu looking up with another bright smile. If he had been physical, their eyes would have met — the fairy had managed to look directly at him, causing a little frisson to run through Liu Qingge’s incorporeal form.
“Hello, Ghost,” Shen Qingqiu said softly.
“HELLO” Liu Qingge gamely responded after a brief pause, feeling an odd intimacy in the conversation now that was absent before.
Shen Qingqiu dropped his eyes to the spirit board and smiled before it went a little wry. “A proper spirit board would have more to it so you could write full messages back to me, but that would probably be too troublesome and frustrating for both of us and I worry you’d tire too easily. We’ll stick with this simplified form for now until I can think of a better method. Unless you can speak yet? Have you tried?”
Hesitantly, Liu Qingge’s hand moved to the arrow and started to move it towards “NO” but he stopped before getting there. He hadn’t tried, but he didn’t know if he could, so he wasn’t sure whether or not to answer ‘NO’ when there were two questions. Instead, he left it where it was, a little away from the word, before he looked over at Shen Qingqiu.
“Shen Qingqiu,” he said firmly. Or thought he had, but he didn’t even hear himself.
He watched closely, but there wasn’t a flicker of response in the bookish fairy, who continued to stare eagerly down at the wooden arrow. Liu Qingge sighed and moved the arrow all the way to the word, “NO” — a little disappointed it wouldn’t be that easy. Something else to practice now, he supposed.
“No? Oh — no wonder you hesitated. I asked you two questions, didn’t I… Then you tried and cannot speak?”
“YES”
“What a shame. We’ll try practicing it.”
Liu Qingge thought for a moment before pulling the arrow back before moving it again to point to “YES”
“Oh. I appreciate you reinforcing the answer. Do you have to practice to move things?”
“YES”
“And are you getting better at it — or, I guess, is it getting easier?”
Liu Qingge pulled the arrow back. Rather than just pushing it back to ‘YES’ yet again, he decided to show off a little, scooping it up and flipping it in the air like a coin before setting it back on the affirmative. It certainly cost him more energy, but he thought it was the best way to show that he was getting stronger.
“Oh,” Shen Qingqiu breathed, looking as impressed as if Liu Qingge had leveled a mountain.
Liu Qingge sighed to himself, the reaction giving him mixed feelings. It didn’t feel that long ago where leveling a mountain was something he might actually be capable of, if he wanted to waste a lot of effort to destroy a perfectly good mountain, which of course he didn’t. But on the other hand, it was a great deal of effort to interact with the world now and he was pleased with provoking that sort of expression out of the fairy…
“Can you do anything else other than move objects?” Shen Qingqiu asked.
“NO” he indicated, though it was fair to say he hadn’t really tried. Then he remembered being able to move through solid objects and quickly moved the arrow over to “YES” — just to be sure he wasn’t lying.
“Ah? Which is it?”
“YES”
“What—” Shen Qingqiu broke off. “I guess that would be difficult to explain just with the available answers… Hmmm.”
The fairy took up his brush again, inked it, and wrote three new possible responses, waving his fan to try to dry the ink on, “PERHAPS”, “DON’T KNOW”, and “COMPLICATED”.
As he inked the words, he spoke, “Obviously these aren’t going to help you answer that question either, but not every question has a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer, so it should still help a little.”
He set the brush almost carelessly aside on the inkstone and indicated his work with his expressive hands.
“Those should be clear enough, but just in case, ‘PERHAPS’ is an answer for questions that aren’t a strict ‘yes’ or ‘no’, ‘DON’T KNOW’ for answers you don’t have, and ‘COMPLICATED’ if you have an answer, but the other answers don’t suit. Will that work?”
“PERHAPS” Liu Qingge answered, mostly to amuse himself.
Inspired by Shen Qingqiu’s little yelp at the slight smear the ink left when the wooden arrow passed over the edge of a word, Liu Qingge concentrated so he could dip his fingertip into the inkstone’s reservoir and leave behind two dots and a crescent shape. A child’s drawing of a smile was now tucked in the top corner of the paper, near HELLO.
He felt like he’d run from the bottom of Cang Qiong Mountain to the top of his peak at full tilt from the effort that it took — writing words again would take quite a lot of practice and effort, no doubt — but he was more than satisfied when Shen Qingqiu sucked in a breath and held it. After a moment, the fairy’s cheeks flushed and Liu Qingge watched with wonder as he registered the unfamiliar softness of that expression on a face that once belonged to someone else.
Finally Shen Qingqiu released his held breath and quietly said, “You’re a person, aren’t you? Not a nature spirit or something like that, but someone’s ghost.” His eyes still stared at the drawing of the smile.
“YES”
“Someone I know?”
Liu Qingge wasn’t sure how to answer that one. After a few moments, he moved it from “PERHAPS” to “DON’T KNOW” and finally to “COMPLICATED”. On thinking about it, he moved it back to “PERHAPS”.
Instead of looking annoyed or confused by his answer, Shen Qingqiu just looked thoughtful, humming to himself and toying with his fan. The fairy was far more attached to his fans than the original Shen Qingqiu ever had been. Liu Qingge wondered if the fairy had an exaggerated idea of the original’s use of a fan or if it was his own habit he’d brought with him. It suited him either way. Whether he realized it or not, he ‘said’ quite a lot without using words.
Perhaps that, more than the sweet-and-sour attitude, was what had actually attracted the Beastmaster’s attention. It was like reading the body language of a creature. The original Shen Qingqiu was rarely expressive in this way — his choices in displaying emotions were all usually very calculated unless he was in a rage. (Or, based on what he’d seen in Ling Xi Caves, perhaps also in the rare cases he was truly alarmed.) But though the fairy certainly knew how to use his body language to deceive and was good at it, he didn’t seem to have any idea he unconsciously betrayed himself when he was feeling more relaxed too. Perhaps that was why those who tended to watch people more closely were drawn in by the fairy.
“I suppose by that, you mean that I would know the name, but we’ve never personally met,” Shen Qingqiu finally said, interrupting Liu Qingge’s observations.
“YES”
Shen Qingqiu worried his lower lip, glancing up and to his left briefly before frowning to himself and picking up the fan to hold tightly in his lap. “Do you know who I am?”
“YES”, “COMPLICATED” Liu Qingge indicated.
“I’m Shen Qingqiu,” the fairy suggested.
“COMPLICATED” Liu Qingge said again, before moving it to “NO” and then “PERHAPS”.
The fairy laughed almost helplessly. “I suppose that might be difficult to answer. I wasn’t born with the name, after all.”
“NO” The fairy’s name had something to do with Cucumbers.
“To confirm — you are a ghost?”
It felt like the fairy was stalling or circling around the point, but Liu Qingge allowed it. It wasn’t as if he could direct the conversation as easily.
“YES”
“Of someone who knew Shen Qingqiu?”
“YES”
“When you died… Was it a long time ago?”
“NO”
“Then recently?”
“YES”
“…are you…” the fairy hesitated before very carefully asking, “Do you have a grudge against me?”
“NO”
Feeling a little frustrated, knowing they were so close to the point, Liu Qingge indicated “NO” multiple times until the fairy laughed rather weakly and reached out to press down on the wooden arrow to stop it from moving. For a moment Liu Qingge thought he felt the touch of his hand as it passed through his and froze.
“Enough. I understand. Calm down.”
Liu Qingge reluctantly withdrew his hand, huffing noiselessly and turning his attention to the heavy jade paperweight holding down one of the corners of the paper, forcing it to face a different direction.
The fairy chuckled with a little more energy that time. “Are you young?” The tone was almost teasing.
“PERHAPS” Whether or not he was ‘young’ was relative.
“Then, about my age?”
“YES”
“A woman?”
“NO”
“I thought not. That is a relief, though. You’ve been staying close for the most part, haven’t you?”
A little embarrassed, he indicated, “PERHAPS”
The fairy smirked as if he knew better. “I see. You’ve been giving me privacy.”
“YES”, “YES”, “YES”
The fairy leaned back and laughed until he was breathless. “I’m just teasing, it’s fine. It’s okay.”
Liu Qingge dipped his fingers in the ink and drew an angry face out of two dots, another crescent, and slashing eyebrows, which made the fairy laugh again. He was getting tired, but it was worth it to see the fairy begin to relax from his earlier tension.
“You’ve been here since I woke up from Ling Xi Caves.”
He didn’t make that a question, but Liu Qingge answered anyway. “YES”
“And you were with me before?”
“NO”
“Then you know.”
There was no hesitation — he answered before Shen Qingqiu felt the need to clarify his question. “YES”
“Are you the real Shen Qingqiu?”
“NO” The arrow moved so quickly to deny it that Liu Qingge was surprised he didn’t rip the paper.
The fairy seemed stunned. “N-no?”
“NO”
There was a long pause where emotions chased over his face and Liu Qingge waited.
“…But I would know your name?” the fairy finally asked.
“YES”
“And you died recently…”
“YES”
“Are you… Liu Qingge?”
“YES”
There was another long pause that somehow seemed to go on for even longer than it took for the fairy to process that he wasn’t speaking with the ghost of the original Shen Qingqiu. Finally the fairy sat forward and smacked the fan on the edge of his table as if irritated.
“…I thought you said you were young!”
What?
Confused, Liu Qingge indicated “YES” again and stared at the fairy, utterly dumbfounded.
“Aren’t you, like, a 50 year old man or something?” the fairy asked, tone somewhat strangled, almost as if offended.
“NO” For some reason annoyed, Liu Qingge moved the wooden arrow to the angry face and back to “NO”.
“Oh, fine. I’m asking Shang Qinghua later, don’t think I won’t.” The fairy pointed the closed fan in his general direction like an accusatory finger.
“NO” (angry face) “NO”
“Ha!” the fairy said, triumphant, almost crowing as if he’d caught him lying. “No need to be embarrassed. It’s fine to be older than me. I won’t call you Geezer or anything.”
“NO” (angry face) (angry face) “NO”
The fairy just rocked back and laughed and laughed until tears came to his eyes.
“GOOD-BYE” Liu Qingge indicated before getting up, ignoring the fairy’s giggling attempts to coax him back to the table. He was tired anyway.
***
“What do you mean, he’s younger than Shen Qingqiu?” the fairy demanded that evening, gripping the other fairy by the collar and almost knocking over the dinner set on the table between them.
Since it was too awkward to think of them by their assumed names when they were currently referring to the peak lords as different people, Liu Qingge reluctantly let himself think of them by their odd fairy names. Just for now.
“Er,” Airplane clarified, freezing as if it might save him from being menaced.
Liu Qingge smirked, leaning against the wall as he watched, arms crossed over his chest.
“Answer!”
“Ah! He’s Shen Qingqiu’s junior brother, both in age and by peak precedence… Please let go.”
“By how much?”
“Why does it ma— Aaah, stop pulling! I don’t know? A year? Two, maybe? I never really thought about it, so I don’t remember if I ever said! Why???”
Released, the hapless fairy scrambled away from his fellow, glancing mournfully at the food that was now too far away to reach without getting back in range of the bookish fairy’s attack. Starting from the weiqi explosion incident, Luo Binghe took over preparing his master’s meals. The difference between what was served when the fairy had arrived and now was clearly night and day, even if he knew for a fact that the boy only put in his full effort for his master alone.
“I thought he was one of those cool ripped geezers! What the hell, Airplane!”
“Seriously, Bro, you’re being weird. What’s got up your ass about this anyway?” Airplane asked.
“What does he look like, then?” Cucumber asked, flopping back in his seat and toying with his fan, shoulders slumped with defeat.
Airplane rolled his eyes at his fellow fairy’s lack of reasoning ability. “He’s the peerless Liu Mingyan’s brother. He matches her, really.”
“What? Girlish?” Cucumber asked, head lifting and looking as if he were perking up by scenting a way to save face for his mistake in thinking of Liu Qingge as an old man.
Before Airplane could answer, Liu Qingge flicked the teapot with its by-now lukewarm tea into Cucumber’s lap. This caused such great chaos that the conversation was immediately forgotten in the hurry to clean up the mess before Luo Binghe saw or anything got stained (in that approximate order of priority, it seemed).
It was the most childish thing that Liu Qingge had ever done in his life (even more-so than doing the same to the Beastmaster), but he was filled with enough satisfaction for two lifetimes because of it.