The Blade and The Fall

by heretherebemonsters

Summary:

Xin Mo left more than scars on Liu Qingge's body. As his physical health spirals, so do his mental and emotional states. He's hanging on by a thread.

A year after Maigu Ridge, Liu Qingge struggles to move on.

Notes:

This fic takes place a year post-canon (though some details are different, like Bingqiu spend quite a bit of time at the sect and Shang Qinghua wasn't actually a traitor, so he's still running An Ding Peak with some help from Mobei-jun) and Liu Qingge is a hot mess, in more ways than one. This is self-indulgent in many ways but is basically an excuse to engage in some Liu Qingge whump before giving him the happy ending he deserves. Please keep his mindset in mind if he seems a bit out of character at times; he's about one bad day away from walking out on literally everything. Also please mind the tags! I debated on the archive warning, since there is no actual rape/non-con happening "on-screen" in this story; it's all referenced, implied, and happened years before this story's present time but I added it just to be safe.

Thanks for reading and please leave a comment and kudos!

Chapter 1

It had been a long while since Liu Qingge had felt decent enough to readily say he was having a good day.

This morning was no different. He had risen with the sun, as usual, but instead of taking his time with his routine readying for the day, he had hurried into yesterday’s robes and rushed out the door, hopping onto Cheng Luan for the flight over to Qian Cao for his scheduled monthly checkup with Mu Qingfang. Bai Zhan was still and quiet when he left. It was always his goal to have gone and come back before his eldest disciples had even begun to stir in their beds. His disciples were nosy enough, especially that punk Yang Yixuan; they didn’t need to know their shizun was a borderline invalid.

Liu Qingge snorted at that thought as he stepped off Cheng Luan near Mu Qingfang’s private residence. He shouldn’t exaggerate, he certainly wasn’t incapable, but there were days that challenged him in ways he would never have imagined six-plus years ago. This morning the scars across his chest ached acutely, and he absently rubbed at them as Cheng Luan swung itself around and neatly slid into its sheath at his waist. Mu Qingfang must have been watching for him because in the next moment, the front door of the doctor’s residence slid open and the man waved him over. He looked harried and exhausted, robes rumpled and hair mussed as if he’d fallen asleep at his desk.

“Do you ever sleep?” Liu Qingge asked by way of greeting as he strode over and up the two steps leading to the porch.

Mu Qingfang gave him a humorless and wan smile. “Occasionally.” He stepped aside to usher his fellow peak lord over the threshold. “Come inside, Liu-shixiong. You know the drill.”

He did indeed know the drill. As he headed for the main room, Liu Qingge wasted no time stripping his robes off until his torso was bare, carefully folding the layers of cloth and setting them aside as he settled on his usual cushion on the floor. Mu Qingfang knelt across from him seconds later, holding out a silently demanding palm for Liu Qingge’s wrist. Liu Qingge stretched out his arm with no fuss; he’d learned quickly that these visits were over faster and went by much more pleasantly if he simply complied with the doctor’s commands. There was no need for fluster and bluster anymore, either; they both knew the ongoing state of his health was less than ideal. There was no point in trying to hide it, no point in trying to use his tattered pride as a shield from Mu Qingfang’s penetrating gaze. The Qian Cao peak lord would always find out what he wanted to know anyway, one way or another.

Mu Qingfang’s fingers were light and cool as they pressed against Liu Qingge’s inner wrist. There was a beat of silence while he assessed Liu Qingge’s vitals and the state of his qi, then he clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Where are you in pain?” he asked bluntly, without even looking up from his task. They had long since dropped the use of formal speech in this setting.

Liu Qingge sighed. “The scars on my chest are bothering me this morning,” he answered honestly.

Mu Qingfang hummed, nodding. “Anything else?”

“My collarbone was hurting last night.”

“I see.” Mu Qingfang released Liu Qingge’s wrist and leaned closer, peering at the scars lacing his torso. They seemed to itch under the inspection and Liu Qingge curled his fingers against his knees to keep his hands still and out of the way, resisting the urge to scratch and pick. The wounds Luo Binghe had given him with Xin Mo had long since closed but they hadn’t healed, not really. They still ached, sometimes throbbing as though they were fresh. On his better days, they merely itched and pulled. If he moved certain ways too fast or too sharp, the scars would sear with a stab of hot pain, almost like they were trying to reopen. Liu Qingge had known Xin Mo was a cursed blade, full of dark energy, but he hadn’t anticipated that his own golden core wouldn’t be able to fully overcome the sword’s lingering effects. It had been disappointing and frustrating to discover, to say the least.

For his part, Mu Qingfang had spent the last year studying the remnants of the cursed sword, poring over obscure and arcane texts looking for clues as to where he might find remedies or better yet, a cure, for their Bai Zhan War God’s infirmities, and doing his best to ease Liu Qingge’s discomfort. His dedication was incomparable and Liu Qingge was intensely grateful for his martial brother’s efforts, even if their interactions were sometimes gruff and brusque, like this one.

The doctor’s fingers slid along Liu Qingge’s collarbone next, leaving a soothing trail of warm qi behind. It settled into the aching bone and eased the pain. This injury was more conventional; Luo Binghe had managed to break Liu Qingge’s collarbone in one of their countless duels and the break simply hurt from time to time. Mu Qingfang had assured him it had healed perfectly but they both knew that once broken bones were never quite the same again.

“I sense nothing amiss here,” Mu Qingfang murmured, drawing his hand away. “The scars, however…” He leaned away and pushed to his feet, moving across the room to a heavy sideboard littered with jars of various shapes and sizes containing quantities of herbs and pastes and oils that Liu Qingge could never hope to name or understand the uses of. Mu Qingfang seemed deep in thought as he rifled through the jars, finally pulling one out from the far back of the collection. Liu Qingge could see it contained some kind of whitish-yellow paste. Mu Qingfang turned back toward him with the jar between his delicate fingers, holding it up for Liu Qingge’s inspection.

“This is ointment made from the Night Blooming Jade Flower from the far western forests. It’s known for its soothing and antiseptic properties. It’s worth a try alongside your usual treatments.”

Liu Qingge made an acknowledging noise. Mu Qingfang was the expert here. He held still as Mu Qingfang opened the jar and began smearing the paste across the old wounds lacing his skin. A steady stream of healing qi accompanied the ministrations and Liu Qingge felt himself relaxing bit by bit. The ointment smelled pleasant, like a verdant forest glade after a gentle rainfall. Before long, he had fallen into a half-meditative state which was only disturbed when Mu Qingfang finished his task and screwed the lid back on the jar, pressing it into Liu Qingge’s hand.

“Take it. Let me know if it helps,” he said quietly.

Liu Qingge stirred then, fingers curling around the jar. He nodded. “Thank you.”

Mu Qingfang shook his head. “Thank me when I finally find a true cure, not just another stop-gap treatment.”

Liu Qingge looked at Mu Qingfang, took in the dark circles under the man’s eyes, the tired downturn at the corners of his lips, and felt guilty for adding to his already constant and crushing workload. “I’m sorry,” he blurted before he could think better of it.

Mu Qingfang blinked at him. “Whatever for, Liu-shixiong?”

“For all of this.” Liu Qingge gestured helplessly, waving a hand at his own body. “For making you work harder.”

“This is my duty, you know that,” Mu Qingfang huffed, crossing his arms over his chest as he eyed his shixiong critically. “Don’t trouble yourself over my workload. Just focus on doing what you can to get better.”

Still, this should never have been necessary. I was the idiot who went and got beat up over and over. Liu Qingge swallowed the words back and nodded once, stiffly. Mu Qingfang looked as though he wanted to say something else for the space of a heartbeat before he sighed softly and moved on.

“I regret to say that I haven’t made much headway in my research this past month, but now that our stores have been replenished with all the summer plants we will need over the winter, I can focus on Xin Mo again. Luo Binghe has been most helpful in answering my questions.”

Liu Qingge looked up in alarm. “Luo Binghe is helping you?!”

“Peace, Liu-shixiong.” Mu Qingfang held up a hand placatingly. “He doesn’t know why I’m conducting research aside from professional curiosity. He seems plenty embarrassed at the way the sword controlled him, even now, and wants to do what he can to help us understand how it happened.”

Liu Qingge grumbled under his breath, his spine stiff at the thought of his recent arch-enemy ever learning of his current vulnerabilities. The damn demon would never let him live it down. As it was, only Mu Qingfang and the sect leader knew about his health status and he was perfectly content for it to stay that way.

“Though you should know that if I told Luo Binghe the truth,” Mu Qingfang continued, “he may be able to assist with a cure. Perhaps there’s something in the demon realm that is the missing element I need.” His expression was turning thoughtful, considering, head tilted to the side.

“No,” Liu Qingge said, low and fierce, squeezing the jar in his hand so tightly he could hear the glass creak. “I don’t need pity from Luo Binghe, of all people.” The very thought of it made his skin crawl.

Mu Qingfang shot him a look. “I sincerely doubt it would be pity so much as a genuine desire to make up for his actions,” he groused. “Maybe you would know that if you didn’t avoid Qing Jing and its peak lord like the plague.”

The glare Liu Qingge leveled at Mu Qingfang was undoubtedly murderous enough to have a lesser man shaking in his boots, but Mu Qingfang was reliably unflappable and unimpressed and beyond used to Liu Qingge’s fits of pique. He raised a shoulder in a shrug. “I’m only saying this because I still believe it would be beneficial for both you and Shen-shixiong if your relationship could be repaired.”

They had gone round and round on this topic over the past year, Mu Qingfang always firmly but gently pushing and Liu Qingge always firmly and stubbornly resisting. It wasn’t that Liu Qingge didn’t want to see Shen Qingqiu; he couldn’t deny that he did. But his pride and his honor were in such disarray that his face wouldn’t allow it. He wasn’t sure how he could ever show himself in front of Shen Qingqiu ever again with the wherewithal to stand straight and hold his chin high as he had in years past, knowing that he had failed the man so deeply. Failed in his duties as a martial brother and a fellow peak lord, failed in his vow to bring Shen Qingqiu home. He had tried but his best had proven inadequate.

Liu Qingge’s shoulders hunched. “I can’t face him,” he admitted quietly, turning his face away from Mu Qingfang, all his ire suddenly drained out of him to be replaced by weariness.

A resigned sigh filled the silence between them before Mu Qingfang’s fingers squeezed gently at Liu Qingge’s clenched fist where it rested on his knee. “One day you’re going to have to,” he said softly. “One day you’re going to have to forgive yourself, Qingge.”

Liu Qingge said nothing, just squeezed his eyes shut for a long moment against a wave of pain that made his chest ache. Physical pain he could deal with. Long years of training and experience had taught him how. But this pain he was ill-equipped for, always had been. His heart demons were the only beasts he couldn’t seem to conquer.

Mu Qingfang gave him a moment to pull himself together before returning to business, wisely choosing not to push any further on the previous topic. “Your qi is in reasonably good shape,” he reported, tone brisk. “I didn’t find any large blockages this time, only a few small ones that you should be able to clean out yourself with some focused meditation. As always, if this proves to be an issue, I expect you to come to me immediately. Do you understand?”

“I understand, Mu-shidi,” Liu Qingge answered dutifully.

“Good. Just please be careful not to overdo it.”

“I know.”

“I’ll take care of the report to Zhangmen-shixiong as soon as you leave,” Mu Qingfang added.

“Thank you.” Once again it seemed inadequate to say.

Mu Qingfang waved him off. “Just go back to your pack of hellions and try to take care of yourself.”

Despite himself, Liu Qingge’s lips twitched with amusement. He rose and slipped back into his robes, efficiently tying them closed and straightening his belt over the top. He dropped the jar into his quiankun pouch and gave Mu Qingfang a nod before heading for the door, leaving his fellow peak lord looking moody and obstinate. Liu Qingge felt a stab of sympathy for the Qian Cao disciples who would be subjected to their shizun’s mercurial moods for the rest of the day. Mu Qingfang always got that way after their visits; it seemed Liu Qingge wasn’t the only one mired in rumination on perceived failures and shortcomings.

He arrived back at his quarters on Bai Zhan with enough time to settle down for some light meditation, as suggested by Mu Qingfang. It was relatively easy to suss out the small blockages in his spiritual veins once he quieted his mind and turned fully inward; circulating his qi carefully and methodically cleared them out without much discomfort. He was thankful for that. Sometimes forcing his own qi past the blockages hurt something fierce and sometimes he required Mu Qingfang’s assistance. It had ceased being embarrassing after the first handful of times he’d had to seek out the doctor’s aid but it still rankled. He hated being so helpless and weak that he had to rely on someone else, even if that someone was a healer.

A tapping at his door roused him, pulling him slowly back to the waking world half a shichen later. Liu Qingge felt groggy, which used to be something he only had to fight off after a deep meditative state but that now accompanied all meditation. It took him a few moments to realize someone was at the door, his senses unforgivably sluggish.

“Shizun?” Yang Yixuan’s voice came from the outside, tentative but concerned. How long had his head disciple been standing there? It must have been a while to prompt him to call out in this manner, which he never did.

“Come in,” Liu Qingge called, quickly scrubbing his hands over his face in an attempt to wake up just a bit more before he had to deal with someone who wasn’t Mu Qingfang.

The door opened and light footsteps crossed the floor until Yang Yixuan was standing in the doorway leading into Liu Qingge’s inner rooms, a tray of breakfast in his hands and his strong brows furrowed as he took in the sight of his shizun still in lotus position on the floor. “Shizun, is everything alright?” the young man dared to inquire, obviously thrown by the fact that his master had not greeted him at the door as usual, nor even risen from his repose as it turned out.

Liu Qingge looked up at him, blinking. When had Yang Yixuan grown so tall? His dark hair had grown long too, swept back in a ponytail reminiscent of Liu Qingge’s own. He wondered where all the time had gone that he had wasted during those five years. His head disciple had grown up completely without his permission when he hadn’t been looking. The realization made Liu Qingge feel old.

He waved a hand toward the front room behind Yang Yixuan. “Put the food on the table.” As his disciple turned to obey, Liu Qingge began to drag himself up from the floor, answering the young man’s question as he did so. “And it seems I fell deeper into meditation than I anticipated, is all.”

Yang Yixuan looked somewhat unconvinced but didn’t comment as he set the tray down and arranged the dishes with speed and efficiency borne of years of practice and familiarity. He was pouring the tea when Liu Qingge seated himself at the table. When the young man finished, he stepped back and began to run down his master’s schedule for the day while Liu Qingge ate. Once upon a time, he didn’t need to eat but Mu Qingfang had forbidden him from practicing inedia since they had first become aware that the injuries Xin Mo had inflicted weren’t entirely healing as expected. Liu Qingge was so used to this morning routine with his head disciple now that he could scarcely imagine ever returning to his prior ways. It was one of the few blessings this whole mess had bestowed on him: time spent in Yang Yixuan’s presence outside of a combative environment, time he had spent gradually getting to know the boy.

“In the afternoon, Liu Mingyan has requested a shichen’s time for an audience with Shizun,” Yang Yixuan informed him after he had listed off the morning’s training schedules. “Depending on Shizun’s answer, this disciple will send a reply to Liu Mingyan directly upon leaving Shizun’s quarters.”

Liu Qingge paused with his teacup halfway to his mouth. Liu Mingyan wanted to see him? It had been several weeks since he had last spoken to his sister but that was normal for them. She was busy as Qi Qingqi’s head disciple and he always seemed to have something to attend to as the Bai Zhan Peak Lord. They both understood that their duties would often keep them apart but they also understood that the affection and bond between them wasn’t threatened by that absence. Mingyan was one of only a very short list of people in the world Liu Qingge would willingly drop everything for.

If his sister wanted to see him, then she would see him.

“Send word to my sister that she is welcome here at my quarters at her convenience this afternoon.”

“Yes, Shizun.”

Heavens knew there was plenty of neglected paperwork he could catch up on while he waited for her.

+++

It was nearing the supper hour when Liu Qingge heard his sister announce herself at his door. He’d been working on the stack of missives and forms that had piled up on his desk for a full shichen now and had managed to create a sizeable dent. He had somehow lost himself in the monotony of the task, usually the thing he hated about it, becoming engrossed in the neverending minutiae of the day-to-day functions of his peak. As he finished with them, he sorted the papers into various stacks so they could be sent to the proper recipients or filed accordingly. By far the biggest pile was requisition forms to be delivered to An Ding peak. Shang Qinghua wouldn’t be pleased at all, Liu Qingge suspected. The idea gave him a quiet, fiercely petty sense of satisfaction.

The task had given him a chance to shut his wandering thoughts off, to block out the sound of Mu Qingfang’s voice in his head, prodding him to reconnect with Shen Qingqiu. Now that he’d been interrupted, however, he was glad for the excuse to take a break, stand up and stretch his bunched shoulders as he went to the door to greet his guest.

Liu Mingyan smiled when she saw him, her pretty eyes crinkling above her veil. “Brother,” she said brightly, inclining her head with the appropriate amount of respect a peak lord ought to be shown, sibling or not. “It is good to see you.”

“Likewise, Mingyan.” He ushered her over the threshold. “Come in.”

“Am I interrupting anything important?” she asked, as he closed the door behind her. She must be eyeing his workspace and its organized chaos.

“No, no,” Liu Qingge assured her as they moved deeper into the room. “I was due for a break, anyway.”

“In that case, it seems I arrived at the perfect time.” Liu Mingyan seated herself at his table, on the cushion she always sat on when she visited, settling herself elegantly and adjusting her robes with smooth practiced motions.

Liu Qingge took a seat across from her. “How have you been since we last saw each other?”

“I have been well,” Mingyan replied, settling her hands in her lap. “I have been practicing a new form of meditation.”

“Oh? Tell me about it.”

Liu Mingyan had just wrapped up her explanation and finished answering her brother’s questions when a light tapping at the door interrupted them. Liu Qingge could guess who it was.

“Shizun, I’ve brought tea,” Yang Yixuan said from outside the door. The boy was watchful and attentive, Liu Qingge had to admit. He very rarely had to request things from his head disciple.

Upon being given permission to enter, Yang Yixuan swept in with the tea tray, head bowed. “Shizun, Liu-shijie,” he said quietly, kneeling at the table to serve them tea. He had inherited broad hands from his blacksmith father, well-suited to working a forge, but they handled the teaware with an impressive gentleness and care. Liu Qingge wondered where he had learned such refinement. It certainly hadn’t come from him; Liu Qingge tended to handle his sword with more care than he showed to his household items. Perhaps Luo Binghe had instructed Yang Yixuan. The two had been friendly enough before Liu Qingge had started avoiding Qing Jing peak and the disciple had somewhat reluctantly mirrored his master’s actions by staying away.

Liu Qingge wasn’t sure how to feel about all of that. Had he cost his disciple a friendship in exchange for his own comfort?

Liu Mingyan made light conversation with Yang Yixuan as the disciple completed his task. The young man engaged with her readily enough but Liu Qingge didn’t miss the faint flush high on his cheekbones. Mingyan unfortunately had this effect on men of all ages. Liu Qingge tried not to bristle in protectiveness over his sister; Yang Yixuan was too principled to try anything untoward. Moreover, he wasn’t an idiot.

Still, when his disciple rose to leave them to their tea, Liu Qingge’s voice came out somewhat sharper than he’d intended as he ordered supper be brought for both of them.

When they were alone again, Mingyan fixed him with a fondly exasperated look over the rim of her teacup. “Qingge, behave yourself. Yang Yixuan is harmless.”

Liu Qingge frowned into his own teacup. “I know,” he muttered dourly. “And I know you can take care of yourself.”

Mingyan leaned forward, trying to catch his eye. “I do appreciate the sentiment, all the same,” she said with a hint of laughter in her voice. “Perhaps you’ll get the chance to defend my honor on the journey home next week.”

“What?” Liu Qingge’s gaze snapped up to his sister’s. “What are you talking about?”

“The reason I came today was to tell you that I received the invitation for the Mid-Autumn Festival two days ago. I sent a reply saying we would both be coming home for it.”

Liu Qingge’s mouth dropped open. His sister held his gaze, entirely unrepentant for this betrayal. “You-! Why would you reply on my behalf?!” he hissed in outrage.

“Because I know you wouldn’t have gone,” Liu Mingyan answered bluntly, arching a brow pointedly. “And I would have had to concoct some inane excuse to tell our relatives about why you aren’t there, like I’ve done for the last five years.”

Liu Qingge huffed but didn’t deny anything. His sister was right, he would have sent a reply bowing out of the festivities once again, less than enthused about facing his parents and other relatives in the wake of his Luo-Binghe-related exploits. He knew his reputation had suffered during those five years and very strongly didn’t wish to have to explain any of it or answer any questions from anyone about it. He especially didn’t want to have to explain the most visible of his scars.

The scar on his throat itched and he resisted the urge to rub at it, tightening his grip around his teacup.

“Mother would be terribly disappointed if you didn’t come again this year,” Liu Mingyan added in a softer tone. “She’s worried about you.”

Liu Qingge closed his eyes for a moment, sighing. He had known this would happen eventually, that he wouldn’t be able to keep running from his family indefinitely. As the firstborn child and the only son of his parents, it was downright unfilial of him to keep brushing off his family obligations. He could only use the excuse of his peak lord duties for so long before it began to ring hollow. More than that, he couldn’t bear disappointing his little sister.

“When are we leaving?” he asked stiltedly, internally cursing himself for his weakness. “I’ll have to inform the sect leader.”

His response delighted Liu Mingyan and she immediately began to tell him the details of the journey she had worked out. The Liu clan estate was a solid five or six days’ worth of travel from Cang Qiong and the route would take them through thick forests and a mountain pass as well as through several post towns of varying sizes. Though it had been years since Liu Qingge had made the trek, he still remembered it well.

“Bring your head disciple,” Liu Mingyan suggested after she had gotten his agreement on all the prior details. “It’s a chance to show him off to Mother and Father and lend some credence to the reasons behind your absence the last several years.”

Liu Qingge eyed her suspiciously. “What did you tell them?”

“Vague things mostly.” Mingyan waved a hand. “But I did say that you were wholly invested in the training and development of your head disciple.”

That was somewhat less awful than he’d been expecting. He could work with this. But still, the whole thing was inconvenient. “Who’s going to run my peak, then, if both my head disciple and myself are gone?” he groused, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Don’t pout at me, Brother,” Liu Mingyan chided with some amusement. “Your peak is your business, you’ll have to figure it out on your own!”

Liu Qingge huffed. He did not pout, thank you very much!

When Yang Yixuan came in some time later to bring them their food, Liu Qingge nonetheless informed the boy he would be leaving with them on their journey and to make arrangements for a suitable temporary stand-in for his own role of head disciple. Liu Qingge’s peak was indeed his own business, as his sister said, and that meant he could delegate.

Yang Yixuan’s eyes were wide as he bowed to his master. “Yes, Shizun, right away, Shizun!” The young man nearly tripped on his own feet as he rushed out the door, flustered by the sudden change in his situation.

Liu Mingyan shook her head as she picked up her chopsticks. “He’s enthusiastic and diligent. I think Mother and Father will think you’ve done a fine job with him.”

She spoke as if she wasn’t a fellow head disciple herself. Liu Qingge snorted. “I can’t take too much credit. He’s a good boy, if a bit overly exuberant at times.”

“Surely it’s nothing you can’t handle, Great Master Liu,” Mingyan teased with a light laugh.

“Aiyah, now you need to behave yourself,” Liu Qingge admonished while pointing at her with his chopsticks. He tried to sound gruff but the corners of his lips were twitching into an unwilling smile, which was certainly his sister’s intention to begin with. She could almost always succeed in lightening his mood.

He felt a little less conflicted about returning home in that moment. Perhaps it would all be fine. Perhaps he could afford to indulge in some time away from the sect, clear his head, and hopefully, his heart.

Chapter 2

Notes:

I have a few chapters already written for this fic and I will do my best to stay ahead so I can post regularly.

Thanks for reading and I'd appreciate you forever if you leave kudos and a comment! It's the lifeblood us writers thrive on <3

It was mid-morning when Liu Qingge arrived on Qiong Ding peak, a bundle of forms tucked into his belt to be given to the sect leader. He hadn’t announced his arrival beforehand, as was typical. The peak disciples in the vicinity of his landing on Cheng Luan were only momentarily startled by his sudden appearance and it only took a few minutes before the head disciple bustled over and greeted him, appearing mysteriously from somewhere further inside the peak. Liu Qingge didn’t pretend to understand how other peaks functioned in comparison to his own.

“Good morning, Peak Lord Liu. This disciple assumes you wish to speak with Sect Leader Yue?” The young man bowed to him respectfully as he spoke. Yue Qingyuan made certain his disciples were unfailingly well-mannered.

Liu Qingge nodded once. “That would be correct.” There was a pause while Cheng Luan sheathed itself at his waist, then the head disciple spoke again.

“This way, please, Peak Lord Liu.”

The disciple led him off in the direction of Qiong Ding’s gardens, to Liu Qingge’s surprise. Yue Qingyuan didn’t usually work outside his private office so the fact that he was in the gardens must mean he had another guest. Likely another of the peak lords. The sect leader had instructed his disciples years ago that whenever Liu Qingge showed up on Qiong Ding he was to be admitted to his presence forthwith, regardless of what else was happening. This had been instated in the early days of Liu Qingge’s battles with Luo Binghe, when it had been a priority of Yue Qingyuan’s to know the status of their War God’s quest on a daily basis, but it had carried over into the present, long after Shen Qingqiu had returned to them in some shape and form. Liu Qingge suspected it hadn’t changed due to his health status. Yue Qingyuan could be nosy in the quietest ways, after all.

Liu Qingge was not so much a brute that he couldn’t admit that the gardens on the central peak were beyond beautiful. Bai Zhan had nothing of the sort; it wouldn’t last long under the regular onslaught of all the sparring and dueling among disciples or between himself and his students. The training grounds needed frequent maintenance, scarred and pitted from the force of the blows exchanged, and even buildings were occasionally damaged. Liu Qingge had once left a trench several meters deep in the ground that stretched for several hundred, taking out a fence and a supply shed. Yang Yixuan had managed to dodge the strike in a display of speed and agility that Liu Qingge hadn’t known the boy was capable of at the time.

He followed the disciple along the winding gravel path silently, taking in the sight of trees bedecked in vibrant autumn colors. Flaming red maple leaves crunched softly underfoot and floated past on the waters of the burbling stream nearby. They passed statuary and stone lanterns. They crossed the zig-zag bridge over the stream and entered the most central part of the gardens. Just ahead rose the pavilion where the sect leader would meet with guests when the weather permitted and the fancy struck him.

As they walked closer, Liu Qingge heard him before he saw him. A familiar voice he hadn’t heard in months. His steps faltered for the briefest moment.

“Shizun,” the head disciple called out as they drew near. “Peak Lord Liu here to see you, sir.”

Then Liu Qingge was standing at the bottom of the pavilion steps, hesitating as if he were on a cliff edge instead. He was barely aware of Yue Qingyuan thanking his disciple and dismissing him. His gaze had fallen on the other person seated in the pavilion, his fellow peak lord, dressed in flowing layers of green and white, dark hair long and loose in the gentle breeze, adorned with a simple hair crown, a painted fan fluttering in one hand.

Shen Qingqiu.

Liu Qingge wanted to turn and flee. It took iron control over every muscle in his body to not do so.

“Ah, Qingge, come on up and have a seat.” Yue Qingyuan’s smooth voice intruded on Liu Qingge’s internal panic. “No need to stay down there.”

Liu Qingge pulled his eyes away from Shen Qingqiu, who was looking a bit surprised at the familiar way Yue Qingyuan had addressed him, and forced himself to focus on the sect leader instead as he mounted the steps. Yue Qingyuan’s pleasant features were open and welcoming, lips turned up in a gentle smile. His dark eyes watched Liu Qingge in return, giving him a swift once-over from head to toe, no doubt looking for signs of his ailments. Liu Qingge remembered that Yue Qingyuan would have received a report from Mu Qingfang just the previous day. Liu Qingge’s spine straightened a bit under his leader’s scrutiny.

“Zhangmen-shixiong,” he greeted with a little bow when he’d joined them on the pavilion platform. “Shen Qingqiu.”

Shen Qingqiu dipped his head. “Liu-shidi.” His gaze came back up, eyes smiling even as the rest of his expression was hidden behind his fan. “It is good to see you.”

“It’s been a while,” Liu Qingge murmured, trying to ignore the sudden heat in his cheeks. “Are you well?”

Shen Qingqiu nodded, hair swaying, as effortlessly elegant as always. “This master is doing very well. Thank you for asking, shidi.”

This polite exchange was the most they had spoken in the better part of a year, ever since Shen Qingqiu had married Luo Binghe. Liu Qingge ignored the ache that thought brought to his heart, pulling his papers free of his belt and stepping closer to lay them before Yue Qingyuan.

“I apologize for the delay in getting these forms to you,” he said a bit sheepishly.

Yue Qingyuan accepted the paperwork, picking it up and briefly paging through the stack before rolling the papers up again and tucking them securely into his own belt. “Thank you, Qingge. I know you’ve been busy. Don’t trouble yourself over it.” He paused and motioned at an empty seat nearby. “Sit and let’s talk. I assume you didn’t come all this way simply to drop off paperwork that your head disciple could have brought.”

Liu Qingge huffed as he took a seat, casting a glance in Shen Qingqiu’s direction. He really had planned on having this conversation with less of an audience but the Qing Jing peak lord didn’t seem inclined to leave, merely sipping his tea and waving his fan idly, a deeply ingrained unconscious motion. Liu Qingge let his eyes linger for another moment before he scolded himself for looking at another man’s husband, and turned back to the sect leader.

“I came to inform you that I have accepted the invitation to return home for my family’s Mid-Autumn festivities.” No one else ever need know how his little sister had bullied him into it. “I expect to be gone for a few weeks. I will also be bringing my head disciple with me. Yang Yixuan is in charge of appointing a replacement. I will inform you of who that person is before we depart, on the off chance that you need to deal with Bai Zhan for any reason during my absence.”

“Ah, very good, shidi.” Yue Qingyuan looked pleased. “I am grateful for the information and appreciate your consideration in letting me know of your plans.” The sect leader’s eyes darted away to Shen Qingqiu for the briefest of moments; Liu Qingge thought he caught Shen Qingqiu minutely shaking his head at Yue Qingyuan. Then Yue Qingyuan’s gaze swung back. “It will do you good to spend some time with your family, I think.”

Fuck, Liu Qingge hoped so. He hoped with every fiber of his being that it wouldn’t end up being a disaster, that he wouldn’t end up being miserable the entire time. He’d had just about enough misery for one lifetime, or at least for the next handful of decades. Most days anymore all he wanted to do was go back to bed. He was exhausted by everything that had happened over the last six years.

“It has been over five years since I’ve been home,” he murmured by way of agreement.

“Long overdue, then,” Yue Qingyuan said with a soft smile.

“Of course, if you need me for anything, don’t hesitate to summon me back to the sect,” Liu Qingge felt the need to add. While not the longest time he’d ever spent away from Cang Qiong, this would be the longest he’d ever been away from his duties in more than a decade. The last time he’d gone home for the Mid-Autumn Festival, he hadn’t even stayed for the whole thing.

“Of course, shidi. I’ll know where to contact you. But don’t worry yourself about matters here and just enjoy the time away.” Yue Qingyuan’s look was pointed and meaningful. After all, Mu Qingfang had been trying to get him to take some time off for months on end now. The man would probably be gleeful when he heard that Bai Zhan’s lord was headed home for a while.

“I received your report yesterday,” Yue Qingyuan continued carefully, holding Liu Qingge’s gaze, dark eyes silently asking for trust in the moment. “Everything looks satisfactory enough. There have been no major changes?”

“None,” Liu Qingge replied succinctly, immensely grateful that his leader had the tact and skill to both directly address the other issue they would have discussed openly in greater privacy and still keep it vague enough that Shen Qingqiu’s suspicions wouldn’t be aroused. Liu Qingge could happily go the rest of his immortal life without Shen Qingqiu ever learning of his most closely guarded secrets, no matter how he felt about the man.

Yue Qingyuan nodded, shoulders slumping the slightest bit, whether in relief or disappointment Liu Qingge couldn’t tell. “If anything changes, I expect to be informed immediately, as always,” the sect leader murmured.

Liu Qingge inclined his head in acknowledgment but said nothing more on the topic. He stayed long enough to have a cup of tea, mostly listening to the other men talk. Then he excused himself and headed out of the garden swiftly, telling himself he wasn’t really running away. He didn’t notice the conflicted green eyes that watched him go from behind a painted fan.

+++

The night was silent and still when Liu Qingge woke up long past midnight, surfacing from his nightmare with a desperate cry and frantic struggling of limbs. He fought until he’d managed to free himself of his blankets, tangled as they were around his legs. In his sleep-addled state, they had felt like something else entirely, fueling his mindless panic. At the conclusion of this fight, as he at last pulled his second leg free, he tipped himself right off the edge of the bed, tumbling onto the floor with a solid thump and a surprised grunt. The impact startled him into wakefulness and out of his fitful state. Liu Qingge lay on the floor, propped up on a shaking arm, trying to regulate his breathing. His spine was slicked with sweat, cool against the chill in the air. His hair, loose around his shoulders, was wild and tangled. His other hand came up to unsteadily push limp strands out of his face as he heaved a sigh.

It had been a long time since he had had this particular nightmare. He didn’t dream often but every now and again, this one would rear its ugly head, bringing back the most unpleasant memories of his younger years. He suspected the impending trip to Liu clan territory had something to do with this timing.

Pushing himself upright so he could sit with his back leaning against the side of his bed, Liu Qingge drew his knees up and bowed his head toward them, trembling hands pushing into his hair and gripping tight. The grim realization hit him that he ought to consider the whereabouts of Deng Rouhuan, the only person in the world he wanted to see less than Luo Binghe.

He would have to make some discreet inquiries. The last thing he needed was to walk into a situation unprepared. At least having an inkling of what he might be dealing with gave him back a modicum of control and that thought was comforting enough for his hands to finally steady and his breathing to even out.

He continued to sit where he was for an unknown length of time, staring ahead into the darkness of his bedroom, thoughts empty before he finally stirred, climbing back up into bed and straightening the covers that had become so skewed they had trailed off toward the floor. He then lay quietly on his back staring at the ceiling for another unknown amount of time. Just as he was beginning to think he wouldn’t be getting any more sleep, exhaustion won out.

His sleep this time was mercifully dreamless.

+++

The following afternoon found Liu Qingge back on Qiong Ding peak, being shown to Yue Qingyuan’s office by the head disciple. The boy had appeared mildly surprised to see him stepping off Cheng Luan for the second time in twenty-four hours but it was easy to see that the sect leader was even more taken aback.

“Qingge!” he exclaimed, looking up from his desk strewn with brushes, inkwells, and seemingly endless piles of paperwork. The man’s thick brows hiked toward his hairline. “What brings you back so soon?”

Liu Qingge shifted in the doorway uncomfortably. “I have a request to make.”

Yue Qingyuan waved toward the seat opposite him. “Come, sit, tell me what you need.”

Closing the door behind him, Liu Qingge sat and folded his hands in his lap in an effort to not fidget. “Forgive this shidi but I must ask for information from your network.”

The sect leader was looking both more intrigued and more alarmed by the second. He laid his brush down and abandoned his work in favor of giving Liu Qingge his full attention. “What happened? Do I need to be worried?”

“Nothing happened,” Liu Qingge replied hurriedly, his fingers tightening around each other where they lay. “I just need to track down a family friend before I go home for the festival.”

Yue Qingyuan was watching him closely. A beat of silence passed before the man spoke. “As always, there are no guarantees there will be any information to find but I can send word out to the network this evening.”

Liu Qingge nodded. “And please, if we could keep this between us.”

The sect leader heard clearly what he wasn’t saying: it would be appreciated if Shen Qingqiu was kept out of this matter, despite being the typical first line of contact when it came to dealing with the sect’s ring of informants and spies. “I assume this is why you didn’t bring this up yesterday when Shen-shidi was here,” Yue Qingyuan mused.

Liu Qingge hummed, neither confirming nor denying, not eager to admit that he had been spurred to this by a bad dream in the wee hours of that very morning. He didn’t really think Yue Qingyuan would make any kind of judgments about him on a personal level but he’d still rather not have to talk about it.

“Very well,” Yue Qingyuan said in a business-like tone. “Who are you trying to locate?”

Liu Qingge hesitated; he had not even spoken the man’s name aloud in many years. The sounds were foreign and awkward on his tongue when he finally managed to say, “Deng Rouhuan. A contemporary of my father’s.”

Yue Qingyuan was already reaching for a fresh sheet of paper to write on. “A distinctive name. Shouldn’t be too difficult to find him.” He reached again for his brush and the closest inkwell to begin writing the missive that would jumpstart the movement of information along the chain of informers. “I’ll add instructions that any relevant information should be delivered directly to me.”

“Thank you,” Liu Qingge murmured, watching the sect leader’s steady brushstrokes in a daze. There was silence, not unpleasant. It gave him time to come to terms with the fact that this was something he had to do, that he was heading into a situation that warranted it.

Eventually, the paper was folded intricately and sealed with wax, stamped with the sect insignia. Yue Qingyuan rose and went to the door, stepping out to call his head disciple. Liu Qingge listened to the murmur of their voices without moving, without hearing any of their words.

When Yue Qingyuan returned, he informed Liu Qingge, “It is done and on the way.” He sat down again, eyeing Bai Zhan’s lord ponderously. “Are you alright, Qingge?”

Liu Qingge jolted at the question, coming out of his detached reverie to see the sect leader looking at him with some concern. That expression made him feel raw and for a crazed moment, he considered telling the other man everything that troubled him, from start to finish. It had been such a long time since anyone had asked him that question and didn’t mean it in a perfunctory or medical sort of way. As Bai Zhan’s peak lord and the sect’s War God, he was expected to be strong and put together, capable and resilient. It was taken for granted, truthfully. And he was all those things, but also so many more things, fragile and delicate things that he did his best to hide. He was apparently very competent at it.

He gave Yue Qingyuan a tiny thin smile. “I’m fine.” When it seemed the sect leader was about to speak again, he added, “I’ve taken enough of your time. Thank you for your assistance, Zhangmen-shixiong. I’ll see myself out.” He pushed himself up from his seat.

Yue Qingyuan frowned the slightest bit. “Any time, shidi. I’ll inform you as soon as I hear anything.” He clearly wanted to say more but in the end, held his peace and let Liu Qingge slip from the room uncontested.

On the way out to the central courtyard, Yue Qingyuan’s head disciple was nowhere to be seen. Now all Liu Qingge had to do was wait.

+++

Two days later, Yang Yixuan bought him a letter in the evening, just as Liu Qingge was beginning to prepare for bed. He hadn’t stripped out of his outer robes just yet but he had taken his hair down and it spilled around his shoulders like black ink. When he answered the door, his head disciple tried not to stare; this was definitely the most undone the boy had ever seen him. Liu Qingge appreciated the effort.

“Shizun,” Yang Yixuan said, offering up the letter in his hands. “This just arrived with a messenger from Qiong Ding.”

Liu Qingge took the document, an amount of trepidation rising in his chest at what it might contain. “Thank you.”

“Does Shizun require anything while this disciple is here?”

“No.” Liu Qingge jerked his chin in the direction of the trainee dorms. “Go get some rest.”

“Yes, Shizun.” Yang Yixuan inclined his head respectfully before striding off in the direction of his quarters, leaving his master alone with the letter he both needed to read and desperately did not want to.

Retreating back into his bedroom, Liu Qingge broke the seal on the letter and opened it swiftly, before he could think twice. Lines of scribbled characters met his eyes and it took him a moment to focus and begin reading.

Deng Rouhuan was last seen in Doho City three days ago. When he departed, he traveled west. Talk around town is that he has been a traveling cultivator for the last several years and has some notable accomplishments to his name.

Liu Qingge stared at the words. Doho City wasn’t that far from the eastern edges of Liu clan territory. It wasn’t unreasonable to assume Deng Rouhuan was headed for the family estate, especially if he had traveled west from the city. Liu Qingge’s fingers tightened around the paper until it was crumpled. It was just as he had feared.

He burned the paper and didn't sleep that night.

Chapter 3

Notes:

Hello again, lovelies! Hope everyone had a great Halloween <3 I also hope this chapter is enjoyable; lots of dialogue here. What can I say? In this house, we stan Mu Qingfang!

As always. kudos and comments are highly appreciated!

The sound of clanging swords and cheering disciples drew Liu Qingge to Bai Zhan's training grounds early the next morning. Yang Yixuan had brought his breakfast hurriedly just as the sun was peeking over the horizon, before excusing himself and hurrying off to who knew where. Liu Qingge's curiosity was piqued; his head disciple was up to something. He ate quickly and headed out to investigate the growing clamor on his peak.

He was tired, his mind a thick sludge, and he was glad for the distraction. He hadn't bothered to look at his reflection in his bronze mirror but he supposed he looked as awful as he felt. He tried to make up for it with the confidence in his strides and the firm set of his shoulders, chin high.

At the training grounds, Liu Qingge found a crowd gathered. It seemed every single one of his disciples was there, standing in clusters, leaning on fences, talking amongst themselves, and yelling and whistling when the action in the ring called for it. The senior disciples seemed to be facing off with each other in pairs, engaged in sword bouts followed by hand-to-hand grappling until someone came out victorious. He stood toward the back to watch; none of the students had noticed him yet, too caught up in the competition. Normally he would chide them for their lack of awareness but he held his tongue, interested in the goings-on.

Several rounds of combat later, Liu Qingge thought he understood what was going on, but for what purpose he couldn't guess. The victor of each duel was further pitted against another victor, narrowing the field each time. Eventually, it would be down to two final opponents who would face off, ostensibly the best of what Bai Zhan had to offer among its student body. Conspicuously missing from all the fighting, however, was Yang Yixuan. He was far more competent than any of these senior disciples; none would have been able to best him. It was why he was head disciple, after all, and Liu Qingge's favored student.

Liu Qingge searched the crowd for Yang Yixuan, brows furrowed, only to hear the young man's voice hailing him just loud enough to be heard in their immediate vicinity. He turned to see Yang Yixuan striding over to him, a scorekeeping tablet in one hand, ponytail swaying.

"Shizun!"

Liu Qingge gestured to the gathering. "What's this all about?"

Yang Yixuan grinned, his eyes twinkling in excitement. "Shizun tasked this disciple with appointing his temporary replacement so this one thought a duel among the seniors would be the best way to find a candidate."

Unbidden, Liu Qingge's lips quirked in a small smile. How very appropriate for a place like Bai Zhan, where strength was valued above all. The winner of the competition would prove their mettle and earn the respect of the other students, while simultaneously making Yang Yixuan's job of choosing easier.

"Clever boy," he said fondly, clapping Yang Yixuan on the shoulder with gruff affection.

Yang Yixuan's grin widened even more. "Thank you, Shizun. This disciple is pleased you approve of his methods."

"I did tell you choosing a replacement was up to you. How you do that is your business." Liu Qingge crossed his arms over his chest as he studied his disciple.

Yang Yixuan looked pleased as could be, not even bothering to hide it. He inclined his head. "This disciple thanks Shizun for his faith in him."

Liu Qingge barely held back a snort. Ah, this kid! He really took too much joy in his master's validation and praise, even as sparing as it was. He really had taken a few lessons from Luo Binghe it seemed. “Don’t get so caught up that you neglect your other preparations. Start packing tonight, if you haven’t already. We depart in two days’ time.”

“Yes, Shizun.” Yang Yixuan bowed, trying for solemnity even as the grin remained firmly fixed on his lips. “This disciple will be ready.”

Shaking his head, Liu Qingge left his band of brutes to take his own advice, and begin packing.

+++

By that evening, Liu Qingge had set aside everything he thought he might need for the trip. It was frustrating; this wasn’t like packing for a mission in the field, where he traveled light and knew exactly what he needed, all of it practical and no-frills. A festival among family and friends, however, called for a vastly different inventory. He’d drug out his two fanciest sets of robes from the depths of his wardrobe, the ones he had for inter-sect functions and imperial court appearances. There would be at least one night of formal feasting, if not two or three, which would call for something more grandiose than his day-to-day wear. He agonized for an embarrassingly long time over whether the intricate robes laid out on his bed were too fancy, in which case he would have nothing to wear for the banquets. Finally, he’d decided to pack them anyway, deciding with a huff that he could just ask his sister’s opinion later. Then there were the hair crowns that matched the robes, complex pieces he knew Mingyan would have to help him with.

He’d forgotten how exhausting trying to play the role of the filial eldest son was.

He was just about to start folding up the second set of robes when there was a tapping at his door. He sighed; why was he receiving so many visitors lately? Couldn’t people just leave him alone for a day? With the outer robe draped over his arm, he stomped to the door and flung it open, ready to yell at whoever was on the other side.

Mu Qingfang stood there, arms crossed over his chest and a hip cocked, a sardonic brow arched. “Good evening, Qingge.You look like someone took a shit in your bed.”

Liu Qingge was momentarily thrown enough that his inkling to scream his frustration at his unfortunate guest morphed into a stab of sudden bewildered humor. He barked a laugh. “What the fuck, Qingfang.”

Mu Qingfang’s expression relaxed a bit, evidently pleased that he had succeeded in knocking his fellow peak lord out of his apparent funk. “May I come in?”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Liu Qingge stepped aside. Mu Qingfang sauntered into his home like he owned the place, completely at ease. Liu Qingge shook his head and closed the door. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

Mu Qingfang shot him a look over his shoulder. “I had some free time so I thought I’d check in on you, and see how you’re doing before you leave on your trip.”

Liu Qingge groaned. “How did you find out about it?”

“Zhangmen-shixiong told me. Who else?” Mu Qingfang’s gaze narrowed. “I know you’re my worst patient, Qingge, but you didn’t think I needed to know you’re leaving for a while?”

“I honestly didn’t even think of informing you,” Liu Qingge admitted. He had the good grace to be somewhat sheepish about it.

Mu Qingfang sighed as if all the world rested on his shoulders. Liu Qingge supposed in some ways, that was true. This man was largely responsible for keeping the sect functioning and in one piece on a daily basis, and heaven knew a majority of his patients were unpleasant to deal with, to say the least. Himself included. “And this is exactly why I fear one day you won’t return to us when you leave. You have absolutely no sense of self-preservation.”

“I’m…sorry?” Liu Qingge didn’t really know what else to say to that statement. “I know I can be reckless.”

“Reckless, he says.” Mu Qingfang laughed, though there wasn’t much humor in it. He shook his head. “You are truly something else, Qingge.” The doctor turned fully to face him, arms still crossed. “The sect leader was concerned about making sure you would have all the medical items you may need on the journey, so I’m here to see to it that you pack all those things, and don’t conveniently forget them or leave them behind.”

Liu Qingge shifted on the spot where he stood, unwilling to look at his fellow peak lord’s face. He hadn’t even considered any of this just yet in his packing; it was also entirely believable that he might simply forget about all of it as well. He hadn’t traveled this long and far from the sect in the past year, so he hadn’t had to consider not being home in a day or less should he need access to any of his medicines. He was suddenly thankful for the reminder, and that someone had cared enough to remind him. “Thank you.”

Mu Qingfang sighed quietly. “Of course, Qingge,” he said softly. “It’s what I’m here for. Both the sect leader and I care a great deal for your welfare.”

The words brought a muddled mix of warmth and guilt to Liu Qingge’s chest. It must have shown on his face because Mu Qingfang’s expression became one of fond exasperation. “Don’t go feeling guilty about needing a prompt,” he said knowingly. “Or for making us worry about you. You’re independent and strong and not used to having people in your business. I get it. But believe me when I say that Yue-shixiong and I worry about you because we care, not because you’re weak or any other reason. No need to feel guilty.”

Liu Qingge’s cheeks flamed and his hand smoothed the fabric of the robe over his arm nervously. “I just hate being a burden,” he muttered weakly.

“You’re not a burden,” Mu Qingfang exclaimed, letting his arms fall as he approached the other man, reaching out to gently still the harried movement of Liu Qingge’s hand. “Is that really what you’ve been thinking all this time?”

Liu Qingge lifted a shoulder in a shrug, not meeting Mu Qingfang’s eyes when he tried to catch his gaze. This conversation had taken a hard and fast turn into territory that he had never voiced out loud to anyone and he was admittedly a bit terrified. His silence was telling, answer enough in itself.

“Oh, Qingge.” Mu Qingfang sounded heartbroken. “I’m so sorry you feel that way.”

Liu Qingge shrugged again, uncomfortable with the topic. “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not fine!” Mu Qingfang sounded distressed now.

“Can we please just forget about it and talk about something else?” Liu Qingge pleaded, finally looking up and into his friend’s face, his own brows knitted tightly.

For a tense, seemingly endless moment, Mu Qingfang looked mutinous, like he was going to pursue the discussion. Shake it, gnaw at it like a dog with a bone. He studied Liu Qingge’s face searchingly before finally relenting. His expression smoothed out and softened, though his dark eyes retained a hint of grief. His gaze swung down to the fine fabric over Liu Qingge’s arm.

“Were you actually packing?”

Liu Qingge nodded, almost slumping in relief when it seemed apparent that his companion was willing to move on from their prior topic, at least for the time being. He had no illusions that he had heard the end of it from Mu Qingfang, however. “Yes. Your timing was uncanny.”

Mu Qingfang smiled a little, dragging a fingertip across the robe, before humming in surprise. “This is expensive fabric. Is it made from the Dark Moon Silkworm?”

Liu Qingge made a noise of agreement. “It is.”

“What is this for?” Mu Qingfang sounded curious.

“For visits to the imperial court.”

Mu Qingfang’s brows reached for his hairline. “You have court clothes? I’ve never seen you wear these, have I? I feel like I’d remember that.”

Liu Qingge couldn’t help but flush at the implications of that statement. Was he really so memorable? “I wore these to court once when I was still new to my peak lord position.”

“Ah, that’s right, they made all of us go once when we were new. We were in small groups. I wasn’t in your group, so that explains it.” Mu Qingfang chuckled. “Nothing like being shown to the emperor so he can match a face with a name. So awkward.”

Liu Qingge remembered that feeling vividly. “It was very awkward,” he agreed, with a tiny crooked smile.

“You’re bringing these home with you?” Now Mu Qingfang sounded confused. “Why?”

“My family likes to host formal banquets during festivals,” Liu Qingge explained as he moved past Mu Qingfang and back toward his abandoned packing in the next room. “All their rich friends and extended family will be there. I figured I should be prepared.”

“Oh. I suppose so.” Mu Qingfang followed him, pausing at the threshold of his bedroom, as if hesitant he might be treading on sacred ground. Liu Qingge waved him inside with a small huff. The man came to stand at Liu Qingge’s side, taking in the robes draped across his bed and the other set carefully folded and set aside. “You have two sets like this?” He let out a low whistle. “Where’d you get the money?”

“I…have a substantial amount of savings from the work I’ve done on the sect’s behalf,” Liu Qingge admitted stiffly, embarrassed. The newer set of robes had indeed been paid for by the generous payments from several village elders who had been almost violently insistent that he take their money. “I don’t know why they won’t just let me work for free. They don’t need to pay me.”

Mu Qingfang laughed abruptly and loudly, and then just kept laughing. Liu Qingge stared at him, flabbergasted. “What’s so damn funny?” he demanded.

Mu Qingfang waved a hand as he tried to catch his breath. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he gasped, swiping at watery eyes with his other hand. “It’s just that literally every other cultivator in the world would refuse to work for free and here you are, genuinely frustrated that these common folk are paying you. You deserve to be paid, Qingge. You put in time and effort, and face danger.”

Liu Qingge huffed as he went back to folding up the robes. “I don’t go hunting for the money.”

Beside him, Mu Qingfang gave a soft laugh. “I know. But still. Your work has value.” Before Bai Zhan’s lord had a chance to argue with him further, he asked, “Now, where do you keep all the treatments I’ve given you?”

“In there.” Liu Qingge pointed at the black lacquered chest at the foot of his bed.

Mu Qingfang moved over to flip open the lid, humming at the sight of the accumulated bottles and jars inside. “I’m surprised you don’t lock this,” he commented as he began rummaging around, the sound of glass clinking together filling the room.

“No need,” Liu Qingge replied, setting the folded set of robes aside with the other ones. “The only disciple allowed in my quarters is Yang Yixuan, and he knows better than to go snooping in my things.”

“Mm,” Mu Qingfang hummed as he began extracting a number of containers. He held a few up to the fading light making its way in through the nearby window. “I don’t believe you need to take every single thing in here, so which ones work best? Which ones do you prefer?”

Liu Qingge joined him at the chest and they spent a little while choosing six treatments for him to take. Mu Qingfang listened intently, nodding, as he explained which mixtures had been most effective and how. He could practically see the doctor making mental notes as they went along, no doubt intending to write them down in one of his numerous herbariums or journals as soon as he arrived back at Qian Cao. Liu Qingge had long ago accepted that his situation was an anomaly, an oddity that was going to be scrutinized and picked apart over and over again. As long as Mu Qingfang was the one doing it, he was fine with it. He trusted the man and the bond they had built over the last six years.

Mu Qingfang made sure Liu Qingge packed the selected jars in a sealed qiankun pouch and then further stowed them inside his larger pouch with everything else he’d packed. Only then was the sect doctor satisfied that Liu Qingge was well-equipped for his travels. Then he held out a very familiar and demanding hand.

“Let me check your qi.”

“You just did a few days ago.”

“A lot can happen in a few days.”

Liu Qingge couldn’t deny that. He acquiesced with a sigh. Mu Qingfang’s fingers wrapped around his wrist gently but firmly, followed by the warmth of the man’s qi trickling through his meridians at an unhurried pace as he searched for blockages and abnormalities. Only seconds later, Mu Qingfang flinched.

“Qingge, what happened? Your heart demons are agitated.”

There was a beat of silence as Liu Qingge tried to decide what to say. He was afraid if he admitted to the news of Deng Rouhuan seemingly headed to Liu clan territory and how much distress it had caused him, Mu Qingfang would force him to tell details he had no desire to go over. So he decided on the other person who had unsettled him recently. “I saw Shen Qingqiu when I visited Zhangmen-shixiong the other day,” he said quietly.

“Oh.” Mu Qingfang processed that for a moment. “He was alone?”

“Yes. Luo Binghe was not with him.”

Mu Qingfang clicked his tongue thoughtfully. “And Shen-shixiong seemed fine?”

“Yes. He seemed just the same as he always has been.” Liu Qingge’s brows furrowed in confusion as he wondered what Mu Qingfang was driving at.

Mu Qingfang sighed, looking a bit sheepish. "It's nothing," he answered Liu Qingge's questioning expression. "I simply don't see him much these days; it seems Luo Binghe has healers in the demon realm and at Huan Hua who tend to Shen-shixiong if he ever ails. I just worry for him. Much like I do you, I guess."

Liu Qingge remembered that Shen Qingqiu and Mu Qingfang had shared a friendship in which they had both gotten inordinately excited about varied types of plants and monsters, and had spent long hours together poring over arcane bestiaries late into the night, sharing a pot of tea. They each had their own reasons for finding those subjects fascinating, but their equal passion for it had brought them together and there was something pure about that, Liu Qingge thought. He supposed Mu Qingfang was missing that connection. He wondered if Shen Qingqiu did as well, not that the man would ever say anything about it. He always assumed other people were just fine living their lives without him, even when he had been a huge part of those lives.

The memory of those long five years taunted him, and he forcefully pushed it aside.

“Perhaps,” he said hesitantly, “you should try reaching out to Shen Qingqiu? Maybe he misses you too.”

Mu Qingfang stared at Liu Qingge for such a long time, Liu Qingge began to fidget. Finally, Mu Qingfang let out a disbelieving breath. “With the way you dash around and throw yourself headlong into life-or-death situations, I often forget how intuitive you can be, Qingge. Maybe I will do as you’ve suggested.” He looked thoughtful, head cocking to the side, long strands of brown hair falling across his cheek. “I do have some new bestiaries I know Shen-shixiong would find interesting.” Then his sharp eyes honed in on Liu Qingge again as he raised a hand to jab a finger into the War God’s unyielding chest. “And you! You should take your own advice! I said it a few days ago, I’ve said it a hundred times before that, and I’m saying it again. Just talk to Shen-shixiong. He won’t turn you away.”

Liu Qingge thought of a thousand things he could say in response. He could say that it wasn’t that simple in his situation, Shen Qingqiu and Mu Qingfang didn’t share the kind of history Liu Qingge shared with Shen Qingqiu. He could say that he loved Shen Qingqiu in ways he couldn’t even begin to put into words and that infinitely complicated things. He could say he had no idea what to say to Luo Binghe or how to act around him and he knew that would make Shen Qingqiu sad, and Liu Qingge hated the thought of Shen Qingqiu being sad, especially when it was his fault.

In the end, all he could say was, “Maybe.” It sounded non-committal to his own ears.

Mu Qingfang shook his head. “Just know I’m never going to shut up about this until you do.”

Liu Qingge cracked a lopsided smile. “I would expect nothing less from you, Qingfang.”

Mu Qingfang snorted, waving a hand as he released Liu Qingge’s wrist. “Please take care of yourself on this trip,” he said, both firmly and pleadingly. “I don’t want you to come back in worse shape than when you left. If you need assistance from someone, for the love of the gods, please ask your sister to help you. I know you would rather she not know what’s going on but Mingyan is smart and attentive. It’s only a matter of time before she figures it out anyway. You know she’d take it better if it came from you.”

Liu Qingge just grunted in acknowledgment. He knew Mu Qingfang was right; he’d had thoughts along similar lines several times himself in the last year or so. Eventually, he would have to trust his sister with his secrets.

Mu Qingfang clapped him on the shoulder and began making his way toward the door. “If things become too dire, you know you can call on me and I’ll make the trip out to you. Otherwise, I expect to see you straight away upon your return.” He paused and gave Liu Qingge a gentle smile. “I hope you have a pleasant trip, Qingge.”

They said their goodbyes and Mu Qingfang left. Liu Qingge stood in the sudden quiet of his home for a few minutes, thinking that he desperately hoped it was going to be a pleasant trip, too.

Chapter 4

Notes:

Ya'll have been so amazing at giving me feedback and interaction that I'm updating a lot sooner than planned! Here's the beginning of the road trip...with some unexpected guests!

As always, your kudos and comments are greatly appreciated <3

Liu Qingge was baffled the morning of their departure when he arrived at the lowest gate of Cang Qiong Mountain with Yang Yixuan in tow to find Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe, of all people, waiting there with his sister. His immediate instinct was to abandon the plan and flee; he savagely fought down that feeling. He was no coward. It should be no difficulty to face them.

And yet, it was. Shen Qingqiu was exceptionally breathtaking in the early morning light, his fair skin tinted in gold, his green eyes sparkling in delight when he caught sight of Liu Qingge. His lips curved in an open, genuine smile as he raised the hand holding his folded fan in greeting, waving.

“Liu-shidi! Good morning!”

Beside him, Luo Binghe cut a more intimidating but no less visually pleasing figure, tall and broad, dressed in his usual black and red robes, long and wild curls loose around his shoulders, flaring with flaming red highlights in the rising sun’s rays. His dark eyes watched Liu Qingge intently as he drew nearer; there was nothing threatening or malicious in them, though there was a measure of tension in the set of his shoulders all the same.

Before Liu Qingge could begin to wonder about that, Liu Mingyan was rushing up to him, hands raised placatingly as the hiss of a drawn sword rang out in the still air from behind Liu Qingge. The next thing he knew, Yang Yixuan was throwing himself in front of him, brandishing Jia Xue in a defensive posture.

“Yang Yixuan!” Liu Qingge barked. “What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Forgive this disciple, Shizun!” the young man said forcefully, never looking away from where his sharp gaze was locked on Luo Binghe, never letting his stance slip. “But Lord Luo has been a threat in the past.”

Luo Binghe didn’t so much as twitch at the words, let alone rise to them in indignation. If anything, there seemed to be a flash of something resembling regret that crossed his features briefly before disappearing.

Liu Qingge sighed, reaching for his head disciple’s shoulder. “Stand down. Luo Binghe is no threat.”

Of course, that wasn’t entirely true. Luo Binghe could easily wipe the floor with Liu Qingge, despite his best efforts. But Luo Binghe was also free of Xin Mo’s corrupting influence now, and that made all the difference.

Everything had happened so quickly. Shen Qingqiu’s eyes were wide. Liu Mingyan was also urging Yang Yixuan to put his weapon away. Luo Binghe didn’t say a word. Liu Qingge just felt weary, despite only having been awake for a few hours. Finally, after what felt like an age, his disciple relaxed and dropped his sword. It was only then that Luo Binghe spoke, his eyes finally moving away from Liu Qingge to look at Yang Yixuan instead.

“It is commendable of you to want to protect your shizun,” he said clearly and steadily. “I know the feeling well. I am not offended.” There was the slightest hint of a smile on his lips and Liu Qingge remembered that the two young men had once been something like friends, and not all that long ago either. He wondered if Luo Binghe’s goodwill was simply due to lingering warm feelings, or if he would have been so benevolent with anyone else.

“Fuck,” Liu Qingge cursed under his breath, before saying in a louder voice, “Now that that drama is over, would someone care to explain to me why these two are here?” He nodded in the direction of the married couple standing nearby.

“Brother, I can explain!” Liu Mingyan was at his side, touching his arm and drawing him away several steps. They left Yang Yixuan lingering in the space between them and Lou Binghe and Shen Qingqiu, shifting restlessly, almost as if he wanted to go speak to Luo Binghe but wasn’t certain if he was allowed to, or if he would be welcomed. Liu Qingge supposed that was a conversation he would have to have with his disciple sooner than later.

He arched a brow at his sister questioningly. “Well?”

Liu Mingyan’s voice was pitched low. “Master Shen received an invitation from our parents to the festival, and Lord Luo is here as his guest.”

Liu Qingge blinked in surprise. It took a moment for the words and their implications to sink in. Then his spine stiffened, and he drew himself up to his full height, fists clenching at his sides.

“What?!” he hissed angrily. “How did this happen?”

His sister made shushing motions with her hands. “I may have mentioned Master Shen to Mother and Father in conversation,” she admitted in a whisper.

“You did what?!” Liu Qingge thundered, before forcing himself to restrain his volume to match hers. At his sides, his hands were shaking. “What did you tell them?”

Liu Mingyan was looking distinctly guilty now. She twisted her hands together nervously. “I might have mentioned that you care deeply for Master Shen and that you two had a good relationship. I think they must have been curious about him, so they invited him. I only found out yesterday. I’m so sorry, Qingge.”

Liu Qingge could feel the beginnings of a headache creeping up on him, even as his cheeks flushed in embarrassment. “Mingyan, how could you tell our parents such things?” he sighed, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. Knowing she had practically told their parents he was in love with Shen Qingqiu without his knowledge or consent was distressing, and made him feel vulnerable, something he never enjoyed. Plus, the man in question would undoubtedly eventually find out why he had been invited to the festival, and awkwardness would abound.

“I know I shouldn’t have,” Liu Mingyan murmured, her tone contrite. “They kept asking about you and I didn’t know what to say.” She gestured helplessly.

“Still. This is my personal business.” Liu Qingge’s voice was firm, his brows pulling together in consternation. He knew his sister hadn’t meant anything malicious by any of this, but it still felt a bit like betrayal anyway.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Liu Mingyan said softly, not meeting his eyes.

Liu Qingge reached out and patted Mingyan’s shoulder. “Just please don’t tell them any more if they ask. If they want to know things, they can just ask me.” Fuck, he would have to speak with his parents too, wouldn’t he? Remind them that he was an adult with boundaries.

Liu Mingyan nodded fervently. “Of course. I should have told them that to begin with.”

Liu Qingge gave her a half-smile. “I know Mother can be pushy,” he said by way of commiseration. He jerked his head toward the other waiting members of the party. “Nothing to be done about it now, so let’s get going.”

The five of them climbed onto their swords and headed west, Liu Qingge in the lead with Yang Yixuan close behind. Mingyan hung toward the back with Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe; Liu Qingge suspected she was talking to them, perhaps explaining exactly what she’d just told him. The thought made his ears burn but he resolutely shoved those concerns away, focusing on the landscape passing far below the clouds. The journey had always been beautiful, and this time was no different: mountain peaks reaching for the sky, sometimes breaking through the clouds, their lower slopes and foothills covered in blankets of blazing autumn colors, their tops still sporting caps of pristine snow. Rivers winding their way through deep valleys like shining ribbons reflecting the sunlight. The occasional village nestled in among the woods, wisps of smoke wafting up from chimneys and cooking fires. Liu Qingge let himself get lost in the view.

By the time late afternoon light began to simmer into evening, Liu Qingge felt his strength beginning to peter out. In years past, he could have kept Cheng Luan going long into the night, even into the next morning. His cultivation was strong enough to lend him stamina for sword-flight that no one else in the sect could match. But now his unhealed injuries limited him, and he found he was ready to call it a day just as everyone else, apart from Luo Binghe undoubtedly, was tiring. He spotted a town that was large enough to surely have an inn and dipped toward it.

He was the first to touch down in the woods just outside the town, which was good because he ended up needing a moment to compose himself when he stepped off the blade onto solid ground. He had never been sword-sick a day in his life before the last year or so, but these days long journeys not only drained his strength and spiritual power but made him faintly physically ill as well, a wave of dizziness and nausea that he managed to choke down just as Yang Yixuan joined him on the ground.

He must have been paler than usual because his disciple took one look at him and was immediately concerned. “Shizun, are you alright?”

Liu Qingge nodded, waving off the question. “Fine, fine,” he said gruffly. “Don’t worry about it.”

Yang Yixuan didn’t look convinced but nodded anyway and blessedly said nothing else. Liu Qingge wondered how much longer he could keep his disciple’s questions at bay. The young man obviously had his suspicions and had for a while now. Yang Yixuan was no idiot, unfortunately or not.

When the remainder of their party caught up with them, Shen Qingqiu looked faintly embarrassed and spent the walk to the town hiding behind his fan, while Luo Binghe’s gaze lingered on Liu Qingge’s back. Liu Qingge chafed under the scrutiny; if Luo Binghe had something to say, Liu Qingge wished the man would just say it. But the demon lord held his peace, brows furrowed in thought.

The town indeed boasted an inn, which was busy when they walked in. This wasn’t unexpected, considering it was the travel season for anyone returning to visit family and friends. The tavern downstairs was nearly packed, boisterous with many conversations happening simultaneously and the clinking of dishes and chopsticks. Liu Qingge shouldered his way to the counter in the back to inquire about rooms and supper.

“We only have two rooms left, immortal master,” the innkeeper informed him.

“We’ll take both.” Liu Mingyan would have her own room, as befitted a young single lady, and the rest of them would have to figure out how to divide the last room among themselves.

“Very good, sir!” The innkeeper took Liu Qingge’s money with a small bow and then directed them to one of the few open tables in the dining room.

Liu Qingge explained the lodging situation once they had all settled down. Shen Qingqiu had seated himself across from Liu Qingge, Luo Binghe at his side. Across from Binghe, Yang Yixuan had sat down while Mingyan had taken the last spot at the end of the table, to Liu Qingge’s left.

Liu Mingyan was obviously frowning behind her veil. “It’s ridiculous that I should have a whole room to myself while the four of you have to fight for space,” she declared.

“Mingyan—" Liu Qingge sighed, shooting her a pleading look.

“Brother, share my room with me,” she insisted, leaning toward him so they could speak in quieter tones. “You’re the only one I can ask to do so and still be within the bounds of propriety.”

“It’s really not necessary, we’ll figure it out,” he said firmly.

“I’m trying to do you a favor,” she whispered, leaning even further into his space. “You know you won’t sleep a wink in the same room as Luo Binghe.”

That tripped Liu Qingge up; when he took a moment to reflect on it, he realized she was right. The thought of leaving himself that vulnerable in the same enclosed space as Luo Binghe made him uneasy, especially when he already wasn’t at the top of his game. Not that he expected Luo Binghe to actually attack him, but the instinctual wariness was there after keeping his guard up around the man for so long. His high-strung nerves promised a sleepless night ahead and a miserable day of travel tomorrow. He heaved a quiet sigh before finally giving his sister a single nod.

“Fine. I won’t ask how you know that but you’re right, dammit.”

Liu Mingyan smiled a little, if her eyes crinkling at the corners was any indication. “I just know you and how you are,” she murmured.

He felt himself flush and leveled her with a stern look to make up for it. “If there’s only one bed up there, you’re taking it and I’m meditating in the corner, no exceptions.”

Mingyan held up her hands placatingly. “I already won the war here. I know better than to argue further.”

Liu Qingge blew an irritated breath out between his lips, fluttering his bangs hanging down the side of his face, but said nothing else. His sister also knew how to needle him where it stung, it seemed.

Mingyan grinned then, reaching out quickly to pat his cheek before he could move away. Her dark eyes sparkled with mirth. Liu Qingge flushed even more hotly at the affectionately teasing gesture as he sat back, feeling the eyes of two of the table’s other occupants on him. Shen Qingqiu looked charmed and Luo Binghe’s expression was surprisingly soft. Yang Yixuan was more interested in the food that was arriving with the waiter, much more used to seeing the interactions between the Liu siblings.

“What?” Liu Qingge snapped, glaring at the men across from him.

Shen Qingqiu shook his head, smiling fondly. “Nothing, shidi.”

Liu Qingge huffed but said nothing else, turning his own attention to the food.

Supper turned out to be a rather pleasant affair. Liu Qingge didn’t participate much in the conversation, but he listened with begrudging interest to the tales Luo Binghe told about his time in the demon realm. The uncertainty and awkwardness between Luo Binghe and Yang Yixuan eased as the two discussed various sword techniques and battles they had fought. Liu Qingge admittedly was glad to see it; he would still have to have a talk with his disciple, but this was good, he felt certain. He didn’t want to be the dividing wedge in that friendship. Liu Mingyan and Shen Qingqiu talked about the Liu estate and the extended family, going over who was who and what could be expected out of the festivities. Shen Qingqiu seemed genuinely interested, asking questions about the history of the Liu clan and their lands.

The line of conversation reminded Liu Qingge that Deng Rouhuan was probably already at the estate by now. The thought turned his stomach, and he very suddenly wasn’t hungry anymore. He hastily set his bowl and chopsticks down, letting out a shaky breath.

Fuck, what was he doing? All the reasons he didn’t really want to go home to his family were suddenly a crushing weight on his shoulders, Deng Rouhuan not the least of them. The man’s handsome face swam in his mind’s eye, the tilt of his lips knowing and faintly cruel, the way he’d looked the last time Liu Qingge had seen him, over a decade ago. What would they say to each other? Could Liu Qingge just spend the entire festival avoiding the other man altogether? Would Deng Rouhuan try to…?

Liu Qingge swallowed thickly, determined to keep his supper down even though all he really wanted to do was dash outside and expel the contents of his stomach.

Liu Mingyan’s gentle hand covering his and squeezing brought him back to the table in the inn’s bustling dining room. He blinked, finding his sister looking at him in concern. Luckily, their other three companions were distracted; Yang Yixuan was speaking to the waiter, and Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe were having a quiet moment, leaning toward each other and whispering. Shen Qingqiu smiled indulgently just before his fan came up, shielding them from direct view, but it was obvious they were sharing a kiss behind it.

The sight made Liu Qingge’s heart twist and he looked away swiftly, back to his sister, whose gaze had never left his face. She had to know that he had seen the kiss because her eyes were sympathetic and that was perhaps worse than anything he could have seen just then that wasn’t Deng Rouhuan’s face.

Liu Qingge pulled his hand out from under hers, feeling overwhelmed with the rush of so many differing emotions.

“Qingge?” Mingyan’s voice was quiet, her brows furrowed.

“I’m going up to bed,” he said unsteadily, pushing up from the table.

“Are you—”

He held up a hand, closing his eyes tightly for a moment. “Don’t, please. Don’t ask me if I’m alright.” He was getting so tired of hearing that question.

Liu Mingyan made a soft noise, confused and a bit hurt. “Okay,” she whispered.

“I’m just—I’m just tired,” he said faintly. He waved a shaky hand in what was meant to be a dismissive gesture.

Liu Mingyan nodded. “Okay,” she said again, slowly. “I’ll be up after a while.”

He gave her a stiff nod and left the table without saying goodnight.

+++

The room he’d been directed to had two beds on opposite sides of the space, thankfully. Liu Qingge found that he really hadn’t wanted to have to meditate on the floor all night. He stripped off his outer robes and boots and slid under the blankets with a sigh. As soon as he laid his head down, he remembered that his hair was still up, the hair crown an uncomfortable obstruction even if he settled on his side. With a spike of sudden irritation and a little growl of annoyance, he sat up again and reached up to rip the ornament free of his long tresses, uncaring of the pain or any damage done. The metal hair crown and its accompanying fastening stick both went flying as he flung them away, clanging onto the floor some meters away.

Of course, that was the moment Liu Mingyan just had to walk in.

She stood in the doorway, her expression above her veil implying she was staring open-mouthed, watching the hair crown arc onto the floor in front of her. Her gaze flicked up to see him glowering at her from the bed.

“Qingge—what was that? You’re going to hurt yourself doing that!”

“Don’t care,” he grumped, settling down again.

Mingyan stepped into the room, closing the door behind her, before reaching down to pick up the offending pieces of metal and gently placing them atop his folded outer robes on the side table nearby. The juxtaposition of the neatly folded garment and the rough treatment he’d given his hair ornament had her sighing and tsking in disapproval, sounding an awful lot like their mother.

“It’s not like you to act like this,” she commented, smoothing a hand over the pale blue fabric of the robe.

“Like what?” he sniped from the bed, where he’d settled down deep under the blankets, glaring out at the world, loose hair a mess around his face.

“Like a brat,” Mingyan said bluntly, turning to face him.

The words brought a flush of mortification to Liu Qingge’s cheeks. There were only a handful of occasions in his life he had been accused of being a brat, and they had all occurred before the age of eight. He knew it was undignified for a grown man to act like this, let alone a peak lord. He grunted but said nothing, turning his face into the pillow in embarrassment. She was right and that made it worse.

“I know you’re upset but that’s no excuse to throw things.” Liu Mingyan sat on the edge of the bed and reached out to stroke his hair back from his face. “Besides, you don’t want to damage your hair, do you?”

He shrugged. “Does it matter?”

“It does,” Mingyan said, reaching up to unhook her veil, since it was just the two of them in the room, revealing a little smile. “Your hair is beautiful, Qingge. And I don’t want you to hurt yourself either.” She paused, going back to digging her fingers into his tresses and scratching at his scalp slowly and soothingly. When she spoke again, her voice was gentle. “Why are you so angry? Downstairs you looked sad and anxious. What’s going on with you lately?”

Liu Qingge sighed, turning his head enough to meet her eyes. “I don’t know,” he admitted. He found that he simultaneously had too many things going on with him and yet no idea about any of it at all. He was sad, like she had said, and anxious. But he was also angry and unsettled and frightened, and he hated all of it. How could he ever put his jumbled emotions into coherent words? He wasn’t the best at that even on a good day, let alone a time like this, when he felt he could barely breathe under the weight of it all. When all he knew how to do was scowl and snap and resort to tiny acts of violence.

Mingyan seemed to understand what he wasn’t saying, and she hummed softly, thoughtfully, before lapsing into silence. Her fingers continued to scratch and eventually the repetitive motion lulled him toward sleep, eyes drooping and breaths evening out slow and steady. Finally, his sister spoke just above a whisper, careful not to disturb his calm.

“Master Shen is worried about you.”

Liu Qingge grunted, letting his eyes slide shut.

“When you left the table so abruptly, he asked if his and Lord Luo’s presence was making you uncomfortable.”

Liu Qingge wanted to laugh, for some reason. One corner of his lips pulled upwards without much humor, however. “Considering Luo Binghe beat the fuck out of me every day for five years and exposed every weakness I have as a warrior, then yes, I’m not exactly comfortable.”

Mingyan hummed, taking his acidic answer in stride. “Is it also anything to do with the fact that they engaged in a display of affection in front of you?”

Liu Qingge sighed and opened his eyes to shoot his sister a glare. “You know damn well how I feel about him. And them together,” he reminded her.

Liu Mingyan inclined her head in agreement; she had been the first person to realize he had fallen in love with Shen Qingqiu years ago, almost before he himself had known it. She had also been his captive audience for the one outburst he’d had in the privacy of his own home following Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe’s wedding, when he’d allowed himself to vent his anger and heartache in the form of a smashed teapot and a handful of scathing sentences defaming Luo Binghe’s character and capacity to be a good husband. Since then, his ire had simmered down to be replaced by a deep weariness that he now suspected had more to do with his physical maladies than any apparent healing of his cracked heart.

“It still hurts,” he admitted suddenly, in a tone barely above a whisper, “to see them together.” His sister said nothing, but her expression was soft and without a trace of judgment. Somehow that gave him the courage to continue. “I’ve known Shen Qingqiu for longer than Luo Binghe has been alive and in love with him for nearly half that time. I wish I knew why I wasn’t enough for him.”

Liu Mingyan leaned down and planted a gentle kiss on Liu Qingge’s forehead, running her fingers through his hair, working out a few tangles as she went. “I think he’s a fool,” she declared when she sat back. “If anyone doesn’t see and appreciate my brother for exactly everything he is, then they’re damn fools and idiots.”

Liu Qingge couldn’t help the surprised laugh that bubbled out of his throat, which in turn made Mingyan smile. “You shouldn’t talk that way about a peak lord,” he admonished with an amused huff.

“Why not? It’s just us here,” she replied with a shrug and a devious smirk. “It’s not like I haven’t told you you’re a fool to your face and you’re a peak lord.”

Liu Qingge snorted and freed an arm from under the blankets to push at her side. “Aiyah, now who’s being a brat? Go to bed.”

Liu Mingyan laughed quietly as she gave his hair one last stroke and then stood up. “I made you laugh, so I still win,” she said smugly. Her smile was fond, however. “Goodnight, Qingge.”

It was only after she had climbed into her own bed across the room and stillness had descended that Liu Qingge remembered that he had forgotten to ask what his sister’s answer had been to Shen Qingqiu’s question.

Chapter 5

Notes:

Hello again, lovely readers! A lengthy update this time. LQG has an important conversation and LMY might be suspecting (even more) something just isn't right with her brother.

Please enjoy and as always your kudos and comments are greatly appreciated! I love all of you 💕

The next few days passed in much the same fashion. The group traveled until the early evening when they found an inn to secure lodging for the night. Every inn was bustling and often had only two or three rooms left. Liu Qingge shared a room with his sister twice more.

Until the next night after supper, and the inn in the small post-town they’d stopped in only had one room left.

Liu Qingge frowned so hard at the innkeeper that the man offered to let Liu Mingyan stay with his own teenage daughter, theoretically leaving the four men to decide what to do about the single room. Liu Qingge made an executive decision without a second thought.

“Do you have a stable in town?”

“Yes, just two doors down, sir!” the innkeeper said hurriedly, obviously still uneasy.

Liu Qingge nodded and slammed down his money on the counter before scooping up the key to the room. Beside him, Liu Mingyan was already protesting, immediately catching on to his thought process.

“Qingge, no, if there’s not room for everyone, let’s just camp outside town,” she said, grabbing at his sleeve as he turned away from the counter. “You shouldn’t have to sleep in a stable!”

He paused long enough to gently remove her clutching fingers from the fabric. “It’s better accommodation than I’ve had in the past. Don’t fret over me, Mingyan.”

She looked mutinous and he knew by the set of her brows that she was frowning behind her veil nearly as deeply as he had at the innkeeper. “Why are you so damn stubborn?” she hissed in frustration, though there was a note of resignation in it.

He didn’t bother to answer, taking her by the shoulders and drawing her in to plant a quick kiss to the crown of her head, before guiding her back toward the innkeeper, even as she grumbled under her breath at her brother. The man’s daughter had appeared from somewhere deeper in the building, smiling and receiving Mingyan graciously. This probably wasn’t the first time she’d had to personally accommodate female travelers when their small establishment filled up.

Liu Qingge watched them head down the corridor behind the counter. Mingyan turned her head once to look back at him and her expression told him she would have more to say to him about this tomorrow. He allowed himself a small private smile; he certainly was proud of her fire.

He made his way back toward the doorway of the establishment, where he’d left the three remaining members of their party. Yang Yixuan was engaged in conversation with Luo Binghe but they both looked up as Liu Qingge approached; beside them, Shen Qingqiu smiled.

“What’s the news, Liu-shidi?”

Liu Qingge held up the key. “Upstairs on the right, already paid for.”

Shen Qingqiu reached out to take the key, now frowning slightly. He’d been trying to convince Liu Qingge to let him pay for some of the lodging expenses. “Shidi--”

“Yang Yixuan, with me,” Liu Qingge barked without giving the other peak lord a chance to argue with him.

“Yes, Shizun!” The young man immediately straightened up and left Luo Binghe’s side to join his master.

Liu Qingge headed for the door without a word, ignoring Shen Qingqiu’s bewildered voice calling after him. Outside in the street, he explained the situation to his head disciple, who took the change in their circumstances easily. Yang Yixuan had grown up in relative poverty and he’d done much camping in the wilds since coming to Bai Zhan, so bedding down in a stable for a night was nothing concerning. As long as there was some clean hay to curl up on, all would be well.

They found the stable where the innkeeper had said it was, two buildings down the street. It was dark and quiet, with only the soft snuffling of the horses and the shifting of their hooves disturbing the deepening night. Yang Yixuan wasted no time locating the pile of clean hay in the corner, immediately shifting some around to build himself a comfortable place to lie down. Liu Qingge followed suit, though he settled down cross-legged initially.

“Are you going to meditate for a while, Shizun?” Yang Yixuan asked as he set his sword within arm’s reach.

“Mm,” Liu Qingge replied, watching his head disciple hesitate in the middle of his preparations. No doubt he was thinking about how they slept and meditated in shifts while out in the wilds, always alert to creeping danger in the darkness. “Go ahead and sleep. We’re safe enough here.”

Yang Yixuan nodded and having been given permission, burrowed into the hay. He was snoring lightly within minutes. Liu Qingge huffed softly in amusement, shaking his head, and then closed his eyes. It was easy to fall into meditation, his mind too exhausted to run off on the many tangents it normally would before settling down. His shoulders loosened and his breathing deepened and slowed. It felt like he could finally fill his lungs fully for the first time since they’d left the sect.

His qi was holding up fairly well, despite the strain of so much sword-flight. His meridians felt a bit tender however, though they weren’t blocked. He took a long time circulating his qi through them, cautious and careful. He wasn’t eager to cause himself pain. Finally, Liu Qingge deemed his spiritual pathways as good as they could be, and settled himself down to sleep an arm’s reach away from his slumbering disciple. He fell into blessed unconsciousness surprisingly quickly.

It was some hours later, in the chilliest hours before dawn, that Liu Qingge woke, shivering. His head pounded and when he took a deep breath, pain lanced through his chest, taking him by surprise. Nausea rolled in his belly. Fuck, why now? He hadn’t felt all that awful just a handful of hours ago. He lay still, body tense, breaths shallow, in a bid to not make anything worse. Of course, it didn’t work for long. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead as he fought back the urge to be sick. Only a minute later, he was scrambling up and out the open rear door of the stable, losing his supper in the bushes in one of the most humiliating experiences of his life to date. When he was done and still hunched over, gasping and blinking tears from his eyes, he heard the shuffling of feet somewhere behind him and felt his pride shrivel up just a little bit more.

“Shizun?” Yang Yixuan sounded groggy, voice thick with sleep but still carrying a distinct note of concern.

Liu Qingge waved a shaky hand behind him without turning, hoping to shoo his disciple back to his haystack bed. “I’m fine,” he gasped, hating how rough his voice sounded.

Yang Yixuan had the audacity to snort at him. “Obviously.” The word was laced with sarcasm, and the young man sounded much more awake now. Liu Qingge straightened up and listened to his disciple approaching, steps light, and then a hand appeared in his peripheral vision, holding out a waterskin, no doubt from Yang Yixuan’s own qiankun pouch. “Here. Have a drink.”

Liu Qingge found he didn’t have it in him just then to scold that commanding tone and wordlessly took the waterskin to rinse his mouth out.

“You don’t have to lie, Shizun,” Yang Yixuan said quietly several moments later. Liu Qingge didn’t miss the lack of honorifics and formality; his disciple was making an appeal to him on a more personal level. “I’ve suspected for a long time now that something is going on and you’re not well.”

Liu Qingge grunted in acknowledgment, closing his eyes and sighing. “I was wondering only a few days ago how much longer it would be before we would have to have this conversation.” Yang Yixuan remained silent, so Liu Qingge continued, deciding that just saying it bluntly would be best. “The wounds I received from Xin Mo never fully healed and that damn sword’s evil energy has seeped into my spiritual veins.”

Yang Yixuan took this in stride as if he had already suspected as much. He pursed his lips. “Is that why you’re so tired all the time?”

“Yes.” Liu Qingge squeezed the neck of the waterskin as though he were trying to strangle it. Trust that to be the thing that had alerted his head disciple that something was off.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” Yang Yixuan asked, sounding a bit off-put. “I could have been helping you all this time when you needed it.”

Lie Qingge’s cheeks burned. Why did he feel like he was the disciple and his own shizun was scolding him? He could well imagine what she would have said if she could see him now. Don’t be afraid to ask for help, you silly boy! Only fools don’t ask for help when they need it, and I know you’re not a fool, Qingge. She herself had never hesitated to ask him to do things around the peak on her bad days when old injuries flared up. Taking a deep breath, he turned to face his disciple.

“The sect leader and I agreed it was best that as few people as possible know. My reputation has already suffered in recent years and Zhangmen-shixiong was concerned it would put a target on my back if news of this got out too widely.”

Yang Yixuan nodded thoughtfully, head tilted to the side. “I suppose that makes sense, for security reasons. On a sect-wide level.” He fixed Liu Qingge with an unwavering stare. “But I see you every day, Shizun. I doubt the sect leader would have been upset if you had told your head disciple.”

Liu Qingge fought the urge to fidget; when had Yang Yixuan gained the ability to be this intense? “I suppose you’re correct,” he admitted, raising his chin and meeting his disciple’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Yang Yixuan shook his head with a rueful half-smile. “Don’t apologize, Shizun. You did what you thought was right.” Liu Qingge thought the boy was giving him too much credit. “You know I’ll keep my mouth shut about this.” That was definitely true; he was loyal to a fault and could be counted on to keep this secret to himself. “Just let me help you, alright? Just ask me to help when you’re having a hard time. That’s part of my job as your head disciple and you know I take my duty seriously. I already take over training when you have migraines. I can do more around the peak.”

Liu Qingge sighed. All valid points. He couldn’t deny that Yang Yixuan was capable and enthusiastic, so why not let him take some of the burdens of Bai Zhan? It was good practice for when he would inevitably take over as Liu Qingge’s successor someday, anyway.

“Fine,” he grunted, giving the young man an acquiescing nod. “We’ll discuss this in more detail when we return to the sect.”

Yang Yixuan grinned. “Thank you, Shizun.” He clasped his hands and bowed respectfully and properly.

Liu Qingge waved a hand. “Stop that,” he scolded wearily. “I already feel foolish enough.” He was somewhat surprised at how easily he had given in. But it was the wee hours and he was cold and tired, dammit.

Yang Yixuan instantly grew solemn. “I know you have your pride, Shizun. It’s not my intention to embarrass you further.”

“I know, I know,” Liu Qingge muttered, taking a sip of water before corking the waterskin and handing it back. The cool liquid soothed his raw throat. “Do you know my own shizun once warned me that my pride would be my downfall? It seems she was nearly prophetic.”

Yang Yixuan accepted the waterskin but he was still looking at Liu Qingge with wide eyes. “What do you mean, Shizun?”

Liu Qingge snorted inelegantly and shook his head. “I dared to try my hand at defeating Luo Binghe and we all know how that turned out,” he said dryly. “He soundly defeated me and I kept going back for more, thinking every time that maybe that would be the day he made a mistake and I would gain the advantage. I never did and now here I am, half the warrior I was.” Liu Qingge tilted his head to gaze at his disciple thoughtfully. “Is that not evidence of pride at work, leading to a downfall?”

Yang Yixuan’s expressive face was reflecting a mixture of what Liu Qingge could only name as indignation, grief, admiration, and devastation. “I wouldn’t call that pride at all,” he murmured. “I would call that duty and devotion. You are an honorable man, Shizun. No one on Bai Zhan thinks otherwise, I can assure you.”

Liu Qingge huffed softly and flushed in embarrassment, unsure of what to say in return. He’d already said so much more than he normally would have. Something about the vulnerable circumstances and the cover of the darkness seemed to have loosened his tongue in ways it never would in broad daylight, in hearing distance of other people. But his head disciple had made it easy for him to speak and he knew he could be sure of Yang Yixuan’s loyalty. This conversation would stay in this stable in this tiny post-town.

Yang Yixuan stepped aside and motioned back inside the building. “You should try to get some more rest, Shizun,” he said softly.

Liu Qingge made a noise of vague agreement and they returned to the haystack and settled in again. Not another word was said between them but somehow Liu Qingge felt somewhat calmer for having made his confession. Shared burdens were always lighter, his own shizun had said. Just another thing she had been right about, he thought as he drifted back to sleep, the weariness of his body inescapable.

The next time he stirred was hours later, the sun fully above the horizon. The peace and stillness of the morning were instantly shattered for Liu Qingge when he suddenly remembered the events of the previous night and the inadvertently revealing conversation he’d had with his disciple. Embarrassment and shame swamped him for a long time as he tried to muster the wherewithal to get up and face another day, and even moreso face his disciple.

He needn’t have worried, as it turned out. Yang Yixuan said nothing about their conversation and didn’t treat Liu Qingge any differently than he normally would have, greeting his master with a little smile and a respectful bow of the head. When they returned to the inn to rejoin their companions, there was nothing in their demeanor to hint that anything had changed.

Liu Qingge was intensely grateful.

+++

Their group’s next stop was Doho City. This settlement was a proper city, the largest one for many miles in every direction, situated just at the eastern border of the vast territory owned and presided over by the Liu clan. It was the gateway to their lands and the last place to gather supplies before the long stretch of wilderness road leading to Willow Manor, the main seat of the Liu clan another day’s travel beyond the city walls. Doho City was a crossroads of trade and boasted a large merchant's quarter full of shops and stalls peddling goods ranging from food and textiles to weapons and armor. There was even a stockyard where cattle, goats, and horses were auctioned off.

It was also the last place Deng Rouhuan had been seen about a week prior.

Liu Qingge tried not to think about that as they strolled into the city around mid-afternoon. It had been years since he had visited Doho City and he sternly told himself he should enjoy this. Their group would spend the night at one of the handful of inns in town before renting horses and riding on into Liu clan territory the following day. The lands had been enchanted many generations ago to prevent sword-flight over their expanse, a precaution against sudden attacks from rival clans. In years past, Liu Qingge had considered this quirk an inconvenience but now he was secretly grateful. Finishing the journey on horseback would give his stressed meridians a chance to rest and replenish before he had to present himself to his family. It wouldn’t do to appear obviously weakened by the time they arrived at Willow Manor, and he strongly suspected that another day of sword-flight would be his limit before there would be dire consequences, not the least of which would be Mu Qingfang’s stern and long-winded lectures on how he needed to take better care of himself.

In the evening there would be ample time to explore and browse the wares for sale in the merchants’ quarter. Liu Qingge mused that perhaps he should look for small gifts to bring his mother, his aunt, and his grandmother. He would have to check the weapons shops; the women of the clan were as practical and fierce as their menfolk and wouldn’t turn their noses up at a finely made dagger or something of that ilk.

They found an inn with enough rooms to comfortably accommodate everyone. Liu Mingyan was able to have her own room, while Liu Qingge and Yang Yixuan shared. Once the evening meal was eaten, they all drifted out into the city to explore and have a look around. Luo Binghe bustled Shen Qingqiu off without a word, melting into the crowds almost instantly, despite the fact that Shen Qingqiu looked as if he wished to speak to Liu Qingge just moments prior. Liu Qingge watched them go with a faint frown tugging on his lips before he realized that his disciple was attempting to get his attention.

“What?” he snapped, somewhat harsher than he’d intended.

Yang Yixuan was unfazed. “With Shizun’s permission, this disciple would like to wander.”

Liu Qingge nodded, waving a hand. “Fine. Just see to it you stay out of trouble.”

“Of course, Shizun.” Yang Yixuan grinned as he ducked his head in acknowledgment. “See you later, Shizun!” The young man then bounded off into the flow of pedestrians, brimming with energy and curiosity.

Liu Mingyan chuckled as she came to stand at her brother’s side. “That just leaves us then.”

Lui Qingge grunted. “Indeed. I’d walk with you as long as you’re fine with your old brother’s company.”

“You’re not old,” Liu Mingyan chided, giving him an exasperated look. “And I’m always glad of your company.” Her tone was fond, making Liu Qingge’s heart swell. He made an acknowledging noise, at a loss for words in the face of his sister’s affection. Mingyan gave him a knowing look, her dark eyes sparkling, before taking his hand and tugging him out into the flow of humanity along with her.

The merchants’ quarter was bustling, full of all sorts of clamor. Savory and sweet smells drifted on the air from the many food stalls and the clanging of blacksmiths at work at their forges seemed to ring out around every corner. Everywhere the hum of voices rose like an unstoppable tide, rising and falling as conversations swelled and lulled. Liu Qingge trailed Liu Mingyan through the narrow streets, just a step or two behind, following her lead without complaint or suggestion. She ducked into several weapons shops and he took these opportunities to choose the gifts he’d been contemplating earlier. In one shop his gaze was thoroughly caught by a set of beautiful throwing knives, their hilts finely wrapped in tooled black leather; his sharp-tongued aunt would undoubtedly appreciate them, able to throw them as swiftly as she doled out verbal barbs. Liu Qingge promptly bought them and stowed them in his qiankun pouch before moving on to the next weaponsmith. There he let the blacksmith persuade him to buy an unusually elegant iron ruler, its blade covered in delicate etchings and finely sharpened. He knew for a fact that his mother did not own such a weapon and would therefore find it interesting. His final weapons purchase was a silk battle fan, its ribs of sturdy but flexible tempered steel. It would charm his nai-nai. She had several battle fans and he felt confident she would be glad to add this one to her collection.

When Liu Qingge emerged from the weapons shop several gold and silver pieces lighter, he found Liu Mingyan watching him stow the fan away in his pouch with happy crinkled eyes. She undoubtedly knew exactly what he was up to but she chose not to comment on it, merely falling into step at his side again as they continued on down the street.

A light tug on his sleeve made Liu Qingge pause in his steps. He turned to see Liu Mingyan looking up at him, her fine brows arched questioningly.

"Brother, let's look in here." She motioned to the shop to their right, whose swinging sign above the door announced the establishment was a purveyor of fine jewelry.

Liu Qingge's brows furrowed. "A jeweler? I thought you didn't care for such things."

"I don't," Mingyan agreed. "But I know Sha Hualing does and I thought I might find a gift for her here."

Liu Qingge took a second to appreciate the weirdness of his current world, where demons were so commonplace and non-threatening that even his baby sister was involved with one. He sighed internally; if someone had told him ten years ago this was how things would turn out, he wouldn't have believed it.

"Fine, then," Liu Qingge acquiesced to his sister's request with a half-shrug.

Liu Mingyan's eyes crinkled in that way that told him she was smiling at him behind her veil, and she headed for the shop entrance, pulling him along with a hand on his wrist. He went willingly enough. He might huff or grumble good-naturedly but ultimately he was weak to his sister, and always had been, ever since he had held her in his arms for the first time when she had been mere hours old, tiny and infinitely precious. He had been fifteen years old then, gangly and not yet fully grown into his own body. He remembered being terrified for her and vowing he would do whatever it took to protect her.

He couldn't help but wonder now what their parents might think of his relative success or failure on that count. Surely they had never imagined their daughter rubbing elbows with demons.

The two of them slipped into the shop, tinkling bells above the door announcing their arrival. Liu Mingyan let go of her brother's wrist and returned the shopkeeper's greeting. Then she said to Liu Qingge, "I'll try not to take too long."

Liu Qingge shook his head, one corner of his lips twitching upward. "Take your time. You don't need to rush on my account."

Liu Mingyan nodded once and split off, leaving him just inside the doorway. She seemed to be headed for the shiny display of bracelets and bangles at the far end of the room.

Liu Qingge watched her go fondly, before casting a scrutinizing look around the storefront. Everything was tidy and displayed in a manner that spoke of the shopkeeper's pride in his work. Liu Qingge could appreciate that. Perhaps he should make an attempt to be less awkward and conspicuous and take a cue from his sister and browse a bit. There was no harm in looking, right? He knew a jeweler's craft took immense amounts of skill and patience, not unlike a swordsmith, after all. Maybe there would be something worth seeing.

He wandered deeper into the shop, toward the counter, giving Liu Mingyan space to shop without the potential embarrassment of her older brother hovering nearby. A case of earrings caught his eye and he found himself drawn over to peer at them. These were simple single-drop styles meant for young men, less complicated and gaudy than the women's styles nestled in the neighboring case. The thin wire hooks came in silver, gold, or copper, the drops of hammered metal, precious stones, carved wood. The earrings all looked finely made, and worth whatever price the artisan had attached to them.

He had to admit the sight of the earrings made him feel a bit nostalgic.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but Liu Qingge startled a bit when Liu Mingyan suddenly appeared at his elbow, a small bag in hand. She had apparently found something meeting her standards for an appropriate gift for the demoness. She also seemed surprised to see him taking any hint of interest in anything inside the shop.

"Those are pretty," she commented, her gaze roving over the items he had yet to look away from. "Does Brother see something he likes?" Her tone bordered on almost playful.

Liu Qingge glanced at her, brows hitched up in momentary surprise that she even thought such a thing possible. He gave a rueful little smile, shaking his head. "No. Just admiring the craftsmanship."

Liu Mingyan cocked her head to the side, studying him. He looked back indulgently. "What?" he asked.

"Nothing, just trying to imagine you in earrings," Liu Mingyan admitted. Her brows furrowed as if she couldn't quite picture it.

Liu Qingge chuckled. "I used to wear earrings like these, many years ago." It wasn't uncommon for cultivators to adorn themselves in fine garments and jewelry, after all, and even more common for the children of wealthy and noble families like their own family.

Liu Mingyan made an inquiring noise. "Really? I don't recall."

"Mother and Father had my ears pierced when I was about five years old," Liu Qingge explained. "I stopped wearing them when you were only a couple of years old."

Liu Mingyan seemed confused. "Why? You would only have been, what? Seventeen? Still plenty young enough to indulge in such baubles. You still could." The unspoken you’re beautiful enough to get away with it was obvious.

Liu Qingge shrugged, trying for nonchalance. "I kept losing them during training." It was true enough, just not the whole truth. He'd been head disciple of Bai Zhan by then, and such frippery had seemed useless. Not to mention the unpleasant memories so many of his pairs of earrings had stirred up. He could remember pawning all of the earrings at once, eager to be rid of them as if he was also ridding himself of what they represented and what had happened to him.

Liu Mingyan snorted. "Of course you did."

Liu Qingge was saved from having to say anything else by the interruption of the shopkeeper walking over, bringing a polished bronze mirror with him. He smiled and set the mirror on the countertop within easy reach of his customers.

"For the immortal master's use, if he should decide to try any of the earrings."

Liu Qingge opened his mouth to refute the assumption he was looking to buy, but Liu Mingyan anticipated this and replied before he could, "Thank you, sir. Much appreciated." She gave a gracious dip of her head and the shopkeeper smiled again before drifting away.

Liu Mingyan turned her big eyes to Liu Qingge. "Brother, why don't you try a pair? I want to see what you look like. Humor me?"

Liu Qingge sighed. "One pair," he specified, holding up a single finger. He had no intention of letting himself become caught up in this as if it were a game.

His sister's eyes crinkled again. "Just one," she agreed. She reached out and plucked a pair from the display, holding them out to him. "Try these. They have your peak's colors in them."

Liu Qingge opened his hand to accept the earrings. They fell into his palm, cool shiny drops of polished labradorite on smooth silver hooks. The stones shone brightly, catching the light and reflecting several shades of blue, gray, white, and black. They seemed to shimmer and ripple, as if they held fire inside them, ever undulating. He had to admit they were beautiful.

His sister pulled the mirror closer as he reached up to touch one of his earlobes. He could feel the indent of the hole there; it had been so long, would the hooks even go through?

Turned out that with a little push and a faint pinch of pain, they did. Liu Qingge ignored it, carefully straightening the earrings and smoothing his fingertips over the wires. When he pulled his hands away, he realized they were shaking slightly.

Mingyan was gazing at him with something akin to wonder, her eyes wide. "Wow," she murmured.

Liu Qingge caught his reflection in the surface of the mirror and eyed it critically. Of course, he looked older than the last time he'd worn any jewelry and there was a flintiness to his eyes that wasn't there twenty years ago either. Otherwise, he looked much the same, hair still inky black and features fine, almost delicate. The earrings were subtle enough but still drew his eye to the curve of his jaw and down to the line of his throat. There his gaze caught on the scar peeking up out of the high collar of his outer robe, which was not quite high enough to completely hide the evidence of his repeated defeat at the hands of Luo Binghe.

He glanced at his sister, forcing himself to drag his eyes away from that glaring imperfection in his otherwise unmarred skin. "Now you know what I look like in earrings. Satisfied?"

"Oh Qingge, you should buy them!" Liu Mingyan exclaimed, looking unaccountably excited. "They look so good on you, and match your robes nicely."

He huffed, feeling a little embarrassed. "I've no use for such things," he muttered, reaching up to slip the hooks out of his earlobes.

Mingyan was giving him an exasperated look. "Not everything has to be useful all the time," she countered stubbornly. "It's fine to want something just because it's pretty, or because it makes you feel pretty."

Her words made his fingers pause at his ears. Did the earrings make him feel pretty, like they would have years ago? He wasn't sure. Objectively, he knew they didn't look bad. But he couldn’t imagine ever wearing them, so what would be the point? Dealing with the curious stares from his disciples and the probing questions from his fellow peak lords seemed like absolutely the last thing he wanted to deal with on any given day. The prospect of dodging inquiries that might come a little too close to his past for comfort sounded exhausting. Liu Qingge shook his head, a frown tugging at his lips.

“I’d just lose them,” he grumped, quickly slipping the silver hooks from his ears, eager to take them off now. “It would be a waste.” He unceremoniously dumped the earrings into Liu Mingyan’s hand even as she reached out abortively to halt his movements. The innocuous pieces of jewelry seemed to burn his fingers.

“Qingge-” Liu Mingyan seemed bewildered at the sudden shift in his demeanor, the change in his mood, which had been relatively pleasant until now.

“I’ll be outside,” he said abruptly, more harshly than he’d intended, and spun on his heel and headed for the door, leaving his sister staring after him with furrowed brows, the earrings clutched in her closed fingers.

Outside the shop, Liu Qingge took a deep steadying breath, closing his eyes for a long moment. He forced his hands to unclench from the fists they’d curled into; when had that happened? He felt a wash of irritation at himself. He shouldn’t be ruining this time with his sister by allowing his own issues to intrude. He ought to have more self-control than this. But the truth was that ever since he had agreed to return to the family estate for the Mid-Autumn Festival, his nerves had been strung even tighter than usual, his mind whirling with the possibilities of who else might be there. Deng Rouhuan was his father’s closest friend; it seemed all but certain he had been invited and now that he had returned from his travels abroad was all but certain to accept said invitation. The thought of seeing the man again made Liu Qingge’s palms clammy and his back slick with cold sweat. His stomach turned nervously and he had to swallow down the sudden press of bile in his throat.

He wondered hysterically if it was too late to back out, maybe plead an injury too severe to allow him to travel.

He hated feeling like this, flighty, weak, helpless, frightened. It was the antithesis of everything he had come to believe himself to be over the years, everything opposite of what his position as Bai Zhan peak lord signified. It tasted of failure and defeat, bitter disappointment in himself. It reminded Liu Qingge all too well of the times he had faced Luo Binghe during those five long years without Shen Qingqiu. All of his shortcomings starkly highlighted, his inadequacies bared for all to see--

“Brother?” Liu Mingyan’s voice was soft, cutting through his internal self-deprecation. Liu Qingge blinked and looked down at his sister. How long had she been standing there? Her eyes searched his face, concerned. “Are you alright?”

A beat of silence passed during which he schooled his expression back into something even and placid, then he replied, “Yes. Yes, I’m fine, Mingyan.” His voice came out surprisingly steady.

She scrutinized him in silence for a moment longer and he fought the urge to fidget. The pull of her drawn brows practically screamed that she thought he was full of shit, but eventually, her forehead smoothed out and her expression lightened as she decided to take pity on him and let the moment pass. “If you say so,” she conceded, though her voice held a distinct note of uncertainty.

Liu Qingge was beyond grateful for her concession. He’d really rather not have to explain himself out here in the street, within earshot of countless people. Unfortunately, his mood had soured and he spent the rest of the evening with Mingyan struggling between wallowing in sullen silence and heavy-handed attempts to act normal. By the time they made it back to the inn, just as twilight was fully setting in, Liu Mingyan gently took him by the elbow and steered him away from the establishment’s front door, coming to a stop near the corner of the building, far enough away that they were unlikely to be overheard by anyone passing by.

“Qingge, I just want to say I’m sorry about the earrings earlier,” she said in a low voice, her dark eyes apologetic. “I shouldn’t have been so pushy. I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable.”

Liu Qingge blinked, taken aback. It hadn’t crossed his mind that his sister might be upset over the incident too, thinking that he was angry with her over a nonexistent slight. He hastily shook his head. “No, Mingyan, you don’t need to apologize. You did nothing wrong.”

She looked confused, her brows drawing into a frown. “I don’t understand,” she admitted after a moment, sounding bewildered.

Liu Qingge shifted nervously, curling his fingers into palms that were already dampening with sweat. “I was just reminded of some things I’d rather not remember,” he said stiffly.

A beat of silence fell between them. Liu Qingge’s heart hammered as he watched Mingyan try to decide if now was the time to inquire further. He tried to brace himself for her questions, tried to keep his breathing even and calm. Finally, his sister sighed and her knitted brow smoothed out.

“Well, I’m still sorry,” she said. “Next time please just tell me if I’m inadvertently making you uncomfortable.”

It seemed she had decided this time and place wasn’t appropriate for prying and Liu Qingge felt a strange mixture of relief and disappointment. Would he have really broken his silence and told her his most shameful secret? He didn’t know for sure but he thought he might have. He gave her a nod of acknowledgement and then they headed for the door of the inn.

He had absolved his sister from any and all wrongs she had never even committed, but his mind now spun with memories he had worked hard to bury. While the others gathered around a table in the inn’s tavern for a round of drinks and idle chitchat, he excused himself to the room upstairs. He just wasn’t in the mood for any more human interaction.

Yang Yixuan’s eyes were questioning when they caught Liu Qingge’s before he turned away toward the stairs, silently asking if he needed anything. Liu Qingge shook his head minutely in an exchange they’d had many times before. Yang Yixuan frowned the slightest bit before ducking his head in acknowledgement. No, Liu Qingge didn’t need anything right then except some solitude.

By the time his disciple came upstairs, Liu Qingge was already in bed, burrowed under the covers staring at the wall in the dark, wishing he could repair the walls in his mind.

Chapter 6

Notes:

Hello there! Welcome to Willow Manor! I hope you all enjoy this chapter and the new faces <3

If you are returning once again, please know that I see all of you leaving me lovely comments and that you all seriously make my day when I see them! So much appreciation for the level of engagement this fic has gotten <33 It's been amazing! Thank you sooooooo much.

Liu Qingge found his breath stolen by pain before he was even fully awake the next morning. He hadn’t slept well, plagued by the sight of Deng Rouhuan’s face when he closed his eyes. It had been over a decade since he had last seen the man but he could readily recall the lines of his jaw and the slopes of his cheekbones, the sickly sweet curl of his lips, and the cruel glint of his dark eyes. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he also remembered the feeling of those sword-calloused hands on his skin, twining into his hair roughly. All of it had combined into a restless night for Liu Qingge, and then to add insult to injury, his body had decided to grace him with the worst pain he’d had in several weeks.

His joints hurt, aching so acutely that he was afraid to move. The scars all across his body throbbed as if they were fresh wounds. Liu Qingge lay quietly, breathing shallowly in the soft dawn light. In the bed across the room, Yang Yixuan hadn’t yet stirred, and Liu Qingge wondered if he would be able to get up and get to his pouch full of treatments before his disciple woke up. Or more accurately, if he could do so without waking the young man. It seemed an insurmountable challenge at that particular moment.

As soon as he pushed himself upright, he had to bite back a groan as the muscles along his spine twinged and spasmed. Gingerly, he tried to stretch out the pinches, with limited success. In his more despairing moods and some of their bleaker conversations, Mu Qingfang had speculated that it may be possible that over time Liu Qingge could begin to lose portions of his mobility, a thought that was wholly terrifying. But at times like this, he was inclined to believe such a thing was inevitable, as much as he desperately wished otherwise. He threw the blankets aside and carefully put his feet on the cold floor, the sensation jolting him out of the last vestiges of sleep.

A wave of dizziness hit him when he stood up, and Liu Qingge would have been embarrassed if anyone had been there to see how he stumbled to the table where his qiankun pouches lay. Yang Yixuan was still slumbering, thankfully, and he didn’t stir even when Liu Qingge accidentally bumped the edge of the table with his hip in his incoordination. He cursed under his breath as he reached for the smaller pouch Mu Qingfang had made him pack with the best of his treatments. He was once again thankful that his friend had been so insistent and diligent.

His first priority was a painkiller; he pulled out the little bottle filled with greenish-gold pills. Mu Qingfang had made these specially for him in a trial run and when the drug worked unexpectedly well, he began producing them for the usage of the sect as a whole. They were made from the Gold-Tipped Jade Feverfew plant, a semi-rare plant that could only be sourced along the banks of the Zangbo River that flowed through the forest to the southeast of Cang Qiong. Uncorking the bottle, he tipped out a pill and unhesitatingly swallowed it down dry. The next container he withdrew from the pouch was a salve jar, the same one Mu Qingfang had given him at his most recent checkup. The paste had been more effective than expected, bringing a pleasant numbing to his scars when they ached and prickled. He was definitely in need of such a thing this morning or he’d never be able to manage any onward travel. He most certainly did not want to have to explain why he couldn’t, either.

Liu Qingge was just slipping out of his inner robe, letting it fall from his upper body to hang around his waist, when Yang Yixuan showed signs of life, stirring in his bed and cracking his eyes open. When he caught sight of his master, half-naked and clutching a salve jar in one hand, those eyes widened and he sat up swiftly.

“Shizun? What’s wrong?” His disciple sounded and looked unaccountably alarmed, especially for having just woken up. While he had seen Liu Qingge in this half-undressed state a handful of times on the training grounds on the hottest afternoons of mid-summer, this was the first time knowing what he now knew regarding his shizun’s health; the sight of all the scars undoubtedly had taken on a new meaning.

Liu Qingge flushed, his brows knitting as he brandished the jar. It was strange to remember he could be honest with Yang Yixuan now, but a good thing as well because he would have been hard-pressed to pass this scenario off as ‘nothing.’ He cleared his throat and said awkwardly, “Just, um. Some treatments. For this.” He waved his free hand at the mapping of scars across his torso.

Yang Yixuan’s expression showed understanding. “Do you need any help?”

Liu Qingge hesitated. The only person who had ever assisted him with anything of this nature was Mu Qingfang; he was very much used to tending to his ailments by himself. But perhaps it would be fine to accept a helping hand for the harder-to-reach scars, this time? Besides, Yang Yixuan would undoubtedly argue with him if he tried to brush him off.

“I do have a hard time with the ones on my back,” he muttered by way of agreement.

Yang Yixuan nodded and rolled out of bed. Liu Qingge spent the next quarter-shichen sitting stiffly, hair swept forward over a bare shoulder, allowing someone to help him, for once, highly uncomfortable with it but thinking that Mu Qingfang would be proud of him regardless.

+++

By the time Liu Qingge was swinging up into the saddle of a tall, coal-black horse a couple of hours later, he was feeling much more functional. The painkiller had kicked in before he’d even gone to breakfast and his scars were still numbed from the salve. He felt confident he could handle the day’s travel, especially knowing his own bedchamber at home waited at the end of it and not just another room at a random inn. Besides, it would be easy travel; it wasn’t as though they would have to worry about any threats along the road to Willow Manor. The Liu clan always patrolled their lands diligently and kept them clean of any monsters or intruders.

As they set out on the road heading west from Doho City, crossing through the last of the fields and meadows before passing into the treeline into the forest, Yang Yixuan hung close to his master, riding alongside so near Liu Qingge that their knees nearly knocked together. Every so often, the disciple would cast a concerned look at him, biting his lip, brows furrowed. Liu Qingge tried to ignore him but after a while, this proved impossible.

“Don’t be such a worrywart,” he chided into the relative quiet between them. “And stop staring at me every other breath.”

Yang Yixuan looked away, back at the road winding between the trees ahead of them, expression sheepish. “Sorry, Shizun.”

Liu Qingge huffed. He said nothing else for several moments, the only sound their horses’ hooves striking the ground and the wind in the trees. Brightly colored leaves were falling all around in a majestic swirl, carpeting the forest floor. They had several hours of riding ahead of them; it seemed the perfect opportunity to address one of the topics that had been on his mind lately regarding his disciple. Finally, he murmured, “If you wish to speak to Luo Binghe, you need not stop yourself on my account.”

Yang Yixuan jolted in his saddle, surprised at the words, casting a quick glance sidelong at Liu Qingge. “Shizun--”

Liu Qingge held up a hand to stop him. “I know you were friendly with him. It won’t offend me if you wish to be friendly again.”

Yang Yixuan’s expression turned complicated and he was frowning almost as hard as Liu Qingge regularly did. “Shizun, my first loyalty is to you and the sect.”

“I know. And I don’t doubt it at all.” Liu Qingge could say this with full confidence. It was only a handful of days ago that the boy had thrown himself in front of him with his sword drawn, after all, willing to face off against Luo Binghe whom he would have even less chance of defeating than Liu Qingge himself. No, Yang Yixuan’s loyalty and stoutness of heart had never been in question.

There was a pause, then Yang Yixuan said slowly, “If you’re certain…” His voice trailed off in a faint inquiry.

“I am.” Liu Qingge’s voice was firm and his nod resolute. The last thing he wanted was to be the reason two people couldn’t have a relationship and make himself even more of an inconvenience than he already was.

Nothing more was said on the matter and Yang Yixuan continued to ride beside him for some time. Eventually, though, the disciple turned his horse back and Liu Qingge found himself alone at the front of the group. The murmuring of voices soon told him that Yang Yixuan and Luo Binghe were engaged in a spirited discussion; Liu Qingge smiled a little to himself. He settled in for a quiet journey, content to take in his surroundings. The forest had always been one of his favorite places and especially so this time of year. The air was crisp and smelled fresh and earthy, a hint of fallen leaves drifting on the breeze. There was just enough chill to nip at his nose and make him remember childhood hunting forays with his father and uncle into the vast woods. He could recall the heft of a bow in his hands, the quiet anticipation of tracking his prey. The thrill and satisfaction of making a kill. He had felt useful to the household at such a young age; it was really no wonder his self-worth was dependent on what he could do for people, what service he could provide. His own mere existence simply wasn’t enough otherwise.

Liu Qingge had fallen so deep into his reverie that he was taken by surprise when another rider pulled up alongside him.

“How does Liu-shidi fare on this fine morning?” Shen Qingqiu asked in his melodious voice.

Liu Qingge glanced at his fellow peak lord, finding a smile and gentle green eyes directed at him. The man’s face was unguarded by his fan as it typically was; the folded fan was securely tucked into his belt, freeing up his hands for riding. That gaze made Liu Qingge flush even as he tried not to stare. He looked away quickly with a huff. “I’m fine.”

“Good. You seemed tired at breakfast.” There was a pause and then, “I feel like I haven’t had a chance to talk to you at all so far on this journey.” Shen Qingqiu sounded regretful. Liu Qingge grunted but didn’t say anything. Shen Qingqiu continued, “I wanted to apologize for intruding on this trip, shidi.”

Liu Qingge glanced sharply at his fellow peak lord. “What are you talking about? You were invited.”

“Yes, well.” Shen Qingqiu paused, pursing his lips thoughtfully. “Perhaps I should have declined. I was inconsiderate of how it would affect you being around Binghe and for that, I’m truly sorry.”

“My ego isn’t so inflated that I can’t handle his presence, I assure you,” Liu Qingge muttered, his fingers tightening on the reins.

There was a beat of silence and then Shen Qingqiu sighed quietly. “It’s not like that, shidi. I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable, that’s all.”

Liu Qingge scoffed, straightening his shoulders. “It’s fine, Shen Qingqiu. Don’t concern yourself with me and worry about your husband instead.” He could detect the trace of bitterness in his voice with his own ears, unable to completely stop it. Inwardly, he cringed at himself. This was not the way to begin bridging the gaps between them! Trust him to always muddle things up and make them worse. He could easily imagine Mu Qingfang shaking his head at him in disappointment.

Shen Qingqiu didn’t miss his tone of voice either, it seemed, though he didn’t sound angry or offended when he spoke but rather somewhat sad. “Liu-shidi--”

“Leave it, please.” Liu Qingge made a harsh motion with one hand, cutting off Shen Qingqiu’s words. “It’s done, you’re here, he’s here, we’re all here. No sense in fussing about it now.”

There was a faint huff of amused laughter. “Right,” Shen Qingqiu agreed a moment later. “Shidi is always practical.”

Liu Qingge snorted. “I couldn’t run my peak if I wasn’t.” From the corner of his eye, Liu Qingge could see Shen Qingqiu smiling.

“I have missed this,” the man admitted softly. “I’ve missed you, Qingge.”

Liu Qingge’s heart flip-flopped almost painfully. It was almost surreal to hear words such as those, even if they weren’t meant in the way the deepest parts of Liu Qingge’s soul wished they were. Heat flooded his cheeks, regardless, and he looked away quickly, at the trees slipping past, giving himself a moment to gather his composure. He cleared his throat, knowing he couldn’t just leave a statement like that without a response.

“I, um. I have missed you too,” he managed to get out, with somewhat less stumbling over his words than he might have expected. His cheeks flamed; his entire face had to be bright red.

Shen Qingqiu made a little delighted noise. “That makes me happy to hear. I was worried you really didn’t want anything to do with me anymore.”

“That was never the case!” Liu Qingge urgently replied, whipping his head back around, feeling the need to establish this in as unambiguous a manner as possible.

Shen Qingqiu sounded confused when he spoke next. “Then why did you stay away? You’re always welcome on Qing Jing, shidi.”

Liu Qingge sighed. He was really about to expose himself, wasn’t he? “I was…ashamed,” he murmured so quietly his voice could barely be heard over the ambient sounds surrounding them.

“Ashamed of what?” Shen Qingqiu’s tone was low, matching his as he sensed Liu Qingge’s need for some measure of privacy in this conversation. Luckily, their other companions were distracted with their own discussions, and had drifted farther back along the road. “What could you possibly have to be ashamed of?”

Liu Qingge bit his lip so hard it hurt. Did Shen Qingqiu really not have any idea? “I failed you,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Shen Qingqiu turned wide, shocked eyes on Liu Qingge. “What are you talking about?”

“I failed in my mission to retrieve you from Luo Binghe.” It was painful to say it out loud; his breaths came out shaky. He forced himself to continue. “Over and over, I failed you. How could I show my face to you after that?”

Shen Qingqiu had closed his eyes, sighing. “Qingge…” he murmured, almost sadly. When he opened his eyes again, he fixed Liu Qingge with a resolute gaze, eyes flashing with conviction. “I have never thought you failed me. Ever. You sacrificed five years of your life fighting for me. You never gave up. That’s the opposite of failure to me, Qingge.” He gave a humorless chuckle. “How could I not see and appreciate all of that? I wanted to tell you all this, and thank you, but you just never came back to Qing Jing. I guess I thought you just needed some space. I see now that I should have come to Bai Zhan to seek you out. I am sorry that I never did.”

Liu Qingge was struck speechless, staring at Shen Qingqiu with what had to be a stupid expression, eyes wide. If he thought hard enough on it, he had never really imagined Shen Qingqiu would have outright condemned him for his repeated defeats but to hear the man himself so irrefutably and firmly declare the complete opposite was almost overwhelming. He wasn’t sure how to feel; confused, embarrassed, relieved, elated, some measure of all of it at once. His flush hadn’t calmed at all but he was gratified to see that Shen Qingqiu was no better off after his heartfelt admission.

“Thank you,” Liu Qingge finally said softly, ducking his head as his embarrassment won out. He hoped the other man understood all the things he was thanking him for because Liu Qingge was too overwhelmed to hope to explain any of it. This was validation he had never expected to hear and had never realized until this moment how much he had needed to hear it, and specifically from Shen Qingqiu.

“Please don’t distance yourself from me,” Shen Qingqiu pleaded a moment later, an unmistakable desperation coloring his voice. “Even if you don’t wish to come to Qing Jing, I can come to Bai Zhan. Please, Qingge.”

Liu Qingge took a deep, steadying breath. Wasn’t this something that he had wanted? To know that the man he loved didn’t hate him and still wanted him in his life? The chance to spend time together? Surely he’d earned the position to say yes or no as he pleased, even though his heart immediately urged him to agree; his more rational mind was advising caution, lest he be unduly hurt. But was it truly a question at all?

“Alright,” he agreed after a brief quiet.

Shen Qingqiu practically sagged in relief atop his mount, a hand lacing into his horse’s mane as though seeking grounding in the moment. “Thank you, shidi.” His voice was quiet and genuine.

Liu Qingge grunted in reply, nerves too raw to say anything else. However, it didn’t take long for him to remember something else. He turned to Shen Qingqiu and in the most sincere tone he could muster, said, “You should contact Mu Qingfang. He has bestiaries for you.”

Shen Qingqiu blinked. “He does?”

Liu Qingge snorted inelegantly. “Of course.” Was Shen Qingqiu really so dense as to think that all of his friends wanted nothing to do with him now?

Apparently, yes. “I hadn’t imagined he would want to see me,” Shen Qingqiu admitted, ducking his chin and focusing on his horse’s bobbing ears. That rosy flush high on his cheekbones deepened and spread to the tips of his exposed ears. Liu Qingge made a valiant effort not to stare even as he sighed.

“He most certainly would,” Liu Qingge stated with absolute certainty. Hadn’t he just talked about this with Mu Qingfang less than a week ago? “Trust me, Shen Qingqiu.”

Liu Qingge had to look away when Shen Qingqiu’s expression turned almost unbearably fond, a gentle smile turning his lips up at the corners. “I do, shidi. I definitely do.” His voice was warm and sincere and Liu Qingge couldn’t help but feel that there were underlying meanings to those words that he couldn’t quite grasp. An answering warmth spread in his chest, regardless, his heart tripping.

Wonder of wonders, Shen Qingqiu still trusted him. Still wanted him around. Maybe with enough time, Liu Qingge could come to believe that he was deserving of such sentiments.

“I’ll see about those bestiaries when we get back to Cang Qiong,” Shen Qingqiu said, still with a little smile playing on his lips. “Mu-shidi always has the most obscure and delightful ones.” His expression had turned anticipatory.

Liu Qingge nodded in satisfaction, thinking of how surprised and delighted Mu Qingfang would be.

When Shen Qingqiu spoke again, he steered the topic into less emotionally fraught territory, apparently at his limit for the time being. Liu Qingge was content with this; he was still trying to process everything they had already spoken about. “I talked with Liu Mingyan about your family but I want to hear about them from you, Liu-shidi.”

This Liu Qingge could do. The remainder of the trip was spent in conversation about his relatives and his ancestral home, Shen Qingqiu listening intently and asking questions. The leaves continued to swirl down to the ground and the breeze continued to whisper through the treetops. Liu Qingge could almost pretend it was just the two of them. He could almost pretend that all was right in the world and nothing bad had ever happened.

It was a pleasant fantasy while it lasted.

+++

It was early afternoon when the road through the woods widened and entered a sizeable clearing, the location of their final destination. Liu Qingge laid eyes on Willow Manor for the first time in well over five years, taking it all in at a glance before taking the time to study each building individually. Nothing major had changed from how he remembered it looking the last time he’d been here; there was a fresh coat of paint on all the buildings, likely done in anticipation of guests arriving for the festival. The crimson and green hues of the pillars and trim were vibrant against the natural wood walls and black roof tiles. A curl of smoke wafted toward the sky from the kitchens and the sound of wood being split echoed from one of the rear courtyards. Little signs of life were everywhere: a discarded pail sat on the ground next to the well in the outer courtyard, as if someone hadn’t finished their chore of drawing water; a saddle had been slung over the paddock fence near the stable; a bow had been left in the weapons rack at the training yard. The hustle and bustle of Cang Qiong or other large manors in places like Doho City felt a world away. Life moved slower here, far removed from other civilization.

Liu Qingge was unprepared for the emotions stirred up by seeing this place again. He swallowed past the lump in his throat as he pulled his horse to a stop in the outer courtyard, the others doing the same behind him. The clatter of hooves on the paving stones was loud enough to alert several servants in the vicinity, who came swiftly to see who had arrived.

Li Jun was the first to appear, despite being the oldest servant still in the family’s employ; he had been of a comparable age with Liu Qingge’s grandfather when Liu Qingge had been a young boy. Now he was positively ancient, wizened and stooped, using a cane to shuffle along. Liu Qingge felt his heart swell with fondness when he spotted the old man. Li Jun had taught him many skills he would otherwise have never learned as the son of a noble family, like how to split logs and care for the horses.

Li Jun squinted at the gathering of new arrivals for a few moments before he recognized Liu Qingge at the front, still astride his horse. Then his mouth stretched in a happy, toothless smile, eyes crinkling. “Young Master Liu! Welcome home!”

Liu Qingge immediately slid from the saddle, unable to contain his own answering smile, something he was self-aware enough to know was a rare sight. “Li Jun-gong-gong!” Leaving his horse shuffling at the sudden movement, Liu Qingge approached the old man, taking the frail, trembling hand extended toward him between his own.

“It makes my heart so pleased to see you, my boy,” Li Jun told him. “I was worried I wouldn’t see you again. You’ve been gone a long time.”

Liu Qingge’s smile took on a rueful quality. “I was,” he agreed guiltily. “I’m sorry.”

Li Jun scoffed, tapping his cane on the ground. “Nonsense, you’re here now and I’m not dead yet! You’ve been busy doing your cultivator things, no doubt. Tell me, are you still teaching younglings the way of the sword?” The old man’s eyes twinkled.

Liu Qingge huffed a soft laugh. “I’m trying, yes.”

“You’ll have to show me a demonstration of your skills these days,” Li Jun said with a crooked smile.

“Anything for you, gong-gong,” Liu Qingge promised.

“Alright, bring your companions inside. Come, come,” Li Jun commanded briskly, tapping his cane again. “Your parents will be so pleased that you’re here!”

The next few minutes were a flurry as more servants arrived to take the horses, most of them familiar faces who greeted Liu Qingge with smiles and respectful nods. The two who were unfamiliar bowed to him deeply, trying not to stare at the elusive eldest son of the estate. Liu Qingge nodded back, a little flustered at their open admiration.

Liu Mingyan came forward to greet Li Jun, letting the old man pat her cheek fondly, before introducing the rest of their party. He sized up Yang Yixuan before grinning and telling Liu Qingge he had chosen his disciple well, prompting a flush and a stammered thanks from the young man in question. Luo Binghe cracked a lopsided smile and clapped Yang Yixuan on the shoulder teasingly while Shen Qingqiu snapped open his fan and hid a chuckle behind it. Liu Mingyan met her brother’s eyes, her expression soft and grateful. Whatever else may happen during this visit, Liu Qingge knew he would cherish the memory of these moments.

By the time the group was making its way deeper into the estate, someone had already run ahead and notified the family. The next familiar face to appear was strikingly similar to Liu Qingge’s own, so much so that they had been mistaken for brothers on numerous occasions. Liu Jinhai was missing his cousin’s beauty mark and his features weren’t quite as delicate, nor was the slant of his brows as severe but he’d had plenty of interested gazes thrown his way, plenty striking in his own right. He wore fine robes of black jacquard and russet silk, a sword strapped to his back, its intricately detailed hilt visible over his shoulder. Long black hair was drawn back in a loose braid, defiant wisps framing his face. He immediately grinned when he caught sight of Liu Qingge, opening his arms in an expansive welcoming gesture.

“Well, if it isn’t my cousin, the War God himself! We were beginning to think we were chopped liver compared to all your monster hunting and demon slaying.”

Liu Qingge winced; his cousin had no way of knowing there was a demon lord in their midst, but still. “Aiyah, why are you so loud? Your voice hurts my ears,” he chided, though a smile tugged at his lips.

Liu Jinhai pouted, dramatically clasping his hands together over his heart. “Cousin, you wound me! And after we haven’t seen each other in so long. How rude!”

Liu Qingge snorted. “Are you sure you’re blood relation? How did you end up so dramatic?”

“I got it from Mother,” Liu Jinhai replied with a laugh, eyes crinkling in a manner that was purely Liu.

“That explains a lot.” Liu Qingge couldn’t resist one last jab as he stepped toward his cousin and into a brief but tight embrace. When they parted, he allowed Jinhai to rest a forearm across his shoulder as they stood side by side, in the way he always had since they were boys.

“You love me,” Liu Jinhai said smugly, chin raised haughtily. Liu Qingge shook his head but didn’t deny it. Jinhai laughed and then turned his attention to the others. His smile gentled when he saw Liu Mingyan. “Tangmei, many congratulations on managing to convince your brother to drag himself here this year!”

Beside him, Liu Qingge huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, half-annoyed, half-amused. His gaze skipped over Li Jun, was watching the proceedings with an expression of satisfaction and contentment, to Yang Yixuan, who was looking so taken aback by it all that Liu Qingge almost wanted to laugh. His disciple had likely not had any sort of expectations to speak of for his shizun’s family but he obviously still found everything so far rather surprising. Liu Qingge’s eyes moved over to Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe next, where they stood shoulder to shoulder nearby, only to find both of them watching him. Shen Qingqiu’s green eyes were soft where they peered over the top of his fan; if Liu Qingge had to guess, he would say the man was wearing the same charmed expression he had seen on him several days ago at supper. Luo Binghe’s gaze, on the other hand, was particularly intense, dark eyes boring into Liu Qingge in a way that made him want to squirm. He wondered at their scrutiny before remembering this was the most boisterous either of them had ever seen him aside from whenever his temper flared. He flushed and quickly looked away, biting his lip.

Liu Mingyan had said something to Liu Jinhai that Liu Qingge had completely missed but it must have been appropriately witty because their cousin was chuckling, leaning down slightly so Mingyan could press a kiss to his cheek through her veil. She then proceeded to introduce the three others as she had done before with Li Jun.

Liu Jinhai greeted them all as befitting their individual status, bowing in turn. Despite his outgoing nature, he was actually quite well-mannered. “Welcome to Willow Manor! I’m pleased to meet all of you. As you may have deduced, I am the cousin, Liu Jinhai.” He grinned and straightened up, waving them deeper into the estate. “Follow me! There’s more people to meet.”

Jinhai made ready conversation with Yang Yixuan and Luo Binghe as they walked, the two asking after his sword, and Liu Qingge drifted back to fall into step beside Shen Qingqiu. Liu Mingyan brought up the rear with Li Jun, offering the old man her arm and speaking with him, catching up on the latest gossip from the servants’ quarters.

“Your cousin is quite a lively fellow,” Shen Qingqiu commented with a smile, waving his fan idly.

“Yes, he can be a lot at times,” Liu Qingge said, not without a measure of fondness. “We grew up together. Jinhai is only a year younger than me.”

“Mm, I’m sure you two got into plenty of trouble.” Shen Qingqiu huffed a soft laugh.

“We did,” Liu Qingge agreed readily. “Until we became adept at not being caught, at least.”

“Like two peas in a pod,” Shen Qingqiu murmured, using one of those strange idioms he favored from time to time. Liu Qingge hummed but said nothing. Then Shen Qingqiu said sincerely, “Well, he’s as charming as you, so I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.”

Liu Qingge nearly choked. “I-I’m not charming,” he protested, unable to believe his ears.

Shen Qingiu turned a fond smile on him. “The fact that you don’t even realize you are only enhances it, you know,” he said matter of factly, though his eyes twinkled.

Liu Qingge’s brain ground to a halt. Shen Qingqiu thought he was charming? Him, the War God, the Bai Zhan brute? He had been accused of being many things in his life but charming was decidedly not one of them. His steps must have faltered too, because Shen Qingqiu was taking him lightly by the elbow to steer him into the next courtyard.

“Come on, shidi, pick your jaw up off the ground.” The man’s tone was gently teasing.

Liu Qingge quickly scraped himself back together. He wasn’t sure he believed Shen Qingqiu’s words but the thought that he could somehow be charming to the man he loved was pleasant. He knew it wouldn’t do to read too much into it but he let himself smile a bit anyway.

Chapter 7

Notes:

Hello, dear readers! I am back once again with an update introducing a certain someone you've been dreading to meet. Hehe

Please enjoy and leave me a kudos and/or a comment for ten years good luck! :D

In the center of Willow Manor's inner courtyard, in a circle of grassy earth amongst the paving stones, grew a giant willow tree. It was ancient and gnarled, its branches spreading wide, long leaves trailing the ground. The tree had been there for generations, and legend said it was the tree that had given the clan, and the manor, their names.

It had been a fixture in Liu Qingge's formative years, a comforting, steadfast presence, whispering to him when he needed guidance. He was glad to see it again, grateful that it was still healthy and in one piece.

Beside him, Shen Qingiu's steps faltered as he took in the towering willow. "Oh," he breathed. "What a beautiful tree!"

Liu Qingge couldn't help but feel a stab of pride. His spine straightened the slightest bit. "It's our ancestral tree," he murmured. "The symbol of our clan."

Shen Qingiu was smiling, his eyes roving over the willow appreciatively. "Strong and unbent by time and trials," he said in awe. "How fitting for a clan like yours."

Liu Qingge felt a hint of heat creep into his cheeks. He made a noise of agreement but said nothing else as they passed the willow. Up ahead, Liu Jinhai was giving a brief explanation of the tree's significance for Yang Yixuan and Luo Binghe.

They continued on toward the main hall of the estate, Liu Jinhai leading the way and confidently pushing the doors open while waving Liu Qingge forward. "Come, Qingge, as the eldest son you should be at the front."

Liu Qingge grumbled under his breath but didn't argue. Behind him, he could hear Li Jun waving his sister off so she could join him and their cousin ahead of their guests. Jinhai caught his eye and gave him a nod. Liu Qingge took a deep breath and stepped over the threshold into the hall.

Vaulted wooden ceilings stretched overhead, the slats painted in alternating blues and whites to mimic the sky outside, while the walls were natural timber, the floor tiled in pale slate. Long banquet tables had been pushed toward the sides of the hall, out of the way for everyday comings and goings; when the feasting would commence in coming days, they would be pulled out again into the main space, their matching chairs brought from storage. At the far end of the hall, a cluster of chairs around a smaller table and a burning, popping brazier provided a sitting area for socializing and informal meals.

The four people seated there currently all looked up at the intrusion. There was a beat of quiet and then a chair scraped backward.

"Qingge! My son!"

Chen Mingzhu was up and out of her chair swiftly, a wide smile gracing her delicate features. A tall, elegant woman who had passed her almond-shaped eyes and shapely nose on to her children, it was obvious to Liu Qingge that his mother had spent a portion of her day on the training grounds. He could see her sword propped nearby, leaning against the table. She wore unfussy robes of roughspun cotton, her thick black hair pulled back into a braid similar to Liu Jinhai's. Liu Qingge knew she intimidated people with her strong personality and clearly voiced opinions but when he looked at her, he just saw his mother.

"You made it!" She was walking toward him quickly and he found himself moving to meet her, an unbidden smile curling his own lips.

"Hello, Mother." Liu Qingge opened his arms to her just as she did to him, drawing within reach of one another. The next thing he knew, she had wrapped him up tightly in her embrace and he clung to her, squeezing his eyes shut. He swallowed past the lump in his throat; he hadn't been prepared for the rush of emotion brought on by seeing her. His heart ached and he realized how much he had missed her.

"Oh, how I've missed you!" Chen Mingzhu murmured, dropping a kiss against his hair, echoing his own emotions.

"I'm sorry it's been so long," Liu Qingge whispered.

Mingzhu clicked her tongue quietly. "Shh, it's alright. Let's talk about that later. I'm just happy you're here." She held him a moment longer before standing back, hands on his shoulders, studying him. Liu Qingge looked back silently, wondering what she was seeing. Finally, she tilted her head, a soft expression crossing her features before she cupped his cheek in her palm. Her thumb brushed the beauty mark under his eye. "My handsome son. It is so good to see you."

Liu Qingge gave her a crooked half-smile. "It is good to be home," he replied and meant it. At that moment, all of it was good.

When she stepped back to greet her daughter, his father was there. Liu Yichen was just as striking as his wife, tall and broad-shouldered, with strong brows and a sharp jawline that he had given to his son. He also wore simple robes meant for training, a worn but well-cared-for sword belted at his waist. Only the finely carved vambraces and decorated belt he wore indicated he was head of the clan, with their engraved motifs of the willow tree.

“Father.” Liu Qingge’s greeting was more subdued and formal than it had been for his mother.

Liu Yichen nodded, his dark eyes quickly sweeping his son’s form from head to toe; Liu Qingge had to wonder how much his father had heard about his ordeals in recent years. Was he searching for obvious signs of his son’s failures? An injury, perhaps? Liu Qingge clocked the exact moment his father’s eyes found the scar on his throat, lingering for a moment before moving away again. Liu Yichen had always been stern and exacting, expecting Liu Qingge’s absolute highest and best efforts in all that he did. The man had always seemed larger than life, especially to a young Liu Qingge, who had revered his father above all others and sought to emulate him as young boys tended to do. He’d always held his father in the highest regard. Yet when Liu Qingge went to honor his father with a respectful bow, the man reached out a hand to stop him, gripping his elbow with strong yet careful fingers.

“You need not bow to me.” Liu Yichen looked faintly troubled at the idea, brows creasing slightly. “You have been through much these last years. You have earned the right to never bow before me again.”

Liu Qingge struggled to school his expression but knew he surely failed as he was swamped by shock and a strange bittersweet feeling he couldn’t name. The lump in his throat thickened. He straightened and nodded, unable to speak in the face of his father’s quiet acknowledgment of his struggles. He let out a shaky breath.

Liu Yichen’s hand gripped his son’s shoulder steadily, squeezing in a manner Liu Qingge could only call reassuring. “Welcome home, son.”

Liu Qingge had to drop his gaze to the floor, blinking back a sudden stinging in his eyes. “Thank you.” He hoped Yichen would be able to parse the many layers of meaning behind those two words. He had inherited his lack of finesse with words from his father, after all, but also his innate intuitiveness. With any luck, Liu Yichen would understand.

Suddenly there were more people crowding around, more voices greeting him as his aunt and uncle joined the fray. Liu Yawen thumped Liu Qingge between the shoulder blades and ruffled his ponytail the same way he had since Liu Qingge was a young boy. Liu Qingge found himself startled out of his encroaching tears, swept up in the moment's chaos.

“You look none the worse for wear!” Liu Yawen crowed with a grin. Though four years younger than his older brother, Yichen, he was taller still and unapologetically louder. “Wasn’t sure what to expect when we heard about your exploits the last several years.”

Zhang Liling shot a withering glare at her husband, waving a hand at him. “Hush, you,” she said sharply, even as she drew her nephew into her arms for an almost smothering embrace. Liu Qingge didn’t resist, knowing she would get her way regardless, and hid a soft snort in her shoulder. “Of course, our Qingge looks none the worse for wear! He’s the War God, after all!” She squeezed him until he struggled to breathe, her slender arms deceptively strong.

“War Gods still need air, auntie,” Liu Qingge gasped.

Liling released him with a laugh, patting his cheek. “Of course, I’m sorry! I’m just so excited to see you!”

Liu Qingge couldn’t deny that seeing his family had left a warmth in his chest that he had sorely missed.

The next several minutes were filled with introductions between the Liu elders and the guests that had accompanied Qingge and Mingyan. Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe were drawn into conversation with Liu Qingge’s father and uncle while the women took an interest in his head disciple. Yang Yixuan was easily flustered in the face of Zhang Liling and Chen Mingzhu’s fussing over him, blushing deeply.

“A handsome young man. Look at those broad shoulders! Perfect for swordwork.”

“Qingge chose well, I think. You must show us your swordwork and what your shizun has taught you!”

Yang Yixuan could only nod and bow repeatedly until Liu Qingge made his way over to rescue him, drawing him back with a hand on his shoulder. “Mother, Auntie, stop embarrassing my disciple,” he chided with a note of fondness.

“Will you spar for us while you’re here?” Zhang Liling asked unrepentantly.

Liu Qingge inclined his head. “Of course, Auntie. We’ll spar with you too if that would please you.”

“Gods, yes,” Zhang Liling said, rolling her eyes heavenward dramatically as she spread her hands in a mournful manner. “Your uncle has become too predictable recently. It’s not fun to spar with him anymore.”

Liu Qingge shook his head as he snorted at her antics. “Then I will have to remind him not to become too comfortable.”

“Please, by all means, give him a good ass kicking!” Liling exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “He’s truly been slacking off!”

“I’ll take care of it, Auntie,” Liu Qingge promised with a smile. “And Yang Yixuan can spar with him as well.”

Beside Liu Qingge, Yang Yixuan stood a little straighter, expression almost comically solemn. “Of course, Shizun!”

Chen Mingzhu’s smile was gentle. “I’m glad you have a disciple you can rely on, Qingge. I always told you once you became peak lord you didn’t have to do everything yourself.”

“Seems he finally took your advice!” Zhang Liling said, nudging her sister-in-law with her elbow, before turning to ask Yang Yixuan about his sword. The young man offered up the weapon easily for her perusal and while they were distracted, Liu Qingge found himself pinned under his mother’s searching eyes.

“Yes, well.” Chen Mingzhu’s eyes never left her son’s face as she belatedly commented on the other woman’s statement. “Some things must be learned on one’s own.”

Liu Qingge suddenly felt very exposed under his mother’s knowing gaze. He fought the urge to fidget. “That is a lesson I am still learning,” he admitted quietly, ducking his head.

Mingzhu reached out to take his hand in hers, squeezing. “You’re much like your father in that way. As old as he is, he’s still learning too.” Her voice dropped even quieter, her tone softer when she spoke next. “Be gentle with yourself, Qingge. There’s no harm in asking for help from your disciple, or anyone else, for that matter.”

Liu Qingge’s eyes were wide. “Mother--”

“We can talk more later,” Chen Mingzhu said softly. “But I know you’ve been through a lot.” Her head tilted to the side, the faint smile on her lips turning sad. “I can see how tired you are. There are lines here that never used to be.” She reached up to swipe a thumb along the corner of his eye, feather-light.

Liu Qingge nearly sagged in sudden relief. Here was someone that looked at him and saw his weariness, skipping right past the 'are you alright’s?' and straight to 'now you can rest.' He wouldn’t have expected that he’d be this grateful to be seen so transparently and so quickly. Then again, this was his mother and she had always been attentive to him, sensitive to his needs and changes in mood.

“Your rooms are ready for you,” Mingzhu continued, her tone returning to a normal volume. “I assigned a room for your disciple just down the corridor in case you need him for anything.”

“Thank you, Mother.” Liu Qingge cracked a small lopsided smile. “Yang Yixuan will be appreciative of having his own space again.”

Chen Mingzhu chuckled. “Oh, I’m sure he didn’t truly mind sharing space with you. He admires you a great deal, I think.”

Liu Qingge flushed. He had forgotten how observant his mother was, and how unafraid to speak her mind. At this rate, she would only have to see him standing at Shen Qingqiu’s side and somehow instantly know he had given his heart to the man a long time ago, regardless of what Mingyan may or may not have said.

“Your grandparents haven’t arrived yet,” Mingzhu continued. “We expect them to be here tomorrow. Once they are, the festivities will begin.”

Liu Qingge grinned unusually wide, unable to tamp down the sudden stab of excitement at the thought of seeing his grandparents, particularly his grandmother. He’d always had a special bond with his nai-nai. The prospect of seeing her and spending time with her brought pure unadulterated joy like he hadn’t felt in literal years.

Chen Mingzhu was watching him knowingly, her dark eyes shining with happiness at his moment of open jubilation. Perhaps it settled something in her that had been worried for her son. “They’ll be very glad to see you,” she said softly. She cocked her head as she studied him further. “Would you like to rest for a while before supper? Get cleaned up?”

“Mm, actually that sounds good.” Liu Qingge would welcome the chance to wash off the dust from the road.

“I trust you can still recall the way to your rooms?” Chen Mingzhu teased lightly, arching a brow.

“Of course,” Liu Qingge huffed, shaking his head at her, though a tiny smile still tugged at his lips. “I’ll take Yang Yixuan and see that he gets settled in as well.”

Mingzhu nodded. “Very good. I left the door to his room half open. It’s just next to yours.”

Liu Qingge leaned in to kiss his mother’s cheek just as Liu Jinhai sidled up, wearing a crooked but apologetic smile. “Auntie, might I steal my cousin from you?” he asked with a little bow, hands clasped in front of him.

Chen Mingzhu favored her nephew with a gracious smile and patted Liu Qingge’s shoulder. “You may. I suppose I can let him out of my sight for a while.” She tapped her other cheek with a finger, asking for a kiss. Jinhai obliged her and then caught Liu Qingge by the elbow and steered him away from the gathering, leaving Yang Yixuan to fend for himself once more.

“Jinhai, my disciple--” Liu Qingge protested.

“This won’t take but a few moments, he’ll be fine,” Liu Jinhai said, manuevering them all the way to the doors they’d entered through at the far end of the hall. He glanced around quickly; Li Jun hadn’t come inside with them, sitting instead on the bench just outside the doors, so he wouldn’t be able to hear anything from inside while the doors were shut. He released Liu Qingge’s elbow and turned to face him, expression unusually serious.

“What is it?” Liu Qingge asked, frowning once he noticed his cousin’s solemnity.

“Is Luo Binghe the heavenly demon lord you fought for five years?” Liu Jinhai asked, voice low, dark eyes locked on Liu Qingge’s face.

Liu Qingge could feel the blood drain from his face; how had he never considered how strange it was to bring his own assailant into his ancestral home until just now? His reaction to the question was answer enough for Jinhai, who sighed and shook his head.

“Why did you bring him here?!” he hissed incredulously. “Why do you even still speak to him or have anything to do with him?”

Liu Qingge gestured helplessly. “He’s married to Shen Qingqiu. They’re sort of a package deal these days.”

Liu Jinhai stared at him. “That’s actually fucked up, Qingge.”

“What can I do about it?!” Liu Qingge returned defensively. “Shen Qingqiu is my friend. I have to make peace with Luo Binghe eventually.” Even as he said it, humiliation rankled along his spine, bringing a flush of heat to his cheeks. “How do you even know who he is? No one else does.”

“Obviously, or Auntie and Uncle would have thrown a fit already,” Jinhai snorted.

Liu Qingge rolled his eyes. “Something I’d like to avoid, so keep your lips sealed.”

Liu Jinhai crossed his arms and glared at his cousin. “Fine. I don’t like it but I won’t say anything to them for now. If he causes trouble of any kind, you best believe I’m fucking ratting him out right away.”

“He won’t cause trouble.” Liu Qingge sighed. He felt as though he were explaining this to his disciple once again. “If you know who he is, surely you know about Xin Mo and its influence. Xin Mo is out of the picture now.”

“I know about Xin Mo,” Liu Jinhai agreed huffily. “Or at least as much as anyone who wasn’t there knows about it.”

“You never answered my question,” Liu Qingge reminded him.

“I heard the stories of what he did to you when I left clan lands on errands and other travels,” Jinhai whispered harshly, leaning in. His eyes blazed in indignation. “You know I’m really the only one who gets anywhere further away than Doho City. I bumped into some cultivators who were saying some shitty things about you so I beat them up.”

Liu Qingge snorted, giving Jinhai’s shoulder a shove. “Look at you defending my honor. You didn’t need to but thanks anyway.”

Liu Jinhai nodded, raising a hand to push his wayward braid back over his shoulder. “What will you do if literally anyone else finds out about Luo Binghe?”

“Fuck if I know,” Liu Qingge admitted, shoulders dropping. “Figure out a way to play damage control, I guess.”

“I’d rather not have Willow Manor end up leveled to the ground because Auntie, Uncle, Mama, and Papa all decided to challenge the demon lord to a battle royale.” Liu Jinhai pursed his lips.

“I don’t want that either.” Liu Qingge glanced over at where his father and uncle were still conversing with Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe, chewing his lip for a moment. “I’ll have to talk to Shen Qingqiu and make sure he understands that under no circumstances can anything slip out about Luo Binghe’s identity.”

“See that you do,” Liu Jinhai agreed crisply.

“Will you please continue to be normal with Luo Binghe?” Liu Qingge prodded, giving his cousin a flat look. “Now that you’ve spoken with him and set that precedent.”

Liu Jinhai held up his hands placatingly. “I never said I disliked him. He’s likeable enough. I just don’t trust him, is all.”

“Never said you had to trust him.” Liu Qingge could feel the beginnings of a headache forming at his temples, ominous vague pressure. He closed his eyes and rubbed at his forehead.

“Hey.” Liu Jinhai’s voice had gone softer and he reached out to squeeze Liu Qingge’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. You should go get some rest. You look like you could use a nap.”

Liu Qingge huffed but opened his eyes and gave Jinhai a grateful look. “Thanks.” If nothing else, it was nice to know his cousin was so solidly on his side and would have his back no matter what.

“I’ll see you for supper, Qingge.” Liu Jinhai flashed a smile before wandering off toward the others.

Liu Qingge called his disciple over without moving from his spot by the doors. Yang Yixuan managed to extricate himself surprisingly gracefully from his interaction with the women and trotted over, fastening his sword on his back again. His eyes were shining and he looked excited and happy.

“What is it, Shizun?”

“Come. I’ll take you to your room and see that you know where mine is.” Liu Qingge jerked his head toward the doors.

Yang Yixuan grinned. “Lead on, Shizun.”

The two of them slipped out the doors, past the bench where Li Jun was now napping in a shaft of sunlight, and back across the main courtyard. Instead of turning right at the willow toward the exit, Liu Qingge led them left. They passed through a narrower gate and into a smaller courtyard beyond. A well sat in the middle of this one, for ease of drawing baths. As they crossed toward the far side, Liu Qingge pointed out his parents’ chambers, which occupied an entire end of the courtyard, and Mingyan’s rooms nearby.

“This whole side is guest rooms,” he said, pointing to their right. “I’m sure Shen Qingiu and Luo Binghe will have a room there.

“Do your aunt and uncle and cousin also have rooms in this courtyard?” Yang Yixuan asked curiously.

“No, there’s another courtyard off the back corner there,” Liu Qingge explained, pointing in the appropriate direction. “They have rooms back there. They don’t always live here. My aunt and uncle also maintain a smaller manor on the southern border of our territory.”

“Oh, I see.” Yang Yixuan sounded thoughtful. “Then do your grandparents also live elsewhere?”

“Yes, they have a residence on the western border.”

Yang Yixuan let out a low whistle. “The clan lands must be vast!”

“It’s nearly a full day’s ride to the southern border from here,” Liu Qingge said by way of agreement. “And even further to the west where my grandparents live.”

“What about the north?” Yang Yixuan asked curiously.

“Mountains form a natural barrier on the north so the clan has never guarded it that closely,” Liu Qingge admitted, leading his disciple up the steps onto the porch along the far wing of the courtyard. “But by splitting up branches of the family in different areas, the rest of the land can be patrolled much more easily.” He spotted the half open door his mother had mentioned to their right, the last room on this side nestled in the corner. “There. That’s your room. Mother put you right next door to me.” His own chambers were to the left, taking up most of this side of the courtyard, butting up against the corner gate opening onto the next courtyard. The typically empty room which his disciple would be occupying provided a buffer between his rooms and the line of main guest quarters on the adjoining right side of the courtyard.

Yang Yixuan was looking pleased. “Good. I’ll be close by if Shizun should need me for anything.”

Before Liu Qingge could reply, another voice interrupted them, calling out from the direction of the corner gate nearby. “Well, if it isn’t Great Master Liu!” The words held a faintly mocking edge, dripping in saccharine sweetness that nevertheless rang hollow.

Liu Qingge froze. He knew that voice. His heart immediately leapt into his throat and his mouth went dry. He turned slowly to face the newcomer.

Deng Rouhuan stood a stone’s throw away, looking up at him with a small smile tugging at his lips, its edges the slightest bit vicious. The man looked just the same as Liu Qingge remembered; tall and slender, broad shoulders, narrow waist, and long legs, the elegantly masculine form that had so easily caught a young Qingge’s attention. Deng Rouhuan’s hair was still long and coal-black, flowing loose and unadorned over his shoulders. His face was still handsome, if a bit older; a few more lines had settled at the corners of his eyes but his cheekbones were still sharp, his jawline still strong. He held himself with an easy loose-limbed grace that Liu Qingge recalled all too well. Worst of all were his eyes, still velvety brown-black hiding untold depths of cruelty.

“Good to see you, Qingge.” Deng Rouhuan’s gaze shamelessly took him in, sweeping from head to toe appreciatively. Liu Qingge instantly felt filthy. “See you at supper.” He walked away across the courtyard without waiting for a reply, raising a hand in farewell.

Liu Qingge watched him go, unblinking. He was aware of his heart pounding and his breath coming short and ragged. His palms and spine were slick with cold sweat, his knees shaking. Suddenly, the world swayed as a wave of dizziness overtook him. Yang Yixuan swiftly wrapped a hand around his bicep, steadying him.

“Here, Shizun, sit down,” the young man murmured, helping Liu Qingge ease down onto the nearby steps.

“Fuck,” Liu Qingge gasped, feeling unhinged as he glanced over at the corner gate. “He has a room back there, fuck!”

Yang Yixuan crouched in front of him, brows furrowed in concern and some measure of confusion. “Shizun.” He reached out to nudge Liu Qingge’s knee. “Shizun, look at me.”

With an effort, Liu Qingge did, swinging his gaze back to his disciple, focusing on his familiar face. “I can’t--” he wheezed, a hand clawing at the high collar of his robes, suddenly feeling terribly constricted, as if a noose were closing around his neck. His nails scraped the delicate skin of his throat but he didn’t feel the sting at all.

Yang Yixuan frowned, reaching out to capture Liu Qingge’s hand and draw it away, squeezing reassuringly. “Shizun, I need you to breathe with me. Can you do that?”

Liu Qingge took a moment to process the words, then he nodded once. He forced himself to focus on his disciple, never looking away from Yang Yixuan’s face. It felt as though an eternity passed as Liu Qingge struggled to get his breathing under control, to take a full draw of air. But eventually he managed it and his heartbeat calmed. The courtyard was blessedly quiet. Yang Yixuan had thankfully been the only witness to his distress.

“Thank you,” he murmured, flushing hotly as he drew his hand back from his disciple’s grip. His palms were still sweaty; he rubbed them harshly on his robes. “That hasn’t happened in a long time.”

Yang Yixuan looked troubled, brows drawn down in a tight frown. “Are you alright, Shizun?”

Liu Qingge sighed, scrubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands, pressing hard. The telltale throbbing in his temples had only increased and he could feel it migrating behind his eyes. “I’ll be fine,” he muttered before letting his hands fall into his lap.

“Who was that man?” Yang Yixuan asked tentatively.

“A family friend,” Liu Qingge answered faintly, staring down at his fingers.

Yang Yixuan made a confused noise. “But Shizun--”

Liu Qingge glanced up at him sharply. “Leave it. I have nothing more to say about it.”

His disciple hesitated; he obviously had many more questions but in the end, he nodded and held his peace though he continued to look troubled. Liu Qingge was suddenly struck by a sense of paranoia; what if Yang Yixuan started asking other people about this incident? “Don’t say anything to anyone about this, do you understand me?” he blurted abruptly, the words coming out somewhat more forcefully than he’d intended. “It’s no one’s business but mine.”

Yang Yixuan looked startled for all of a few moments before he schooled his face back into his typical nonplussed expression he wore whenever Liu Qingge was in a mood. “Yes, Shizun. I won’t say anything to anyone,” he agreed dutifully.

Liu Qingge nearly sagged in relief. “Good.” He pushed himself up from the step he’d been sitting on, half-heartedly swatting away Yang Yixuan’s hovering hands. “I feel a migraine coming on,” he muttered, turning away toward the door to his rooms. “I’m going to lie down.”

“Should I make sure you’re up for supper?” Yang Yixuan asked from behind him.

The thought of having to attend the evening meal and feel Deng Rouhuan’s eyes on him again made his stomach turn but the rest of his relatives would be there. It wasn’t like the man could do anything besides look while there were so many other people around. Supper ought to be relatively safe, if uncomfortable. “Yes,” he answered shortly, without looking at his disciple. With that, he disappeared through the door into his rooms.

They were just as Liu Qingge remembered leaving them the last time he’d been home. The front sitting room held a low tea table and cushions, a desk off to the side with a brazier nearby. A bookcase along one wall held all the scrolls he’d accumulated while growing up, most of them texts on cultivation or military treatises. A wall scroll painted by Mingyan depicting the ancestral tree hung next to the bookcase, the only decoration to speak of in the room. Moving through the far doorway into his bedroom, he unstrapped Cheng Luan from his back and propped the weapon up near his bed. The sword hummed gently with agitated spiritual energy, reflecting his own turbulent emotional state. Though Cheng Luan was far from being sentient and he would never have to worry about being controlled by it, Liu Qingge could sometimes understand how it had happened with Luo Binghe and Xin Mo. At times like this, being separated from his spiritual blade was something of a quiet relief, breaking the growing feedback loop between weapon and master.

This room was marginally more cluttered than the front room, containing several shelves holding wooden boxes and soapstone coffers. A chest at the foot of the bed held spare blankets. The wardrobe that had once held all of his robes and cloaks was still against the back wall. The table beside his bed still held a lantern and incense burner. A painted divider across the room created a space for changing and bathing and a quick peek behind it revealed the bathtub already filled for him, heating talismans on the sides awaiting a jolt of qi to activate them. Liu Qingge hesitated, thinking that a hot bath sounded nice but also like a lot of work just then. Maybe after supper. Maybe in the morning.

The servants had made up his bed and it looked beyond inviting, moreso than the bathtub. Liu Qingge kicked off his boots and fell onto the soft coverlet, burrowing into it. He gave a contented sigh and let his eyes slide shut. Before he knew it, he was waking up to Yang Yixuan tapping at the door. He hadn’t even realized he’d fallen asleep.

Supper in the main hall was a lively affair, full of conversation and laughter and stories. Liu Qingge seated himself as far away from Deng Rouhuan as he possibly could, ending up at the end of the long table next to Mingyan and across from Luo Binghe. Liu Qingge thought he had never been so thankful to see Luo Binghe’s face; he’d take five more years of beatdowns from the demon over dealing with Deng Rouhuan. He didn’t say more than ten words throughout the meal and barely ate, his appetite non-existent when he could feel Deng Rouhuan discreetly watching him from the other end of the table while keeping conversation running with his parents effortlessly. He refused to look back at the man, eyes firmly fixed on his place setting. Finally, Liu Mingyan leaned over into his space the slightest bit and murmured, “What’s wrong?”

Liu Qingge couldn’t help the way he flinched. His chopsticks clattered against his rice bowl shakily so he laid them down instead before glancing at his sister. “Nothing,” he replied under his breath.

Mingyan gave him a gently chiding look. “You expect me to believe that?” He shrugged and said nothing. She frowned and continued, “Qingge, what happened? You were in a good mood earlier. Now you’ve barely spoken and you aren’t eating.”

“I’m just tired,” he said finally, voice barely more than a whisper, He couldn’t meet her eyes. “I have a headache.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her pursing her lips consideringly. A beat passed then she murmured, “In that case, you should take something for it and go to bed early. I know you won’t want to miss yeye and nai-nai’s arrival tomorrow.”

Liu Qingge made an acknowledging noise. Bed and unconsciousness sounded lovely. It had been a long day, full of emotions that he found tiring. Seeing Deng Rouhuan had been the proverbial cherry on top, the last straw for his already fragile wellbeing. He had known it was inevitable but knowing versus experiencing were two separate things. He hadn’t been prepared at all for the way he had reacted. It was embarrassing to think of but he was secretly thankful Yang Yixuan had been there. The last time he’d reacted in a similar manner to Deng Rouhuan’s presence he’d been alone and the whole thing had been infinitely more frightening and more difficult to work himself out of without another trusted, steadying presence nearby.

“Please finish your rice, at least?” Liu Mingyan implored in a whisper, brows drawn together in concern.

Liu Qingge grumbled but did as his sister requested, knowing she was only trying to look out for him. Then he pressed a kiss to her hair before abandoning his seat to say a round of goodnight’s to his family. He didn’t miss the way his parents both watched him with mild concern. Perhaps he was looking pale and drawn again. He wished he cared about his appearance but he was too tired. He slipped from the hall quietly, the door barely making a sound behind him. Outside the autumn night air was crisp and chill and he took several deep breaths of it. The moonlight and hanging lanterns showed him the way through the courtyards. His rooms were dark but he navigated through them with practiced ease. When he laid down in bed after hurriedly slipping out of his clothes and into a sleeping robe, the silence was almost deafening. After some time, he faintly heard an owl hooting somewhere in the woods just beyond the manor’s walls. All he could think of was the fact that Deng Rouhuan was here and would be sleeping in a room in the next courtyard over. It was horrifying.

Before he fell asleep, Liu Qingge reached over and drew Cheng Luan into bed next to him, a hand wrapped around the hilt. The sword hummed reassuringly, its energy long settled.

It was as good as a lullaby.

Chapter 8

Notes:

Welcome back! This chapter took me a bit longer to get out but it is a bit longer because of that. Just shy of 7300k words, woot woot :D Dialogue heavy but some important interactions here! Hope you all enjoy this chapter.

As always, I deeply appreciate your continued readership and any comments left. I am still blown away by the interaction this fandom has given me, it's unlike any other I've written for. Thank you so much! <3333

The following morning, Liu Qingge woke up with a migraine stabbing his right temple. The soft early dawn light was still bright enough to make him squint and groan, squeezing his eyes shut as the pain in his skull throbbed harder. What stupendous timing. He hadn’t slept all that well and suspected his anxiety and restlessness were at least somewhat partially to blame for his current condition. He lay in bed unmoving, internally cursing and sending up a prayer to whatever god was listening to have some measure of mercy on him.

He wasn’t sure how long he lay there, quietly miserable, but the light had grown significantly stronger the next time he cracked his eyes open. The ache in his skull had traveled down the right side of his neck and into his jaw. His teeth throbbed with it. He could faintly hear the sounds of the manor beginning to wake up for the day beyond the walls of his rooms; the footsteps of servants bustled past in the corridor, voices speaking urgently of the day’s preparations. It was a big day, certainly, with the expected arrival of his grandparents and feasting and other festivities in the afternoon and evening. Liu Qingge let out an aggrieved breath. He wouldn’t be getting out of bed any time soon to join in any of it.

He very carefully rolled over to face the wall, seeking out the shadow just under the windowsill, and closed his eyes again, willing himself to go back to sleep. He knew when he felt like this, sleep was the best cure. Even Mu Qingfang had agreed such was the case, even as he muttered about the number of concussions Liu Qingge had had which certainly didn’t help his Xin Mo-induced ailments. Cheng Luan bumped his knee, lost in the blankets, and he grabbed for it blindly, drawing it back up near his pillow. The blade’s energy was calm, almost soothing, its agitation from the previous day long gone. Having it near was comforting.

The next time Liu Qingge woke up, it was to the slow realization that someone was at his door. A quick peeling open of his heavy eyelids confirmed that it was much brighter in the room and he thought blearily it must be mid-morning. He grunted at the knocking at the door in the next chamber, knowing perfectly well whoever it was wouldn’t be able to hear him. He didn’t care. He didn’t have the energy to even muster up words.

There was a long minute of silence, then came a familiar voice. “Shizun? Are you awake?” It was Yang Yixuan. When another minute went by without an answer, the young man said, “Shizun, forgive this disciple but I’m coming in.”

Liu Qingge supposed his presence had been missed at breakfast. After all, he was typically an early riser.

The door opened and soft footsteps padded into the sitting room crossing to the bedroom doorway where they paused. “Shizun?” Yang Yixuan’s voice was blessedly quiet, barely above a whisper.

Liu Qingge could feel the boy’s eyes on him. He made an acknowledging noise from where he lay but otherwise didn’t move.

“Is he alright?” A second voice came from further away, evidently still at the outer door. It was Shen Qingqiu. Liu Qingge felt a stab of surprise at the man’s presence.

Yang Yixuan was smart and intuitive, and unfortunately had witnessed his master’s migraines before, enough to recognize this for what it was. The disciple apparently turned away and retreated to speak with the other peak lord. Their voices were hushed but Liu Qingge could still hear them well enough if he listened carefully.

“Shizun is still in bed,” Yang Yixuan explained. “If my observations are correct, Shizun is indisposed with a migraine.”

“A migraine?” Shen Qingqiu sounded confused. “I’ve never known Liu-shidi to have such an issue. Is this a recent development?”

“Not really, Shen-shibo. Shizun began having episodes of this nature a few years ago.”

Shen Qingqiu made a little noise that Liu Qingge couldn’t place. Surprise? Realization? Something else? “Is Mu Qingfang aware?” he asked sharply.

“Yes, Shen-shibo,” Yang Yixuan murmured. “Mu-shibo has been trying to find a cure but nothing has worked. Shizun usually remains in bed and sleeps until he feels better.”

“I see.” Shen Qingqiu sounded almost sad. Liu Qingge wondered at that.

“If it is not too forward for this disciple to suggest,” Yang Yixuan said in a cautious tone that could just barely be heard, “Mu-shibo sometimes transfers qi and clears out Shizun’s meridians during these episodes. It always seems to help to ease Shizun’s pain.”

Shen Qingqiu hummed. “Is that so? Might this master do so for your shizun? Or will you do so?”

“This disciple wouldn’t presume to touch Shizun so casually,” Yang Yixuan deflected. “Your assistance would be most helpful, Shen-shibo.”

Liu Qingge wanted to snort. That brat wasn’t even trying to be subtle. Was everyone trying to get him and Shen Qingqiu to speak to one another? At any rate, Shen Qingqiu took it as the invitation it was. Liu Qingge heard him slipping into the front room, steps soundless aside from the gentle rustling of his robes. A moment later, he could feel the man’s presence at the threshold of his bedroom, that achingly familiar qi signature that hadn’t changed despite all that he’d been through. Liu Qingge knew it as well as he knew his own spiritual power.

“Shidi?” Shen Qingqiu’s voice was soft. “May I come in?”

Liu Qingge decided to shift back over and grace his fellow peak lord with the dubious privilege of seeing his face. His eyes opened, squinting at the green-clad figure in his doorway. “Shen Qingqiu,” he greeted, and oh, he really sounded terrible. His voice came out low and hoarse. He swallowed, his throat dry and scratchy.

Shen Qingqiu’s sharp green eyes didn’t miss the bob of his throat. He turned back briefly to address Yang Yixuan, requesting some water. Then his gaze settled once more on Liu Qingge. “May I lend you some of my qi?”

Liu Qingge remembered that Shen Qingqiu had long been cured of Without of a Cure, thanks to Luo Binghe’s status as a heavenly demon. There was no reason to refuse the offer, since it wouldn’t harm Shen Qingqiu to offer his own qi in this manner anymore. Liu Qingge felt a pang; one more way Shen Qingqiu no longer needed him. “Fine,” he managed to croak, sighing.

Shen Qingqiu looked relieved and came further into the room. He seated himself carefully on the edge of the bed near Liu Qingge’s hip. He could feel Shen Qingqiu’s warmth even through his blanket, steady and comforting. Shen Qingqiu laid his folded fan in his lap and raised a hand to brush stray strands of Liu Qingge’s loose hair away from his face. His fingertips were gentle and left a trail of pleasant cooling tingles in their wake. Somehow he was manipulating his qi to be cool rather than warm, tailored for this instance. The tingles spread and left a blessed numbing sensation across Liu Qingge’s temple. Liu Qingge sighed appreciatively, his eyes fluttering closed.

“Is that good, shidi?”

Liu Qingge grunted affirmatively. Shen Qingqiu let out a seemingly relieved breath and added a slight bit of pressure in his touch, circling the area over and over for a minute before letting his fingers trail down along Liu Qingge’s jaw, soothing the ache there as well. The throbbing in Liu Qingge’s teeth gradually eased. He forgot that this was probably inappropriate, that this felt much too tender and intimate, that this was another man’s husband showing him such care, and just soaked in the relief.

Long minutes passed. Liu Qingge felt much more human by the time Yang Yixuan’s voice announced that he had brought water. Shen Qingqiu’s touch left Liu Qingge’s face and he furrowed his brows at the loss. He was about to protest when the other man spoke.

“Have some water, shidi. You sound like you need it.”

Liu Qingge opened his eyes to see Shen Qingqiu holding a cup in his hands, a small smile playing on his lips. Liu Qingge thought he could at least prop himself up on an elbow now to have a drink without worry of fainting or vomiting, so he did just that and reached out a faintly unsteady hand to accept the cup. Shen Qingqiu passed it over but didn’t let go immediately, making sure he had a good grip on it. His hand was warm and soft but still firm. He drank the water slowly as Shen Qingqiu brushed Liu Qingge’s hair back over his shoulder out of the way. The man’s hand lingered as if he wanted to run his fingers through the strands before withdrawing.

“Does this happen often?” Shen Qingqiu asked quietly, looking troubled.

Liu Qingge debated on how to answer for a moment. His brain was still muzzy and he wasn’t sure he had the energy to think of some vaguely clever answer so the truth was what ended up coming out when he replied. “A few times a month.”

Shen Qingqiu’s green eyes widened. “What happened to cause these migraines? Yang Yixuan said this has been going on for a few years.”

Liu Qingge passed the empty cup back and carefully laid back down again. “I ended up with a bad head injury in one of my battles with Luo Binghe,” he said quietly, looking resolutely past Shen Qingqiu’s shoulder. “Mu Qingfang thinks it was just one concussion too many.” He tried to sound nonchalant about it but truthfully the migraines had been annoyingly disruptive to his life in ways his other injuries hadn’t been, what with their stubborn resistance to any and all types of painkillers and herbal remedies. Acupuncture was the only thing that ever seemed to make a difference but even that wasn't a surefire cure.

Shen Qingiu made a little strangled noise, drawing Liu Qingge’s gaze. The other man was looking downright wounded. “I’m so sorry, Qingge,” Shen Qingqiu murmured, his hands twisting in his lap, eyes downcast.

Liu Qingge bristled just a bit. “Don’t you dare pity me. I chose to fight him, you know. I knew the risks.”

Shen Qingqiu shook his head, looking up quickly. “I don’t pity you. I just feel guilty knowing you fought on my behalf and ended up with a lasting injury because of it.”

Liu Qingge huffed, letting his eyes slide shut. “Well, you don’t need to feel guilty either.”

A silence descended but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Eventually, Shen Qingqiu reached out again and touched his temple once more, offering more of that cooling qi. This time his fingertips slid past Liu Qingge’s jaw and down along his neck, unerringly following the places that ached. This touch felt even more intimate than before and Liu Qingge found his pulse rapidly speeding up. No doubt Shen Qingqiu could feel it under the thin skin.

Shen Qingqiu’s fingers stopped atop the scar on Liu Qingge’s throat. “Binghe gave you this, didn’t he?” His voice was nearly a whisper.

Liu Qingge swallowed, throat clicking. “Yes,” he breathed. “And many others.”

“Do they still hurt?”

It was an innocent inquiry, born of concern, but it still made Liu Qingge’s eyes shoot open. Shen Qingqiu’s brows were deeply furrowed, the corners of his lips pulling down into a frown. His green eyes held a troubled glint, locked onto that scar on Liu Qingge’s throat.

“...yes,” Liu Qingge admitted quietly after a beat of silence. “They’ve closed but not truly healed.”

Shen Qingqiu looked faintly ill. “Xin Mo,” he muttered, immediately guessing at what Liu Qingge wasn’t saying.

“Yes.”

Shen Qingqiu closed his eyes. “Fuck.”

Liu Qingge didn’t know what to say so he remained silent, watching Shen Qingqiu. The man seemed to be having some sort of mental debate with himself, as if he wanted to know more but also very much didn’t. Finally, he spoke in an unsteady voice.

“How bad is it?”

Liu Qingge answered quietly, though he again tried for nonchalance. “I’ve had worse.”

Shen Qingqiu’s eyes shot open and he glared at Liu Qingge. “Tell me the truth, Qingge,” he demanded almost angrily, eyes flashing.

There was a moment of hesitation, then Liu Qingge said, “I’m fine most days but when they flare up it can be bad.”

“Does Mu Qingfang treat you for the pain?”

“Naturally.” Liu Qingge tried to shrug. “He’s been searching for a permanent solution for a while now and has been studying the sword hoping it holds some secret he has yet to discover.”

“I see.” Shen Qingqiu’s voice sounded strangled and stiff. “Who else knows?”

“Just Zhangmen-shixiong. And Yang Yixuan.” Liu Qingge figured there was no use in lying or withholding anything at this point. Knowing Shen Qingqiu, he would just stomp over to Qiong Ding and interrogate Yue Qingyuan anyhow, and the sect leader would cave and tell him anything and everything he wanted to know. Yue Qingyuan never could deny Shen Qingqiu anything. “Yang Yixuan only found out a couple of days ago and that was mostly by accident.”

There was a long moment of silence. Shen Qingqiu sat quietly, breathing deliberately and evenly as if he were trying to keep his composure. Liu Qingge watched him, sighing, fingers curled loosely around Cheng Luan’s scabbard. Shen Qingqiu’s fingers tightened around the cup he still held cradled in his hands. “Were you ever going to say anything to me about this?” he asked finally, softly. “Or to Binghe?”

“Why would I?” Liu Qingge murmured, eyes dropping away from the other man’s face. “It’s not either of your problems. And Zhangmen-shixiong determined it would be a security threat if too many people knew.”

“Am I just another person? I care about what’s going on with you, Qingge.” Shen Qingqiu sounded hurt. Liu Qingge shifted uncomfortably but said nothing. “I knew Binghe was working with Mu Qingfang on research into Xin Mo but I never imagined it was related in any way to you,” Shen Qingqiu mused. “How thoughtless of me.”

“You had no reason to assume anything was wrong,” Liu Qingge murmured, settling down into his blankets further, letting his eyes slide closed.

Shen Qingqiu huffed in irritation. “Stop trying to always give me a pass, shidi,” he said sharply. “I haven’t been attentive to your needs and circumstances like I should have been and I am deeply sorry for it.”

Liu Qingge cracked an eye open to look at him. “I’m not your husband,” he pointed out testily. There was no reason for the other peak lord to fuss like this.

Shen Qingqiu gave him a withering look. “Shidi. You don’t need to be so standoffish.”

Chastened, Liu Qingge huffed and turned away, flushing. “Sorry,” he muttered. He knew he got snappish and confrontational during long bouts of pain and sometimes tended to take it out on anyone nearby; usually, that meant Yang Yixuan, who had long grown accustomed to it and knew not to take it personally. But Shen Qingqiu had no such experience and Liu Qingge found himself rather embarrassed. "Pain makes me grumpy," he muttered by way of explanation.

Shen Qingiu let out a soft, barely there laugh. "It's fine, shidi. Just relax. Go back to sleep."

Cool fingers stroked Liu Qingge's forehead, brushing his tangled hair out of the way. The action repeated over and over, until Liu Qingge found himself lulled by it, his consciousness slipping away from him bit by bit.

When he next awoke, his throat was parched again and the pain in his head had receded somewhat. Liu Qingge cracked his eyes open to see Shen Qingiu seated nearby on a cushion, perusing a scroll in his lap with a look of deep concentration. After the initial sharp surprise of seeing the other man still in the room, Liu Qingge took several moments to quietly admire that pretty face, the delicate brows studiously drawn and a shapely bottom lip caught between pearly teeth as Shen Qingiu worried at it absentmindedly. This man was beautiful and Liu Qingge felt he would never tire of looking at him, something he'd been deprived of for the better part of a year. He wanted to make up for it now.

The stillness was interrupted when someone slid the front door to his quarters open and entered.

"Shizun, I brought tea," came Luo Binghe's voice from the front room, pitched low and soft.

Shen Qingiu jolted slightly, startled out of his reading. Liu Qingge felt something unbearably fond twist in his chest at the sight. "And water?" Shen Qingiu asked, matching his husband's volume.

"Yes, also water for Shishu." Luo Binghe came into the bedroom on silent feet, carrying a tea tray with a spread of three cups along with a gently steaming teapot and a small water pitcher. He set it down carefully and gracefully within arm's reach of Shen Qingiu, settling down on his knees at the same time. Liu Qingge couldn't help but be a bit simultaneously awed and jealous of the young man's fluid movements and the striking manner in which he carried himself, even in performing the most mundane tasks. It made sense, considering his royal lineage; Liu Qingge thought wryly it was no wonder Shen Qingiu had been drawn to Luo Binghe. A provincial noble like himself could never hold a candle to someone like Luo Binghe, with his inherent grace and stunning curls and unfairly handsome face.

Luo Binghe picked up the teapot with careful fingers and said quietly, "How is he?" It took Liu Qingge a moment to realize Binghe must be referring to him.

"He's been sleeping soundly enough," Shen Qingiu replied, voice barely audible. "I'll have to wake him soon and see if he wants any food. It’s getting late and he hasn’t eaten since last night. And he barely ate then." Liu Qingge was surprised; he hadn’t imagined that anyone had noticed his lack of appetite at supper the previous evening besides his sister and probably Yang Yixuan. Shen Qingiu's expression was troubled when he reached out to take the teacup Luo Binghe offered him. "I'm really worried about him, Binghe."

There was a beat of silence during which Luo Binghe set the teapot down. "Shishu is tougher than you give him credit for," he said with a wry twist of his lips. Liu Qingge wanted to snort. Binghe would know, wouldn't he?

Shen Qingiu shook his head, wrapping his fingers tighter around the porcelain cup. "I don't know," he murmured. "He seems tired. Weary. Exhausted. I’ve never seen him like this."

"He kept up with me for five years," Luo Binghe said then, lifting a shoulder in a slight shrug. Liu Qingge thought he could hear something like admiration in his voice but that didn't make any sense. Luo Binghe had no reason to be impressed with him. "Anyone would be tired after that. Even Shishu."

Shen Qingiu sighed. "I'm still worried."

Luo Binghe's expression softened immeasurably. "You care for him. It's only natural." Liu Qingge could hear no trace of anger or jealousy or bitterness in those words; the lack of those things made him immensely confused. Shouldn't Luo Binghe be upset that his husband held care or dare he say, fondness for another man, even if it was platonic? He had known Binghe to be the jealous sort, covetous of Shen Qingiu's attention even when he had still been a Qing Jing disciple. It was part of the very basis of their five-year struggle. Why was he so seemingly understanding now?

Shen Qingqiu made a considering noise as he sipped his tea. “You’re not wrong,” he conceded. “But this is more than physical.”

Liu Qingge barely stopped himself from shifting uncomfortably; he didn’t want to draw attention to himself just yet. But that statement threw him. It meant Shen Qingqiu had been watching him, paying heed to his tells that he did his best to cover up, seen through the bluster and bravado he so often hid behind. Was it possible Shen Qingqiu had even noticed something about how he had comported himself at supper last night and somehow connected it to Deng Rouhuan? It seemed impossible that Shen Qingqiu would pay such attention to him.

Luo Binghe cocked his head to the side, his mass of curls shifting with a soft rustling. His hair looked so soft. “You think Shishu has something else going on in his life that’s causing distress?”

“It’s possible.” Shen Qingqiu pursed his lips. His brows tightened in what seemed to be frustration. “There’s so much I’ve missed of his life in recent years. I honestly wouldn’t know.”

“Well, that’s why you accepted the invitation to come here,” Binghe commented. “To fill in those blanks with Shishu.”

Shen Qingqiu made a sound of agreement before smiling at his husband. “Don’t act like you didn’t want to come along too.”

To Liu Qingge’s utter shock, a rosy flush bloomed on Luo Binghe’s sharp cheekbones. “Shizun,” he whined, fidgeting with the edge of his robe. “Don’t embarrass me!”

Shen Qingqiu’s smile turned distinctly teasing. “What’s embarrassing about it, husband? Qingge is beautiful and strong and kind, and as you said, he kept up with you for five years. I’m absolutely the last person who will blame you for being interested.”

Liu Qingge’s brain stuttered, first, at the fact that Shen Qingqiu had complimented him so easily and profusely--seriously, he wasn’t any of those things!--and then at the implication of Luo Binghe’s interest in him. If he were less confused, he would find it flattering, but…why?! And in what way, exactly? Surely not the way he was thinking! Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu were married, after all. He squeezed his eyes shut once more, suddenly realizing that Shen Qingqiu’s remark also implied some deeper interest on his own part, as well, if he really meant he wouldn’t blame his own husband for being interested. Did this mean both of them had really come on this trip with some kind of--romantic motive? Toward him? Of all people? Surely not. The very idea was laughable.

And yet…what if?

He needed to stop this train of thought and stop this conversation before any more ridiculous ideas took hold in his mind. Liu Qingge stirred, doing his best to act as though he were just waking up and hadn’t been eavesdropping. He discreetly pushed Cheng Luan fully behind him and under the folds of the blankets; he didn’t feel like explaining to Luo Binghe why his sword was in bed next to him. Binghe’s sharp eyes would no doubt notice. It was a miracle Shen Qingqiu hadn’t said anything earlier. He probably had simply chalked it up to being a quirk of Liu Qingge’s personality and had thought nothing else of it.

Before he could do anything else, Shen Qingqiu had come to the bedside, moving more swiftly than Liu Qingge had known he could. “Shidi? How are you feeling?” the man asked, looking both concerned and hopeful where he had settled near Liu Qingge's hip.

“Better,” Liu Qingge croaked, his throat too dry to speak much louder than a scratchy whisper. Shen Qingqiu immediately turned and motioned for Luo Binghe to bring a cup of water. Luo Binghe brought the water without saying a word, his manners impeccable as he offered the cup to Liu Qingge directly, keeping his eyes averted. Liu Qingge hesitated, then pushed himself upright slowly; when his head didn’t immediately punish him with a vicious stab of pain to the temple, he breathed a soft sigh of relief and moved to accept the cup. His fingers, still shaky and clumsy with the echoes of pain, brushed Binghe’s, which were pleasantly warm. Liu Qingge could feel the hint of sword calluses at the edge of the pad of Luo Binghe’s index finger, not unlike his own.

When Liu Qingge pulled back to drain the cup, his mouth was even drier than before.

When he was finished, he realized that Luo Binghe had frozen, eyes glued to the neckline of Liu Qingge’s sleeping robe, where the fabric gaped apart and exposed a sizeable portion of his chest and all of the scars marring his skin. Liu Qingge shoved the empty cup into Shen Qingqiu’s hands and then hurriedly tugged his robe closed, flushing.

“What are you looking at?” he barked hoarsely, pulling his loose hair forward over his shoulder and across his chest as an extra barrier against prying eyes.

Luo Binghe jolted at his sharp words and tore his gaze away, looking up at Liu Qingge with a stricken, conflicted expression. “Shishu…” Binghe murmured sadly. “I never realized…”

Liu Qingge huffed exasperatedly. “What, that I might have scars from that fucking cursed sword of yours?”

Luo Binghe flinched ever so slightly; Liu Qingge found no satisfaction in it. Beside Luo Binghe, Shen Qingqiu fiddled with the empty cup, eyes downcast, lips tugging down into a faint frown. There was a long moment of tense silence before Luo Binghe said, “I’m sorry, Liu-shishu. Truly.” He sounded as though he actually meant it, and looked the same, his expression startingly earnest and contrite.

Liu Qingge had to look away from those intent dark eyes, shoulders curling inward, feeling strangely vulnerable. He wasn’t used to people apologizing to him, let alone someone like Luo Binghe. His fingers curled tighter into his robe. The three of them were caught in stillness and awkwardness for another heartbeat before Liu Qingge muttered, “Nothing to be done about it now.” He couldn’t bring himself to say it was alright or that the injuries he’d suffered were nothing, because those statements were blatantly untrue. His life had been irreversibly changed by Luo Binghe’s actions, regardless of Xin Mo’s influence.

Luo Binghe accepted Liu Qingge’s statement without protest. “Is this why Mu-shishu has been researching the sword?” he murmured, voice strained. “Because there was permanent damage?”

Liu Qingge sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. He nodded. “Yes.”

The noise Luo Binghe made in the back of his throat was low, quiet, but soaked in grief and regret. His fingers twitched as if he wanted to reach out to Liu Qingge but wasn’t sure he’d be welcomed. Instead, Shen Qingqiu took one of his husband’s hands in his, lacing their fingers together and squeezing. “Fuck,” Luo Binghe breathed shakily. His free hand curled into a tight fist against his thigh. There was the unmistakable sheen of tears in his eyes when he glanced at Shen Qingqiu. “Did you know about this before now? You don’t seem surprised.”

“Just this morning I found out,” Shen Qingqiu murmured. He looked up at Liu Qingge sorrowfully. “Shidi told me when I came to check on him after he missed breakfast.”

Liu Qingge really didn’t want to have this conversation all over again with Luo Binghe. “Shen Qingqiu, feel free to tell him everything I told you,” he said dismissively, heaving another sigh. “I’d rather not rehash it all again right now.”

Shen Qingqiu nodded solemnly. “Alright, shidi.” He paused briefly, then as if sensing this chapter of conversation was over, asked, “Do you need anything? More water? Food?”

Liu Qingge felt some of the tension drain out of his shoulders at the change in topic. “Some of both, I think. Not a lot of food, though, or anything heavy.”

“Of course.” Shen Qingqiu was turning to Luo Binghe to most likely request he make the trek to the kitchens, or find Yang Yixuan to do it, but the young man was already on his feet, pulling his hand free. He looked as though he was barely hanging on to his composure. “I’ll go, Shizun,” he choked out and practically fled the room. Liu Qingge watched him go, chewing his lower lip. When he turned his attention back to Shen Qingqiu, it was to find the man staring at him.

“What?” Liu Qingge asked, bemused.

“You’re beautiful.” The words tumbled out seemingly faster than Shen Qingqiu could think about them. His eyes widened almost comically and an immediate flush colored his cheeks. “Oh my--fuck--I just mean…um.” He let out a tiny self-deprecating laugh, as if he were realizing denying the words would be of no use. He looked everywhere but at Liu Qingge. “I just mean that you’re pretty, shidi.”

Now Liu Qingge was blushing furiously. His first instinct was to deny the statement but he couldn’t help but remember what he’d overheard. What if there was a chance Shen Qingqiu reciprocated his feelings, even a tiny bit? Maybe it was selfish but he didn’t want to crush that if it were true. “Thank you,” he breathed, ducking his head. A moment later, there was the snap of Shen Qingqiu’s fan opening and the whooshing of disturbed air. Liu Qingge took some satisfaction in the fact that the man was as affected as he was. A beat of silence passed, then he risked a glance up again. Shen Qingqiu was fanning himself swiftly, cheeks burning red. It was an endearing sight; Liu Qingge couldn’t help the way his heart swelled.

Shen Qingqiu hid behind his fan, though his eyes now lingered on Liu Qingge. He seemed to be mustering up the courage to say something else for several moments, before he blurted earnestly, “Your scars will never detract from your beauty, Qingge.”

Liu Qingge’s breath hitched. He suddenly wished he had a fan to hide behind. He did his best to hide behind his hair instead. His cheeks flamed even hotter if that were possible. He thought that he really ought to be protesting this effusive flattery, just for the sake of his pride if nothing else, which he might well have done were they back at Cang Qiong. But here, in the familiarity of his chambers at his family home, with his head still muzzy in the wake of his migraine, he didn’t feel like he needed to. He didn’t feel like he wanted to. It felt good, if somewhat discombobulating, to be the center of Shen Qingqiu’s attention, to know there might be more behind it than simple friendship.

The moment passed when Shen Qingqiu, apparently still flustered at his own outburst, stood and refilled the cup with water, which he then brought back to Liu Qingge, offering it to him wordlessly. Liu Qingge took it and drank it gratefully, his throat still scratchy and dry. After handing it back to the other man once more, Liu Qingge muttered, “Shen Qingqiu, I have something to ask of you.”

“Hmm? What is it, shidi?” Shen Qingqiu settled the empty cup in his lap in favor of giving Liu Qingge his full attention, fan still waving but lower now, revealing more of his face.

“I need you to make sure Luo Binghe’s identity stays hidden. My family can’t find out he’s the one I fought for five years.”

Shen Qingqiu’s brows drew together. “Alright, shidi.” He sounded a bit confused.

“I’m sorry to ask this of you,” Liu Qingge went on, looking up to meet the other man’s gaze. “But my family won’t take it well if they found out. My cousin already knows but he promised not to say anything to anyone else.”

Shen Qingqiu’s gaze grew sharp. “Would Binghe be in danger if anyone else found out?”

Liu Qingge couldn’t blame him for asking but the corner of his lips tugged upward wryly regardless. “You really think they would be an effective threat to him when I couldn’t defeat him? I’m the strongest warrior in the clan.” Shen Qingqiu grunted in what sounded like a mix of acknowledgment and annoyance. Liu Qingge continued, “No, it’s more for the sake of everyone’s peace of mind and the continued good repair of the estate. I have no doubt there would be challenges issued and I don’t wish to see anyone hurt or any buildings demolished.”

Shen Qingqiu sighed. “Fair enough, shidi. I will talk to Binghe about this as well.”

“Thank you.” Liu Qingge shook his head and chuckled self-deprecatingly. “I hadn’t considered how strange it was to bring him here.” Their lives back at the sect were apparently just that odd, that none of this had occurred to any of them. Who in the wider world would even begin to understand the complicated dynamic between the three of them when they barely knew what to make of it themselves?

Shen Qingqiu let out a little puff of air, eyes widening slightly. “I hadn’t either. I’m so sorry, Qingge.” His voice rose upwards in a somewhat panicked tone. “I didn’t intend to make trouble for you or to be an inconvenience. Binghe and I just wanted a chance to--” He cut himself off abruptly, clearing his throat. The fan came back up until just those green eyes were peering over the top. If Liu Qingge looked closely enough, he could see a barely there tremble in the hand holding it.

“You wanted to what?” Liu Qingge asked softly, not looking away from Shen Qingqiu’s eyes.

There was obvious hesitation before Shen Qingqiu answered in nearly a whisper, “We just wanted the chance to talk to you outside the sect.”

Liu Qingge’s heart flip-flopped. He opened his mouth to ask what it was exactly they wanted to talk to him about but he was interrupted by the outer door sliding open and the arrival of Luo Binghe with a tray of food from the kitchens. Just behind him came Chen Mingzhu.

Liu Qingge wanted to curse; what a moment for his mother to walk in on. No doubt he and Shen Qingqiu were both still flushed and wide-eyed. Shen Qingqiu stood hurriedly from where he’d been perched on the edge of the bed, sleeves fluttering and hands waving as he directed Luo Binghe on where to put the food. Liu Qingge immediately missed the man’s warmth near his hip. He caught his mother’s eye, only to see a gentle expression there and a knowing tilt to her lips as they curved faintly in a small smile. She was wearing training robes again, though her weapons were nowhere to be seen. Liu Qingge wondered if she had spent the morning sparring with his disciple.

Once the food had been situated, Chen Mingzhu turned to Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe and graced them with a dazzling smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Thank you both very much for attending to Qingge today. It warms my heart to know he has such attentive people looking out for him at the sect.” Her eyes were intense for a moment as she gazed at the pair before softening again. “But might I ask for some time alone with my son?”

“Yes, of course, Madam Chen!” Shen Qingqiu said hastily, bowing to her respectfully. Beside him, Luo Binghe did the same, without a word. He still looked upset, the edges of his eyes reddened as if he had been weeping. Shen Qingqiu took Luo Binghe by the elbow and steered him toward the door. “Come, husband, let’s go.” He glanced back over his shoulder at Liu Qingge. “We’ll see you later, shidi.”

Liu Qingge raised a hand in farewell, not managing to get any words out before they were gone, the door sliding shut behind them, leaving him with his mother. She walked over, steps light and soundless, and sat down on the edge of the bed in almost the exact spot Shen Qingqiu had occupied.

“How are you?” she asked, tilting her head and studying him. She raised a hand to tenderly tuck his hair behind his ear. “Your disciple informed me you were suffering with a migraine this morning.”

“I’m feeling better,” he answered.

“Good. I didn’t come earlier because I didn’t wish to disturb your rest,” Mingzhu said, smiling again. “I see you were in capable hands.”

Liu Qingge blushed once again. He looked away, embarrassed. “Mother,” he whined, in a way he hadn’t since he’d been a young boy.

Chen Mingzhu chuckled. “I apologize if I interrupted something important,” she continued, relentless in her soft way.

Liu Qingge fought the urge to squirm. “Don’t tease,” he muttered. “I’m not a child anymore.”

“No, you definitely are not,” Chen Mingzhu agreed, her tone fond. “Would you like to get out of bed to eat? Or should I bring it to you?”

Liu Qingge was grateful for the change in topic, even though he suspected it was only temporary. “I’ll get up,” he decided, and his mother nodded once and stood. He threw back the blankets and rose from bed slowly and carefully. He felt a bit weak and shaky, as he often did in the aftermath of a migraine, but there was no fresh pain or discomfort. He knew he must look a mess, his sleeping robe rumpled and hair tangled, but he would worry about that after he ate. He settled down at the low table in the front room where Luo Binghe had carefully arranged the dishes he had brought, and Chen Mingzhu sat down across from him. There was a bowl of lightly steaming congee, no doubt leftover from breakfast, and a small plate of pickled cucumbers and turnips. Not too much food, just as he’d requested. As he picked up the bowl of congee and a spoon, his mother spoke.

“We had word from the western scout patrol about an incense time ago,” she commented. “Your grandparents should be here in time for supper. They were spotted along the western road.”

Liu Qingge glanced up. “Is there going to be feasting tonight, then?”

“Not a formal one,” Mingzhu replied. “We’ll have the first formal feast tomorrow night. More friends are expected in the morning for it. Tonight will just be family.”

And Deng Rouhuan, Liu Qingge thought sourly. He didn’t allow the reminder of the man to turn his stomach this time, knowing he needed to eat and he would face unwanted questions if he suddenly lost his appetite. But he still hesitated before digging into the congee, steeling himself.

“No need to get too fancy tonight,” Chen Mingzhu added, watching him swallow down the congee. “Will you wish to bathe beforehand?”

Liu Qingge grunted, nodding. He swallowed a spoonful of congee and said, “Yes. I didn’t last night.”

“Alright.” Chen Mingzhu pushed herself up from the floor. “I’ll activate the heating talismans on your tub.” She disappeared back into his bedroom, around the corner to where his bathtub sat behind the painted screen. Liu Qingge was draining the bowl of the last bits of congee when she came back with his carved bamboo comb in one hand and a bottle of hair oil in the other. He looked up at her questioningly.

“Finish your food,” she said with a smile. “I’ll comb your hair out while you do. You’ve got some pretty nasty tangles in there from the looks of it.”

Liu Qingge said nothing as she settled down behind him, just reached for the plate and chopsticks. Moments later, he felt the gentle pull of the comb through his tresses alongside his mother’s fingers as she worked out the snarls. Comfortable silence fell between them. It had been countless years since Liu Qingge had been treated to his mother combing his hair and he found himself savoring it, relaxing into her gentle ministrations. The light herbal scent of the oil floated on the air around them. Liu Qingge felt safe and loved. It was a relief after the stress and fear of the previous night and even the confusion and tension of earlier that day.

An indeterminate amount of time passed. Liu Qingge had long since finished eating and set the dishes and utensils aside and nearly slipped into a meditative state when his mother spoke, murmuring softly so as not to disrupt the peaceful atmosphere. “Do you remember when I used to comb your hair and braid it every morning?” Liu Qingge made an acknowledging noise. Her fingers ran through his hair gently as she continued. “Your hair has always been so shiny and thick and pretty. Hard to manage when you were young and always running about getting into trouble with your cousin.” It was impossible not to hear the smile in her voice. “I knew by the time you were ten years old you would grow up into a stunning man. And you absolutely have. It’s always only been a matter of time before someone fell in love with you. It’s just always been my hope that whoever it was would be worthy of you.”

Liu Qingge was blushing again, thankful his mother couldn’t see his face. “Why are you bringing this up now?” he asked in an embarrassed tone.

“Master Shen is more than a friend, isn’t he?” Chen Mingzhu cut straight to the point.

Liu Qingge let out a surprised huff, shoulders bunching up involuntarily before dropping again. His reaction was answer enough for his perceptive mother but he still murmured hesitantly, “...yes. Dammit. I’ve loved him for a long time.” It was surprisingly easy to admit but then again, he did tell his mother lots of things.

Chen Mingzhu hummed consideringly. “And how does he feel about you?”

“I’m…not entirely sure,” Liu Qingge admitted. Before today, he would have readily said Shen Qingqiu was just an old friend but now he wasn’t certain. The bits he’d overheard and the interactions he’d had today with the man in question was making him cautiously reassess that viewpoint. “We’ve been friends for a decade.”

“It certainly seems as though he may return your feelings,” Chen Mingzhu said quietly, sliding her fingers up along the back of his skull to scratch at his scalp lightly. She had finished her task of combing and was merely finding ways to prolong this so they could talk. Liu Qingge wasn’t going to complain. “Normally this would make me glad for you but I can’t help but worry considering Master Shen is a married man.”

“Believe me, Mother, I’ve already fretted about all that.”

Chen Mingzhu huffed a small laugh. “If you can find an arrangement that pleases all parties involved, I’ll give my blessing. I just hope you’ll be careful. I don’t want to see you have your heart broken, Qingge.” She dropped a kiss on his shoulder. “I want my only son to be happy and cherished and treated the way he deserves to be.”

Liu Qingge couldn’t help but smile a little, even if it seemed to him that she was making an awful lot of likely frivolous assumptions about what might be going on with him and Shen Qingqiu. Even if Shen Qingqiu held some measure of non-platonic feeling for him, it was unlikely to lead to anything beyond what they’d always had. “Thank you. I’ll be careful.”

“Good.” Chen Mingzhu sounded relieved. She drug her fingers through the length of his hair one more time before standing and returning his comb where she’d gotten it from. When she returned to the front room, she leaned down to plant a kiss on the crown of Liu Qingge’s head. “Take your time cleaning up. I’ll send a servant for the dishes later and your disciple to inform you of your grandparents’ arrival if you’ve not emerged before then. He’s been sparring all day.”

Liu Qingge chuckled. “I’m not surprised.”

“He takes after you,” his mother commented as she headed for the door. She paused at the threshold to smile at him warmly. “You’ve done well, Qingge. I’m so proud of you.” With that, she left, closing the door quietly.

Liu Qingge rose to head to his bath with a smile of his own.

Chapter 9

Notes:

Hello, everyone! I have returned with an update. It took me a bit longer simply because I struggled a bit with this one. I hope it's still enjoyable. Mostly building on some dynamics here, plus meeting the grandparents! They're a little quirky and fun so I hope you all enjoy this glimpse of them.

Once again, thank you sooooooooooo much for the incredible support and love for this story! I appreciate it and all of you more than I can properly say <3 Looking forward to continuing the journey with all of you!

Liu Qingge took his time in the bath, scrubbing away the dust and dirt and sweat from the road. He didn’t often indulge in such luxuries but right then it felt restorative, the solitude refreshing. It gave him a chance to decompress after the conversations of the day so far, pondering over all of it in an almost detached manner. He found he was less distressed than he’d thought he would be over having revealed his chronic injuries to both Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe. Instead, it was something of a relief, one less thing to have to work at hiding. He decided that if the sect leader was going to be angry with him about it, he would just deal with that when the time came.

The white lines of scars crisscrossed his pale skin in jagged slashes and Liu Qingge paused to examine them, running calloused fingertips lightly along them. Some of the scars were smooth, others were bumpy with bunched tissue. Most of them had required stitches, sewn in by Mu Qingfang’s careful hands. Liu Qingge traced a long scar that spanned his right thigh; it narrowly missed the artery in his leg, a stroke of luck on a particularly trying day of combat with Luo Binghe. He would have bled out swiftly if Xin Mo had nicked the artery. Mu Qingfang had nearly genuinely panicked when Liu Qingge had drug himself to see the healer for treatment, thinking Liu Qingge was moments from death until the blood had been cleared away enough to see that the artery was unharmed. Liu Qingge would never forget the desperation in his friend’s eyes as he packed the wound to stop the bleeding, lower lip wobbly and eyes glassy with gathered tears.

His skirmishes with Luo Binghe had affected many more people than just the two of them and that was perhaps Liu Qingge’s biggest regret, that his friends had been hurt by extension.

Liu Qingge rose from the bath, the still-warm water streaming down his bare skin. He stepped out, shivering, and quickly reached for a towel. He felt more human and functional now that he was clean but he was now eager to dry off and get into fresh robes.

An incense time later, Liu Qingge stepped out of his rooms for the first time in nearly a full day, wearing a set of his nicest everyday robes in Bai Zhan blue and white, his hair drawn up in its typical high ponytail, swinging shiny and free after all the careful combing and application of oils his mother had done for him not long ago. The ends had gotten wet in the bathwater but were now drying rapidly. Cheng Luan was belted at his waist, a comforting and familiar weight. He crossed the empty courtyard and headed in the direction of the training grounds, the surest place to locate another person at Willow Manor.

Before he drew within sight of the grounds, he could hear the sounds of clashing swords and yelling voices, a general commotion that told him there must be sparring taking place. The prospect of a fight sounded good to Liu Qingge after being immobile in bed for so long and his steps quickened.

Willow Manor’s training grounds were located toward the rear of the estate, behind the main courtyard near the kitchens and storehouses but before the servants’ quarters, tucked against the side wall where the archery targets were lined up. In case of errant arrows or other projectiles, they could fly harmlessly over the wall and into the forest beyond. The grounds were spacious, allowing ample room for several archers to practice simultaneously with up to four adjacent sparring pairs. The area was well-cared for and saw daily use by everyone in the family and even some of the servants in their spare time.

When Liu Qingge rounded the corner to the training grounds, he saw that his parents, aunt, uncle, cousin, sister, and disciple were all present. Yang Yixuan was currently engaged in a duel with an eighth person; Liu Qingge’s steps faltered when he realized who it was and he very nearly considered fleeing before anyone noticed his presence.

Deng Rouhuan moved in a flurry of swirling robes and flowing hair, the glint of his sword bright and brilliant as he parried aside Yang Yixuan’s blade. The two of them were locked in close combat, raising a small cloud of dust under their feet as they pushed each other back and forth across the dirt. Liu Qingge could see the exhilarated grin on his disciple’s face; no doubt the young man was having the time of his life, getting the chance to test his skills against other sword-wielding cultivators and even perhaps learn something new. It must be a nice change of pace from sparring repeatedly with his shizun, Liu Qingge thought wryly. Yang Yixuan was in fine form, he noted with some pride, trading blow for blow unhesitatingly, obviously not holding anything back.

For his part, Deng Rouhuan appeared to be giving Yang Yixuan his full attention and the honor of a proper duel by treating the youngster as a serious opponent. Liu Qingge’s hand tightened around Cheng Luan’s hilt. He still remembered the way it had felt to be on the receiving end of that attention. The man had treated him just the same, after all. A sudden fierce protectiveness rose up in Liu Qingge’s chest at the thought and forced his feet onward toward where everyone was gathered. Yang Yixuan was his charge and he would be damned if the boy ended up in a perilous situation because Liu Qingge was too afraid to face Deng Rouhuan. The mistakes of the past would not be repeated under his watchful eyes.

Deng Rouhuan would have to kill him first if he wished to ever lay his filthy hands on Yang Yixuan.

Chen Mingzhu looked up as Liu Qingge approached, her dark eyes fixing on him. She smiled, looking relieved to see him up and about. “Qingge,” she greeted, reaching out to hook a hand in the crook of his elbow and draw him close to her side. “Still doing alright?”

He nodded, allowing himself to lean ever so slightly into her for a moment before straightening again. He jerked his chin toward the ongoing duel. “What’s happening here?”

Mingzhu smiled wider. “Your disciple is holding his own against Rouhuan, that’s what. Yang Yixuan has sparred with all of us today and performed admirably every time. He’s a very capable warrior. You’ve trained him well.”

Liu Qingge flushed and shifted in embarrassment, despite his concern over the events unfolding on the sparring field. He had to keep his composure as best he could; it wouldn’t do to arouse suspicions by becoming overly agitated regarding the circumstances. “Yang Yixuan has natural talent. All I’ve done is polish it a bit.”

Mingzhu tutted, patting his arm with her free hand. “You ought to give yourself more credit, Qingge,” she said softly.

He huffed but said nothing, eyes locked on the combat. He saw the exact moment that Yang Yixuan made a small mistake that Liu Qingge instantly knew would cost him the match. He stepped right when he should have stepped left, falling into Deng Rouhuan’s trap, allowing the older man to press his advantage and throw Yang Yixuan off balance. In mere moments, Liu Qingge’s student had been overpowered, his sword knocked away and the flat of the opposing blade pressed against his throat. Yang Yixuan raised both hands in surrender without hesitation or complaint. To be fair, Deng Rouhuan was a cunning swordsman with decades of experience, so there was little humiliation in this defeat for a budding young cultivator like Yang Yixuan. Immediately, the gathered spectators broke out in applause.

“A good showing!” Liu Qingge’s uncle bellowed.

Deng Rouhuan backed off, lowering his sword, and Yang Yixuan turned to his audience and bowed, grinning. When his eyes caught on his master, who had seemingly appeared out of thin air, his expression became even more joyous. “Shizun!” The young man scooped up Jia Xue from where it lay in the dirt and trotted over, leaving Deng Rouhuan wiping the sweat from his brow and sliding his own weapon into its sheath. Liu Qingge watched him for a long moment, eyes narrowed, before forcing his gaze to his approaching disciple.

“Clean your weapon up,” Liu Qingge instructed tersely when Yang Yixuan drew near. “Your spiritual weapon deserves better.”

“Of course, I will, Shizun,” Yang Yixuan agreed, ducking his head briefly in a show of respectful acknowledgment. “I’ve been training all day!” His eyes were shining with the energy and exuberance of youth.

Liu Qingge softened the slightest bit, reaching out to grip the boy’s shoulder. “So I hear. It’s good that you’ve had some different sparring partners besides me.”

Yang Yixuan tilted his head and his grin simmered down into a smaller but no less genuine smile. “It’s never boring sparring with you, Shizun, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Ah, this kid! He was growing more perceptive by the day. “Alright, just go take a break, pipsqueak,” he huffed, not entirely able to keep the teasing tone out of his voice. ‘Pipsqueak’ was more an endearment these days than anything else, considering how Yang Yixuan had already surpassed his master in height a year or two earlier.

Yang Yixuan was practically beaming as he headed for a nearby bench to sit and clean up his sword. Beside Liu Qingge, Chen Mingzhu had observed the whole exchange with a soft expression. She didn’t say anything but leaned in to kiss her son’s cheek, squeezing his arm where she still held it. Liu Qingge remembered what she’d said as she left his chambers earlier: 'I'm proud of you.' His heart swelled knowing his mother still took pride in him and believed in him despite his less-than-stellar track record as of late.

“Well, well,” Deng Rouhuan’s voice drawled from the field. “I’ve sparred with the student; why not the master?”

Liu Qingge looked up sharply to find Deng Rouhuan’s gaze settled directly on him, his stance relaxed though his arms were crossed in challenge. One corner of his lips tilted up in a faintly mocking smile. Liu Qingge returned that gaze as steadily as he could manage; if the bastard’s attention was on him that meant it was off Yang Yixuan and that suited Liu Qingge just fine at that moment. He said nothing but accepted the challenge with a single nod, disentangling himself from his mother’s grip to stride onto the field. Deng Rouhuan’s eyes followed him the entire way, glinting with something that looked uncomfortably like hunger. Liu Qingge resisted the urge to shudder in repulsion.

Cheng Luan was unsheathed and in his hand before he had barely summoned it, the blade already picking up on his anxiety. Falling back on his muscle memory, Liu Qingge settled into an opening posture, taking several deep steadying breaths and consciously keeping his shoulders loose. It wouldn’t do any good for his body to lock up and restrict his range of motion. Across from him, Deng Rouhuan had also unsheathed his sword and was eyeing him assessingly.

They faced each other silently for several long moments. The commotion of voices from the side of the field fell away as Liu Qingge’s focus narrowed to the man in front of him. He spotted the minute tensing of muscles in shoulders and forearms an instant before Deng Rouhuan launched his first attack in a burst of speed, immediately putting Liu Qingge on the defensive. He found himself giving up several steps’ worth of ground before he gathered his wits enough to dig in his heels and push back, leaning his weight into his arms and where their blades were crossed, locked together. The older man’s proximity was unsettling, throwing off his reactions and reflexes in a way that instantly rankled.

Deng Rouhuan had the audacity to grin at him over the shining steel. “There you are, the fierce War God. Give me a good tussle, Qingge!”

Liu Qingge bared his teeth and snarled, “Shut the fuck up!” He redoubled his efforts and pushed the offending sword out to the side, breaking their stalemate, and immediately striking at Deng Rouhuan’s unprotected left side. The flat of Cheng Luan’s blade connected, slapping Deng Rouhuan’s ribs in a satisfying smack. From the side of the field, Liu Jinhai clapped his hands and called out, “One point to Qingge!”

The two combatants broke away and put several meters of space in between them, readying for a second round. This time, Liu Qingge attacked first, barely giving Deng Rouhuan time to turn to face him before he was closing in for a devastating overhead slash, a blow that would easily cleave an opponent in two from shoulder to opposite hip in a real battle. Liu Qingge found himself wishing he didn’t have to hold back, that he could simply strike Deng Rouhuan down with the full force of his strength, right there, right then. Deng Rouhuan’s eyes widened briefly and he stepped back hurriedly, swiftly bringing his sword up to block the strike, barely managing to deflect Cheng Luan. He couldn’t fully stop Liu Qingge’s momentum, however, and the two of them stumbled backward. Liu Qingge saw an opening and slid his foot behind Deng Rouhuan’s, tripping the man up and throwing him off balance. With a whoop of surprise, Deng Rouhuan tipped backward and Liu Qingge went with him, carried by his own momentum and compromised balance. They tumbled into the dirt in a flurry of robes, streaming hair, and ringing blades. Liu Qingge found himself sprawled on Deng Rouhuan’s chest.

Deng Rouhuan chuckled. “Well, this is an unexpected view but I’m not complaining.”

“Ugh, you’re disgusting,” Liu Qingge hissed, hurrying to get his feet under him and push himself upright and away. His skin was absolutely crawling.

“One point for Qingge!” Liu Jinhai called out again, looking unaccountably excited on his cousin’s behalf as he bounced on the balls of his feet. “Best two out of three makes for a winner!”

Liu Qingge felt no satisfaction at having been the victor. Being forced to be this close to Deng Rouhuan sapped all enjoyment out of the swordwork and give-and-take dance he would normally engage in with literally anyone else. He thought with no small amount of irony that fighting Luo Binghe would have been a much better time.

Deng Rouhuan had risen and was giving his sword a lazy twirl, his gaze still on Liu Qingge. “You’ve won this bout, unsurprisingly,” he commented with an easy tilt of his lips. “I would expect nothing less from Bai Zhan’s master. Would you do me the honor of one more round anyway?”

Liu Qingge desperately wanted to beg off but he had a reputation to uphold, even if it was somewhat tarnished these days. He turned again to face Deng Rouhuan. “Fine,” he said curtly, bringing Cheng Luan up once more.

Deng Rouhuan’s grin was almost feral. This round was much more violent than the previous two; it seemed Deng Rouhuan had decided not to hold anything back, forcing Liu Qingge to answer in kind to avoid injury. There was a flurry of quick blows and parries, accompanied by swift footwork. Judicious use of spiritual energy on both sides accelerated their movements to nearly a blur to their onlookers but on the field, the two of them were in a bubble of their own. Finally, Liu Qingge got in a winning strike, feinting to one side before pulling in close and angling his blade so that the sharp edge grazed Deng Rouhuan’s throat.

The older man froze. His eyes bored into Liu Qingge’s. “You’ve done it again,” he said lightly, belying the intensity of his gaze. “I don’t think I’d ever be able to best you. If I would have known, I would have enjoyed wrecking your sweet ass more when you were younger and less skilled.”

Liu Qingge felt ill at the words and their implications. He put more weight into his blade. “You sick fuck. Stay away from my disciple,” he growled warningly.

Deng Rouhuan’s lip curled. “Don’t worry, Qingge. No one could compare to you.”

“Bastard,” Liu Qingge muttered, before letting up and stepping away. Deng Rouhuan's quiet chuckle followed him as he sheathed Cheng Luan and stalked back toward his gathered relatives. The sound sent an unpleasant shiver down his spine. His scowl deepened, so much so that his mother shot him a concerned glance. He caught her eye and made a conscious effort to relax and school his expression into something more pleasant. He knew it was unconvincing when she frowned right back at him the slightest bit, her eyes questioning. He shook his head at her minutely, trying to convey that he was fine and she shouldn’t worry. If that wasn’t entirely true, no one but him had to know that.

Just then, a voice rang out from the entrance to the training grounds. “Guests arriving!” Li Jun bellowed, his tone hearty and hale for such an ancient man. He banged his walking stick against the stone archway he stood under for emphasis. “The esteemed Elder Liu and Lady Wu are arriving!”

Liu Qingge immediately felt most of his bad mood evaporate. His grandparents had made it to the estate at long last. He felt a stab of genuine excitement and couldn’t help but crack a small smile. The gathered family all immediately began moving toward Li Jun and the direction of the main courtyard, where they would greet the newcomers. Liu Jinhai clapped Liu Qingge on the shoulder as he passed by, shooting him a grin.

“Glad to see you’re no slouch these days, Qingge,” he teased. His eyes twinkled mischievously as he swept on ahead.

Liu Qingge snorted. “I’ll be a slouch when I’m dead.”

“Ugh, please don’t joke about that,” Liu Mingyan interjected as she drew up at her brother’s elbow. Liu Qingge immediately felt contrite; he knew his sister had been genuinely afraid several times over those long five years that she was about to lose him when he drug himself back to the sect teetering on death’s doorstep. There was even that one time he hadn’t made it back before passing out on the return journey. He’d fallen from Cheng Luan and snagged several tree branches on the way down, finally ending up in a heap on the forest floor, where he’d remained unconscious until a search party had located him. Mingyan had been in that search party. He remembered nothing between the first moments of the fall and waking up in a bed in the healing ward on Qian Cao, where his first sight had been his sister’s tear-streaked face, her veil askew and dangling from one side of her face. He’d looped a shaky arm around her as she’d sobbed into his chest, his heart breaking at her grief.

Chastened, Liu Qingge murmured, “Sorry, sister.”

The others had gone on ahead hurriedly but she tugged at his sleeve to keep him back. The only other person nearby was Yang Yixuan, who was sheathing his sword and straightening his robes, seemingly distracted with tidying his appearance for meeting more new people. Mingyan turned to look up at Liu Qingge, her eyes searching his face. She wasn’t wearing a veil today; she rarely did while at home among family and trusted servants.

“What was that out there?” she asked softly.

“What are you talking about?” Liu Qingge could guess what she meant but he played dumb nonetheless.

Liu Mingyan jerked her chin toward the now-empty training field. “Out there with Deng Rouhuan. That was noticeably more intense than a friendly spar. What happened?”

Liu Qingge reached for her hand, gently removing it from his sleeve and then patting it in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. “He said some things that made me angry,” he told her, in some semblance of truth.

Mingyan looked troubled by this, her brow furrowing deeply as she frowned. “What did he say?”

“Don’t worry about it, Mingyan,” Liu Qingge said, shaking his head and reaching out to smooth his thumb over her brow. “I took care of it.”

She looked as though she wanted to press the issue and argue with him. He released her hand in favor of gripping her by the shoulders and turning her toward the archway where Li Jun still stood. Their uncle’s back was just disappearing through the entranceway. Liu Qingge gave his sister a little push. “Go on,” he said. “I’ll catch up. I need to speak to my disciple.”

“Qingge--” Liu Mingyan protested even as her feet carried her forward. She glared at him over her shoulder.

“Go,” he said again, shooing her along. She huffed but acquiesced. Liu Qingge shook his head as he watched her go for a moment. His little sister was nearly as stubborn as he was; he doubted this was the last he would hear on the matter. He turned to his disciple then.

Yang Yixuan was finished making himself as presentable as he could be after hours spent training. His robes were in order but they were dusty and his hair was in sore need of brushing. Still, Liu Qingge knew his grandparents wouldn’t judge the young man by his appearance, especially when said appearance was the result of training. They would find it more respectable than anything. Yang Yixuan was looking at him with a curious expression. “You wanted to speak to me, Shizun?”

Liu Qingge stepped closer to the young man so he could lower his voice. “Has Deng Rouhuan been…acting strange around you?” He cringed internally, at his clumsy wording. He just didn’t quite know how to say this, to ask what he needed to know, with any amount of tact.

Yang Yixuan looked confused. “Strange?”

Liu Qingge gestured helplessly. “Yes, as in has he done or said anything inappropriate?” His cheeks heated as he spoke and he found himself wanting to look anywhere but at his disciple. He forced himself to hold the young man’s gaze.

“No?” Yang Yixuan replied questioningly, his expression turning uncertain as he obviously thought back over their interactions throughout the day. “I don’t think so. Nothing comes to mind. Why are you asking, Shizun?”

Liu Qingge very nearly sagged in relief. He trusted Yang Yixuan to tell him the truth if there had actually been an incident so the fact he was hearing a denial made him too grateful for words for several long moments. Finally, he gathered himself enough to say, “Listen to me. I don’t want you to be alone with him, alright? If he tries to get you alone, please come find me or literally anyone else.”

“Shizun?” Yang Yixuan was looking both confused and alarmed now. “Why are you scared?”

That made Liu Qingge pause. He could only imagine his expression reflected all of his anxiety and stress. Was he scared? Yes, he supposed he was, scared for his disciple’s wellbeing and safety, despite the fact that Yang Yixuan wasn’t helpless or defenseless by any means. But all he could think of was the way he hadn’t been helpless or defenseless either, and it hadn’t saved him. “Just promise me!” he barked, more gruffly than he’d intended, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

Looking bewildered, Yang Yixuan nodded. “Okay, Shizun. Promise.”

“Good. Now get going,” Liu Qingge jerked his chin in the direction of the entranceway. Yang Yixuan ducked his head in acknowledgment and scampered off. Liu Qingge remained where he was long enough for him to take a few deep steadying breaths, staving off the looming crush of panic, before he too turned and followed along in the wake of his family.

Li Jun was still waiting under the archway. As Liu Qingge approached, the old man eyed him closely. Liu Qingge looked back steadily.

“What?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

Li Jun offered him a lopsided grin. “I caught the end of your sparring with Master Deng. Good on you for giving him a whooping.”

Liu Qingge chuckled quietly. “He’s a guest. Maybe I should have gone easier on him.”

“Nonsense.” Li Jun tapped his walking stick in the dirt, his lips twisting briefly into a scowl. “I’ve never much cared for that pompous ass, always putting on airs and acting like his shit doesn’t stink. That man’s energy is not good.”

“I would tend to agree,” Liu Qingge replied, his own lips trying to curve into an amused smile even as the rest of his face twitched with disgust. “You do have a way with words, gong-gong.”

“You have your sword, I have my words,” Li Jun huffed but his eyes twinkled. He motioned with his cane. “Step quickly, son. Your grandmother will be yelling for you if you don’t hurry.”

The old man wasn’t wrong; Wu Mei wasn’t afraid to raise a ruckus. Liu Qingge nodded to Li Jun and hurried on, a strange mix of nervous energy leftover from his sparring with Deng Rouhuan and eagerness to see his grandparents putting swiftness into his steps.

When he reached the main courtyard, his grandparents were already there, greeting the rest of the family in a flurry of smiles, laughter, and tight embraces. Excited voices filled the air as a gentle breeze stirred the ancestral willow's draping leaves as if it too were taking part in the reunion. Liu Qingge saw that the commotion had drawn Shen Quingiu and Luo Binghe to the scene, as well; they were apparently being introduced to his grandfather by his mother. He paused for a brief moment to take in the whole thing, the chaos and warmth of his family and others closest to him. It felt like a much-needed balm on his sore heart.

Yang Yixuan was bowing deeply to Wu Mei, Liu Qingge saw as he drew closer. His grandmother was eyeing the young man thoughtfully, taking in his posture and bearing, his Bai Zhan robes. Beside Yang Yixuan, Zhang Liling was speaking, no doubt explaining Yang Yixuan's presence. When the disciple straightened, Wu Mei stepped close enough to take his chin between her fingers, studying his face closely.

"How old are you?" she questioned in what Liu Qingge instantly knew was a faux-serious tone.

"I-I'm nineteen, ma'am," Yang Yixuan stammered, his eyes wide at the scrutiny.

"Nai-Nai, don't scare the boy!" Liu Qingge said with a little chuckle. He was only a handful of steps away now.

Wu Mei lifted her dark eyes to see her grandson approaching and she smiled brilliantly, releasing Yang Yixuan. "I was just about to start yelling for you!" she exclaimed theatrically, motioning toward Yang Yixuan. "Liling says this is your disciple but are you certain he's not your son? Where have you been hiding him?!"

Yang Yixuan choked. Zhang Liling sighed. She patted the disciple comfortingly on the arm. "He's Qingge's student, not his son!" she said emphatically.

"Auntie is right," Liu Qingge agreed with a laugh, opening his arms to embrace his grandmother. "Yang Yixuan is my head disciple."

Wu Mei returned his embrace, kissing his cheeks before squishing them in her hands, looking at her grandson fondly. "Could have fooled me," she said with a smile, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "He carries himself like you. He looks a lot like you too. Must be the ponytail."

Liu Qingge knew he was blushing. "Sorry I don't have a grandchild to present to you, Nai-Nai."

She scoffed, patting his cheek. "Nonsense. I'm just teasing you. I know you're a busy man. But it's obvious you've put much effort into his training or he wouldn't have picked up your mannerisms and aura." She turned to Yang Yixuan then, and swiftly drew him into a hug, chuckling at his bewildered expression. "You handle yourself well in strange situations," she told him when she pulled back. "Cool as can be, just like my Qingge."

"Th-thank you," the disciple said, still looking confused. This was certainly a different sort of greeting than he'd had from Zhang Liling and Chen Mingzhu, who had complimented him and fussed over him right away. Wu Mei had used him to tease his master. Liu Qingge didn't blame Yang Yixuan for being unsure of what to make of it all. His grandmother's offbeat humor often startled those unfamiliar with it.

Liu Qingge huffed in good-natured exasperation, shaking his head, though his lips curled in a little smile. "All that to say you're impressed by my disciple."

Wu Mei laughed. She wore a single wooden hair stick in her twisted updo, the shiny silver baubles hanging from the end of the stick swaying and tinkling with her movements. Her hair was just faintly beginning to gray at the temples. "I am impressed," she said then, finally blunt. "I'm pleased you've brought him along. I had heard good things about him from your sister’s letters."

"Yang Yixuan is very competent," Liu Qingge said, watching as Zhang Liling drew Yang Yixuan away to be introduced to his grandfather. "I probably should have left him in charge of my peak but here we are. If Bai Zhan is burnt to the ground when we return, so be it."

“Oh, I doubt such will be the case,” Wu Mei said jovially, grinning. “Surely he isn’t the only competent student on your peak. I know you don’t suffer fools lightly. Either way, it is good to see you! It’s been so long.”

Liu Qingge found himself apologizing again for his protracted absence from family visits; it was nearly a reflex at this point. His grandmother hushed him and hugged him again, tightly. “You don’t need to explain yourself,” she murmured, smoothing a hand down his ponytail gently. “I know you’ve had a time of it. If there’s anything you wish to speak of, know that I am here to listen.” Liu Qingge could only nod before his grandfather was interrupting them, holding his arms out and crowing about needing a hug too. Wu Mei laughed brightly and released him into his grandfather’s embrace.

Liu Yiming crushed Liu Qingge in his arms the same way he always had, despite the fact that Liu Qingge was a grown man, lifting him off the ground for a moment in his exuberance. They had long since dispensed with any formalities in their relationship a couple of decades ago; Liu Qingge couldn’t recall the last time he’d bowed to his grandfather. That had been a solemn action reserved for his father and occasionally, his uncle. Yiming had once said, ‘I’m not your father, so please don’t treat me like I am.’ Instead, Liu Qingge had long shared a fun-loving and carefree relationship with Liu Yiming.

“My strapping lad, you’re looking fine today!” Liu Yiming said brightly when they stepped back from each other. He grinned widely, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He squeezed his grandson’s shoulder. Yiming was a tall man, his spine straight and carriage proud despite his years. His black locks were still long, half-twisted up into a sturdy metal hair crown, faint silver streaks running back from his hairline. “It’s lovely to see you.”

“I missed everyone, YeYe,” Liu Qingge replied with a little smile. “It’s good to be home.” It wasn’t a lie; it was just unfortunate that Deng Rouhuan was present too. He was the only notable exception. The errant thought of the man gave Liu Qingge pause. He cast a furtive glance around the courtyard, wondering where the man had gone. It only took a moment to spot him on the other side of the gathering, apparently chatting with Liu Qingge’s parents and uncle. As if he could feel Liu Qingge’s gaze on him, Deng Rouhuan glanced up. Their eyes met for a moment, Deng Rouhuan’s brows lifting infinitesimally in a questioning, interested expression. Liu Qingge scowled and looked away, crossing his arms and shifting uncomfortably. The last thing he needed was for the bastard to get the wrong idea. No doubt looking for too long would indeed do that; that’s how it happened before.

Liu Yiming was peering at Qingge curiously. “All good?” he asked, no doubt noticing the younger man’s sudden shift in demeanor.

“Yeah, fine,” Liu Qingge huffed, forcing himself to relax. “Deng Rouhuan just annoys me.”

His grandfather snorted. “He is rather pretentious,” he said by way of agreement.

“That’s one way of putting it,” Liu Qingge muttered.

Yiming looped an arm around Liu Qingge’s shoulders and drew him toward the main hall, where the rest of the gathering had begun drifting. “Don’t mind him. Sit by me at supper? I want to hear all about the adventures you’ve been on recently.”

It was easy enough to agree. It was however unfortunate that the seating arrangement put him far too close to Deng Rouhuan for comfort. Liu Qingge spent the entirety of the meal steadfastly ignoring the man, refusing even to look in his direction. He stayed up late into the night with everyone this time, sipping a cup of rice wine and interjecting occasionally into the conversation. But he mostly sat quietly and soaked in the lively atmosphere, the laughter and clinking cups, and the crackling brazier. This was surely what Mu Qingfang had in mind when he’d told Liu Qingge to take some time off. It was what Liu Qingge had been hoping for when he’d allowed himself to imagine a satisfying homecoming.

When he fell into bed in the wee hours of the morning, his heart was content in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. Though his day had started with difficulty, it had ended well enough, and that was something to be thankful for.

Chapter 10

Notes:

A quick turnaround on an update this time! This chapter is a bit shorter but...it packs a punch. RIP Qingge :/ (Not literally, no one is dying!)

Scream about the injustices in the comments! I look forward to seeing you all there.

Also for anyone curious, come find me on Twitter: cookykrumbles97

Liu Qingge woke up the next morning to a soft rain pattering the tile roof. The light was soft and gray this early. Aside from the raindrops, the world seemed hushed and muted, peaceful. He allowed himself to lay in bed for a while, listening and just breathing, merely existing, his mind empty. As a child, he'd disliked rainy days but as an adult, he'd come to appreciate them for their mellow quality, a gift of respite from nature.

Finally, he rose, shivering at the touch of the cold floor on his bare feet. He dressed hurriedly and fixed his hair, studying his reflection in the mirror for a long moment, thinking he appeared more well-rested than he had in a long while, despite the draining events of the previous day. He had slept hard after the emotional toll. But he still noticed the pull of slight stiffness in his shoulders and back; he swallowed down a painkiller just to be on the safe side.

When he slipped out onto the porch, the first person he saw was his disciple. Yang Yixuan was quietly closing his door behind himself and smiled when he saw Liu Qingge.

"Good morning, Shizun. How are you feeling?"

Liu Qingge rotated his left shoulder, grimacing a bit at the stab of soreness. "Not bad. A little stiff. I'll be fine."

Yang Yixuan nodded and took him at his word. He peered out at the rain steadily soaking the courtyard. "No training today, I guess." He sounded sorrowful.

Liu Qingge couldn't help but smile. "Not unless you want to get absolutely covered in muck."

"You always say it's good to train in varied conditions, though," Yang Yixuan pouted. Back at the sect, Liu Qingge often made the disciples spar and perform other physical training in all sorts of weather, letting them slip and slide in the mud or snow, get soaked to the bone in the rain, and drip in sweat in the summer heat. He was fond of saying that combat didn’t care about the weather. But here at Willow Manor, he felt like they could cut corners just a little. They were supposed to be on vacation, after all.

"And that's true but we're not at Bai Zhan," Liu Qingge said, clapping the young man on the shoulder. "It's fine to take a break while we're here. You trained for hours yesterday." Yang Yixuan hummed in agreement. Liu Qingge continued, steering his disciple along the length of the porch so they didn't have to walk in the rain. "Let's head to breakfast and then if you're still so eager to spar, maybe we can clear some space in the main hall for it before the banquet preparations start." It would only be partnered sword forms so as to avoid damage to the building but it would be something to help the boy burn off some energy.

Yang Yixuan's grin was bright. "Okay, Shizun!"

Liu Qingge shook his head fondly. His disciple had so much energy that he feared the day would come when he could no longer keep up. He supposed at that point, he would just have to let the boy defeat him and take over leadership of Bai Zhan.

They bumped into Liu Jinhai at the doors of the main hall. He graced them with a bright smile and held the door so they could slip inside. Jinhai elbowed his cousin as the door swung shut behind them and they began making their way down to the breakfast table, where everyone was already gathered with the exception of Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe. Not surprising, considering Shen Qingqiu wasn’t a fan of early mornings. “Cousin, are you looking forward to the hunt this morning? I hope you’ve kept up on your archery skills!”

Liu Qingge had honestly forgotten about the traditional banquet hunt that the clan went on the morning of the first formal banquet. It was the way the Liu clan had marked the official beginning of their Mid-Autumn Festival for generations. Whatever they brought back from the hunt would be prepared and served at the banquet that evening. In years past, the hunt had turned into a friendly but fierce competition between Liu Qingge and Liu Jinhai and sometimes between their elders, as well. Liu Qingge snorted. “Of course, I’ve kept up my archery skills. Have you?”

Liu Jinhai laughed and shrugged nonchalantly, flicking his braid over his shoulder. “As much as I ever have.” He narrowed his eyes at Liu Qingge teasingly. “Are we going to compete like we always have?”

It was Liu Qingge’s turn to shrug carelessly. “I guess if you want to keep losing…”

“Aiyah!” Jinhai bumped his shoulder hard enough to make him stumble a bit. “You shouldn’t underestimate your opponent, Qingge, it’s bad form!”

The two of them bickered good-naturedly all the way to the table and even after they’d sat down next to each other. Yang Yixuan sat on his master’s other side, listening to the banter with a little smile. Across from Liu Qingge, Mingyan arched her brows in fond exasperation as she sipped her tea. Eventually, Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe arrived, taking seats nearby just as the bowls of food began to make their way around the table. Liu Qingge took them both in with a glance, feeling his breath catch in his throat. They’d both dressed down today; someone must have informed them of the hunt, so they’d dressed appropriately in simple robes and unfussy hair ornaments. Regardless of the lack of finery, they both looked striking. Shen Qingqiu still cut an elegant figure akin to one of a traveling scholar; Liu Qingge’s eyes caught on the pale column of the man’s throat, jade white against the dark green of his robes. Beside him, Luo Binghe could have been a mercenary or bodyguard in service to the scholar, his shoulders still impressively broad even in pared-down black and gray fabric.

Liu Qingge realized that Luo Binghe was watching him and instantly felt himself flush. The demon lord cocked his head to the side slightly, the corners of his lips curling in a small but genuine smile. He looked much more put together than he had yesterday, all traces of the tears that had gathered in his eyes long gone. Instead, those eyes now looked at Liu Qingge with an unaccountable fondness, sparkling brilliantly. Liu Qingge found himself staring right back, unable to look away until Jinhai nudged him to pass over the serving bowl in his hands. Liu Qingge took the bowl, a bit breathless, his ears burning.

He’d never been so flustered by Luo Binghe’s attention. It was a marked difference from the anger and hostility that had permeated their interactions in times past but he found he didn’t hate this.

After breakfast, the clan gathered their weapons and met at the stables, where the servants already had horses saddled and ready for them. Fortuitously, the rain had stopped during breakfast, though the slate gray skies promised more later in the day. In the meantime, everything was wet and mucky. Liu Qingge securely stowed the bow and quiver he’d gotten from the armory on his back and swung up onto a tall, black gelding. On the horse next to him, Yang Yixuan was beaming and nearly bouncing in excitement.

“This is even better than sparring, Shizun!” the young man exclaimed with a grin. “It’s been a long time since we’ve been hunting.”

Liu Qingge snorted a laugh. “Just remember this hunt is for food--so kills are limited to typical game animals. You don’t need to bring down the biggest stag in the forest. The rules of the hunt are simple: all kills must be clean and you must dress each kill yourself. If you want to compete in the rankings, all your kills must be completed by only yourself. No aid from anyone else.”

Yang Yixuan nodded smartly. “I understand, Shizun. I’ll definitely compete, though this humble disciple doubts he could best anyone from Shizun’s clan.”

Liu Qingge shook his head fondly. “Don’t sell yourself short. But any and all Liu’s should be considered stiff competition.” Not only were his father, uncle, and cousin present, but his grandfather had joined, as well as the women of the family, who all looked spirited and ready for some competition themselves. Shen Qingqiu, Luo Binghe, and Deng Rouhuan rounded out the party.

They left the grounds of Willow Manor through the rear gate, which opened onto a narrow trail leading away into the treeline just a few dozen meters ahead. The group had to ride single-file along the trail, Liu Qingge falling in just behind his cousin and ahead of his disciple. The forest was thick here, the undergrowth and covering of pine needles and leaves on the ground muffling the noise of their transit, but a hush still fell over the group anyway. No sense in unduly disturbing the wildlife just yet. They rode for the better part of an hour until the trees thinned as the land dipped into a shallow gully. This was known as Flying Fox Run and was where camp would be made for the duration of the hunt. There were places to tether the horses and crude racks to hang fresh kills from to drain the blood, as well as several stone slabs where field dressing could be performed. The rise in the land on either side provided some cover from the elements and kept their scents somewhat out of the wind depending on which direction it was blowing from.

Liu Yichen addressed the group. “We’ll set up here and get to the hunting as quickly as possible before the rain starts again. Just kill what you can; no quotas this year!”

Liu Qingge wished his disciple luck and set off into the undergrowth to the south, his steps light and near silent. Behind him, he could hear the faint sounds of the others scattering into the forest in all directions. He ducked around tree trunks and hopped over a narrow stream, scanning for signs of game. These woods were full of rabbits, foxes, stags, and other game animals, as well as their predators. He was hoping to catch a few rabbits, perhaps a pheasant or two. He honestly didn’t care much about the competition this time; it was enough to simply be in nature and have the ritual of the hunt to calm his mind.

When signs began to show of a rabbit burrow nearby, Liu Qingge paused and lifted the bow from his back and an arrow from his quiver. Nocking the arrow, he moved on till he spotted the burrow itself. He settled behind some thick undergrowth to wait. Perhaps an incense time passed before he saw the first rabbit. It was a simple matter to raise the bow and draw it, the string creaking faintly, and take his shot. The arrow flew true and just like that, Liu Qingge had his first kill of the day.

He left his cover to retrieve first the arrow, which he wiped clean on a rag tied to his belt, and then the dead rabbit, lifting it up by its hind legs. He murmured a small prayer to the animal’s spirit, thanking it for its sacrifice, a custom he’d been taught at a young age. His father had always told him to respect the forest and its inhabitants, and when he took a life to be grateful and humble. It was an admonishment he always followed when hunting even now; the only exceptions were the demonic beasts he slew because they were a true menace. Most other creatures were just acting as instinct dictated and weren’t evil. He was stowing the rabbit in his qiankun pouch when his alert ears caught nearby footfalls headed his way. He looked up quickly and spotted the figure of Deng Rouhuan unfortunately headed toward him.

Liu Qingge scowled. “What do you want?” He kept his voice down but it was impossible to keep the disdain out of his tone.

“Congratulations on your first kill,” Deng Rouhuan replied with a little jerk of his chin toward the burrow. He was clutching a pheasant by its tailfeathers in one hand. Liu Qingge grunted but said nothing. Deng Rouhuan continued, “I bumped into your disciple a bit ago. He dropped a deer already.” The man whistled lowly and shook his head with a chuckle. “An overachiever, your disciple. Just like you at that age.”

Liu Qingge immediately bristled, even as he felt a stab of pride; if anyone would manage to bring down a deer within the first sichen of the hunt, it would be Yang Yixuan. “I told you to stay away from him,” he hissed, narrowing his eyes at the other man.

Deng Rouhuan looked unconcerned as if he considered the threat of Liu Qingge’s violence nothing but empty words and hot air. “I happened by and he asked for assistance getting the beast back to camp. What was I supposed to do, just walk away after he asked?” He clicked his tongue, cocking his head to the side. “Qingge, Qingge. Even you must know that’s just bad manners.”

Liu Qingge’s fist curled tighter around his bow and the wood creaked under the strain. He had asked Yang Yixuan to mind Deng Rouhuan’s whereabouts just the previous afternoon and to not allow himself to be alone with the man. He had a hard time believing his disciple would so readily disobey his request, and so soon after giving his word. Yang Yixuan wasn’t like that or he wouldn’t have gotten far as Bai Zhan’s top disciple. But would the scenario with the deer be a situation Yang Yixuan thought of as extenuating circumstances? On the other hand, what if Deng Rouhuan was lying? If he was, why?

“I promise on my sword that I’ll stay away from your disciple if you do something for me,” Deng Rouhuan said then, his lips curling upward into a mocking smile.

Liu Qingge’s mouth tasted like ash as he snapped, “What?”

Deng Rouhuan’s smile grew into an open grin. “Agree to marry me.”

Liu Qingge’s mouth dropped open. The audacity of this man! “W-what?!” he spluttered. “You can’t be fucking serious! Why the fuck would I do that after everything you did!”

“To protect someone you love,” Deng Rouhuan commented casually. His gaze was knowing, never wavering from Liu Qingge’s face.

“And what’s to stop me from killing you right fucking here and now?” Liu Qingge demanded. His nails bit into his palm as he tightened his fist; the knuckles of his other hand were white around the bow.

“Surely you wouldn’t want to have to explain to your dear parents why you killed me, and in cold blood, no less.” Deng Rouhuan clicked his tongue again, shaking his head. He looked amused. Liu Qingge had never wanted to punch anyone more. “Aren’t you supposed to be a righteous cultivator? Isn’t your reputation already in tatters?”

Liu Qingge’s throat burned with rage. When he spoke, the words came out strained with it. “So, you’re trying to say I should marry you to prevent you from preying on my disciple and not just kill you because you think I’m afraid of what you did to me being exposed?”

“Oh, I don’t think you’re afraid, Qingge,” Deng Rouhuan said in a quieter tone, stepping closer. “I know. Or you would have exposed me years ago.” Liu Qingge swallowed, his throat dry. He hated that he couldn’t even deny it. Deng Rouhuan took another step. Liu Qingge took one back. “You won’t kill me,” Deng Rouhuan continued confidently. “You desperately don’t want to have to answer all the questions that would follow. But you’re also a good person and you won’t leave your disciple unprotected. So where does that leave you?”

“You absolute fucker.” The words came out in a whisper, indignant but void of the rage Liu Qingge had felt only moments ago. Its burn had drained away as Deng Rouhuan flayed his insecurities wide open ruthlessly in just a matter of a few sentences. He thought wildly about the dagger in his belt, about driving it deep into the man’s heart, about taking his revenge or justice, whichever it would truly end up being. It was so tempting. But then he thought of the questions, the stares, the pitying words, that would surely follow and barely suppressed a shudder. Just the thought was enough to make him want to curl up and die of shame.

Deng Rouhuan could apparently see him coming to this conclusion as he watched Liu Qingge’s face. He nodded smartly. “There you go. You understand your position now.”

Liu Qingge sighed shakily. His whole body was trembling. “You just want access to the family money, don’t you?” he accused in a faintly wavering tone.

Deng Rouhuan smirked. “So what if I do? Does it matter when you can’t do anything about it?” He moved even closer and Liu Qingge retreated until his back hit a tree trunk, surprising a gasp out of him. Deng Rouhuan pressed close, his arm coming up to lean against the broad bark beside Liu Qingge’s head. “Really, I’m doing you a favor, Qingge. You’re closer to forty than not and what other marriage prospects do you have? Eventually, your father will step down from his position as clan leader, and who will take over in your stead? This way I can be your regent here and you don’t even have to give up your sect. Isn’t that a win-win for both of us?”

Liu Qingge trembled against the tree, unable to reply to say that there had long been a plan in place to put Jinhai in as regent at Willow Manor so Liu Qingge could stay at Bai Zhan when his father stepped down. Deng Rouhuan’s proximity brought back the feeling of helplessness he’d felt twenty years prior, the disgust, the shame, the fear. His tongue felt useless and thick in his mouth and he could barely breathe.

Deng Rouhuan gazed down at him with something like disgust twisting his features. “Who would have thought that the War God had such chinks in his armor? You’re pathetic.” He pushed away from the tree, slinging his pheasant over his shoulder as he strode away toward the north and the hunting camp. “Glad we could come to an agreement, Qingge.” With that, the man disappeared into the undergrowth.

Liu Qingge’s knees buckled and he slid to the ground, frantically trying to catch his breath. He flung his bow away and scrambled to get the quiver off his back, the strap across his chest too restricting at that moment. He squeezed his eyes shut and dug the heels of his palms into them, leaning back against the tree as he gasped for a full breath. He thought of the way Yang Yixuan had calmed his panic the first evening at the manor, his steadying presence. The memory helped and slowly his breathing evened and deepened though his entire body continued to shake like a leaf in a storm. He felt as fragile and brittle as a dry leaf, as if one touch would shatter him into a million fragments. He was immensely grateful no one else was around to witness his weakness.

Deng Rouhuan was right about several things: Liu Qingge was deathly afraid of having to tell his family the truth about what had happened many years ago, and he would do anything to protect Yang Yixuan. Wu Mei had likened his disciple to his son and she wasn’t far off. Somewhere along the way, Liu Qingge had grown immensely fond of the young man. Yang Yixuan had become such a fixture in his daily life that he could scarcely imagine his life without his disciple in it. He would do whatever he deemed necessary to ensure Yang Yixuan remained safe. If that meant he had to marry his own abuser, then so be it. Liu Qingge had survived five years of Luo Binghe; he could survive this too.

His mind thus made up and his trembling mostly subsided, Liu Qingge picked himself up off the ground, brushed off his robes, retrieved his weapons, and continued his hunt.

By the time the hunt concluded, Liu Qingge had killed four rabbits and a pheasant, far from his best showings of years past. When Liu Jinhai teased him about it, Liu Qingge only smiled thinly and said that it wasn’t his lucky day.

Chapter 11

Notes:

I've returned with yet another update! Two days after the last one! Holy shit! I have a really busy work week ahead so I'm not sure if there will be another update this week, so please enjoy this one to the max!

Okay. So this is a heftier chapter than the last one and very important. I'm adding a CW for discussions of rape, and like tbh it's over half the chapter. So please read carefully if that's a concern but nothing is explicit.

Also, I had a comment wondering about the meaning of the name of YYX's sword Jia Xue, so here's the answer: I chose the characters meaning 'family' and 'studious' respectively, so it's a play on how YYX is like family to LQG and also a diligent and dedicated student.

As always, all of you lovely readers have absolutely blown me away with your support and passion! I appreciate it immeasurably. Let's keep it up! I'll see ya'll in the comments!

Deng Rouhuan hadn’t been lying. Yang Yixuan really had shot a deer. He and Luo Binghe were all smiles and laughter as they tied the field-dressed carcass across the rump of Yang Yixuan’s horse. The hunting party was preparing to depart Flying Fox Run; overhead the sky was darkening ominously and the breeze had kicked up. Liu Qingge could hear the faintest rumbling of thunder in the distance as he checked that his mount’s saddle was still secure and his bow and quiver lashed to the tack tightly. He hoped they could make it back to Willow Manor before the skies opened up and poured cold autumn rain down on them.

The rain would clean off the bloodstains on the stone slabs in the gully; Liu Qingge found himself wishing it were that simple and easy to wash the shame from his own bones, the conflict from his heart but he was beginning to suspect he would spend the rest of his life tainted with it. Otherwise, Deng Rouhuan wouldn’t be able to manipulate him so easily, make him second guess himself, and get him inside his own head so deeply. Or maybe he was just weak. Pathetic, like the man had said. He frowned deeply as he tugged on the leather straps holding his bow in place against the saddle.

The presence of another person at Liu Qingge’s elbow startled him slightly. He turned his head to find Shen Qingqiu standing there, looking at him with drawn brows and worry in his green eyes. “Don’t sneak up on me like that,” he snapped, more harshly than he’d intended.

Shen Qingqiu was unfazed. “Did something happen while you were hunting, shidi? Your scowl is quite fearsome.”

Liu Jinhai happened to be passing by just behind them, headed for his own horse. He had apparently heard what Shen Qingqiu had said because he paused long enough to say, “Cousin is probably upset because I beat him this year in the rankings.” His tone was playful and light and he obviously meant nothing by the comment other than to tease but Liu Qingge found himself bristling in response before he even really knew what he was doing.

“Shut the fuck up about the rankings, Jinhai!” he hissed, glaring at his cousin. “I don’t give a fuck about them!” He felt like his whole world was imploding so quietly he was the only one aware of it; of fucking course he wouldn’t care about the competition with his relatives!

Liu Jinhai’s brows shot toward his hairline at the same time that Shen Qingqiu’s did. Jinhai’s mouth dropped open. Shen Qingqiu sharply said, “Liu-shidi! That was rude and uncalled for, don’t you think?”

Liu Qingge gritted his teeth, clenching his jaw so tightly that a muscle in it jumped. He closed his eyes briefly, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I’m not mad at you, Jinhai.” There. He’d apologized like a competent adult.

Liu Jinhai was looking bemused, eyeing his cousin with a mixture of wariness and concern. “If you say so, Qingge,” he murmured. “No offense taken.”

Liu Qingge half-turned back to his horse. “May I please have some space?” The words came out tense, his tone tight and strained.

Jinhai shrugged and continued on his way but Shen Qingqiu didn’t budge. He laid a gentle hand on Liu Qingge’s arm lightly, as if he was trying to soothe a spooked horse. “Qingge,” he said softly, and Liu Qingge wished he could enjoy hearing his name on the man’s lips, “Please tell me what’s bothering you?”

“Just an unpleasant run-in with Deng Rouhuan,” Liu Qingge muttered, before reaching for Shen Qingqiu’s hand and carefully removing it from his arm. He allowed himself to cradle those long graceful fingers in his own for several moments; Shen Qingqiu had the hands of a scholar or artist, smooth and pale, while his own were rugged, calloused from using a sword and other weapons, scarred from rough living. They contrasted in a way that Liu Qingge mused could be considered poetic on some level. Or it could be a physical reminder of how different they were, with their diverging lifestyles and philosophies. It made him wonder if they could ever truly fit together in the way his mother had insinuated they might. But he supposed it didn’t matter now, not if he was to marry Deng Rouhuan. He said none of these things, just continued, “Don’t trouble yourself over it.”

Shen Qingqiu was wearing a peculiar expression that Liu Qingge couldn’t readily place. There was a glint in his eyes that looked almost like…suspicion? “If it left you this upset, how could I not be troubled over it?”

Liu Qingge’s heart flip-flopped; would he ever get used to Shen Qingqiu showing him any measure of care or affection? He made an effort to school his expression into something more pleasant. “It’s fine, Shen Qingqiu. We should get moving before it starts raining.” He released the other man’s hand somewhat reluctantly.

Shen Qingqiu appeared as though he wanted to protest or call Liu Qingge’s bluff but in the end said nothing and only sighed. “I suppose so,” he agreed. “I’ll see you later, shidi.” He searched Liu Qingge’s face for another moment before turning to walk away.

Liu Qingge was surprised at how bereft he felt as he watched him go as if Shen Qingqiu was walking out of his life forever right then. He felt guilty for turning Shen Qingqiu’s concern away but this was certainly neither the time nor place to discuss anything remotely related to Deng Rouhuan.

Liu Qingge brought up the rear of the group on the ride home, where no one would notice his bad mood.

The rain held off until Willow Manor was within sight but it still took no time at all for the party to end up drenched. After handing the horses off to the stable hands and dropping off all the game at the kitchens, everyone went their own ways to change out of wet robes and prepare for the evening feast. It was late in the afternoon already and other guests would begin arriving soon after their lengthy journeys from places far outside the Liu clan lands. Liu Qingge knew he would be expected to be presentable and present in the main hall with his parents and sister to greet the new arrivals; he agreed to meet Liu Mingyan at the ancestral tree so they could make their way into the main hall together. He figured he had about a sichen to get ready when he reached his rooms. His first order of business was a bath to chase away the grime of the hunt and the chill of the rain. He scrubbed down quickly and efficiently, not taking the time to enjoy the warm bathwater this time. He did take more time washing his hair, however, rubbing in scented oils and combing them through until his inky black tresses were soft and free of tangles. He thought wryly that his sister would be proud of him since she was always admonishing him to take better care of his hair. When he stepped out of the bath, it only took a quick burst of spiritual energy to dry it. He had neither the time nor patience to let it air dry as he normally did.

Liu Qingge dug out the less ornate set of formal robes he’d packed, thinking that the fancier ones might be a little too much even for a formal banquet. It wasn’t like he was meeting the emperor, after all. He slipped into the inner robes and then paused. Perhaps he ought to do his hair before putting on the outer robe with its long draping sleeves, which would certainly make the task twice as difficult. He wasn’t used to all that extra fabric the way Shen Qingqiu undoubtedly was.

Liu Qingge sat in front of his mirror on the low stool there, bringing his comb with him. The hair crown meant to go with these robes sat innocuously on the table, ready for use. It was much more intricate than anything he wore day to day, with a long fastening stick carved with elegant swirls on the end and a trio of dangling polished wooden beads on delicate chains. The hair crown itself was silver and carved with the willow motif of the clan, the draping leaves of the tree embedded with dozens of tiny peridots. He’d always been extremely careful not to damage the crown or dislodge any of the gems. It had been a gift from his grandmother upon his accession to his position as Bai Zhan’s peak lord, so he always handled it carefully. Now he sat and stared at it, wondering if he was worthy of wearing it.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there without moving but it must have been a while because eventually, a tapping sounded at his door. Liu Qingge twitched in surprise, prompted into shifting on the stool as he suddenly realized his backside was beginning to go numb. He cleared his throat and called for whoever was there to enter, his voice a little hoarse.

"Brother? You're not ready yet?" Liu Mingyan asked softly, surprise coloring her voice. Her tone was gentle but he still felt instantly guilty for keeping her waiting. She stepped through the front room, lingering near the threshold of his bedroom as she no doubt took in his frozen posture and the robes draped out on his bed. A moment later, she came closer to where he was seated in front of the mirror.

Liu Qingge startled a bit, glancing at her and then shaking his head. His hands twitched in his lap but he didn't move to finish his preparations.

Mingyan's reflection appeared behind him in the mirror. She looked as put together as always, her hair intricately braided and pinned for the occasion. She wore eye makeup that highlighted the warm sparks of honey in her irises. "Let me help?" she asked gently. He nodded wordlessly, and she reached past him for his wooden comb.

Silence fell as she worked a few small tangles from his long hair. Liu Qingge sat quietly, taking comfort in his sister's presence. After a while, his eyes started to grow heavy and his shoulders finally relaxed. She continued to comb his hair long after the tangles were gone, and he suspected it was because she knew he found it soothing. After what seemed a long time, she put the comb aside and separated small sections of his tresses, holding them carefully in her fingers. She began braiding them backward along his skull from his hairline. Still, she didn't speak.

Once there were four small braids, two on each side, she gathered them in her hands with the rest of his hair, sweeping it all up into his trademark ponytail. She secured it in place with the hair crown he handed up to her, sliding the pin through carefully so it wouldn't pull. Her fingertips brushed reverently over the weeping willow branches and their bright green gemstones for a moment before moving away.

Liu Mingyan's hands smoothed her brother's hair lightly before her fingers trailed through the loose ends of the ponytail, freeing the small snarls created during the styling. Finally, she broke the long quiet.

"Qingge, what's been going on with you lately?"

He sighed, closing his eyes. "I'd rather not talk about it, Mingyan."

She let out a quiet huff of consternation. "That's exactly the problem. You won't talk to anyone." Her voice dropped even softer, now sounding a bit sad. "Not even me. Don't you trust me?"

Liu Qingge turned on his stool to face her, his hair swinging out of her fingers. He took her hands in his instead, squeezing gently. "I do trust you. Mingyan, I'd trust you with my life."

Her eyes widened at the sincerity in his own. Her lower lip pushed into a pout. "But then, why…?"

"I don't want you to think differently about me," he blurted, shocked at himself as the words tumbled out of his mouth.

Her brow furrowed, a pained expression crossing her features as if the very idea he could think that she might was distressing. "I wouldn't!" she protested. "You've always been my hero, and you always will be."

Liu Qingge's lips twitched up at one corner. He squeezed her fingers again before releasing them, rubbing his palms over his own knees. "That's exactly why. I'm your big brother. I don't want to ruin that for you."

His sister puffed up with a jolt of indignation. "Qingge, whatever you're going through, you shouldn't have to deal with it alone," she said forcefully, fiercely. Her eyes flashed with conviction. Ah, his baby sister really had grown into a strong and striking woman, hadn't she? "What could you ruin by telling me the truth? Your reputation? Your image as Bai Zhan's War God, aloof and untouchable?" She held his gaze for a moment before she softened, reaching out with both hands to cup his cheeks. "That might be part of who you are, but that's not the brother I know best and love the most. My big brother played with me in the garden on sunny afternoons. He let me win every time we played hide and seek. He taught me to ride and shoot a bow. He took me on my first night hunt. He's always been gentle and kind and loving. So if you think that's what you'll ruin by telling me about your troubles, you're wrong, because you'll always be that big brother to me."

Liu Qingge's eyes were wide, and to his shock and embarrassment, rapidly clouding with tears. "Mingyan, I--"

"I've relied on you my whole life," she murmured. "You can rely on me now."

Liu Qingge squeezed his eyes shut for a moment as he fought with his tattered pride and the tears threatening to spill over. Would it really be so bad to finally fully confide in someone? To be able to set down his burdens for a while? To trust his sister with his secrets? He had thought not all that long ago that eventually, he would have to regardless. He remembered Mu Qingfang saying don't you think she'd take it better from you? He knew that was true; if Mingyan learned about any of the things he was keeping from her from someone else, she would rightfully be angry at him, and more than that, hurt. He couldn't bear the thought of hurting her.

He reached up and laid his hands atop hers, drawing them off of his cheeks as he opened his eyes to look up at her. "Have a seat, Mingyan," he said softly, squeezing her hands before letting go of them. "This could take a while."

Her face reflected a myriad of emotions, flickering from surprise to relief to shock to gratitude. She nodded once and turned to draw the other nearby unoccupied stool closer, seating herself on it quickly but elegantly. She reached for his hand again, and he let her take it, cradling it between both of hers in her lap, her fingertips stroking his scarred knuckles. They were so close together their knees bumped. She sat quietly and waited for him to gather his thoughts.

There were long minutes of silence. Liu Qingge swallowed thickly several times before he managed to speak, his voice unsteady. "You should know that I've never told any of what I'm about to say to anyone else before this. Ever. It's a secret I've lived with since I was seventeen."

Liu Mingyan nodded but remained quiet, though her eyes studied him with a tinge of sadness.

He wasn't sure how to say what needed to be said, so he forged ahead without giving himself time to overthink it. "Deng Rouhuan raped me the winter I turned seventeen."

There was a beat of shocked silence, during which Liu Qingge could barely believe he'd said the words out loud, followed by a sharp inhale from Mingyan. Her fingers tightened around his.

"What?" she breathed.

Now that the most intimate part of it was out there, in the air between them, Liu Qingge found it easier to continue, and his voice steadied a bit as he spoke. "He had been paying me special attention for months beforehand, taking time to spar with me, plying me with gifts. A beautiful dagger he happened across in his travels. A new hair crown. Other jewelry." He willed his sister to understand what he wasn't saying out loud, that Deng Rouhuan had taken advantage of his youth and inexperience, and had put him in a situation he hadn't fully understood until it was too late.

Liu Mingyan made a wounded noise. "The earrings," she whispered, closing her eyes. "That's why you were upset about the earrings the other day. Why you quit wearing them when you were seventeen."

He let out a shaky breath. "Yes," he agreed, gripping her hand tighter. His other one had balled into a fist on his knee. "The earrings reminded me of him. And I figured he would be here for the festival; I had gotten word just before we left Cang Qiong that he was seen traveling toward our clan's territory."

"And you still came?" Mingyan opened her eyes to look at him, her brows furrowed.

Liu Qingge lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. "I knew if I didn't, I'd have to have some believable explanation for not visiting yet again. I thought I could just stay away from him and it would be fine."

"Qingge." His sister's voice cracked when she said his name. "You've been suffering this whole time and I had no idea. I'm so sorry."

He shook his head and tried to muster a smile for her. "It's not your fault. I chose to keep this to myself."

“Still.” There were several long moments of silence as his sister seemed to attempt to process everything he’d said so far. Finally, she swallowed dryly and asked quietly, "When was the last time you saw him?"

"Up until the other day, I hadn't seen him in over ten years," Liu Qingge murmured, looking down at their joined hands. He forced his curled hand to loosen, laying it atop Mingyan's. He wasn't sure who was trying to comfort whom. "I hate how I feel when I see him," he whispered, keeping his gaze down. "I remember what it felt like when he…forced himself on me. I can still taste that fear and helplessness. I hate that so much." He sighed. "Deng Rouhuan was one reason why I've been so focused on my cultivation, on being the strongest I can possibly be. So no one can take advantage of me like that ever again."

It was one of his most closely guarded truths. Over the years, he hadn't bothered to correct the people who assumed he was simply amassing power for no other reason than that he could. He was a naturally gifted cultivator and warrior, after all. And he had never met anyone who could match him in battle, up until Luo Binghe soundly defeated him every day for five years. Liu Qingge's sense of security in the world had been more shaken by that than he liked to admit. There were still threats in the world, still people who could harm him, and take advantage of him.

"Why didn't you tell Mother and Father about what happened?" Mingyan asked tentatively. She looked almost afraid to ask as if he might become angry at the question, even though it was a fair one.

"I pawned all the earrings he gave me after," Liu Qingge murmured, sighing. "When Father noticed I wasn't wearing them anymore, he said he was proud of me for putting off silly baubles and taking my cultivation seriously." He had to pause, swallow down the lump in his throat even as his eyes stung with fresh tears again. He knew his father hadn't meant anything by it; after all, how could he have known that his son had been freshly raped mere days prior? But the comment had hurt nonetheless. "I knew then that I'd never be able to tell him or Mother the truth. They would have been so ashamed of me, to know the real reason I'd gotten rid of all those baubles was because they were gifts from the man who'd raped me."

Liu Mingyan sniffled. "They wouldn't have been ashamed of you," she insisted wetly, obviously holding onto her composure by a thread. "They could never be. You're their son, their firstborn. They adore you."

Liu Qingge was shaking his head, only half aware that his tears had spilled over and were making their way down his burning cheeks in glistening rivulets. "How could I tell them? It would have brought shame to the family. I couldn't disappoint them like that. I still can't."

His breath hitched on a sob and he raised a hand to cover his mouth, desperate to not shake apart right there. Mingyan pulled him into her arms a moment later, guiding his head down to her shoulder, fingers gentle in his hair. Giving him a place to hide. He buried his face at the base of her neck and proceeded to let himself weep, to sob like he hadn't in years. Maybe not since the day he'd been assaulted all those years ago, or perhaps not since Shen Qingqiu’s “death.”. He wept as though his heart was broken. Mingyan rested her cheek atop his head, a hand stroking down his back soothingly, gently rocking them as she let him cry and tremble in her embrace.

It was the first time he'd ever cried in front of her.

After what seemed like ages, his sobs finally quieted. His breathing calmed from desperate gasps into not-quite-evened-out huffs. He didn't move for several more minutes, not ready just yet to look her in the eyes after such an emotional outburst. Mingyan seemed content to stay as they were, holding him and running her fingers through his ponytail. This was easily one of the times they'd been most tactile with one another since Mingyan was a small child and he had hugged her often and carried her around on his hip.

Finally, he sat back and she let him go, but kept her hands loose and open in her lap, ready to give comfort at a moment's notice. Liu Qingge scrubbed at his eyes almost viciously as he let out a self-conscious chuckle.

"Not much of a War God now, am I? Bet you never thought you'd ever see your big brother cry like this."

Liu Mingyan huffed softly and when he glanced at her, she was smiling gently though her eyes still brimmed with grief. "Nonsense," she declared. "You're human like anyone else and you have feelings like anyone else. It doesn't make you any less of a badass."

Liu Qingge gave a small, watery laugh even as he sniffled. "Thank you, Mingyan. For listening."

She patted his knee. "Of course. Thank you for trusting me."

"Do you understand why I was hesitant to share, though?" he couldn't help asking.

"I guess so," she mused, looking thoughtful. "But if anything, you're even more my hero than before." When she saw him open his mouth to protest, she held up a hand. "You aren't going to change my mind. You are strong on levels I wish you hadn't had to be and others which I can only aspire to. It takes real courage to be this vulnerable."

He shifted, embarrassed. "I feel like I ought to have a better handle on this whole…thing. It's been a long time."

"Qingge, you said you never told another person about what happened before now. Of course, it feels fresh. It doesn't matter how many years it's been." She studied his face for a moment and he resisted the urge to hide from her gentle scrutiny. “How have you managed to cope all these years?”

Liu Qingge raised a shoulder in a sheepish half-shrug, his eyes darting away from hers. “I just did my best to not think about any of it. I could only spend so many nights in tears before I had to raise my chin and keep going.”

Mingyan’s lower lip wobbled as she squeezed her eyes shut again. This time, tears spilled out, a single trail from each eye. Liu Qingge hoped her makeup wouldn’t be ruined. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes to look at him again. “That rat needs to face consequences for what he did to you, Qingge. And you deserve justice. Please tell Mother and Father he’s mistreated you; you don’t even have to tell them details. They’ll take you at your word, you know they will. At the least, they’ll throw him out and forbid him from coming around here again. This is your home and you deserve to feel safe here.”

It sounded tempting, it really did. But there was no guarantee there wouldn’t be questions and wasn’t it suspicious if he just refused to answer all of them? “Father has known Deng Rouhuan since they were boys,” he reminded his sister. “Do you really think he’d believe his oldest friend did something that terrible?”

Mingyan’s eyes remained wet with tears even as her expression morphed into one of frustration. “Yes! He’d believe you because you’re his son and you mean everything to him! Qingge, do you hear yourself? Deng Rouhuan has gotten you too deep in your own head, I think.”

“Even if Father believed me, Deng Rouhuan would deny it all and it would be my word against his,” Liu Qingge insisted, throwing his hands up helplessly. “There would be questions and if I refused to answer them, he would just accuse me of lying or twist it so I had to tell details I’d rather not.”

His sister sighed. “I’ll vouch for you. I can be by your side during the whole thing. You wouldn’t have to do this alone.” She paused and then added slowly, “If you say the right things, our parents will figure it out on their own anyway. They’re smart. Let them draw their own conclusions.”

Liu Qingge let out a wavering breath as he considered everything his sister had said. The thought of having Mingyan’s support did make the prospect of bringing the matter into the light somewhat less intimidating. But there was still that curl of fear and shame in his gut. “I…I don’t know, Mingyan,” he said haltingly.

“Think about it, then,” she said earnestly, taking his hand again, prying his fingers apart so she could twine hers between them, squeezing. “Please. You deserve so much better than all this.”

Liu Qingge huffed in a mixture of derision and overwhelmed self-deprecation. “He told me I was pathetic,” he murmured, looking down. “Maybe he was right. I can’t even make a decision about this.”

“When did he say that?” Liu Mingyan demanded indignantly. “Cause he’s fucking wrong.”

“Just today,” Liu Qingge answered before he stop himself.

Mingyan’s fingers tightened. “He was bothering you on the hunt?”

Liu Qingge nodded. “He demanded that I agree to marry him.” He’d said so much already, why not this too?

“Excuse me, what?!” His sister sounded angry, her tone suddenly sharp. “What gives him the right to think you’d even entertain the idea?”

“He threatened me with my disciple’s safety,” Liu Qingge replied, feeling the now-familiar lick of panic in the back of his throat at the thought. “I know he has his eye on Yang Yixuan and it’s my responsibility to protect him and--”

“Qingge!” Liu Mingyan tugged at his hand to get his attention, her voice loud and firm. She waited until his eyes had focused on her to continue. “What else did he say?”

“That he would rule the clan here after Father retires so I can stay at Bai Zhan--”

“That asshole is just after our money, isn’t he!” It was a statement, not a question. It had only taken her mere moments to see the whole of Deng Rouhuan’s scheme; Liu Qingge thought his mind must be very clouded in comparison. His emotions were messy, the very reason he didn’t like dealing with them, to begin with. Mingyan was clear-headed with an outside perspective. She had said he could rely on her. He decided right then that he would, and let her guide him through this murk because his judgment was clearly compromised. He gripped her hand tightly and felt her squeeze back firmly and steadily. “Yang Yixuan can leave here and go back to Cang Qiong, where he’s far away from that bastard and not at risk.” Liu Qingge jolted; he hadn’t even realized this, too caught up in projecting his own experiences onto the situation. “He’s not stuck within Deng Rouhuan’s reach like you were,” Mingyan said gently, her manner softening.

Liu Qingge couldn’t help but cringe. He couldn’t look at his sister, too embarrassed by the emotional assumptions he’d made, which it was obvious now, was exactly what Deng Rouhuan had wanted. Mingyan reached out and caught his chin ever so gently between her fingertips, tilting his face back up so she could look him in the eye. “You have nothing to be ashamed of,” she murmured, correctly reading his expressions in an uncanny manner that would have made their mother proud.

He had been waiting for so long to hear that from someone without even realizing it. Tears immediately flooded his eyes again. “All I could think of was how I could swing a sword better than half the cultivators twice my age and yet he managed to get what he wanted anyway. My strength meant nothing.” Liu Qingge took a shuddering breath. His next words came out in a whisper. “I was so vulnerable, Mingyan. I didn’t want that to happen to him.”

“I know,” she said, letting her hand slide up to cup his cheek. “And it’s admirable of you. You’re protective of the people you love, Qingge, you always have been. That’s a strength, not a weakness. Yang Yixuan is very lucky to have you as his shizun.”

Liu Qingge huffed a little, blinking back his tears as best he could, though one slipped past his efforts and down his cheek. “To think I didn’t even want him at first. Shen Qingqiu convinced me, and said Yang Yixuan and I would be good for each other.”

Liu Mingyan smiled a little. “Master Shen was right. You’ve grown so much being Yang Yixuan’s shizun. I can understand why you’re desperate to protect him. But I also know your tendency to be self-sacrificial. You don’t have to throw your own well-being away this time, Qingge. Trust me.”

There was a long pause during which the two of them just existed together, and Liu Qingge wrestled with himself. His sister’s gentleness and acceptance had done much to soothe some of his worst fears and worries about the situation, and her firmness and fierceness had brought him some much-needed clarity. He knew saying anything to his parents would be extremely difficult and probably terrifying but he trusted Mingyan to literally hold his hand through all of it. He deserved this, didn’t he? A chance at some justice? Maybe it would be a relief to not have to hide anymore.

He leaned his cheek into her palm, letting his eyes slide shut. “Okay,” he whispered. “I’ll talk to Father and Mother. But after the feast.” No sense in upending all their hard work in hosting the event. He’d waited twenty years. He could wait another evening.

Liu Mingyan looked as if she would protest for a moment before finally nodding, evidently deciding not to push him, as if realizing how much of a concession he’d already made. “Okay,” she agreed. “And I’ll be right there with you, promise.”

“Thanks, Mingyan.” Liu Qingge offered her a tiny smile, even if it was weak and full of uncertainty.

“Shall I help you finish getting ready, then?” she asked as she withdrew her hand from his cheek, allowing him to wipe away his own escaped tear. “The belts look like they’re complicated.” She gestured toward the robes still waiting on his bed.

He acquiesced and his sister assisted him into the heavy outer robe with all its intricate embroidery and long and wide sleeves. She fastened the belts and helped him straighten the layered collars where they sat high up around his throat. He peered at himself critically in the mirror when they were done.

“You look handsome as can be,” Liu Mingyan told him with a smile. “So sophisticated.”

Liu Qingge frowned a bit. “I don’t look like myself.”

“You look different,” Mingyan conceded, still smiling. “But it’s good. Trust me.”

At least his hairstyle was familiar. Liu Qingge huffed and turned away from the mirror. “I’ll take you at your word.” He jerked his chin toward the door. “Shall we go? I’m sure we’re late as it is.” If anyone asked, he would say it was because his robes were complicated and not because he’d been crying in his little sister’s arms.

The two of them departed, heading for the main hall side by side, shoulder to shoulder.

Chapter 12

Notes:

Hello! I hope everyone who celebrates Christmas had a nice holiday--I worked and also was down with a migraine so the week leading up to the holiday seemed neverending. It felt like a long time to go without posting a new chapter too. But here we are, we made it!

All I'll say for this one is don't get too comfortable hehehe

Please enjoy! See you in the comments <3

The line of arriving guests seemed endless. Many had traveled in carriages but several had come on horseback and dripped water on the spotlessly clean floor of the main hall as they greeted the Liu family with formal bows and cupped hands. There were many cultivators Liu Qingge recognized as old friends of his parents or aunt and uncle and even some who were more friendly with his grandparents, all of whom he hadn’t seen in many years. He couldn’t remember their names if he’d been asked but he still bowed to them respectfully. In between the greetings, he held Liu Mingyan’s hand tightly where they stood just behind and to the side of their parents in the center of the main hall. He felt as though her familiar grip was the only thing keeping him grounded, as if he might float away without it. His sister glanced over to check on him periodically, catching his eye and arching a brow questioningly. He always managed to give a small smile in return and squeezed her fingers in as reassuring a manner as possible.

Once all the formal greetings were completed, the guests found their seats and the food began arriving in the practiced hands of the servants. Liu Qingge had a chair beside his sister at the head table, Liu Jinhai on his other side. Their grandparents occupied the center of the table, with Liu Qingge's parents and aunt and uncle on the opposite end. The clan was less stringent about seating order than some of their peers, so as long as all family members were at the same table it was considered acceptable. The hall was warm and cozy despite the dreary weather outside, lit by a multitude of softly flickering lanterns. Surrounded by his family, Liu Qingge felt safe enough to relax and enjoy the food and the atmosphere. Everything was delicious, from the dumplings to the roasted pheasant, and he even enjoyed a cup of mulled wine. Music played by a trio of servants in the corner provided a pleasant background to the murmuring of conversations and laughter floating around the room. Liu Qingge steadfastly ignored Deng Rouhuan’s presence on the far left of the room, at the table closest to his parents. Instead, he sought out his disciple, who was seated with Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe on the other side of the room, closer to where Liu Qingge was sitting. The three seemed to be enjoying themselves, chattering and gesturing animatedly.

When the servant girl came by to refill everyone’s wine cups, Liu Qingge nodded in acquiescence. He didn’t drink often but this was an appropriate occasion, wasn’t it? It was supposed to be the beginning of the festival, after all.

Several times, Liu Qingge looked up and caught both Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe staring at him appreciatively. He flushed under their scrutiny, hiding behind his wine cup. Finally, Liu Mingyan nudged him and leaned over to whisper, “I see certain people are most ardently admiring you.”

Liu Qingge’s blush deepened. “Mingyan,” he whined quietly. “Don’t say that sort of thing!”

His sister huffed a soft laugh. “Why not? It’s true. I do believe Master Shen is undressing you with his eyes.” Her tone was casual but her words were enough to cause Liu Qingge’s brain to stutter.

“Mingyan!” he hissed again, scandalized, shooting her a dirty look.

“What?” she said innocently, tearing a piece of chicken off of a drumstick. “Is it so hard to believe that the man you love might also find you attractive?”

“He’s married!” Liu Qingge said exasperatedly as if that explained anything. Never mind the fact that Shen Qingqiu had told him he was beautiful just the previous day. “I’m sure they’re just surprised because they’ve never seen me dressed up this fancy.”

“Thanks for making my point for me,” Mingyan said with a grin.

Liu Qingge groaned, putting his face in his hands, the wooden beads dangling from his hair stick clacking together softly. His cheeks were absolutely burning with mortification. When his sister got like this, witty and relentless, he hardly stood a chance against her. Beside him, Liu Jinhai spoke up.

“What’s this? Cousin has a crush on Master Shen?” His tone was light, not teasing but instead rather considering.

Liu Qingge grunted but said nothing, forcing Liu Mingyan to reply in his stead. “Qingge has been head over heels in love with Master Shen for ten years now,” she said matter-of-factly, laying her brother's heart bare before he could protest. It didn't matter; Jinhai was perceptive and persistent. He would eventually get the truth of it out of Liu Qingge anyway. “Master Shen has, however, been wed to Lord Luo for about a year. You see the issue.” Mingyan’s hand rubbed comfortingly across her brother’s back.

“Mm, that is indeed a dilemma,” Jinhai agreed thoughtfully. “I guess that explains why Qingge hasn’t gotten married yet.” The words hit entirely too close to Liu Qingge’s sore heart and the nervousness still curled in his gut over the Deng Rouhuan business. Liu Qingge stiffened and sat up, sighing in irritation. His sister’s hand remained between his shoulder blades, a grounding weight.

“I’m right here, you know,” he complained crossly, reaching for his wine cup.

“Indeed you are,” Liu Jinhai agreed, sounding sheepish. “Sorry, Qingge. It’s just…have you ever thought about a non-traditional arrangement?”

Liu Qingge’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Liu Jinhai shrugged, leaning back in his chair and propping his elbows on the armrests. “Like something where you and Luo Binghe share Master Shen? Or a relationship of equals between the three of you?”

Liu Qingge thought back to his mother’s words about an “arrangement” he may work out with the couple. He wasn’t sure if it was something he dared entertain; up until very recently, Luo Binghe had given no indication he would take at all kindly to anyone else touching or romancing his husband, not that Liu Qingge could blame him. And Liu Qingge wasn’t sure sharing was something he could agree to either. Could he live with being Shen Qingqiu’s second choice? Wasn’t that somehow worse than just being the man’s friend? He thought of the three of them being equals in a relationship held more appeal but wasn’t that a crazy thought? He shook his head. “Luo Binghe would never agree to anything like that,” he murmured. “He tolerates me but that’s it.”

“Are you sure?” Jinhai asked in a low voice, leaning closer. “Cause he seems awfully interested in you on his own right now. Look.”

Liu Qingge chanced a glance up toward the man in question to find Luo Binghe’s dark eyes fixed unwaveringly on him, something like a mix of wonder and heat in them. As he watched, Luo Binghe’s tongue peeked out and followed the line of his bottom lip; Liu Qingge’s eyes tracked the movement automatically. Whether or not it had been deliberate, it still sent a shot of heat down Liu Qingge’s spine. He had to look away before his reaction could go any further. For the first time, Liu Qingge let himself wonder what it might be like to have an affectionate relationship with Luo Binghe--not love, surely Luo Binghe would never love him--and to be held by him, kissed by him. Maybe it would be alright. Perhaps it would be good. Enjoyable. Liu Qingge’s flush deepened.

“I don’t know, cousin,” Liu Jinhai murmured. “I wouldn’t rule anything out if I was you.”

Liu Qingge gave his cousin a bewildered look. “Didn’t you say you’d throw Luo Binghe to my parents’ mercy if he does anything weird? Why would you endorse me being in a relationship with him?”

Liu Jinhai shrugged again, smiling. “I know matters of the heart are complicated. If it makes you happy to be with him, Qingge, I can ignore your past misunderstandings with Lord Luo. As long as he never raises a hand to you in anger ever again, anyway.” There was a hint of ice in his tone, indicating he would still follow through on his threat if he believed it necessary.

Liu Qingge huffed affectionately and nudged his cousin’s elbow. “I appreciate that.”

Luckily for Liu Qingge’s thin face, the topic slid away from his potential romantic entanglements though that certainly didn’t stop his mind from dwelling on the possibilities. He had allowed himself to imagine from time to time over the years what it might be like to hold Shen Qingqiu’s hand or kiss him but hadn’t let himself to think much further beyond that. It seemed somehow easier to go down that train of thought with Luo Binghe however, perhaps because so much of their interaction had been so deeply physical already, what with their brawling and all. All Liu Qingge knew was that the mere thought of it made him hot under the collar, a reaction he had not in any way been prepared for.

He gulped some more wine and had managed to wrangle his errant thoughts back under control by the time a hand landed on his shoulder. Liu Qingge turned to see his father standing behind him, brows drawn in an expression much too serious for the festive setting. Liu Qingge felt himself reflecting the expression. “What is it, Father?”

Liu Yichen motioned with his head toward the back of the hall, away from the guests and the clamor. “I need to speak to you, son.”

“Of course.” Liu Qingge pushed his chair back and stood, catching his sister’s questioning gaze and shrugging minutely as he did so. He followed Liu Yichen until they reached a quiet corner, where father and son turned to face one another. Liu Yichen was dressed almost as sumptuously as Liu Qingge, in robes of deep green brocade embroidered in a wavy pattern meant to mimic willow branches layered over shimmering black silk. A green jade yaopei carved with a willow tree dangled from his black belt. His hair was pulled up in a hair crown nearly identical to Liu Qingge’s, the tiny gems in the tree branches glittering in the lantern light. There was no doubt from his attire and proud carriage that Liu Yichen was the head of the clan.

“What’s wrong?” Liu Qingge asked.

“Deng Rouhuan just came to me and asked for your hand in marriage,” Liu Yichen said bluntly, looking troubled.

Liu Qingge felt all the blood drain from his face. His mouth dropped open. That bastard wasn’t wasting any time, was he? “Father, wh--” Liu Qingge had to pause and clear his throat, gathering himself before continuing, “What did you say?”

“I told him I wouldn’t bless off any union without talking to you first,” Liu Yichen said firmly, his expression turning indignant. “This seems so sudden. You’ve said nothing about this to me or anyone else, as far as I can gather.”

Liu Qingge could have kissed his father just then for his suspicion. But still, he hesitated; how much should he say? This was a perfect opportunity to unload the truth on his father but was it a wholly appropriate setting? It could turn out highly embarrassing for the clan if a dramatic scene resulted from anything he said right now. Finally, he settled on a small portion of the truth for the time being. “It was sudden,” he said. “Just this morning, he found me and proposed marriage.” Liu Qingge held his father’s gaze. “I never agreed to anything.”

Liu Yichen hummed. “So this isn’t something you’re amenable to?”

Liu Qingge shook his head vehemently. “No, Father,” he said adamantly. “I don’t want to marry him.”

“I see.” Liu Yichen nodded smartly. “You know your mother and I would never bless a marriage you didn’t want. This was unexpected of him, to say the least. Your mother is also very concerned.” Liu Qingge nearly sagged in relief. He should have guessed that his parents would be suspicious and alarmed, bless them. His mother was also aware his heart lay elsewhere. “Bold of him to attempt to force himself on you like this,” Liu Yichen spat, his expression becoming stormy.

Liu Qingge forced himself not to flinch at the words; for the first time, it occurred to him how devastated his father would be if he learned the full truth of his old friend’s transgressions. Would it be kinder to withhold certain things? At the same time, was that entirely fair to himself? For now, he saw the opportunity to expose Deng Rouhuan’s greed. “He mentioned filling in here as my regent,” Liu Qingge murmured. “He apparently doesn’t know about the plan to have Jinhai sit in that role.”

Liu Yichen huffed through his nose. “He thankfully doesn’t know or I would say your cousin is in danger,” he said, outraged. “He wants access to the family wealth through you, does he? How could he plot and scheme like this? After all these years?”

Liu Qingge watched Liu Yichen fume for several long moments before he blurted, “I’m sorry, Father.” He couldn’t say precisely what he was sorry for. Maybe for being the cause of this situation, of his father’s stress? Maybe for having once been a naive, vulnerable teenager who had been easily manipulated?

“Sorry?” Liu Yichen shook his head, reaching out to give his son's shoulder a firm squeeze. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You’ve done nothing wrong. He ought to be ashamed for trying to take advantage of all of us and using our good relationship for his own gain.”

“What will you do now?” Liu Qingge asked quietly, wrapping his arms around himself.

“I’m going to throw him out on his fucking ear, that’s what! That ungrateful cur!” Liu Yichen was already turning back toward the feast to do just that. “He’ll never be welcome here for the rest of his miserable life, I swear on my sword.”

How easy it would be to add a few sentences about the rest of the things Deng Rouhuan had done and seal the man’s fate, for surely Liu Yichen would take his blade to Deng Rouhuan’s neck in the name of his only son’s honor. But perhaps this was acceptable too, for him to be banished from clan lands forever. It would be gentler on Liu Qingge and on his parents too, spare them all the harsh shared knowledge of his rape. It wasn’t necessarily the kind of justice Liu Qingge’s soul called out for but he could make do, he supposed. And so he made no move to stop his father as he stormed off.

Liu Qingge returned to his seat after another moment. Mingyan looked up as he approached. “What’s going on?” she asked urgently, frowning.

“Deng Rouhuan asked Father for my hand,” Liu Qingge explained as he sank slowly back into his chair. “He was rightfully suspicious so he wanted to ask me about it.”

“And what did you tell Father?” Liu Mingyan asked, reaching over to grasp his forearm.

“I told him that I don’t want to marry Deng Rouhuan and that he’d mentioned being regent. Father immediately knew it was about the money, the same way you did.” Liu Qingge tried once again to push down his embarrassment at his own emotional response that had initially blinded him to the obvious. Liu Mingyan eyed him with a gentle sternness, as if she could guess what he was thinking, giving his arm a comforting squeeze.

“Holy shit,” Liu Jinhai said suddenly, cutting off any further exchange between the siblings. He jostled Liu Qingge’s elbow. “Look at that. Uncle’s really angry!”

Liu Qingge glanced over to the left of the head table, where his father had Deng Rouhuan on his feet, a fist wrapped in his collar. Liu Yichen began hauling the other man toward the doors, past all the other guests in a humiliating show; Liu Qingge couldn’t deny the stab of satisfaction the sight brought him. Deng Rouhuan threw a poisonous glare over his shoulder at Liu Qingge as they went; a shiver raced down Liu Qingge’s spine. He reached reflexively for his sister’s hand where it lay on his arm, holding on tightly.

“He knows I sold him out,” Liu Qingge said quietly, a tremor in his voice that he hated. “I’m sure he didn’t expect me to do that.” No doubt Deng Rouhuan had thought Liu Qingge would be too frightened to even murmur a word against him in any capacity.

“You’re safe here,” Liu Mingyan murmured in reply. “Father will throw him out and that will be that.”

Liu Qingge was seized by a sudden sense of panicky uncertainty. “Will it though? What if he tries to come back?” His grip on his sister’s hand tightened until it had to be painful though she didn’t so much as twitch.

“We have scouts for a reason,” Mingyan said, patting his hand with her free one. “We have alarms set up all over the place. You know that. Take a deep breath, Qingge.”

He struggled to do as she instructed but he managed it just as the doors to the hall thumped shut behind the two men exiting. Then he reached for his wine and gulped down the rest of it. The music continued and gradually the chatter in the room resumed, the feasting carrying on as normal.

An incense time later, Liu Yichen returned to the hall alone. He still looked irritated but somewhat calmer than he had before. He strode straight to where his son was sitting and said, “He’s been removed from the estate, under armed escort toward the nearest border of our land. All scouts have been instructed to forcibly remove him if he’s seen on our lands again.”

Liu Qingge ducked his head. “Thank you, Father.” He wondered about what Yichen had said to his old friend outside; he thought about the fact that the man could still gloat about the bigger crime he’d committed. His father had thrown away his boyhood friendship for a betrayal against the clan but not for a sin committed against his son. Liu Qingge knew then with a terrible certainty that until he could tell his parents the full truth, Deng Rouhuan would still hold some sway over him.

It was a realization that stole the remainder of his appetite.

As the banquet was winding down, Liu Qingge found the head table emptying as his parents, grandparents, and aunt and uncle all left their seats to mingle with their friends until it was only him, Mingyan, and Jinhai left. Liu Mingyan was obviously beginning to tire, slumping in her chair and leaning her head on her brother’s shoulder. It was undoubtedly getting late.

Despite her creeping exhaustion, Mingyan sat up straight as she spotted Shen Qingqiu approaching. “Oh,” she murmured, nudging Liu Qingge.

Shen Qingqiu’s fan fluttered before him; Liu Qingge saw that it was one he had gifted his fellow peak lord, painted delicately with plum blossoms and bamboo shoots. His heart stuttered at the thought that Shen Qingqiu had kept it and apparently used it. Shen Qingqiu ducked his head in greeting as he came up to the table, a small smile curving his lips as his eyes settled on Liu Qingge. “Pardon me but this master wanted to ask Liu-shidi if he might want to come join our table?”

Liu Qingge immediately found himself flustered, glancing toward his sister for help as his cheeks heated. Mingyan smiled and nudged him. “Go on,” she murmured. “I’ll keep our cousin company.”

Liu Qingge hurried to stand. “Ah, yes, yes I’ll join you,” he stammered, taking his wine cup as he abandoned his place at the head table. When he came around to the front, Shen Qingqiu graced him with a wider smile, coming to his side and smoothly looping a hand through the crook of Liu Qingge’s elbow.

“Come, shidi. Keep me company while Binghe and your disciple have yet another heated debate about swords.” There was laughter in Shen Qingqiu’s voice and it made Liu Qingge’s heart flip-flop. He made an acquiescing noise and allowed the other man to steer him in the appropriate direction.

Yang Yixuan looked up and grinned when the pair reached the table. “Shizun!” he greeted happily. Beside him, Luo Binghe’s greeting was more muted but his dark eyes lingered on Liu Qingge’s body in a way that made Liu Qingge want to shiver with something akin to anticipation.

“Liu-shishu.” Luo Binghe’s voice was low. Shen Qingqiu clicked his tongue reproachfully and immediately Luo Binghe’s spine straightened and his gaze trained respectfully back on Liu Qingge’s face. He gestured toward the empty seats. When he spoke next, his tone was much closer to normal. “Join us, please.”

Liu Qingge sat down, feeling a bit breathless. “What’s with your husband?” he griped as Shen Qingqiu sat beside him, though the slight waver in his voice ruined his attempt at indignation. At the other end of the table, chatter resumed between the head disciple and the demon lord.

“Please excuse Binghe if he made you uncomfortable,” Shen Qingqiu murmured, shooting him a little smile. “He thinks you look lovely tonight. We both do. But you know how he is, the little beast. He can be intense.”

Liu Qingge stared at Shen Qingqiu. “Oh,” he said dumbly. “Thank you.”

Shen Qingqiu chuckled. “Did you see your reflection after you dressed, shidi? You look gorgeous. This color really suits you.”

Liu Qingge blushed, ducking his head. “I didn’t think I looked much like myself,” he admitted shyly. He rubbed the heavy brocade of his sleeve cuff between his fingertips consideringly.

Shen Qingqiu nudged his arm, whether intentionally or by accident he couldn’t tell. “Well, these robes are certainly different than your Bai Zhan whites. But it’s a good different.”

Liu Qingge’s lips quirked. “That’s what Mingyan said too.”

“Your sister has a keen eye,” Shen Qingqiu said lightly, playfully. “I’d trust her judgment, even if you don’t trust mine.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Liu Qingge said hurriedly, perhaps a bit too seriously, because Shen Qingqiu laughed, a tinkling sound that was pleasant to the ears.

“No need to be so serious, shidi,” he said, glancing at Liu Qingge with twinkling eyes. “I’m only trying to pay you a sincere compliment.”

Liu Qingge tried not to groan at himself, resisting the urge to bury his face in his hands. “I’m sorry I’m so awkward,” he whined in a rare moment of voiced self-deprecation.

“It’s part of your charm, shidi, trust me.” Shen Qingqiu’s voice had turned earnest. There was that sentiment again, that he found Liu Qingge charming. If he didn’t know better, he’d say that Shen Qingqiu was flirting with him.

There was a moment of quiet and then Liu Qingge declared, “I need more wine.” He was so flustered and overwhelmed that having another drink seemed the only logical thing to do just then. Shen Qingqiu laughed again and flagged down a servant with a wine carafe.

While Liu Qingge took a gulp of his refilled wine, Shen Qingqiu spoke again, but this time all hints of playfulness or flirtatiousness were gone. “What was all that earlier with Deng Rouhuan, shidi?”

Liu Qingge froze with a mouthful of wine behind his teeth. How to answer? How much detail? He swallowed slowly and then murmured, “My father threw him off clan lands because he asked for my hand in marriage.”

Shen Qingqiu choked on air, a rather graceless reaction from someone usually so poised. “What the fuck?”

Liu Qingge did his best to explain what had happened in a concise manner, from how Deng Rouhuan had approached him that morning on the hunt to how Liu Yichen had pulled him aside not all that long ago. Shen Qingqiu listened with an increasingly outraged expression until by the end, his hands shook slightly when he reached for his own wine cup and guzzled from it.

When he came up for air, he muttered, “So. That’s why you were upset when we were getting ready to head back from the hunt.”

Liu Qingge nodded sheepishly. “Yes,” he murmured. “I’m sorry for being rude back then.”

Shen Qingqiu waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. You had just been proposed to by a scummy asshole!” He snorted. “If one can call that a proposal. It sounds more like a demand.”

“It’s not what I’ve imagined marriage proposals are supposed to be like,” Liu Qingge said by way of agreement. His cheeks heated as he realized what he’d just admitted to.

“Well, good fucking riddance to him!” Shen Qingqiu said forcefully. There was a pause and then in a softer tone, he asked, “So you’ve thought about marriage, shidi?”

“O-only once or twice!” Liu Qingge sputtered, looking anywhere but at his conversation partner. “I’m the eldest son of the clan so it’s always been expected that one day I should marry.”

Shen Qingqiu hummed consideringly. “Though it sounds as though your parents’ only concern is that it be a union you actually want. Have they never tried to arrange a match for you?”

Liu Qingge shook his head. “Not since it became apparent when I was four or five years old that I had natural talent for cultivation. They’ve always just wanted me to pursue my own goals.”

“That’s a rare thing, especially in noble families like yours,” Shen Qingqiu commented.

“I know. I’ve been lucky.” Liu Qingge’s gaze found his parents across the room, where they were talking and laughing with a small group of their friends. “My mother always said that it was only a matter of time before someone fell in love with me, that I didn’t have to go looking for love. It would find me if it was meant to be.”

“She’s a smart woman,” Shen Qingqiu murmured. When Liu Qingge turned to look at him, he was met with an incredibly tender expression and green eyes full of unmistakable fondness. Liu Qingge’s heart pounded so loud he was sure the other man could hear it. "Anyone would be lucky to have you."

Liu Qingge could feel his flush deepen, his cheeks heating until they were burning. He had to look away from Shen Quingiu, biting his lip in embarrassment. "I don't know about that," he said, brushing nonexistent dust from his sleeve nervously. "I'm moody and hard to deal with."

"You are stubborn, I'll give you that." Shen Quingiu reached for his hand, stilling its mindless movement. His long fingers were gentle and careful around Liu Qingge's own, holding his hand as if it were made of the most precious glass. The fondness in his voice sent an undeniable warmth through Liu Qingge's chest. "But you are so much more than that, shidi. You are loyal and passionate and kind and thoughtful. Seeing the way your family adores you only makes me believe more that you're exceptional."

Liu Qingge shook his head, lips quirking wryly. “I think you’re giving me too much credit. My family is kind to a fault and, as you mentioned, loyal. I’m just a simple man who likes to swing swords around.” He wasn’t sure why he was having such a hard time accepting these compliments but it felt necessary to refute it all.

Shen Qingqiu smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with being a simple man, shidi. Sometimes less truly is more.”

“That is the saying, isn’t it?” Liu Qingge huffed a quiet laugh. “I’m flattered.”

“It’s not mere flattery,” Shen Qingqiu insisted, squeezing Liu Qingge’s hand. His expression was so earnest that it made Liu Qingge want to squirm in a strange mix of uncomfortableness and giddiness. He didn’t know what to say in reply. He was saved from having to figure it out by his father striding to the center of the main hall to make an announcement. Liu Yichen explained that because of the less than ideal weather, the traditional lantern lighting would take place the following evening instead. Following this information, he bid everyone in the hall goodnight. Servants began to make the rounds of the hall, clearing away dirty dishes and cups, while pouring last draughts of wine for those who asked for them. Liu Qingge held his cup out for more. One last drink to mark the occasion of Deng Rouhuan being thrown off clan lands, one more to mark the occasion of Shen Qingqiu flirting with him. He drank the wine down quickly.

“I’ve never known you to drink like this, shidi,” Shen Qingqiu commented, tilting his head as he watched.

Liu Qingge shrugged, putting his empty cup down and shoving it away for a servant to take. “I haven’t indulged in a long time,” he admitted. “But it’s the beginning of the festival, so I thought I could stand to lighten up a bit tonight.” He paused and pushed himself to his feet; once upright, he realized he was actually quite dizzy. “I think I better turn in for the night.” He waved a hand loosely, not really sure why he was doing so, but noticing the way his wide sleeve flapped about in a most satisfying manner. Was this why Shen Qingqiu favored loose sleeves? That was a surprisingly complicated thought and his brain didn’t seem willing to examine it further.

Shen Qingqiu grinned, no doubt noticing his fixation with the sleeve. “How are you feeling, shidi?”

Liu Qingge hummed consideringly. “Mm. I think I’m a little drunk.”

Shen Qingqiu chuckled. “Just a little?”

“Just a little,” Liu Qingge confirmed. “M’tired. Wanna go to bed.”

“I’ll walk you to your room, shidi,” Shen Qingqiu declared, standing up. “You shouldn’t go by yourself.”

“I know my way around, I’ll be fine!” Liu Qingge insisted, frowning. Of course, he knew his own home!

“I’m sure you would be,” Shen Qingqiu said agreeably, taking Liu Qingge’s elbow gently and steering him around the table. “Humor me. I just want to spend more time in your company.”

Liu Qingge forgot to feel bashful at those words, instead letting out a little giggle that he would certainly have been deeply embarrassed about if he had been sober. “You must like me if that’s true.”

Shen Qingqiu was staring at him in open delight. “Well, yes, I do like you, shidi,” he replied with a light laugh. His fingers squeezed Liu Qingge’s elbow. “Quite a lot, I’ll have you know. Now, let’s say goodnight to your disciple.”

Yang Yixuan was as intrigued as Shen Qingqiu by his shizun’s state of inebriation, something else Liu Qingge mused he would probably be embarrassed about the next day. The young man was also concerned, offering to take his master back to his rooms himself to spare Shen Qingqiu the trouble. Shen Qingqiu waved him off, saying looking after his fellow peak lord could never be any trouble but that Yang Yixuan should sleep lightly when he went to bed himself, in case his shizun needed anything in the middle of the night.

Privately, Liu Qingge thought that he would sleep like the dead once he laid down. It would be unlikely he would need anything from anyone.

“Master Shen!” Liu Mingyan appeared seemingly out of nowhere. “What--? Oh, I see my brother enjoyed the wine a bit too much.” She smiled and reached out to pat Liu Qingge’s cheek. “Thank you for looking after him. Please see that he makes it to his rooms in one piece.”

More words were exchanged but Liu Qingge missed them aside from his sister bidding him goodnight, to which he mumbled a similar sentiment in response. The tiredness was really beginning to set in now, the effects of the alcohol combining with the constant exhaustion he’d been living with for the last year to form a potent cocktail that had him ready to fall asleep on the spot. His ears seemed as though they were filled with cotton, the world muted, his limbs moving sluggishly. His eyelids were growing heavy. The thought of his bed sounded inviting just then.

Liu Qingge didn’t notice the walk to his rooms. He just knew Shen Qingqiu was talking to him so he tried to listen, grunting occasionally in response as the man spoke of inane topics. His melodious voice was soothing but it still gave Liu Qingge something to focus on as they walked. In what seemed no time at all, they were climbing the steps up to his front door. Shen Qingqiu opened it and helped Liu Qingge navigate through the front room to his bedroom, where gentle and careful hands helped him remove his precious hair crown and slide out of his heavy outer robe and then promptly bustled him into bed. Shen Qingqiu pulled the blanket up to Liu Qingge’s chin before smoothing loose strands of hair back from his face.

“Goodnight, Qingge,” he murmured.

“G’night.”

The last thing Liu Qingge heard before falling into unconsciousness was the outer door closing behind Shen Qingqiu.

Chapter 13

Notes:

THIS IS AN IMPORTANT NOTE!

I wish I could say this is my New Year's gift to you all but I'll be honest, fam, this is a rough one. Qingge is not having a good time here, at all, and we're jumping immediately into it. So I have to add a CW for this chapter for violence, assault, blood, a mention of suicide, and character death. Please read carefully if those are a concern! I've also updated the tags.

This is an important chapter even though it's a bit shorter in word count. I felt like these events are plenty for one chapter and I didn't want to clutter it up too much, so some stuff got pushed to the next chapter. I realize this is kind of a grim note to end on until the next update, so I'll do my best to get chapter 14 out asap!

Love you all for your support, as always! <3

Liu Qingge had slept the sleep of the dead, just as he'd predicted. His unconsciousness was deep and dreamless until it wasn't.

He came awake with a jolt, gasping. His mind was muddy and he wasn't sure what had woken him but when he blinked his eyes open it was still dark and quiet. It must be the deepest part of the night; Willow Manor was slumbering. The next thing he realized was that a heavy weight had settled all along his torso and there was pressure against his throat.

Adrenaline surged through his veins and he struggled, grunting. His limbs were sluggish with sleep and lingering alcohol. Large hands caught his wrists swiftly and pinned them beside his head. The pressure against his throat had disappeared and he sucked in a deep breath, prepared to yell and raise a ruckus.

"Don't you dare make a sound," a terribly familiar voice hissed above him. Liu Qingge couldn't see his face in the darkness but he knew who it was. He couldn't help but shudder. Liu Qingge's voice caught in his throat. "You should know I won't hesitate to kill you now that you've fucked up my plans. If you lay there quietly, this will be over sooner."

A cool metal cuff slid around Liu Qingge's wrist, drawing a surprised gasp from him. In the next moment, he felt his spiritual power become muffled. When he reached for it, it slipped away from him, like sand between his fingers. Where there was normally a raging river there was now a trickling brook. What the fuck was this? Some sort of cultivation-dampening device, obviously, but they were widely frowned upon among the sects and clans. Only rogue cultivators and practitioners of the dark arts used them or would have access to them. Where the hell had Deng Rouhuan gotten a hold of one?

More than that, how had he gotten back here without alerting a single scout or sentry or tripping a single alarm array?!

"Excuse my manners, Qingge," the man murmured in an amused tone. "I figured you'd struggle this time so I had to find some way to subdue you. You're not a teenager anymore, after all."

Liu Qingge opened his mouth to tell the fucker off, to shout and raise an alarm, but to his horror, nothing came out. His throat worked but no words were forthcoming. Deng Rouhuan seemed to realize his discovery and chuckled.

"Oh yes, I forgot to mention that the cuff takes your ability to speak as well. You can be so mouthy, you know. That was a little addition I had added custom."

Deng Rouhuan pulled Liu Qingge's arms higher above his head and transferred both his wrists into one huge hand, leaning on them until they hurt. Liu Qingge hissed at the pain, the sting of the cuff biting into his skin, and writhed, trying to throw his attacker off. A solid blow across his face stunned him into stillness, his ears ringing.

"Ah, you're so much more difficult than you were twenty years ago," Deng Rouhuan mused, a hand moving to clamp around Liu Qingge's hip as he rearranged himself, nudging a knee forcefully between Liu Qingge's own and pushing his thighs open. "You didn't squirm so much then until you were stuffed full of my cock."

Liu Qingge felt sick at the words and the accompanying memory they brought. His cheeks burned in humiliation. He shook his head in an attempt to clear the images from his mind and the ringing from his ears, though it didn't do any good. The side of his face throbbed where he'd been struck. Everything was happening so fast. He felt dazed. How had he ended up in this position yet again? It seemed surreal. This couldn't really be happening.

Rough fingers pulling his thin inner robe open reminded him this was actually real. He bucked again and Deng Rouhuan growled in frustration.

"I'd hoped the wine would have made you even more pliant," he muttered sourly. "I would prefer to look at your pretty face but needs must." He reared up at the same time he let go of Liu Qingge's wrists to grab his hips with both hands, flipping him over swiftly onto his stomach. Liu Qingge grunted at the movement, disoriented in the dark, but took the opportunity to attempt to get his knees under him and scramble for the edge of the bed. If he could just reach Cheng Luan…He wished fervently that he'd left the sword in his bed in a fit of paranoia. He couldn't summon it now with his cultivation so dampened. His arm reached out blindly in the direction of the sword; his fingers brushed something metal and he grasped it desperately as Deng Rouhuan clucked his tongue in disapproval and roughly pulled him back down the bed where he'd been before. Liu Qingge's knees were knocked apart and a hand at the nape of his neck shoved him down into the mattress, uncaring fingers tangling into his loose hair.

His robe was unceremoniously rucked up his back and he shivered at the cold air on his warm skin. Deng Rouhuan made a sound of appreciation and a moment later, his hand came down firmly against one of Liu Qingge's asscheeks in a loud smack, bringing a jolt of stinging pain and a wave of humiliation.

"Been thinking about your ass ever since I first saw you again," the man crowed, his fingers gripping the tender flesh and kneading roughly. "This ass is mine, you hear me? This is what's owed to me. You should have just agreed to the marriage, Qingge, and this wouldn't be happening."

There was a rustling of cloth. Liu Qingge cringed as he felt something hot and hard bumping his inner thigh. His fingers tightened around the metal object he'd managed to grab; his thumb swept over dozens of tiny rough circles. It took his mind a moment to place the sensation without the input of his eyes; he realized it was his hair crown, the one he prized above all others. The one carved with the Liu willow. The one given to him by his nai-nai. Tears pricked his eyes.

It wasn't Cheng Luan but he knew the pin was sharp.

Liu Qingge slowly pulled his arm in and steadied his breath, ignoring the hands groping his ass and waist. He would have one chance at this, just one. If he failed, he would probably be killed. He didn't doubt that Deng Rouhuan was capable of murder. His fingers slid behind the hair crown and around the pin so that the metal band stretched across his knuckles, gemstones facing outward. He lay quietly and pliantly, waiting.

"Oh, have you given up fighting?" Deng Rouhuan said with a laugh. There was the sound of a jar being unscrewed and then the slick sounds of what could only be the man coating his cock in oil. "Good. Maybe you'll even enjoy this."

Liu Qingge's whole body twitched at the first touch of slippery fingers along the cleft of his ass. He tensed, breathing deeply and coiling his muscles, the way he'd been taught as a young boy before he'd even started seriously cultivating. Explosive movement didn't require spiritual power.

When Deng Rouhuan's questing fingers brushed across his rim, Liu Qingge moved. A knee was drawn up followed by a vicious backward kick as he pushed up and twisted. He felt his heel connect with soft tissue and Deng Rouhuan grunted in pain. Before he could recover, Liu Qingge raised a hand and swung at his face.

The impact made a satisfying thump. The hair crown bent under the force of the blow but Liu Qingge could feel the numerous little gemstones catching on skin and grinding across it, just as he'd intended. Deng Rouhuan made a sound between a howl and a whimper and tried to pull back out of the reach of Liu Qingge's arm. Liu Qingge used the moment of the man being dazed and surprised with pain to pull the pin from the hair crown, tossing the misshapen metal band away. It clattered against the wooden floor somewhere beyond his bed.

"You little bitch!" Deng Rouhuan roared, touching the side of his face gingerly. His fingers came away bloody. Streaks of it trailed down his cheek, like dark shadows in the dimness. He raised a hand high, winding up to strike in retaliation.

Liu Qingge struck first. He saw an opening, the vulnerable side of Deng Rouhuan's neck unguarded, and swung his fist toward it. Time seemed to slow as he felt the silver hairpin puncture the man's neck, sinking into soft flesh and burying deep into the spot where Liu Qingge knew an artery lay, much like the one in his thigh that Luo Binghe had narrowly missed. Liu Qingge snarled and pressed harder; his fingers were quickly becoming slippery with a hot liquid he knew could only be blood. Baring his teeth in a rush of pure hatred for this man who had so damaged him, he yanked the pin free.

A spray of blood rained down on his face and bare chest. Liu Qingge shut his eyes and turned his head away as Deng Rouhuan choked wetly, his hands scrabbling in vain to press on his neck and staunch the blood. Liu Qingge scrambled out from under the other man, raising a foot to give a kick to Deng Rouhuan's chest for good measure, tipping him over across the bedding.

Liu Qingge half-fell off the bed, still clutching the bloody hairpin. His fingers frantically grabbed at the cuff on his wrist, trying to rip it free and regain both his spiritual power and his voice, but there was so much blood his fingertips kept slipping. Frustratingly, the cuff almost seemed to have adhered to his skin.

Luckily, it didn't matter that he couldn't call out for help. There was the clatter of running footsteps on the porch outside just before his door burst open and Luo Binghe barrelled inside, sheathed sword in hand, followed by Yang Yixuan and Shen Quingiu hot on his heels, the latter swinging a lantern up to illuminate the scene.

It wouldn't have taken much imagination to see the state Liu Qingge was in, thin robe open and hanging off one shoulder, loose hair all a mess and pale skin covered in blood, and the twitching Deng Rouhuan struggling to stand up from the bed, bleeding all over the blankets and the floor, and realize what was going on. Luo Binghe growled, lips pulling back in a dangerous snarl and eyes flashing crimson as he drew his sword in a blur. In moments, he was across the room in a swirl of sleeping robes and a mass of loose curls, swinging his blade in a shining lethal arc.

Deng Rouhuan's head hit the floor with a thump, cleaved clean of his shoulders in one sure movement, an end brought to his scheming and abuse by a demon lord, of all people. The body crumpled a moment later and silence fell, split only by the soft growl still reverberating in Luo Binghe's throat and Liu Qingge's harsh breathing as he collapsed to his knees on the floor, finally dropping the hairpin. The clinking sound it made against the floorboards was loud in the quiet.

It was over. Twenty years later, it was really over.

"Shizun!" Yang Yixuan hurriedly knelt beside Liu Qingge, dropping his Jia Xue with a clatter. His hands shook when he reached out to help Liu Qingge tug his robe closed. Tears were shining in the boy's eyes, glittering in the lantern light.

Liu Qingge's fingers finally managed to curl under the edge of the cuff on his wrist and this time when he pulled, it gave, peeling away from his skin with a soft sucking sound. Its power seemed to have weakened upon Deng Rouhuan's death. He threw it aside in disgust. It had left an inflamed red stripe around his wrist. Beside him, Yang Yixuan sniffled at the sight.

"Don't cry, Yixuan," Liu Qingge murmured, reaching a hand out to touch his disciple's shoulder before remembering he was bloody. Yang Yixuan caught his hand between his own anyway, clutching tightly. He said nothing but his lower lip wobbled. He leaned forward to rest his forehead against his shizun's shoulder, breathing shakily. Liu Qingge wrapped an arm around the boy's shoulders, his other hand clutching his robe closed.

Another beat of quiet and then the world around Liu Qingge exploded into chaos as more people piled into the room. His family, all of them with swords in hand, ready to kill for him, voices raised in angered and fearful query. He thought of the hair crown that had been his salvation, the willow tree that had defended him, the lethal pin that had stabbed a man's jugular. His family had been with him every moment of the ordeal even if they hadn't been present.

Silent tears snaked down Liu Qingge's cheeks, through the drying blood. He didn't even notice until his mother was kneeling in front of him, tears streaming down her own face. Her hands were warm and soft against his face as she cupped his cheeks, thumbs rubbing along his cheekbones.

"Qingge, are you hurt?" Mingzhu asked urgently, her voice wavering. She looked alarmed at the sight of so much blood.

Liu Qingge shook his head. "No," he murmured.

"Thank the gods." Chen Mingzhu pressed a kiss to her son's forehead. "Come, we need to get you cleaned up."

Zhang Liling appeared to gently draw Yang Yixuan away, curling an arm around the disciple's shoulders, squeezing and murmuring words of comfort to him. Yang Yixuan looked conflicted, glancing back at Liu Qingge's pathetic figure still collapsed on the floor, clearly unwilling to leave his shizun.

"Go on, I'll be fine." Liu Qingge sought to reassure his disciple, waving a hand. No one commented on the way that hand shook or how hoarse his voice sounded.

Liu Qingge allowed his mother to help him up from the floor, steadying him as his legs trembled. She pressed close to his side, uncaring about the blood, her arm looped steadily around his waist. He clutched his robe closed as she carefully steered him toward the door.

"Come on, baby. Let's get you out of here and into something clean." Chen Mingzhu's voice was as steady as her arm around him, the wavering long gone. Now that she had a clear path in sight, she would be as solid as a rock in a raging river, giving her son something to hold on to.

Outside, the cool night air was a relief on Liu Qingge's burning face. He took several deep breaths of it, trying to dislodge the coppery scent of blood in his nose. It was raining again, a soft patter on the cobblestones of the courtyard. The world was peaceful despite the violence that had just occurred. Chen Mingzhu guided him along the porch with gentle hands, away from the commotion and indignant voices. Finally, they stopped at a door and Liu Qingge realized they were at his parents' rooms on the opposite end of the courtyard. Chen Mingzhu opened the door and ushered him inside, closing the door again and shutting out the world.

Liu Qingge allowed his mother to maneuver him onto a cushion in the front room. "I'm going to heat a bath for you," she said and squeezed his shoulder before disappearing into the next room.

Liu Qingge took the chance to rub at his cheeks, trying to scrub away the tear tracks. He couldn't tell how successful he was; it was mostly just blood that smeared around and flaked off. He looked at his hands after and noted how blood had gotten under his fingernails and settled in around his cuticles, as if even now Deng Rouhuan was trying to mark him, settle into the fiber of his very being and never leave him. The thought made him queasy and he suddenly wanted nothing more than to scrub every last bit of the man from his body, even if he had to flay his skin off to do so. He lurched to his feet and stumbled into the next room, finding his mother at the bathtub behind the dividing screen.

Chen Mingzhu looked up from where she was testing the temperature of the bathwater with her fingers. "What is it, Qingge?" she asked, brows furrowing in concern.

"Mama," he gasped, holding his trembling hands up. He hadn't called her that since he was very young. "I have to get rid of him. I need to. Right now."

Mingzhu waved him over. "The water is warm enough."

Liu Qingge let his ruined robe slide off his shoulders into a heap on the floor. He was too intent on washing Deng Rouhuan away to be at all embarrassed about his nakedness, even when his mother held his elbow to steady him as he climbed into the tub. She would no doubt see all his scars and maybe even have questions about them later but he would worry about that when the time came. All that mattered now was the water and the soap.

Chen Mingzhu quietly settled on a stool behind Liu Qingge and began to comb out her son's hair, just as she had done the previous day, her hands gentle as they worked through the tangles and the crusted blood. She washed the tresses just as carefully. Liu Qingge's own hands were rough as he scrubbed his chest and arms and neck and face. He scrubbed until his skin was pink and the water tinted red. He took a brush to his nails next, growing increasingly frantic trying to erase the blood caked in all the crevices. It felt as though he spent an inordinately long time cleaning his hands but he didn't calm until every trace of the blood was gone.

It wasn't until he reached down to wash the oil from between his legs that the tears came again. Not in silent rivulets this time, but rather quiet gasps that gradually grew louder until he couldn't help the noise he was making. He had come so close to being violated. He didn't know what he'd have done if he had been unable to stop it this time. It wasn't outside the realm of possibility that he might not have even wanted to continue living. The thought was so unlike his usual self that it was startling. It felt foreign and frightening but he couldn't deny that being raped a second time very likely would have destroyed him. He buried his face in his palms and wept in great heaving sobs.

Liu Qingge found himself bundled out of the bath and into a towel and then his mother's arms as she settled back on her stool, her hand gently pressing his head down to her shoulder as she settled him in her lap as if he weren't a grown man at all but his much younger self.

"Oh, my son," she murmured, squeezing him and rocking him gently. "My baby. I'm so sorry this happened to you."

To you, not because of you.

He sobbed into her shoulder until he was exhausted and had no more tears for the time being. Chen Mingzhu hummed a soft tune and kissed the crown of his head, on top of his wet hair. Liu Qingge huffed tiredly and let his eyes slide closed, weary beyond words but safe in her arms.

Chapter 14

Notes:

Hello, lovelies! The first chapter of the new year! I am so grateful for all of you coming along on this journey and getting so invested in this story. It's been amazing and I hope we can continue the journey together in 2023 <3

I cranked this chapter out over the last two nights at work, writing on my phone lol not my preferred way to write but I couldn't wait for a day off! It's a little shorter than I would have liked but lots of important stuff happening here again. I wish I could say this update will have a less serious tone than the last one but...

Enjoy and see you in the comments!

When Liu Qingge opened his eyes again, it was day. Weak sunlight was streaming through the window nearby. It took him a moment to realize that he was lying in his parents’ bed, blankets tucked in around him. His eyes felt bleary and crusty, puffy from all the crying he’d done an unknown number of hours ago. He shifted, stretching his legs. He was wearing a white sleeping robe; his mother had surely wrapped him in it when she’d bundled him into bed.

A chair near the bedside was occupied by his sister; Liu Mingyan looked up from the scroll she’d been reading when she heard him stirring. Liu Qingge’s heart clenched when he met her gaze. She looked exhausted and grim, her eyes red-rimmed as though she too had been weeping. The feasting finery she'd been wearing the last time he'd seen her was long gone. She was dressed down in simple black robes, her hair swept back in a braid but otherwise unadorned. She tilted her head to the side and asked quietly, “How are you feeling?”

Liu Qingge took a moment to consider her question, taking stock of his body. He could feel some soreness across the backs of his knuckles where he’d punched Deng Rouhuan and when he held up his hands, both of his wrists appeared bruised and tender. His head pounded faintly, likely the result of all the wine he’d drunk at the banquet. He swallowed to wet his dry throat. “I’m alright, I think,” he said slowly. “Mostly just tired.”

Mingyan nodded once, looking down at the scroll clutched in her lap. There was a long silence. She sniffled. “I’m so sorry, Qingge,” she eventually whispered.

He wasn’t quite sure what to say. Nothing was fine, so he couldn’t bring himself to say that it was. He finally made a soft sound of acknowledgment. The sounds of commotion from outside drifted in past the window, voices and the unmistakable clamor of sawing and hammering. Liu Qingge frowned a bit. “What’s going on out there?” he asked.

“Father and Uncle have the carpenters replacing the flooring in your rooms,” Liu Mingyan murmured, still not looking up. “There was too much blood, the floorboards were ruined.”

Liu Qingge twitched in surprise. Of course, he hadn’t considered the mess his struggle with Deng Rouhuan must have left his rooms in before now, but he was grateful that the clean-up was being handled by other people. He wouldn’t have had the motivation or mental organization to tackle any of it himself. “Was anything else damaged?” he asked.

Liu Mingyan glanced up and shook her head. “No. Just your bedding. It’s all been removed and burned. Father said if you wanted an entirely new bed, one could be made for you as well.”

“That’s probably a little excessive,” Liu Qingge murmured. “But I’ll think about it.” His sister nodded. “What time of day is it?” he asked then. “How long have I been asleep?”

“It’s just past midday,” Mingyan informed him. “Are you hungry? Thirsty? Can I get you anything?”

“Water, please. Nothing else for now.” He felt a bit guilty for making her wait on him but at the same time, he wasn’t quite ready to get out of bed just yet.

Mingyan set the scroll aside, rose, and disappeared into the front room. Liu Qingge took the chance to touch his bruised wrists, pressing gently on the flesh to gauge how tender they were. He could still see the red mark along his skin where the cultivation-dampening cuff had sat, as if it had burned him slightly. He frowned at it, wondering what Mu Qingfang would make of the mark if he could see it. No doubt he would find the cuff interesting in a morbid sort of way. Liu Qingge wondered what had become of it. He was inspecting his scraped knuckles when his sister returned with a cup of water. He slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position and took the cup when she offered it. Her dark eyes lingered on his bashed-up hand.

“He got in with a demonic teleportation array,” she said suddenly, still staring at her brother’s injuries. “There were traces of it in his rooms. It’s how he managed to not alert any of the sentries or trip any of the alarm arrays.”

Liu Qingge hummed thoughtfully. “Makes sense,” he commented. “I suppose he learned such things while out traveling the wider world. Who knows what kind of people he associated with.”

“If only Father had been more watchful of him,” Mingyan hissed in frustration, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. “None of this would have happened.”

“Don’t blame Father, Mingyan,” Liu Qingge said, giving her a sharp glance. “It’s not his fault. He’s going to feel guilty enough without either of us blaming him. Deng Rouhuan had everyone fooled.” Including him, albeit in a different way.

Mingyan huffed but seemed to settle a bit, though her hands flexed. Liu Qingge drank his water. When he finished, he set the cup aside and looked at his sister. “I’m going to tell Mother and Father everything,” he said quietly.

“Are you sure?” Liu Mingyan’s expression had shifted from indignation to outright surprise. “Now that he’s…dead, you wouldn’t have to.”

Liu Qingge’s lips pressed into a thin line as he sighed. “I know,” he murmured a moment later. “But I feel like I’ll never be totally free if I don’t tell them the truth. I should have years ago.” He paused and then asked softly, “Will you stay when I tell them?”

Mingyan sat down on the edge of the bed near him, brows furrowed as she reached for his hand. “Of course, I will,” she replied, eyes searching his face earnestly. “I told you I would be at your side and that hasn’t changed. I’ll only go if you want me to.”

Liu Qingge squeezed her hand. “Thank you, Mingyan. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

His sister smiled a little, her eyes watery. “I love you, Qingge. And I’m so thankful you’re not hurt.”

“Love you too.” He had to look away when he spoke next, feeling a bit ashamed. “I’m thankful I wasn’t raped this time,” he whispered, cheeks burning in mortification as he forced himself to say the words, to acknowledge the reality of the situation. “Mingyan, I don’t think I would have wanted to live if I had been. I don’t think I could go through that again and that thought really scares me. I’ve never felt like that before, about anything.”

Liu Mingyan let out a shaky breath, covering his hand with her free one and clutching at him tightly. “It scares me to hear you say that,” she replied honestly. “But I won’t say your feelings aren’t valid. I can’t even imagine how you must feel but I’m doubly thankful that this situation didn’t end up being worse.” She sniffled. “I never want to lose you, Qingge. I nearly have too many times already.” No doubt she was thinking of all the times he had hovered near death during the five years of battling Luo Binghe.

Liu Qingge leaned over and kissed her forehead. Her eyes closed and a single tear slid down her cheek. “I’m not going anywhere, sister. I just needed to tell someone.”

She nodded and hastily wiped her tear away. Silence fell between them again but it didn’t last long, interrupted by the door opening and footsteps entering the outer room. Their mother appeared in the bedroom doorway, her tired, worried eyes taking in the sight of her two children with a note of what Liu Qingge could only call relief.

“Qingge, you’re awake,” Chen Mingzhu said, coming over to the bedside, where she squeezed her daughter’s shoulder in greeting before reaching out to cup her son’s jaw and lean down to kiss his brow in the same manner Liu Qingge had just done with his sister. Like Mingyan had done, he closed his eyes and let himself feel safe and loved. “You were sleeping so soundly we weren’t sure when you would wake up.”

“Sorry to worry you,” Liu Qingge murmured when Mingzhu straightened.

“No need to apologize,” she admonished gently as she sat in the chair Mingyan had occupied earlier, scooting it closer. “If anything your father and I owe you an apology. This is your home and you’re supposed to be safe and comfortable here, and we’ve utterly failed in this regard.”

Liu Qingge’s heart clenched, his chest aching. “Mama, the last thing I want is for you and Father to blame yourselves. Please don’t and know that I don’t, either.”

Mingzhu’s eyes were glassy with tears. “Still. I feel sick knowing we considered such an awful, vile person a friend.” That was guilt that his parents would have to work through on their own until they could forgive themselves for inadvertently allowing a rapist and manipulator into their home and lives. All Liu Qingge could do was continue to reassure them that he didn’t hold them at fault for what had happened. Deng Rouhuan had been utterly convincing in the roles he’d played when other people were watching. “If I had known he would lay hands on you like this, I would have killed him myself years ago,” his mother huffed.

It was Liu Qingge’s turn to feel guilty. It was strange to feel that way about keeping his secrets rather than the crippling fear he was so used to.

"I wish I could resurrect that fucker and kill him again with my own hands," came Liu Yichen's sharp voice from the doorway as he strode in just in time to hear his wife's comment. Despite his tone, he fixed his son with an approving look as he came closer to the bedside where the other members of his family were gathered. "Though you did a fine job of giving him what he deserved. I'm proud of you, Qingge, and the way you defended yourself, even if I hate that you had to at all." He drew something out of his sleeve and held it out to his son. "I thought you might want this."

Liu Qingge took the item from his father's hand. It was the hair crown, complete with the pin in place. It had been cleaned and showed no traces of blood. The band was misshapen, bent, and several of the gemstones were missing but the image of the willow was unmistakable. What was it that Shen Qingiu had said that first day when he saw the ancestral tree? Strong and unbent? Liu Qingge thought now that bent but not broken was a more apt phrase. At least, that's how he was feeling just then. He ran his thumb over the engraving and blinked back sudden tears, swallowing around a lump in his throat as he glanced up at his father.

"Thank you," Liu Qingge murmured, fingers closing around the hair crown tightly.

Liu Yichen nodded, face grim. "I want to apologize to you, son. I wish this hadn't happened to you. I'm sorry I missed the signs he was up to something more serious than schemes about money."

Liu Qingge shook his head, feeling overwhelmed. He didn't think he'd ever been apologized to so much in such a short amount of time. "I already told Mother I don't blame either of you," he said softly. "You don't have to keep apologizing." He paused and took a deep breath. "Actually, I owe both of you an apology instead."

Chen Mingzhu looked confused. "Whatever for?"

Liu Qingge glanced over at his sister. This was his last moment where he could back out, change his mind. He fervently hoped he wouldn't regret bringing this all into the light. Liu Mingyan gave him a tiny encouraging nod and Liu Qingge took another breath, squared his shoulders, and said, "Last night wasn't the first time Deng Rouhuan laid hands on me."

He had to pause and take a few steadying breaths to stave off a rush of panic. He clutched his sister's hand tightly, trembling. The silence was so thick, one could have heard a pin drop.

"Qingge," Chen Mingzhu whispered finally, her tone shaky. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

Liu Qingge closed his eyes, feeling the sting of tears behind them, the tightness in his throat. Mingyan scooted closer, laying a grounding palm between his shoulder blades.

"Breathe," she murmured softly. "Just breathe. You're doing just fine."

He listened to her calming voice and felt her steady touch and focused on nothing else for a long time. It seemed it was an eternity later that Liu Qingge had calmed himself enough to open his eyes again, looking down at the hair crown he was still clutching. He saw the metal band had indented his palm when he forced his fingers to relax.

"Yes," he said finally, answering his mother's question. "Yes, it's what you think."

Chen Mingzhu made a wounded noise, a sound Liu Qingge couldn't recall her ever uttering before in his life. Liu Yichen swore heatedly under his breath.

"When did this happen?" his father asked in a tone of tightly controlled rage.

Liu Qingge winced. "The winter I turned seventeen," he said faintly, glancing up at his father.

Liu Yichen wore an expression Liu Qingge had never seen before, something akin to anger but also grief. His eyes held an immeasurable heartbreak and to Liu Qingge's shock, they were shiny with tears. He had never seen his father cry. "You were just a boy," Yichen said helplessly, his fingers curling into fists and brows drawing down in an expression that would have looked angry if not for the trembling of his bottom lip.

Chen Mingzhu pressed a hand over her mouth, stifling a sob. Tears streamed down her cheeks freely. Liu Qingge hated that his truth had brought his parents such pain.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you before now," he said, the words tumbling out even as he knew they would only make his parents feel worse. "I was…scared. I didn't want to disappoint you, or bring shame to the clan. And the longer I went without saying anything, the harder it became to ever imagine telling you."

Beside Liu Qingge, Mingyan rested her head on his shoulder, burying her face in his robe. She sniffled quietly, fighting to keep her own composure as she squeezed his hand comfortingly.

"My baby," Chen Mingzhu sobbed, reaching for her son. Liu Qingge finally let go of the hair crown to wrap his arm around his mother as she moved from her chair to the bed. She clutched at him, tucking his head under her chin, his cheek against her collarbone. "I'm sorry you ever had cause to think we would be disappointed in you or love you less for something that was never your fault."

Her words made something loosen in Liu Qingge's chest. He had been waiting to hear them without even realizing he had been. He squeezed his eyes shut, gasping in relief, a few tears slipping out and down his cheeks. When he opened his eyes again, he looked up at his father.

Liu Yichen looked devastated. There was simply no other word for it. "I could never be disappointed in you, Qingge," he said quietly, almost brokenly. "I could never be ashamed of you, especially not for something like this. You're my son and I'm so proud of you. Nothing will ever change that."

Liu Qingge's breath hitched on a sob. His father was not an overly emotional man, or even a man of many words; such an unequivocal statement from him meant everything. "Thank you," he managed to choke out around the lump in his throat.

Yichen came closer to the bedside. There wasn't much space with both women holding onto Liu Qingge but Liu Yichen laid a strong hand on his son's shoulder and squeezed. "You were your own savior last night," he said quietly, holding Liu Qingge's gaze. "You've made your ancestors proud, son."

Liu Qingge sagged in relief in his mother's arms, closing his eyes again. The truth was out there, the words had been said, and his worst fears hadn't come to pass. His sister had been right when she had said that their parents wouldn't be disappointed in him, that they loved him too fiercely for that. His heart felt raw, vulnerable and sore from all the emotion in the room, and he found himself exhausted again.

"I think I'd like to sleep some more," he mumbled against his mother's shoulder.

Chen Mingzhu kissed his hair. "Alright, baby. Get some rest and we'll check on you later."

Liu Qingge slid back down under the covers secure in the knowledge that his family still loved him, a fact as certain as the sun rising in the east every morning.

+++

When Liu Qingge woke next, the light was fading. It must be evening, nearing suppertime. He still felt exhausted, his eyes heavy. The realization worried him. He'd been sleeping for many sichen. This level of weariness didn't seem altogether typical, even considering the events of the previous night.

When he shifted to sit up, a wave of queasiness washed over him. The pounding in his head had gotten worse rather than better. Heat prickled his spine and suddenly the room felt too warm. He threw off the blankets hastily. He desperately wanted some cool air.

The moment Liu Qingge put his bare feet on the floor, pain exploded all along his spiritual veins. It stole his breath in its ferocity; his meridians burned as though they were melting. His qi felt sluggish, like chilled honey, clogging his meridians even as the pathways flared white-hot in agony. He hadn't felt pain like this since-- since the Lingxi Caves ten years ago.

He was qi deviating.

"Fuck," he gasped as he realized what was happening. "Fuck!" Hadn't he earned a goddamn break after everything? Why now? What had prompted this? It wasn't like he'd been cultivating this time.

Liu Qingge knew qi deviations could sometimes be triggered by extreme emotional states and trauma, so maybe this wasn't so mysterious. But something felt strange about it too. He could feel a creeping darkness in his qi that was akin to the way a curse felt. He'd had his fair share of brushes with those over the years. The thought sent a bolt of panic through him. How would he have been cursed? He hadn't gone anywhere or done anything--

The cuff that Deng Rouhuan had put on his wrist. It was the only strange object he'd touched in weeks. It was the only explanation that made sense.

Liu Qingge's agony was interrupted by the arrival of another person. Surprisingly, it was Luo Binghe, apparently come to bring him a tray of supper. The man stopped short in the doorway, eyes wide at the sight of Liu Qingge nearly doubled over at the edge of the bed.

"Shishu?!" Luo Binghe sounded alarmed. Liu Qingge's only answer was a small whimper, words lost to the unrelenting pain. Luo Binghe rushed over, quickly setting the food aside, and laid tentative hands on Liu Qingge's shoulders. Liu Qingge yelped and twisted away. His skin was too sensitive to stand the pressure of someone else's hands.

"Hurts," he gasped. "Sorry." He didn't want Luo Binghe to get the wrong idea. He reached out and braced a palm on Luo Binghe's chest for some stability, finding the touch felt bearable this way. Binghe didn't move. Liu Qingge's fingers curled tightly in the demon lord's robes.

"Shishu, what's wrong? Is this your…?" He trailed off but Liu Qingge knew what he was asking, wanting to know if this was Xin Mo's doing. His injuries didn't seem to be the root cause but he supposed they probably weren't helping his situation, either.

Liu Qingge managed to shake his head. "Not entirely," he said through gritted teeth. Sweat was beginning to roll down his temples. "Qi deviation." He pointed to his wrist with his free hand, to the red line the cuff had left behind. Luo Binghe glanced down at the hand braced against his chest, saw the inflamed mark, and inhaled sharply. He looked back up at Liu Qingge quickly.

"This mark? I've seen something like this before. Was it a bracelet? A band on your wrist?" he asked, tone urgent.

Liu Qingge nodded. "Deng Rouhuan," he choked out. "Dampened my cultivation with it."

Luo Binghe's eyes went dark with realization. "Fuck," he cursed under his breath. Then he gave Liu Qingge an apologetic look. "I'm sorry for this, Shishu. This won't feel good. But you need to go to a healer."

And before Liu Qingge could protest, Luo Binghe had swept him up in his powerful arms, cradling him against his broad chest, one arm behind his knees and the other around his shoulders. The pain and pressure on his skin stole Liu Qingge's breath for long moments before he had enough air again to let out a pitiful whimper.

Luo Binghe was already moving toward the door. "I'm sorry," he said again, grimacing.

Liu Qingge couldn't form any words so he just turned his face into the other man's shoulder, trembling. Some corner of his brain was screaming about the fact that he was in Luo Binghe's arms, apparently being looked after, something he'd never thought would happen. If he were more lucid and not in agony, he would probably be blushing and flustered. Considering the state he was in, he didn't have much choice but to trust Binghe.

Black spots danced on the edges of Liu Qingge's vision. His tolerance for pain was quite high even among cultivators--he would never have survived those five years without it--but he could tell he was approaching his limit. It seemed they were outside now, and headed down the steps into the courtyard. He could hear several voices raised in alarm; one sounded like his mother. Liu Qingge felt a stab of guilt. He was going to give the poor woman heart failure after all the dramatic events of the last day or so. He wished he could apologize to her for all of it but his tongue was useless in his mouth, heavy and clumsy.

"Hang on, Shishu," Luo Binghe's voice murmured from above, deep and warm, vibrating his chest near Liu Qingge's ear. "You're going to be alright."

Liu Qingge wanted to believe him. He closed his eyes. Blissful unconsciousness claimed him.

Chapter 15

Notes:

I'm back with another update half-written at work on my phone again lolol my passion for this story is off the charts!

Lots of Binghe in this chapter, and a familiar face we haven't seen in a while <3 I hope you all enjoy!

See you in the comments!!

The first thing Liu Qingge was aware of was cool hands on his forehead and cheek. The touch was careful but businesslike. Next, a voice; it sounded familiar but his groggy mind struggled to place it. Then he realized with a rush of gratefulness that the searing pain he last remembered feeling had muted to a background hum, uncomfortable but manageable. He breathed deeply and slowly, keeping his eyes closed, for a long time. There was conversation nearby but he didn’t care to listen. He was just thankful it no longer felt like his meridians were collapsing.

Despite the reprieve from the agony, he still didn’t feel good. His head still throbbed and his stomach still turned with nausea. A faint earthy scent reached his nose, smelling of herbs; he couldn’t decide if it was an unsettling aroma for his delicate system or not, but he knew it meant he was in the healing ward of the manor. His memory was fuzzy but he was nearly certain he’d been carried here by Luo Binghe, like a distressed maiden in need of rescuing. Surely that wasn’t a fever dream. He almost groaned; how embarrassing. Yet, if Luo Binghe hadn’t shown up when he did, what would have happened? Liu Qingge didn’t want to think about it.

The sound of something grinding and clinking filled the room. After a few moments, Liu Qingge recognized it as someone using a mortar and pestle to grind herbs. The aroma floating on the air became stronger, spicier. It only took a few breaths for his nose to itch and then another moment for the nausea to crawl up his throat. His eyes flew open and he leaned toward the side of the narrow bed he was resting in, ready to heave up all of the nothing in his belly.

The grinding stopped and there were swift footsteps. A basin appeared just in time. When Liu Qingge was finished, he wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes with the back of his hand and scrunched his nose at the blackened substance he’d coughed up.

“What the fuck?” he gasped hoarsely.

The basin was set aside and those same cool hands pressed him gently back down to the pillow. “Easy, Shixiong,” the voice murmured. “Your body is trying to expel the curse.”

Liu Qingge huffed and then brought his gaze up to finally look at the person caring for him. He blinked in surprise. “Qingfang?”

Mu Qingfang tilted his head and smiled a little. “Hello, Qingge.” His expression turned rueful. “I wish we were meeting under better circumstances.”

“How did you get here? The sect is several days’ journey from here.” He didn't think he'd been unconscious for that long.

“I received an unexpected visitor when Luo Binghe suddenly popped into my infirmary through a demonic teleportation array,” Mu Qingfang explained with a hint of amusement in his soft voice. “He was very agitated and told me you were qi deviating. Of course, I wasted no time grabbing some supplies and coming here with him through the array.” He paused, one corner of his mouth quirking wryly. “It was altogether more pleasant than the last time I was whisked away somewhere with Lord Luo. What I found at our destination was equally concerning, however.”

Liu Qingge frowned. “Luo Binghe brought you here for me?”

Mu Qingfang inclined his head. “As I said, he was very agitated. He insisted I be the one to treat you, due to your ‘delicate circumstances.’ You told him about Xin Mo, apparently.”

“Yes,” Liu Qingge sighed. “Him and Shen Qingqiu both.”

Mu Qingfang hummed in what sounded like approval. “At any rate, I’ve stabilized your qi deviation for the time being. You’ve definitely been inflicted by some kind of curse, however. How are you feeling? I’m guessing somewhere between uncomfortable and shitty?”

“That sounds about right,” Liu Qingge muttered.

“I expect you to tell me immediately if you start experiencing any pain again,” Mu Qingfang said seriously, crossing his arms.

Liu Qingge grunted in agreement. “You can count on it.”

“Good.” Mu Qingfang sighed quietly and held out his hand. Liu Qingge gave him his wrist without protest, in a familiar exchange. He hissed in pain when he felt Mu Qingfang prodding at his spiritual veins.

“That hurts, damn you,” he said between gritted teeth.

Mu Qingfang immediately backed off, tsking in dissatisfaction. “No change. Your qi is still…congealed, for lack of a better word. All your meridians are inflamed and blocked. I can’t clear them without risking permanent damage and great pain to you.”

Liu Qingge sighed tiredly. Of course, why would anything ever be easy? “So, what’s your plan?”

“Well.” Mu Qingfang paused for a long moment, contemplative. “You have a few options but Lord Luo is better qualified to speak on two of them.” He pushed his stool back and stood up. “I’ll call for him. He stepped out for a bit of fresh air. He and Master Shen have been here helping me keep an eye on you for several sichen now. I ordered your parents and sister to bed. They were about to fall over from exhaustion and stress.”

Liu Qingge made a noise of surprise even as he felt worried about his family. He hoped his parents and Mingyan were actually getting some rest; it wouldn’t do for them to also fall ill just because of him. At the same time, his heart leapt at the thought that Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe had been here, watching over him. Perhaps they were just being good sectmates but the gesture meant a lot to him.

Mu Qingfang went to the door of the ward and stuck his head out, calling out for the other two men. Moments later, they were rushing into the room just behind the doctor as he retreated back toward the bed. Both of them looked relieved to see Liu Qingge awake and lucid.

“Shidi!” Shen Qingqiu hurried over to perch on the edge of the bed, reaching for Liu Qingge’s hand, cradling it carefully in his own. “We were so worried you wouldn’t wake up. You were in such pain.” The Qing Jing lord’s smooth brow furrowed deeply in concern, green eyes shadowed.

“Luckily, Mu-shishu knew just what to do to help you,” Luo Binghe murmured, his dark eyes taking in Liu Qingge’s prone form systematically, as if he were searching for anything visibly out of the ordinary, checking up on him.

“Thank you for bringing him,” Liu Qingge said shyly, unable to hold Luo Binghe’s gaze.

“Of course,” Binghe said matter-of-factly as if it had been the only course of action open to him. Maybe it had been. Maybe it had been the only thing that had made sense at the time. Either way, Liu Qingge was grateful to have his friend there. “Mu-shishu knows your health better than anyone else, after all.”

“I was just about to explain to Qingge about his options for dispelling the curse,” Mu Qingfang piped up. “But you are much more versed in this particular curse, Lord Luo. Would you care to explain?”

Luo Binghe dug in his sleeve and withdrew a silver band. Liu Qingge recognized it immediately as the cuff Deng Rouhuan had put on his wrist. The source of all his current woes, it seemed. Luo Binghe held it up. “This is a slave cuff from the demon realm,” he explained, his eyes flickering in momentary anger. “They’re meant to dampen the cultivation of whatever being they’re put on, as Shishu knows by first-hand experience. They can be modified to do other things, like track the location of a slave and prevent them from wandering too far away from their master.”

Liu Qingge shifted uncomfortably. “That one took my voice,” he said quietly. “It’s why I couldn’t call out for anyone.”

Luo Binghe’s fingers tightened around the cuff. Liu Qingge swore he could see the metal crumpling under his unforgiving grip. Mu Qingfang didn’t even twitch; no doubt he would have been informed about the recent goings-on, as they impacted his patient’s condition. Shen Qingqiu lowered his head, biting his lip harshly. His thumb swept over the back of Liu Qingge’s hand comfortingly.

Luo Binghe continued after a beat, his voice slightly strained. “The cuffs are programmed to unleash dark magic upon the death of the master, whether that be to drive the wearer to their death or put a curse on them. They usually can’t be removed but this one was weaker under the direction of a human than it might have otherwise been under the control of a demon, which allowed you to peel it off when Deng Rouhuan died. Luckily.”

Liu Qingge chewed on all this new information for a moment before asking, “The curses. Are they meant to kill the slave, then?”

“Eventually, yes,” Luo Binghe muttered, frowning. “Demons are territorial. They don’t want their slaves to be owned by anyone else even after they’re gone.”

Liu Qingge huffed in exasperation. “So I’m slowly dying, aren’t I?”

The answering silence was enough to tell him he’d cut to the heart of the matter. Great. Perfect. Just what he’d wanted out of a trip home. He sighed in defeat. “Fucking fantastic,” he muttered.

“Your family doesn’t know,” Mu Qingfang murmured from the stool where he’d seated himself again. “I didn’t want them to know before we’d discussed it with you and laid out your options.”

“So what are they?” Liu Qingge felt exhausted by all of this already. “Besides simply dying.”

“Your first option would be for me to treat you for the curse indefinitely,” Mu Qingfang said, folding his hands in his lap. “I do have medicines that can keep it at bay as long as they are taken regularly. But your cultivation would be locked up forever, inaccessible to you. And I’m afraid you’d be in a great deal of discomfort for the rest of your life.” He paused and looked Liu Qingge in the eye. “I have to be honest, Qingge. As your doctor, I don’t recommend this option.”

Honestly, Liu Qingge didn’t like the sound of it either. Never being able to use his cultivation again, to never feel his qi and the accompanying rush of strength and exhilaration, sounded awful. Almost like a death all its own. “What else?” he asked, his distaste clear in his voice.

Luo Binghe replied next. “I can offer two options, shishu, though I’m not sure you’ll like either. Firstly, I can give you some of my blood and use my parasites to remove the curse. It would be painful and--” Binghe paused and shifted uncomfortably. “Well. You know how heavenly demon blood works.”

Liu Qingge grimaced. “What’s the other option?”

Luo Binghe became sheepish and shy, flushing vibrantly and glancing down at the floor. “I can dual cultivate with you,” he said softly. “My seed has the same benefits as my blood, without the pain or the permanence.” He hesitated, then added, “I don’t want to presume, though, knowing you’ve just been through a traumatic experience.”

Liu Qingge was speechless. What a truly bewildering assortment of choices! None of them were ideal but two of them were sure to be unpleasant or downright painful. The third and last option though…would it really be the worst thing? He'd already let himself imagine what it would be like to kiss Luo Binghe, after all. He flushed and resisted the urge to fidget nervously. He glanced at Shen Qingqiu.

"And you're fine with this, if I were to choose dual cultivation with your husband?" It had to be asked, for Liu Qingge's own peace of mind, if nothing else.

Shen Qingqiu turned earnest green eyes on him. "Yes. Binghe and I have already discussed it and we both agree that your health and wellbeing is the most important thing."

Right. It would be an obligation, nothing more. Liu Qingge reminded himself of the realities of the situation. He couldn't afford to buy into any delusions about feelings. He nodded once and glanced at Mu Qingfang, who was giving him a look somewhere between knowing and almost pitying. Liu Qingge glared for a moment before asking, "What do you suggest, Mu-shidi?"

Mu Qingfang held up his hands, palms out. "I really can't make this decision for you, Qingge. I think you're smart enough to know what's going to be in your own best interests here."

Liu Qingge scowled but he couldn't deny his friend was right. He already knew which option he was leaning toward and if he hated himself for it a tiny bit, no one had to know but him. He heaved a sigh. "If I was a better man, I'd choose one of the painful options," he muttered, pulling his hand free from Shen Qingiu's so he could cross his arms over his chest defensively. "But I'm tired of pain."

The other three all seemed to let out a collective breath of something like relief. No doubt they had been expecting him to make this difficult but honestly, he just didn't have the energy. Shen Qingqiu patted Liu Qingge's knee. "It's fine, Shidi," he said gently. "You're always sacrificing for others. You don't need to unduly suffer if there are other ways to accomplish the same goal."

Liu Qingge didn't say anything else for several moments, chewing his bottom lip agitatedly. Finally, he closed his eyes and said, "I will accept Luo Binghe's offer of dual cultivation."

He would just have to accept the consequences of whatever came after, whether it meant being awkward in the same room with Luo Binghe forever or losing Shen Qingiu's friendship. It wasn't like heartbreak was unfamiliar to him.

Mu Qingfang clapped his hands once and stood up. "Good!" he said briskly. "Now that that's settled, we can make preparations." He glanced at Liu Qingge. "Where would you feel most comfortable, Shixiong?"

Liu Qingge hadn't thought this far ahead. He knew instantly he wouldn't be comfortable in the quarters shared by the married couple, interrupting the sanctity of their space. His own room wouldn't be any good, either. The memory of what happened there was still entirely too fresh. No, somewhere neutral would be best, with no attached memories or associations.

He lifted a shoulder in a shrug. "Here is fine. Or a guest room, maybe."

Mu Qingfang's brows furrowed in concern. "Are you sure?" Next to him, Luo Binghe looked disappointed.

"Yes, I'm sure," Liu Qingge couldn't help snapping, frustrated.

"Alright, alright." The doctor held up his hands placatingly again. "It just seems very impersonal, is all."

Liu Qingge opened his mouth to make a biting reply but Luo Binghe spoke before he could. "I can understand why Liu-shishu wouldn't want to use his own rooms after recent events, but is he sure he doesn't want to come to mine and Shizun's rooms?" Binghe's eyes were fixed on Liu Qingge, dark and intent.

Liu Qingge spared a moment to imagine it: being drawn down into their bed among the blankets that smelled like them, feeling welcomed and cherished and maybe even…loved. It sounded so nice, he could admit that to himself. But would he truly be welcome? He couldn't imagine the shame of having to remove himself from their rooms afterward. After all, they'd merely agreed this would be necessary for his health. That wasn't an admission to a place in their relationship or their shared life, despite the recent tentative flirting and heated staring. Having to pull himself away from what he was beginning to think he actually might want would hurt far too much.

Liu Qingge shook his head. "I'm certain," he said firmly, even as his heart cracked a bit more.

Luo Binghe sighed softly. "If that's what Shishu wants. I won't push you. But we should find a guest room. A proper bed would be more suitable."

Liu Qingge couldn't help the way he flushed at the implications of that statement.

Mu Qingfang was heading for the door. He caught Shen Qingiu by the shoulder as he did so. "I will locate a room, then," he declared. "Perhaps Lord Luo and Liu-shixiong would like some time to discuss the particulars?"

Luo Binghe inclined his head. "Yes, that would be good."

Shen Qingqiu stretched up to kiss his husband on the cheek, smiling softly. "I'll go with Mu-shidi," he murmured. "Take the time you need."

Liu Qingge watched Luo Binghe watch his husband leave the room with besotted eyes, his stomach clenching uncomfortably. How could he ever imagine there would possibly be space for him somewhere in their relationship? He should know better than to get his hopes up. Shen Qingqiu hadn't chosen him, after all.

Once they were alone, Luo Binghe slowly took a seat on the stool Mu Qingfang had been occupying. His manner was a bit stiff, his expression a bit awkward. Liu Qingge realized this was the first time they'd been alone with each other for over a year.

"You really don't have to do this for me," Liu Qingge found himself saying in a stilted rush, eager to smooth over the embarrassed air in the room.

Luo Binghe held up a hand. "No one is forcing me, Shishu. I wouldn't have offered if I found the idea distasteful. So just banish that thought from your mind."

"I just don't want to cause issues within your marriage," Liu Qingge said, looking anywhere but at Luo Binghe, twisting his hands nervously.

Luo Binghe huffed but it sounded fond. When he spoke, his voice carried the sound of a smile. "You won't, I can assure you. But just let me and Shizun handle that, alright? I want to focus on you."

Liu Qingge's breath caught. "Okay," he murmured finally, some of the tension leaving his shoulders.

"I need to know exactly what you don't want me to do before we get started," Binghe said then, tone careful.

Liu Qingge flushed. He hadn't had enough sex to have much true idea of the things he liked and disliked. Deng Rouhuan represented his best reference for things he didn't want to experience again, at least not so soon. He bit his lip and hesitated, looking down at his hands in his lap. "I think…no spanking. Please."

"Alright," Luo Binghe agreed easily. "Anything else?" Liu Qingge shook his head shyly. Luo Binghe seemed surprised. "Nothing else?"

"I…haven't been with anyone in a long time," Liu Qingge admitted, hunching his shoulders defensively. Not since several months after Deng Rouhuan had raped him and he had tried to erase the experience from his mind by fooling around with a couple other disciples. When that strategy had been unsuccessful, he'd focused solely on his cultivation instead.

"We'll take it slow, if you want," Luo Binghe assured him. "We can also stop whenever you want, if you need a break. You're free to tell me how this goes, Shishu."

Liu Qingge took a deep breath, hating how it shook. Right, this wasn't like being raped, he reminded himself. This would be consensual, or as consensual as it could be considering the constraints of the curse, and he had the power to change how things went. It brought a measure of comfort but did little to quell his nerves. "Thank you," he said quietly.

"Of course, Shishu," Binghe murmured in reply. "I could never live with myself if I knew how to help you but stood by and did nothing. It's the least I can do." The unspoken after everything was loud and clear.

Liu Qingge supposed he should be grateful that Luo Binghe wanted to make amends somehow for their prior conflicts, no matter how unconventional the means, but he still couldn't help but wish that this was happening because Binghe wanted it, wanted him, and not out of some perceived debt or obligation.

The door opening interrupted any further exchange. Mu Qingfang stuck his head in, looking apologetic. "Sorry to interrupt but I located a room, so any time you two are ready…"

Luo Binghe nodded and looked at Liu Qingge, his eyes dark, a bit heated and perhaps a bit tender. "Ready, Shishu?"

"As much as I'll ever be," Liu Qingge answered, throwing the blankets back.

Before he could even attempt to stand, Binghe had once more scooped him up in his strong arms, much to Liu Qingge's embarrassment. He flushed as he wrapped his arms around Luo Binghe's neck. "I could have walked, you know," he groused.

Luo Binghe chuckled. "Maybe but you're pretty when you blush, Shishu," he teased.

Liu Qingge blushed even more hotly, hiding his face against Luo Binghe's shoulder with a groan as they headed for the door. This man was going to be the death of him.

Chapter 16

Notes:

So I really hope ya'll can live with the way this turned out. I took this in a more realistic direction for LQG's circumstances, everything considered. This is something of a bridge chapter, preluding some more difficult conversations in the near future. But I think this chapter also illustrates that LQG's journey is more going to be a winding path rather than a straight road, a process that involves all the people around him and that he and others are inevitably going to make mistakes. It's a human journey, imperfect but profound nonetheless.

I think I was feeling LQG's muddled mindset while I wrote this, considering it took me so much longer than my recent pace of updating to get this finished. But here it is, at any rate. Thanks for your patience <3

Hope to see you in the comments!

The room Mu Qingfang had secured for them was in the rear courtyard; Liu Qingge averted his eyes from the door of his own rooms as Luo Binghe strode by briskly, cradling the War God against his warm chest. The first trickle of unease worked its way down Liu Qingge's spine. Unbidden, memories of Deng Rouhuan's rough hands came back to him, the humiliation and fear they'd brought, both times. Logically, he knew this wouldn't be like that; Luo Binghe had promised that Liu Qingge had the ultimate say about what would happen. He wanted to imagine that dual cultivation with the demon lord would be a positive experience, even an enjoyable one, but the memories of Deng Rouhuan were intrusive. The man's specter seemed to lurk around every corner, peering through every window. Liu Qingge squirmed a bit in Luo Binghe's arms, uncomfortable. But it wasn't until Luo Binghe had mounted the steps up to the porch and Liu Qingge saw Mu Qingfang opening the door to the spare room that it fully hit him what was about to happen.

"Stop, stop, please," he said suddenly, voice trembling, on the precipice of panic. He pulled at the collar of Luo Binghe's robes to further get his attention.

Liu Qingge had thought he was ready, that he could put on a stiff upper lip and get through this, just get it over with, even if it turned out to not be enjoyable. It seemed he was wrong.

Luo Binghe halted immediately, looking down at Liu Qingge. His expression was furrowed with concern, his dark eyes reflecting worry. "Shishu? What is it?" he asked gently.

Liu Qingge was shaking in the other man's hold. "I can't do this," he whispered. "I'm sorry, I thought I could but it's too soon and--"

"It's alright, Shishu," Luo Binghe said calmly. "You don't need to apologize."

Mu Qingfang appeared at Liu Qingge's side. "Deep breaths, Qingge," he murmured steadily. "You're alright, you're safe."

Several moments of quiet passed during which Liu Qingge focused on his breathing and slowing his heart rate. His body still trembled and Luo Binghe shifted him to rest more fully against his chest, giving him a brief comforting squeeze.

Mu Qingfang touched Liu Qingge's shoulder lightly. "Shall we sit down and discuss what happens next?"

When Liu Qingge nodded, they moved into the front room ahead, just past the open door, and found cushions laying out they could settle on.

"Please put me down," Liu Qingge murmured and Luo Binghe did as asked, carefully setting Liu Qingge on his bare feet, though his hands hovered for several long moments in case Liu Qingge's legs gave out on him. Mu Qingfang steadied Liu Qingge, taking his elbow gently and guiding him to a cushion before seating himself right beside his patient. Luo Binghe found a seat a respectful distance away, not too close nor too far, obviously not wanting to crowd Liu Qingge but perhaps also not wanting to send the wrong message by moving too far away. Shen Qingqiu brought up the rear, quietly closing the door behind himself before settling down beside his husband, looking solemn.

Liu Qingge wanted the ground to open up and swallow him. He buried his face in his hands. "I'm so embarrassed," he groaned.

Mu Qingfang rubbed between his shoulder blades. "No need for that," he said quietly. "You've been through a lot lately. No one would blame you for reacting this way."

"But what about the curse?" Liu Qingge asked miserably.

"I'll treat you for it for the time being," Mu Qingfang told him as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "It'll be somewhat unpleasant like I mentioned, but it will give you time to think and come to terms with the idea of dual cultivation." He paused and when he continued, his voice was rueful and apologetic. "I should have made it clear earlier this was also something you could choose as a temporary measure. It was remiss of me and I'm very sorry for it."

Liu Qingge straightened, letting his hands fall into his lap. He shook his head and glanced at his friend. "No, it's alright," he said with a sigh. "I should have thought of it myself." It seemed so obvious now. Liu Qingge couldn't help but feel a bit stupid.

Mu Qingfang tsked gently. His fingers continued to rub soothingly between Liu Qingge's shoulders. "Don't blame yourself, Qingge. This whole thing has to be overwhelming for you."

Liu Qingge let one corner of his lips quirk upward into a humorless smile. "It's not what I had in mind when I thought of a trip home."

Mu Qingfang snorted quietly. "I'm sure. It's not what I wanted for you either when I mentioned a vacation."

"I'm going to need an actual vacation after all this is over and the curse is broken," Liu Qingge muttered.

"I'm sure Zhangmen-shixiong will gladly allow it," Mu Qingfang said with a small chuckle.

Their familiar banter helped Liu Qingge relax, his shoulders loosening and fingers uncurling. A large portion of his anxiety drained away. Embarrassment still curled in his belly, though, and he couldn’t help feeling bashful when he finally looked over at the couple sitting quietly nearby. “I’m sorry for all of this.” He felt the need to apologize again, avoiding Luo Binghe’s eyes in embarrassment. “I’m not usually so indecisive.”

Shen Qingqiu looked vaguely troubled when he replied, “I wouldn’t say you’re being indecisive, Shidi. You’ve been through a traumatic experience literally yesterday. It’s little wonder you need more time to think about things. If anything, I feel as if we pushed you into something you’re clearly not ready for.”

Liu Qingge couldn’t help but huff in self-directed frustration. “It shouldn't have been a problem. It’s hardly the first time I’ve been in this situation.”

The words had slipped out unthinkingly. He didn’t realize how they could be interpreted until a shocked silence followed them. Mu Qingfang was the first to speak, venturing softly, “What do you mean by that, Shixiong?”

“W-well, not with the curse, I mean,” Liu Qingge stammered, immediately making things worse. “That’s new.”

“You’ve been assaulted before?” Luo Binghe asked sharply, cutting to the heart of the manner. His brows were pulled down in an expression that was reminiscent of the one Liu Yichen had worn the prior afternoon as he learned his son had been raped; Liu Qingge thought he could perhaps correctly interpret the demon lord’s version in the same manner, one of angered and outraged grief and devastation. He certainly didn’t feel that Luo Binghe was angry with him, just as he had felt the same with his father.

Another beat of silence before Liu Qingge nodded hesitantly, defeated. He hadn’t meant to have to tell this story again so soon but perhaps it was better that these three know. Mu Qingfang had a medical interest and the other two were probably bound to find out at some point anyway, whether through deduction on their own or some errant slip of his own tongue at a later date. Might as well get it all out there at once.

“Deng Rouhuan raped me when I was seventeen,” he muttered, gaze sliding away from all three of his companions to fix on a point on the floor. He wondered if the words would ever get any easier to say. Hopefully, after this conversation, he wouldn’t ever have to say them again. After a moment of detached reflection, he thought perhaps this was the very reason he was doubly upset and panicked in the present; all that unresolved trauma from twenty years ago was finally catching up to him, being given voice, and then just compounded with more trauma from the other night. Gods, what a mess. He was a mess.

“That absolute, unimaginable fucking bastard!” Shen Qingqiu burst out, startling all of them a bit with his forcefulness. His fan was gripped tightly in his fist, knuckles white. His green eyes blazed. Shen Qingqiu didn’t often curse, so when he did it always meant he felt very strongly about whatever topic was being spoken of. Liu Qingge’s chest warmed knowing Shen Qingqiu was so outraged on his behalf. Still, he raised a hand to stave off a potential tirade.

“It was twenty years ago, Shen Qingqiu,” he said quietly. “And the man is dead. You don’t need to get angry.”

Shen Qingqiu huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, his fan agitatedly tapping his opposite shoulder. “That doesn’t matter to me, Shidi. He wronged you and hurt you. That matters to me. You matter to me.”

Liu Qingge flushed. He wasn’t sure Shen Qingqiu had ever said anything like that so directly to him before. “Thank you,” he murmured, a bit overwhelmed and at a loss for anything else to say.

Luo Binghe’s expression was stormy, his hands balled into fists on his thighs. When he spoke, his voice was low and dangerous, even if he seemed to mostly be muttering to himself. “I want to resurrect that fucker and rip his skin off and throw him to the beasts in the Abyss so they can tear him limb--”

Mu Qingfang shuddered. “A fitting punishment, Lord Luo,” he interrupted. “Please spare us the gory details, however.” He turned to Liu Qingge. “Shixiong, I’ll have a few questions for you regarding this…incident but we can talk about it in private later.”

Liu Qingge swallowed nervously before murmuring, “You can ask them now. If I am eventually to be intimate with Luo Binghe, he should hear what I have to say, right?”

“Well, I suppose so,” Mu Qingfang replied slowly, uncertainly, his eyes skipping over to the demon lord.

Luo Binghe had forced his fingers to relax and uncurl, sighing and letting his shoulders drop. His expression gentled at the same time. “I don’t want to seem nosy but if there’s anything pertinent for making Shishu’s experience with me less uncomfortable, I’d like to know.” He was still seemingly troubled by Liu Qingge’s list of exactly one thing he didn’t wish to be done to him during sex.

Mu Qingfang looked back to Liu Qingge for confirmation. When Liu Qingge nodded, he took a deep breath and asked, “Were you injured during the encounter, Shixiong?”

It took Liu Qingge several moments to reply, during which he had to scrape together his courage and take several steady, calming breaths. He still twisted his fingers together in his lap when he spoke. “I had bruises around my wrists and hips and my knees were scraped raw. He, um.” Liu Qingge had to pause and clear his throat. “He made me bleed.”

Shen Qingqiu made a wounded noise across the table. Mu Qingfang closed his eyes for a long moment, murmuring under his breath what sounded like a prayer. When he opened his eyes again, they were full of grief. “Were you treated by a healer afterward?”

Liu Qingge shook his head. “No,” he whispered. “I never said anything to anyone until a couple of days ago when I told my sister.”

“No one?” Mu Qingfang sounded heartbroken. Liu Qingge shook his head again, biting his lip. “So I suppose you wouldn’t know if there were any other internal injuries,” Mu Qingfang mused.

Liu Qingge lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “If there were, I didn’t notice. I felt alright within a few days.” He had always supposed his cultivation had taken care of anything wrong in short order.

Mu Qingfang’s brows were pinched as he asked, “And did you ever have any sexual encounters after this point?”

“There were two disciples I was intimate with,” Liu Qingge murmured, keeping his gaze fixed firmly on Mu Qingfang. If he glanced at either of the other two people in the room, he thought he would surely lose his nerve and die of mortification on the spot. “Within the first six months or so after.”

“Did you experience any pain or discomfort with penetration or intercourse of any kind?” Mu Qingfang asked next, managing to keep his voice level and businesslike even as his eyes reflected a tangle of emotions.

Liu Qingge shook his head again, cheeks hot. “No.”

“Good. That’s good.” Mu Qingfang heaved a sigh. “It sounds like everything healed properly, in that case. That means you shouldn’t expect undue discomfort once the initial penetration is past.” The doctor’s gaze swung over to settle on Luo Binghe. “I expect Lord Luo to know that adequate preparation will be required, regardless.”

Luo Binghe nodded briskly. “Of course, Mu-shishu,” he agreed seriously. “I would never want to hurt Liu-shishu.” He sounded earnest, like he truly meant it. It made something tight in Liu Qingge’s chest ease just a bit.

Mu Qingfang nodded smartly before turning to look at Liu Qingge again. “You won’t have easy access to your cultivation before the curse is broken,” he said softly, eyes apologetic. “So keep in mind that you won’t have nearly as much endurance, strength, or control over your body. Don’t push yourself too much, in case you’ve forgotten what it’s like to not be one of the most powerful cultivators wandering around this land.”

Liu Qingge huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. Truthfully, he had little memory of being without cultivation. He had shown a natural affinity for it at such a young age that he had almost no sense of the world without his spiritual power. It would be disorienting to have to function without it, to say the least, like being blind and deaf. But perhaps this would be a good chance to practice his skills without the benefits of his cultivation. It seemed one never could anticipate how they might be stripped of their abilities at a moment’s notice. He would never make that mistake again, hard-learned as it was. Training could also be a convenient distraction from everything that had happened.

“With your consent, I will inform your family about your condition,” Mu Qingfang continued. “Unless you’d rather…?”

“No,” Liu Qingge murmured, ducking his head. “I’d rather not. I’d appreciate it if you would, Qingfang.” The very thought of having to have those heavy conversations with his parents and sister was exhausting.

“Alright, Qingge,” Mu Qingfang agreed easily. “I’ll do that, then. Would you like to go back to the healing ward or your rooms and get some rest?”

Neither option was appealing. “Actually,” Liu Qingge said slowly, “I’d like to stay here. For now.” Eventually, he would have to return to his own chambers, but that could wait. He wasn’t quite ready yet.

An expression of understanding crossed Mu Qingfang’s features. “I’ll tell the others where to find you. No doubt they’ll want to visit you.” He paused and smiled a bit, rueful. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure they stay away for a while so you can rest.”

“Thank you.” Liu Qingge felt a tad guilty for not wanting to see anyone right away but he was still feeling quietly humiliated about the recent turn of events. Having to look his parents in the eye and see their worry and grief wouldn’t be beneficial just then. He could barely manage his own emotions and reactions; he certainly couldn’t handle anyone else’s until he was less exhausted and overwhelmed. “Can you please speak to my disciple, as well?” he requested. “He’ll be worried too.”

Mu Qingfang’s smile turned gentle and he inclined his head. “Of course. He should be easy enough to track down. He was working out his frustrations at the training grounds earlier.”

“Of course he was.” Liu Qingge shook his head fondly. He could easily imagine Yang Yixuan savagely attacking the practice dummies. The young man had to be beside himself; he’d been obviously afraid and shaken up when he’d burst in on the scene the other night and he hadn’t seen his shizun again after that. His last sight of Liu Qingge had been one of his mentor traumatized and covered in blood. It had to have been beyond shocking to witness.

“He takes after you,” Mu Qingfang teased before patting his friend’s knee and getting up, reaching out a hand to assist Liu Qingge to his feet. “Come. Let’s get you settled.”

At the same time, Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe scrambled to their feet. “We’ll leave you for the time being, Shidi,” Shen Qingqiu said. He still looked upset, brows drawn and the corners of his lips turned down in a slight frown. He seemed almost at a loss for words, in a rare instance. Beside him, Luo Binghe’s features had grown stormy once more, his fingers curled tightly into his cuffs as if he were struggling to restrain himself from smashing some unwitting piece of furniture in anger. It was a familiar expression, one which Liu Qingge had seen directed at him every day for five whole years. Now it was disconcerting to know it wasn’t there because of him but rather, on his behalf. That thought would take some adjusting but the underlying aggression in the set of Luo Binghe’s shoulders was easily recognizable. Liu Qingge was willing to bet the demon lord would find his own way to the training grounds to work off some steam as soon as he stepped out the door.

Liu Qingge studied them both for a moment, a curl of fondness wrapping around his heart. “Will I see you both later?” he couldn’t help asking hopefully.

Shen Qingqiu’s expression cleared a bit and his mouth suddenly curved in a faint smile. His eyes were impossibly gentle. “Of course, Qingge,” he said softly.

“If Shishu needs us for anything, he need only ask,” Luo Binghe added somewhat gruffly though earnestly.

Liu Qingge flushed. “Thank you.” The couple exited in a flurry of robes and long hair. Liu Qingge watched them go, sighing. “I’m so confused,” he confessed suddenly to the room at large. “I don’t know what they want from me.”

Mu Qingfang slid an arm around his shoulders to guide him through the doorway into the bedroom. He hummed thoughtfully. “What do you want from them?”

“I don’t entirely know,” Liu Qingge muttered, allowing himself to be steered to the bed and bustled down to sit on the edge. He looked up at his friend, feeling a bit lost and entirely out of his depth. It must have shown on his face because Mu Qingfang smiled.

“Something else to think about, eh?” he quipped before chuckling when Liu Qingge groaned in response. A moment later, he grew more serious again and continued, “I’ll come by later with your medicines, after I’ve had a chance to speak with everyone. We can see if you’re up for any visitors then.”

Liu Qingge nodded. “Okay.” He shot Mu Qingfang an apologetic look. “I’m sorry for pulling you away from your duties at the sect,” he said quietly, shoulders slumping. He wasn’t used to making demands of so many people’s time and efforts, even if none of this had been his express request.

Mu Qingfang squeezed Liu Qingge’s shoulder. “My head disciple is more than capable of handling things while I’m here with you. Zhangmen-shixiong would have ordered me to go anyhow and you know it. At any rate, I’ve since sent him a message and informed him I may be gone for a while, treating you. He knows where I am and what I’m doing and that you’re not dead and that’s all that matters for now.”

“As long as you don’t end up in trouble on my behalf,” Liu Qingge muttered.

“I won’t,” Mu Qingfang said firmly, fully confident he had the sect leader’s blessing to be exactly where he was. “You’ve apologized too many times today, Qingge. Please know that none of this is your fault. No one is angry with you.” Liu Qingge nodded mutely. Mu Qingfang gave his shoulder another squeeze before letting go. “Now, I’ll leave you to some peace and quiet.”

They said goodbye and then Liu Qingge was alone in the unfamiliar room. It was laid out the same as his own chambers but the furnishings were standard and minimal, without any of the personal touches that came with long-term habitation by one person. It was impersonal and blank, exactly as he’d wanted. No memories were attached to this room, no lingering emotions. It should be easier to rest and clear his mind and settle his anxieties.

With a deep breath, he settled down to meditate.

Chapter 17

Notes:

Happy Lunar New Year to everyone!! May you have a prosperous year ❤️

In this chapter, Qingge practices some self-love and begins trying to adapt to not having access to his cultivation. Tags are updated.

See you all in the comments!

Mu Qingfang came back to the spare room a sichen later with a tray of supper and several bottles of medicine, gently interrupting Liu Qingge's meditation to explain the treatments he'd brought and inquire if he wished to see anyone or be left to his solitude. With a small pang of guilt, Liu Qingge replied that he would prefer to keep to himself until morning. Mu Qingfang simply nodded, said he would inform Liu Qingge's family, and wished him a goodnight before leaving just as quietly and unobtrusively as he had arrived.

Liu Qingge picked at the food but truthfully he wasn't very hungry. He covered the dishes back up and dutifully took a dosage of the various medicines, something he would have to do every morning and every night for the foreseeable future, before settling back into meditation for several more sichen.

When Liu Qingge finally surfaced from his extended meditation, it was fully dark and the manor was quiet. He was tired so he slipped under the covers and settled into the mattress. This bed lacked the softness of his own, not having been slept in nearly as often. Despite the unfamiliarity, he fell asleep quickly and slept deeply.

In what must have been the early hours of the morning, he dreamed, something that had been uncommon for him once he'd surpassed mid-level cultivation. His mind was full of warm skin and loose, wild curls. When Liu Qingge woke, there was a buzz beneath his skin and he was hard between his legs for the first time in…he didn't know how long.

Mu Qingfang had said that as long as the curse dampened his cultivation, Liu Qingge wouldn't have the same control over his body that he was used to. He would tire more easily, be injured more easily. He would have a legitimate need for food and sleep. He supposed that slipping of control also extended to his body's natural and involuntary reactions to stimulus, as well. Which probably also meant that he would be unable to simply will his hardness away like he might have done otherwise.

It was before dawn, the room still nearly dark and murky. The servants would be starting their tasks for the day already but it would be at least another incense time before any of the family and their guests would begin stirring. That ought to be plenty of time to take care of his issue.

Liu Qingge pushed the covers down past his hips and then hesitated, his fingers hovering near the ties of his sleeping robe. He hadn't done this in a long time and he couldn't help but be a bit off-put by the situation, unused to not having the control his high-level cultivation provided. Even though he was alone, he found his cheeks heating anyway. It just seemed like such a…mortal thing to do. He had spent the better part of the last two decades celibate, and even refraining from the touch of his own hand most of the time. Wasn't this bound to be somewhat awkward?

Then again, since it had been so long and considering what would have to eventually happen to dispel the curse, perhaps it was a good opportunity to become reacquainted with pleasure, the feeling of being touched, even if it was his own fingers for now. He could proceed entirely at his own pace without any outside pressure or watching eyes. This was an entirely safe place to enjoy his own body for a little while.

It seemed his body was warming to the thought, his cock twitching a bit. Liu Qingge bit his lip and loosened the ties of his robe, parting it. His nipples immediately pebbled in the cool air and gooseflesh rose along his torso. The night had been chilly and the brazier had long since burned out. He rubbed a palm absently across his chest, shivering.

He gasped in a jolt of surprised pleasure when his fingertips brushed a nipple. Liu Qingge had honestly forgotten how good that could feel. He spent a few long moments circling the nub, thoughts empty and simply enjoying the firm muscle of his pectoral. Finally, he gently pinched his nipple, tugging and rolling it between his fingers.

The pleasure was immediate and went straight to his cock. Liu Qingge let out a heavy breath, his other hand sliding down to the apex of his thighs to take his hard cock in hand. The swollen head was already slick and sensitive; he gasped when he swiped his thumb over the leaking slit. It certainly hadn't taken much to get him worked up.

When he stroked himself from root to tip the first time, Liu Qingge couldn't help but let out a soft moan. It felt heavenly, pleasure tingling along his nerves and racing under his skin, his embarrassment dissipating as the pleasure took over. Before long, his strokes had quickened along with his breath, until he'd found a rhythm he liked. A little twist and a swipe across the tip every time soon had his toes curling. His knees drew up and fell apart, heels planting in the mattress so his hips could buck up more smoothly until he was fucking his fist and moaning breathlessly.

He certainly no longer felt the chill in the room.

The pleasure built and tension coiled tighter in Liu Qingge's belly until it finally broke and he found release, spurting all over his still stroking fingers and the hard planes of his abdomen. His breath hitched on a long soft moan. Gradually, his muscles relaxed and he slumped down into the mattress, trying to catch his breath. His cock was sensitive now and he let go, raising his hand and studying the strings of pearly white come on his fingers. That was one thing he'd never much cared for about sex: the mess.

Wrinkling his nose, he pushed up from the bed with his clean hand and stood on shaky legs to make his way over to the bathing section of the room. No way in hell was he not properly cleaning up after that.

Liu Qingge bathed and then wrapped himself in his sleeping robe once more, realizing he didn’t have any other garments to choose from. In the flurry of the previous day, he’d neglected to ask for clothes to be brought to him. He was pressing water from his long hair, swept forward over his shoulder, with a towel when there was a faint shuffling outside the front door, as if someone was hesitant about making their presence known, debating on whether to leave without knocking. Liu Qingge sighed and called out, “Just come in!”

The shuffling stopped and a moment later the door opened. Yang Yixuan stepped inside the front room, looking sheepish, not quite able to meet Liu Qingge’s eyes. In his arms was a bundle of fabric; Liu Qingge recognized his Bai Zhan whites and instantly felt a rush of gratitude. His disciple offered the robes, holding them out as he moved closer. “I thought you would want clean clothes today, Shizun,” he murmured so quietly Liu Qingge could barely hear him.

Liu Qingge set the towel aside and took the robes. Even his boots were in the bundle, cleaned and polished. The ornamental buckles on his belts and his silver vambraces gleamed, as well. Yang Yixuan must have kept himself busy with such menial tasks recently. Liu Qingge felt a press of emotion in his throat, his grip tightening on the items in his arms. How worried had Yang Yixuan been? Swallowing hard, Liu Qingge looked up at his disciple.

“Thank you for bringing these,” he said, his voice just the slightest bit rough. “I see you polished everything.”

Yang Yixuan still wouldn’t look at him, dark eyes fixed on the floor. “I didn’t know what else to do,” he confessed softly, voice breaking.

Liu Qingge’s heart broke a bit too. He knew what helplessness felt like, the bitter tang of it in the back of one’s throat and the quake of it in one’s hands. Master and disciple stood silently for several long moments, Liu Qingge’s gaze taking in the young man’s slumped shoulders and averted eyes with concern. Something was wrong and if he didn’t address it now, it would only fester. He turned away to set the bundle of his things on the corner of the bed and then moved to the low table in the front room, placing a gentle hand on Yang Yixuan’s shoulder to guide him in the same direction.

“Come, sit with me,” he murmured.

They each sat down across from one another at the corner of the table. Yang Yixuan folded his hands politely in his lap, keeping his chin down. He had the bearing of a disciple who had done something wrong or broken some sect rule and was now trying to show contriteness in his master’s presence. It was so unlike his normal energetic and enthusiastic manner that it was bordering on disturbing. Even when the boy had actually done something worthy of reprimand, he wasn’t this subdued.

“What’s wrong?” Liu Qingge asked bluntly. “Why are you acting like you’re expecting punishment?”

Yang Yixuan stiffened. His hands tightened in his lap, flexing before relaxing again. When he replied, his voice carried a distinct note of resignation. “Shizun should punish this disciple. This one failed to protect Shizun.”

Liu Qingge sighed. “Failed to protect me from a man who used demonic tricks to sneak into the manor without alerting anyone?” he demanded, his voice pitching a bit higher in exasperation. “Failed to protect me from a man who got past dozens of highly trained sentries and guards?”

Yang Yixuan cringed. “Yes.”

“You think you failed because you weren’t first through the door?” Liu Qingge muttered, tapping his fingertips on the tabletop. “Do you realize how absurd this all sounds?”

His disciple hung his head. “My room is right next door,” he said miserably. “How did I not hear anything until it was nearly too late? Isn’t that failure?”

“Yang Yixuan, look at me, please,” Liu Qingge requested, his tone much less severe. He waited until the young man had drug his eyes up to look at him reluctantly. “Did you hear anyone blaming the sentries for not realizing anything was wrong despite the fact that their alarm arrays hadn’t been tripped?” Yang Yixuan mutely shook his head. “I certainly don’t blame them,” Liu Qingge continued. “So why would I blame you?”

Yang Yixuan’s expression turned complicated and his brows furrowed tightly. “As your head disciple, part of my duty is to protect you, Shizun--”

“Yes, and you have always taken it very seriously,” Liu Qingge interrupted, holding the young man’s gaze steadily. “There wasn’t much commotion at all until I had already struck Deng Rouhuan. There was nothing for you to hear until then. The only reason Luo Binghe was through the door before you is because he’s wickedly fast. I know that better than anyone. I don’t blame you and I’m not angry with you. Perhaps a little exasperated that you think I would be.”

Yang Yixaun huffed a tiny laugh, the very type of reaction Liu Qingge had hoped to get from him. A bit of the tension and gloom in the room dissipated as his disciple’s mouth quirked in a small smile. Unfortunately, it didn’t last long before Yang Yixuan’s expression dropped again, looking for all the world like a sad puppy. “I was afraid,” he admitted in a whisper, glancing away again. “There was so much blood and I was so scared you were hurt…” He trailed off, swallowing hard and blinking rapidly for a moment.

Liu Qingge felt his heart swell with fondness. When he had first agreed to take Yang Yixuan on as his disciple, he never could have imagined how deep their bond would grow. He reached out to squeeze the young man’s shoulder reassuringly.

“Mu-shishu told me about the curse,” Yang Yixuan said then, turning back to Liu Qingge, studying his face. “Are you going to be alright, Shizun?” Unease was plain across his features, setting his lips in a grim line and worry in his eyes.

“Yes, I’ll be fine,” Liu Qingge assured him with a faint sigh. “Mu Qingfang has the situation well in hand.”

Yang Yixuan nodded, pursing his lips for a moment before saying, “If this one can help Shizun in any way, please tell me. Mu-shishu mentioned your cultivation would be mostly blocked for now.”

Liu Qingge’s lips tilted in a lopsided smile. “Despite my cultivation being largely inaccessible, I expect to still continue our training as usual.” It wouldn’t do to become lax just because he wouldn’t be able to perform all the same manuevers; basic sword forms and non-cultivation techniques were still the basis of any skilled swordsman’s repertoire. For the first time since the curse diagnosis, Liu Qingge considered that though he may be unable to wield Cheng Luan to its full potential, he could still hold the weapon in his hands and swing it like any other sword.

Yang Yixuan finally relaxed, most of the tension in his shoulders easing. His expression lightened too, and he returned Liu Qingge’s smile with one of his own. “Of course, Shizun,” he said, both his tone and eyes brighter than they were moments earlier.

“Now, shoo so I can get dressed,” Liu Qingge said, not unkindly, as he rose from his seat. “I’ll see you at the main hall for breakfast.”

“Yes, Shizun!” Yang Yixuan scrambled up and dipped into a half-bow before bouncing out the door, his steps light once again. Liu Qingge watched him go with an amused huff, shaking his head. If only his own worries and concerns and inadequacies could be so easily fixed with mere words from his loved ones.

Liu Qingge dressed carefully, taking the time to ensure that all his buckles were straight and every fold of cloth hung just so. It felt good to finally be wearing something fresh and more substantial. His Bai Zhan robes helped him feel more like himself, reminded him of who he was. When he was finished, he combed his damp hair and put it up in a final finishing touch. Carefully tucked among the layers of fabric in the bundle, his usual hair crown had been hidden until he was nearly done with dressing and had shaken out the outer robe and the ornament had fallen out to clink on the floor. It had unerringly made him think of the other hair crown, the one with the willow, and he wondered if it was still in his parents’ rooms. He would have to locate it later.

He dutifully took a dose of his medicines, cringing at the taste, and then opened the door to a clear, bright morning. The sky was cloudless overhead, already deepening into that vibrant enameled blue of autumn. Remnants of the night’s chill nipped his nose but the air was crisp and fresh. Liu Qingge took a deep breath of it and stepped out into the world.

+++

Liu Qingge was greeted heartily by his family when he arrived at the main hall. Everyone was obviously relieved to see him up and about, and in one piece. Liu Jinhai hugged him surprisingly tightly.

"I'm so glad you're still with us, cousin," he murmured. "I couldn't fill your role as young master of the estate, I'm not cut out for it." He was trying to be teasing, trying to keep his tone flippant, but Liu Qingge could hear the shakiness in Jinhai's voice nonetheless. He gave his cousin a tight squeeze before they stepped back from the embrace.

"It's good that I'm stubborn, then," Liu Qingge quipped, clapping Jinhai on the shoulder.

"It's fantastic that you're stubborn," Liu Jinhai replied, his lips smiling but his eyes full of pain and grief.

After receiving more hugs, kisses, and heartfelt words from his grandparents and aunt and uncle and sister, Liu Qingge allowed himself to be corralled by his parents, who ushered him to a chair in between them at the table. He didn't utter a single protest, knowing they were feeling protective of him and honestly he didn't mind much at all. Their proximity was comforting. It seemed all of them just needed some time to simply be near one another.

"What did I miss yesterday?" Liu Qingge inquired as the servants brought bowls of steaming congee.

"Nothing at all," Chen Mingzhu replied, patting his arm. She was doing a lot of that, as if constantly reassuring herself that her son was indeed well and right beside her.

"We postponed any more of the festivities until we knew you would be able to participate in them," Liu Yichen explained.

"Oh," Liu Qingge said, somewhat surprised. He hadn't necessarily thought that his parents would go on celebrating Mid-Autumn while he was absent from the proceedings but at the same time he couldn't say he'd expected everything to grind to a halt on his account either. His family still had other guests staying at the manor as well. It seemed almost inconceivable that they would all have been made to wait too.

Chen Mingzhu was watching his face and must have seen the flurry of confused emotion cross his features. "Of course we would call things off," she murmured, squeezing his arm. "We could never go on celebrating knowing you were suffering. You are so much more important than any festival, Qingge." She sounded a bit sad, as if disappointed that he apparently thought so little of himself.

Liu Qingge shifted in his chair a bit and cleared his throat, embarrassed at how quickly his mother had seemingly seen right through him. "Well, I can participate now, so we should continue the festival today," he said, reaching for a spoon.

Liu Yichen hummed in acknowledgement. "Yes, we can do that," he agreed. He stood to make the announcement to the table at large, asking for everyone's attention before continuing, "Now that Qingge is able to join us, we will be restarting the Mid-Autumn Festival. This is officially the second day of the festival, then. Here at Willow Manor, we spend the day honoring our ancestors," he added for the benefit of their guests. "Gifts are exchanged after supper but they are not a requirement. Afterward we have a communal story exchange here in the main hall."

The second day had always been one of Liu Qingge's favorite days of the festival, simply for the storytelling. He'd always found great delight not in telling his own tales but rather hearing those of his relatives, particularly from his parents and grandparents. Sometimes the stories were full of adventure and danger and suspense, sometimes gentle and soft, perhaps even sorrowful, all of them snapshots of the teller's lives or those of their ancestors. The Liu clan had few written histories since they focused on this oral tradition instead. He was thankful he wouldn't be missing out on it.

Enthusiastic chatter resumed from all around the table when Liu Yichen sat down again. Chen Mingzhu turned to her son with a smile and asked, "What are your plans for the day then? Will you head to the kitchens or out foraging?"

When it came to venerating ancestors and leaving offerings, the Liu clan practiced two methods, cooking and foraging. It was believed that offerings made or gathered by one's own hands were more meaningful and potent. Each family member was free to choose whichever method they preferred and could easily change that method from one year to another. Liu Qingge had dabbled in both throughout his life.

Liu Qingge hummed thoughtfully as he scraped the last of the congee from his bowl. "I'm not sure I'd be able to keep up with a foraging party," he said slowly. He hadn't had a chance yet to test the limits of his physical endurance with his cultivation inaccessible and he'd really rather not end up caught out in a situation that could end up embarrassing and inconvenient, especially on a day of the festival he'd rather enjoy. "So I guess I'll go to the kitchens."

Chen Mingzhu nodded. "I don't suppose your disciple will be too thrilled with that," she commented with a chuckle.

"No, he'll be bored out of his mind," Liu Qingge agreed, lips quirking in amusement.

"Let us take him foraging," Liu Yichen offered from Liu Qingge's other side. "He can burn off some energy roaming in the forest."

Liu Qingge inclined his head gratefully. Yang Yixuan wouldn't be required to participate in the ancestral veneration but this was a good way to keep him busy and give him something to focus on while his shizun was occupied elsewhere. "I'd appreciate that. I think he would too."

When breakfast was over, Liu Qingge found his disciple and pulled him aside to inform him of the day's activities. Yang Yixuan seemed a bit conflicted, obviously not wanting to leave his master all day but clearly also eager to explore the woods and spend time in the company of Liu Qingge's father, uncle, grandfather, and cousin.

"Stop feeling guilty," Liu Qingge admonished gruffly but fondly. "I'll be fine here and you're clearly curious, so go explore. Learn from my clansmen. You can learn from others and not just me."

Yang Yixuan smiled. "Okay, Shizun!"

How quickly the young man's mood brightened with Liu Qingge's approval and endorsement. He huffed good-naturedly and shooed him toward the door where Liu Yichen and the others were waiting. "Go. Bring back the biggest mushrooms you can find."

"Yes, Shizun! See you later!" Yang Yixuan bounded away, already brimming with energy and enthusiasm for the task ahead.

"Are you not going with them, Shidi?" Shen Qingqiu inquired as he and Luo Binghe drifted over in the wake of Yang Yixuan's departure. Qing Jing's lord was looking especially stunning in dark green robes trimmed in black; Liu Qingge couldn't help but notice he was carrying yet another fan he'd gifted his fellow peak lord a number of years ago. This one was painted with a misty mountain scene, a bamboo grove growing in the foreground.

Liu Qingge shook his head. "I don't want to slow them down," he replied with a shrug, trying to cover his sudden stab of embarrassment. He was used to being active and more often than not, leading whatever group he was in simply because he had the energy and motivation for it. Knowing he couldn't keep up with cultivators somewhat less skilled and proficient--his relatives were all ridiculously competent but they also weren't War Gods--than he was bordered on humiliating, especially in front of someone like Luo Binghe. It didn't matter that he knew Luo Binghe wouldn't judge him harshly for it, it was still embarrassing.

"What will you do instead?" Shen Qingqiu asked curiously, tilting his head slightly in inquiry.

"I'll head to the kitchens and join in the dumpling making," Liu Qingge explained, heading for the doors of the main hall. Just ahead, the women of clan Liu were headed in the same direction, walking together in a tight group, chattering and laughing. "If we choose not to forage, we cook. The ancestors still require offerings from each of us."

"Oh!" Shen Qingqiu sounded surprised but intrigued. No doubt his scholarly senses were tingling with the knowledge of these traditions uniquely tailored for Willow Manor's specific environment.

On Liu Qingge's other side, Luo Binghe finally spoke, sounding equally as taken aback as his husband. "Shishu knows how to cook?"

"Of course," Liu Qingge deadpanned, glancing at the demon lord. "I used to cook with my sister when she was young. Besides, it would be a waste of the beasts I've killed to not utilize them." Provided they weren't poisonous, of course.

Luo Binghe's brows reached for his hairline. "Forgive me, Shishu. I just never pictured you having any interest in such things."

"I wouldn't say I have an interest, necessarily," Liu Qingge replied, pushing the hall's heavy door open and stepping outside, the other two men close behind. "But it's a valuable skill set and it was one more thing to keep my hands busy."

"Fair enough," Luo Binghe hummed, his expression settling into something more thoughtful than surprised. It was a good look on him, Liu Qingge thought.

"Might we accompany Shidi to the kitchens?" Shen Qingqiu asked, waving his fan lazily.

"If you want," Liu Qingge said, trying to sound casual about it. "Guests aren't expected to participate, though." Surely they would rather be off elsewhere, partaking in idle pursuits, or even indulging in each other. The barest hint of the thought brought heat to Liu Qingge's cheeks and he turned away so neither of them could see.

Luo Binghe rubbed his hands together. "I actually enjoy cooking, Shishu, you know that. I'd be happy to help."

Liu Qingge's heart stuttered for just a moment and he had to remind himself that Luo Binghe's offer didn't necessarily mean anything at all. Maybe the man just wanted to stave off boredom, much as a teenage Liu Qingge had done in the kitchens. "Fine," he said.

He led the way through the manor's courtyards, under the enameled sky.

Chapter 18

Notes:

I'm back again, after a bit longer wait. Sorry about that and I hope this chapter is enjoyable. Lots of dialogue in this one again.

Thank you to everyone for sticking with me all this way through the slow burn. I promise we're getting there. I'll see ya'll in the comments! <3

Willow Manor’s kitchens were the perfect place to spend a crisp autumn day, spacious yet warm and cozy. Two long work tables dominated the room, a blazing, crackling hearth at each end. Bundles of dried herbs hung upside down from the rafters, filling the room with their earthy aroma. Kitchen staff had gathered around one table, already hard at work on the midday meal and early supper preparations. This left the second table open for the clan members to cluster at and work on the dumplings meant for the ancestors.

Liu Qingge had spent a fair amount of time in and out of the kitchens as a child, begging for scraps with Jinhai in between mealtimes or learning new things here and there from the motherly cooks, who could hardly ever resist the pair of pretty youngsters with their earnest storm-gray eyes. Liu Qingge had seen how hard the staff worked, toiling in the heat on the most sweltering summer days and in the relentless chill of the frostiest winter mornings. Work in the kitchens only ever ceased during the deepest hours of the night. Liu Qingge was often thankful that his parents had never tried to shield him from the amount of ongoing work and consistent effort that went into running their estate; he had grown up with an appreciation for the people who kept the manor functioning on a day-to-day basis and the humility to know they were to be treated kindly and with respect.

Most of the staff that had worked the kitchens when he’d been a boy had since retired but there were still several familiar faces when Liu Qingge entered the room. The children of several of the cooks had taken over their parents’ roles, continuing the long tradition of generation after generation working for the Liu clan. They were about Liu Qingge’s age; growing up, he and Jinhai had played with them when they’d had free time. They all greeted him with smiles and respectful nods and a chorus of, “Good morning, Young Master!”

Li Jun was sitting on a stool near the hearth, his walking stick leaning against the wall beside him. He grinned up at Liu Qingge when he saw him. “Decided to stay in, I see,” he commented before nodding at the younger man. “Give me your vambraces. You’ll want to roll up your sleeves.”

Liu Qingge made a noise of acknowledgment and deftly loosened the ties of his vambraces before sliding them over his hands and off his forearms. Li Jun took the shiny pieces of armor and cradled them in his lap. “I’ll keep an eye on them, don’t you worry,” he assured Liu Qingge, eyes twinkling.

Liu Qingge inclined his head in a show of lighthearted formality. “Thank you, gong-gong.” He stepped away toward the work table, rolling his narrow sleeves up to his elbows as he went. The women had already brought the canisters of flour, bowls, and rolling pins to the table. He took an empty spot and reached for a bowl. Luo Binghe sidled up beside Liu Qingge a moment later, eyeing Liu Qingge’s bared forearms for the space of a heartbeat before pulling his eyes up to meet the other man’s gaze.

“Never thought I’d be sharing workspace right beside you in a kitchen,” Luo Binghe commented, grinning. He seemed inordinately delighted about the prospect. He’d pulled his fluffy curls back in a leather tie and shed his outer robe, ridding himself of the long flowing sleeves. Liu Qingge saw that said robe was draped over Shen Qingqiu’s arm where he stood near Li Jun, chatting with the old man animatedly.

Liu Qingge snorted as he measured out flour. “Glad to know I can keep you guessing even now,” he replied off-handedly, dumping the appropriate amount of flour in his bowl and passing the canister along to Luo Binghe.

“I don’t think I could ever get bored of you, Shishu,” Luo Binghe declared, sounding somewhat breathless, his fingers brushing along Liu Qingge’s as he took the canister. When Liu Qingge glanced at him, his cheeks were stained an attractive shade of pink, dark eyes intent. Liu Qingge couldn’t help but flush a bit in response. He pulled his hands back and reached for the water pitcher instead. He didn’t know what he could possibly say to the demon lord’s declaration, flustered as he was, but luckily he needn’t have worried. Luo Binghe held out his hands for the pitcher.

“Here, Shishu, let me add the water for you, and then you can do the same for me.” Luo Binghe’s manner was too earnest to refuse and Liu Qingge found himself agreeing easily. Soon both of them were kneading the flour into dough. The work was mindless and soothing and Liu Qingge’s mind drifted, even as he remained all too aware of the solid, warm presence at his elbow. He realized with a jolt that this might be the first time he’d felt so comfortable in Luo Binghe’s company and dare he say it, safe.

“I never said thank you,” he blurted out of nowhere, hands slowing in their kneading.

Luo Binghe made a startled noise, apparently jolted from his own reverie. “What?”

“I never said thank you for what you did the other night,” Liu Qingge said then, in a quieter tone, even though there was little danger of anyone else hearing. The women talked and laughed at the other end of the table as they clustered together to help each other mix their dough and beyond them, the kitchen staff was loudly conversing at the next work table over. He kept his eyes on his own work, unable to bring himself to look up at the other man. “For coming to my aid.” He would never forget the way Luo Binghe had swung his sword with a single-mindedness that spoke of protectiveness, the way he had growled in outrage. The way he had been incandescently angry on Liu Qingge’s behalf.

“Oh.” Luo Binghe’s voice had grown solemn. “You’re welcome.” He paused and then continued haltingly, as if he were thinking about his words as he was saying them. “I…didn’t think, Shishu, I just reacted. I could feel the demonic energy he brought in with him. When I realized…you were in danger, I just…” He trailed off and Liu Qingge could see him shaking his head out of the corner of his eye, his mass of curls swaying with the movement. “I couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to you,” Luo Binghe finished.

Liu Qingge blinked. “And why is that?” he couldn’t help asking tentatively. “All we’ve ever done until very recently is fight and disagree.”

Luo Binghe sighed. “I know,” he said softly, kneading the dough in his bowl more forcefully for a moment, as if he were frustrated, before relenting. “I regret the circumstances of the past but I do care about you, Shishu. Your well-being is important to me.”

“Because I’m important to your husband?” Liu Qingge guessed, feeling a bit presumptuous for letting the words slip past his lips.

“Well, yes, that’s true,” Luo Binghe agreed, tilting his head in acknowledgment. “Shizun would be heartbroken if any harm befell you so of course I don’t wish for that to happen.” Liu Qingge’s heart stuttered a bit at the words, at the confirmation that Shen Qingqiu cared for him. “But even beyond that,” Luo Binghe continued, “I find I want you to be safe for my own reasons.” He paused again, and it seemed he was debating with himself, his stately brows furrowing. The air between them was thick with unanswered questions and raw emotions lingering just under the surface. Liu Qingge forced himself to wait patiently. Finally, Luo Binghe spoke again, his tone almost unbearably open and genuine.

“Shishu, I need to thank you too. I know the five years we spent fighting are unpleasant for you to remember, and they are for me as well, but I need you to know that without you showing up every day, I surely would have gone mad. Xin Mo would have burrowed itself even deeper into my mind and I think I would have been beyond saving. I hate the thought of completely losing myself to that cursed thing. You were the only thing that kept me passably sane that whole time. The one constant I could count on. Shizun is right when he says you’re reliable and dependable.” Luo Binghe laughed, a terrible, bitter thing. Liu Qingge recognized it as the sound of someone trying to shoulder immense regret. “So thank you, even if it was unintentional on your part.”

Liu Qingge didn’t know what to say. He’d never expected to hear such a confession from the demon lord. His hands had stilled altogether but that was fine; he’d done enough kneading. It wouldn't do to overwork the dough. He reached for a plate to cover the bowl; the dough would need to rest for about half a sichen. It wasn’t until he’d set the bowl aside that he dusted his hands off and turned to look at Luo Binghe, really look at him. The other man’s head was bowed, his shoulders stiff. He looked defeated, something Liu Qingge would have dearly loved to have seen in the not-too-distant past, but now he found it brought him no joy or satisfaction. Almost before he knew what he was doing, he’d reached out a hand to squeeze Luo Binghe’s tense shoulder, hoping to ease a measure of that guilt and regret. Luo Binghe let out a surprised breath, eyes swinging over to look at Liu Qingge.

“I’m not angry at you for any of it,” Liu Qingge murmured. “We both did what we thought was the right thing at the time.”

Luo Binghe’s eyes were dark pools of gratitude, suddenly shiny with gathering tears. “Shishu…”

Liu Qingge let his lips tilt in a tiny lopsided smile. “What's done is done. Come. There are dumplings to make.” He released Luo Binghe’s shoulder and pretended not to notice when the other man sniffed and hastily wiped his eyes.

Liu Qingge decided his dumplings would have a pork filling, accented with bok choy and chives. He made quick work of chopping the vegetables, pleased that his skill with a knife hadn’t deteriorated too much. Beside him, Luo Binghe was busy grinding chicken for his own filling. He seemed to have recovered his good spirits, humming softly as he worked. Liu Qingge listened to the lilting melody in silence for a while, trying to place it. When he couldn’t, he asked, “What’s that tune?”

Luo Binghe smiled. “It’s the song my mother used to sing when she cooked or worked in the garden.”

Liu Qingge hummed. “It’s nice.” He knew little about Luo Binghe’s early life, never having had the opportunity or desire in years past to inquire after the details but he knew that the woman who had raised the demon lord in the years before he came to Cang Qiong was as dear to the man as Liu Qingge’s own mother was to him. He could understand a son’s love for his mother well enough.

Luo Binghe made a noise of agreement. “I was fourteen the last time I heard it but I still remember it like it was yesterday.”

Liu Qingge might have been able to understand a son’s love but he was unfamiliar with the death of a mother. Still, he could imagine the devastation such a loss left behind. He counted himself lucky that he’d never had to experience it. He glanced down the table to where his own mother was sharing a laugh with his aunt, trying to imagine his life without her in it.

Beside him, Luo Binghe continued, “Thanks for not kicking me out of the party right at the foot of the mountain, Shishu. It’s been lovely meeting your family.”

“I never thought about it,” Liu Qingge confessed, turning back to his task of scraping all the chopped vegetables into a large bowl. “I thought about bowing out myself instead.”

“Were you really so reluctant to come back here?” Luo Binghe sounded confused, as if he couldn’t imagine a better place to be.

Liu Qingge sighed. “I was nervous as hell. I hadn’t seen any of my family since before…” He paused and cleared his throat, remembering that Luo Binghe’s identity as the person who had handed him repeated defeat was still a secret. “Anyway, the last thing I wanted was to disappoint my parents.”

Luo Binghe transferred the chicken into a bowl and then motioned at the chunks of pork laying nearby. “If I grind up the pork for you, would you chop up the vegetables for me?” Again, Liu Qingge found it all too easy to acquiesce. He returned to another round of chopping as Luo Binghe resumed grinding, along with picking up the thread of conversation. “Your parents adore you, Shishu. I don’t think you could ever disappoint them.” His tone of voice was a tad wistful.

Liu Qingge had heard similar sentiments from his sister as well as his parents recently. “So I’ve been told these last few days,” he replied.

“Well, they’re right, you know,” Luo Binghe insisted, lips quirking in a small smile. “That’s what family’s supposed to do, love you and support you.”

Liu Qingge hummed in agreement. The pair lapsed into a comfortable silence for a while. Chatter continued nearby, laced with the crackling of the cooking fires and the clinking of utensils and dishes. Liu Qingge watched Shen Qingqiu across the room, still conversing with Li Jun. His fellow peak lord had located another stool and pulled it over to sit on, Binghe’s robe folded carefully in his lap. Liu Qingge wondered what they were talking about; whatever it was, Shen Qingqiu was engrossed. The man’s curiosity was one of the things Liu Qingge loved most about him.

Eventually, Luo Binghe handed over the ground pork and Liu Qingge passed him the chopped greens. Liu Qingge mixed the meat into the bok choy and chives, adding salt, sesame oil, soy sauce, and some water before using long chopsticks to stir the filling until it had smoothed into a paste-like texture. By the time he was done, the dough was ready to be cut and rolled. Beside him, Luo Binghe worked at almost exactly the same pace.

The most challenging part lay ahead: actually creating the individual dumplings, getting the amount of filling just right in each one so they wouldn’t burst during cooking, and ideally using all the prepared dough and filling without any leftover of either one.

Luo Binghe’s first few dumplings were perfectly plump, their tops folded just so, small pleats ending in a twist. His long fingers moved with confidence and ease, entirely comfortable in their task. Liu Qingge supposed this was something he’d done countless times before. The man had even gone back to softly humming, though the tune was different this time.

Liu Qingge formed his own dumplings the way he’d been taught many years prior, folding them over and then pleating the curved edge so the whole thing ended up looking like a little fan. He’d gotten through several before he realized the irony of the shape and had to chuckle.

“What’s funny, Shishu?” Luo Binghe inquired idly, setting aside another finished dumpling.

“I never would have guessed when I learned to make these in the shape of a fan that such symbolism would become so important in my life,” Liu Qingge mused, cradling a dumpling in his palm.

Luo Binghe made a small noise of delight when he looked over and noticed the finely made dumpling. “Your technique is lovely,” he said sincerely, admiring the crisp folds in the dough. “I’m sure Shizun would agree. Would it be alright to set aside a few for him?”

Liu Qingge hadn’t considered sharing his dumplings with anyone. Eating a handful from batches made for ancestors wasn’t considered bad form but rather simply sharing with family by the loosest definition. Sharing with someone who wasn’t a relative implied that person was viewed as part of the clan regardless. In the case of Shen Qingqiu, where romantic feelings were entangled, it would be tantamount to a marriage proposal.

“It wouldn’t be entirely appropriate,” Liu Qingge choked out, blushing furiously and nearly crushing the dumpling in his hand.

Luo Binghe reached for his fingers, catching them before they closed entirely around the innocent dumpling. “Careful, Shishu!” He sounded distressed. “Don’t ruin your hard work.”

The fact that Luo Binghe was holding his hand so carefully only made Liu Qingge’s flush deepen. He forced his fingers open to spare the dumpling an undignified fate. Luo Binghe plucked the dumpling free with his other hand and set it aside with the others. He didn’t let go of Liu Qingge’s hand, however.

“Why would it be inappropriate?” he asked.

Liu Qingge cleared his throat. "In my clan, such a thing has…” He trailed off, casting about for the right words. “Deep meaning," he finally finished lamely.

Luo Binghe gave him a knowing look, fingertips shifting and brushing Liu Qingge's palm lightly, so lightly it could have been an accident. Regardless, the contact sent a shiver skittering down Liu Qingge's spine. "You mean because you're in love with Shizun."

He said it so casually, so unperturbed, yet Liu Qingge's heart leaped into his throat immediately. His eyes burned with the sudden threat of frustrated tears; how could he be so transparent? The day Shen Qingqiu had married Luo Binghe he'd promised himself his feelings were to be kept as secret as he could manage, dammit. There was no reason to make things awkward, cluttering up their interactions with unwanted feelings. Luo Binghe was the last person he'd wanted to know. He tried to pull his hand free but Luo Binghe only held on tighter.

"It's alright, Shishu," he murmured, his eyes somehow unspeakably kind. It made Liu Qingge's heart hurt. "I've known for a long time. I understand better than anyone else in this world possibly could."

Maybe it had been foolish to think he could keep his feelings hidden, especially from Luo Binghe. Shen Qingqiu was one matter; the man was absolutely oblivious. But the demon lord was always watching and seemed to know all. Liu Qingge flushed in embarrassment, feeling like an idiot. This was punishment, surely, to be so known. It's what he got for loving another man's husband.

"I'm sorry," Liu Qingge muttered, closing his eyes to block out the sight of Luo Binghe's face. His cheeks were burning and his heart hammering. He thought his hands were shaking too, because Binghe's grip subtly tightened, steadying him.

"Apologies aren't necessary," Luo Binghe replied softly. "You can't help loving him any more than I can."

Liu Qingge let out a shaky breath and opened his eyes. "I need to finish the dumplings," he whispered, trying once more to pull his hand free. This time Binghe let go.

The two of them worked in silence to assemble the rest of the dumplings. Liu Qingge’s hands shook for a while but eventually, they steadied and his heart rate slowed. He tuned an ear to the women’s conversation idly; his sister was telling stories from some of her recent missions for Xuan Su Peak. He wanted to tell her to leave some for telling later but he was still too embarrassed to draw any attention to himself. Finally, Liu Qingge found himself reaching for dumpling wrappers that weren’t there and he realized that he’d used them all up. There was only a tiny bit of filling left over, which meant he’d calculated the amount in each dumpling almost perfectly. He offered the last bits to Mingyan to add in with her own filling before taking his plate of dumplings to the wok hanging over the cooking fire.

Luo Binghe appeared at his elbow with his own plate of dumplings in one hand and a bamboo steamer in the other. “You’re not going to steam yours?” he asked curiously.

“No,” Liu Qingge answered, hooking the arm the wok hung on with a chopstick and swinging it toward him. “I prefer to pan-fry them.” He grabbed the jar of oil from the shelf nearby, poured in an appropriate amount, and then pushed the dumplings off the plate into the wok. Moments later, the pan was back over the fire and the oil was heating rapidly.

Luo Binghe lingered, watching Liu Qingge push the dumplings around in the sizzling oil with the long chopsticks, occasionally flipping them over as their sides seared. “Those look amazing, Shishu,” he murmured. He was standing awfully close, Liu Qingge thought, shifting nervously at the other man’s proximity. “It’s a shame it’s inappropriate to share them. Shizun and I both would be receptive to partaking of your dumplings, Shishu.” Luo Binghe’s voice was low and velvety near Liu Qingge’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine.

Liu Qingge bit his lip, appalled at the words and the curl of heat they inspired in his belly. Shameless! He had little doubt that Luo Binghe was well aware of the different ways his comments could be interpreted, and he knew how brazen the demon lord could be. Was he simply teasing for his own amusement? It surely couldn’t be meant as a proposition. The thought still seemed impossible to Liu Qingge. Even if Shen Qingqiu thought of him fondly, and Luo Binghe confirmed he apparently harbored no ill feelings toward Liu Qingge over their five-year-long dispute, he certainly didn’t expect anything more to develop than the current dynamic hovering somewhere between friendship and a truce. All of that still didn’t prevent his body from reacting to the proximity of Luo Binghe’s warmth, his smooth voice. Damn his blocked cultivation! How frustrating for a cultivator of his caliber to not be able to control his bodily urges.

"You don't have to tease me," Liu Qingge snapped, frowning over his shoulder at the other man. "You don't have to pretend you want me, either. Curing my curse won't mean anything." Internally, he winced; he hadn't meant to say such a thing out loud but he was feeling so mixed up and confused and conflicted about everything that had happened and everything that had yet to happen that the sentiment from the previous day slipped out without his consent.

Luo Binghe's expression shifted first to surprise at his outburst, then to sadness, his brows lifting and then furrowing. "Did you not hear anything I said earlier?" he asked quietly, dark eyes studying Liu Qingge's face intently. "I only tease because you blush so prettily, not because I intend to make light of your feelings or anything that's happened to you. Curing your curse won't be a burden, Shishu, or even an obligation or whatever you're thinking of it as. I find you desirable. The idea of dual cultivation with you excites me."

Liu Qingge sputtered, eyes wide. "Luo Binghe!" he gasped, scandalized. "You're married! You shouldn't say such things!"

Binghe's lips quirked in a small smile. "Is that part of what you're hung up on? That I'm married? And what would you say if Shizun agreed with me, felt the same as I do?"

Liu Qingge's eyes widened and his cheeks blazed. The dumplings were forgotten as he twisted to look at Luo Binghe better, chopsticks frozen over the wok, hot oil still sizzling. "I-I-I'd say you're both having a lapse in judgment," he managed to choke out.

Binghe clicked his tongue, setting the items in his hands aside before reaching over to gently pry the chopsticks from Liu Qingge's fingers. His other hand wrapped gently around Liu Qingge's and drew it away from the reach of the hot pan and popping oil, up against his chest. "Careful, Shishu," he murmured. "You don't have cultivation to help you heal if you get burned." He paused, using the chopsticks to give the dumplings a final stir before swinging the wok away from the fire. Then he focused on Liu Qingge again, gaze locked on the older man's face. "Why is it so hard for you to believe that you are wanted?"

How to answer such a question? Liu Qingge swallowed hard, his throat clicking. Moments passed as he stared back at Binghe, trying to find words. Finally, he murmured, "No one's ever wanted me for myself. I was a power play for Deng Rouhuan." He didn't miss the way darkness crept across Binghe's features momentarily at the mention of the man's name. "I was a convenient and willing distraction for the disciples I dallied with. And then Shen Qingqiu chose you over me. I never stood a chance." Liu Qingge smiled faintly, sadly. "No one has ever come to me and said, 'I want you, Qingge, because I like you for who you are.' So you see why it might be hard for me to fathom."

His heart was beating quickly and he felt a little breathless at how he'd laid himself bare. It was the starkest language he'd ever used to talk about his romantic prospects, or rather the lack thereof. He felt incredibly vulnerable but also…liberated, somehow. He raised his chin, holding Luo Binghe's gaze for another long moment before pulling away, putting a few steps of distance between them. Luo Binghe watched him silently, seemingly stunned, his expression troubled.

"Everything alright over here?" Shen Qingqiu's voice asked softly. Liu Qingge turned to see the man approaching, fiddling with his closed fan nervously. He'd left his husband's robe folded on the stool he'd been sitting on. He must have been discreetly watching the tense exchange next to the hearth.

"Everything's fine," Liu Qingge said in a clipped tone before Luo Binghe could so much as open his mouth.

Shen Qingqiu eyed him skeptically. "Are you sure?"

Liu Qingge sighed, reaching for the plate that had held his dumplings prior to them being dumped in the wok. "Yes. Why does no one believe me when I say that?" He could hear the irritated edge in his own voice.

No one said anything as Liu Qingge scooped his dumplings onto the plate, shaking off the excess oil. He didn't even want to imagine what kind of nonverbal conversation was taking place behind his back. When he was finished, he turned to face Luo Binghe again, holding out his hand for the chopsticks. Wordlessly, the demon lord handed them over. Curling his fingers tightly around the chopsticks, Liu Qingge muttered, "Excuse me," and left the couple standing near the fire. He retrieved his vambraces from Li Jun, tucking them under one arm as he brushed aside the old man's concerned query. Finally, he slipped out the side door, taking a deep breath of the fresh air outside.

He headed for the ancestral shrine. No one followed him, which he was grateful for.

The Liu clan's ancestral hall was near the training grounds, a small but ornate building with doors intricately carved with willows and painted in bright green and red with black trim. Inside, the shelves of spirit tablets rose toward the ceiling in tiers, each one bearing the gilded characters of a name and the willow symbol above them, delicately painted. A small offering plate sat at the base of each tablet while a larger one lay between the incense burners on the offering table in front of the shelves. It was quiet and peaceful inside when Liu Qingge slipped through the doors into the cool, dim interior. The door softly thumped shut behind him and then it was just him and his ancestors.

He paused with the plate of dumplings in his hands, looking over the rows of tablets. He could hear the chirping of a lone bird somewhere outside. Steam curled up in the cool air from the still-hot dumplings. He set the plate on the offering table and took the chance to roll down his sleeves and slip his vambraces back on, murmuring an apology to the ancestors for the impropriety. There were many warriors and cultivators among them so he imagined not many of them would have cared but it was still the polite thing to do.

Liu Qingge lit several sticks of incense and murmured a few prayers before distributing the dumplings onto the various offering plates. There was a handful leftover which he set back on the main table. Finally, he kowtowed three times before sitting back on his heels, staring blankly at the curls of incense smoke rising into the air.

He wasn't sure what to make of his various exchanges with Luo Binghe in the kitchens, especially toward the end. The other man’s confession bounced around inside his mind, the declaration that he found Liu Qingge desirable. Liu Qingge supposed he ought to be glad to know such a thing but while it eased certain concerns, it only raised others of a deeper, more emotional nature. Even if Luo Binghe professed that dual cultivation with him wouldn’t be a chore or an obligation, did that mean it was still just a casual dalliance? Did he want sex with Luo Binghe to mean more than simply a cure for his curse? He thought he did; it occurred to him that he’d never had any meaningful sex with anyone in his life. And if he wanted more than a casual dalliance, how did that fit into Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu’s shared life and relationship? Could there ever be space for him alongside them? Thinking about it made his head hurt and his heart ache.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been kneeling there when the door of the shrine opened and someone else stepped inside. Liu Qingge stirred and looked up to find Yang Yixuan standing just inside the threshold, a burlap sack in his arms. The young man offered him a smile, cheeks rosy from the crisp air outside.

“We’re back, Shizun,” he said quietly, mindful of the place they were in. Despite his boisterous nature, Yang Yixuan was dutiful and respectful when and where it mattered. “I was told you’d probably be here. I brought all the biggest mushrooms I could find, like you said.”

Liu Qingge instantly felt his mood lift and the corners of his mouth curl in an answering smile. “Alright, let’s see what you found,” he said, patting the floor beside him.

He tuned his inner thoughts out and focused on being present with his disciple; there would always be more time later to agonize over Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu. As they began sorting the contents of the sack, there were mushrooms, berries, and even a number of late-season flowers, which made Liu Qingge smile even wider when he saw them.

“These are beautiful,” he commented, holding up a blossom. “You’ve done well.”

“Thank you, Shizun.” Yang Yixuan sounded happy. “Your father said the same and your mother gave me some of her dumplings as a reward when I came to the kitchen looking for you.”

“That means you’re part of the clan now,” Liu Qingge said with a smile, glancing at his disciple. The young man’s face reflected surprise, eyes wide. “Once you’re offered dumplings made for the ancestors, it means you’re one of us.”

Yang Yixuan’s eyes were bright even as they glittered with gathering tears. “But I didn’t even do anything,” he murmured, sniffing and wiping his eyes hastily, seemingly embarrassed at being so emotional in front of his teacher for the second time in a single day.

Liu Qingge chuckled and clapped a hand on his disciple’s shoulder. “You didn’t have to. You were just yourself and we decided you’re a keeper.”

“That…means a lot to me,” Yang Yixuan said softly. Liu Qingge had no doubt that it did; he knew having no more living family sometimes weighed heavily on the boy. He squeezed Yang Yixuan’s shoulder and made to stand up.

“Let’s pass out those offerings, shall we?” Liu Qingge murmured, rising. “Our ancestors are waiting.”

Chapter 19

Notes:

I don't know where the time went between the previous update and this one! This one also took longer to get out than I would have liked but here it is. We made it, peeps!

I'm quite pleased with how this came out. Our boy Qingge is making progress! I hope you all enjoy it. I decided to end it where I did to avoid having the second half drag on too long, but look for a short continuation in the next update after this.

As always, your readership is greatly appreciated. The love for this fic still blows me away. Thank you for your time and for coming with me on this journey. I'll see you all in the comments <3

After supper, Liu Qingge realized he would have to return to his rooms to retrieve the gifts he’d bought for his mother, aunt, and grandmother. He knew exactly where they were, tucked away in his qiankun pouch lying on the table beside his bed. In theory, he could dart in, grab the pouch, and dart out again without having to spend too much time there. He wouldn’t have to look too hard at the bed where he’d struggled for his freedom and dignity or at the fresh floorboards where he’d spilled a man’s blood. But this was little comfort when he found himself standing outside the front door, hesitating, his hands shaking.

He found his hesitance frustrating. There was nothing in the chambers that could harm him, he reminded himself. The threat was gone, dead and buried. These were his chambers, his space. He had every right to be here. With a deep breath, he flung the door open and stepped across the threshold before he could think twice about it.

The front room looked just as it always had, all the furniture in place, all the scrolls still stacked on his shelves. Nothing appeared different until he crossed into his bedroom. There, the floorboards near his bed had indeed been replaced, a shade lighter in color than the ones nearby. Liu Qingge stood there for a long moment, staring at the floorboards, remembering the sound the hairpin had made when it had dropped from his fingers. It seemed a strange detail to recall but somehow he couldn't remember the sounds of anything else happening at the time.

Finally, he tore his gaze away and looked up to his bed. His sister had said that all of his old bedding had been stripped and burned, no doubt beyond salvaging after having been soaked in blood. He had somehow expected the mattress to be bare, but someone, likely his mother, had put fresh sheets and blankets on, neatly pressed and smooth, ready for whenever he decided he wanted to sleep here again. The presence of the bedding made the atmosphere in the room seem more normal, and it settled something in his heart he couldn't quite name.

Letting out a long breath, Liu Qingge turned toward the nightstand to scoop up the qiankun pouch lying there. Worrying it in both hands, he found himself hesitating again, this time reluctant to leave, despite how he'd thought he would have wanted to dash in and back out. His eyes skipped over the small arsenal of jars and bottles on the bedside table containing all his treatments. Near them lay his bamboo comb where Shen Qingqiu had left it after he'd helped Liu Qingge get ready for bed that night. His set of formal robes had been folded and placed on a stool. Little bits of himself were scattered around as if he'd been in here just that morning. He continued his perusal of the room, searching for signs of himself in this space, proof that he belonged, that his identity hadn't been washed away by the events that had unfolded.

Finally, he found Cheng Luan propped against the foot of the bed, placed there with obvious care by someone who knew the weapon's value. Liu Qingge paused, his heart tripping at the sight of the sword. He tried to reach for its presence in his mind but it was like bumping up against a wall in the dark repeatedly. He had known this would be the case with his cultivation blocked but it still hurt to feel it in the moment. Not being able to connect to his weapon felt like losing a limb and he suddenly felt it acutely, an ache in his soul and a pang in his heart.

Setting the qiankun pouch aside on the mattress, Liu Qingge reached for Cheng Luan, cradling it in his hands. Holding the sword made no difference in his inability to feel its energy, which the logical side of his mind wasn't surprised by, but it still brought another wave of disappointment. He brushed a thumb over the elegantly sweeping hilt and its shining embedded ruby, sighing.

"What good is a cultivator without their cultivation?" he muttered to himself, frowning.

"You're so much more than just your cultivation." Chen Mingzhu's voice was gentle from somewhere behind Liu Qingge, startling her son slightly. Liu Qingge turned quickly to see her approaching from the front room, her footsteps nearly soundless across the floorboards. She offered him a sympathetic smile when she saw the sword in his hands. "I saw your door wide open so I thought I'd make sure all is well." She stopped in the doorway of his bedroom, studying his face. "Are you alright, Qingge?" she asked softly.

Liu Qingge's grip tightened around Cheng Luan's scabbard momentarily. He thought for one crazed moment about pushing against all the blockages in his spiritual veins as hard as he could, just to see if they burst open, never mind the agony it would cause. Mu Qingfang would undoubtedly have his hide afterward and that was a daunting enough prospect to keep him from attempting anything rash. "I'm just frustrated," he admitted after a beat of quiet, his eyes sliding away from his mother's concerned expression.

Chen Mingzhu sighed softly. "Master Mu did a thorough job of explaining this curse and its cure to us," she commented. "I can imagine how mixed up you must be feeling."

Liu Qingge huffed, trying to cover his stab of embarrassment. For some reason, he hadn't thought about his parents being informed of the necessary cure. On the other hand, it was freeing to know he could just talk about it without having to explain since Mu Qingfang had already handled that. "I'm annoyed that I can't use my power or feel my sword," he muttered, "but I'm almost more annoyed that I hesitated yesterday. I could have been cured by now and I said no."

Chen Mingzhu came closer and laid her hands on his shoulders, squeezing comfortingly. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Liu Qingge almost declined purely on instinct but on second thought, perhaps it would help to actually talk through all of his feelings? Maybe it would help put them in order, something he felt he sorely needed after his exchange with Luo Binghe in the kitchens earlier. He knew his mother wouldn't judge him, either. "I guess," he said, still sounding somewhat uncertain.

Chen Mingzhu smiled, her eyes impossibly gentle. She steered him toward the bed and maneuvered them both down to sit on its edge. Liu Qingge held Cheng Luan across his lap, not quite willing to let go of his sword just yet. A comfortable silence settled for a time, during which Chen Mingzhu ran her fingers through the loose ends of Liu Qingge's ponytail, gently working out a few tangles. Her expression was as patient as could be as she waited for her son to speak.

"I told you I've loved Shen Qingqiu for a long time," Liu Qingge finally murmured, eyes downcast and locked on Cheng Luan's hilt, staring but not truly taking in the details of the fine metalwork. "Now I think I may be beginning to think of his husband the same way."

Chen Mingzhu hummed in acknowledgment. "And this bothers you?"

Liu Qingge nodded, fingers flexing again around Cheng Luan. "I didn't anticipate it at all," he confessed, brows knitting. "I feel stuck between giving in and running away. I feel vulnerable, Mama, and I don't like it."

Chen Mingzhu chuckled, not unkindly, stroking her son's back. "That's just how love works, baby. It's uncomfortable sometimes. It's scary. It pushes us outside of our comfort zones."

"Did you ever feel like that with Father?" Liu Qingge couldn't help asking, curious in spite of himself.

"Oh, all the time, especially in the beginning when we didn't know each other well," Chen Mingzhu replied, a nostalgic note in her voice. Liu Qingge remembered that his parents' union had been arranged by their families but they had been lucky enough to eventually fall in love with each other regardless. "But he was always patient and kind."

Liu Qingge thought of how Shen Qingqiu had always been patient and kind with him, taking his idiosyncrasies in stride, and more recently, Luo Binghe. His mind flitted back to Binghe holding his hand carefully, removing the dumpling before it could be crushed, or pulling Liu Qingge away from the potential hazards of the hot wok. Liu Qingge knew how Luo Binghe treated those he truly saw as unworthy of his time and attention and he could admit how he'd been treating Liu Qingge lately did not match that description.

"What else?" his mother asked then, leaning into his side and gently nudging him. "I know there's more. I know that look. Your father looks just the same when something troubles him."

Liu Qingge huffed in mild amusement. "I don't want to interfere in their relationship," he said quietly. "I don't want to get involved just to be pushed away after I'm cured." He didn't add that he was sure such a thing would break his heart.

"And why do you assume you'll be pushed away?" Chen Mingzhu asked, tilting her head to the side as she looked at him, her long braid falling forward over her shoulder. "Have they said you wouldn't be welcome after the cure is taken care of?"

Her questions tripped him up; Liu Qingge truly hadn't considered such points. Now that his mother brought it up, it seemed obvious that he was indeed assuming quite a bit. "Well, no," he said slowly, frowning.

"Then perhaps you shouldn't speak for them or make up their minds for them," Chen Mingzhu said gently, offering him a small smile. "Communication is important, Qingge, and this is definitely something that should be discussed before you decide you're ready for the cure. I'm betting you'll be pleasantly surprised by the response you get."

Liu Qingge flushed. "But Shen Qingqiu didn't want me before," he whispered, forcing the words out despite the way they stung. "No one has ever wanted me."

Chen Mingzhu sighed, her features evening out into something more solemn. She reached for his hand and cradled it between her own. "It pains me to know you think the way you've been treated in the past at all reflects on who you are as a person," she murmured, squeezing his fingers. "Especially because none of that was your fault. You are loveable, Qingge, and you are worthy of love."

Liu Qingge sniffled, feeling the sting of tears behind his eyes. "But why did he choose Luo Binghe instead of me?" he asked miserably. It was the most he'd allowed himself to lament out loud about it since the day the two had married and Mingyan had witnessed her brother's rare fit of anger.

"I can't answer that, baby." Chen Mingzhu reached up with her free hand to cup his cheek, giving him a rueful little smile. "You'll have to ask Master Shen."

The idea of doing so was frightening. Did he really want to know all the ways he hadn't and didn't measure up? Why he wasn't enough? Would he ever be able to find any peace of mind if he didn't ask?

"Why is this so difficult?" he groaned, leaning against his mother's strong shoulder, blinking back the threatening tears. He was tired of tears. He'd wept more in the last few days than he had in years and years.

"Sometimes it's like removing a bandage from a wound," Chen Mingzhu said, a smile audible in her voice. She planted a kiss on her son's hair, on the crown of his head. "You just have to tear it off quickly and be done with it because it ultimately hurts less that way."

He thought he understood what she was saying; if he just forced himself to have the hard conversations, then they would be over and he would at least have answers to come to terms with. The wondering and speculating hardly ever did anyone any favors. Liu Qingge was a problem solver, after all. He knew himself well enough to know he would always be more comfortable with a defined problem to tackle, even if it was uncomfortable or hurtful, even if he didn't like Shen Qingqiu's answers. He chewed on this for several long moments before speaking again, his tone hesitant.

"I guess I just want dual cultivation to mean something."

Chen Mingzhu hummed in acknowledgment. “There’s nothing wrong with that,” she assured him with a smile. “It’s understandable. But you won’t know if that feeling is mutual if you don’t ask or talk about it.”

Liu Qingge sighed in mild exasperation. “I understand, Mama,” he groaned good-naturedly. “I should talk to them.”

“Yes, you should.” Chen Mingzhu laughed as she looped her arm around her son’s shoulders, drawing him close against her side. “Most things can be solved with communication.” Her voice gentled. “And I wish to see you happy. More than anything, I wish to see you find contentment and be with people who cherish you just as you are.”

Liu Qingge let his eyes slide closed for a long moment, savoring his mother’s affectionate embrace. “Thank you,” he murmured, finally more at peace about everything than he had been in recent memory.

His mother squeezed his shoulders. “Of course. I love you, Qingge.”

“I love you too,” he replied, letting his head drop onto her shoulder with a soft sigh. Several beats of silence passed, then he remembered to ask, “Mama, do you know where my hair crown is? The one with the willow?”

“Oh, it’s in mine and your father’s room,” Chen Mingzhu murmured back. “Right where you left it. Would you like it back?”

Liu Qingge nodded. “Yes.”

“Alright, I’ll bring it to the main hall when we return for the storytelling.” She paused and he could feel the slightest bit of tension creep into her shoulder. “Qingge, I want to ask you something else.”

“Hmm? What is it?” His eyes were drooping a bit as he relaxed within her hold.

She hesitated, something very unlike his outgoing and strong-minded mother. It seemed as though she were contemplating the best way to frame whatever it was she wanted to ask. Moments passed; Liu Qingge waited patiently and silently. Finally, she said, “That night, when I helped you bathe, I couldn’t help but notice all the scars on your body. I realize you began accumulating some when you were still a young disciple, but there are so many now and they look…painful. Angry, somehow.”

Liu Qingge resisted the urge to deny the existence of his scars and the pain they caused him, despite his mother having seen their existence for herself. He had already been vulnerable in their earlier conversation; what was a little more? He turned his face further into her shoulder, taking a deep steadying breath before replying, “They are painful. They’re not truly healed.”

Chen Mingzhu made a concerned noise. “Are they from those five years you spent battling that demon?”

Liu Qingge knew he would have to be careful here if he wanted to continue protecting Luo Binghe’s identity. “Yes,” he confirmed. “The cursed sword he used left lasting injuries. Mu Qingfang has to treat me for them regularly.” He raised a hand to motion toward the nightstand and its collection of bottles and jars. “That’s what all of that is.”

“Oh.” Chen Mingzhu sounded dismayed. She was quiet for a moment, thinking, then asked hopefully, “Will the cure for the curse be helpful with your wounds too, since a cursed weapon caused them?”

Liu Qingge hadn’t thought of this and he wondered if Mu Qingfang had. It seemed a terribly obvious thing to have overlooked but there had been a lot going on recently. It wasn’t inconceivable that certain things had fallen through the cracks in all the drama and excitement. He would have to mention it. “I’m not sure but I suppose it’s a possibility,” he said thoughtfully, trying to tamp down the hope that threatened to rear up in his chest at the prospect. If it didn’t work, the disappointment would be crushing; best not to set himself up for it at this point. “I will have to ask Mu Qingfang what he thinks.”

“I think that sounds like a good idea,” Chen Mingzhu agreed, rubbing his bicep and tucking her cheek against his hair. “I hate the thought of you hurting.”

Liu Qingge felt a pang of guilt; this was one reason he hadn’t necessarily wanted any of his family to know of his ailments. He knew they would worry and be upset and he in turn hated being the cause of such reactions. He never wished to burden anyone he cared about. “I’m alright, Mama,” he assured her. “You don’t have to worry.”

Chen Mingzhu sighed. “I’m always going to worry about you, Qingge. That’s just what parents do.”

“Still,” he groused. “I don’t want to be a burden.” Liu Qingge frowned deeply.

“You could never be a burden, baby,” his mother insisted, sounding somewhat indignant at the prospect. “I just want you to take better care of yourself. Can you please try to do that, if not for your own sake, then for mine?”

Liu Qingge knew he was helpless to deny his mother just about anything. He couldn’t begrudge her the concern. “I’ll try, Mama,” he conceded.

“Thank you,” she murmured and squeezed his shoulders once more before moving to stand up. When she had risen, she turned to face him, reaching out to cup his cheeks in her hands, holding his gaze steadily as he looked up at her. “I’ll be here if you need to talk again,” she promised with a little smile, letting her thumbs brush his cheekbones. She leaned down and kissed his forehead before stepping away to head toward the door. “I’ll go retrieve your hair crown and then I’ll see you back in the main hall.”

“Okay, Mama.” Liu Qingge watched her go, his heart swelling with fondness. The universe had truly blessed him when it had decreed he be born to his exceptional mother.

He sat quietly on the edge of his bed for a while longer, simply taking in the room around him, letting himself exist in his own space. He didn’t feel entirely at ease and suspected that it would be a little while before such would be the case. He ran his hand over the covers ponderously; he supposed it would only be a matter of time before he missed his bed enough to truly want to come back to these rooms. The bed in the guest room was comfortable enough but it wasn’t the same. He allowed himself a wry smile. He’d have to learn to live again in his own space, a bit at a time.

He stood up and smoothed out the indentation in the blankets where they’d been sitting, then set Cheng Luan aside once more, feeling a pang of wistfulness as he did so. He missed his sword. He grabbed up his qiankun pouch again. Glancing around one more time, Liu Qingge headed for the door. He didn’t feel the need to rush out or run away and that fact brought him another measure of peace. When he closed the door behind him, it was with the knowledge that he would be coming back, and when he did, it would be with his head held high.

+++

Liu Qingge returned to the main hall to find it already lively, full of boisterous voices and laughter. His relatives had pulled chairs away from the tables and over to the nearest brazier, where they clustered in a group. He spotted his disciple in a chair wedged between his grandparents; Yang Yixuan seemed happy enough to be where he was, immersed in conversation with Liu Qingge's grandfather. Liu Qingge wondered what they were talking about, a little smile pulling at his lips. He was glad to see that Yang Yixuan was embracing his status as an adopted member of the clan.

Chen Mingzhu appeared at his elbow, gently pressing something metal into his hand. It was the hair crown.

"Thank you," Liu Qingge murmured, closing his fingers around the object tightly for a moment before slipping it into his qiankun pouch, where it would be safe.

"Of course." His mother stretched up and kissed his cheek, before taking his elbow and guiding him toward the group.

"Qingge!" Liu Mingyan spotted him and raised her hand to wave him over. "Sit with me!" She patted an empty seat right beside her. On the other side of the empty chair, Shen Qingqiu sat beside his husband, one hand laced with Luo Binghe’s. He looked up and caught Liu Qingge’s eye, smiling and waving his folded fan in greeting. Luo Binghe also smiled but it was more subdued, almost as if he were uncertain how to act after their earlier interactions. Liu Qingge felt somewhat guilty about that as he approached, raising a hand in greeting.

Liu Mingyan took her brother’s hand and pulled him down into the chair. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever,” she said wryly, her eyes searching his face. “You dashed out of the kitchens earlier like you were running away from a monster.” She paused and then added, “Which is totally unlike you.”

Liu Qingge flushed and avoided his sister’s eyes. “I needed some fresh air,” he murmured under his breath. It wasn’t exactly a lie but it wasn’t the whole truth either.

Mingyan hummed skeptically, giving him a chiding look. It seemed perhaps she had seen more than he’d imagined she might have. He should have figured she would have been subtly watching the happenings in the kitchens. All the women probably had. It wasn’t the most private setting, despite the way he and Luo Binghe had tried to keep their voices down. “Is everything alright?” she asked quietly, leaning closer to him.

Liu Qingge thought about the conversation he’d just had with his mother. Now that his thoughts were less tangled and his heart somewhat more settled about everything, he felt he could answer in a more measured manner. He took a breath and replied, “I think they will be.” He really hoped they would be.

Liu Mingyan smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “Good. It makes me glad to hear that.”

Any more conversation was forestalled by Liu Jinhai kicking off the storytelling by beginning to loudly recount the tale of a recent job he’d taken in a small village a day’s ride outside the border of Liu clan lands. Jinhai had been liberally drinking wine and now his gestures were expansive and sweeping, his expressions dramatic. He even jumped up at one point and mimicked the action of the tale, arms flailing and feet stomping. Liu Qingge shared an amused smile with his sister and settled back in his chair to watch and listen. His energetic cousin often told some of the most outlandish stories, laced with sarcasm and humor. Before long, he was laughing along with everyone else at Jinhai’s story and accompanying antics. It felt good to laugh and unburden his heart even more.

The storytelling continued on in this manner, lighthearted and humorous, moving from Liu Jinhai to Liu Qingge’s uncle and then to his aunt. The three of them talked over one another at various points, adding to the narrative or disputing it goodnaturedly while everyone else looked on in amusement.

Liu Yichen was the next to tell a story. He often told tales of their ancient ancestors and the exploits they had gotten up to. Very quickly, it became apparent to Liu Qingge that his father had chosen this particular story for its parallels to his own situation: an ancestor who had been a powerful cultivator had been inflicted with a curse that blocked their power but eventually they had triumphed, breaking the curse and regaining their power. The tale had plenty of adventure and even a touch of romance. Liu Qingge admittedly enjoyed it, even if he was a bit embarrassed that it was told largely for his benefit. He knew it was coming from a place of love and encouragement and no one made any comments that would have made things awkward.

Liu Qingge’s grandfather went next, with a lively rendition of an adventure from his own youth, rife with bandits and rogue cultivators. Liu Qingge listened raptly. These were the stories he liked best, little windows into the lives of his family. His grandmother followed up with a less rambunctious tale of the early days of her romance with her husband, sweet and heartwarming rather than rousing and amusing. Liu Qingge gave this story an equal amount of attention, trying to imagine his grandparents as a young couple so deeply in love with each other they were willing to defy the wishes of their own parents to be together. He watched the two of them share a secret smile as she finished the telling, just as obviously enamored with one another now as they were decades prior, the moment full of steadfast affection. Liu Qingge felt a pang of wistfulness. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have a relationship like theirs; in some alternate universe, maybe he could have had something like it with Shen Qingqiu.

He realized that love stories on opposite ends of the spectrum existed simultaneously in his family, from the passionate affair of his grandparents to the gradual slowburn of his parents’ arranged match. Love came in many varieties and forms and there was no right or wrong way to engage in it. The thought left a bud of tentative hope in his heart.

With a little coaxing, Yang Yixuan told a story next. His tone started out somewhat hesitant but grew in confidence as he warmed to both his subject and his audience. He talked about one of the very first missions Liu Qingge had taken him on as a new disciple. Liu Qingge remembered the incident clearly. They had gone to a small village to investigate the reports of a curse hanging over the entire town and plaguing the residents with misfortune and bad luck. People had met with accidents, though none had yet been fatal, livestock had gone missing, roofs had collapsed, crops had begun to fail. All of the signs had pointed to a vengeful witch in the vicinity. The villagers had certainly believed that to be the case and were confident they knew who the culprit was. They had directed Liu Qingge to a grove in the forest a sichen’s walk away, where a woman named Bai Fang lived in a tiny hut. Liu Qingge had approached cautiously, expecting a potential attack from a crazed witch, but what he and his disciple had found instead was a mild-mannered and gentle woman with several disfigurements. One of Bai Fang’s legs was shorter than the other, so she walked slowly and with a limp. Her right hand was frozen into a clawed position, three of her fingers fused together, and a dark birthmark covered a large portion of her face. After talking with her briefly, Liu Qingge determined Bai Fang was not a witch at all and certainly not the cause of the village’s troubles.

Bai Fang was unsurprised that the villagers had sent a cultivator to “deal with her”. She explained that she had grown up in the village but had always been treated as less than dirt by her neighbors and even her own relatives. When she became a teenager, she left the village to live on her own. Survival had proved challenging with her handicaps and she had been nearly ready to admit defeat and return to the village when she found an injured man in the forest, shot through the shoulder with an arrow. Bai Fang had tended to his wound and nursed him back to health. He had stayed with her since. They had fallen in love and now thought of each other as husband and wife. As she had been telling all of this to Liu Qingge and Yang Yixuan, Bai Fang’s husband returned from hunting in the woods and Liu Qingge instantly recognized him for what he was. He wasn’t a man at all but a demon.

The demon admitted to being the one who had cursed the village, seeking a bit of revenge on behalf of his beloved who had been so wronged by her community. Liu Qingge couldn’t say he blamed the demon much but he still tried to persuade him to undo the magic. It wasn’t until Bai Fang had requested her husband remove the curse that he complied. Liu Qingge knew the demon had done so purely for his wife’s sake; he hadn’t missed the tender expression in the demon’s eyes as he’d held her hands in his, cradling her disfigured fingers as if they were the most precious jewels.

Liu Qingge had left the little hut in the forest in a melancholy mood, reflecting on the nature of humans, demons, and love. He’d refused the villagers’ payment, saying only that he’d gotten the curse lifted, hoping that would be enough for the small-minded locals to leave Bai Fang and her demon alone.

“Shizun taught me that everyone deserves a chance to be heard,” Yang Yixuan said as he wound down his narrative. “And that sometimes things aren’t how they appear at first glance. I’ve followed these principles in every mission I’ve undertaken since then. I’m always grateful for the wisdom Shizun imparted that day.” Yang Yixuan shot his mentor a brilliant smile and Liu Qingge found himself helpless to resist returning it, his lips quirking as his heart swelled with fondness.

A flurry of comments and questions rose up and Yang Yixuan’s attention was drawn to attempting to answer them as best he could. Liu Qingge was taken by surprise when someone took his hand; he glanced over to find Shen Qingqiu giving him the most tender look he’d ever been graced with, bringing a stutter to Liu Qingge’s heart and a lump to his throat. His fellow peak lord offered a gentle smile and then laced their fingers together, squeezing.

“I always knew you were tenderhearted, Qingge,” Shen Qingqiu said softly, his expression unbearably fond.

Liu Qingge blushed, lifting a shoulder in a shrug, eager to play off the implications of the story. “I had to set a good example for my disciple,” he muttered.

Luo Binghe had been sitting quietly up until now, his expression unreadable, but now he turned his dark eyes on Liu Qingge. “Don’t sell yourself short, Shishu,” he murmured, his handsome features melting into something deeply emotional and layered that Liu Qingge couldn’t even begin to parse. “You did the right thing and we all know you would have done the same thing even if no one had been there to bear witness.” He paused and studied Liu Qingge’s face for a long moment before continuing, “Thank you, Shishu, for sparing that demon.” The words were simple enough but it was obvious the sentiment behind them meant a lot to Luo Binghe, his eyes shining with conviction.

Liu Qingge swallowed, his throat suddenly dry, and tried not to fidget. “Like you said, it was the right thing to do.”

Shen Qingqiu’s lips curved in a small smile. “You can always be depended upon to do what’s right, Shidi.” There was a beat of quiet and his expression turned bashful, cheeks flushing a pretty shade of pink as he asked in a softer tone, “May I continue holding your hand?”

Liu Qingge nodded shyly. The storytelling started up again and he allowed Shen Qingqiu to hold his hand the whole time, his heart soaring. For once, he didn’t let himself wonder if it was the proper thing or not. He only knew that it felt like the right thing.

Chapter 20

Notes:

Hello, lovelies! A bit of an interlude in this chapter but hopefully an enjoyable one. Our boy Qingge is having some thoughts, to say the least. Tags have been updated, as well as a bump in rating! OMG lol

Also I'm having a thought: would anyone potentially be interested in bound and printed copies of this fic when it's completed? Let me know your thoughts on this and the chapter in the comments. I'll see you there!

After the storytelling, Liu Qingge took the chance to pass out the gifts he’d been hoarding in his qiankun pouch to the women in the family. Zhang Liling was as delighted with the set of throwing knives as he’d hoped she would be, earning him a wide smile and a kiss on the cheek. Chen Mingzhu cradled the ornate iron ruler in her hands as carefully as if it were made of glass rather than metal, her eyes soft as she thanked him, expressing eagerness to try the weapon out on the training grounds. Wu Mei gasped in open admiration at the battle fan Liu Qingge had chosen for her, even rising from her chair to maneuver the fan in several combat forms, praising its balanced construction before crushing her grandson in an enthusiastic hug. When Liu Qingge returned to his own chair, Liu Mingyan grinned at him.

“I see the gifts you chose all went over well,” she commented.

He huffed. “Thankfully.”

His sister waved a hand dismissively. “You could have given any of them the ugliest, most useless junk and they all would have cherished it. Don’t know if you’ve realized this, Qingge, but it’s less about the gift and more about the fact that it’s from you.”

Liu Qingge flushed in embarrassment. “Still,” he said. “I’d rather have the gifts be appreciated for what they are too.” He reached back into his quiankun pouch and fished around for a moment before making a small noise of triumph and withdrawing a slim wooden case. “Say what you want about the quality of the gifts, but I think you’d rather receive something like this than useless junk,” he quipped with a small smile, passing the case over to his sister.

Liu Mingyan took it with a surprised expression. “For me?”

“Of course, I got you something too,” Liu Qingge said, giving her a mildly exasperated look. “I’ve had this for a while, so you didn’t see me picking it up in Doho City with the others. This was a custom order.”

“Oh.” Mingyan unfastened the latch on the case and opened it. Inside was a new set of writing brushes, finely crafted from the wood of the rare heartblood willow; the wood was naturally a rich red color, with deeper shades giving depth and the lines of the grain nearly black. The brushes were plain, allowing the stunning colors in the wood to be their own showpiece, but they had been polished and lacquered to a high shine, making the hues even more vivid. Mingyan made an appreciative noise, plucking one of the pair of brushes up to admire it more closely. “Heartblood willow! How beautiful.”

“I remembered you were saying you would be needing new brushes soon one night when you were over for supper,” Liu Qingge murmured, watching Mingyan turn the brushes over and over between her fingers, studying the fine grain of the wood. “I hope you’re not disappointed that I didn’t get you a weapon.”

Mingyan laughed, her smile wide and eyes twinkling. “Not at all,” she assured him, reaching over to squeeze his forearm gratefully. “This is even better. I love these. Thank you, Qingge.”

Liu Qingge nodded, his heart swelling with fondness. He knew his sister spent a lot of time writing and even if he had no desire to read any of her work, knowing the contents as he did, he still wished to be supportive of her endeavors because that’s what good siblings did. “Now you can get back to your writing,” he said with a little grin.

Liu Mingyan flushed as she closed the case. “I’m still embarrassed that you found out about that.”

“Word makes its way around the sect,” Liu Qingge said with a shrug. “As long as it makes you happy, I have no issue with it.”

“I appreciate that,” Mingyan murmured. She paused and then reached for her own qiankun pouch. “I have something for you as well.”

Immediately, Liu Qingge found himself flustered. He wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of gift-giving at all. “You didn’t have to,” he protested as if that would stop his sister.

There was a small box in Mingyan’s hands. She hesitated, looking down at it as she spoke, her tone quieter than before. “I hope you don’t find it offensive or upsetting. I bought these before I understood the significance but I still feel like you should have them.” She held the box out to him, her expression cautiously hopeful.

Liu Qingge took it, his brows furrowed as he wondered what she could be giving him that he could possibly find upsetting. He held her gaze for a moment and then looked down at the little box, opening it. Inside lay a familiar pair of earrings, the pair he’d tried on in Doho City. The polished labradorite glittered up at him in the flickering light of the lanterns and braziers. His breath caught and he stared, hands trembling minutely.

“I hope one day you can appreciate them and even wear them again,” Mingyan said hurriedly, interpreting his silence as a negative reaction. “And that if you do, you can think of me and the rest of your family and how much we all love you.” She gave a nervous chuckle. “Besides that, they’re pretty and you deserve pretty things.”

Her words had brought a lump to Liu Qingge’s throat and the prickle of tears behind his eyes. He thought he understood what she was trying to say, that these earrings could be part of his healing. He could take back something that had been stolen from him and make it his again. He swallowed, throat clicking, and looked up at his sister. “Thank you,” he said, voice nearly a whisper. He wasn’t sure what else to say but his expression must have said more than any words could because Mingyan nearly slumped in relief.

“You’re welcome,” she replied softly, the corners of her lips curving in a gentle smile as the corners of her eyes crinkled. She reached over to lay her hand over his, squeezing reassuringly.

Liu Qingge wasn’t sure when he would feel like wearing the earrings but he would cherish them and keep them safe until then. He closed the little box and slid it into his pouch with a sense of something like reverence.

Conversation continued into the night, and wine was poured liberally for whoever wanted it. Liu Qingge indulged in a cup as he settled more deeply into his chair and idly listened to the threads of conversation around him. The main hall was warm and dimly lit; the atmosphere combined with the wine eventually made his eyes heavy. He slumped over, listing onto Shen Qingqiu’s shoulder without entirely realizing what he was doing. He drifted in and out of a light doze there for an unknown amount of time until finally, Shen Qingqiu stirred and gently extricated himself out from under Liu Qingge. Careful hands set him upright in his chair.

“Hmm?” Liu Qingge hummed questioningly, blinking and yawning.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Shidi,” Shen Qingqiu murmured softly, his lips curved in a gentle smile and green eyes soft. His hands lingered on Liu Qingge’s biceps as if he were afraid the other man would tip right back over if he let go. “But we’re headed off to bed. Perhaps you should go too.”

Liu Qingge looked around to find that half of his relatives and their guests had departed during his doze. His parents remained, sitting close to one another and talking quietly, sharing smiles and soft laughter. Jinhai was passed out in his chair, long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, empty wine cup still clutched loosely in his fingers. His head was tipped back and his mouth was open. If Liu Qingge had been more awake himself, he would have snickered at the sight. The chair beside Liu Qingge was empty, his sister apparently having excused herself for the night some time ago. Mu Qingfang was nowhere to be seen.

The thought of bed was inviting, even if it was only the bed in the guest room and not his own.

Liu Qingge grunted in belated agreement to Shen Qingqiu’s words and felt around for his qiankun pouch. He found it wedged against the side of the chair and slipped it inside his robes before standing up. Shen Qingqiu let go of him only reluctantly, moving aside so Liu Qingge could place his empty cup on a nearby side table with several others for the servants to clear away later. He trailed after the couple toward the front doors, flicking Jinhai on the forehead as he passed, startling his cousin into a loud undignified snort.

Outside, the moon was shining full and bright overhead, wispy clouds floating across its face. A gentle breeze blew, rustling the draping leaves of the ancestral willow in the courtyard. Ahead of Liu Qingge, Shen Qingqiu walked with his hand looped through the crook of Luo Binghe’s elbow, their heads tilted toward each other as if sharing a secret. Liu Qingge looked away from the sight resolutely, tipping his head back to admire the moon. He stopped by the willow, trailing his fingers through the leaves, listening to the sounds of the night. Off in the forest, an owl hooted. Crickets chirped. He breathed, savoring the stillness. He remembered sneaking out here as a young boy, to sit at the base of the willow, using his nascent cultivation skills to feel the tree’s life force, its roots anchoring it into the ground. As a teenager, he’d done the same as a way to clear his mind, his own personal kind of meditation. Now, he found himself wishing he could reach out in the same manner, his heart aching at the fact that he couldn’t. Still, the tree’s presence was comforting and the night magical in its own right. He stood among the willow branches, watching the moon, for a while before he decided he ought to move along and go to bed.

Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu had long since gone on ahead, leaving him to his own devices, but as he entered the next courtyard, Liu Qingge spotted them once more. They hadn’t quite made it to their rooms. Shen Qingqiu’s back was pressed to one of the porch pillars, his arms looped around Luo Binghe’s neck as the demon lord kissed him eagerly. This was nothing Liu Qingge had never seen before but the sight of Luo Binghe’s hand sliding down to grip Shen Qingqiu’s thigh and lift his leg up around his waist, revealing pale skin as green robes fell away, tripped Liu Qingge’s steps up. His breath caught in his throat and his cheeks heated almost immediately. A stab of heat settled low in his gut as he wondered just how bare Shen Qingqiu was under his robes. As Shen Qingqiu arched against Luo Binghe’s body welcomingly and a pleased rumble resonated in Binghe’s throat, Liu Qingge tore his eyes away and hurried across the far side of the courtyard, trying not to attract any attention. Though it was doubtful the couple would have noticed him, wrapped up in each other as they were.

He didn’t slow down until he reached the door of the guest room. He found himself momentarily thankful he wasn’t moved back into his own rooms just yet, as this current arrangement put some more distance between him and what he’d just seen. His cheeks were still burning as he slipped through the door into the dark room beyond. His heart hammered in his chest. It wasn’t until after closing the door and pausing for a steadying breath that Liu Qingge realized his cock was half-hard, obviously interested in the activities taking place in the next courtyard over. He flushed even more hotly, embarrassed at himself even as he huffed in annoyance. He’d touched himself just that morning. How was that not enough?! It seemed without the benefit of his cultivation, his body could be quite demanding.

Resolutely deciding to ignore his burgeoning arousal, he set about his nighttime routine. Starting up the coals in the brazier was the first order of business after lighting a lantern. It was annoying to not be able to use his spiritual energy for such mundane tasks. Not that he always did but having the option to was nice. Next, he pulled his qiankun pouch out from where he'd tucked it and laid it on the bedside table, then took his hair down, setting the hair crown on the table near the pouch. Liu Qingge took a long moment to shake his hair loose, pulling it over his shoulder to rake his fingers through it mindlessly while his traitorous mind wandered, imagining someone else doing this for him, Shen Qingqiu's nimble digits gently untangling his tresses. It was a hazy, relaxing fantasy until his thoughts took a hard turn into wondering how mussed up Shen Qingqiu's own hair ended up after a tumble in bed with Binghe, tousled strands around flushed cheeks. The mental image only stoked the curl of arousal in Liu Qingge's belly.

Then things devolved further when the next logical step was to imagine Luo Binghe's strong fingers winding into Shen Qingqiu's hair, or perhaps Liu Qingge's own, his grip firm. The demon lord could throw Liu Qingge around in combat with little effort so there was no reason to think he couldn't manhandle him just as easily during sex. Liu Qingge found he didn't hate the thought. Nor was the idea of having his hair pulled unappealing; he'd enjoyed it years ago when he'd dallied with those other disciples. He had a good amount more hair now than he did then after letting it grow for nearly two decades. There would be plenty for Binghe to latch onto, wrap around his fist for leverage.

Liu Qingge bit his lip, rubbing his thighs together in a bid to relieve some of the building tension in his groin. His cock had filled out, straining against his trousers, fully hard now. So much for ignoring it. With an annoyed huff, Liu Qingge set about stripping off his robes and slipping into a sleeping robe, shivering at both the cool air and the brush of the fabric along his cock. The sensation set his teeth on edge, a muscle in his jaw jumping as he swiftly folded his garments and set them aside. He slipped into bed after dousing the lantern, muttering curses.

He lay on his back in the dark, eyes open and staring at the ceiling. His mind was tired but now his body was awake, a fine conundrum to have at this late hour. He sighed and crossed his arms atop the blankets, feeling petulant. He just wanted to go to sleep and forget about what he'd seen. He didn't want to think about what Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe might be up to at that very moment. He didn't want to think about how, deep down, he wanted to join them, be held and caressed by them, to be cared for by them. Maybe even loved.

In the darkness, it was easier to admit to things he was beginning to accept that he wanted. He wasn't sure how to feel about that fact.

Liu Qingge was restless. After an unknown amount of time laying there wide awake, he accepted that he was going to have to address his arousal before he could sleep. A hand snaked down over the blankets, fingers tracing the outline of his cock where it still lay hard against his stomach. The faint pressure was enough to make his hips shift and push upward, seeking a firmer touch. He let out a resigned breath and flipped the covers back, wasting no time in reaching for the ties of his robe. When his chest was bared, he pinched his nipples almost harshly, drawing a gasp from his lips. It felt just as good as the last time but he was in no mood to tease himself, already worked up so he didn’t linger.

Impatient, he reached down to take himself in hand, wrapping long fingers around his cock and tugging. His free hand slid lower, cupping his balls and fondling them. The pleasure was bright and strong and Liu Qingge pressed his head back into the pillow, moaning lowly. He squeezed a bit tighter around his cock at the same time that he slid his fingertips past his balls and firmly along the skin just below them, massaging in time with his strokes. Before he knew it, he was panting and drawing his knees up and digging in his heels for leverage, hips bucking.

The pleasure was enough to curl his toes but it also ignited a hunger in him that he hadn’t felt in many years: a sudden, sharp need to have something inside him, to be filled by something. His belly tightened in arousal at the thought, stealing his breath. The firm pressure of a fingertip across his entrance confirmed this need, sending his hips twitching and his whole body shuddering in anticipation. Despite this, it was still a challenge to pull his hands away entirely so he could reach over and grasp for his qiankun pouch, rooting around in it until he located a vial of sword oil by touch alone.

Liu Qingge made a little noise of victory as he withdrew the vial and tossed the pouch aside. A flick of his thumb had the vial uncorked, the oil’s tangy herbal scent wafting forth immediately. It would work well enough for now; it wasn’t like he was in the habit of carrying a more appropriate oil around with him. Liu Qingge’s hands shook the slightest bit as he poured out a generous amount of the oil onto his fingers, hurriedly capping the vial again and tossing it in the direction the pouch had gone. He only took a few moments to spread the oil around, barely long enough for it to begin to warm before his hand was back down between his legs.

The first touch of his slick fingers across his hole had him gasping and his knees splaying out even further, hips canting upward for easier access. He spread the oil around his rim several times before letting out a long breath and pressing his finger past the initial resistance until it slipped inside. Liu Qingge sighed at the pressure, at the way his body accepted the intrusion as he pushed in further. His thighs shook minutely and the fingers of his free hand curled reflexively in the sheets. Against his stomach, his neglected cock twitched.

It didn’t take long to build up a steady rhythm of moving his finger in and out before he felt his rim relax and open more easily. He added a second finger without hesitation, biting his lip and groaning at the greater stretch and the faint burn it brought. It had been so long since he’d done this, he’d forgotten how good it could be, the way the pleasure mounted steadily alongside the burn with every thrust of his fingers, complimenting one another in equal measure until his body had loosened even more, the slick slide nearly effortless and only a strain on his wrist. Liu Qingge’s hips rocked shamelessly into the thrusts, a fine sheen of sweat forming across his chest in the cool air. He drove his fingers as deep as possible and crooked them, searching for that special spot. The angle wasn’t optimal so his fingertips just bumped the edge of that place inside him but it was still enough to have his mouth falling open on a loud moan and his toes curling into the sheets. His hips bucked frantically, seeking more of that feeling, more pressure, more depth, even as the true satisfaction of having direct, unrelenting attention on that spot eluded him.

He couldn’t help but think about how long Luo Binghe’s fingers were. They would have no trouble reaching.

Liu Qingge whined in blissful frustration, loosening his hand from among the sheets and reaching for his cock. He was so hard it hurt, the shaft throbbing when he wrapped his fingers around it. The stimulation in his ass had him leaking profusely, enough to slick the glide of his palm as he stroked in time with the fingers thrusting in his hole. The pleasure was all-consuming, pushing him inexorably toward the peak. A few fleeting stray thoughts about Shen Qingqiu’s smooth thighs and Luo Binghe’s large strong hands were enough to push him over, body tensing with an orgasm so intense it nearly hurt, coming all over his fingers and belly, cock pulsing and hole clenching.

Slumping back into the pillows and sheets, Liu Qingge tried to catch his breath as he carefully pulled his hands away from his sensitive body. He huffed when he realized he would have to get out of bed to clean up but his next line of thought was much more discombobulating: he had just pleasured himself to thoughts of Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu, both together and with him. His ruminations about his fellow peak lord in the past had always been overwhelmingly romantic in nature and not necessarily sexual, so this was uncharted territory. He’d never imagined anything beyond a kiss and handholding, perhaps keeping Shen Qingqiu in a bubble of manufactured purity due to his unattainable status. Or maybe his high levels of respect and admiration for the man’s intellect and wisdom played into it as well, somehow believing Shen Qingqiu above the baser desires of men. Which, after Maigu Ridge and the evidence of what happened there between Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe, didn’t make much sense at all. Sex and dual cultivation were undoubtedly a facet of their relationship. Acknowledging this and finding himself interested was a bit embarrassing.

Luo Binghe, on the other hand, was another matter entirely. Liu Qingge had found himself thinking of the demon lord in a more blatantly sexual manner several times recently and it seemed that curiosity was only growing and deepening. Binghe had done nothing since his connection to Xin Mo was severed to warrant Liu Qingge’s fear or apprehension and he had found himself growing ever more comfortable in the man’s presence. Luo Binghe had looked after him when he had suffered his recent qi deviation, had been solicitous of Liu Qingge’s health and feelings. Liu Qingge could imagine it might end up being easier to trust Binghe than he had at first thought. The history they shared separate from either of their connections to Shen Qingqiu was a layer of something unique to only them, providing a sense of intimacy neither could find elsewhere. Plus, the physical nature of their interactions made it simpler to think about dual cultivation together. There was something tangible in Liu Qingge’s relationship with Luo Binghe that he hadn’t experienced with Shen Qingqiu, as of yet anyway.

Liu Qingge sighed; it was too late at night to be plagued by such thoughts. He ought to clean up and try to sleep. Tomorrow would be the lantern lighting portion of the festival, one of his favorite parts and it wouldn’t do to be exhausted. He carefully left the bed in search of a rag and some water, feeling sticky and uncomfortable now that the pleasure had subsided. He wiped himself down hurriedly, already looking forward to a bath when he woke up. Then he wrapped his sleeping robe around his body once more, tying it closed and then settling back under the covers.

His last thought before sleep overtook him was that the bed was cold and for perhaps the first time ever, he wished someone was there to wrap their arms around him.

Chapter 21

Notes:

Howdy, dear readers! Here's the promised update, just making the weekend deadline in my time zone (oops). I had a busy weekend but we made it! I hope this chapter brings you all the feels; it's a bit of a rollercoaster but it ends well for our boy Qingge <3

Please enjoy and scream about it in the comments! I'll see you there :D

Upon waking, Liu Qingge was still embarrassed about his fantasizing from the previous night, still cold by himself in bed, and to top it off, his head ached. He drug himself out of bed and into a hot bath, seeking to chase away the chill that had seemingly settled into his bones. He scrubbed until his skin was red and his cheeks were flushed from the steam, taking care to wash away all evidence of his pleasurable actions. He felt unsettled for reasons he couldn’t entirely name but he suspected it had to do with the realizations that had arrived in his post-orgasm clarity.

He dried off and dressed quickly, sitting down to comb his hair just as a knock came at his door. He grunted his permission for whoever was there to enter and the door opened to admit Mu Qingfang. The doctor was looking wide awake and as put-together as always; he had likely been up and about for a few hours already, always an early riser, even earlier than Liu Qingge.

“I came to check on you,” Mu Qingfang said without preamble. “How are you feeling?”

“My head is killing me,” Liu Qingge muttered, yanking his comb through the ends of his hair. “But it’s probably the wine I drank last night.”

Mu Qingfang frowned at him, coming closer to drag over another stool to sit on. “You do become so grumpy when you don’t feel well,” he commented, holding out a hand. Liu Qingge huffed and stopped his task, dropping a wrist into his friend’s palm. Mu Qingfang’s gaze turned inward as he prodded at Liu Qingge’s spiritual veins carefully. “No change,” he murmured.

“Of course not,” Liu Qingge couldn’t help but retort, squeezing his comb hard in his other hand. The fact that he could have easily snapped the wood if he’d had his cultivation just soured his mood further. “I haven’t fucked the demon just yet, you know.”

Gods, but he hated his circumstances so much in that moment.

Mu Qingfang shot him an unimpressed look. “You can choose to do so at any time,” he quipped in response. “You have that ability. That choice is yours, Qingge. There’s no sense in getting huffy about it as if it were beyond your control.”

“Perhaps but the circumstances that got me here were beyond my control and I fucking hate that!” The words spilled out before he could entirely understand what he was saying, but in the next moment, he realized it was true enough. He was angry about things, a new layer of emotion he hadn’t fully reached before this point. There had been hurt and fear and shame; now there was anger. An indignation that he had even been put in this position, to begin with. He wasn’t sure what had sparked it this morning, maybe his frustration with his body and the truths it had shown him, but here he was.

Mu Qingfang made a noise of agreement. “Completely understandable. None of what happened to you was fair.”

“No, it fucking wasn’t,” Liu Qingge agreed heatedly, tossing his comb down harshly. He didn’t give a shit if his hair was still tangled and messy right now. “I wish I could kill that bastard again and not do it out of fear.” Mu Qingfang said nothing, just continued to sit with his hands in his lap, expression non-judgmental. “Now I’m stuck here, with no control over my body and ultimately faced with choices that aren’t really choices at all if I want to get my cultivation back.” Liu Qingge could almost feel his anger and indignation burning away his shame, slowly but surely. His hands curled into fists against his knees as he resisted the temptation to sweep all the objects off the bedside table with a brush of his forearm.

There was a pause and then Mu Qingfang murmured, “I was wondering when you were going to get mad about what happened.”

Liu Qingge sighed, tucking his chin and not meeting his friend’s eyes as he said, “I’m sorry. I’m not angry at you.”

Mu Qingfang clapped a hand on his shoulder, squeezing. “I know you’re not. And anger is natural, even healthy in this case. Maybe you should go take out some of it on the practice dummies at the training grounds.”

Liu Qingge nodded stiffly. That sounded like a splendid plan and would keep him from unintentionally treating any of the people he loved like shit.

“Don’t forget to take your medicine first, though,” Mu Qingfang reminded him as he stood up.

It hit Liu Qingge suddenly that he had neglected to take a dose before bed the previous night. “Dammit,” he muttered. “I forgot all about it last night.”

Mu Qingfang huffed good-naturedly. “One missed dose won’t kill you but don’t forget again,” he scolded in a half-serious tone.

Liu Qingge made a noise of acknowledgment. “Got it.”

“And I would advise taking something for your head before it gets worse, as well,” Mu Qingfang mused, already headed for the door. “Are your regular treatments in your room?”

“Yes,” Liu Qingge replied, frowning.

“I’ll go get them if you’re fine with me going in there,” Mu Qingfang offered, hand on the door. “You can finish combing your hair in the meantime.” A not-so-subtle hint was plain to hear in his tone.

“Yes, fine, thank you,” Liu Qingge muttered gruffly, reaching for his discarded comb again.

Mu Qingfang huffed a small laugh as he exited. “Good. I’ll be back soon.”

Liu Qingge resumed working his comb through his hair angrily. When Mu Qingfang returned a short time later, he deposited the many jars and bottles with the usual treatments on the side table without a word. He had also brought Cheng Luan.

+++

Liu Qingge skipped breakfast, wanting to avoid his family while he was still in such a sour mood, and headed straight for the training grounds, the familiar weight of Cheng Luan in hand.

The morning had dawned bright and clear and the air was full of birdsong and colorful leaves floating on the breeze on their way to the ground. The training yard was empty, which suited Liu Qingge just fine. He’d left his hair loose while it dried from his bath and it swirled along with his robes as he took to the field with his beloved weapon, running through sword forms steadily and deliberately. He might be short his cultivation but his body still knew what to do, the movements so ingrained that he hardly had to think of them as he twisted his way across the open space from one end to the other. It was reassuring to know his muscles hadn’t forgotten what they needed to do, bringing a level of comfort and satisfaction he’d been sorely missing.

After completing the forms, Liu Qingge moved on to deploying them against a practice dummy. He moved swiftly, though not as swiftly as he could with his cultivation, and that just made him angry again, erasing the calm he’d attained. Before he knew what he was doing, his carefully honed technique had dissipated and he was hacking at the dummy mercilessly, without a lick of finesse. All he could see was Deng Rouhuan’s smug face and cruel eyes. He wished he could hack the memory of the man out of his consciousness with the same ferocity with which he was swinging Cheng Luan now.

Finally, he grew tired, the swing of his arm slowing until it stopped and Cheng Luan hung limply at his side. Gasping in exertion, Liu Qingge leaned forward to knock his sweaty forehead against the dummy’s shoulder, letting it support him as he tried to catch his breath. The rage had simmered down, though it wasn’t completely gone. His body trembled minutely in the wake of such strong emotion but at least now he didn’t feel like he would explode at the next person who dared to speak to him.

“Wear yourself out there, my boy?” Li Jun’s voice floated over from the side of the training yard, startling Liu Qingge a bit. He straightened up and looked over to see the old man leaning on his cane and watching him with a knowing eye.

“That was the idea,” Liu Qingge replied, stepping back from the dummy and raising Cheng Luan to wipe the blade across his sleeve, cleaning away the dust that his feet had kicked up. Now that his anger had mostly subsided, looking at the sword in his hands just brought a deep sadness instead.

“Haven’t seen you spouting such steam out your ears since you were a teenager,” Li Jun commented mildly. “Better to do so here than out there, where it might cost you your life, I reckon.” He waved a hand toward the manor wall and the forest beyond.

Liu Qingge grunted in agreement. The old man was right. A lapse in his control here where he was safe was preferable to some time down the line in the future when the outside world would prey on it. He stepped away to retrieve Cheng Luan’s scabbard from the ground, giving it a shake to knock off a few bits of dirt before sheathing his spiritual weapon. He would have to give the sword a proper cleaning later. When he turned back to Li Jun, the old man’s gaze was steady but kind on him.

“Have you ever been so angry about something you can’t change that you don’t know what to do about it, gong-gong?” Liu Qingge couldn’t help asking.

Li Jun smiled beatifically. “Oh yes, many times,” he replied easily. “Anger is a part of life, I’m afraid, though many men let it make fools of them. But I know you aren’t a fool, my boy.”

Liu Qingge huffed a soft laugh. “Glad to know you think so well of me.”

Li Jun tapped his cane on the ground. “I mean it. You haven’t gotten where you are by being a fool. Don’t forget that.” He paused, looking thoughtful, before continuing. “Whenever I got hot under the collar about something, I let myself be mad for a while and then I looked for ways to remedy what I could of the situation. It helped to have something to focus on and I felt useful again, even if the larger circumstances were out of my purview. So what can you do now to help you feel like you’re taking some agency back?”

Liu Qingge already knew the answer. His mother had practically dumped it in his lap the previous day. He had been raped and he couldn’t change that. He had been assaulted and he couldn’t change that, either. He suspected he would still feel cross about those facts for a while. But the other fact, that he’d had his cultivation blocked, he could do something about, just as Mu Qingfang had said not long ago. He knew what he could do about it. He knew his mother had been right when she had urged him to talk to Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu. And if the previous night had been any indication, he couldn’t keep putting it off forever. He’d go insane. And he knew himself well enough to know he would use his frustration and anger as an excuse to close himself off even further from them if he didn’t consciously take steps to avoid it.

Was he nervous? Definitely. Was he scared? Yes. But when had Liu Qingge ever let fear get the best of him? A simple conversation seemed more daunting than most of the battles he’d fought but that didn’t mean he couldn’t overcome it.

His thoughts must have shown across his face because Li Jun chuckled. “See? There you’ve got your answer already. You know what you need to do.”

One corner of Liu Qingge’s lips curved up self-deprecatingly. “You’re only the third person to have to remind me in as many days.”

Li Jun grinned. “No one ever said you weren’t stubborn, mule-headed when it suited you, actually--”

Liu Qingge held up a hand to cut the old man off. “Please, gong-gong, have mercy on me.”

Li Jun snorted but his eyes were alight. “Go on, no sense in delaying further!”

Liu Qingge squeezed Li Jun’s shoulder in silent thanks as he passed by, hurrying away from the training grounds with one goal in mind, to finally be honest about what he wanted, in the light of day.

+++

Liu Qingge burst into the main hall in a flurry of swirling robes and streaming hair, a bit dusty and sweaty, Cheng Luan tight in his grip. Several people were gathered at the table there, including his mother, aunt, his disciple, and the two he was looking for: Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe. They all startled a bit at his wild appearance, brows shooting up in surprised inquiry. Before anyone could say anything, Liu Qingge announced, “I need to speak to Shen Qingqiu and his husband.”

He was proud of the way his voice didn’t waver despite the hammering of his heart and the trembling of his hands.

Shen Qingqiu paused with a calligraphy brush in hand; Liu Qingge saw that he was working on illustrating a paper lantern for the lighting that night. They all were busy with the same task, he saw upon a closer look. He would have to get to one of his own later. First things first.

“Of course, Shidi,” Shen Qingqiu said mildly, setting the brush aside on a jade rest, glancing at Luo Binghe. The demon lord did the same without a word, looking rather apprehensive. Shen Qingqiu stood, only the way he immediately began to fidget with his folded fan breaking his demeanor of elegance and grace. “Come, Binghe.”

Liu Qingge caught his mother’s eye from where she had been sitting across from Shen Qingqiu. She offered him a little smile, her expression both hopeful and knowing. He flushed but returned her smile tentatively. Beside her, Zhang Liling was grinning and mouthed “good luck” at him. Liu Qingge’s blush deepened. Did the whole family know of his romantic woes? He should have expected that his mother and sister would talk among themselves and that his aunt and grandmother would end up sucked in along the way. Oh well. If all went well, a formal announcement could be made soon enough. Yang Yixuan was the only one looking truly confused and concerned; Liu Qingge would have to trust the women to assure his disciple all was well.

None of the trio spoke until they’d made it outside and the doors of the main hall had closed solidly behind them. Then Shen Qingqiu asked carefully, “What has you in such a flurry, Shidi?”

Liu Qingge took a deep breath and let it out slowly before plunging ahead. “I need to talk to both of you about…my situation. With the curse and all that.”

Shen Qingqiu made a soft surprised sound. “Of course, Shidi. This is obviously important to you.”

“It is,” Liu Qingge agreed. He led the way toward the ancestral willow in the center of the courtyard, reaching out a hand to part the draping leaves and slipping between them. The other two followed, Shen Qingqiu first and then Luo Binghe. When the curtain of leaves closed behind them, they were fairly well hidden from any prying eyes, not that any of his family would spy on them. They would be curious, certainly, but he knew they would be respectful. Still, the layer of privacy bolstered his courage. Liu Qingge put his back to the tree’s broad trunk, leaning against it, savoring the familiarity as he set off on proverbial uncharted waters. “I’ve been putting off further discussion about my curse because I was embarrassed and scared,” he admitted into the quiet air surrounding them.

Shen Qingqiu appeared troubled by this, his fine brows drawing together. “Why were you scared? I hope you know we are still willing to help you.”

Liu Qingge transferred Cheng Luan to his other hand and wiped his sweaty palm on his robes, uncaring that his nervousness was in plain sight. “I know. I was--I still am--scared of what might happen after.”

“Is Shishu afraid we would abandon him after he’s cured?” Luo Binghe asked softly, his gentle tone belying his undeniable presence that seemed to loom behind Shen Qingqiu, tall and broad.

Liu Qingge was grateful that Luo Binghe had cut straight to the issue. “Yes,” he murmured, unable to meet either of their gazes. His cheeks heated; it seemed almost silly when he heard it said aloud like that. “I want dual cultivation to mean something. I don’t just want it to be an obligation,” he added in a rush before he could overthink his words and convince himself to stay silent.

There was a pause during which Liu Qingge could barely breathe, both of his hands curling tightly around his sword as if it were a lifeline. The press of building panic squeezed at his chest as several heartbeats ticked by, until Luo Binghe spoke again, his voice just as gentle as before.

“Shishu, I told you in the kitchens that dual cultivation with you is never going to be a burden or an obligation and I meant it. You are a beautiful man and I would be honored to share pleasure with you and restore your cultivation.” Luo Binghe paused and let out a breath before continuing, “And afterward if you wished to continue a relationship, I would very much want that too.”

Cheeks blazing, Liu Qingge’s eyes shot up to catch Luo Binghe’s gaze. “W-what are you saying?” he stammered, clutching Cheng Luan to his chest unconsciously.

Shen Qingqiu spoke up next, a little smile pulling at his lips. “What Binghe means is that we would like to court you, Qingge, officially. As you deserve.”

Liu Qingge’s brain stuttered to a halt. His mouth fell open. He hadn’t anticipated that his mother could have been quite so correct about these two and their intentions. They had beaten him to the punch, so to speak, to steal one of Shen Qingqiu’s odd phrases, which wasn’t all bad considering his own thoughts about relationships and courting and dual cultivation had all been mashed together and not even approaching coherence beyond a knowing that he wanted all of it, with them.

He must have gaped at them for long enough that Shen Qingqiu grew faintly concerned. “Shidi?” he asked carefully. “Are you alright?”

“I think we broke him, Shizun,” Luo Binghe said in a tone of mixed concern and amusement.

Liu Qingge forced his jaw closed with a clack, swallowing, before meeting both their gazes in turn. “I’m just surprised,” he admitted.

Shen Qingqiu chuckled. “You don’t say? Could have fooled me,” he teased lightly, reaching out to poke playfully at Liu Qingge’s shoulder with his fan.

Liu Qingge loosened a hand from Cheng Luan to reach up and grab at the offending fan. “Do you truly mean it? That you want to court me?”

Shen Qingqiu grew serious once more. “Absolutely. Remember when I said we came on this trip to have a chance to talk to you? This is what I meant. We’ve been wanting to ask you for a while now.”

“Shizun and I have discussed the matter over and over,” Luo Binghe added, eyes shining with sincerity. Once again, Liu Qingge thought about how easy it would be to offer this man his complete trust. “We both want this. We both want you.”

Liu Qingge’s heart swelled at those words. He had no idea how much he’d craved hearing them. A sting of relieved and grateful tears pricked his eyes. “Thank you,” he murmured. “I also…want both of you.” He forced the words out, cheeks flaming hot, lower lip trembling with a rush of emotion he couldn’t even fully parse. It was just so much to know he was wanted, to know that his feelings were reciprocated. He’d been so terrified of the alternatives, he hadn’t considered what this would feel like.

Shen Qingqiu had moved closer, reaching out a careful hand to gently cup Liu Qingge’s cheek. His thumb swept along the jut of his cheekbone and across the beauty mark under his eye. Liu Qingge couldn’t help but lean into the touch, his eyes closing tightly until a stray tear leaked out.

“Are you alright?” Shen Qingqiu asked again, voice nearly a whisper.

Liu Qingge nodded, sniffling. “I’m just overwhelmed,” he replied shakily. He paused, opening his eyes once more, tears caught in his lashes like glittering jewels. “But I’m happy, I promise. And relieved.”

Shen Qingqiu's thumb wiped his lone tear away. The man's expression was complicated, happy but also surprised and maybe a little bit devastated. "As long as your tears aren't sorrowful," he murmured.

One corner of Liu Qingge's mouth lifted. "Not this time."

Shen Quingqiu huffed a soft laugh. "Qingge," he said softly, lips still quirked upward and his eyes impossibly soft. "May I kiss you?"

Liu Qingge let out a sigh of something like disbelief. "Yes," he breathed.

Then Shen Qingqiu was moving further into his space and leaning in, his chin tilting upward a bit since Liu Qingge was the taller of the two of them, his palm still warm against Liu Qingge's cheek. His breath ghosted across Liu Qingge's lips a moment before their lips met in their first kiss and Liu Qingge's brain stuttered.

The pressure was perfect, not too light or too hard. Shen Qingqiu's mouth was soft and supple, his lips an intoxicating mixture of confidence and shyness. Liu Qingge’s heart hammered as if it were trying to break free and escape his chest. His hand curled in the soft folds of Shen Qingqiu’s green robes as he kissed back, trying to pour every ounce of love and affection into the gesture as he could, willing Shen Qingqiu to feel it, to understand how long he’d waited for this, how deep his devotion ran. He wasn’t sure how successful he was but when they finally parted, Shen Qingqiu was a little breathless, his eyes a little dazed even as he smiled.

Liu Qingge couldn’t look away. He had to bite his tongue from blurting out I love you even though he desperately wanted to. Was it too soon? Just because Shen Qingqiu wanted to court him, it didn’t mean he loved Liu Qingge. Sure, Shen Qingqiu was fond of him, they were friends, after all, but love was something else entirely. So he swallowed the words, for now.

Luo Binghe certainly knew and understood the depth of Liu Qingge’s feelings. His gaze was soft and knowing when he finally caught Liu Qingge’s eye, lips curling in a satisfied little smile. Liu Qingge flushed, wondering what was running through the other man’s mind.

“Well?” he blustered. “Are you going to kiss me too?” His flush deepened until his cheeks were burning hot; he couldn’t believe he was being so forward.

Luo Binghe’s expression reflected surprise, his brows reaching for his hairline. “D-does Shishu want me to?” he stammered, uncharacteristically flustered. His face was open and genuine and Liu Qingge could tell he’d caught him off guard.

Liu Qingge huffed, finally releasing his hold on Shen Qingqiu’s robes to beckon to Luo Binghe instead. “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want you to,” he insisted, holding Binghe’s gaze. “You just said you look forward to dual cultivating with me but now you’re shocked I want a kiss?”

Shen Qingqiu laughed, moving aside to make room for his husband. “You best oblige, Binghe. Give our Qingge what he wants.”

Liu Qingge’s breath hitched at hearing himself referred to in such a way. Our Qingge. It sounded nice. He thought he could get used to being their Qingge. A moment later, he couldn’t think anymore because Luo Binghe was there, all broad shoulders and sturdy chest, sliding an arm around Liu Qingge’s waist and pulling him flush against his body and capturing his mouth in a searing kiss.

Kissing Luo Binghe was different than kissing Shen Qingqiu but equally as good, equally as enjoyable in its own way. Binghe’s lips moved with purpose, his tongue sneaking out to swipe along Liu Qingge’s lower lip playfully. His kiss was deep and forceful and Liu Qingge felt like he was along for the ride, cresting a great wave of sensation that sent tingles all the way to his toes. One arm had looped itself around Binghe’s neck, his other hand, still clutching his sword, trapped between their chests. Luo Binghe kissed Liu Qingge for what seemed a long time, heedless of the weapon pressed into his muscles. When he finally pulled away, it was Liu Qingge’s turn to be breathless and a little dazed.

Mostly though, he was happy. Suddenly the world seemed a lot brighter.

When the trio left the sheltering vale of the willow, Liu Qingge was sandwiched between the other two, their shoulders pressed together as if they had always been meant to be together this way.

Chapter 22

Notes:

I have returned with a longer update. I hope you all enjoy it! Lots of bonding here and Qingge figuring out where his boundaries are for the time being.

As always, comments are appreciated! You all are amazing <3333

Chen Mingzhu smiled so wide Liu Qingge could nearly see her molars when he told her about his newly minted courtship status upon returning to the main hall. Her eyes sparkled with pure joy as she folded her son into her arms, hugging him tightly. “This is amazing news,” she said warmly, the smile palpable in her voice. “I am so pleased for you.”

“Thank you, Mama.” Liu Qingge sagged gratefully in her hold. His heart was still thumping and his palms still sweaty. The last half-sichen seemed surreal, like a pleasant dream. He was still trying to wrap his own mind around the fact that Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe were now officially courting him.

Zhang Liling was squealing in delight, bounding over to join the embrace, plastering herself to her nephew’s back. “I’m so happy for you, Qingge! I wish for nothing but the best for you and your suitors!”

Liu Qingge chuckled into his mother’s shoulder. “I appreciate that, Auntie. Thank you.”

“You’ve grown up so fast,” Zhang Liling sighed dramatically, squeezing his ribcage. As if he weren’t approaching forty! “I can’t wait for the wedding!” she continued, tone bright and chipper, as if his marital status was already a foregone conclusion.

Liu Qingge squirmed, his face flaming in embarrassment. “Auntie!” he admonished. “It’s much too soon to be thinking about that!”

Zhang Liling laughed as she released him from her death grip. “If you say so,” she replied amusedly, sneaking a hand over to pinch his cheek before darting away again. Liu Qingge was left with the distinct feeling that she knew something he didn’t, which couldn’t possibly be correct.

When he stepped back from his mother’s arms, she cupped the same cheek his aunt had pinched, smoothing the faint red mark with her thumb. Her eyes were soft as she studied his face. “I told you I would support you if an arrangement could be reached that satisfied all parties involved,” she said, her lips still curved in a beautiful smile. “I meant it then and I mean it now. As long as you’re happy and being treated well, I am satisfied.”

Liu Qingge nodded, reaching up to cover her hand with his own. “I hope Father agrees.” It was the one factor in all this that had him a bit nervous. He’d never even had occasion to speak with Liu Yichen about matters of the heart much beyond the fact that he hadn’t wanted to marry Deng Rouhuan. He knew his father wouldn’t force him to do anything he didn’t want to do but he had never had to tell Yichen someone had won his heart, either. The potential for awkwardness was off the charts.

Chen Mingzhu chuckled, patting his cheek. “Your father will agree,” she said confidently. “He loves you more than he can adequately express, Qingge, and wishes for your happiness just as much as I do.”

Liu Qingge swallowed a sudden lump of emotion in his throat, nodding. He didn’t doubt his mother spoke the truth. He had seen how his father had taken it when he'd been told about his son's rape. Liu Qingge knew his father could be stern at times, reticent at others, but he loved deeply regardless.

Shen Qingqiu appeared at Liu Qingge’s elbow, looking almost bashful for interrupting. He offered a little smile that made Liu Qingge’s heart stutter, his slender fingers finding Liu Qingge’s and lacing between them, squeezing lightly. “Qingge, will you come sit with us while we finish our lanterns?”

Chen Mingzhu smiled and gave her son a nod, a tacit release from their conversation. No doubt she hadn’t missed the fact that they were holding hands, either, even if Shen Qingqiu’s wide sleeve hid much from view. “There are extra lanterns on the side table in case you wanted to work on one of your own,” she added helpfully.

“Ah, yes, I suppose this would be a good time for that,” Liu Qingge murmured, giving his mother a grateful look before turning to catch Shen Qingqiu’s gaze. His fellow peak lord beamed and tugged gently at his hand, already moving in the direction of the table. Liu Qingge found himself following willingly, quietly amazed at the fact that he was allowed to hold Shen Qingqiu’s hand now.

Soon, the two of them settled back at the main table, Shen Qingqiu into his prior seat where his previously abandoned lantern still sat, and Liu Qingge into the empty chair next to him, bringing a fresh lantern with him. On Shen Qingqiu’s other side, Luo Binghe was back in his prior spot and finishing the illustration on his own lantern, a delicate drawing of a flowering branch Liu Qingge recognized as being from the ice blossom tree, which grew only in the wintry northern regions of the demon realm and flowered year round there in the frigid temperatures. He knew the blossoms were fragile, their petals crystal clear, and they symbolized many things for the demon race, including strength, luck, and victory. An appropriate choice for a lantern meant to honor one’s ancestors and familial roots. Binghe’s drawing perfectly captured the fragility and crystalline beauty of the flowers. It would figure that the man had no small amount of talent in artistic pursuits as well as martial arts and cooking and seemingly everything he ever tried his hand at. Across from the demon lord, Yang Yixuan was still in his chair, his finished lantern covered in a series of scrawled characters which Liu Qingge didn’t look too hard at, wanting to give his disciple a measure of privacy. Not everything written or drawn on the lanterns was meant for sharing, after all. But Liu Qingge couldn’t help but notice the way Yang Yixuan’s shoulders were hunched, his arms crossed over his chest, and the faintly troubled expression marring his features.

Liu Qingge caught his disciple’s eye as he carefully mixed ink, shooting him a questioning look. The young man’s brows furrowed but he shook his head minutely. A moment later, he rose, pushing his chair back with a screech, snatched up his lantern, and fairly stomped out of the hall. Liu Qingge watched him go with a frown, pausing with a freshly ink-loaded brush in hand. What had gotten into his disciple? He was so used to Yang Yixuan being even-tempered or plainly cheerful that when he wasn’t it seemed even more jarring than it might have otherwise. Liu Qingge’s frown deepened as he put brush to paper.

Shen Qingqiu’s fingertip smoothed over the space between Liu Qingge’s brows. “What has you frowning so hard, Qingge?”

Liu Qingge paused again, halfway through writing a wish for the continued health of his grandparents. “My disciple seems upset about something.”

Shen Qingqiu hummed softly, his fingers smoothing through the loose strands of Liu Qingge’s hair falling over his shoulder. “I noticed,” he murmured. “You should go speak with him.”

“Yes, I’ll have to.” Liu Qingge sighed. “I want to give him some time to cool off first.”

Shen Qingqiu smiled. “You’ve done an excellent job training him, Shidi. I haven’t really had a chance to tell you that. I had simply hoped you’d get used to each other but you’ve really bonded, haven’t you?”

Liu Qingge flushed at the praise, secretly pleased. “We have,” he agreed quietly. “Yang Yixuan has an abundance of talent, too. He’ll make a good peak lord one day.” He paused and then added, “You had a good eye when you recommended him to me.”

Shen Qingqiu looked embarrassed. “No need to say such things about me, Shidi. You deserve all the credit here. You've put in the work."

Liu Qingge hummed quietly, secretly pleased with the praise, and continued working on the lantern, the strokes of his characters steady and true. It was his typical practice to write wishes for all his loved ones rather than drawing anything as Luo Binghe had done. Liu Qingge had little artistic ability to speak of, though he had been taught brush painting as a child. Perhaps if he had been a more patient person he could have cultivated some skill in it but it never seemed important in comparison to his martial skills. Now a tiny part of him wished he could have something impressive or pretty to show off like Luo Binghe’s delicately rendered ice blossoms or the airy illustration of bamboo shoots and cherry blossoms Shen Qingqiu had put on his own lantern. When Liu Qingge finished, he set the lantern aside and carefully began cleaning his brush as fastidiously as if it were Cheng Luan, trying to banish his self-consciousness.

Shen Qingqiu leaned into his space, glancing at his handiwork briefly before respectfully drawing his eyes away again much as Liu Qingge had done earlier with Yang Yixuan’s lantern. “Well wishes?” he asked with a soft smile.

Liu Qingge flushed and nodded. “I am no artist,” he murmured by way of explanation, shrugging a bit.

“Your artistry lies in your cultivation and martial skill,” Shen Qingqiu commented, lightly tapping Liu Qingge’s forearm almost reproachfully with his folded fan. “But this is equally lovely as any painting, Shidi. It came from your heart.” Shen Qingqiu smiled wider and leaned over to plant a light kiss on Liu Qingge’s cheek before moving away again. “I know you’re utterly sincere in whatever you’ve written.”

Liu Qingge couldn’t look at Shen Qingqiu, embarrassed even as his chest warmed at the other man’s words, declared in the utmost confidence. Shen Qingqiu truly seemed to believe Liu Qingge had something to offer even when Liu Qingge himself doubted it. He finished cleaning his brush and set it aside just as Shen Qingqiu spoke again, his tone a bit bashful.

“I have a request to make of Shidi.”

Liu Qingge hummed questioningly, turning his cleaning efforts to the inkwell.

Shen Qingqiu cleared his throat. “I bought a battle fan in Doho City,” he said almost sheepishly. “I was taken by its beauty when I saw it in the shop but--” He paused briefly and then finished lamely, “--but I have no idea how to use it.”

Liu Qingge glanced over at him, one corner of his mouth quirking. “And you wish for me to teach you,” he said, more a statement than a question.

Shen Qingqiu laughed softly, snapping the folded fan in his hand open and hiding behind it. Liu Qingge recognized it as one he had gifted the other peak lord many years prior. It seemed Shen Qingqiu had kept all, or nearly all, of the fans Liu Qingge had given him over the years. “Precisely.”

Liu Qingge snorted. “Well, you already know some basics for when you use your regular fan to funnel your qi so teaching you some more in-depth techniques shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Truly?” Shen Qingqiu sounded delighted, his eyes shining eagerly. “I’d be forever in Shidi’s debt.”

“Nonsense.” Liu Qingge waved a hand dismissively. “It’s always been enjoyable to spar with you.”

The tips of Shen Qingqiu’s ears were turning pink. “I was always afraid you would be bored,” he confessed. “I’m not nearly as challenging of an opponent as you usually prefer.”

It was Liu Qingge’s turn to flush. “It was never about the challenge,” he replied quietly, keeping his eyes on the inkwell as he continued wiping out the remnants of the used ink. “It was just about being able to spend time with you.”

On Shen Qingqiu’s other side, Luo Binghe coughed, startling both peak lords. Obviously, he had been eavesdropping. Shen Qingqiu wasted no time in snapping his fan closed and delivering a solid whack to Binghe’s forearm with it. “Binghe!” he scolded. “It’s rude to listen in.”

Luo Binghe shot them both a look of mixed apology and fondness. “I’m sorry, Shizun,” he murmured, dark eyes huge and glistening. “I didn’t mean to interrupt the moment but Shishu was being so sweet, I couldn’t contain myself.” Liu Qingge noticed that he had made certain to differentiate that he was sorry for interrupting but not for eavesdropping; he bit back a smile at the man’s thinly veiled audacity.

Shen Qingqiu sighed and gave his husband a gently chiding look. “If you want to be included in the conversation, you can just say so.”

Luo Binghe grinned. “I’d like to come watch Shishu instruct you with the battle fan!”

“I have no objections,” Liu Qingge said, setting the cleaned inkwell down and shooting Luo Binghe a curious glance. “In fact, why are you not teaching him yourself?”

Luo Binghe’s expression grew somewhat embarrassed, his cheeks coloring in a pleasing way. “I actually have no experience with battle fans either,” he confessed. “They aren’t a common weapon in the demon realm and being a physical cultivator means swords were my specialty. Surely Shishu understands.”

Liu Qingge huffed. “I’m a physical cultivator and still learned the fan arts at a young age. That’s not an excuse.”

Luo Binghe’s lips curled in a smile, equal parts hopeful and something else Liu Qingge could only call flirtatious. Gods help him. “Shishu could rectify this oversight in my training?”

Liu Qingge tried to act annoyed but he couldn’t hide his small answering smile for long. “I suppose so. If one then why not both of you?”

They made plans to meet at the training grounds within the hour; all the while Luo Binghe looked all too pleased with himself and Shen Qingqiu waved his fan idly, looking nervous and excited. It would be a good way to while away the afternoon until the evening festivities. When Liu Qingge pushed his chair back to stand up, Shen Qingqiu caught his wrist, halting him. When he turned back questioningly, he was met with a pair of warm lips meeting his own as Shen Qingqiu leaned over to kiss him. Liu Qingge made a surprised noise but melted into the liplock soon enough, kissing back eagerly.

When they parted, Shen Qingqiu murmured, “Thank you.” Somehow it sounded like he was referring to more than just the martial arts instruction.

Liu Qingge nodded, a bit breathless, as he stood and reached for his lantern. He would stow it in the guest room for now, away from curious eyes, until the lighting that night. “Of course. I’ll just--” He motioned in the vague direction of the doors, flustered.

Shen Qingqiu smiled, eyes alight. “We’ll see you in a little while, then.”

Liu Qingge left the main hall feeling incandescently happy for the first time in a very long time.

+++

He stowed the lantern and took the time to put his hair up, then found Yang Yixuan at the training grounds when he arrived there, unceremoniously whacking the very same training dummy Liu Qingge had attacked earlier. Liu Qingge paused at the edge of the field, watching, a wry grin twitching at his lips. It seemed his own habits really had rubbed off on his disciple, at least in some regards. He crossed his arms and waited quietly for the young man to exhaust himself.

It didn’t take long, considering Yang Yixuan must have been at this for the majority of the time Liu Qingge had been working on his lantern. His stamina still wasn’t as great as his shizun’s, either. Soon enough, the disciple’s attacks slowed and then stopped and he was left standing in front of the dummy with Jia Xue clutched tightly in one hand, harsh breaths the only sound in the courtyard.

Shaking his head and clicking his tongue, Liu Qingge made his way over. “Loosen that grip,” he instructed, coming close enough to nudge Yang Yixuan’s sword arm. “You’ll just strain your muscles unnecessarily and tire yourself out faster.”

Yang Yixuan jolted in surprise; it seemed he had been deep in his own thoughts for him to have missed his master’s approach. Liu Qingge hadn’t even been trying to be stealthy, either. “Shizun!” he exclaimed, spine straightening as he caught sight of Liu Qingge.

“Yes, it’s me,” Liu Qingge said with an arched brow. He jerked his chin at the dummy. “What has you so upset that you forgot everything I’ve taught you in the last several years?”

The young man had the grace to look sheepish. “Shizun saw?”

Liu Qingge snorted, crossing his arms again. “I did. I also saw the way you stomped out of the main hall.” He paused and when he spoke next, his tone had gentled somewhat. “What’s wrong, Yixuan?”

“It’s nothing,” Yang Yixuan insisted, looking alarmed and embarrassed now. He held up his free hand as if to wave off Liu Qingge’s concern.

“Yixuan.” Liu Qingge’s voice took on a sterner edge. At times, the boy was too much like him, too stubborn, too concerned about burdening others. He had to be pushed a bit to be forthcoming.

Yang Yixuan almost appeared as though he would argue for a long moment before he visibly crumpled, again looking sheepish. “Please forgive this disciple, Shizun,” he murmured, eyes lowering until they found the trampled ground underfoot. “It’s not my place to question you or doubt your decisions, especially when they don’t concern me personally.”

Liu Qingge’s brows furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

Any chance of his disciple elaborating was dashed when the crunch of gravel underfoot heralded the arrival of Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe. Upon seeing them, Yang Yixuan closed off again, his expression shuttering in a way that Liu Qingge knew meant he would get nothing more out of the young man. He sighed and motioned to Jia Xue’s scabbard where it lay discarded on the ground nearby. “Make sure you--”

“Clean up my weapon, I know,” Yang Yixuan cut in, looking rebellious for a moment until he seemed to remember who he was actually speaking to. “Shizun,” he added hastily. “Forgive this disciple’s impertinence.” He cupped his hands in a quick bow, Jia Xue’s tip pointed toward the ground respectfully.

Liu Qingge waved him off. “You don’t have to do that,” he muttered. Having others bow to him like this always made him feel somewhat uncomfortable, whether he was their teacher or not.

Yang Yixuan stepped back to scoop up the scabbard, sheathing his sword quickly. It seemed now that the others had appeared, he wished to be gone as soon as possible, which was unlike Liu Qingge’s friendly and outgoing student. He decided not to bring it up or push the matter; perhaps Yang Yixuan just needed some time alone. He’d try to talk to him again later.

“Go, if you want,” Liu Qingge said, stepping aside so the younger man could move past him.

“Thank you, Shizun.” Yang Yixuan’s voice was quiet. His steps were hurried as he left the training grounds, disappearing through the gate with barely a glance at Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe.

Luo Binghe watched him go with a slight frown but it was Shen Qingqiu who spoke when the two of them drew within easy speaking distance. “Is everything alright, Shidi?”

Liu Qingge sighed, gazing off in the direction his disciple had gone for a moment. “I don’t know,” he replied honestly, brows furrowing. “Something’s on his mind.”

“Ah. Well, perhaps he just needs some time to himself,” Shen Qingqiu mused, looking thoughtful.

“Maybe. I’ll check in with him again later.” Liu Qingge turned back, spotting the fan in Shen Qingqiu’s hand. He held out his own hand for it. “May I?”

Shen Qingqiu offered up the fan easily. Liu Qingge spent a short time admiring the weapon and handling it. The fan was much heavier than any of the paper and bamboo fans Shen Qingqiu normally carried, constructed of sturdy steel ribs and deep green brocade embroidered in a golden phoenix pattern, a swirl of shining gold, yellow, orange, and red threads against the earthy background. It was beautiful and well-made, reminiscent of the one Liu Qingge had bought for his grandmother. When he snapped it open, it made a satisfyingly loud crack.

“You chose well,” he complimented Shen Qingqiu. “This is a fine weapon.” His fellow peak lord looked pleased and relieved. “It’s a bit heavy but not overly large so it still shouldn’t take much for it to work for you.”

Liu Qingge had Shen Qingqiu run through his paces of qi-channeling movements, first without the fan and then again with it, allowing him to feel the difference and get used to the fan’s weight and size. Liu Qingge followed along, providing a small correction here and there, but overall Shen Qingqiu’s form was very nearly flawless. Lou Binghe watched from a short distance away, dark eyes intent. Liu Qingge could feel his gaze, roaming up and down his body, bringing a pleasant shiver along his spine.

After a while, Liu Qingge called out, “Luo Binghe! If you’ve had quite enough of watching, come and join in.” The demon lord laughed quietly but made no argument, obligingly stepping out onto the field and slipping easily into the flow of movements with the other two men. Soon, all three of them were twisting, turning, and leaping across the ground in lockstep. Liu Qingge could feel the quiet hum of Shen Qingqiu’s qi flowing next to him like a peaceful river, tugging ever so gently at his blocked meridians, as if calling for his own spiritual energy to join in their dance. The tugging never became painful but it was just intense enough to make his breath catch in his throat. He wondered if this was what it had felt like all those years ago when he had diligently and carefully cleared Shen Qingqiu’s meridians every couple of weeks after he had been poisoned. It seemed Shen Qingqiu didn’t even realize what was happening, his eyes closed as he let his spiritual energy guide him, expression calm and placid.

Luo Binghe was obviously keeping his own qi tightly controlled but Liu Qingge could still sense the faintest brush of it along his skin, leaving tingles and gooseflesh in its wake, making his hair stand on end. It felt like a whisper of electricity, crackling and potentially dangerous. It was familiar even if Liu Qingge couldn’t fully feel it just then; he remembered clearly what the onslaught of that demonic energy felt like, even what it tasted like on his tongue in close-quarters combat, a zap of ozone in the air around him. He could admit he was curious about what it would feel like in a gentler application like that of dual cultivation. He could nearly imagine how it might feel sliding along his spiritual veins, burning out the curse. He supposed he would be finding out at some point in the near future.

When Liu Qingge called a halt to the basic forms, Luo Binghe eyed him shamelessly and grinned lazily, as if he could guess where Liu Qingge’s thoughts had been. Liu Qingge blushed and did his best to glare at the demon lord, which only made Binghe grin wider. Huffing, Liu Qingge turned his attention resolutely to Shen Qingqiu, who was oblivious to the wordless exchange going on between the other two men, fixated on his fan.

“I think I like this,” he mused, glancing up at Liu Qingge with a little smile. “It feels natural.”

“Good,” Liu Qingge grunted, nodding approvingly. “Time for some more advanced forms, then.”

Liu Qingge demonstrated several more complicated combat forms and then watched and critiqued carefully when Shen Qingqiu tried them out. The Qing Jing peak lord was taking to the movements like a fish to water, exceeding any half-formed expectations Liu Qingge might have had. He smiled as he observed, pleased.

“He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” Luo Binghe commented, suddenly stepping up beside Liu Qingge, pressing his shoulder to Liu Qingge’s. Liu Qingge made a noise of agreement, unable to look away from Shen Qingqiu in all his glory of streaming hair and swirling robes, elegant steps sure and swift. The man’s expression was concentrated but elated, as though he were finding simple joy in the movement. It was a sentiment Liu Qingge understood well; he felt something like it every time he picked up Cheng Luan to spar or fight.

Shen Qingqiu finished the round of combat forms, beaming in satisfaction as he snapped the fan open and closed several times. “What’s next, Shidi?” he asked eagerly.

Liu Qingge guided Shen Qingqiu slowly and methodically through the next separate set of moves. They were more complicated yet and he maneuvered the other man’s long limbs into the proper placements with a light and sure touch. Luo Binghe followed along, mirroring them, a smile stretching his lips. Liu Qingge caught him winking at Shen Qingqiu who then proceeded to trip over his own feet, flustered. He fell back into Liu Qingge with a surprised squeak, all his poise and elegance from only moments before suddenly vanishing.

“Aiyah, careful!” Liu Qingge’s arms automatically came up to catch Shen Qingqiu, wrapping around him securely, drawing him against his chest.

Shen Qingqiu’s free hand reached up and wrapped around Liu Qingge’s wrist. “Oof, sorry, Qingge.”

Luo Binghe was chuckling, looking entirely too pleased with himself and this development. “Liu-Shishu is always so dependable,” he said, pushing his curls over his shoulder. “It makes me glad to know I can trust you with Shizun’s welfare.”

Liu Qingge’s cheeks heated. “You wouldn’t have to if you weren’t purposely trying to fluster him,” he chided but there was no real heat in the words. He couldn’t complain with any honesty about having Shen Qingqiu in his arms. He gave the man in question a squeeze.

“Shizun is too easy to fluster,” Luo Binghe quipped, unrepentant. He moved close, reaching up to catch his husband’s chin between his fingers, leaning down for a kiss. He pressed in until Shen Qingqiu melted against him, sandwiched between Luo Binghe and Liu Qingge. He made a pleased sound deep in his throat, bringing an answering curl of heat to Liu Qingge’s gut. When Luo Binghe pulled back from the kiss, his eyes found Liu Qingge’s over Shen Qingqiu’s head, twinkling with a mix of mischief and heat.

Shen Qingqiu pushed at Binghe’s chest half-heartedly with the hand clutching the closed fan. “You beast,” he muttered, sounding breathless. Luo Binghe laughed and leaned over his husband’s shoulder, a hand coming up to cup the back of Liu Qingge’s neck, capturing Liu Qingge’s mouth in a searing kiss before he could even think of moving away.

Truthfully, Liu Qingge didn’t want to. Binghe’s fingers were warm and strong against his neck, sliding up the slightest bit into the hair at the base of his skull. Though his grip was undeniable it wasn’t overbearing; he guided Liu Qingge into the kiss gently. Their lips moved together in a hot crush that stole Liu Qingge’s breath in the best way. He gasped and Luo Binghe took the chance to lick his way into Liu Qingge’s mouth, their tongues meeting in a sloppy slide that had Liu Qingge’s toes curling in his boots and a groan rumbling in his throat. Between them, Shen Qingqiu made a disgruntled noise where his face was pressed into his husband’s broad chest.

“I can’t see,” he whined, sounding for all the world like he was about to stamp his foot in outrage.

Luo Binghe made a noise that sounded like a laugh. He curled his tongue around Liu Qingge’s one last time in an absolutely filthy demonstration of his skills and then pulled back, teeth catching Liu Qingge’s lower lip and tugging before he let go completely. Liu Qingge gasped for breath, heart racing and face flushed. His lips felt swollen and his cock was already beginning to fill out. Shen Qingqiu could undoubtedly feel it because he pressed his ass back for several long moments, sighing appreciatively. Liu Qingge was torn between pushing forward to meet him or pulling away, a bit embarrassed at his easy arousal, a bit anxious about anything going further no matter how much he was physically on board with it.

“Is husband upset with the face full of chest I gave him?” Luo Binghe asked with a laugh, cupping Shen Qingqiu’s cheek fondly.

“You can’t just kiss Qingge silly and expect me to not want to watch,” Shen Qingqiu huffed, slapping Binghe’s chest with the fan.

Liu Qingge blushed. For some reason, he had never thought that Shen Qingqiu might want to watch him and Luo Binghe together. His stomach flipped nervously at the idea of it even though he found he didn’t dislike it at all. In fact, his body seemed very much on board, cock twitching as it fattened up even more.

Shen Qingqiu chuckled breathlessly, grinding his ass backward again. “Someone certainly seems interested in that idea.”

Liu Qingge grunted, a hand settling on Shen Qingqiu's hip to still his movements. He couldn't deny that he was interested, a bit aroused, but there was also that growing twinge of nervousness in his gut. With an effort, he stepped away just enough to put some distance between them. Shen Qingqiu immediately twisted to look up at him, expression concerned through the pretty flush on his cheeks.

"Qingge? What's wrong?" The question was gentle, the tone of voice soft. Shen Qingqiu's eyes were open and nonjudgmental.

Liu Qingge swallowed and averted his gaze. "Nothing, just." He paused and searched for the right words. "I'm just nervous."

Shen Qingqiu's face reflected understanding. He turned completely within the circle of Luo Binghe's arms to face Liu Qingge so they could look at one another properly. "I'm sorry if we're making you uncomfortable," he said earnestly, clutching his fan in both hands. It seemed he wanted to reach out to Liu Qingge but wasn't sure if he'd be rebuffed, despite the fact that Liu Qingge's hand was still on his hip. "I admittedly forgot that we may be moving too fast. We can slow down."

Liu Qingge let out a breath, both relieved and embarrassed. "I'd appreciate that," he murmured. "I'm sorry." He wasn't sure exactly what he was apologizing for, whether it be his communication struggles or that he had put a damper on things. Probably both.

Luo Binghe shook his head, speaking quietly. "Please don't apologize, Shishu. You shouldn't have to move at our speed. We can move at yours."

Liu Qingge shifted nervously under their attention. "I just don't want to be a bore," he muttered.

Luo Binghe huffed a disbelieving laugh. "You could never be a bore, Shishu. Not with the way you kiss."

Liu Qingge blushed, tucking his chin and looking resolutely at the ground, unsure how to react to such a bold statement. A moment later, Shen Qingqiu's fingers finally reached up to cup his cheek. Liu Qingge glanced up in surprise.

Shen Qingqiu offered him a smile. "This is new to all of us. We can just flirt and kiss for a while. That's just fine. Alright?"

"Okay." Liu Qingge let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. The tension left his shoulders and he relaxed a bit. He had to remind himself he wasn't all that far removed from traumatic events just yet; he could imagine his sister or mother telling him to be easy on himself, to take his time. What anyone thought about that shouldn't concern him. Still, Shen Qingqiu’s reassurances were a comfort nonetheless.

Shen Qingqiu smiled gently and held up the battle fan. “Shall we continue, Shidi?”

Liu Qingge nodded. They spent the remainder of the afternoon on the training grounds until Shen Qingqiu could move through all the basic combat forms unassisted with minimal corrections while Luo Binghe looked on with no small amount of pride. When Liu Qingge began to notice that Shen Qingqiu was tiring, his steps less precise and graceful, he called for an end to the training session.

“Oh, that was hard work!” Shen Qingqiu exclaimed, using the battle fan to waft air against his sweaty face. He grinned brilliantly. “But it was fun! Thank you, Shidi.” He came forward to press a light but lingering kiss to Liu Qingge’s lips.

Liu Qingge grunted in a mix of satisfaction and surprise. “It was my pleasure,” he murmured bashfully, flushing.

“More tomorrow?” Shen Qingqiu asked hopefully, blinking big eyes up at Liu Qingge. A skill he no doubt had picked up from his husband, Liu Qingge thought wryly as he bit back a smile, nodding his assent.

As the trio began to make their way toward the exit, Luo Binghe bumped his shoulder into Liu Qingge’s. “Shishu,” he whined. “What about me?”

“What about you?” Liu Qingge shot the other man a sideways glance as they walked.

“You promised you’d train me too but you gave Shizun all the attention.” He pouted dramatically, pushing out his lower lip and playing up the sad eyes.

Liu Qingge snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

“You did.”

“Hmm. Well, I’m a man of my word. So I’ll train you tomorrow after Shen Qingqiu tires,” Liu Qingge declared, unable to hold back a little smile.

Luo Binghe smiled wide, his discomfiture instantly cast aside. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“Ugh, I need a bath,” Shen Qingqiu said then, flapping his wide sleeves as if trying to invite cool air in underneath his layers of robes. “It’s about time to begin preparations for the evening festivities, isn’t it?”

Liu Qingge made a noise of agreement. “Yes. The banquet begins just before sunset.”

“Perfect.” Shen Qingqiu flipped his hair back over his shoulder, green ribbons flying. “I can bathe and then put on fresh clothes.” He paused and looked over at Liu Qingge. “Will we be parting now?” He sounded disappointed, reluctant to leave Liu Qingge’s company. Liu Qingge’s heart skipped a beat at the thought.

“Afraid so,” he murmured. “I need to clean up as well. But I’ll meet you both back at the main hall.”

In the next courtyard, Liu Qingge parted from the pair with a sweet kiss from Shen Qingqiu and another from Luo Binghe filled with tightly controlled hunger that made his knees shake as he stepped back. He made his way toward his guest room with a spring in his step and a smile on his lips, already looking forward to the evening ahead.

Chapter 23

Notes:

Howdy, all! Back with a longer update. So, a touch of angst, a lot of BingLiu relationship growth, and some spice. Hope you all enjoy! Tags have been updated.

See you in the comments!

Liu Qingge bathed and took the time to dress carefully for the evening. His nicest set of Bai Zhan robes was embroidered with clouds in varying shades of blues and greys along the cuffs and lapels, the white silk of the outer robe brocaded in a swirling pattern to complement the theme. These garments weren’t as fancy as the formal robes he’d not so much as looked at since the night of his assault but they were much more elegant than his typical day-to-day garb. He usually saved them for occasions like inter-sect meetings he was required to attend and make a good impression during. He thought they would suit the occasion of his first banquet as Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe’s official partner just fine.

It was as he was preparing to put his hair up that he realized the accompanying hair crown’s embedded jewel was labradorite, its shimmering blues and greys shining up at him as he cradled it in his palm. He immediately thought of the earrings Mingyan had given him, tucked away in his qiankun pouch for safekeeping. They would match the hair crown, making a splendid set. He couldn’t deny the effect would be beautiful.

Liu Qingge hesitated, uncertain. Part of him wanted to reach for the pouch and withdraw the earrings. Another part of him balked, hung up on what the jewelry might mean. If he wore the earrings, did Deng Rouhuan win, somehow? Did it mean he still had power over him? He had pawned all the earrings he’d once owned in a bid to rid himself of the man’s influence. He hadn’t wanted the reminders of what had been done to him.

He shook his head fiercely, reminding himself that these earrings had been a gift from his loving sister and had absolutely nothing to do with the man who had abused him. The earrings he’d sold two decades ago had been symbolic of the power Deng Rouhuan had leveraged over him but these new ones were representations of Mingyan’s love and care for him. They didn’t have to mean the same thing.

And a part of him did like that the earrings were pretty. He missed feeling pretty.

The realization forced a heavy breath from his lungs, and he collapsed onto the stool in front of the side table. His hands trembled slightly as he set the hair crown aside, not wishing to inadvertently damage it in his emotion. His fists curled tightly against his knees and his eyes squeezed shut against the prickling of tears. It felt like a quietly momentous revelation: he had enjoyed feeling pretty many years ago, as a young man who had the first inklings of the power of his own beauty. At seventeen, he was just beginning to truly grow into his looks. It was the time in his life when he first started to notice that other people stared at him wherever he went. Deng Rouhuan had capitalized on that, swept in, and preyed on his still-developing self-esteem, which had been consequently utterly destroyed in the wake of the rape. Liu Qingge realized now that in the weeks immediately after, he had unconsciously blamed himself for the crime committed against him, blamed his own beauty, and then sought to distance himself from it. The easiest way to do that was to be rid of any jewelry or fancy clothes. Not only was he trying to separate himself from Deng Rouhuan and his influence and anything that reminded him of the man but he was punishing himself for having enjoyed the pretty objects and the attention that came with them. In the years since then, Liu Qingge hadn’t allowed himself to even so much as look at anything pretty or fanciful without even fully realizing why other than a vague knowledge that he didn’t feel worthy of such things.

He sighed and opened his eyes, looking at his reflection in the bronze mirror, blinking the blur of gathered tears away. The planes of his face looked both familiar and not, as though he was finally seeing a hint of what other people must see when they looked at him. His stormy grey eyes, the fine brows, the mole near his eye, the sharp cheekbones, and defined jaw, all framed by the fall of his inky black hair. If he saw these features on anyone else, he would think that person was striking, if nothing else. He thought about how he always became embarrassed or uncomfortable when others complimented his appearance. Was this why, because he associated his own good looks with the wrongs that had been committed against him?

Liu Qingge studied his reflection for a moment longer before reaching for his qiankun pouch. He opened and dug around inside it until he found the little wooden box that held the earrings his sister had given to him. He slowly opened the box; the earrings lay inside, shimmering just like the hair crown's cabochon. It seemed a shame to keep them shut away from the world. One by one, he lifted them out by their silver hooks and laid them on the table beside the hair crown. The earrings appeared as though they had been made to match the hair crown, as if they had been a set. Liu Qingge sat and stared at them for a long time, debating with himself about whether or not he wanted to wear them.

Finally, he finished styling his hair, sweeping the locks back and up, and baring his face. He had started wearing his hair in a ponytail long before Deng Rouhuan had taken an interest in him, simply because it was easy and unfussy. It had become such an ingrained part of his daily life that he hadn’t thought about changing it so he could hide behind his hair after he’d been raped. Though he had cast off all the other trappings of vanity, he’d kept the hairstyle that, though simple, inadvertently showed off his face most easily. Liu Qingge huffed a breath of a laugh out, fluttering his bangs as he reached for the earrings.

He cradled them in his palm. He knew it would make his sister happy if he wore them. But more than that, he wanted to know what it felt like to feel pretty again.

Slowly, Liu Qingge slipped the earrings into his ears. The wires went in easily, the holes having been opened up recently enough that there was no discomfort. His fingers shook when he lowered his hands and looked again at his reflection in the mirror. The light caught the labradorite and flashed across the stones’ polished surfaces. The earrings were the perfect finishing touch. They were beautiful and he could admit they looked beautiful on him. He stopped short of admitting he was beautiful, however, still too uncertain about his decision to wear the earrings at all.

His hands shook as he left the guest room. Deep steady breaths all the way to the main hall had him calmed enough by the time he arrived there that no one would take one look at him and immediately ask what was wrong. He pushed through the doors and then there were no more chances to second-guess his choice in jewelry.

As soon as Shen Qingqiu caught sight of him, he rushed over, smiling wide and resplendent in shimmering green and white robes. Liu Qingge saw the exact moment the man’s eyes caught on the earrings. It wasn’t like they were hidden with his hair pulled back. Shen Qingqiu’s jaw dropped open as Liu Qingge’s stomach flipped nervously. It was all he could do to keep from wringing his hands nervously.

“Oh, Shidi, you’re wearing earrings…” Shen Qingqiu breathed with something like reverence, staring.

“W-what do you think?” Liu Qingge asked softly, unable to keep the stutter out of his voice.

Shen Qingqiu favored him with a brilliant but soft smile, pulling his eyes away from the earrings to meet Liu Qingge’s gaze. “I think you’re beautiful, Qingge.” He said it with such conviction and sincerity that Liu Qingge couldn’t bring himself to doubt it. “These really suit you. You look lovely.” Slowly, giving Liu Qingge time to speak up or pull away, he reached a hand up to touch an earring, his thumb smoothing over the lobe of Liu Qingge’s ear so gently it made his knees shake.

“Thank you,” Liu Qingge murmured, feeling shy in the face of the other man’s open admiration. But there was also a complementing twinge of contentment and joy in his chest as well, and his lips curled in a little smile.

“Come, come,” Shen Qingqiu took his hand and started forward, tugging gently. “Your mother said this banquet is less formal than the last one so there are no seating assignments. You can sit with me and Binghe.” He paused and looked back over his shoulder. “If you want to, that is.”

Liu Qingge nodded, huffing a soft laugh. “Sure, that sounds nice.”

Luo Binghe was already seated at the table and he looked up when he heard them approaching. He grinned in greeting. “I see you caught a true beauty, Shizun,” he commented lazily, eyes lingering on Liu Qingge, studying him from head to toe. Liu Qingge blushed under the scrutiny, perhaps the most blatant yet.

Luo Binghe wore black and white robes, embroidered along the lapels with a pattern in red that Liu Qingge knew hailed from the demon realm; he thought it was part of the imperial crest. If anyone in the Liu clan had any knowledge of the demonic ruling class it would raise eyebrows and prompt questions. The fact that he was wearing the design openly told Liu Qingge that he was feeling comfortable in his surroundings. Luo Binghe's shiny mass of hair was loose, spilling over his shoulders in an ethereal fall that looked soft. Liu Qingge wanted to touch it and run his fingers through the strands. He imagined it smelled good too.

“Come sit here, Shishu,” Luo Binghe invited him, patting the arm of the chair next to him, lips still curved in an eager and welcoming smile. Liu Qingge found himself unable to deny the request and moved around the table to take the seat with an acquiescing nod. Shen Qingqiu followed closely behind, his hand settled in the small of Liu Qingge’s back, a warm weight that was somehow both soothing and exciting at the same time.

The banquet was a pleasant affair, full of friendly chatter and laughter. The roast pheasant was juicy and the wine sweet but tangy. Liu Qingge indulged in both liberally, feeling truly relaxed for the first time in a long time. Several visitors passed by their table to chat, including Mu Qingfang, Liu Qingge’s grandparents, and his uncle with congratulations on their official courtship. Mu Qingfang’s eyes danced in satisfaction and Liu Qingge knew his friend was itching to gloat and tease about how he had been right all along to insist that Liu Qingge speak to Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe. Liu Qingge shot Mu Qingfang a slightly reproachful look but the other man just smiled beatifically before wishing them every happiness in a tone perfectly befitting a peak lord. Liu Qingge barely held back a snort, shaking his head in amused exasperation. His uncle winked at him saucily, his grandmother pinched his cheek gently and crowed about how beautiful he would look in red, and his grandfather offered them each individual toasts, telling them to be easy on the furniture, much to Liu Qingge’s embarrassment. It seemed his relatives were already set on him marrying Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe; neither of the other two men uttered so much as a single word against the notion. He blushed furiously but also couldn’t help smiling. He couldn’t recall the last time he had been this happy. It was an unfamiliar feeling and he wondered if it would ever truly become commonplace.

Luo Binghe was laughing, delighted, and Shen Qingqiu nearly choked on his wine. Liu Qingge thumped his back and lightheartedly admonished Liu Yiming for his lewd innuendo, begging him to leave his suitors some face. After the older Liu’s had excused themselves, Luo Binghe leaned over to murmur near Liu Qingge’s ear, his breath hot across the sensitive skin of Liu Qingge’s neck, prompting a shiver to drip down his spine.

“I won’t care about saving face when I can finally make love to you, Shishu. And I can’t make any guarantees about the safety of the furniture.”

Liu Qingge flushed and huffed, slapping Luo Binghe’s shoulder. “Beast.”

Luo Binghe chuckled and leaned back, grinning. “I think you like it.”

Liu Qingge couldn’t bring himself to deny it, which only made his flush deepen. A primal part of him did like the thought of Luo Binghe being so hungry for him that he lost himself to his instincts. It made that other part of him that wanted to be pretty and desirable purr in both satisfaction and anticipation.

When the banquet ended a full sichen later, it was fully dark outside. The stars shone overhead, twinkling jewels atop a velvet backdrop. There was only a breath of moving air; a perfect night for sending their lanterns to the skies, carrying their wishes and hopes and prayers to whichever gods might be watching and listening.

“Where are we setting the lanterns loose, Shidi?” Shen Qingqiu inquired as the three of them wandered toward the ancestral willow in the courtyard, steps unhurried as they took in the peaceful night and each other’s company. Liu Qingge was holding Shen Qingqiu’s hand again. It was quickly becoming one of his favorite things to do. Nearby, other members of the Liu clan were moving in small clusters, talking amongst themselves, and heading toward the lodgings.

“Everyone will retrieve their lanterns and meet back here at the willow,” Liu Qingge explained, watching his cousin and sister scampering off, dragging Yang Yixuan with them. His disciple had kept his distance at the banquet, resolutely not meeting his shizun’s gaze whenever Liu Qingge had tried to catch his eyes. Liu Qingge bit back a sigh; he needed to talk to his disciple soon, sit him down and listen to his concerns, whatever they may be. He recognized the way Yang Yixuan’s shoulders drooped and it worried him. It was entirely too reminiscent of how the boy had carried himself in the early months of their partnership when he’d still been unsure of his place on Bai Zhan and still actively missing his father. Liu Qingge continued, “When we send the lanterns off around the willow, it’s like the ancestors are with us.”

Shen Qingqiu hummed. “That’s lovely.”

Liu Qingge made a soft noise of agreement. It was a long-standing Liu clan tradition that he had always looked forward to as a child, back when he was still cultivating a living connection with the ancient willow. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed it during the years he had been absent from the festival.

“Your family is very aware of your ancestors,” Luo Binghe murmured from Liu Qingge’s other side where he walked just a couple of steps’ distance away.

“We take pride in our roots,” Liu Qingge replied, thinking of the willow’s roots and how they ran deep into the ground yet were somehow still vibrantly alive even after generations of his clan had trod on this ground.

“It must be nice to have that,” Luo Binghe said wistfully, so quietly the words were almost lost in the night.

Liu Qingge hesitated, feeling a bit awkward, before reaching over for Luo Binghe’s hand, carefully lacing their fingers together. Luo Binghe sucked in a startled breath; Liu Qingge had managed to take him by surprise. He squeezed the other man’s hand, gently tugging to draw Luo Binghe closer. The demon lord came easily, without hesitation, his face turned toward Liu Qingge, and his expression open and genuine. Liu Qingge realized it was the first time he had initiated any kind of affectionate touch between them. He felt a spike of heat in his cheeks and his heart skipped a beat but he hung on just a bit tighter. A moment later, he felt Luo Binghe returning the pressure.

They walked together all the way into the next courtyard, where Liu Qingge found it surprisingly difficult to let go of each hand he was holding so they could retrieve their lanterns. It would only be a short separation but he found himself almost alarmingly reluctant to leave them for the time it took him to dash to the guest room and back again.

When the trio made it back to the willow, most of the family was already there, lighting their lanterns with a snap of their fingers and a quick burst of spiritual energy. A talisman was then added to each lantern, which would cause them to crumble to ash after reaching a certain height above the treetops. This was to prevent any burning lanterns from landing in the woods and accidentally sparking a wildfire.

Luo Binghe took the stack of talismans being passed over from Liu Mingyan, studying the one on top curiously. He took one and applied it to his lantern before handing Liu Qingge the stack. “What are these for, Shishu?”

Liu Qingge explained the purpose of the talismans as he took one for himself and handed them to Shen Qingqiu. It was only when he went to apply his talisman to his own lantern that he remembered he couldn’t without his spiritual energy to make it stick properly. He also wouldn’t be able to light it, either. The realization made him grit his teeth in frustration, a sudden and unwelcome damper on his otherwise pleasant evening. He stood there with the lantern in one hand and the useless talisman in the other for the space of a heartbeat before Luo Binghe stepped close, taking Liu Qingge’s elbow gently in his grip as if offering steady reassurance.

“Let me help?” Luo Binghe asked softly.

Liu Qingge sighed through his nose, resisting the urge to stamp his foot in a manner Shen Qingqiu would have been proud of. “Fine,” he said, tone equal measures defeat and resignation, opening his hand so the talisman could be taken.

Luo Binghe flicked his fingers and the strip of paper rose from Liu Qingge’s palm, immediately flitting over and adhering to the side of the lantern, faintly glowing for a short moment as Luo Binghe’s qi activated it. He made it look laughably easy, something Liu Qingge could only dream of doing in his current state. From his other side came a snap of fingers and the flame within the lantern flickered to life. Shen Qingqiu had moved close to Liu Qingge’s side, their arms touching.

“Thank you,” Liu Qingge said quietly, caught between feeling embarrassed that he was so incapable and somehow warm at the thought that a tiny bit of each of his partners had joined with his own prayers and intentions in the lantern’s physical and energetic fabric. “Moments like this make me want to just demand the cure,” he admitted in a small voice, flushing and refusing to look at either of the men standing at his side.

Shen Qingqiu leaned in to press a kiss to Liu Qingge’s cheek. “That is entirely up to you.”

Liu Qingge sighed. “I know I shouldn’t make rash decisions but I’m beginning to get frustrated.”

“Take however much, or as little, time you need, Shidi. We’ll be here,” Shen Qingqiu assured him. Liu Qingge grunted in acknowledgment but said nothing more.

All around the willow, the Liu clan members and their guests were reaching for the sky and letting go of their lanterns. Liu Qingge did the same, Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe following suit. Liu Qingge whispered a prayer for strength and patience as he gazed upward, watching his lantern float up and away, glowing softly against the blackness of the sky, joining the cluster of other lanterns rising toward the treetops surrounding the manor and the freedom of the open skies beyond. The sight brought a lump to Liu Qingge’s throat and he swallowed, suddenly feeling wistful for sword flight.

Luo Binghe’s arm sliding around his waist distracted him from his self-pity. He tensed minutely in surprise. Luo Binghe froze. “Is this alright, Shishu?” he asked softly.

A beat passed. The warmth along his side admittedly felt nice, comforting. “Yes.” Liu Qingge nodded. “It’s fine.”

Luo Binghe let out a breath, something like a barely there sigh of relief, and pressed closer. His fingers curled lightly around Liu Qingge’s hip, warm and strong even through his robes. On his other side, Shen Qingqiu linked their hands and leaned his head against Liu Qingge’s shoulder. All three of their eyes were turned to the heavens, watching the lanterns in companionable silence even as family members drifted away in ones and twos. Eventually, Mu Qingfang drifted past, requesting Shen Qingqiu’s company almost sheepishly but hopefully. Shen Qingqiu agreed, disengaging himself from Liu Qingge apologetically, pressing a kiss to his cheek and then another to Luo Binghe’s in turn before joining the other peak lord. Liu Qingge watched them conversing as they walked away toward a nearby bench, wondering if they were finally having that talk about bestiaries. The thought made him smile a little and he couldn’t even be that put out about having his time with Shen Qingqiu interrupted. He turned his gaze back to the sky with a feeling of contentment.

As the lanterns finally began to wink out of existence as the talismans did their job, Luo Binghe cleared his throat, breaking the easy quiet between them. “Your cousin pulled me aside earlier and gave me the shovel talk,” he murmured, sounding both wryly amused and reluctantly impressed. “He’s the only one so far. When can I expect one from your father?”

“Jinhai did what?!” Liu Qingge sputtered, his brows reaching for his hairline. Liu Jinhai usually exhibited a loose, laissez-faire attitude about most things in life, in direct contrast to Liu Qingge with his need for a certain measure of control. But perhaps this shouldn’t be surprising; Liu Jinhai did know exactly who Luo Binghe was and had promised to expose him to the clan if the demon lord got up to anything unsavory. His instinct to look out for his older cousin hadn’t lessened it seemed. “What did he say?”

“Just warned me that if I didn’t treat you well I would have to face the combined wrath of the clan,” Luo Binghe replied, his fingertips rubbing a light pattern against Liu Qingge’s hipbone. “He didn’t mince words and he was very forthright without being rude. There’s no doubt about where he stands on things and I can respect that.”

There was a beat of silence and then Liu Qingge asked quietly, “And what did you say to him in response?”

“I swore to him that I would treat you the way you deserve to be treated, and love you with my whole self.” The words were said in a soft, sincere tone, and Luo Binghe’s dark eyes watched intently for Liu Qingge’s reaction as he turned to look down at him.

Liu Qingge couldn’t reply right away. He knew his expression must be dumbfounded in much the same way it had been when these two men had told him they wished to court him. His eyes were wide, shocked. His heart hammered as he stared up at Binghe. “You…think you could love me?” he breathed haltingly, unsure if he had heard correctly.

Luo Binghe offered him a small, shy smile. “I already do, Shishu.”

“W-what?” Liu Qingge stuttered, his hand coming up to twist tightly in Binghe’s lapel. “How is that--?” He cut himself off, shaking his head in disbelief. He had let himself wonder if Luo Binghe might be able to love him someday, had even admitted to himself that he wanted that, but he’d never seriously thought it could happen.

“How is it possible?” Luo Binghe filled in the blank, his hand coming up to cover Liu Qingge’s own where it clutched at his robes. “I don’t know when it happened,” he admitted, tilting his head to the side. “But I know I’ve loved you for a long time. I just was too stubborn to see it until this last year when you suddenly weren’t around anymore and I realized I missed you fiercely.” He paused and took a deep breath. “That was when I knew I didn’t want to be separated from you anymore.”

Liu Qingge let out a shaky breath. His entire body was trembling, he realized, with the force of seemingly a hundred different emotions he’d done his level best to keep bottled up and ignored for years. Longing for affection, a desire to be cherished and wanted, a yearning to be seen and loved by those he loved and cared for, all of it cracking open with Luo Binghe’s quietly earnest confession. Tears pricked at his eyes. “You truly mean it?” he whispered, searching Binghe’s face for any hint of deception, any hint of a lie.

“Truly.” Luo Binghe held his gaze steadily, unwavering.

Liu Qingge squeezed his eyes shut for a moment; a stray tear leaked out. “This seems too good to be true,” he admitted with a self-deprecating laugh. When he opened his eyes again, Luo Binghe reached out to gently swipe that single tear away with his knuckle, his touch featherlight. His expression was pained, quietly devastated.

“I’m sorry for so many things,” he murmured, studying Liu Qingge’s face. “And I know I have many things to try to make up for. But please believe me when I say that I love you. That I’m in love with you.”

Liu Qingge leaned in at the same time that he pulled at Luo Binghe’s robes, still wrapped in his fist. Their mouths met in a fierce kiss full of tongue and teeth, brimming with burgeoning passion. Liu Qingge nipped at Luo Binghe’s lower lip, reveling in the other man’s answering groan. Luo Binghe’s arms tightened around Liu Qingge, pulling him flush against his body. Liu Qingge shamelessly let his hands slide against the broad expanse of Binghe’s chest, the planes of firm muscle obvious even through the layers of his robes.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Luo Binghe said breathlessly, his large hands spreading across Liu Qingge’s lower back possessively, their pressure warm and solid. Liu Qingge couldn’t help but wonder what they would feel like against his bare skin. Binghe pressed a line of open-mouthed kisses along Liu Qingge’s jaw as Liu Qingge tilted his head to allow greater ease of access. He sighed, eyes fluttering closed, shivering in pleasure. “You drive me crazy,” Luo Binghe murmured against the sensitive skin at the corner of Liu Qingge’s jaw.

The words inspired a curl of heat in Liu Qingge’s belly. He squirmed with the first stirrings of arousal. “You drive me crazy too,” he admitted, slapping a palm against a firm pectoral in a mixture of recrimination and emphasis. The words inspired a grazing of teeth as Luo Binghe’s mouth worked its way down his neck, the scrape and gentle pinch drawing a startled gasp from Liu Qingge’s mouth. A bolt of pleasure went straight to his cock.

When Luo Binghe pulled back, his eyes were impossibly dark in the lamplight of the courtyard. “I do, huh?” His lips quirked mischievously. “How so?”

Liu Qingge huffed, brows furrowing. “I think about your hands a lot,” he blurted, tongue loosened with the hazy pleasure and dreamy quality of the night. He thought distantly that it was a good thing the courtyard had emptied of his relatives, who would be getting something of a show otherwise.

“Oh?” Luo Binghe pressed closer again, his breath hot across Liu Qingge’s ear. “Would Shishu like me to use my hands and touch him?”

Liu Qingge couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped him. “Yes, please,” he gasped.

Luo Binghe’s hands slid lower, over the swell of Liu Qingge’s ass, pleasantly firm for a few moments before gripping harder and squeezing. Luo Binghe made an appreciative noise at the same time that he tugged Liu Qingge’s hips forward, slipping a strong thigh between Liu Qingge’s legs. Liu Qingge hadn’t realized how hard he was until his pelvis pressed into that firm muscle; he let out a choked noise, surprised but pleasured, immediately rocking forward.

Luo Binghe let out a long ragged breath. “That’s it, Shishu,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “I’m here to make you feel good. I want you to feel good.”

Liu Qingge reached up to lay a palm along Luo Binghe’s jaw, guiding him into a heated kiss as he rutted along the other man’s thigh. His free hand slid up into that tempting mass of curls, finally able to tangle in the soft strands like he’d been wanting to do all evening. In his blissful haze, he inadvertently tugged on the tresses in his hold, drawing a grunt and then a moan from Binghe’s mouth. The sound only made Liu Qingge’s own arousal ratchet higher, his belly tightening with it.

“Shishu,” Luo Binghe gasped against Liu Qingge’s lips. “Shishu, let me put my mouth on you, let me suck your cock, please.”

Liu Qingge’s whole body twitched in surprised arousal. “Yes,” he agreed breathlessly, suddenly unable to think of anything beyond the idea of Binghe’s mouth around him, hot and wet.

Luo Binghe wasted no time maneuvering both of them backward, Liu Qingge stumbling along without fully realizing where they were headed until willow branches brushed his cheek. The ancestral tree! The draping leaves would certainly shield them from view, as Luo Binghe no doubt remembered, but wasn’t this somewhat sacrilegious? Liu Qingge must have made some sort of vaguely protesting noise because Luo Binghe pressed a kiss to his lips as he turned them around, backing Liu Qingge up until his back hit the tree trunk.

“I know this is unorthodox, Shishu. But I can’t wait.” And with those words, he slid down to his knees, hands already working at the belts holding Liu Qingge’s robes closed. When he attempted to help unfasten them, fingers trembling, Luo Binghe gently pushed his hands away. “I’ve got you, Shishu. Just let me take care of you.”

Luo Binghe somehow managed to get the belts open, the robes pushed aside, and the ties of Liu Qingge’s trousers undone fairly swiftly, only a mild shaking visible in his hands. Liu Qingge sucked in a breath when the cool night air hit his warm skin. Luo Binghe worked his trousers down his hips just enough to free his cock, sighing appreciatively as it sprang free, twitching and already beginning to leak. Binghe’s warm hand wrapped around the shaft, stroking with the perfect amount of pressure. Liu Qingge moaned, hips bucking. This was the first time someone else had touched him like this in many years; everything felt intense and new even though this was territory Liu Qingge had experience in, however long ago.

“You’re beautiful, Shishu,” Luo Binghe murmured, wrapping his free hand around Liu Qingge’s hip and pressing backward, exerting a faint amount of control over his movements. Then he leaned in and wrapped his lips around the swollen cockhead.

Liu Qingge’s knees shook so much he thought it a miracle he managed to stay upright as Luo Binghe worked him with his mouth and his hand, curling that sinful tongue and licking along throbbing veins, swirling around the head and pressing along his leaking slit. Liu Qingge bit his lip in an effort to hold back his moans, not daring to be too loud. His hips bucked against Luo Binghe’s hold; the other man’s fingers only gripped tighter in response and Liu Qingge wondered, hoped, he would have marks there afterward. The pleasure rose quickly, turning his breathing ragged, but it wasn’t until Luo Binghe took him deep into his mouth, the tip of his cock nudging into Binghe’s throat, at the same time that Binghe’s hand left his hip to cradle his balls and give them a gentle squeeze that Liu Qingge’s thighs trembled with the first hints of orgasm. His hands flew down to wrap into Luo Binghe’s curls and tug at them. Then Luo Binghe raised his gaze to look Liu Qingge in the eyes and deliberately swallowed around his cock, still rolling his balls carefully in his palm as they tightened. Liu Qingge came on the spot, hands pulling at Luo Binghe’s hair, hips pushing forward as he spilled down Luo Binghe’s throat helplessly, brows knitting and moaning probably more loudly than he’d intended.

Luo Binghe swallowed and slowly pulled his mouth off Liu Qingge’s cock, gently licking as he went. Liu Qingge sucked in a breath at the faint overstimulation, cock twitching as it began to soften. Binghe’s hands swept soothingly along Liu Qingge’s hipbones as if he were gentling a wild horse. Liu Qingge thought the analogy wouldn’t be too far off; he felt a bit wild just then, maybe a bit flighty too, as the reality of what had happened began to sink in. He pressed the back of his hand against his mouth, panting as his body trembled with the aftershocks of his orgasm. Luo Binghe hummed, pleased, and tucked Liu Qingge’s cock back into his trousers and tied them closed before fixing his robes and belts. Liu Qingge stood there and allowed it all, trying to pull his sluggish mind back together.

Finally, Luo Binghe got to his feet, pressing Liu Qingge back into the tree trunk. His hand came up to gently pull Liu Qingge’s own away from his lips so he could plant a kiss there. Liu Qingge sighed and melted into the liplock, letting his mouth open for Luo Binghe’s tongue, tasting his own release there. His arms slid around Luo Binghe’s neck, fingers toying with his curls again, not pulling or tugging but just sifting them between his digits. He could feel Binghe’s own arousal pressing into his belly and the knowledge that the other man had been affected was heady. It made him feel powerful, in a way, knowing Binghe’s words had proven true. He was wanted. When Luo Binghe pulled back, he pressed his forehead to Liu Qingge’s, smiling breathlessly.

“You taste good, Shishu,” he murmured, voice rough.

Liu Qingge still found it in himself to blush, despite what had just happened. He huffed tiredly but his lips still quirked in a faint smile. “What about you?” he asked pointedly. He could feel just how thick and long Binghe’s cock was and his stomach flip-flopped in a mix of intimidation and excitement at the possibility of seeing it and touching it, maybe even returning the favor of using his mouth, even as groggy as he found himself growing.

Luo Binghe pressed a tender kiss to Liu Qingge’s forehead. “This was about you. Don’t worry about me.”

“But--”

“No. You’re exhausted. There’ll be chances in the future for you to return the favor if you want.”

Liu Qingge’s brows pulled together mutinously for one long moment before smoothing out again, feeling too content and loose-limbed to argue further. “Okay,” he murmured.

Luo Binghe gave a little laugh, sounding delighted. “You’re adorable,” he said, brushing a thumb over Liu Qingge’s cheekbone. Liu Qingge made a small disgruntled noise but his eyes were already drooping. It seemed experiencing pleasure in someone else’s hands after so long had taken more out of him than he’d initially thought.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, slumping against the tree. “Didn’t think I’d be so wiped out.”

“It had to be intense for you,” Luo Binghe said, gathering Liu Qingge in his arms. “It’s fine, Shishu. You’ve earned some pleasure and relaxation.” There was a pause as if Binghe was thinking, then he asked softly, “Bed, then?”

“Mmm,” Liu Qingge said intelligently. Bed sounded amazing.

There was a fond chuckle and then Liu Qingge knew his feet were leaving the ground as he was swept into Luo Binghe’s arms and cradled against his chest. It wasn’t a completely foreign circumstance this time and it failed to rouse his ire or embarrassment. Instead, he sighed softly and burrowed in, trusting himself entirely to the man who had professed to love him.

Chapter 24

Notes:

Please enjoy this spicy little treat!! Qingge is learning he'll be safe and well-cared for with Bingqiu and also becoming gradually more comfortable with his own body and sexual urges. I hope this is a nice mix of tender and hot. I feel like my smut skills are still kinda rusty after not using them much for a few years prior to writing this fic. Bear with me!

I hope to see you all in the comments with reactions! Thanks for all your support, as always <3

Liu Qingge woke slowly. He had slept deeply, dreamlessly. The soft sounds of early morning reached his ears in gentle increments alongside the gradual lightening behind his eyelids as his mind surfaced from unconsciousness. When he blinked his eyes open a sliver, he saw it must be just before dawn; the guest room was still mostly dark.

Had he really slept so hard and for so long? Just from the orgasm Luo Binghe had given him? He'd been asleep before they even made it back to his room. How embarrassing. He felt a bit like he’d been cracked open and drained out, his limbs heavy and his whole body sated. He shifted a bit, stretching his legs and sighing. He felt content and stress-free for the first time in…he didn’t know how long. As he shuffled under the blankets, Liu Qingge suddenly realized he wasn’t alone in bed. A strong arm was draped across his hip and a solid chest met his back. His breath hitched in surprise and he pushed up onto an elbow to look over his shoulder.

Luo Binghe was fast asleep behind him, long inky black curls spilling across the pillow they had apparently been sharing. He was still wrapped in his red inner robe from the previous day but the neck gaped open enough to show off his broad chest anyway, all enticing smooth planes of muscle. Liu Qingge’s eyes caught on a dusky nipple and he glanced away quickly, flushing hotly and swallowing thickly. He reached for the lapels of his own white inner robe, pulling them closer together over his own chest in embarrassment.

A soft huff from Liu Qingge’s other side drew his attention. A half-asleep but softly smiling Shen Qingqiu greeted him and it took him a moment to realize just exactly where he was: in bed with both Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu, lying between them. He was surprised but also admittedly pleased even as his blush deepened.

Shen Qingqiu reached out to tuck a strand of Liu Qingge’s hair behind his ear, his touch gentle. When he spoke, his voice was a rough whisper. “Good morning, beautiful.”

“Good morning,” Liu Qingge replied shyly, unable to meet the other man’s eyes. His soft tone matched Shen Qingqiu’s, loathe to disturb the stillness just yet.

Shen Qingqiu hummed, his fingers catching Liu Qingge’s chin carefully. Liu Qingge let himself be drawn in willingly for a kiss. The press of their lips was warm and gentle, unhurried. Liu Qingge’s eyes drifted closed as he lost himself in the simple motion. When they parted, Shen Qingqiu spoke again.

“You’re shy with me in a way you aren’t with Binghe,” he said thoughtfully, a bit teasingly.

Liu Qingge huffed quietly and averted his eyes in an effort to spare himself some embarrassment. “I-I’ve loved you for so long,” he stammered, “that this still doesn’t quite feel real.” He had not held Luo Binghe in such high regard over the years and combining that with the raw physicality of their relationship seemed to have resulted in a much more carnal attraction.

“I think I understand,” Shen Qingqiu murmured. “You can relate to Binghe through your body since that’s always largely been the basis of your interactions. A physical element learned by constant battle.” He nodded smartly. “In contrast, you and I have cultivated a relationship of a much more sedate and gentle nature over the years. Tea and talk of monsters with the occasional adventure..” He chuckled. “Is that about right?”

Liu Qingge pursed his lips and nodded. “You always seemed above such mortal matters as pleasures of the flesh,” he admitted stiffly.

“Qingge, you really shouldn’t keep me up on such a pedestal.” Shen Qingqiu reached over to run a thumb along Liu Qingge’s lower lip, applying the barest hint of pressure. “I can promise I enjoy sex as much as most people do.”

Liu Qingge choked a bit, blushing a whole new layer of red. His cheeks felt as if they would melt straight off his face. When his lips parted for a gasp of air, Shen Qingqiu’s thumb pressed down with a bit more force. Without thinking, Liu Qingge let his tongue sweep out to wet his lips, and Shen Qingqiu’s thumb simultaneously. Shen Qingqiu let out a breath, eyes darkening. A moment later, Liu Qingge found himself being kissed again, this time much more ravenously.

Liu Qingge sighed into the kiss and let Shen Qingqiu lick into his mouth at the same time that the other man’s hands drew his body closer, out from under Luo Binghe’s arm. The warmth of the demon lord against his back was replaced by the other peak lord’s heat against his front. Liu Qingge’s hands groped for purchase in Shen Qingqiu’s inner robe as the kiss turned sloppy and their breathing quick and heavy. He needed the touch to anchor him, to remind him this was the real world.

When they parted, Shen Qingqiu smiled. “You taste good, Qingge.”

Liu Qingge looked away, flushing. “Shut up. I know I have morning breath.”

Shen Qingqiu laughed. He pressed a kiss to Liu Qingge’s forehead fondly. “Maybe so. But I don’t mind.” Their bare feet tangled together under the covers. “I know you slept hard because Binghe did his best to suck your soul out through your cock.” The note of satisfaction in his tone was impossible to miss as if he were proud of his husband’s efforts.

Liu Qingge groaned in mortification and buried his face in the crook of Shen Qingqiu’s neck. “I’m never so shameless,” he muttered.

Shen Qingqiu’s fingers combed through Liu Qingge’s loose hair. “You’ve earned the right to be shameless,” he declared. “Besides I know better than anyone how charming Binghe can be. He started flirting and before you knew it, he had his mouth on you, right?”

Liu Qingge made a helpless noise of agreement, thinking back on the previous night. “He told me he loves me,” he managed to get out, still feeling as surprised by the knowledge as he was the prior evening.

Shen Qingqiu hummed in pleased satisfaction. “He truly means it, I hope you know that.” He paused and then admitted, “Though I’m admittedly a little jealous he got to have you all to himself.” Shen Qingqiu’s arms tightened around Liu Qingge. “I would have greatly enjoyed the sight of him pleasuring you.” A hand stroked down Liu Qingge’s hip, the weight of his palm searing hot through Liu Qingge’s robe.

Shyly, Liu Qingge pressed a kiss to Shen Qingqiu’s collarbone. “You could take a turn right now,” he suggested in a whisper, breath fanning across the other man’s skin. He could hardly believe his own audacity but the thought of letting Shen Qingqiu touch him in the quiet of the morning was bringing a curl of heat to his belly. It seemed an opportune time to begin learning what his fellow peak lord was like when it came to physical pleasures.

“Mmm, if you’d like that?” Shen Qingqiu’s voice reflected his smile.

Liu Qingge nodded. “Yes.”

Shen Qingqiu didn’t reply, instead pulling Liu Qingge into another kiss, drawing a gasp from Liu Qingge as he nipped at his lower lip. Shen Qingqiu’s hands wandered, mapping the planes of Liu Qingge’s muscular back and lithe waist before squeezing his ass appreciatively. Liu Qingge grunted, letting his head tip back to give the other man better access to his jaw and neck. Shen Qingqiu kissed along Liu Qingge’s jaw and then sucked a mark into the tender skin of his neck just below his ear. Liu Qingge responded with a soft moan, his fingers tightening in Shen Qingqiu’s robe.

The sound seemed to awaken Shen Qingqiu’s hunger with a sudden intense urgency. Liu Qingge gasped in surprise as he found himself pressed swiftly onto his back, the hands gripping his ass securely turning his lower body. Liu Qingge’s legs fell open naturally so Shen Qingqiu could settle between them. Liu Qingge flushed at how instinctually his body seemed to respond, hungry for closeness and touch and pleasure after so long. Shen Qingqiu’s palms smoothed along Liu Qingge’s strong thighs, rucking his robe up as they went until his legs were bare, stopping just short of exposing his rapidly hardening cock. Liu Qingge wasn’t sure whether to be embarrassed or grateful that Luo Binghe had apparently stripped him of his trousers when bustling him into bed the previous night. He squirmed in anticipation as Shen Qingqiu’s thumbs dug into the sensitive skin where his legs met his hips, bucking upward with a gasp.

Shen Qingqiu gave a crooked grin. “Doesn’t take much to get you worked up,” he commented breathlessly. “Just a little petting and kissing has you needy already.”

Liu Qingge couldn’t even deny the words when his cock twitched and hardened further. He covered his face with his hands instead, letting out a soft sound of what could have been agreement or protest. “Qingqiu,” he whined. It was the first time he’d used the other man’s name sans Shen since before Luo Binghe had returned from the Abyss.

Soft lips pressed across his knuckles and along his fingers. “Please don’t hide your pretty face,” Shen Qingqiu murmured. “I won’t tease you if you don’t like it. But please let me see you.”

Liu Qingge slowly lowered his hands to see Shen Qingqiu looking at him with an expression so tender it made his heart twist. “I-I don’t mind some teasing,” Liu Qingge whispered, cheeks burning.

Shen Qingqiu smiled wolfishly, his green eyes twinkling mischievously. It was an expression that wouldn’t have been out of place on Luo Binghe. His fingers skimmed along Liu Qingge’s erection, over his robe, feeling out the stiff shaft and rubbing at the swollen head, where dampness was already forming. “Leaking already? Better move your robe before you make too much of a mess.” Shen Qingqiu clicked his tongue and reached for the ties of Liu Qingge’s robe. He paused and glanced up, seeking permission.

Liu Qingge readily gave it, nodding and biting his lip while the other man undid the ties and parted the garment, shoving it well out of the way and exposing his entire body. Shen Qingqiu made an appreciative noise, gaze taking in the muscles of Liu Qingge’s chest and stomach before dipping down to the apex of his thighs. Liu Qingge squirmed under the deliberate scrutiny, feeling a little shy, a little embarrassed, but also pleased when he noticed the way Shen Qingqiu licked his lips as he took in the view, eyes bright.

“You’re gorgeous, Qingge.” There was reverence in Shen Qingqiu’s tone.

A grunt of agreement from beside them startled them both. Luo Binghe was awake and very much invested in the goings-on, lying on his side facing them, head propped up on an elbow, his garnet eyes roving Liu Qingge’s body just as ravenously. Liu Qingge felt more heat creep into his face; surely he was flushed all the way down to his chest by now. He’d been so focused on Shen Qingqiu that he had forgotten it wasn’t just the two of them. Now Luo Binghe reached out with his free hand, obviously intent on touching, but Shen Qingqiu was faster. He slapped his husband’s hand away, scowling.

“Hands to yourself, beast,” he admonished. “You had your fun without me last night. You can watch but not touch.”

“Shizun,” Luo Binghe whined, eyes pleading.

“No.” Shen Qingqiu was unrelenting, his aristocratic voice hard like steel. “He’s mine.”

Liu Qingge’s breath caught, his heart racing. He chewed his lip as the arousal in his belly curled hotter and tighter. He’d never heard exactly that tone of voice from Qing Jing’s lord before but he liked it, right here, right now. Luo Binghe pouted but settled without further fuss. This surprised Liu Qingge. He’d expected more begging and coercing. But then again, he knew just how stubborn Shen Qingqiu could be. Somehow Luo Binghe recognized this was a fight he wouldn’t be winning.

Shen Qingqiu turned his attention back to Liu Qingge, his expression and manner immediately gentling, his hands stroking up Liu Qingge’s sides. “I’m sorry for the interruption, beautiful,” he murmured, leaning down to capture Liu Qingge’s mouth in a heated kiss once more. When the man’s lips left Liu Qingge’s, they moved along his jaw down to his neck and then to his collarbones. Soft scrapes of teeth there had Liu Qingge shuddering and gasping, his hands twisting into the back of Shen Qingqiu’s robe. His eyes slid shut as he lost himself in the sensations. He let out a surprised cry when his nipple was sucked between Shen Qingqiu’s lips and worried between his teeth. Shen Qingqiu’s hand teased the other nipple, pinching and rolling it between his fingers, giving a sharp tug when he bit down on the other one. Liu Qingge couldn’t help the way his back arched, pushing his chest up into the other man’s touch, a loud moan falling from his mouth. Shen Qingqiu’s hand replaced his mouth as he leaned back to look Liu Qingge in the face assessingly.

“Sensitive,” he commented, kneading and squeezing at Liu Qingge’s pectorals. “You like having your tits played with, don’t you?” Liu Qingge moaned again, nodding, at the same time that Luo Binghe let out a stifled groan from nearby. Shen Qingqiu spared his husband a glance, lips curling in a little smile. He jerked his chin in Binghe’s direction. “Look, Qingge, Binghe wants so badly to touch you.”

Liu Qingge rolled his head to the side to see Luo Binghe with his hands trapped between his knees as if there was no other way for him to physically restrain himself. His cheeks were flushed and his curls wild. Between his elbows, the bulge of his cock peeked out, wetting his robe with his arousal. Liu Qingge stared. He wasn’t sure if Binghe’s state was entirely due to him but it gave him a flush of power nonetheless. Suddenly he wanted to put on a show for Luo Binghe, drive him even wilder, stoke his hunger even more. When he looked back at Shen Qingqiu, such a sentiment must have been easy to read on his face because the man above him grinned and swooped in to kiss him again, all tongues and teeth. When they parted, Liu Qingge motioned in the direction of the bedside table.

“There’s oil there,” he murmured, knowing the bottle of sword oil was where he’d left it after he’d used it on himself several nights ago.

Shen Qingqiu reached for it but hesitated once he had it in hand. “What are you comfortable with, Qingge?”

The question caused Liu Qingge to pause. He honestly hadn’t thought this far ahead. He hadn’t imagined he’d be doing this right now. The thought of taking Shen Qingqiu’s cock was appealing but also a little frightening; the sudden unpleasant swoop of fear in his gut confirmed he shouldn’t get too far ahead of himself. There was no reason to rush. He might be willing to push himself in other areas of life but this was one he knew he shouldn’t. Drawing a deep breath, he replied quietly, “I want your fingers, please.” He could handle that, he felt sure.

Shen Qingqiu gave a small smile and nodded. “Alright. Please tell me if you need me to stop or do anything different.” Liu Qingge nodded in agreement as Shen Qingqiu uncorked the bottle and poured out some oil onto his long scholarly fingers. The sight was enough to bring Liu Qingge’s arousal back in full force as he imagined those fingers inside him. He squirmed in anticipation, eagerly parting his legs further.

“Impatient,” Shen Qingqiu said with a chuckle, tossing the bottle aside. Liu Qingge huffed indignantly but without any real heat. Shen Qingqiu’s clean hand gripped his hip and pulled him closer, up onto the man’s lap where he leaned back against his heels. With his pelvis tilted up like this, Liu Qingge knew those long fingers would be able to reach even deeper and he wiggled a bit, settling in. Shen Qingqiu’s hand gripped one side of his ass, carefully parting him; Liu Qingge gasped at the first touch of two slick fingers along the cleft of his ass, rubbing gently and spreading the oil, letting him adjust to the feeling of someone else touching him so intimately.

Liu Qingge let his eyes slide shut and his body relax, secretly grateful for the care Shen Qingqiu was showing him. He knew that he could have been easily overwhelmed by all of this otherwise. He tried to shut his conscious brain off and focus solely on the pleasurable tingles spreading along his spine. After several long moments, during which Shen Qingqiu’s fingers never stopped steadily moving, he murmured, “More, please.” Shen Qingqiu hummed in acknowledgment.

Liu Qingge breathed deeply through the breach of the first finger pressing inside him. The stretch wasn’t unpleasant by any means; it was moreso the idea that another person was touching him which made it feel so intense. Shen Qingqiu’s clean hand released its grip on his ass in favor of stroking Liu Qingge’s flank soothingly, much like Luo Binghe had done the previous night.

“Okay, Qingge?” Shen Qingqiu’s voice was low and rough but laced with concern.

Liu Qingge bit his lip and nodded, letting out a sigh through his nose. A moment later, Shen Qingqiu began a rhythm with his finger, steady and smooth. After a few more moments, Liu Qingge decided it felt nice. Soon, his hips were moving with the motions and his lips had parted on soft sounds of enjoyment.

“I’m going to give you another finger,” Shen Qingqiu murmured in warning. When Liu Qingge made no noise of dissent, he pressed a second digit in alongside the first, so smoothly that Liu Qingge barely noticed any interruption in the rhythm. The greater stretch had his toes curling and his fingers tightening in the sheets at his sides. His mouth fell open on a pleased gasp.

Shen Qingqiu’s long fingers were everything Liu Qingge had hoped they would be, reaching deeper than his own could. Those fingers had little trouble finding that place inside him that sent electric zaps of pleasure through his whole body and had his hole clamping down involuntarily. Liu Qingge moaned loudly, caught off guard by the sensations. His hips bucked and his cock jerked, smearing shiny pre-come all over his belly. The other two men answered him with groans of their own.

“Ah, that’s the spot, isn’t it?” Shen Qingqiu said roughly, driving his fingers in a little harder and faster. Liu Qingge let out a soft whine, nodding. “Do you think you could come just from this, Qingge?” Shen Qingqiu continued, rubbing Liu Qingge’s prostate in tight circles. “Just from my fingers inside you? Your cock looks painful so I'd understand if you'd rather touch yourself.” Liu Qingge realized his cock was achingly hard now that his attention had been drawn to it. He couldn't deny that part of him wanted to touch, to take himself in hand and stroke in time with Shen Qingqiu's movements. But a greater part of him wanted to see if he could come untouched. He rolled his head in denial across the pillow.

"Wanna come on your fingers," he gasped out.

Shen Qingqiu dropped a kiss on his knee. "Okay. Tell me if it's too much." Then he set to work, stroking and rubbing that spot relentlessly at the same time giving Liu Qingge's hips a rhythm to follow. Liu Qingge moaned shamelessly, chasing his pleasure as sweat beaded along his hairline and his chest heaved with his panting. It hadn't felt like this when he'd fingered himself; this was much more intense and ultimately felt better. He remembered the frustration of not being able to reach his prostate the way he'd wanted to, and having to resort to stroking his cock to find his completion. This time he wouldn't have to worry about it, in Shen Qingqiu's care.

"Mmm, Qingge, Binghe is so overcome by you he couldn't resist touching himself." The words caught Liu Qingge's attention and a moment later he could hear the unmistakable slick sound of a hand along a cock. "Look at him," Shen Qingqiu murmured. Liu Qingge opened his eyes and rolled his head over to see Luo Binghe had opened his robe, flipping it back over his hip, revealing his thick cock and rippling abdomen. He whined and bit his lip as he fucked his fist, his fingers barely reaching all the way around the shaft. Liu Qingge stared, watching the pre-come oozing steadily from the tip. After a moment, he realized that Luo Binghe's hand was moving in time with Shen Qingqiu's as he fucked Liu Qingge with his fingers. Liu Qingge gasped, tightening around the intrusion inside him. He hadn't expected Luo Binghe to be so turned on by the circumstances. Again it gave him a rush of heady power just as Shen Qingqiu jabbed at his prostate harder than before.

Liu Qingge's eyes widened and he gave a surprised cry, clenching tightly as his hips bucked. His cock jerked and spilled, pulses of pearly white shooting across his stomach and chest. He twitched as a hot line of come landed across his sensitive nipple. Dimly, Liu Qingge was aware of Luo Binghe's strained grunt as he too came moments later, their gazes locked on each other.

"Binghe, you've made such a mess," Shen Qingqiu scolded with a cocked eyebrow, staring at the veritable puddle of come on the sheets.

"Sorry, Shizun." Luo Binghe's hips were still moving, slowly fucking his softening cock through the circle of his loosened fingers, milking himself for every drop possible and adding it to the mess. He certainly didn't sound very sorry.

Shen Qingqiu huffed. "Come over here and clean up Qingge and then you may suck this master off." Shen Qingqiu leaned down to kiss Liu Qingge gently as he pulled his fingers out carefully. Liu Qingge’s soft hiss of overstimulation was lost in the other man’s mouth. “You did so well,” Shen Qingqiu murmured when he pulled back. He smiled, pressing another kiss to the tip of Liu Qingge’s nose. “You were beautiful, lost in your pleasure.”

Liu Qingge blushed, still trying to catch his breath. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Shen Qingqiu shook his head as he began to sit back. “You don’t have to thank me. I enjoyed making you feel good.”

“What a treat to wake up to, even if Shizun said I couldn’t touch.” Luo Binghe smoothly slid into the space between Liu Qingge’s thighs as Shen Qingqiu left the bed. He grinned, dragging a finger through a string of come across Liu Qingge’s belly and promptly putting his finger in his mouth, shamelessly sucking the fluid off. Liu Qingge huffed, scandalized, but was unable to look away. The sight reminded him of the previous night, Luo Binghe’s supple and full lips wrapped around Liu Qingge’s cock. Luo Binghe hummed around his digit, apparently pleased at the taste, which only made Liu Qingge flush hotter. When Luo Binghe pulled his hand away from his mouth, he patted Liu Qingge’s knee gently, reassuringly. “Is it alright if I clean you up, Shishu?”

“U-um, I guess so,” Liu Qingge stammered, cringing at how uncertain he sounded.

“If you want me to stop, just say so at any time.” Luo Binghe smiled, his gaze gentle, and leaned in, starting with a kiss that stole Liu Qingge’s breath. Then the demon lord moved on, running his tongue across Liu Qingge’s chest, lapping up all the strings of come and leaving behind hot wet trails that tingled in the cool air. Liu Qingge gasped when that tongue swept across his nipples teasingly before darting away; he almost wanted to ask Luo Binghe to return to the hard nubs and suck on them. Luo Binghe’s mouth moved down to Liu Qingge’s flexing abdominals, licking swiftly. A light graze of teeth near his navel made Liu Qingge shiver and squirm. Next was his cock, lying softened against his belly. Luo Binghe’s ministrations turned less teasing and more businesslike and perfunctory, which Liu Qingge was glad for. He was sensitive enough that the sensations could easily have become uncomfortable. Still, he covered his mouth with the back of his hand to muffle the little gasps and sighs that slipped out with the swipes of Luo Binghe’s tongue.

Shen Qingqiu returned to the bed with a wet cloth just as Luo Binghe gave the head of Liu Qingge’s cock one last gentle lick and sat back. The other peak lord nudged his husband out of the way with his shoulder. Liu Qingge got his first good look at Shen Qingqiu since they had started all of this, his eyes snagging on the man’s obvious arousal beneath his robe. He marveled a bit at Shen Qingqiu’s self-control. He had ignored his own cock the entire time he’d pleasured Liu Qingge and now was taking the time to clean him up and see to his comfort rather than immediately seek his own pleasure. Liu Qingge again felt gratitude. The whole experience had been a positive one. He thought that perhaps several more similar experiences would have him prepared to ask for the cure. Maybe.

Liu Qingge lay quietly and pliantly as Shen Qingqiu wiped him down carefully, even running the cloth between his legs to clean away the oil. It didn’t feel too strange after just having the man’s fingers down there. Then Shen Qingqiu smoothed Liu Qingge’s bangs back from his forehead tenderly. “Are you doing alright?”

Liu Qingge nodded, stifling a yawn. “Yes. Though I think I need a nap now.”

Luo Binghe huffed a soft laugh from nearby as Shen Qingqiu smiled. “Feel free to do so.”

Liu Qingge waved a hand lazily in the direction of Shen Qingqiu’s erection. “Don’t let me keep you from taking care of yourself.”

“You were my first priority,” Shen Qingqiu murmured, cupping Liu Qingge’s cheeks and giving him a kiss. Liu Qingge sighed into it, still not quite able to believe that not only had Shen Qingqiu kissed him multiple times, but he’d also touched and caressed his body and brought him to the heights of pleasure. It seemed too good to be true, a pleasant dream Liu Qingge would wake up from at any moment.

He pulled his robe closed and rolled over, settling in to watch Luo Binghe use that skillfully sinful mouth on his husband, comfortable and content. When he drifted off, his lips were curled in a little smile.

Chapter 25

Notes:

I have returned! Apologies for the delay with this update; work has been absolutely crazy and I've been super stressed about it. Two to three more weeks of the craziness and then it should calm down, so I won't make any promises about more updates during the next few weeks. I'll try to get something up but please continue to be patient with me if I don't!

Qingge gets to finally say some things and ask some questions he's long wanted to in this chapter, and gets to hear some things he desperately needed to hear. We're beginning to move into the final act of the story now so this chapter also has a bit of fluff, bonding, and non-sexual intimacy in it as a treat. I hope it's enjoyable, and as always, please let me know in the comments what you think!

Thank you for being here!

The nap lasted no more than half a sichen before Liu Qingge was waking up for a second time that morning, wedged in between Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu. The waking was even lazier and more unhurried than the first time if that were possible. All three of them stirred gradually, stretching luxuriously and sharing slow indulgent kisses. Liu Qingge found himself practically purring in contentment when Shen Qingqiu laid his head on his chest and an arm over his waist, tangling their bare feet together. The man’s loose hair slipped across Liu Qingge’s skin like ebony silk; he couldn’t resist pushing his nose into the strands and inhaling the sweet scent of Shen Qingqiu’s hair oil. It was a familiar smell but he’d not often had the chance to experience it so closely. At his other side, Luo Binghe lay facing them, watching with a small smile on his face, fingertips idly playing with the ends of Liu Qingge’s hair where it spilled across the pillow.

It was still strange to think Liu Qingge was allowed to do this, to lay here with them and touch and kiss and share this intimate atmosphere, but he thought he could probably quickly grow used to it. This was the most content and at peace he’d felt in a long time, and the quiet was comfortable.

An unknown amount of time later, Shen Qingqiu finally stirred, pushing up from his reclining position to solicit another kiss from each of his companions and then slipping from the bed to head for the bathing area, his loose robe billowing. Luo Binghe sighed appreciatively at the sight his husband made. Liu Qingge huffed a soft chuckle but said nothing as he sat up, tugging at his own robe. He couldn’t fault the demon for loving Shen Qingqiu’s everything when he was just as guilty.

Liu Qingge was reminded he needed to take his dosage of medications when he spied all the bottles on the bedside table. As he reached for the first one and uncorked it to measure out the proper amount, he could hear Luo Binghe shuffling closer across the bed. As he stoppered the bottle and put it back, the other man settled in behind him, strong arms slipping around Liu Qingge’s waist, broad chest pressing up against his back, and chin hooking over his shoulder. It was still somewhat disconcerting to have such free physical contact with Luo Binghe that wasn’t violent but Liu Qingge found he didn’t hate it. In fact, he rather liked it. There was something both steadying and exciting about being able to indulge in casually touching Luo Binghe.

“Are those all your curse remedies?” Luo Binghe asked, his voice a quiet rumble, still rough with sleep.

“Mm.” Liu Qingge reached for the next bottle. As he pulled out the cork, he paused. “I don’t remember if I took them last night.”

“You didn’t,” Luo Binghe informed him. “You were impossible to rouse.” He sounded a bit smug about it, bringing a light flush to Liu Qingge’s cheeks as he remembered just why he’d been so impossible to rouse.

He sighed as he measured out the proper amount of liquid from the bottle. “Damn. That’s two missed doses. Mu Qingfang will have my hide if he finds out.” He’d already been reprimanded for the last missed dose and had been told unequivocally not to forget any more.

Luo Binghe’s arms tightened around Liu Qingge. “Shishu, it’s not good that you aren’t taking your medicine regularly,” he murmured, voice suddenly serious.

“I imagine I’m a little bit closer to dying every time I neglect a dose,” Liu Qingge deadpanned in agreement.

Luo Binghe’s breath caught at the same time that a startled splash came from the bathtub behind the dividing screen. Binghe whined softly, burying his face in Liu Qingge’s hair. “Shishu,” he whispered. “Please take care of yourself. If you can’t allow me to give you the cure just yet, please take this seriously in the meantime.” His voice was muffled but earnest, his arms squeezing as if he were afraid Liu Qingge would vanish into thin air if he let go.

Before Liu Qingge could respond, the padding of forceful footsteps rang out across the floorboards as Shen Qingqiu stormed over from the bathing area, his wet feet leaving prints across the wood. He was wrapped in his robe, the collar askew and one pale shoulder slipping out. “Liu Qingge!” he exclaimed, green eyes flashing indignantly. “You are not allowed to be so flippant with your well-being!” He waved an imperious hand at the bottles lined up on the side table. “I will personally pour this shit down your throat if I have to,” he threatened, though there was an unmistakable waver in his tone that belied how upset he was.

Liu Qingge blinked up at Shen Qingqiu, startled. “I didn’t mean not to take it,” he said slowly. “I just forgot.”

This did not mollify Shen Qingqiu; he shook his head forcefully before Liu Qingge was even done speaking. A sheen of tears made his eyes even more vivid than usual. “Please be more mindful, Qingge,” he insisted in a quieter but no less firm tone. “Please. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.”

Liu Qingge felt a stab of surprise. Logically, he knew Shen Qingqiu cared for him; they had been close friends for many years now, after all. And yet, Luo Binghe had been the first among them to confess to deeper feelings.

“I have no intention of dying,” Liu Qingge declared, holding Shen Qingqiu’s gaze. As he spoke, he realized just how true the words were. Somewhere deep in his mind and heart, he’d already subconsciously decided that being cured was a foregone conclusion. It would happen, it was simply a matter of when. The thought didn’t alarm him as much as he’d imagined it might have even a few days previously. Luo Binghe’s ever more obvious care for him, combined with his loving words of the night before, had settled something in Liu Qingge’s soul that had been unsure and frightened.

Shen Qingqiu remained still for another moment before sagging a bit in relief, the tension leaving his shoulders all at once. A sheepish expression crossed his elegant features. “I’m sorry,” he said contritely, not meeting Liu Qingge’s gaze, seemingly embarrassed. “I overreacted a bit.”

Liu Qingge let a small smile curl his lips as he resumed his task of measuring out his medicines. “It’s all right,” he said. “It’s nice to know you care for me enough to throw your dignity aside and come tromping out here from your bath just to scold me.”

Shen Qingqiu made a small noise that Liu Qingge could only classify as concerned. The next thing he knew, the man was on his knees before him, graceful long-fingered hands reaching out to still his own. Liu Qingge looked up in surprise. His fellow peak lord wore an expression of sorrowful realization.

“Qingge…” The tone of Shen Qingqiu’s voice was shaky, quivering. He hesitated, even though he seemed to want to continue.

“What is it?” Liu Qingge asked softly, studying the other man’s face.

“I love you.” The words were spoken quietly yet forcefully, their undertones full of unshakeable conviction. “I realized I haven’t said it straight to you before now and for that, I apologize. You deserve to know and to hear it.”

Liu Qingge gaped, his mouth falling open helplessly. Actually hearing those words made his heart pound relentlessly and his cheeks heat. His fingers tightened around the glass bottle he was still clutching. If he’d had access to his cultivation, the bottle would have been no match for his strength, as he surely would have crushed it, startled. He had been waiting to hear those words from Shen Qingqiu for such a long time that they barely registered now. “W-what?” he stammered, brows reaching for his hairline.

Shen Qingqiu’s own brows furrowed. “You told me just this morning that you’ve loved me for a long time. I think I always knew on some level that you did, even if you didn’t say it these many years, even if I didn’t want to admit it to myself. And I think I knew deep down that I returned your love, as well, even though by that point admitting it would mean I’d hurt you over and over again.” He squeezed Liu Qingge’s hands, leaning in as he drew them up to press kisses along Liu Qingge’s knuckles in much the same fashion he had earlier that morning. Liu Qingge flushed, his breath catching in his throat. “It was easier to feign obliviousness. I was a coward. I’m sorry, Qingge. Sorry for hurting you, sorry for not telling you sooner how I feel. So very sorry for letting you believe you weren’t loved.”

Liu Qingge stared, unable to formulate a response. His heart ached in a way it hadn’t since he’d heard the news of Shen Qingqiu’s marriage. He had never allowed himself to realistically consider if Shen Qingqiu might feel something more for him than the bonds of deep friendship; there had never been any obvious indication such was the case. He had married another man, after all. Even after Shen Qingqiu had confessed to wanting to court him alongside his husband, Liu Qingge hadn’t imagined the man might already love him. He had merely hoped such feelings would someday grow and be reciprocated between them. The fact that such a thing was a reality already should have brought him joy but it just made his heart ache instead, raw and vulnerable, as he thought of all the wasted years and unspoken words between them. Tears stung his eyes and he sniffled.

“I don’t know what to say,” he murmured, working a hand loose to swipe at his eyes as the first tears spilled over. Behind him, Luo Binghe’s lips pressed softly against his shoulder, his arms squeezing in silent support. The tender gesture just made Liu Qingge’s tears come faster until he was struggling to not completely break down, trembling in the demon lord’s hold.

Shen Qingqiu’s hands came up to cup Liu Qingge’s face, his thumbs gently wiping at the streaming tears on his cheeks. The other peak lord was misty-eyed too, his own face glistening with wet tear tracks, his loose hair a damp mess around his cheeks. Through it all, he was still as beautiful as ever. “You don’t have to say anything,” he murmured. “Just know that when I say you are wanted here with us, that I want you here, I truly mean it.” He leaned forward to press gentle lips to Liu Qingge’s forehead. It felt like a blessing, a benediction. Liu Qingge squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a shaky breath.

The three of them stayed like that in silence for several long moments before Liu Qingge reached up to take Shen Qingqiu’s hands in his own, tracing his thumbs over the knobs of the other man’s knuckles mindlessly. His tears had slowed but they still welled at the edges of his vision. “I mourned you every day for those five years you were gone,” he whispered, voice shaking and fingers tightening reflexively around Shen Qingqiu’s. “I was heartbroken. And then you came back and…” He trailed off, unsure if he ought to voice the rest of the sentence. He didn’t want to hurt Luo Binghe.

“What else?” Shen Qingqiu asked quietly, his expression still pained but open, willing to listen.

Liu Qingge swallowed audibly. A few moments passed before he continued. “You came back and broke my heart again when you got married.” His voice was less than a whisper, more a breath on the air. “It was after that I began to distance myself. I felt guilty about the way I failed you in those five years but it also simply hurt too much to be around you, knowing you would never love me the way I loved you.” Shen Qingqiu sniffled. Luo Binghe pressed his forehead against the back of Liu Qingge’s shoulder, a soft wounded noise escaping him. “I’m sorry, Binghe,” Liu Qingge murmured, releasing one of Shen Qingqiu’s hands to instead squeeze the demon lord’s forearm where it was still wrapped securely around him. “I don’t mean to hurt you with this.”

Luo Binghe shook his head without lifting it, rolling his forehead across Liu Qingge’s shoulder. “Don’t apologize, Shishu,” he said softly. “It’s your truth. You should be able to speak it.”

Liu Qingge blinked as the words settled in. It was his truth and he did deserve to speak it. He had gone long enough keeping his silence. “Thank you,” he murmured.

“When we talked on the way here, I meant it when I said you didn’t fail me, Qingge.” Shen Qingqiu’s voice was quiet, holding notes of regret and sorrow. “I’ll say it again. You didn’t fail me during those five years. You continually gave and gave of yourself when you didn’t have to because you loved me. Because that’s who you are, willing to sacrifice for the ones you love. It’s one of the greatest gifts you give to others.” He paused, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

“Can I ask you something?” Liu Qingge ventured after a moment.

“Of course, anything.” Shen Qingqiu’s eyes shone with earnestness.

Liu Qingge hesitated, gathering his courage. He didn’t really want to ask this question but at the same time, he knew he needed to, for his own peace of mind. He would always wonder if he didn’t. “Why did you choose to marry Binghe if you knew how you felt about me? If you knew I loved you?” He had to stop to take a breath and steady himself. When he continued, his voice was small, halting. “Why wasn’t I enough?”

“What can I say about this?” Shen Qingqiu shook his head, looking helpless. “It wasn’t because you weren’t enough, Qingge, I can promise that. You had never given any indication that marriage was something you wanted so I guess such a thing never crossed my mind. Truthfully, it had never crossed my mind at all, with anyone, until Binghe asked me. I was so startled that I agreed almost out of shock.” He winced as Luo Binghe made a disgruntled noise from behind Liu Qingge’s shoulder. “Sorry, Binghe.”

Binghe huffed. “It’s alright, Shizun. It was surprising for me too when the words just fell out of my mouth.”

Liu Qingge couldn’t help the little surprised laugh that bubbled out of him. Rather than make him feel lesser or undeserving, the little exchange had his heart swelling with fondness for these two men who had so irrevocably become interwoven in the very fabric of his life, changing it forever. Shen Qingqiu’s answer had hurt less than expected; he could admit that he had never spoken of marriage with Shen Qingqiu before the banquet several days past and every aspect of his lifestyle seemed to show he valued his freedom and unattached status above all else. He couldn’t blame the man for not being a mind reader or not correctly divining the secrets of his heart, especially when he struggled to acknowledge them himself.

Liu Qingge’s bit of mirth brought a small smile to Shen Qingqiu’s face. He leaned in to kiss Liu Qingge, his lips gentle but fervent. Liu Qingge responded in kind, eager for the reassurance of his place in this man’s heart and in his life. When they parted, Shen Qingqiu asked, “Are your concerns alleviated, baobei?”

Liu Qingge flushed hotly at the endearment but he nodded shyly. “I think so.” At least for the time being.

“Well, if you think of anything else you want to ask, please do so.” Shen Qingqiu caught Liu Qingge’s hand again, turning it over and brushing his lips over the smooth skin near his inner wrist. “I want you to feel comfortable talking to us and bringing up any concerns you may have. And I wish to spend every day from now on making up for all the pain I’ve caused you.”

Liu Qingge found it in him to let one corner of his mouth quirk upwards ever so slightly. “I’ll gladly let you. Even after how broken my heart has been, I still can’t help but love you with all of its shards.”

“I’ll do my best to help you put it back together again,” Shen Qingqiu promised solemnly. “I love you, Qingge.”

Once again, those words brought a flush to Liu Qingge’s cheeks and a boost to his heart rate. “I love you too,” he murmured as Shen Qingqiu pressed kisses to his open palm, lingering over the callouses left behind from wielding Cheng Luan for so many years. It felt incredibly intimate, like Shen Qingqiu was kissing the very essence of who he was, accepting him just as he was. He shuddered, feeling simultaneously vulnerable and pleasantly overwhelmed.

“You should finish taking your medicine,” Shen Qingqiu said then, sitting back and releasing Liu Qingge’s hand. He smiled a little self-deprecating smile. “I came out here to scold you for not doing that and then I went and distracted you from it,” he said wryly.

Liu Qingge huffed but felt his lips curving upwards anyway. “But you remembered to remind me, so no harm done.”

Shen Qingqiu stayed long enough to make sure Liu Qingge did indeed take his medicine before returning to his bath, obviously feeling more at ease if the saucy way he dropped his robe on the floor as he went was any indication. Liu Qingge watched that expanse of smooth pale back and long legs disappear behind the screen with no small measure of awe before standing and stripping off his own robe in preparation for dressing for the day. Yesterday’s inner robe was rumpled beyond saving after having been slept in followed by the morning’s bedroom activities. Luo Binghe only let him go reluctantly but he made no secret of appreciating the view of Liu Qingge in all his naked glory, eyes roving.

When Liu Qingge shook out a fresh inner robe and went to slip his arms into it, he found a now familiar pair of hands assisting him. Luo Binghe had left the bed, sliding up behind Liu Qingge, his presence steady and solid. He pulled the robe up and over Liu Qingge’s shoulders, adjusting the collar until it lay flat. Then he swept Liu Qingge’s long mass of loose hair out from under the fabric, freeing it. Luo Binghe’s fingers were warm and nimble against Liu Qingge’s skin and he couldn’t help but shiver.

“Let me help you, Shishu,” Luo Binghe murmured, pushing Liu Qingge’s hair aside just enough to press a line of kisses along his neck. Liu Qingge nodded helplessly, his breath catching a moment later when Luo Binghe’s teeth caught his ear lobe and tugged gently before letting go and resuming the task of dressing Bai Zhan’s War God for the day ahead.

They didn’t speak but the silence was comfortable, filled with the whisper of silk as Luo Binghe deftly secured layer after layer of Liu Qingge’s robes, accented by the soft sighs and gasps that fell from Liu Qingge’s mouth at such intimate treatment. Luo Binghe’s hands were gentle but firm, gliding over the planes of Liu Qingge’s muscles as he smoothed the fabric into place, brushing tantalizingly on bits of bare skin like a whispered promise that brought a tingle to the base of Liu Qingge’s spine and a soft glow of heat to his belly. By the time Luo Binghe was fastening his ornate belt around his waist, Liu Qingge was breathless and his loins had stirred, his cock beginning to fatten up in interest. Yet he didn’t feel the need to push things further; the tender atmosphere wasn’t necessarily sexual, he thought, but was rather sensual instead. Liu Qingge was beginning to recognize that there was a fine line between the two.

Luo Binghe made one last adjustment to the belt and then smiled, the corners of his garnet eyes crinkling in a way that made Liu Qingge’s heart skip a beat. “There,” he murmured. “All done. You look stunning, as always.”

Liu Qingge flushed, his lips quirking entirely without his permission as he returned Luo Binghe’s smile. “Thank you.”

“Mm.” Luo Binghe stepped back, surveying Liu Qingge from head to toe. His own sleeping robe was hanging open casually, exposing his broad chest, defined stomach, and strong thighs. Liu Qingge’s eyes snagged on Luo Binghe’s plump cock, gratified to see he wasn’t the only one affected by the recent intimacy. “Now for your hair,” Binghe continued, reaching for the hair crown and the wooden comb sitting on the side table nearby.

Liu Qingge allowed himself to be maneuvered to the nearby stool. He sat quietly, enjoying the methodical strokes of the comb through his tresses, a simple pleasure that had the tension in his shoulders melting away and the heat in his gut simmering down entirely. Luo Binghe took his time, working out the tangles first and then just brushing over and over until Liu Qingge was sure his hair must be smooth and shiny like silk. By the time the comb was set aside, Liu Qingge was so relaxed he was ready to fall asleep again.

Luo Binghe carefully gathered Liu Qingge’s hair up into his typical ponytail, fastening the hair crown gently but securely in place. “Your hair is so soft,” he murmured, running his fingers through the loose ends before leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to Liu Qingge’s cheek.

Liu Qingge turned, seeking out Luo Binghe’s lips. The liplock was lazy and full of slow exploration, their tongues twining and sliding in a way that in itself was enjoyable. When they finally parted, Liu Qingge caught sight of Shen Qingqiu standing next to the room divider, fresh from his bath, watching them with a smile. He was wrapped in his robe once again, pressing water from his long locks with a towel.

“What a lovely sight you two make,” Shen Qingqiu said, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Since I missed out last night, perhaps later I could be treated to a show?”

Liu Qingge blushed at the implications of the words but found himself feeling eager enough to continue exploring and learning what he liked with these two men to guide him along the way. He felt secure in the knowledge that he was welcome, wanted, and even loved. That made all the difference when it came to making him feel comfortable. He had said he wanted dual cultivation to mean something, after all.

Luo Binghe chuckled. “I think we can come up with something to keep Shizun entertained.”

“Just watching you find pleasure in each other is enough for me,” Shen Qingqiu murmured, his gaze incredibly fond. “But we can talk about that later.” His eyes settled on Liu Qingge. “What did you have planned for today, Shidi?”

“Well.” Liu Qingge had to pause to clear his throat before continuing. “Tonight is the traditional outing to the Golden Grove. We’ll have supper there.”

“The Golden Grove?” Luo Binghe asked curiously. “What’s that?”

“It’s a grove of golden willows not too far from the estate,” Liu Qingge explained. “The clan has always believed it’s a sacred place and we go there during every annual festival to dine with the spirits of our ancestors. Once darkness falls, the trees glow and we take that as a sign of the ancestors communing with us.”

“It sounds lovely,” Shen Qingqiu said earnestly. “I’ve never seen a golden willow, let alone one that lights up in the dark.”

A smile played around Liu Qingge’s lips. “The servants will spend all day preparing the grove for tonight’s banquet. No doubt they’re already hard at it. It’s always the event that causes them the most work but it’s the highlight of the festival for most of the clan.”

“I see.” Shen Qingqiu looked thoughtful, as if he were trying to imagine the sight already.

“But before that, I need to track down Mu Qingfang,” Liu Qingge said, standing and straightening his robes.

Luo Binghe’s brows drew together. “Is everything alright, Shishu?”

“Yes, I just want to ask him a few things,” Liu Qingge hurried to reassure his lover. Luo Binghe was his lover. Now there was a startling thought. “No need to worry.”

“Will we see you at lunch, then?” Shen Qingqiu asked, making his way over for a kiss, which Liu Qingge returned gladly.

“Yes, I’ll see you both then,” he promised. He headed for the front room and the door to the outer world, thinking nothing of leaving them in his room. His mind was already turning toward the things he felt compelled to do today: conversations with Mu Qingfang and his taciturn disciple. He felt sure he wouldn’t be able to fully enjoy the evening’s festivities if he didn’t make an effort to sort things out with Yang Yixuan first.

“Qingge!” Shen Qingqiu called out, making Liu Qingge pause midstep and glance back over his shoulder questioningly. “I love you.”

Liu Qingge blinked, then smiled. “Love you too.”

Chapter 26

Notes:

Greetings! I'm back with an update! It's been a while. This is the longest I've made ya'll wait for a new chapter and for that I'm truly regretful. Work was absolutely insane for an entire month plus and I had little to no brainpower left over for writing. BUT! I managed to get this chapter finished during the last week and a half or so. I hope it's enjoyable. It's even a bit longer to make up for the wait.

Please let me know what you think down in the comments and so many thanks to everyone for being here! <3

Breakfast at Willow Manor was usually a fairly casual affair, but that morning was even more relaxed than normal. When Liu Qingge arrived at the main hall, he found a spread of food across the long central table and several of his relatives helping themselves to servings as they worked their way around the table. He held the door for his aunt, who offered him a wide smile and kiss on the cheek, as she slipped out with a tray loaded with steaming dishes. His uncle was nowhere to be seen. Apparently, it was a breakfast-in-bed type of day.

Chen Mingzhu looked up from where she was scooping rice into her bowl as he approached. “Good morning, Qingge,” she greeted, her warm brown eyes crinkling as she smiled.

“Morning, Mama.” Liu Qingge leaned in to kiss her cheek before he reached for a tray and dishes.

“You look well this morning,” Mingzhu commented, a teasing lilt to her tone.

Liu Qingge huffed, his bangs fluttering. “I’m doing well,” he replied somewhat stiffly, trying to hide his flush and the embarrassment in his words.

Chen Mingzhu chuckled and nudged his arm gently. “No need to be embarrassed,” she said, her lips still curved knowingly. “I’m just happy for you, is all.” Liu Qingge knew she meant it; her eyes were sincere and her voice full of satisfaction and happiness on his behalf. His mother would never mean anything malicious with her teasing, after all.

“Thanks, Mama,” Liu Qingge murmured, reaching for some pickled vegetables. “Have you seen Mu Qingfang yet this morning?”

His mother hummed, nodding. “I did. He was here not too long ago. He mentioned something about the gardens as he was leaving. You can probably find him there.”

Liu Qingge snorted, shaking his head fondly. “That’s not surprising. I’m sure he wants to examine all the plants and take notes on them.”

Chen Mingzhu laughed softly. “Yes, that seems about right based on what I know of him. A studious fellow.”

“He’s very diligent,” Liu Qingge said by way of agreement. “The sect is lucky to have him.”

A beat of quiet passed as they both added food to their trays, the clinking of spoons the only sound between them against the murmur of other voices nearby. Finally, with some trepidation, Chen Mingzhu asked, “Is everything alright, Qingge? With your health?”

Liu Qingge hurried to reassure her. “Yes, yes, nothing has changed. You don’t need to worry.” He paused and fiddled with his spoon. “I just want to talk to Mu Qingfang about what you had mentioned before. Whether it’s possible for the curse’s cure to also cure the issues I was already dealing with.”

“Ah,” Chen Mingzhu said in understanding. “Well, I hope he has some good news for you.”

“I do too.” Liu Qingge lapsed into silence, thinking about how grateful he would be if he could return to a life without all the aches and pains and migraines. Being able to fly on Cheng Luan as effortlessly as he had before, not having to worry about qi blockages and inflamed meridians. Maybe his scars would finally fade. It almost seemed too much to hope for, too greedy to wish for. He tried to temper his eagerness, keep his expectations realistic. It would be a boon to be free of Xin Mo’s lingering corruption but if it didn’t work, he knew he could continue to survive the way he had been. It wouldn’t be ideal but he wouldn’t be alone anymore in managing his issues, either. That had to count for something.

Once he had taken what he wanted from the buffet spread, Liu Qingge said goodbye to his mother and headed for the manor’s gardens, taking his breakfast with him.

Willow Manor boasted a large garden running all along the south wall, from behind the kitchens past the living quarters. It was divided into two sections; the portion nearer the kitchens was practical, growing vegetables and herbs for use in cooking and making medicines, while the other half was ornamental, full of decorative plants and trees, stone lanterns, a koi pond, and several benches where onlookers could sit in the shade and enjoy the weather. It was there that Liu Qingge found Mu Qingfang, seated under a large ginkgo tree whose leaves blazed bright yellow, a carpet of them strewn across the ground. His friend had set his own breakfast tray aside on the bench, the bowls empty though the teacup still held tea. The man was busily scribbling in his leather-bound journal with a stick of charcoal, the tome balanced on his knees.

Liu Qingge purposefully scuffed his boots on the ground as he made his way over, not wanting to startle the other man too much. He knew how engrossed Mu Qingfang could get when he was taking notes and jotting down observations. “Have you seen the entire herb plot yet?” he called in lieu of a greeting as he drew nearer.

Mu Qingfang looked up at him, blinking, before answering, “I have, actually. Good variety but I’m still going to make some recommendations to the clan healers for several plants I think they ought to have.”

Liu Qingge grinned. “Of course you are. Your diligence knows no bounds,” he teased as he sat down on the other end of the bench.

Mu Qingfang gave him a look, then closed his journal. “Good morning, Qingge. You seem in fine spirits today.”

Liu Qingge groaned. “You too? My mother said much the same thing.”

“Is that not a good thing?” Mu Qingfang chided then, a little smile pulling at his lips. “Was last night’s company not enjoyable?”

“Qingfang, please,” Liu Qingge implored, flushing.

Mu Qingfang laughed, waving a hand. “I won’t ask for details beyond needing to know if you’ve been cured or not,” he promised, amusement thick in his voice.

“I’m not,” Liu Qingge said gruffly, hiding behind his rice bowl.

“But I assume we are making progress in that direction, yes?” Mu Qingfang asked, somewhat more seriously. When Liu Qingge nodded, he let out a relieved breath. “Good, that’s good. But I just have to say again that you don’t have to rush, Qingge. You can move at your own pace. Be easy on yourself.”

“I know.” Liu Qingge had grown more solemn as well, his expression turning thoughtful. “I feel comfortable at the pace we’re going,” he said slowly, consideringly. He realized it was true. The knowledge that he held the power to dictate how quickly or how sedately things moved along brought a huge measure of comfort and control that he sorely needed. He hadn’t yet been made to feel pressured or uncomfortable, and he really didn’t think he would be, at least not intentionally. Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe both seemed more than content to let him set the tone and engage in exploration along with him. “They’re both very attentive,” he added, cheeks heating a bit.

Mu Qingfang nodded smartly. “I’m glad to hear it. It’s no less than what you deserve.”

“I’m trying to remember that,” Liu Qingge murmured before resuming eating his rice.

Mu Qingfang brushed long strands of hair back over his shoulder as he shifted on the bench, gaze turning outward to the tranquil garden around them. “I know I’ve said it before but if you have questions or concerns, please come to me. I’m here for you, Qingge.”

Liu Qingge’s heart squeezed with a stab of fondness for his friend. “I know you are,” he said softly, smiling a little. “Thank you.” Several long moments of quiet passed, filled with the clinking of Liu Qingge’s chopsticks as he finished his rice and the whisper of the breeze through the ginkgo leaves. He put the empty bowl aside and spoke again. “Actually, Qingfang, I do have a question.”

The doctor turned to glance at him again, expression open and curious. “Oh? What is it?”

“Do you think that Luo Binghe’s…cure will also cure me of Xin Mo’s injuries?” Liu Qingge fiddled with his chopsticks, suddenly feeling nervous about the answer. After a moment, he put the chopsticks aside and reached for his teacup instead, hoping that sipping on the smooth green brew would help steady his nerves.

Mu Qingfang hummed consideringly, raising a hand to tap a fingertip against his chin. “I suppose it’s possible,” he replied thoughtfully. “I think it largely depends on if Luo Binghe’s demonic qi is strong enough to overcome Xin Mo’s that’s left in your body. Xin Mo was among the most powerful objects in the demon realm, after all.” He paused and chewed his lower lip as he lapsed into thought. Liu Qingge sat quietly, tightly gripping his teacup. In the tree branches above their heads, a bird chirped out a lilting song. "It concerns me in this case that Xin Mo had such strong control over Luo Binghe's mind for so long. His spiritual force may not be enough to completely flush Xin Mo's corruption from your body. Perhaps the effects will merely be lessened instead."

It wasn't an outright no, it won't work. Liu Qingge let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "I could live with that," he decided, watching a ginkgo leaf float to the ground nearby. "It would still be an improvement."

"Mm, true enough," Mu Qingfang agreed. "There's also the possibility that over time, a regular infusion of Lord Luo's qi could gradually further improve the situation."

Liu Qingge couldn't help but chuckle incredulously at the polite wording. "So you mean repeated dual cultivation might be helpful?" His cheeks flushed at the implication that he would be in a position to demand such a thing from Luo Binghe for the foreseeable future.

Mu Qingfang snorted. "Yes, that's exactly what I mean. Or he could try a treatment similar to the ones you used to give Master Shen but I suspect both of you would rather indulge in the more pleasurable option." Liu Qingge made a scandalized noise. Mu Qingfang glanced at him, an eyebrow cocked. "Don't tell me I'm wrong. I've seen the way he looks at you."

“You’re not wrong,” Liu Qingge begrudgingly admitted. After all, Luo Binghe had shown plenty of interest in continued and repeated sexual activities. Asking him to continue “providing the cure” certainly wouldn’t be an issue.

Mu Qingfang smiled wryly. “You’re probably the closest you’ve ever been to having an effective treatment,” he mused with a note of self-deprecation. “Who knows how much longer it would take me to find something just as good.”

Liu Qingge sighed. “You need to stop beating yourself up about this,” he scolded, a tiny frown pulling at his lips. “You’ve put in so much time and effort on my behalf that I could never adequately repay you. I’m grateful, Qingfang.”

Mu Qingfang shook his head even as his cheeks flushed the faintest shade of pink at the sincere words. “I’m flattered you feel that way, Qingge. I just wish I could have done more for you over the years.”

Liu Qingge raised a shoulder in a shrug. “You’ve done what you could with the time and tools you have,” he insisted. “You’ve had an entire sect to look after, not just this one reckless peak lord.”

Mu Qingfang huffed a soft laugh. “I hope those two can curb your wild streak a bit. I can’t imagine they’ll be too thrilled with you throwing yourself headlong into any and all danger now that they’ll be expecting you home at the end of your adventures.”

“Mm, you’re probably right,” Liu Qingge agreed. “Or Luo Binghe will want to go with me everywhere.” He pondered the idea; Shen Qingqiu had always expressed concerns about Liu Qingge’s safety on his lone roamings about the countryside but had quieted down once Liu Qingge had taken on Yang Yixuan’s training. But Yang Yixuan was old enough now that Liu Qingge was going to have to start letting him go on more solo missions so he would be spending less time on the road with his disciple eventually. Allowing Luo Binghe to fill the role of travel companion sounded like an agreeable alternative and would keep Qing Jing’s fussy lord satisfied too.

“Maybe so,” Mu Qingfang agreed, reaching for his neglected teacup. “You may find your days of being a carefree loner are at an end.” He paused with the cup halfway to his lips and added, “Though you’ve waited for Shen Qingqiu for so long, I suspect you won’t be bothered at all.” He sounded inordinately pleased.

Liu Qingge nearly choked on his tea. After a moment of undignified spluttering, he asked, “How do you know I waited for him for a long time?!”

“Please.” Mu Qingfang laughed, waving the hand not holding his teacup dismissively. “I have eyes, Qingge. My job is to observe people so that I understand what's not being said even when their mouths tell me one thing. I guessed many years ago that you harbored romantic feelings for Master Shen.” It seemed that Liu Qingge had either not been as opaque as he’d tried to be, or that Mu Qingfang had unusually sharp eyes. Perhaps a bit of both. He wondered who else might have guessed the same as his friend. He supposed it didn’t really matter now. Mu Qingfang caught his embarrassed expression and continued, “I’m really very happy for you, Qingge. I hope you know that.”

Liu Qingge nodded, raising his teacup to his lips. “Thank you.” They sat quietly for a little while, sipping their tea and watching the ornamental grasses lining the gravel pathways sway in the breeze. It was companionable and comfortable. Finally, Liu Qingge shifted and said quietly, almost hesitantly, "I have another question, if you're willing to answer."

Mu Qingfang hummed agreeably. "Of course."

"Did Luo Binghe…offer to help you with your research on Xin Mo? Or did you ask him to?"

Mu Qingfang glanced over at Liu Qingge, his gaze assessing. After a moment, he replied, "He came to me and offered. He had large gaps in his memory and he felt sure he'd done terrible things that he couldn't remember. He knew you were involved somehow but he had no idea of how deeply you'd been affected." He paused and sighed. "I wanted to tell him but I honored your wish for privacy instead so I held my tongue. Lord Luo has been very diligent about providing assistance in my research. I think it's a way for him to take accountability for what went on."

This knowledge further settled Liu Qingge's soul, knowing that Luo Binghe had been trying to make up for his own mistakes for the better part of the last year. It lent more weight to the man's already heartfelt apologies. Liu Qingge hadn't thought Luo Binghe had been lying or insincere but the extra bit of reassurance was nice nonetheless. He couldn't help but chuckle wryly at the strangeness of it all, the complicated currents of his life in recent years. The days of simply walloping his students on the training grounds and then disappearing into the wilderness for months on end seemed as though they had been an age ago, or someone else's life entirely.

"What's funny?" Mu Qingfang asked idly, setting his drained teacup aside on his tray.

"Just thinking about the craziness of the last few years," Liu Qingge replied softly, shaking his head, ponytail swishing. "It's weird isn't it, to end up romantically tied to someone who tried to kill you multiple times?"

Mu Qingfang laughed, his eyes crinkling. "Not as weird as you think. If you read more fiction, you'd know that."

Liu Qingge huffed, exasperated. "Don't laugh at me, I'm being serious."

"I know you are and that makes it more amusing." Mu Qingfang had one more chuckle at his friend's expense before quieting and growing more solemn. His tone of voice simmered down to match. "Maybe it's a little strange but in the end does it matter? If you truly love each other?"

Liu Qingge grunted non-committedly and gazed down at the dregs of the tea in his cup, watching the pale liquid shift and shimmer in the morning light. Did he love Luo Binghe? He wasn’t sure just yet but he knew he could grow to love the man given enough time, and truthfully it likely wouldn’t take very long at all. Luo Binghe was caring and charming and he had so thoroughly integrated himself into Liu Qingge’s life that extricating him from it now seemed impossible. Perhaps falling in love had been a foregone conclusion for them the moment Shen Qingqiu had disappeared from their lives and simultaneously drew them together through his absence.

“People will always find something to judge about others,” Mu Qingfang went on, a note of resignation in his voice. “It’s just how people are, unfortunately. One can’t let that be an obstacle to happiness and contentment in life.”

“You know I’ve never much cared about what people in general think of me,” Liu Qingge said, one corner of his mouth quirking upward wryly. “But the only opinions I do care about are those of my family.” Keeping their regard had been the reason he’d suffered so long in silence, after all. Especially as the eldest son, having the approval of his parents felt important to him. And while they hadn’t blamed him for things that hadn’t been his fault, he couldn’t say how they might take the revelation of Luo Binghe’s identity. Being with Binghe and eventually loving him was something Liu Qingge was choosing for himself. He wasn’t a victim in this instance. The thought that his parents would be angry or disapprove of that choice made his stomach twist uncomfortably. At the same time, he knew he couldn’t keep this secret forever.

Mu Qingfang was adept at reading between the lines. “Are you afraid of what your family will think of Lord Luo being your lover once they learn he’s the one who nearly killed you?”

“I want to think they’d be fine with it,” Liu Qingge murmured in response, swirling the last bits of the tea around his cup. “I know the truth will have to be told eventually. I don’t like keeping secrets from them but…” He trailed off, thinking of how he had for two decades kept the secret of what Deng Rouhuan had done. He hadn’t liked doing it and it hadn’t been pleasant but he thought it was the best thing for everyone all that time. In the end, he’d just ended up hurting himself and those closest to him even more with his silence. It was a misstep he would do well to not repeat.

“I think any reaction your family may have to this situation will almost certainly be based in concern for you and a desire to protect you,” Mu Qingfang said unwaveringly. “Not out of anger at a choice you’ve made with your full faculties.” He paused and when he continued, his tone had gentled somewhat. “I think you know that but you’re letting your anxieties get the better of you.”

Liu Qingge thought of how his cousin had been fierce and ready to defend him when he’d realized who exactly Luo Binghe was. But Jinhai had also been flexible and understanding, taking Liu Qingge’s concerns into account, validating his viewpoint by giving it consideration. Surely Liu Qingge could hope for similar reactions from his parents and everyone else? His mother especially knew how important this relationship was to him. She had just expressed her happiness for him in the main hall not even a sichen ago! Perhaps Mu Qingfang had a point and he was simply allowing himself to fall prey to the same feelings that had prevented him from exposing Deng Rouhuan sooner. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. The last thing he wanted was to disappoint his parents or make them ashamed of him, that much was still true. But he’d already faced that fear once and discovered it to be unfounded. That fact helped settle his worries. He drained his teacup and set it aside finally before speaking again.

“I think you’re right.”

Mu Qingfang nodded, looking satisfied. “Trust them to react based in love and not judgment. Nothing is more important to your parents than your well-being, Qingge. I had many long conversations with them about this very topic while you were recovering.”

Liu Qingge made a noise of surprise. “You did?”

“Yes, they were beside themselves with worry for you. Your father begged me with tears in his eyes to find a way to cure you.” This revelation made Liu Qingge’s heart ache. “Trust me when I say that they will love and adore you regardless of who’s warming your bed.”

Liu Qingge let out a long breath, squared his shoulders, and nodded. “I’ll tell them about Binghe before I return to the sect,” he decided. It wouldn’t do to depart not knowing when exactly he would return and leave the matter untended. And it was surely something that needed to be discussed face-to-face and not through a letter. The more he thought about it, the more he became convinced that he would feel better when it was over—one less thing to worry about.

“That sounds like a good idea,” Mu Qingfang agreed with a crisp nod. “Are you also going to talk to your wayward disciple?”

Liu Qingge couldn’t help but frown at the mention of Yang Yixuan. “Yes. When I leave you I’m going to track him down.”

“Good. That boy has been brooding almost as hard as Zhangmen-shixiong when he gets into one of his moods.”

Liu Qingge cringed. He was all too familiar with their sect leader’s bouts of melancholy. “Has Yixuan said anything to you?” he asked hesitantly.

“Not in so many words, no.” Mu Qingfang shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “I think he may be feeling uncertain and even a bit jealous about this new development in your life and how he may or may not fit into your future.”

“What?” Liu Qingge was genuinely surprised. “It’s not like I’m going to replace him with Luo Binghe as my head disciple.”

Mu Qingfang tutted softly, gently chiding. “Obviously. But he’s nineteen years old, Qingge. He’s looking to you for reassurance that you still care about him and won’t forget about him now that you have new distractions and demands on your time and attention.”

Liu Qingge realized with a jolt of clarity that this would certainly explain his disciple’s recent behavior. He would have to approach this situation with care; he might know such concerns to be unfounded but Yang Yixuan still deserved to be heard. Liu Qingge’s job as his mentor would be to validate his disciple’s feelings in much the same way Jinhai had validated Liu Qingge’s own simply by listening. He had every intention of following through with action. There was no reason his relationship with his disciple had to change. Yang Yixuan would still be his successor someday and was therefore worthy of his continued time and effort.

“Whatever you do, don’t make him feel like a fool,” Mu Qingfang added.

“I wouldn’t,” Liu Qingge solemnly promised.

“Not intentionally, true,” Mu Qingfang conceded. “Think before you speak. I remember some of the shit that’s come out of your mouth in years past.”

“Hey!” It took Liu Qingge a moment to realize Mu Qingfang was laughing at his expense again. The other man’s chuckles only grew deeper when Liu Qingge shoved at his shoulder in recrimination. “Ass! I’m not that bad anymore.”

“No, no, you’re right, you’re really not,” Mu Qingfang agreed with a laugh. “Don’t mind me, it’s just fun to tease you.” He paused and caught his breath before growing somewhat more serious. “But do remember what I said anyway.”

“I will. Thanks.”

They lapsed into a companionable silence. Liu Qingge listened to the sounds of the garden and beyond them, the sounds of the manor going about its morning. Voices drifted over from the direction of the kitchens, too faint and indistinct to understand but somehow soothing. When he concentrated hard enough, he could just make out the ringing of steel from the training grounds. He had an inkling he would find Yang Yixuan there. He raised his eyes to the sky for a long moment, watching the fluffy clouds drifting along, before taking a deep breath and standing up from the bench.

“Heading out to look for your disciple?” Mu Qingfang asked, jolted from his own stupor. No doubt his mind was already filled with herbs and various concoctions again.

“Yes, no sense in putting it off anymore.” Liu Qingge reached for his dirty dishes. He’d be passing near the kitchens on the way to the training yard so he could easily drop off his tray there.

“Good luck.” Mu Qingfang gave him a nod. “Find me later, yeah? I’d like to know how it goes.”

Liu Qingge gave a soft laugh. “Just admit you’re nosy.”

“So what if I am?”

Liu Qingge snorted, already turning away to head down the gravel path away from the bench and his smartass friend. “Alright, alright, doc’s orders, I get it. Goodbye.” He could hear the wry amusement in his own voice.

“See you later, Qingge!”

+++

Yang Yixuan was indeed at the training grounds, just as Liu Qingge had thought. His disciple was engaged in a fierce sparring match with Liu Jinhai. Their battle was fast-paced, complex footwork leaving puffs of dust in their wake as they moved back and forth across the field, gaining and giving up ground to one another in turn. The clashing of their blades was loud in the otherwise peaceful morning air. Liu Qingge stood quietly off to the side, not wanting to interrupt. He naturally followed the rhythm of the match, watching his disciple’s form critically. Yang Yixuan was a capable swordsman and at first glance, he appeared to be holding his own against Jinhai until Liu Qingge realized his cousin was holding back the slightest bit. He was going easy on the boy and Liu Qingge could see why, noticing the gaps in his student’s defense and the barely contained sloppiness in his offense. Liu Qingge sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. Young and emotional, Yang Yixuan was allowing his distracted mind and tumultuous feelings to jeopardize the quality of his combat.

It was lucky this skirmish was only for practice or such a state could cost him his life, proven a moment later when Liu Jinhai handily disarmed his opponent, sending Jia Xue flying far out of reach, and pressing his advantage to end the match with the flat of his own blade pressed up against Yang Yixuan's collarbone. The thud of Yang Yixuan's sword landing solidly in the dirt was the only sound for the space of a heartbeat. Then came Jinhai's voice, sounding both chiding and concerned.

"Where's your head at? If this were a real fight, you'd be dead right now. I know your shizun taught you better than this."

Yang Yixuan’s expression turned contrite and his shoulders slumped slightly. “I know,” he said, just barely loud enough for Liu Qingge to hear from where he was standing. “Shizun wouldn’t be at all impressed with my performance.”

Liu Qingge huffed. That much was true. He was less than impressed, even if he knew there was more to it than his disciple simply slacking or having an off day.

Liu Jinhai lowered his sword and gestured toward Jia Xue where it lay some meters away. “I’m not your master so I’m not going to lecture you on what you did wrong. I have an inkling you already know anyway. Go get your weapon.”

Yang Yixuan ducked his head deferentially and hurried to go scoop his sword up from the ground. As he straightened back up, he caught sight of Liu Qingge quietly observing the exchange on the training grounds. The young man immediately stood up ramrod straight, his fingers tight around Jia Xue’s hilt. His face reflected a mixture of surprise and wariness. “Shizun!” he blurted loudly.

His presence having been discovered, Liu Qingge let his arms fall to his sides and strode out onto the field to join the other two men. His cousin greeted him with a lopsided grin.

“Morning, Qingge. Coming to join the sparring?”

“Mm, I hadn’t planned to but now I think I will,” Liu Qingge mused, giving Yang Yixuan an appraising look. “My disciple still needs some practice in schooling his unruly mind in the moment, it would seem.”

Yang Yixuan cupped his hands and bowed hastily, his sword gripped tightly with its tip pointing at the ground. “I’m sorry, Shizun. This disciple promises to do better.”

“I sincerely hope so,” Liu Qingge replied. “I would hate to see you injured or worse because you were distracted or overthinking in a dicey situation.” He turned toward the racks of training swords, perusing them briefly before reaching for a sword that appeared to be similar in length and weight to Cheng Luan. He tested it with a few swipes through the air and determined it to be satisfactory. “Form up, Yixuan,” he commanded, stepping into a defensive stance in the center of the field.

His disciple hesitated. “But Shizun, without your cultivation--”

“I can still fight,” Liu Qingge interrupted, pointing with the sword at where he wanted his opponent to stand. “I was swinging a blade long before you were born.”

Yang Yixuan looked as though he wanted to say something else but he bit his lip and formed up where his teacher had instructed him to. As soon as he’d assumed a defensive posture, Liu Qingge attacked, not giving the young man any time to get comfortable or alternatively, lost in his own head. Taking Yang Yixuan by surprise in this manner would force him to concentrate on the present moment and push out his mental distractions.

The tactic worked and Yang Yixuan put up a much better fight because of it. Liu Qingge kept the pace whirlwind fast, as fast as he could manage without his cultivation to help him along, and kept his attacks hard and unrelenting. Despite being the one with accessible cultivation, Yang Yixuan never quite recovered his offense, giving up ground to his shizun continually. But his defense tightened up and became nearly impenetrable, which was what Liu Qingge had hoped to see. Yang Yixuan got in a handful of decent strikes as his defense slowly closed up so tightly that it became its own form of offense. Liu Qingge cracked a grin of approval, slowing his own pace and lightening his hits, curious to see what his disciple would do. Yang Yixuan responded by doubling down on his burgeoning attacks, pushing his advantage with growing speed and ferocity. Liu Qingge let this go on for a bit longer before he called for an end to the match without a clear winner.

Yang Yixuan immediately complied, dropping his sword and coming to a stop, panting for a breath. His brows furrowed in confusion. “Why did we stop, Shizun? Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine, don’t worry,” Liu Qingge assured him, shifting his own sword to his off-hand and shaking out his dominant hand. He had perhaps forgotten how taxing sword fighting could be without cultivation to lend strength and endurance. His hand and wrist had started to go a bit numb. “This match was never about winning or losing. I wanted you to focus and tighten your defense, and you did that perfectly. In the end, you turned that defense into an offense, just as I would have expected. Well-done.”

A flush crept across Yang Yixuan’s cheeks. “Thank you, Shizun.”

Liu Qingge stepped forward to give the young man’s shoulder a squeeze. “You won’t be able to afford distractions out there.” He waved the sword in his other hand toward the manor wall and the world beyond. “No matter what’s going on in your life, it won’t matter if you end up dead.”

“Yes, Shizun,” Yang Yixuan murmured, looking a little sheepish. “I’m sorry, Shizun.”

“Don’t apologize.” Liu Qingge shook his head. “Especially since I’ve been the source of your distraction.” Yang Yixuan looked panicked a moment later as the words set in. He opened his mouth to speak, likely to refute the assertion, but Liu Qingge released his shoulder and held up a hand to forestall his words. “Let’s talk, Yixuan.”

His disciple hesitated briefly and then nodded slowly. “Yes, Shizun.”

They headed off the field together. Liu Qingge returned the sword to the rack he’d taken it from while his cousin wandered over, smiling crookedly.

“A much better showing,” Jinhai commented. “He was in need of your direction.”

“I know.” Liu Qingge sighed and turned to face Liu Jinhai. “Thank you for keeping an eye on him.”

Liu Jinhai raised one shoulder in a shrug, his smile widening. “No problem. He’s a good kid.”

Liu Qingge looked past his cousin to where Yang Yixuan had seated himself on one of the benches lining the training yard, waiting patiently for him. “Yes, he is.”

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” Liu Jinahi clapped Liu Qingge on the shoulder and turned toward the exit across the yard. “I’ll see you later, Qingge.”

Liu Qingge gave his cousin a departing nod and headed over to join his disciple on the bench. The younger man had sheathed Jia Xue and propped the sword up against the bench beside him. His posture looked relaxed at a glance but upon further inspection, tension was easily spotted in his broad shoulders. Liu Qingge was quiet for a few moments, thinking of how best to open the conversation. He was no wordsmith, after all. Straightforwardness and honesty had always permeated his relationship with his student, his health issues notwithstanding, so it seemed that was probably the best approach to take this time too and just come right out with the issue.

“Yixuan, what’s wrong? Your mood has been sour and you’ve been avoiding me.”

Yang Yixuan let out a breath. “So you noticed.”

Liu Qingge huffed. “Of course I noticed.” He paused and gentled his tone a bit. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

Yang Yixuan shrugged, not looking at his shizun. “Maybe,” he muttered sullenly. “You have other things going on.”

Liu Qingge sighed softly, saddened by the thought that this boy he’d for all intents and purposes raised the previous six years would imagine he’d rank so low in his master’s priorities. “That doesn’t mean I don’t care about you or what’s going on with you. You’re my head disciple and my best student. That’s no small thing.”

A beat of quiet passed during which neither of them spoke. Yang Yixuan scuffed the sole of his boot on the ground a few times, looking like he was having an internal debate with himself. Liu Qingge sat quietly, patiently waiting. Finally, Yang Yixuan sighed and spoke.

“It’s not that I don’t want you to be happy, Shizun. I do. I’ve just been afraid of the way our relationship will change now that you have other people close to you.” He paused and let out an angry huff. When he spoke again, his voice held a distinct note of frustration. “I’m sorry, Shizun. I know it’s childish and selfish. I guess it’s just been you and me for so long that I’m upset at that changing.”

Liu Qingge spared a thought for how spot-on Mu Qingfang’s assessment of the situation had been. “I don’t see any need for our relationship to change,” he said quietly. “You’re my student and I’m your mentor. That hasn’t changed. It’s still my duty and my pleasure to train you and equip you to take over the peak someday.” Yang Yixuan made an acknowledging noise. “If you ever feel that I’m neglecting you, please come talk to me about it,” Liu Qingge added, twisting his fingers in embarrassment at the possibility. He’d always been responsible to a fault and he liked to think that simply having a new relationship wouldn’t change that. Shen Qingqiu was a peak lord himself, he also had things he had to do and responsibilities to look after. Likewise, Luo Binghe had duties in the demon realm. They all had things and people they just couldn’t abandon because they were lovers now. Liu Qingge hesitated and then murmured, “I can’t promise I’ll always be perfect, Yixuan. But I will do my best. I can promise I’m not suddenly going to forget about you.”

Yang Yixuan let out a faint chuckle that almost sounded more like a relieved hitching of his breath. “You don’t have to be perfect, Shizun. I guess I was just wanting some reassurance, is all.”

“I understand,” Liu Qingge said softly. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

A beat of silence passed. The air between them felt somewhat lighter but Liu Qingge could tell there was something else on his disciple’s mind yet. He waited, giving the young man time to gather his thoughts. Finally, Yang Yixuan asked hesitantly, “Can I ask you something, Shizun?”

“Of course.”

“Please don’t take offense to this but…” Yang Yixuan paused again, his fingertips tapping on his knees. Liu Qingge waited once more. “Are you…safe with them, Shizun?” Yang Yixuan eventually continued, his tone a mix of concern and nervousness.

Liu Qingge’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Yang Yixuan gestured expansively with sudden intensity, his dark eyes resolute. “I mean, they’re not taking advantage of you, are they? Manipulating you because you need Luo Binghe to give you the cure?”

Liu Qingge was stunned. His mouth fell open, speechless, as he stared at his disciple. He managed to shake his head several times before he found his voice to reply. “No. There’s nothing like that going on. What makes you think there might be? Is it because of my history with Luo Binghe?”

Yang Yixuan didn’t answer right away, merely lifting a shoulder in a half-shrug, and Liu Qingge took that as an affirmative response. After several long moments, his disciple spoke. “I know you can look after yourself, Shizun, but I can’t help but be wary. I don’t want you to get hurt.” Yang Yixuan flushed and looked more embarrassed than Liu Qingge had ever seen him, even after he’d made mistakes that ruined entire missions. He looked away and scuffed the toe of his boot in the dirt, frowning for a long moment. “I respect Master Shen a great deal,” he continued, “but he’s hurt you too.” He looked up at Liu Qingge then, his expression conflicted but quietly pleading, as if willing the older man to understand.

Liu Qingge felt a swell of fondness for his disciple. He knew Yang Yixuan was half-expecting an irritated or outraged response but he couldn’t in that moment imagine being angry with him for such concern. Liu Qingge sighed, reaching out to squeeze Yang Yixuan’s shoulder.

“I don’t want to overstep, Shizun,” Yang Yixuan murmured then, ducking his head. “I’m sorry.”

"I know your words come from a sincere place," Liu Qingge assured his disciple. "I don't consider that overstepping." Yang Yixuan glanced up, his expression reflecting hopeful relief. Liu Qingge grimaced as he continued, "I also understand that this whole situation is complicated, for me and for you."

Yang Yixuan was nodding, looking solemn. "I'm glad you seem to be moving forward, Shizun, after everything you've been through. But I just can't forget all the times he…" The young man paused, throat clicking as he swallowed. When he spoke again, his voice was nearly a whisper. "... nearly killed you."

An uncomfortable silence fell between them. Liu Qingge found he had no response to that statement, no denial, no justification. He knew his disciple spoke the truth and to say anything against it would be to minimize what had happened, minimize his own trauma and that of his ward. Perhaps worst of all, it would minimize Yang Yixuan's concern and care for him.

Eventually, Yang Yixuan spoke again, his voice trembling the slightest bit as his fingers tightened into fists. "I know Xin Mo was a corrupting influence and Luo Binghe has large gaps in his memory from those years, but I still get angry when I think about it for too long. I've never talked about it with him because I'm afraid of the things I might say if I do." He huffed a frustrated breath before looking Liu Qingge directly in the eyes, his own alight with earnestness. "I know you felt like you'd failed Master Shen all that time, Shizun, but you were the one who was wronged."

Liu Qingge was speechless, staring at Yang Yixuan. Bold assertions to be sure, but he knew there was truth in them, his gut twisting uncomfortably with it. His heart cracked a little at the thought that while he'd been wallowing in his shame and guilt, his disciple had been righteously angry on his behalf. Considering it had taken Liu Qingge twenty years to realize he was pissed off about injustices done to him as a teenager, it wasn't surprising he hadn't made it there yet with events that had only ceased about a year ago.

"I'm not saying people can't change or make up for their mistakes," Yang Yixuan murmured then, his gaze turning distant and introspective. "I just want you to be treated well, Shizun. That's all."

Liu Qingge squeezed Yang Yixuan’s shoulder again. “Thank you,” he murmured, voice cracking the slightest bit.

Yang Yixuan swung his gaze back to his mentor’s face, brows furrowing slightly. “Shizun?”

Liu Qingge was only a little embarrassed at the pricking of tears behind his eyes and the press of emotion catching in his throat, making his voice rough when he spoke next. “You were at my side for all of those five years and I never said thank you. I’m sorry for that but I’m thanking you now. Thank you for being there and for caring when I was too tired and too ashamed.”

A tiny smile curved Yang Yixuan’s lips. “Of course, Shizun. If I would have stood a chance against Luo Binghe back then, I would have fought him for you.”

Liu Qingge let out a watery laugh. “I’m very glad you didn’t do that. It wasn’t your battle to fight. It meant so much more to have you right where you were.”

Yang Yixuan grew serious again. “Shizun, you should know I’ll probably be wary about all of this for a while yet. But if you’re genuinely happy and safe with them, then I won’t interfere.”

“I appreciate that.” Liu Qingge paused and cleared his throat, his cheeks heating as he said somewhat stiffly, “I have loved Shen Qingqiu for a long time and I believe they both love me. I am truly happy with them.”

“And what about your feelings for Luo Binghe?” Yang Yixuan couldn’t resist asking, gaze still sharp and watchful.

“I trust him,” Liu Qingge said slowly, feeling out the words as he said them. “I know he won’t hurt me.”

Yang Yixuan let out a soft relieved breath and nodded. “Good. That will help me sleep at night knowing that.”

“Please don’t lose sleep on my account,” Liu Qingge insisted, giving the young man’s shoulder a little shake before releasing it.

“I’ll try not to.” Yang Yixuan laughed then and Liu Qingge thought he’d hardly been more relieved and grateful to hear such a sound. Yang Yixuan turned earnest eyes to his mentor. “Thank you for listening, Shizun. I feel better about everything now.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Liu Qingge said with a little smile of his own. “I was worried about you.” He held up a hand to forestall his disciple’s impending apology. “As I said before, please come talk to me if you have concerns.”

Yang Yixuan nodded. “I will.”

A comfortable quiet fell between them and the two of them just sat there in one another’s company for a while, watching the clouds. The sun was nearing its zenith in the sky; it was already approaching midday. Liu Qingge knew he would need to sit with the things his disciple had told him for a time. Just because he was in a good place with his lovers didn’t mean the past and its effects were wiped out. It was an uncomfortable truth that all three of them would have to face daily and strive to move beyond. If issues arose, they would have to sort them out together. But wasn’t that the point, that they were together in order to do so? None of them were alone.

Liu Qingge thought Mu Qingfang would be proud of him. That brought a smile to his lips as he closed his eyes and turned his face to the sun.

Chapter 27

Notes:

Hello everyone! Here's an update, better late than never, I guess. My work chaos really hasn't let up and won't anytime soon BUT I have a week's vacation coming up soon and I hope to get a bunch of writing done then! A few more loose ends in this chapter, a little bit of lore, and the direct build-up to the banquet, which will be in the next chapter.

Thanks for reading, see you in the comments, and stay tuned for the next update! I appreciate all of you so much! <3

It wasn’t until after lunch that Liu Qingge remembered that he had promised Shen Qingqiu that they would do more training with the battle fan. That had been only the previous afternoon; he felt like a million things had happened since then. But he thought back to how the three of them had flirted on the training grounds and the natural grace with which Shen Qingqiu had taken to the combat forms with the fan and suddenly he wanted more of all that. They had a few sichen to waste before the night’s festivities and this would be an excellent way to spend it if his lovers were willing. When he floated the idea to them as they were leaving the main hall, agreement was enthusiastic and immediate. Shen Qingqiu would have to go retrieve his fan, so Liu Qingge agreed to meet the other men at the training grounds shortly.

When he arrived there, he found his disciple dutifully practicing sword forms as if he had never left. Liu Qingge tutted, brows furrowing as he wandered over. “Did you eat?” he demanded in lieu of a greeting. He didn’t think he’d seen his disciple in the main hall among his relatives.

Yang Yixuan came to a halt abruptly, panting. His forehead was beaded in sweat, the loose strands of his bangs sticking to his temples. “Shizun! You’re back.” The young man drew in a deep breath and then answered Liu Qingge’s question. “No, I haven’t eaten. Did I miss lunch?”

Liu Qingge crossed his arms over his chest, huffing and eyeing his disciple. “Actually, yes. I just came from the main hall.”

Yang Yixuan looked surprised. “I hadn’t realized how much time passed since you left earlier.”

“Yixuan, go take a break. Get some food.” Liu Qingge’s tone was firm. He didn’t want his student to run himself to the edge of exhaustion, especially if Yang Yixuan was working himself doubly hard in some misguided effort to make up for his lapse in performance earlier. Knowing how seriously the young man took his role as Bai Zhan’s head disciple, such a case was more likely than not.

Yang Yixuan’s expression turned sheepish and he inclined his head humbly. He was smart enough to guess his master had seen through his motivations. “Yes, Shizun.” Liu Qingge watched the younger man mop his brow with his sleeve and sheathe his sword. Yang Yixuan offered Liu Qingge a bow with cupped hands, overly formal, no doubt in hopes of forestalling a lecture on conserving his strength or something similar. The corner of Liu Qingge’s lips twitched upward in exasperated amusement. “I’ll be going, Shizun.”

Liu Qingge nodded. “I’ll see you later, then.”

He let his disciple go without a lecture, thoughtfully watching the young man’s retreating back for a long moment. He should have guessed that Yang Yixuan would feel the need to work himself even harder than usual after his recent bouts of distraction and moodiness, eager to make up for his perceived faults and prove his worthiness to his teacher, even if he didn’t actually need to. Liu Qingge shook his head, sighing and lamenting the fact that in this way, he and his disciple were very much alike. Finally, he turned away in search of a suitable weapon for his own use in the upcoming training.

The armory sat adjacent to the training grounds, a compact building built for function though it had still been painted to match the rest of the manor. It was there that Liu Qingge headed, putting his shoulder to the heavy door and giving it a push. It opened with a creak, revealing a room dim even in the bright afternoon light, dust motes dancing in the shafts of sunlight that did manage to slant in through the high narrow windows near the ceiling. The walls were all lined with racks holding swords, spears, pikes, maces, and several types of bows. Arrows lay in bundles in one corner. In the center of the room, a rustic table held several chests which Liu Qingge knew were full of daggers and other small weapons. Somewhere in one of them, there should still be one of his old battle fans.

He brushed a thin layer of dust off of the lid of the nearest chest and flicked the clasps. The hinges creaked when he opened the chest, revealing a bundle of sheathed daggers and, underneath them, the object he’d been looking for. It was a stroke of luck that he had chanced upon it with such little effort. The fan was plain, made of simple black silk and oxidized steel ribs, dull enough to not reflect light. It was a sturdy and practical weapon, not at all as flashy as the fan Shen Qingqiu had bought in Doho City. Liu Qingge closed the chest and then turned back toward the doorway, flipping the fan open as he did so, relishing in the loud crack it made. A tiny smile of satisfaction tugged at his lips. He might not use fans all that often but he would be the first to admit they did have their own appeal.

“Liu-shidi looks dashing with a fan in hand,” Shen Qingqiu commented from the doorway, his elegant voice disturbing the relative quiet of the armory. Liu Qingge looked up in surprise to see the other man lazily leaning against the doorframe, his own battle fan tucked into his belt. He wore a delighted smile, green eyes fond. “It makes you look scholarly.”

Liu Qingge snorted. “You’re the only scholar here but thanks anyway.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Qingge. You’re no idiot,” Shen Qingqiu insisted, pushing away from the doorframe to approach Liu Qingge. He was still smiling but his tone was less playful than before. “Who else could so competently teach this scholar the art of the battle fan?”

Liu Qingge couldn’t help the embarrassed but pleased flush that heated his cheeks. “Now you’re just flattering me,” he demurred, feeling shy, gaze sliding off to the side.

“Maybe I just like complimenting you,” Shen Qingqiu murmured, reaching out to gently grasp Liu Qingge’s wrist and draw him closer. He leaned in for a kiss that made Liu Qingge’s toes curl inside his boots, deep and lingering. When Shen Qingqiu drew back, he added, “You blush so prettily, after all.”

The sound of Luo Binghe clearing his throat just outside the door interrupted them. “I was under the impression we were here for training.” His tone was light and amused and that only made Liu Qingge’s blush deepen. Thoughts of Yang Yixuan’s concerns came flooding back, intrusive and uncomfortable. He couldn’t allow the novelty and newness of this relationship to become a distraction so great that everything else fell by the wayside. He had promised his disciple he would do his best, after all. Liu Qingge straightened his spine and squared his shoulders, flicking the fan in his hand closed.

“Quite right,” he muttered, gesturing toward the doorway and the training grounds beyond. “Shall we?”

Shen Qingqiu inclined his head in mute agreement, stepping lightly back the way he’d come. Luo Binghe moved aside to allow the other men passage past him but Liu Qingge paused at the threshold, reaching up to slap the closed fan against the demon lord’s chest. Luo Binghe grunted in surprise, reflexively taking the weapon. “What’s this?” he asked, brows furrowed.

“You said you wanted to learn, too,” Liu Qingge explained brusquely. “You can use this fan.”

A moment’s pause and then Luo Binghe nodded before offering Liu Qingge a brilliant smile. “Shishu is thoughtful, as always. Thank you.”

Liu Qingge’s cheeks heated again, much to his annoyance. Would he ever stop blushing around these two? He jerked his chin toward the open ground ahead, where Shen Qingqiu had already taken out his own fan and settled into a routine of basic forms for warm-up. “Let’s go. Your shizun has already begun without us.”

It was the right motivation to use to spur Luo Binghe into action. He hurried to catch up to Shen Qingqiu, following the older man’s movements while simultaneously allowing Liu Qingge’s minor corrections. Liu Qingge could see that the two had finally settled into a measure of seriousness and were focusing on the activity at hand; he knew he could speak and direct and be listened to with no fuss. Just how he liked it. Of course, after running Shen Qingqiu through a review of the combat forms he had learned in their prior training, the training diverged. Shen Qingqiu moved on to practicing actually adding his channeled qi into the movements, learning the best techniques for aiming and projecting it to create attack patterns. Liu Qingge regretted that he couldn’t demonstrate such things himself with his cultivation inaccessible but he did his best to explain them and then critique Shen Qingqiu’s interpretation in application.

Meanwhile, Luo Binghe had speedily mastered the most basic combat forms after only half a sichen of effort. Clearly, he needed a challenge. Liu Qingge huffed in some measure of fond exasperation, stepping over to Luo Binghe’s side, ready to direct the other man into the most advanced moves he knew how to teach when the arrival of Yang Yixuan interrupted them. The disciple had apparently decided he still needed to spend yet more time training even after his master had sent him off to have lunch and take a break. He’d come charging back with Jia Xue in hand and a fervent light in his eyes. His steps faltered when he saw the other three people already present, certainly having expected to have the training grounds to himself. His surprised gaze skipped from Shen Qingqiu to Luo Binghe and finally to Liu Qingge, obviously seeking guidance. “Shizun…?” he said somewhat helplessly, questioningly.

An extended moment passed during which Liu Qingge could easily imagine the painful awkwardness that could result from all four of them unexpectedly crossing paths in this manner. He hurried to avoid it, giving his disciple his full attention and raising a hand to wave him over. “Yixuan, good timing. Come on over here.”

The young man hesitated for half a heartbeat but then made his way closer to where Liu Qingge was standing with Luo Binghe, offering Shen Qingqiu a small bow and a respectful, “Master Shen,” as he passed by. Shen Qingqiu offered a beatific smile and inclined his head in response, continuing on with his qi channeling exercises, robes and loose hair swirling gracefully. Yang Yixuan came to a halt before Liu Qingge, glancing bashfully at Luo Binghe quickly before looking away again. Beside Liu Qingge, he could practically sense the demon lord vibrating in nervous excitement; it seemed he’d been as confused and concerned by Yang Yixuan’s recent avoidance as Liu Qingge had been.

“I’ve been teaching these two combat forms with the fan,” Liu Qingge briskly explained to his disciple, not giving any of them a chance to dwell on any potential mounting tension in the atmosphere. “Binghe is ready to level up from basic forms. I was going to fast-track him to the most advanced forms I know but now that you’re here, I want to change it up.”

“What did you have in mind, Shizun?” Yang Yixuan asked, expression beginning to show a measure of curiosity. Liu Qingge repressed a tiny smile. Another way he and his disciple were similar: the prospect of a good fight would always be enticing.

“I think Binghe would benefit from sparring against a capable opponent armed with a different weapon, such as a sword,” Liu Qingge said thoughtfully. “I can’t be that opponent in any meaningful way without my cultivation but I believe you are up to the task.” It was a bit of a white lie; Liu Qingge knew he could hold his own against Luo Binghe for a while even without his spiritual power but this was a good opportunity to throw the two young men together and push the situation beyond any potential awkwardness.

Yang Yixuan’s eyes widened momentarily but he quickly recovered his composure, giving a little bow. He was never usually this formal. Liu Qingge figured it was a byproduct of the young man feeling a bit tense and uncomfortable. “I’d be happy to participate in the training, Shizun.”

Luo Binghe inclined his head in Yang Yixuan’s direction, looking relieved and pleased. When he spoke, there was a distinct note of happiness in his voice. “You honor me with your efforts.”

Yang Yixuan looked somewhat embarrassed, the faintest blush dusting his cheeks as he waved Binghe off. “It’s no problem.”

Liu Qingge nodded in satisfaction. “Both of you form up.” He moved away, gesturing for the two others to fall into appropriate positions.

Liu Qingge had of course trained Yang Yixuan in the fan arts early on in their time together so Luo Binghe using basic forms against him in sparring wouldn’t be much of a challenge. As the two of them began trading blows and moving back and forth across the field, friendly banter naturally arose in the meantime. Yang Yixuan offered a critique here and there. Luo Binghe cracked a joke. They both laughed. Liu Qingge stood off to the side with his arms crossed over his chest, watching silently. Truthfully, he was more invested at the moment in the salvaging of this friendship than Luo Binghe’s combat training. Binghe would have no issues learning more advanced techniques in the future, after all. There was no need to rush into that right this moment.

“I think they’re going to be just fine,” Shen Qingqiu’s voice murmured near Liu Qingge’s elbow. He had apparently paused his own training to come to observe his husband sparring with his friend. “Don’t you?”

Liu Qingge made a noise of agreement, glancing over at Shen Qingqiu. The Qing Jing peak lord’s hair was mussed, flyaway strands loose around his flushed cheeks. A fine sheen of sweat glistened on his throat. He tapped his closed fan on his opposite palm as he watched the sparring. Liu Qngge’s lips curled in a faint smile before he turned his eyes back to the match. “Yeah,” he replied. “I think so.”

Shen Qingqiu shifted closer, bumping his shoulder into Liu Qingge’s gently. “It’s good of you to do this, bring them together like this,” he murmured. “I doubt they even realize what’s happening but they’ll feel better after this.”

"Don't give me too much credit," Liu Qingge said wryly. "I didn't plan this. It was a spur-of-the-moment idea."

Shen Qingqiu huffed a soft laugh. "Either way, we should all be able to relax a bit now. Binghe has been fretting quietly about what he might have done to earn your disciple's ire."

Liu Qingge figured such had been the case. "Yixuan was simply concerned about my safety." He didn't feel right saying much more, knowing his student's feelings and worries had been confided to him in confidence. If Yixuan eventually wished to talk to Luo Binghe about his lingering resentment around the five years of daily battles, he could decide to do so on his own. Still, Shen Qingqiu was no idiot. He made a considering noise and Liu Qingge wondered if the other peak lord was guessing at what was not being said.

"That's understandable," Shen Qingqiu mused, pushing some of his hair back over his shoulder, eyes never leaving the ongoing sparring match. "He's protective of you. The years you spent fighting Binghe can't have been easy for him, either."

Liu Qingge grunted in response but said nothing. He was reminded once again of the far-reaching effects of those years, of all the people who had been hurt or traumatized in some way or another. The fallout certainly hadn't been limited to any one person.

Shen Qingqiu sighed. “Perhaps I owe him an apology,” he said so softly that his words were nearly lost on the breeze.

Liu Qingge’s gaze snapped over to the other man, brows furrowing. “What for?”

One of Shen Qingqiu’s slim shoulders lifted in a shrug, the action managing to be somehow both casual and sheepish. The expression on his face had become pensive, his green eyes distant, half-lost in his own thoughts. “If it weren’t for my actions, your disciple wouldn’t have suffered. I feel bad about that.” He paused and blinked, his gaze returning to the present moment and his current surroundings, finding Liu Qingge’s face unerringly. A myriad of emotions swirled in his eyes, too many to pick out, but Liu Qingge found himself ensnared by them nonetheless, drawn in helplessly by their intensity and earnestness. “I certainly owe you an apology,” Shen Qingqiu said, his voice wavering only the slightest bit. “I’m sorry for everything, Qingge. I was careless, I was selfish, and I didn’t think about how my own actions would affect the people around me. It wasn’t fair to anyone and certainly not to you.”

Liu Qingge blinked. “You’ve already apologized to me several times recently,” he said with a note of surprise. “You don’t have to do so again.”

“Those were for different things,” Shen Qingqiu insisted, gesturing with his fan frustratedly. “I had more than one thing to say sorry for. You were one of the people most affected by everything that happened and I regret that.”

While part of Liu Qingge truly felt that such words were unnecessary, another part of him did appreciate the effort to acknowledge his struggles. Shen Qingqiu had apologized many days ago for the physical harm Liu Qingge had endured on his behalf and now he had been given similar sentiments to address the emotional hardships that had accompanied his injuries. It did admittedly soothe a corner of his heart he hadn’t realized was still a bit sore. He let out a breath and inclined his head, silently accepting the other man’s apology. He didn’t feel the need to gunk up the moment with more words, especially considering they weren’t his strong suit. The moment settled between them, both of them relaxing into the quiet, broken only by the sounds of the two younger men nearby continuing their sparring and bantering.

Finally, Shen Qingqiu shifted. “Would Shidi like to observe this one’s progress from before?” His tone was less serious now but still soft, almost hesitant as if he thought there was a chance Liu Qingge might refuse.

As if such a thing were possible. Liu Qingge held back a snort of fond exasperation. “Of course,” was his simple reply, turning to follow his first love, leaving the disciple and the demon lord to their sparring. Wherever Shen Qingqiu lead, Liu Qingge would follow. No matter the pain or struggle, after all some things never changed.

+++

After training, it was time to prepare for the night’s feast at the Golden Grove. Liu Qingge explained the expectations to his lovers and his disciple as the four of them walked back toward their rooms from the training grounds. The clan pulled out all the stops for this final feast with the ancestors. Everyone was expected to dress in their finest clothes and accessories and even carry their spiritual weapons, just as the banquet table would be laden with the finest bronze, silver, and gold dishes and cutlery. The most expensive wine would be brought out for the occasion.

“Sounds akin to a court function,” Shen Qingqiu commented, looking intrigued.

“Except for the fact that it’s held outside and weapons are considered a requirement, yes,” Liu Qingge agreed. “There will also be a strict seating order observed, unlike the other banquets so far. We leave empty chairs between every guest so the ancestors can sit with us.”

Luo Binghe’s tone was the slightest bit wistful when he spoke. “Shishu, your clan really knows how to honor your roots. There are similar rituals practiced among certain clans in the demon realm but I’ve never been to one.” He didn’t have to say the reason for that was because heavenly demons like himself were all but extinct. Luo Binghe had no family left to speak of. The thought admittedly made Liu Qingge sad if he dwelled on it too long.

“Then it’s good you’re here for this one,” Liu Qingge said, which brought a smile to Luo Binghe's lips. The sight made Liu Qingge glad. He was beginning to realize he didn't like seeing Binghe sorrowful or really just anything other than his usual boisterous self. Maybe he'd already disliked it while Shen Qingqiu had been dead; the demon lord's grief was a reminder of what Liu Qingge had lost and only reinforced his own pain. Now his distaste was more focused on how he didn't wish any form of suffering upon Luo Binghe but instead hoped for his happiness. The realization brought heat to Liu Qingge's cheeks; perhaps he was falling in love, after all.

When they reached the first courtyard of lodging, Yang Yixuan excused himself with a polite bow. Liu Qingge took the chance to attempt to do the same. “The robes I need are in my room,” he explained, gesturing awkwardly. The almost disgustingly fancy robes he’d worn to meet the emperor were waiting in his bedroom, hanging neatly in his wardrobe where he’d put them his first night home. He’d been concerned they would crease or wrinkle if left too long in his qiankun pouch.

“Will you be alright going in there?” Shen Qingqiu asked softly, expression concerned.

Liu Qingge nodded. “Yes, I’ll be fine.” The thought of entering his own personal rooms again didn’t hold nearly as much distress now as it had the first time he’d returned there.

“Well, don’t hesitate to come to us if you need anything.” Shen Qingqiu’s voice was still gentle but held a note of firmness.

Liu Qingge promised he would, then kissed them both goodbye and made his way to his rooms. When he slipped through the door, he was met by stillness but it felt familiar, welcoming. He could still smell the fresh timber of the new floorboards in his bedroom but aside from that, nothing else was amiss. He stood quietly for several long moments and just breathed in the scents of his own space, the old scrolls on the shelf, the tang of blade oil, and the light sweetness of his hair treatments, overlaid with a whiff of incense. Moving into his bedroom, Liu Qingge’s eyes fell on Cheng Luan, just where he’d left it last time, lying on the bed. He greeted the sword by picking it up and cradling it carefully, the leather wrapping the scabbard smooth under his fingertips. Even without his cultivation available to sense the weapon’s energy, it felt good to have it in his hands again. He was looking forward to carrying it tonight.

Propping the sword up against the bedside table, Liu Qingge next ran a hand across the duvet on his bed, the new one that had been brought in to replace his old one that had been burned. It was soft. Suddenly, he couldn’t resist the urge to flop down on his bed. He hadn’t lain here since the night of the assault. Liu Qingge wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting but his bed simply felt like…his bed. He wriggled around on his back, getting comfortable, the contours of the mattress familiar in ways the bed in the guest room wasn’t. He sighed a bit shakily, secretly relieved that it seemed entirely possible he could once again sleep in this bed without it feeling strange. If anything, it was comforting to know that though he might be changed, inanimate objects he treasured were indeed just that, inanimate. Unchanging. His eyes traced the ceiling for several long moments before sliding closed, intending to only rest them briefly.

He must have drifted off to a light sleep because the next thing he knew cool fingers were brushing over his forehead and a soft murmur of his name was pulling him to awareness. “Wake up, Qingge.” The fingers traced the slope of his nose. Liu Qingge blinked his eyes open slowly to find Shen Qingqiu sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down at him with a soft smile.

“I fell asleep again,” Liu Qingge said to no one in particular. It was almost a question, almost an offhand comment. “I’ve been doing that a lot lately.”

Shen Qingqiu stroked his cheek with the backs of his fingers. “Mu-shidi did say that you would be tired while your body fights the curse. One of the side effects of your medicine is fatigue.”

Liu Qingge frowned slightly. “He never told me that.”

“Probably because he was afraid you wouldn’t want to take it,” Shen Qingqiu said with a laugh. His thumb pressed ever so lightly against the beauty mark under Liu Qingge’s eye before lifting away like a fleeting kiss from a butterfly. “It’s evening and the sun is going down and you’re not ready for the banquet.”

Liu Qingge blinked in surprise; it seemed he’d lost a sichen if not more to sound sleep in his own bed. On one hand, it was comforting knowing he could probably move back into his own rooms again. On the other, it was worrying how tired he’d been recently. He’d attributed his fatigue to stress or how overwhelming it had been to have the touch and intimate attention of another person again after so long, but maybe it was more complicated than that. Was it really his medicine and the curse taking their combined toll on him? He would have to ask Mu Qingfang about this. He pushed up from the bed and stretched his neck as Shen Qingqiu stood. Liu Qingge took notice of the other man’s fine robes of deep green brocade embroidered in shining gold thread, sleeves long and flowing. A polished gold hair crown shone from its place nestled atop dark hair and an intricately carved fan was tucked into his belt. Shen Qingqiu must have packed a dozen fans in his qiankun pouch for this trip. Liu Qingge had yet to see the same one twice. At the Qing Jing lord’s waist hung Xiu Ya, the sword’s carved and embellished scabbard catching the light as its master moved. It had been a long time since Liu Qingge had seen Xiu Ya but the weapon looked as well cared for as it ever had.

Shen Qingqiu settled a hand on Xiu Ya’s hilt as the sword rattled slightly in its scabbard. The rattling eased and stopped only moments later. Liu Qingge imagined he was soothing the weapon with a gentle trickle of qi. Liu Qingge had done the same at various times with Cheng Luan when the sword’s energies became unsettled. Shen Qingqiu grinned crookedly. “Xiu Ya is greeting Cheng Luan with enthusiasm,” he explained.

A similar clattering came from where Liu Qingge had propped up Cheng Luan earlier, much louder against the wood of the side table. Liu Qingge huffed in amusement, reaching for his sword. Holding it in his hands, he could feel the vibrations against his palms but the excited flare of energy that should have accompanied it was of course absent. Liu Qingge’s heart twisted painfully as he remembered he couldn’t even soothe his own spiritual weapon. Shen Qingqiu must have sensed his stab of frustration because he reached over and stroked a gentle hand along Chen Luan’s scabbard.

“There, there,” he murmured. “Settle down now. We’re glad to see you too.”

To Liu Qingge’s surprise and embarrassment, Cheng Luan did indeed settle down at Shen Qingqiu’s prompting, the vibrations of the blade slowly subsiding until the sword lay as quietly in its scabbard as Xiu Ya. Normally, Cheng Luan was as prickly as its master; the fact it responded so willingly to Shen Qingqiu’s qi felt like just another confession of love. When Shen Qingqiu pulled his hand away and took a step back, his eyes were twinkling.

“I think your spiritual weapon likes me,” he commented smugly, looking all too pleased with himself.

Liu Qingge flushed as he set Cheng Luan aside on the bed. “Of course it does,” he muttered as he stood. “It's an extension of me.”

Shen Qingqiu smiled and leaned in to press a kiss to Liu Qingge’s cheek. “So what I’m hearing is whenever you’re being too stubborn to talk about your feelings or whatever may be bothering you, I should check in with your spiritual weapon.”

Liu Qingge huffed in exasperation, catching the other man around the waist and holding him still for a proper kiss on the lips. Several long moments were lost to the slide and press of their mouths together, Shen Qingqiu’s hand coming up to cradle Liu Qingge’s jaw tenderly. When they parted, Liu Qingge admitted somewhat sheepishly, “It’s actually not a terrible idea, you know. I know I can be tight-lipped.”

Shen Qingqiu laughed, a light tinkling sound, as he reached for Liu Qingge’s belt. “I love you anyway, I promise. Now let’s get you dressed for the evening. We don’t want to be late.”

With a little smile, Liu Qingge surrendered himself to the moment and Shen Qingqiu’s gentle hands.

Chapter 28

Notes:

Hello lovelies! CW for this chapter at the end: mildly graphic violence and blood. Things take a turn here...I hope it's an enjoyable read! A little longer update this time as well.

As always, please let me know what you think in the comments! Take care of yourselves until the next update ❤️

Liu Qingge fiddled with the wide sleeves of his court robes as he followed Shen Qingqiu toward Willow Manor's main courtyard. The brocaded cloth was heavy and stiff, so unlike his lightweight and unfussy everyday robes. He'd been wearing these robes for less than a quarter sichen and he already couldn't wait to take them off later. Four layers of fabric wrapped his body, high around his throat and held in place by an ornate belt secured around his slim waist. Silver and pewter buckles and ornaments glittered on the belt; silvery thread in the embroidered cloud pattern along his sleeves shimmered under the beams of the rising moon. The motif was meant to represent Bai Zhan and Cang Qiong as a whole, while an enameled brooch of a willow tree clasped at his collar denoted his clan. The matching silver hair crown was heavy atop his head, inky tresses done in a half updo, a marked departure from his typical ponytail. Shen Qingqiu had woven tiny braids into the hairstyle and threaded them with delicate silver beads that tinkled pleasantly against each other with Liu Qingge's movements. At the other man's encouragement, he'd also worn the labradorite earrings his sister had given him, a final flourish to the finery.

Liu Qingge did not feel like himself at all. The only comforting and familiar aspect of this entire ridiculous getup was Cheng Luan belted at his waist. Still, it was tradition. He figured he could put up with it for a few sichen this evening and then tuck the robes away and ignore their existence again for an extended period of time. Shen Qingqiu, on the other hand, had been delighted with Liu Qingge's appearance and had showered him in compliments and kisses that had brought a bright heat to Liu Qingge's cheeks. The sentiments were echoed by Luo Binghe when they all met in the main courtyard.

"Shishu!" the other man exclaimed, his dark eyes sweeping Liu Qingge's figure from head to toe and back again, very deliberately. "You look stunning." Luo Binghe himself had cleaned up very nicely, Liu Qingge thought despite himself, clad in fine robes of silk damask in alternating shades of black, grey, and blood red, his cuffs and lapels embroidered in white and red swirls. His curls had been tamed into a high ponytail, admittedly to Liu Qingge's dismay. He liked Luo Binghe's hair loose and free, wafting the scent of his hair oils about as he moved. Still, the more conventional style looked dignified and Liu Qingge couldn't help but wonder if Luo Binghe wore his hair like this at court in the demon realm.

Clearing his throat, Liu Qingge waved a hand dismissively. "I don't think I wear such ornate stuff very well but thank you anyway." Certainly not like Luo Binghe himself with his royal bearing.

Luo Binghe shook his head with an expression of fond exasperation as he stepped closer. "You truly have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?" His voice was low, holding a hint of roughness that made Liu Qingge's heart stutter the slightest bit. Luo Binghe reached out to run his fingers through Liu Qingge’s loose hair where it draped over his shoulder, brushing it back gently. “You should wear your hair like this more often.” He leaned in until he was very much in Liu Qingge’s personal space, lips near Liu Qingge’s ear. “Makes me want to wrap my fingers in it and pull until you moan.”

Liu Qingge was rooted to the spot, knees trembling. His mouth was suddenly dry. He found himself at a loss for words, which ended up not mattering because Shen Qingqiu drifted closer and scolded his husband, “Binghe, behave yourself. We aren’t alone out here.” He lightly smacked the demon lord’s shoulder with his folded fan.

Luo Binghe chuckled and quickly pressed a kiss to Liu Qingge’s cheek before stepping away. “Quite right, I’ll try to restrain myself.” His eyes danced in a mixture of amusement and mischief.

Liu Qingge fiddled with his sleeves, biting his lip as he tried to hide how flustered he was. He cleared his throat and gestured in the direction of the outer courtyard. "Shall we? Everyone else will be making their way to the grove." Indeed, he could just see a pair of figures he identified as his grandparents walking through the outer gate ahead.

Shen Qingqiu inclined his head elegantly. "Lead the way, Shidi."

The three of them headed out after the elder Liu's. Just beyond the manor's gate, at the edge of the woods to the north of the road, sat a stone lantern marking the beginning of a path winding away into the trees, its top covered in a layer of moss. The lantern's flame flickered in the growing darkness as if beckoning them. Liu Qingge strode past it without hesitation, despite not having walked this way in many years. He could hear Shen Qingqiu falling in behind him and Luo Binghe taking up the rear, ever watchful despite the fact that these woods were about as safe as could be.

The path meandered between massive ancient trees, up and down small hills, and around giant boulders. The entire way, more stone lanterns just like the first lit the way, their light casting amber pools on the loamy ground. The rustle of small creatures could be heard in the underbrush just beyond the line of sight and the occasional hooting of an owl stirred the gentle quiet of the woods. Overhead, the sky was black and branches creaked softly in the breeze. If one looked hard enough through the forest canopy, the distant shine of stars was visible. None of them spoke, senses attuned to the environment around them. Liu Qingge, for his part, was savoring the outing into nature. He had grown up in these woods, after all, and they felt as homey to him as the manor itself.

Finally, the path crested a steeper hill than any they had climbed previously. Beyond, it opened into a sizable clearing and came to an end. In this clearing sat a clump of some twenty willows situated around a small pond. This was the Golden Grove, so named because these willows weren't just ordinary willows.

The golden willows were towering and wide, their delicate branches trailing and pooling on the soft grass of the clearing, glowing softly in the early night and reflecting on the pond's mirror-still surface. Their golden cast provided enough light to see by in the clearing, not enough to read a scroll but enough to walk around, see other people, and eat at the long banquet table that had been set up next to the edge of the pond. Clumps of night-blooming flowers dotted the grove, filling the air with their perfume, sustained despite the late season by the plentiful spiritual energy in the area. Liu Qingge paused at the end of the trail, taking in the sight. Shen Qingqiu stopped beside him, gasping.

"Oh! So beautiful!" he breathed. His expression reflected awe and wonder when Liu Qingge glanced over at him, his mouth hanging partially open and his folded fan pressed to his chin as he looked around in interest.

Luo Binghe appeared at Liu Qingge's other side. "Pretty amazing," he commented quietly, gaze glued to the trees. His arms were crossed over his chest. Liu Qingge wondered if he was thinking about family and lineage. Liu Qingge hummed in agreement, shuffling closer to Binghe to gently bump his shoulder. After a moment, the demon lord sighed so softly Liu Qingge nearly missed it, letting his arms fall to his sides. His long fingers threaded through Liu Qingge's and squeezed in silent thanks.

"Golden willows are so rare and yet you have a whole colony of them here!" Shen Qingqiu was exclaiming, gesturing enthusiastically with his fan. "How extraordinary! Are the tales true? Do they have their own spiritual energy? Are they connected to the spirit world?"

Luo Binghe huffed a soft laugh. Liu Qingge smiled and motioned toward the willows. "Why don't you find out for yourself?" he suggested lightly. "You're welcome to explore and commune with the trees."

Shen Qingqiu looked as though he would vibrate into another dimension in his excitement and eagerness. "Oh! I'd love to. Thank you, Shidi." He came over to press a quick kiss to first Liu Qingge's cheek and then to Luo Binghe's before darting off down the rise into the clearing, making a beeline for the nearest willow. The War God and the demon lord watched him in silence; Liu Qingge felt incredibly fond at the man's almost childlike antics and had little doubt Luo Binghe felt the same way.

"So is it true?" Luo Binghe asked after several long moments of quiet. He was still holding Liu Qingge's hand. "Can the trees connect to the spirit realm?"

"They can," Liu Qingge confirmed. "These trees are ancient and probably pre-date the founding of my clan by several decades if not longer. We've lived in this forest for centuries. To my knowledge, this grove has always been here. Once our earliest ancestors learned that the dead could move between the worlds through these trees or speak through them, this became a sacred place."

"I see," Luo Binghe murmured. "So dining with the ancestors is much more literal than I first imagined."

Liu Qingge chuckled. "Yes. They're alive here, in this grove, thanks to these trees. In this place, their spirits are eternal."

"Much rarer than lighting some incense at a tomb, I daresay," Luo Binghe said, sounding both wistful and amazed.

"We do have the shrine at the manor," Liu Qingge said, somewhat embarrassed. "But those are just tablets and a place to make offerings. Every clan member whose body has been recovered has been cremated and their ashes buried in this grove. So coming here to honor them is essentially our version of sweeping and burning incense at a tomb."

Luo Binghe hummed thoughtfully. After a beat of silence, he asked, "I suppose Shishu expects to be laid to rest here someday as well if circumstances deem it so?"

"Yes." Liu Qingge's voice was soft as he looked out at the glowing willows and his relatives milling about, the pond mirroring the surroundings. "All immortality aside, I've always known I could die of a sickness or an injury someday. Or a curse," he added wryly. Cultivators might be able to obtain immortality but they could still die in any number of ways. They weren't invincible and Liu Qingge had known this from a young age. The remark made Luo Binghe squeeze his hand a little tighter. "It's always been a given that I would join my clan here if such were the case, that my ashes would be buried here with everyone else. Nothing else has ever crossed my mind when I think about my death."

"Seems peaceful, honestly." Luo Binghe still sounded a bit pensive.

"I remember coming here as a boy and playing hide and seek with Jinhai among the trees." Liu Qingge smiled as he thought back. "Sometimes we could sense that some spirit child was playing with us. There's peace here but also playfulness and joy. It's not purely a place of mourning."

"I've yet to encounter such complicated rituals surrounding death and mourning and ancestor veneration in the demon realm," Luo Binghe murmured. "My father is still among the living and I have no idea where my mother was laid to rest, let alone any knowledge of who came before either of them. If I'm being honest, Shishu, I'm a little jealous you have such a place and such deep connections with your clan."

It seemed Liu Qingge's instinct had been correct about where Binghe's thoughts were. "That's understandable," he said quietly. "My clan helped to shape me into who I am. It must be incredibly hard not to know where you come from and from whom." He paused, chewing on his words for a long moment before adding, "I'm sorry, Binghe," for lack of anything else adequate to say.

A beat of quiet hung between them, then Luo Binghe let out a soft breath. "It's alright. It's not your fault, Shishu." He then nudged Liu Qingge's shoulder with his own and swung their joined hands a little. "Shall we go down and join the others?"

Liu Qingge nodded in agreement and they set off down the hill in the direction Shen Qingqiu had gone, though Qing Jing's lord had long since disappeared among the willows. They fielded greetings from various members of the family as they entered the grove proper. Suddenly, everything was bathed in that soft golden light, gentler than the first streaks of dawn. Liu Qingge had forgotten how magical the grove could be and he took a moment to pause and breathe it all in, closing his eyes briefly and committing the moment to memory. His only regret was that his blocked cultivation prevented him from feeling the swirling energies of the place, and kept him from properly greeting the trees and his ancestors, alike. Beside him, Luo Binghe sucked in a sharp breath as he looked around, eyes wide.

"Here," Liu Qingge murmured, nudging Luo Binghe toward the nearest tree. "Try out the spiritual energies for yourself." They pushed through the draping branches of the willow, the leaves slipping between the fingers of their free hands smoothly like silk, the qi in them leaving a trail of warmth behind. The branches closed again behind them with a whisper, creating a cocoon of molten light and soft shadows, the sounds from outside muffled. Liu Qingge led Luo Binghe straight to the willow's massive trunk. "All you have to do is touch the bark and open your mind."

Luo Binghe hesitated, shooting Liu Qingge an uncertain glance. "But I'm not a clan member. Are you sure this is alright?"

Liu Qingge huffed even as a corner of his mouth quirked up in amusement. "I can guarantee your husband has laid hands on several of these trees by now and has probably been trying to determine if each tree has the same strength of energy and connection to the spirit world." He paused and continued in a gentler tone. "If he's allowed, you are too. This grove may be a sacred place for us, but we don't own these trees and their power. They belong to no one and everyone. In theory, anyone could come here and commune with their ancestors."

Luo Binghe's eyes were round with surprise. "Have you ever had spirits that aren't from the clan use the grove as a gateway?"

"We haven't, as long as we've been here. We think it probably happened frequently before the clan officially settled in this area and imprinted our energy so heavily across the forest." Liu Qingge shrugged. "But there's nothing to say it's impossible."

"Okay." Luo Binghe's reply was quiet. He stepped closer to the willow's trunk, still clutching Liu Qingge's hand, and reached out to lay his palm flat against the craggy bark. Immediately, bright gold outlined his hand and fanned away in indecipherable lines and squiggles. Luo Binghe jumped the tiniest bit, his grip on Liu Qingge turning momentarily crushing before relaxing again.

"That's normal," Liu Qingge murmured. "In a moment, the bark will pulsate with your heartbeat as the tree connects with your qi."

Sure enough, the golden etchings across the trunk began to rhythmically glow brighter and then fade, then brighten again, over and over, and Liu Qingge watched as Luo Binghe's eyes slid shut and his breathing evened, giving himself up to the experience at hand. Whatever Luo Binghe might have been afraid of seeing in the spirit realm, he was wholly engrossed in it now.

Liu Qingge stood quietly for an unknown length of time, holding Luo Binghe's hand and waiting patiently. His own breathing had slowed and his eyes had grown heavy as he settled toward a meditative state. The grove's energy was calming and soothing and he was nearly helpless to resist it, even if he couldn't cultivate with it. Finally, a light tug at his hand disrupted his stillness and Liu Qingge roused himself to find Luo Binghe coming back to himself as well, pulling his hand away from the bark.

"How was it?" Liu Qingge asked softly, loathe to disturb the moment.

Luo Binghe cleared his throat and blinked rapidly a few times as if he were trying to clear away a lingering image from his retinas. "There was a lot of darkness and murmuring voices that I couldn't quite understand. I saw a brief glimpse of a woman dressed in gold. I didn't get a good look at her and didn't speak to her but…I can't be certain but I think she might have been my mother." His voice trailed off quietly, his brows furrowing. “I just had that feeling.” He glanced up at Liu Qingge questioningly, as if seeking affirmation.

Liu Qingge stepped close and reached out to rub his thumb over the crease in Binghe's forehead. "We can come back here and you can try to look for her again if you'd like."

"Maybe." Luo Binghe's tone was uncertain. Liu Qingge wondered at that, wondered if the younger man was afraid his mother's spirit wouldn't know him or would reject him, or something similar. He knew Luo Binghe feared rejection second only to abandonment. When Binghe spoke again, his tone had evened out and he sounded more like his usual self. "The energy here is truly remarkable, Shishu. Thank you for this."

Liu Qingge scoffed softly as he gave Binghe’s hand a squeeze. "No need to thank me. Let's go find your wayward Shizun. Seating for dinner should begin soon."

They found Shen Qingqiu talking with Mu Qingfang about the potential medicinal properties of the golden willows' bark and leaves. They were each sipping on a cup of tea; a pair of servants was flitting about among the guests with trays of beverages. Liu Qingge snatched a teacup from one tray as Luo Binghe sought out wine from the other waiter and then they joined the other peak lords.

“The leaves and bark could be distilled down and made into pills that could help supplement cultivation,” Mu Qingfang was musing as Liu Qingge sidled up beside him, sipping on his tea, a smooth green variety with a hint of toasted rice. “I imagine such pills could also aid in recovery from illnesses and injuries, potentially cutting the time required in half.” He paused and glanced at Liu Qingge. “Or it could help with treating curses. But I would never presume to damage such sacred trees.”

Liu Qingge raised his brows as he swallowed his tea. “Just ask my parents about it, if you’d like.”

“Hmm, you don’t think that would be presumptuous?” Mu Qingfang’s brows were furrowed and he stroked his chin thoughtfully.

Liu Qingge shrugged. “They’d be happy to help the sect.”

Mu Qingfang nodded, lips pursed. Before he could say anything else, the call to be seated for dinner rang out. Everyone migrated toward the long table near the water’s edge, set with twice as many chairs and place settings as there were living guests present. Every other place setting would be reserved for an ancestor, set with silver dishes rather than the typical gold and bronze. All of the utensils and vessels gleamed in the light of the myriad candles and lanterns that dotted the tabletop; the table runner was deep green embroidered in a golden willow pattern. Nearby, a pair of musicians took up a gentle tune on the pipa and erhu. The staff of Willow Manor had obviously worked hard to bring all of it together into this beautiful showing.

“Wow,” Shen Qingqiu murmured appreciatively at the sight. “This is lovely.”

“Mm,” Liu Qingge agreed. “However, regrettably, I won’t be able to sit with you and Binghe.”

Shen Qingqiu smiled gently. “It’s alright, we won’t be far away.” He pressed a kiss to Liu Qingge’s cheek. After Luo Binghe had done the same, the two of them were directed by an amiable servant to seats toward the far end of the table, where Mu Qingfang was already settling himself in a chair.

Liu Qingge took his seat just to his father’s right, in the place traditionally held by the clan heir; Liu Yichen, of course, was at the head of the table. Chen Mingzhu sat directly across from her son, her daughter, sister-in-law, and mother-in-law all to her left. Just down from Liu Qingge, his uncle, cousin, and grandfather were lined up according to order of internal authority. As an honorary clan member, Yang Yixuan had been seated between Liu Qingge’s grandfather and the unrelated guests. A cluster of servants bearing the first course of the meal stood nearby, waiting for the traditional opening statement from the clan leader before beginning to serve the food.

Liu Yichen waited until everyone was seated before raising his wine glass and speaking. “To all the ancestors who may be listening, we welcome you to our table tonight. Join your descendants and bestow your favor upon us, if it pleases you. To everyone else, may fortune be our friend on this night and every night henceforth. Let us feast!”

A chorus of agreement filled the air and everyone drank from their cups. Before Liu Qingge had even finished draining his tea, a servant was at his elbow with a teapot, ready to refill his cup. Immediately after her came someone else with a bowl of soup and a plate of dumplings. As the clan heir, he would be served second, after his father, all night. It wasn’t considered rude for him to begin eating as soon as he received the food but he still hesitated, waiting until both the empty ancestral setting next to him and his uncle beyond that had been served before reaching for his spoon. Moments later, the empty seat became occupied by the ghost of a young man who looked to be several years younger than Liu Qingge himself, dressed in robes that had long been out of fashion, obvious even to someone as inept on the topic as Liu Qingge himself was. The young man’s form started out misty and transparent and slowly became more opaque and firm as he drew energy from the offerings left on the plate before him. Liu Qingge wondered idly who exactly this ghost was, and where he fell into the family line. A glance around showed that all the other empty chairs were being filled in a similar fashion.

After the soup and dumplings came roasted pheasant and stir-fried sweet potatoes. Liu Qingge ate quietly, listening to the various conversations taking place up and down the length of the table. He was pleased to note that Yang Yixuan and Luo Binghe were engaged in discourse over the merits of different types of bladed weapons. With any luck, the two of them would be as friendly as they’d ever been within a couple of days. By the time plates of delicate mooncakes and bowls of osmanthus jelly were brought out, Liu Qingge had just about had enough food to last him the next two days and he was growing lethargic. The relaxed atmosphere and gentle lighting combined to further drain his usual alertness. He sat back in his chair and let his eyes slide closed momentarily. So the whisper of an ancient voice from just beside his ear was doubly startling.

“They are coming.”

Liu Qingge’s eyes flew open to see the ghost in the chair beside him fading rapidly into nothingness. He didn’t have time to even think of questioning the chilling warning before the spirit was gone and a hellish howling filled the clearing. A moment later, the music abruptly stopped and servants screamed as a small horde of what must have been a few dozen demons came charging out of the forest to the east, bearing down on the banquet table. They were seemingly low-level foot soldier types, on their own non-threatening to cultivators of high caliber, but more troublesome in large groups like this one. They displayed no identifiable crests or clan colors and wore matte black armor over plain tunics and trousers of the same color. They brandished swords and pikes, their expressions feral and eyes wild, almost as if they were in the grips of madness. Liu Qingge had seen that look on Luo Binghe’s face one too many times to ever forget it. The aura of demonic qi they brought into the grove with them was thick and oppressive. Liu Qingge felt it immediately, settling down on him heavily.

Liu Yichen had shot to his feet, his sword already drawn. “Weapons out!” he yelled. “To higher ground!”

A ringing of swords leaving scabbards resounded all around the table as everyone rose, shoving chairs back and to the side. Liu Qingge drew Cheng Luan swiftly and leaped lightly onto the table in between his father and uncle, all his lethargy long forgotten at the looming prospect of a fight. The how's and why's of the situation could be answered later.

The demons closed rapidly, hollering and yowling like nothing Liu Qingge had ever heard before. They were practically foaming at the mouth. Something was off about it; only mindless beasts were ever this feral. Liu Qingge didn't have a chance to ponder for long before he was crossing blades with one of the demons. The impact of Cheng Luan meeting the demon's sword sent tingles up Liu Qingge's arm with its forcefulness. He grunted, grit his teeth, and leaned into it. The weapons ground together while the demon hissed and snarled, teeth snapping at Liu Qingge's face. It made him want to jerk back and away but he forced himself not to, staying steady in the face of this strangeness. All around, the clanging of steel rang out as the other dinner guests met the horde with force.

Liu Qingge broke the deadlock with the demon, letting Cheng Luan slide off as he sidestepped. Twisting his wrist, he brought his sword around for a quick slash underneath the demon's guard, raking Cheng Luan's cutting edge across his gut. Liu Qingge gave the demon a shove and it fell back, emitting a howl of misery that lifted the hairs on the back of Liu Qingge's neck. A moment later, another took its place, swiping for Liu Qingge's knees. He nimbly leapt above the sweeping blade and swung for the demon's neck. With his cultivation, he would have been able to lop off the creature's head in one swift movement but without it, Cheng Luan buried itself deeply and then proceeded to become stuck. Blood sprayed across Liu Qingge's cheek in a hot splash and he squeezed his eyes shut to protect them, yanking on his sword to free it. As he struggled with the weapon, he realized yet another demon was charging toward him, sword raised above its head and lips curled back in a snarl.

"Fuck!" Liu Qingge yanked harder on Cheng Luan as the approaching demon closed the gap rapidly. Just as his sword came free with a great tug that set him back on his heels, a figure dove in front of him, meeting the advancing demon's attack with a deflecting blade. Liu Qingge stumbled back a step, startled, realizing his defender was none other than Yang Yixuan.

"Stay back, Shizun!" The young man yelled over his shoulder, effortlessly parrying the demon's blade away and swiftly taking advantage of the resulting opening to run the creature through.

Liu Qingge took a quick glance around and realized the orderly line of cultivators on either side of him had devolved into chaos. His parents were fighting back to back nearby. Liu Jinhai was dancing nimbly along the very edge of the table, taunting the demons with his proximity before leaping overhead and bisecting them across the spine. Further down, Liu Qingge could see that Luo Binghe, Shen Qingqiu, and Mu Qingfang had formed an efficient trio; the bright glare of Xiu Ya whipped through the air, skewering demons effortlessly, while Shen Qingqiu used his battle fan to sweep groups of them away with a blast of qi whenever they got a little too close. His simultaneous control of both weapons was satisfying to see and Liu Qingge felt a stab of pride at the brief glimpse he had before turning back to his immediate vicinity just in time to see two demons closing in on his disciple.

Liu Qingge sprang forward to intercept one of the attackers as Yang Yixuan engaged the other one. The young man batted the demon's blade aside and planted a solid kick in the center of its chest. A crunch resounded as bone collapsed and the demon squawked in outrage. When it fell back, it grabbed wildly with its free hand at Yang Yixuan's robes. Liu Qingge saw this out of the corner of his eye as he sank Cheng Luan's blade directly through the heart of his own foe. He didn't have a chance to warn his disciple before the young man was yanked along with the falling demon and they both tumbled off the table and toward the ground.

Liu Qingge leaped down after them unhesitatingly, Cheng Luan raised to put a swift end to the demon. He needn't have worried; Yang Yixuan had landed on top of the demon in such a way that Jia Xue had pierced its heart. Unfortunately, he'd also fallen on his opponent's blade in a mirrored action of the demon's demise. Blood was blooming across Yang Yixuan's back. Liu Qingge felt the press of panic in his throat as he dropped to his knees beside his disciple.

"Yixuan!" Liu Qingge dropped Cheng Luan and reached out with shaking hands. "Yixuan!"

A raspy voice answered him. "It's just my shoulder, Shizun. I'll be fine."

"Just your…" Liu Qingge choked in a mixture of disbelief and relief. Now that he was looking for it, he could see the very tip of the demon's sword protruding from Yang Yixuan's shoulder. Such a wound was no laughing matter but with his cultivation, it wouldn't be fatal. "C'mon, let's get you up."

Yang Yixuan allowed himself to be slowly maneuvered up and off the blade. He barely made a sound though the pain had to be immense. A small grunt and a bitten lip were the most obvious signs. His chest heaved and his temples were beaded in sweat by the time he was sitting upright but he still offered his shizun a small breathless smile in reassurance.

Liu Qingge applied pressure to the wound with his bare hands, his breath coming nearly as quick as Yang Yixuan's. Tears pricked his eyes and his voice shook when he spoke. "What have I told you about not letting opponents grab your clothing?"

Yang Yixuan huffed a weak laugh. "I'll remember it next time." He coughed, wincing, and then glanced at Liu Qingge, brows furrowed. "You don't look so good, Shizun. Are you alright?"

"You don't need to ask me that when you're the one who's been injured," Liu Qingge scolded, but his hands were shaking and it was harder and harder to catch his breath. Cold sweat slicked his spine. His meridians burned.

What was happening?

Liu Qingge couldn't keep his eyes open. He heard his disciple's voice calling his name but he couldn't respond. The last thing he saw before he slipped into unconsciousness was Luo Binghe's face coming into view, the crest on his forehead glowing brightly crimson and eyes aflame.

Chapter 29

Notes:

Hello all! Back again...I can say we are drawing very close to the end of the story now. There will be maybe one to three more chapters? But I have good news for those of you who would like to stay with these versions of these characters for a while longer- I have a sequel planned! So please stay tuned for that after this fic ends!

As always, thank you so much for all the support and readership and I hope to see you in the comments ❤️

When Liu Qingge came to, his mouth was dry as the Western Desert, his head ached, and every inch of his spiritual veins hummed with a muted burning sensation. He immediately wanted to go back to sleep but he was lying on a hard surface and the discomfort was enough to keep him in an unwelcome state of awareness.

Blessedly, the air was cool. He could smell the faint fragrance of night-blooming flowers; that must mean he was still in the grove. His brain sluggishly made the connection that whatever he was lying on must be the banquet table. A gentle thrum of qi was circulating through his meridians, soothing the pain there. He followed the energy meanderingly to its source; someone's fingers were lightly clasped around his wrist as they fed him their spiritual energy. He was silently grateful for their efforts.

He must not have been out for very long. Voices reached his ears from nearby: his parents, his cousin and sister, Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe, all sounding varying degrees of upset and angry.

"Jinhai, Mingyan, how could you keep this from us? You didn't think it was important for us to know Luo Binghe was the one who tried to kill Qingge?!" Liu Yichen's voice was harsh and ragged.

Liu Qingge's brows furrowed the slightest bit. He wanted to tell his father not to blame his sister and cousin; he was the one who asked everyone to keep Binghe's identity secret, after all. If his father needed to yell at someone, he should yell at Liu Qingge.

"It wasn't my place to air Qingge's personal business!" Jinhai retorted loudly. Liu Qingge wanted to pat his cousin on the shoulder in thanks. "Especially when Lord Luo was posing no threat. Qingge's a grown man, he can decide what information other people are entitled to know!"

"He's still my son and it's still my duty to do what I can to protect him!" Liu Qingge could well imagine his father fairly snorting in rage at the situation but he could detect a shakiness underneath the bluster that stabbed at his heart. Liu Yichen was a man who defined himself through what roles he played and the services he offered other people; no matter how old Liu Qingge was, his father would consider his son's well-being part of his life's mandate. It was the best way he knew how to show love and care. And recently that foundation had been shaken by Deng Rouhuan's antics and schemes. Liu Qingge thought with a flash of sudden clarity that he understood this about his father because he himself was much the same, and thought of Yang Yixuan in the same way. More than anything, Liu Yichen was frightened and feeling inadequate in the tasks he'd set for himself when it came to his family's safety.

"Please, Yichen, calm down," Chen Mingzhu was murmuring, though her voice trembled too.

"I trusted Qingge to decide what and when to tell you," Mingyan said then, her tone unwavering and unapologetic. "He was upset with me for talking to you about Master Shen without his permission. I certainly wasn't going to break his trust again."

"I can assure you there was no wish to actively deceive anyone." There was Shen Qingqiu, sounding somewhat more tense than angry.

"Please, sir, accept my humblest apologies for this situation." Luo Binghe there, his voice wavering in what Liu Qingge could tell was genuine remorse and shame. There was a rustle of clothing and Chen Mingzhu let out a small surprised sound.

Liu Qingge cracked his eyes open. Mu Qingfang was leaning on the edge of the table beside him; he must be the one funneling him qi. The doctor's hair was wild and mussed and there was a streak of blood across his cheek. Liu Qingge shifted slightly and worked his jaw, trying to wet his dry mouth. The commotion caught Mu Qingfang's attention.

"Don't move too much yet," he cautioned in a quiet voice, dark eyes flicking over his friend's form critically.

Liu Qingge nodded but still parted his parched lips to croak out a question. "What's going on over there?" His voice sounded like gravel.

Mu Qingfang glanced away, toward where the others must have been gathered. "Luo Binghe is currently kowtowing to your parents in the dirt with apparently nary a thought for anything but making amends."

That would explain his mother's reaction, Liu Qingge thought wryly. He wished he could catch a glimpse of the demon realm's ruler willingly humbling himself in such a manner. Certainly, it was a rare sight.

Liu Qingge thought back to the last image he'd seen before he'd passed out: Luo Binghe's flaming red eyes and brightly glowing forehead marking. "So the secret is out," he mumbled. So much for his decision to tell his parents everything before he returned to the sect.

"Oh, it's very exposed," Mu Qingfang agreed quietly, his lips quirking in a faint smile that really wasn't very amused at all. "It seemed as though all the demonic qi and curse energy in the air forced Lord Luo's true nature to the forefront after being carefully hidden for so long."

"Curse energy?" Liu Qingge's brows furrowed again.

"All the attacking demons were wearing slave cuffs like the one Deng Rouhuan used on you," Mu Qingfang explained gravely.

"Are they…?"

"All dead," Mu Qingfang confirmed. "Luo Binghe slew the last of them himself just as you were passing out. Nothing could stop him from coming to your side. He was there to catch you when you fell. He said he could feel your curse spiking. It seems your curse reacted to all the energy those demons brought with them embedded in their own cuffs."

Liu Qingge's heart flip-flopped. If he'd felt more lively, he knew he'd be blushing at the thought that Luo Binghe had caught him in his arms like some kind of shining warrior saving a damsel in distress.

"It seems that the curse has been strengthening over the last few days anyway," Mu Qingfang said then, frowning deeply. "The medicines I gave you aren't working as effectively as I'd anticipated."

"Is that why I've been so sleepy?" Liu Qingge asked.

"Unfortunately, yes," Mu Qingfang replied. "I know it's not what you want to hear but you might have to consider taking the cure sooner than you thought."

Liu Qingge grunted in acknowledgment. He found he wasn't all that surprised. Some corner of his mind had always been expecting such to be the case. Why would anything ever go easily for him?

"How am I supposed to trust that you aren't behind this whole thing?" Liu Yichen was demanding now. Silence fell between Liu Qingge and Mu Qingfang as they both listened and in Mu Qingfang's case, watched.

There was a thump which Liu Qingge could only assume was Luo Binghe smacking his forehead to the ground. When he spoke, his voice was somewhat muffled but there was no hesitation in his words. "I did not do this. I would never scheme to put my husband or Qingge in harm's way for any reason. Please believe me when I say that I love your son. Yes, we have a history but I truly and deeply love him and never wish to hurt him again."

Liu Qingge's heart thudded hard. Of course, Binghe had told him already that he loved him but to hear it declared so openly and unequivocally was something else entirely. There was a press of emotion in his throat he couldn't quite name.

Luo Binghe wasn't finished. "I fully intend to investigate this matter and trace the origin of these slave cuffs. I outlawed slavery in the demon realm nearly a year ago."

"Hmph." Liu Yichen didn't sound entirely convinced but Liu Qingge could tell his father wanted to believe Binghe. There was a pause during which Liu Qingge could practically taste the tension. He supposed his father was weighing the benefits of kicking Luo Binghe out of the manor and off clan lands. Ultimately, his care and concern for his son won out. "You would do well to keep your word on this," he said finally. "And if you love my son as much as you claim to, swear to me you will do everything in your power to keep him safe and healthy."

"I will, I swear to you," came Luo Binghe's hurried response. "I swear upon all my ancestors." Even if he didn't know their names, he was willing to invoke them regardless.

Liu Qingge began to prop himself up on an elbow. "Can I get up now?"

Mu Qingfang clicked his tongue chastisingly but only nodded in agreement, removing his fingers from his patient's wrist and moving to help Liu Qingge upright, shifting Cheng Luan so it rested across Liu Qingge’s thighs. Liu Qingge realized the sword had been returned to its scabbard, still secured around his waist. His head throbbed and his vision swam. He wondered if he was about to pass out again. He found himself clutching at Mu Qingfang's forearm for stability as he rode out the discomfort.

"Deep breaths, Qingge," the doctor coached in a low soothing tone. "You're doing fine."

Several moments passed during which Liu Qingge sucked in breaths until the pain subsided. It left him trembling in its wake. "What the fuck?" he muttered under his breath.

"The curse is stronger," Mu Qingfang reminded him apologetically.

Liu Qingge huffed in annoyance. "Right." He paused, thinking back to the demon attack, trying to remember the last things that had happened before he'd lost consciousness. The memory of Luo Binghe's scarlet eyes overwhelmed nearly everything else. He straightened suddenly in a combination of dismay and distress, looking at Mu Qingfang. "Where's my disciple? Where's Yixuan?"

"He was already taken back to the manor. I treated his wound here as best I could but he needed to see the healers who had the appropriate tools for the situation. The other clan members went back with him."

"How is he?" Liu Qingge asked anxiously.

"He'll be fine," Mu Qingfang assured, squeezing Liu Qingge's shoulder gently. "His cultivation will speed his recovery right along. You shouldn't distress yourself over it. It won't do you any favors."

Liu Qingge heaved a breath, nodding, swamped in relief that his disciple wasn't in mortal danger. At the same time, his anxiety over his own condition spiked. With every passing moment, it felt as though everything was slipping further and further out of his control. Luo Binghe's identity had been exposed. His curse was gaining intensity. His disciple had been injured protecting him. What kind of master did that make him?

Mu Qingfang could see him spiraling and gripped his shoulder harder, giving a little shake. "Don't do that. Don't blame yourself. None of this was your fault, Qingge. Yang Yixuan was the only injury and he'll be alright. You need to focus on yourself now."

"How can I do that when everything is such a mess?" Liu Qingge hated the way his voice shook. He could hear the plaintive note in it himself. This was easily the lowest his mood had been in days.

Mu Qingfang eased his grip and patted Liu Qingge's shoulder reassuringly. "As your doctor, I'm advising you to go to bed and get some sleep. Things won't seem so bleak tomorrow." He paused and glanced up and over to where the others were still gathered in an uneasy clump. "Everyone! If you're quite finished squabbling, come over here." His tone was sharp as if he thought they were all silly for their confrontation.

The interruption broke up the tension successfully. Everyone turned to look. All their faces reflected hopeful relief when they saw that Liu Qingge was awake and moving.

"Qingge!" Chen Mingzhu gasped, releasing her husband's arm and rushing in her son's direction. A heartbeat later, Liu Yichen jolted out of his shocked stupor, stumbling after his wife.

"Shishu!" Luo Binghe exclaimed, scrambling to his feet and launching himself after Yichen and Mingzhu. Shen Qingqiu, Liu Mingyan, and Liu Jinhai followed hastily in his wake. Within moments, Liu Qingge was surrounded by all of them, expressions ranging from concern to relief to anxiousness.

Liu Qingge allowed his mother to gather him in her arms, clutching him securely. He could feel her trembling. He sighed softly and let his eyes slide closed, taking solace in her presence. Mu Qingfang was busy explaining Liu Qingge's condition, the precarious state of the curse, and his need for rest.

"Certainly, his father and I can watch over him while he rests," Chen Mingzhu was insisting, one hand stroking her son's hair where it still hung down his back, now hopelessly tangled after all the earlier commotion. It was impossible to miss the protective tone in her voice. No one dared say a word against her.

Liu Qingge made a small noise of protest when his mother stepped back, immediately missing her warmth and stability. Chen Mingzhu let out a breath, caught somewhere between distress and amusement. She began to guide him to his feet with gentle but steady hands. "Come on, baby. Time to get you home." She carefully straightened his sword belt until Cheng Luan hung correctly at his hip once more.

Liu Yichen came up on his son's other side, taking his elbow in a strong, sword-calloused hand as they began to make their way across the grove toward the trail through the woods. Behind them, Mu Qingfang began lecturing the others left behind, about precisely what Liu Qingge couldn't guess, but his friend's voice sounded steely, even if it was pitched just low enough that his words were not easily deciphered.

"Where would you like to sleep? Where would you feel most comfortable?" Chen Mingzhu was asking solicitously and Liu Qingge brought his attention to the matter at hand.

The guest room had been home for a while now but it still felt unfamiliar, though it now held some pleasant memories. He also didn't wish to impose on his parents as he had in the days immediately after Deng Rouhuan's attack. His own room seemed most appealing, where he knew the shapes and outlines of everything, where the smell of his scrolls and incense and sword oils hung in the air permanently. He found he truly wanted to go home, to fully claim his own space once again.

"I want to go back to my room," Liu Qingge murmured.

His parents seemed to pause and exchange a surprised look between them before Yichen replied, "If you're certain, then that's fine."

"I am," Liu Qingge said firmly.

Liu Qingge had to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other as they walked back, the ground seeming to tilt and rock under his feet. Consequently, he both missed the forest slipping by in all its murky wonders and thought the journey would never end. Finally, the trail widened and then they were on the main road and approaching the front gate of the manor. Liu Qingge blinked owlishly in the light from the torches burning in their sconces along the wall, seemingly so bright after the comparative darkness among the trees. It made his eyes hurt. Thankfully, it was dimmer inside the walls. He let his parents steer him through the courtyards, past the ancestral tree, and toward his room. It wasn’t long before he was being guided up the steps and through the door. He stood quietly while his father lit the lanterns in his bedroom with a snap of his fingers and a burst of qi. Liu Yichen then turned back to his son, expression solemn.

“May I take your weapon to put it away?”

It was only respectful and considerate to inquire in such a way before snatching someone’s spiritual weapon, even if two people were friends or related. Liu Qingge nodded and fumbled at his waist to unbuckle Cheng Luan. His hands shook so badly that it took twice as long as it should have. Yichen took the sword without a word and stepped away to place it carefully on the nearby sword rack as Chen Mingzhu moved in to assist Liu Qingge in getting out of his layers of robes. One by one, the ornate silk came off, folded and set aside, until he was down to his innermost robe of smooth pure white silk. His hair ornaments came off next, gently untangled by Chen Mingzhu’s nimble fingers. Through it all, Liu Qingge stood quietly, focused on simply staying upright as the world continued to shift and sway around him.

Chen Mingzhu hummed as she combed her fingers through her son’s loose tresses, freeing the worst of the tangles. “Are you ready to lie down? Or do you need anything first?”

Liu Qingge worked his jaw for a moment before murmuring, “Some water. Please.”

“I’ll get a pitcher for you.” Liu Yichen had turned the covers on the bed back; he smoothed them one final time before heading for the door and slipping out into the night.

Liu Qingge allowed his mother to herd him toward his bed. Embarrassingly, his legs gave out on him as he went to sit down and he practically fell into bed. It seemed the curse was beginning to rob him of control of his limbs. The thought was deeply disturbing. It made him want to immediately request Luo Binghe’s presence and ask for the cure. But the weariness nagging at his bones and the pounding in his head told him this wasn’t the time for any vigorous activity. Such thoughts could wait until tomorrow.

Chen Mingzhu made no comment about Liu Qingge’s gracelessness and simply helped him slide under the blankets. She offered a small smile when he’d settled in, smoothing his hair back from his face and dropping a kiss on his forehead. Liu Qingge could see the worry in her eyes despite her smile and it made his heart twist guiltily.

“I’m sorry, Mama,” he murmured, hoping she somehow understood all the meaning behind the words. He was sorry for causing her to worry, sorry for keeping information from her. He was too exhausted to explain in so many words.

Chen Mingzhu’s expression crumpled minutely and her eyes began to well with tears. Still, she smiled and shook her head. “Shh, Qingge, it’s alright. Just get some sleep. Anything that needs to be said can be said later.”

“Mmk,” Liu Qingge agreed easily, sighing as he relaxed into his mattress, eyes sliding closed. His mother was right. Tomorrow’s problems were best left for tomorrow.

+++

Liu Qingge slept, deep and dreamless. He awoke occasionally, usually just long enough to crack his eyes open and request a drink of water. One or both of his parents was always nearby, seated at his bedside or at his table in the front room. Their presence was comforting even if their faces were creased with worry and concern. He wanted to tell them how sorry he was for everything, how much he hated that he’d made them upset, that such a thing had never been his intention. But he never seemed to have the strength to muster the words and the gentleness with which Chen Mingzhu stroked his hair back from his forehead always soothed him back into unconsciousness. Finally, Liu Qingge woke to find Mu Qingfang at his bedside, fingers lightly pressed to his pulse point at his wrist, expression pensive. Liu Qingge blinked the haze from his eyes, feeling like he could finally keep them open for longer than just several moments.

Mu Qingfang undoubtedly felt some sort of shift in his patient’s life force because his head snapped up, eyes unerringly finding Liu Qingge’s face. “Welcome back to the land of the living,” he quipped hoarsely, though his tone was largely humorless.

Liu Qingge huffed weakly through his nose in response, the best he could do at that moment. A few heartbeats passed while he attempted to wet his parched throat enough to speak. His voice creaked with disuse when he finally managed to murmur, “How long have I been sleeping?”

“A couple of days now,” Mu Qingfang answered solemnly. “Your parents have been with you the whole time. I finally forced them to go eat and get some sleep themselves. No one else has been allowed to see you. They’ve been very protective.”

Liu Qingge’s lips quirked crookedly. “Just as you said they would be once they knew about Binghe.”

“Speaking of Lord Luo,” Mu Qingfang went on, “He and Master Shen have been beside themselves worried about you. They’re always hovering about just outside, waiting for news about your condition. The clan collectively decided not to expel them from the manor for your sake, at least for the time being. Yang Yixuan has been by frequently too.”

Liu Qingge let out a relieved breath. “Yixuan is up and moving around, then. That’s good.”

“Yes.” Mu Qingfang nodded smartly. “He’s healing well.”

The information lifted a weight from Liu Qingge’s shoulders. He sighed quietly and closed his eyes again. Silence fell between them for a while, companionable and comfortable. Liu Qingge could vaguely feel Mu Qingfang gently and carefully prodding at his meridians but the touch was so light it didn’t hurt this time. Finally, Mu Qingfang’s qi withdrew along with his fingers from Liu Qingge’s wrist. Liu Qingge’s eyes fluttered open in time to catch his friend’s pinched expression.

“What’s the consensus?” Liu Qingge sighed faintly.

Mu Qingfang schooled his expression and sat up a bit straighter, laying his hands in his lap. “The curse is definitely strengthening. It’s getting harder to find your meridians, almost as if they’re disappearing within the cursed qi.”

Liu Qingge hummed thoughtfully; that must be why the sensations had been so faint. “So…?” He trailed off questioningly.

“It seems the cursed qi is beginning to disintegrate them,” Mu Qingfang said with a wince. “They burned when the curse was fresh because it must have been implanting itself in your meridians and spiritual veins.”

“Take lots of notes for your research collection, Qingfang,” Liu Qingge quipped, trying for a note of lightheartedness amongst all the recent dire developments.

Mu Qingfang responded with a soft snort. “Qingge,” he scolded, tilting his head and shooting the other man a reproachful look.

Liu Qingge sighed. “I guess there’s not much more time to waste in asking for the cure, is there? I hate that my hand is being forced like this,” he admitted quietly.

“I know,” Mu Qingfang commiserated. “It’s not the circumstances I wanted for you but alas, here we are.”

“I would have liked the chance to court Binghe a little longer before taking things this far.”

“Are you afraid it will mean less without that time spent together first?” Mu Qingfang asked gently, in his typical uncannily perceptive manner. His expression was kind and non-judgmental.

Liu Qingge thought about it for several moments. “I think…yes, I have been afraid of that,” he said slowly. The idea of being so vulnerable with Luo Binghe was somewhat daunting in itself despite whatever budding feelings he may have for the demon lord but then the possibility of finding out their dual cultivation hadn’t been as meaningful as he’d hoped, or that he’d found it more impactful than Binghe had…yes, that all made Liu Qingge hesitant, even as he knew taking the cure was inevitable. There was one factor, however, that gave him some comfort. He glanced up at Mu Qingfang, smiling crookedly. “But Binghe did say he loves me.”

Mu Qingfang chuckled. “Well, my friend, then I think you ought to turn off that brain of yours and trust Lord Luo. Be in the moment and enjoy the experience.”

“Solid advice,” Liu Qingge admitted wryly.

“Would you like to see Lord Luo and Master Shen?” Mu Qingfang asked then. “I know they’re likely right outside.”

“I’d like that,” Liu Qingge replied immediately. His cheeks flushed at his own eagerness.

Mu Qingfang smiled and stood, flicking his long sleeves as he did so. “I’ll let them know they’re wanted.”

Liu Qingge watched his friend slip out of the room and then carefully levered himself upright into a sitting position, He quickly pulled his hair over his shoulder and combed his fingers through it in a bid to tame its tangles. Surely it looked a fright after his long sleep. He was still fiddling with it when the door slid open and Shen Qingqiu hurried through it, followed swiftly by Luo Binghe, who closed the door behind him. Qing Jing’s lord rushed straight for Liu Qingge’s bed, clutching his folded fan tightly. His expression reflected relief and tension and worry, his green eyes red-rimmed.

“Qingge,” he gasped, drawing close and sitting down on the edge of the mattress, reaching for Liu Qingge’s hand. The fan fell into his lap with a soft thump. “You were asleep for so long.” The implied we weren’t sure if you would wake up again was loud and clear.

“Sorry to make you worry,” Liu Qingge murmured, gaze lingering on the other man’s beautiful face.

Shen Qingqiu shook his head wordlessly, eyes welling with a sheen of tears. He raised Liu Qingge’s hand, pressing his lips to Liu Qingge’s open palm, before turning his cheek into it and squeezing his eyes shut. A shaky sigh slipped past his lips. Liu Qingge watched wide-eyed, shocked into silence by the other peak lord’s emotional display. Luo Binghe stood nearby, looking anxious and shamefaced, hovering as if he wasn’t certain he was allowed to come closer. His eyes were sorrowful. Silence reigned for several long moments before Shen Qingqiu finally pulled back and opened his eyes, tears clinging to his long lashes.

“We were so scared for you,” he said roughly, sniffling. “I’m so sorry things turned out this way.”

“It’s not your fault,” Liu Qingge said with a tiny frown. “Certainly blame can be laid at Deng Rouhuan’s feet once more, I’d say.”

“Shishu doesn’t think I had anything to do with the attack?” Luo Binghe ventured then, sounding hopeful and timid at once as he spoke for the first time.

Liu Qingge swung his gaze up to the demon lord’s handsome face, brows furrowing in consternation. “Why in all the realms would I ever think that?”

Luo Binghe looked sheepish, lifting his broad shoulders in a shrug. “Everyone else seems to think maybe that was the case.”

“I’m not everyone else,” Liu Qingge retorted with a huff. “I know you didn’t do this.”

Luo Binghe’s shoulders sagged now with relief. “Thank you, Shishu.”

“Did you mean what you said at the grove, that you’re going to investigate the attack?” Liu Qingge wanted to know.

The demon lord nodded emphatically. “Yes! I already plan to return to the demon realm promptly and start looking into it. I just didn’t want to leave you before you woke up. I need to know, Shishu. Do you want me to give you the cure before I go?” His gaze turned intent, locking eye contact with Liu Qingge unwaveringly.

Liu Qingge swallowed and fidgeted, suddenly nervous. Shen Qingqiu squeezed his hand reassuringly. Liu Qingge took a steadying breath and replied, “I think you’d better. Mu Qingfang says my meridians are on the verge of disintegrating.”

Luo Binghe’s expression morphed into one of mixed surprise and horror. “The curse is moving along faster than I expected. We shouldn’t wait too much longer.”

Liu Qingge huffed. “Yes, well. Before all that, I’d like some food and some more sleep, I think.” Somehow, just being being awake this long and talking had tired him out.

Shen Qingqiu chuckled, patting Liu Qingge’s hand where he still cradled it in his other one. “Whatever you want, Shidi.”

Chapter 30

Notes:

Hello, lovelies. It's here at long last! Our boy Qingge finally gets his long awaited cure 😉 lots of smut ahead! I hope it's all enjoyable and as always, please let me know what you think down in the comments. Tags have been updated as well.

We've reached chapter 30. This feels like a milestone and an appropriate place for the events of this chapter, a nice round number. I also want to take this juncture to once again express my gratitude to all of you who have been reading this story all along. I certainly wouldn't have made it this long without all of your kind words and encouragement. It's been amazing. ❤️

Luo Binghe went to the kitchens to procure some food for Liu Qingge while Shen Qingqiu stayed behind and brewed a pot of tea using Liu Qingge’s own private stash of tea leaves from a tin on one of his shelves. Liu Qingge forced himself out of bed and wobbled his way to the table in the front room, just to prove to himself that he still could, waving off Shen Qingqiu's hovering hands and disapproving clucking. He was seated on a cushion nursing a cup of tea by the time Binghe returned, his rumpled inner robe arranged around him carefully and with as much dignity as he could muster.

Binghe had brought a bowl of clear soup and some rice with vegetables, not too much of either but rather just the right amount to settle Liu Qingge’s appetite without overwhelming his stomach. Liu Qingge shot the demon lord a grateful look as he set the tray down.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “You somehow know just what I need.” He was thinking back to the last time Binghe had brought him food in the wake of a debilitating migraine, just as thoughtfully chosen then as it had been now.

Luo Binghe offered a smile in response. Though the corners of his eyes crinkled a bit with it, he still seemed a bit sad. “It’s no problem.” He lowered himself down onto a nearby cushion as Liu Qingge reached for the chopsticks.

Shen Qingqiu wore a soft expression as he glanced across the table at his husband. “Binghe is always very attentive,” he praised before returning to sipping his tea.

Luo Binghe flushed, a very comely and distracting sight. “I’m glad you approve, Shizun,” he mumbled in a bashful manner Liu Qingge wouldn’t have ever believed him capable of until very recently.

There was a comfortable quiet for a while as Liu Qingge ate and the other two men drank their tea. Once he’d finished the rice and vegetables, Liu Qingge pushed the plate and chopsticks aside and reached for a spoon. The soup was still steaming so he paused, fiddling with the utensil in his grasp. “Where will you start your investigation?” he asked, disturbing the stillness as unobtrusively as possible.

Luo Binghe startled a bit, his mind obviously far away. He’d frozen in thought, teacup halfway to his lips. He blinked at the question and then looked at Liu Qingge, his expression considering. “I will start with Mobei and Shang Qinghua,” he replied. “If there’s anything to know, they will know it. Hopefully, Mobei will have a lead or two I can track down.”

Liu Qingge’s brows furrowed. “Are they even aware of what’s happened here?”

“I sent a message to Mobei after everything with Deng Rouhuan,” Luo Binghe explained. “I asked him to begin tracing the cuff’s origins. After we returned to the manor from the grove, I sent another missive with an update. I trust they will have news when I arrive back in the demon realm.”

Liu Qingge hummed thoughtfully, nodding. It was satisfying to know that Luo Binghe had already been pursuing the matter of the first slave cuff prior to the attack at the Golden Grove. It made sense that he would wish to look into it, considering the outlawed status of slavery in the demon realm. It was part and parcel of his job as the emperor, after all. If anyone was breaking the laws of the realm, it was prudent to find them and mete out appropriate punishment. Left unchecked, such activities could eventually threaten his power and position. Liu Qingge turned to Shen Qingqiu. “Will you go with him? Or will you return to Cang Qiong?”

“I haven’t fully decided,” Shen Qingqiu admitted. His normally placid expression turned a bit sharp as he glanced at Binghe. “We are…disagreeing about the matter.”

“I see,” Liu Qingge murmured, easily sensing the tension settling between the married couple. He cleared his throat quietly and ducked his head, reaching for the bowl of soup, feeling awkward. The thought of both of them leaving him was unpleasant so he pushed it aside forcefully. There would be time to deal with that later. He hurriedly drank down the soup and scooped out the beans and onions from the bottom of the bowl while Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe held a rather intense staring contest. Finally, Liu Qingge put the bowl down beside the empty plate, drained his teacup, and then pushed up from the floor.

“Well, I’m headed back to bed,” he muttered. For a moment, it seemed neither of the other two men had even heard him. But then, Binghe sighed and broke eye contact first, looking up at Liu Qingge.

“Do you want us to join you?” he asked softly, his expression gentle, all intensity and sharpness from just moments ago gone. “Even just to sleep for now?”

Liu Qingge hesitated, biting his lower lip. Inviting them into his bed seemed a monumental step though a necessary one. This was a very personal boundary and it had been such a long time since he’d had anyone in his bed, guest room activities notwithstanding. It was different here, in his own private space, his sanctuary. It didn’t matter if they would just start out napping and cuddling. He desperately hoped he wouldn’t make a fool out of himself. He might actually perish of embarrassment. He saw Luo Binghe’s gaze fixing on his mouth briefly before dragging back up to his eyes. Heat crept into Liu Qingge’s cheeks as he released his lip from between his teeth and nodded shyly. “Yes. I’d like that." It was the truth; despite his nervousness he didn't want to turn them away.

Luo Binghe immediately stood, teacup hastily put down and forgotten. His apparent eagerness brought a tingle of heat to Liu Qingge’s belly. Shen Qingqiu was busy tidying the table and waved them off.

“Go on. I’ll join when I’m done here.”

Luo Binghe drew close, reaching out to take Liu Qingge’s hands in his own, cradling them carefully, as if Liu Qingge was delicate and precious. He caught Liu Qingge’s gaze, ensnaring Bai Zhan’s lord helplessly. “Thank you, Shishu,” Binghe murmured. “I know this is a significant moment for you. Thank you for trusting me.”

Liu Qingge’s heart hammered as he nodded and said shyly, “Thank you for being willing to help me.”

“Of course.” Luo Binghe smiled and then leaned in to capture Liu Qingge’s lips in a kiss that was quite chaste, all things considered. It still left Liu Qingge a bit breathless when they parted, regardless. He allowed Binghe to nudge him into the next room and toward the bed. “You call the shots here, Shishu,” he reminded gently. “You can tell me what to do or not do. I promise I’ll listen.”

Liu Qingge couldn’t help but chuckle a bit. “I appreciate the reminder and I trust that you’ll keep your word.” He paused and then said, a bit hesitantly, “I really did want to take a nap first, though.”

It was Luo Binghe’s turn to chuckle. “I know, Shishu. It’s fine. I can wait a few more sichen. I’d rather have you rested.” Liu Qingge blushed furiously at the implication behind the words. The demon lord continued, “Would you be comfortable stripping down first?”

The thought of being skin-to-skin with Luo Binghe was somehow both exciting and comforting. Being cradled in those strong arms and against that broad chest sounded incredibly inviting. Plus, it would save them the hassle of discarding clothing later. He nodded. “Yes, that’s fine. I suspect you’ll be more than enough to keep me warm anyway.”

“Binghe is a heater in human form,” Shen Qingqiu confirmed with amusement in his voice from the front room.

“It’s true,” Luo Binghe agreed with a wry smile as he reached for his own belt. “I run hot.” Liu Qingge watched transfixed as the demon lord shed his layers, letting them drop one by one to pool on the floor. Finally, when he was down to his inner robe, he paused and looked up, catching Liu Qingge staring. “Am I the only one about to be naked here?” he asked jokingly, his lips quirking in a teasing smile.

“Oh!” Liu Qingge started and reached for the ties of his own robe, blushing. He pulled them loose resolutely and let the silk slip down his arms and onto the floorboards. He didn’t look up right away, somewhat embarrassed. It was the first time he’d been totally naked in front of a lover since he’d been a disciple, after all. His stomach swooped nervously and he resisted the urge to cover himself up again. His ears caught the whisper of cloth falling as Luo Binghe shrugged off his last layer as well. In the corner of his vision, he could just see the robe joining its compatriots on the floor. A moment later, there was a faint creak as the demon lord stepped closer.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed,” Luo Binghe murmured, hooking a knuckle gently under Liu Qingge’s chin and tilting his face up so they could look at each other. “You’re beautiful, so beautiful.”

Liu Qingge took a shaky breath. “My scars…” He trailed off, not even sure what he was trying to say.

“Are beautiful, just like the rest of you,” Luo Binghe finished for him, eyes impossibly gentle. It was clear that he meant every word. “Your body is gorgeous and I intend to worship you as you deserve.”

Liu Qingge’s knees trembled. His heart pounded. His breath hitched. For a long moment, he thought he might cry. “Thank you,” he whispered, closing his eyes as tension and apprehension drained from his body, seemingly straight out of the soles of his feet and into the floor underneath. He wondered if Binghe heard the many layers of meaning in those two words, and understood them.

Luo Binghe pressed a tender kiss to Liu Qingge’s forehead. “I’ll tell you as many times as it takes for you to believe it,” he promised before taking the other man’s hand and moving them toward the bed. It seemed he understood just fine, after all.

Liu Qingge settled down into Luo Binghe’s arms in bed, feeling remarkably comfortable with the current circumstances, which both surprised and delighted him. He sighed as Binghe’s warmth spread all along his back; the other man’s chest was as sturdy as he’d imagined, yet Binghe’s tan skin was soft and smooth. His breathing was steady and even and it didn’t take long for Liu Qingge to match his own breathing with it, falling into the rhythm mindlessly. He let his eyes slide closed again, relishing in the soft kiss that was pressed to his bare shoulder.

“Get some rest,” Luo Binghe murmured. “We’ll be right here when you wake up.”

Liu Qingge trusted it was the truth, and let himself slip toward sleep.

+++

The next time Liu Qingge woke, everything was pleasantly warm like honey heated by a hot summer’s afternoon. When he opened his eyes, the light was murky; a single lantern on the far side of the bedroom had been left lit. It cast flickering shadows along the walls and beamed ceiling. It must have been the middle of the night. He let out a soft breath and sank lower into the mattress. It was then that he realized that he was still being held against a broad chest that could only belong to Luo Binghe. The demon lord’s breath fanned across the nape of his neck softly. He seemed to still be slumbering peacefully, as was Shen Qingqiu, who was lying facing Liu Qingge, a bare shoulder visible above the bedcovers and dark hair draping across the pillow.

Liu Qingge had slept longer than he’d intended; it had been light outside when he’d settled into bed earlier. No matter, he thought, this was pleasant on its own. He felt rested and content to lie quietly for a while. An unknown amount of time later, Luo Binghe shifted, sighing, though he didn’t wake. His face nuzzled into Liu Qingge’s hair unconsciously and his hips pressed forward. Suddenly, a half-hard cock was nestled in the cleft of Liu Qingge’s ass. Liu Qingge’s breath stuttered softly, taken by surprise. He tried to twist his head enough to glance back at Binghe but his hair was trapped, preventing the movement. He wondered if the demon lord was caught in a pleasant dream. With a quiet huff, Liu Qingge settled back down, unwilling to wake his slumbering companions with any more squirming even as the first heat began to stir in his belly.

Some time later, Binghe shifted again, his cock sliding along Liu Qingge’s skin, velvety smooth and burning hot, impossible to ignore. Liu Qingge’s own cock twitched with the beginnings of interest. He bit his lip and let out a breath through his nose, wondering what course of action was proper in this situation. He found he was growing increasingly desperate to push back against Binghe’s hips, get the other man riled up into wakefulness, but he still hesitated. Should he simply wait for Binghe to wake up? Should he purposefully wake him? He waffled long enough that his dilemma solved itself when Luo Binghe huffed and tightened his arms around Liu Qingge in a manner that suggested growing awareness.

“Binghe?” Liu Qingge ventured in a whisper.

Luo Binghe groaned softly in response. “Qingge.” His voice was deep and rough with sleep and hearing his own name spoken in such a way sent a lick of molten heat down Liu Qingge’s spine. It was the first time he could ever recall Luo Binghe using his name rather than his title or an honorific. The familiarity of it was surprisingly arousing, loosening Liu Qingge’s tongue in a manner he would normally be shocked by but here in the relative darkness and the warm intimate atmosphere, seemed entirely reasonable.

“I want you,” he murmured lowly, without an ounce of shame, as he pressed his ass back the way he’d been wanting to. His own eagerness surprised him but it came with a comfort born of knowing he was in good hands, safe with people who cared for him.

Luo Binghe’s breath hitched, a hand shifting down to grip Liu Qingge’s hip. “Fuck,” he groaned. “I want you too.” His lips found Liu Qingge’s neck, pressing a line of hot, openmouthed kisses across his skin. Liu Qingge tilted his head, giving the other man as much access as he could. Teeth nipped at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, sending a jolt of arousal through Liu Qingge’s belly. He let out a soft approving sound. Luo Binghe took that as the permission it was and bit down a little harder, drawing a gasp from Liu Qingge’s mouth. A swipe of hot tongue soothed the area.

Luo Binghe’s hand on his hip stroked mindlessly a few times before sliding down to grip his thigh gently and nudge it forward, prompting Liu Qingge to bend his knee and slide his leg up until he had half shifted onto his front. Luo Binghe swept Liu Qingge’s loose hair up out of the way, exposing his finely muscled back. Binghe sat up further, lifting the covers away as he did so, letting a rush of cooler air dance its way across their naked skin. The hand on Liu Qingge’s thigh squeezed appreciatively before sliding up across his hip. Both of Luo Binghe’s broad warm palms slid along Liu Qingge’s back, his sword callouses just rough enough to leave tingles of sensation in their wake. Nimble fingers grazed and traced the scars Xin Mo had left behind, leaving Liu Qingge shivering and trembling despite the heat that still permeated the air immediately around them. Luo Binghe’s lips followed, trailing kisses over the knobs of Liu Qingge’s spine and along the imperfections left by old injuries, working steadily downward. He paused as he reached the small of Liu Qingge’s back, his thumbs settling in the shallow divots above Liu Qingge’s hipbones.

“Doing alright?” he murmured against Liu Qingge’s skin, barely a whisper on the air.

Liu Qingge took a shaky breath and nodded before realizing Binghe probably couldn’t see him. “Yes,” he forced himself to say, hearing the way his own voice trembled.

Luo Binghe hummed with a distinct note of satisfaction. “Qingge,” he breathed, one hand loosening to slide down and give one firm ass cheek a squeeze. “I want to put my mouth on you. I want to eat you out. May I?”

Liu Qingge’s belly tightened in arousal. His cock twitched against the mattress; he realized he was rock hard. “Yes, but I’ve never…”

Luo Binghe pressed a kiss to his hipbone. “I promise I’ll make you feel good.” Liu Qingge had little doubt of that. Binghe shifted further down the mattress, then wrapped his fingers around Liu Qingge’s hips and lifted, allowing him to situate himself until he was lying flat on his front. The demon lord reached for a pillow and drew it down the bed, sliding it under Liu Qingge’s hips. “There. Just relax and let the pillow do the work of keeping your hips in place.”

Liu Qingge let out a long breath, letting himself relax and sink into the pillow, only to gasp and unconsciously grind his hips down into it. The pressure and friction against his cock felt amazing. Behind him, Luo Binghe huffed a soft laugh, stroking Liu Qingge’s spine soothingly.

“That’s another perk to the pillow,” he murmured. “You can hump it as much as you want.”

Liu Qingge felt as though he ought to make some sort of witty comeback but couldn’t find the words just then. His mind was mush with pleasure. He settled for a vaguely acknowledging noise instead, pelvis swiveling with increasing fervor. Luo Binghe reached out and stilled his movements, fingers tight but not painful around his hips. Liu Qingge let out a protesting whine, bucking against the other man’s hold.

“Easy there,” Luo Binghe breathed with a note of amusement. “Slow down or you’ll finish before we even get started.” When Liu Qingge had settled once more, huffing agitatedly, Luo Binghe slid his palms down to Liu Qingge’s ass. His strong fingers kneaded the muscle there as he sighed appreciatively. “Your ass is spectacular,” he murmured.

Liu Qingge might have been embarrassed any other time but just then, he took the compliment gratefully, preening a bit by arching his back and wiggling his hips, trying to entice Luo Binghe. He was successful, if Binghe’s answering low groan was any indication. Fingers suddenly gripped tighter and spread him open, exposing his hole to the air and Binghe’s gaze. The vulnerability of the moment somehow only ratcheted Liu Qingge’s desperation up a notch, rather than making him bashful.

“Binghe, please,” he implored urgently. Some far corner of his mind was shocked and embarrassed by how breathy and needy he sounded already but the physical sensations easily drowned out any reticence he might have otherwise felt over his own reactions.

A light kiss against his tailbone was the only warning he had before Luo Binghe was licking his way into Liu Qingge’s cleft, tongue swirling and swiping eagerly. The sensation took Liu Qingge by surprise, despite being expected, and he gasped loudly, hips twitching, unsure if he should pull away or push back into it. Luo Binghe licked all the way down to his perineum and back up again before lavishing his hole with undivided attention. Liu Qingge gripped the sheet underneath him, fingers twisting the fabric as he rode out the feeling. His knees slid further apart across the mattress unconsciously and Binghe took the opportunity to move in even closer, redoubling his efforts. It wasn’t long before Liu Qingge’s breath was coming in sharp gasps, his forehead dropping down to rest against the bed. His hair fell around him in a sheet, tickling his face, but he couldn’t seem to loosen his fingers from the bedding to push it out of the way.

Cool fingertips swept the hair aside for him a moment later. “Qingge,” a soft voice called before those blessedly cool fingers cupped his flaming cheek. Liu Qingge tilted his head to see Shen Qingqiu propped up on an elbow beside him, looking down at him with a fond expression. Liu Qingge realized with a jolt that he’d been so wrapped up in Binghe, that he’d actually forgotten that it wasn’t just the two of them in this bed. “How are you doing, love?”

Just then, Luo Binghe’s tongue breached him for the first time and the hot, wet stretch had his toes curling and mouth falling open on a loud moan. Shen Qingqiu smiled.

“I’ll take that as you doing just fine,” he quipped, shifting closer, watching Liu Qingge’s blissful expression hungrily.

Luo Binghe had set up a steady rythm that Liu Qingge’s hips easily followed, rutting his aching cock into the pillow and pushing his ass back on that delightful tongue, over and over. Liu Qingge panted and whined, uncaring of what he sounded like as the pleasure built and pressure coiled in his belly.

“It feels amazing, doesn’t it?” Shen Qingqiu murmured, eyes following the curve of Liu Qingge’s spine before looking back at his face again. “Do you think you can come from this, beautiful? From his tongue in your tight ass?”

Luo Binghe growled at the words and the vibration sent sparks shooting up Liu Qingge’s spine. The demon lord pressed in closer, harder, deeper. Liu Qingge moaned, his toes curling. He was teetering on a knife’s edge of pleasure; it wouldn’t take much to tip him over. A light press of teeth at the edge of his stretched rim had him fucking down into the pillow hard and letting out a choked cry, half-muffled in the sheets as his whole body tensed like a drawn bowstring. A moment later, he was coming so hard he couldn’t breathe, his vision whiting out.

When Liu Qingge came back to awareness, Luo Binghe had sat up, his hands stroking Liu Qingge’s heaving flanks soothingly. Liu Qingge’s hips were still moving, rutting in tiny movements through the slick mess he’d made of the pillow. Binghe leaned down to press kisses across Liu Qingge’s shoulder blades. Shen Qingqiu lifted Liu Qingge’s hair away from his sweaty neck, dropping a kiss there before leaving one on his flushed cheek as well. There was comfortable quiet in the room for long moments as Liu Qingge came down from his orgasm and caught his breath.

Finally, Luo Binghe asked softly, “Are you ready to continue?”

Liu Qingge took stock of his body, the shakiness in his limbs, and the pounding of his heart. “Maybe,” he replied hoarsely. “What’s next?”

“I have to stretch you on my fingers.” Luo Binghe almost sounded apologetic but Liu Qingge felt a stab of anticipation. He’d long been wondering what Binghe’s fingers would feel like, after all. “You loosened up quite nicely with my tongue and an orgasm will help, but I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m ready,” Liu Qingge said unhesitatingly.

Shen Qingqiu chuckled. “Alright, then.”

Luo Binghe huffed in amusement and helped Liu Qingge lift his hips again so Shen Qingqiu could pull the pillow out from underneath him, tossing it off to the side. Then, to Liu Qingge’s surprised delight, the other peak lord maneuvered himself underneath him, replacing the pillow with his own groin. The man’s scholarly hands gripped Liu Qingge’s thighs and helped situate them on either side of his own hips. Liu Qingge found himself face-to-face with Shen Qingqiu, keenly aware of the other man’s erection pressing against his belly. Shen Qingqiu smiled, tenderly cupping Liu Qingge's cheek in his palm to guide him into a soft kiss that had Liu Qingge's chest aching with how loved he felt.

During all this rearranging, Luo Binghe had taken the opportunity to leave the bed briefly to retrieve the bottle of oil from the bedside table where it had been purposefully left sichen earlier for ease of access. Liu Qingge heard the pop of the cork but the drizzle of cool oil poured along his cleft still made him shiver. A brief pause and then Binghe gripped one side of his ass carefully, parting him again. A moment later, slick fingers rubbed across his hole, spreading the oil and warming it. Liu Qingge couldn’t help the way his whole body quivered and the gasp that left his mouth; he was still sensitive. Shen Qingqiu must have seen it in his expression because he warned his husband, “Easy, Binghe.”

Luo Binghe gave an answering grunt, apparently engrossed in his task. But he was careful nonetheless, moving slowly and giving Liu Qingge the chance to adjust to being touched again. He rubbed up and down his cleft with varying degrees of pressure and circled his hole gently and teasingly but it wasn’t until Liu Qingge canted his hips upward, seeking more, that Binghe carefully eased the first finger inside. There wasn’t much resistance after being thoroughly worked by the demon lord’s tongue and what there was vanished after only minimal thrusting of his long finger. He wasted no time in adding a second, no doubt beginning to grow impatient himself.

Those fingers felt as wonderful as Liu Qingge had imagined they would. Luo Binghe could reach deep, finding his prostate with ease. The first strokes across it had Liu Qingge crying out, jolting his entire body in sharp pleasure. His hips jerked, his cock rapidly filling out and hardening once more. Luo Binghe’s free hand steadied him, petting his side, as he slid a third finger past the ring of muscle. Now Liu Qingge felt the first burn of the stretch, though it wasn’t unpleasant. He rocked his hips with Luo Binghe’s movements and soon enough the pleasure of his cock sliding up alongside Shen Qingqiu’s and Binghe’s fingertips nudging his prostate had chased all the discomfort away.

Liu Qingge was panting by the time Luo Binghe slid the fourth finger inside him. He felt more full than he could readily recall ever feeling in decades; it made his belly tighten with want. He wanted more than Binghe’s fingers suddenly. He wanted to feel Binghe inside him, deeper than anyone had ever been before. His hips bucked impatiently.

“Please,” he gasped desperately. “Please, I need you.”

Luo Binghe groaned. “Fuck, Qingge, you can’t just say shit like that. You’re not quite stretched enough yet. Just a bit more. Soon, I promise.”

Liu Qingge whined. Shen Qingqiu cupped his face in his hands, thumbs stroking his cheekbones.

“Hang in there, lovely,” he murmured softly. “The extra bit of stretching is needed, trust me. It’ll be easier in the future but it’s your first time taking Binghe. Everything should be done to prevent it from hurting.” He drew Liu Qingge down for a kiss that quickly turned heated and messy, full of tongues and teeth. It thoroughly distracted Liu Qingge from his impatience for the moment.

His attention was diverted back to Luo Binghe however, when the demon lord finally pulled his hands away, carefully removing his fingers. Liu Qingge felt conspicuously empty, his hole clenching around nothing in anticipation of a larger and more satisfying intrusion. The sound of a slick palm against skin told him Binghe must be applying oil to his cock. Liu Qingge could hardly breathe as he waited. Then at long last, that cock he’d felt earlier nudged its way along the cleft of his ass, slick and burning hot. Liu Qingge gasped; before Binghe had only been half-aroused but now he was rock hard and noticeably longer and thicker.

“Qingge.” Shen Qingqiu drew his attention back to himself. “Relax as much as you can.”

Liu Qingge took a deep breath and tried his best to go boneless where he was spread across Shen Qingqiu’s body. The tip of Luo Binghe’s cock caught on his rim; there was a moment of inexorable pressure. Then Liu Qingge’s body yielded and the tip slipped inside. Binghe used the chance to push a bit further in before stilling. The burn was back, bringing a whimper to Liu Qingge’s lips. He struggled to keep his body from tightening up against the intrusion.

“Breathe,” Shen Qingqiu coached him softly, palms rubbing his rib cage soothingly. “Just breathe through it.”

Liu Qingge gulped down deep breaths, his fingers once more clenched tightly, but this time against Shen Qingqiu’s pectoral muscles rather than the sheets. The other man didn’t seem to mind, his expression reflecting sympathy and serenity. Each time Liu Qingge exhaled, Luo Binghe rocked a little deeper, easing himself inside gradually until eventually, his hips sat flush against Liu Qingge’s ass. He paused there, catching his own breath.

“Fuck, you’re tight, even after all that preparation,” he muttered, sounding both blissful and strained.

Liu Qingge wanted to kick him in retaliation but he felt like he could barely move, spread open and speared on Binghe’s cock as he was. He whimpered in response. He could hardly believe he’d managed to take Binghe all the way to the hilt, especially after not having been fucked like this in so long.

Shen Qingqiu peppered kisses across Liu Qingge’s face. “You’re doing so well, Qingge. So beautiful and good for us.”

The words brought a resurgence of the desire in Liu Qingge’s gut that had flagged a bit during the recent discomfort. He moaned softly, helplessly clenching around the throbbing cock inside him. Luo Binghe grunted, his hips automatically jerking forward in response. His cock rubbed deliciously across Liu Qingge’s prostate, sending a zap of pleasure ringing through his body. Liu Qingge cried out, fingers scrabbling against Shen Qingqiu’s chest.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he gasped. “Binghe, move! Fuck me!”

The demon lord needed no further prompting. His hips withdrew and then snapped forward over and over. It didn’t matter that he was only pulling out halfway each time because he rubbed across Liu Qingge’s prostate in both directions, bringing a constant wave of pleasure so relentless that Liu Qingge thought he might pass out, the edges of his vision darkening. He felt indescribably full, stretched beyond what he’d imagined his limits were, but it was amazing. He’d never felt pleasure like this. His whole body shook and his thighs trembled so fiercely he couldn’t keep up pushing back to meet Binghe’s thrusts, so he simply went limp against Shen Qingqiu and let Luo Binghe grip his hips and maneuver him however he wanted, tilting his pelvis to deepen the angle even further until it felt as though Binghe’s cock was all the way up in his stomach. The intensity of it all stole his breath and brought tears to his eyes.

“Fuck, you feel good,” Luo Binghe gasped, sounding strained. “You’re taking me so well, like you were made for me.” He moaned, deep and guttural, a sound that made Liu Qingge’s abused hole tighten up further. Luo Binghe grunted and snapped his hips forward faster. “Are you close, Qingge? Cause I am.”

Liu Qingge nodded against Shen Qingqiu’s chest, unable to muster a verbal reply. Luckily, Shen Qingqiu had noticed.

“I think our Qingge could come any time,” he told Binghe over Liu Qingge’s head. “You better start the transfer.”

A warm trickle of qi slid along Liu Qingge’s meridians a moment later, undoubtedly coming from Luo Binghe. The demonic energy pressed against the blockages and there was a long moment during which Liu Qingge wondered if he ought to brace himself for a sharp stab of pain, much like when Mu Qingfang had prodded at the same blockages. But something about the demonic quality of the curse allowed the blockages to give way to Binghe's demonic qi and they swiftly began collapsing. It felt good, like Binghe was everywhere at once, inside him and around him, seeking out the lingering corruption in his spiritual veins and snuffing it out. It brought such relief that Liu Qingge nearly orgasmed on the spot. His pleasure intensified into something almost crystalline that he could very nearly see on the backs of his eyelids. He wondered if anyone had ever ascended in the middle of dual cultivation; if so, he thought he could understand how it might have happened. Gradually, the trickle turned into a stream and then into a river, rushing everywhere and bowling over the dams that tried feebly to block its progress. Liu Qingge could finally sense his own qi, stirring alongside Binghe’s. The two streams of energy slid along one another, sparking and crackling. Both of them twitched and moaned, Luo Binghe’s hips moving now on autopilot, both of them completely arrested by their qi interacting, so much so that the physical sensation of their simultaneous orgasms was lost in the muddle.

For a moment, it seemed as though Liu Qingge’s spiritual energy was going to resist the demonic qi. But then suddenly, it gave in, and the energy streams melded successfully, intertwining in much the same way their physical bodies were intertwined, undulating together as the last of the curse’s corruption was burned away. The mingled qi flowed freely through Liu Qingge’s spiritual veins, unhindered at long last. His meridians were the widest open they'd been in several years and Liu Qingge could feel them tingling and vibrating, contributing to the overall feeling of pleasant fullness and pressure. Liu Qingge felt as though he could remember what it felt like to be powerful and healthy and have the utmost trust in his own cultivation. It was good, even if it was overwhelming.

Shen Qingqiu gently wiped tears from Liu Qingge's cheeks, his expression both concerned and awed. "Qingge, are you alright?"

Liu Qingge found he couldn't form words, his mind too hazy. He made a noise in response but he wasn't certain if it was supposed to be reassuring or acknowledging or something else. Soft lips pressed gentle kisses to his forehead and the tip of his nose. Shen Qingqiu's palms cupped his face, his thumbs brushing his cheekbones. Their skin was hot and tacky with sweat where Liu Qingge lay all along the length of the other man's torso, a sensation that reminded him where he was and who he was with, and that he was safe here. Liu Qingge breathed out a soft sigh and let his eyes slide shut, content.

Above him, Luo Binghe was still huffing with exertion, his breath fanning across Liu Qingge's back. The demon lord's hands still held his hips, his pelvis still swiveling forward in the barest of movements as Binghe came down from his own high. Eventually, he stilled and leaned down to drop a series of kisses along Liu Qingge's spine and across his shoulders, lips pressing along the lines of old scars. Liu Qingge could feel Luo Binghe's curls brushing softly against his skin, sending pleasant shivers everywhere. Finally, Luo Binghe rested his forehead against Liu Qingge's sweat-damp nape.

"Love you, Qingge," he mumbled, almost too quiet to be heard. There was a pause and then he continued in a slightly louder tone, "I don't sense any more of the cursed qi in your system. The cure should be a success."

Liu Qingge grunted in vague acknowledgement and trembled as Luo Binghe slowly and carefully detached himself from Liu Qingge's body, the drag of his cock over Liu Qingge's prostate bringing a shiver of oversensitivity. He couldn't muster the energy or the brainpower for words just then; he felt as though perhaps he never would again. He felt hollowed out in the best way. His mind was fuzzy and blank, hung up on the physical sensations of their coupling, how good it had felt. He hadn't anticipated that he would enjoy himself as much as he had, even if it had been an intense experience. It was a relief to know sex could still be amazing despite the trauma he'd suffered.

Liu Qingge didn't realize he was still silently crying until Shen Qingqiu wiped his tears away once more and gently stroked his hair, carefully combing the loose strands back from his face. "Binghe, help me get Qingge to the bath," the man said quietly before murmuring closer to Liu Qingge's ear, "We'll get you cleaned up, love. Just keep floating. We've got you."

He trusted those words, trusted these men. He allowed Luo Binghe to gently gather him up in his arms and carry him to the tub. He allowed Shen Qingqiu to slip into the water beside him and maneuver him however he needed to, allowed the careful yet firm touches of hands and cloths that washed away the sweat, come, and oil at the same time that they helped ground him just enough that he knew he could eventually return from wherever he was in the meantime.

Until then, he floated.

Chapter 31

Notes:

Hello, lovelies! I can't believe it's been over two months since I updated *surprised Pikachu face* I had a busy couple months between work and trying to keep up some semblance of a social life and then going on vacation to Iceland and Finland (lovely countries btw, loved visiting!) and now I'm going to be visiting a friend I haven't seen in nearly a year. Among all of it, I finally found time to finish this chapter.

Please enjoy and let me know what you think in the comments! Thank you so much for your patience <33333

Liu Qingge’s eyes opened to midmorning light. He blinked slowly, realizing it was much later than he would typically sleep. But then, he supposed groggily, the activities of the previous night had pretty damn well wiped him out. He sighed contentedly and stretched languorously, the sheets smooth and warm against his still bare skin. His hair was a loose inky cascade over the pillows; it still smelled pleasantly of the oils that had been applied to it during the previous evening’s bath. He felt good, the best he’d felt in a very long time, aside from a lingering soreness in his ass, but he couldn’t even be annoyed by that when he could feel his qi humming along his spiritual veins more smoothly than it had in nearly six years. If there were still snags and snarls in it left over from Xin Mo, they weren’t readily apparent, and the blockages gifted to him by the slave cuff had been obliterated.

Dual cultivation with Luo Binghe had been a success.

Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe were both still slumbering peacefully on either side of him, all warm skin, loose hair, and soft breathing. Liu Qingge gazed at them in turn, chest warm and full of affection. A small smile played sleepily on his lips. He felt grateful that these two men had chosen him, had cared for his comfort and well-being enough to handle him carefully but without condescension. Their hands had been gentle when he'd needed them to be, and grounding when he'd needed that too. The experience of being made love to by these two men had been more than he'd hoped for. Until recently, he would have believed it was more than he deserved but that part of him, that cynical voice in his head, had quieted under Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu's attentive care.

Liu Qingge blushed as he realized he wanted to do more things with them, explore, and discover more about himself alongside these two.

He lay quietly for a while longer, thinking back on the previous night. He’d had a better time than he’d imagined he might, the pace of sensations so thoroughly distracting and the presence of his lovers steady enough that he hadn’t felt unsettled or frightened at all, nary a wisp of thought or memory regarding his past traumas surfacing. He could only hope every time would be like that, but Liu Qingge was nothing if not practical and realistic. He couldn’t be certain of when or how a situation or a particular touch might cause that cynical voice in his head to pipe back up but he felt sure the two men laying in bed with him would be able to help him through any issues that cropped up.

Once Liu Qingge’s back began to ache from being in a horizontal position for a bit too long, he scooted up and levered himself into a sitting position, careful to avoid jostling the mattress too much. He stretched his back slowly and then called on his qi, rubbing his fingertips together until they tingled with a faint buzzing power. Eyeing the lantern dangling from a rafter across the room, Liu Qingge flicked his fingers and watched with bated breath as the flame within the lantern flared to life. A rush of heady giddiness brought a smile to his lips as his heart beat a little faster in excitement. A soft snap of his fingers extinguished the light. He repeated the simple trick several more times, hardly able to believe what he was doing. Being without his cultivation had affected him more than he’d like to admit; he’d felt useless and less than whole, as if he’d lost a limb or one of his senses. For a cultivator, especially one of his caliber, qi and being able to access it was just as vital as breathing. Spiritual cultivators could compensate for deficiencies of senses and losses of limbs but being a physical cultivator meant Liu Qingge was highly reliant on his body being whole. There was a press of emotion in his throat as he commanded the lantern to brightness yet again.

A soft huff of breath against Liu Qingge’s shoulder was followed by gentle lips kissing his bare skin. “Are you satisfied with the results of our lovemaking?” Luo Binghe’s voice was quiet and gravelly with sleep but he still managed to sound amused. “If not, I’m more than amenable to another try.”

Liu Qingge was startled out of his fixation on his qi, leaving the lantern burning as he glanced over his shoulder at the demon lord. Binghe’s loose curls were rumpled in the most fetching fashion, his dark eyes still a bit bleary but full of affection. The sight made Liu Qingge’s heart skip a beat. “What if I’m satisfied and still want to try again, anyway?” he murmured, words loosened in the warmth of the moment, spilling out before he could think better of them.

Luo Binghe grinned. “That can be arranged.” He surged up for a kiss, capturing Liu Qingge’s lips guilelessly, both of them a bit lazy with the morning’s languidness. Liu Qingge hummed in contentment and opened his mouth easily to the other man, his eyes fluttering closed and allowing Luo Binghe’s tongue to lick its way inside, not unlike what he’d done to Liu Qingge’s ass the night before. The thought brought a blush to Liu Qingge’s cheeks.

When Luo Binghe pulled back from the kiss and saw Liu Qingge’s flushed face, his head tilted to the side and his lips curved in a lightly teasing expression. “What’s got your cheeks so red?” he asked in a deep rumble. “Remembering the best bits from last night?”

Liu Qingge reached out to shove at Luo Binghe’s shoulder scoldingly, even as his blush deepened. “So what if I am?” he grumbled, eyes sliding away in embarrassment.

Luo Binghe chuckled, shifting closer and raising a hand to brush Liu Qingge’s hair off his shoulder, baring his neck. The demon lord leaned in and pressed a kiss to the sensitive skin at the juncture of neck and shoulder. Despite his apparent amusement, when he spoke next, his tone was serious and earnest. “Did you enjoy yourself, Shishu? I certainly did.”

The admission brought a pleased twist to Liu Qingge’s stomach. He had imagined how awkward it might be if he had been the only one who had had a pleasant time, or if none of them had, so it was reassuring to know Luo Binghe hadn’t hated it, even though the other man had already made previous comments about interest in further activities. Then again, Binghe hadn’t exactly been shy in expressing how attractive he found Liu Qingge. It took a moment for him to gather his thoughts and words enough to reply to Binghe’s question. “I enjoyed it,” he whispered, feeling as though his burning hot skin would simply melt right off his face. He had to be flushed all the way down to his chest.

Luo Binghe made a satisfied noise low in his throat. “It makes me happy to hear that,” he murmured. “I liked making you feel good.” He paused to press yet another kiss to Liu Qingge’s skin, higher up his neck this time. “I’m glad we were successful in dispelling the curse.” There was something deeper unsaid behind those words, simple and straightforward as they were, something that seemed too raw to be spoken aloud. Almost as if Luo Binghe had pondered what might have happened if the cure had not worked, for whatever reason, scenarios he couldn’t bear to give voice to. Liu Qingge could just barely hear it in the way Luo Binghe’s voice trembled ever so slightly on the last few words of the sentence. He could feel it in the momentarily shaky way Luo Binghe’s breath gusted across Liu Qingge’s delicate skin. It made Liu Qingge’s heart ache. Binghe nuzzled behind Liu Qingge’s ear for a long moment before pulling back to ask, “Are you feeling alright? Any soreness?”

Liu Qingge shifted minutely. “A little, but it’s not bad.”

Luo Binghe hummed in response, kissing Liu Qingge’s shoulder once more before straightening and turning to slide out of bed. Liu Qingge watched him curiously as he moved across the room to what could only be his robes, folded neatly and piled atop the chest beside the wardrobe, black and red silk looking so incongruous next to the varying shades of green beside them. Shen Qingqiu’s things, just as carefully folded and stacked. Liu Qingge last remembered seeing Luo Binghe’s robes pooling on the floor; cleanup efforts had extended beyond his own body, apparently. Silently, he appreciated the thoughtfulness as Luo Binghe rustled around until he found his qiankun pouch and opened it. A moment later, he withdrew a small jar, holding it up.

“This salve should help, if Shishu is so inclined,” Luo Binghe said, abandoning the pouch on top of his robes and returning to the bed, jar in hand. “It’s multi-purpose but Shizun finds it works well when he needs it.”

Liu Qingge felt his cheeks heat once more as he reached out to accept the jar. “He said it gets easier,” he found himself saying, in a tone of mixed trepidation and indignation.

A shuffling followed by a chuckle came from behind him. “It does,” came Shen Qingqiu’s voice, a bit raspy with sleep. He was finally awake, it seemed. He always had been a heavy sleeper, at least since that one qi deviation. “But sometimes we get a little, ah. Vigorous. And then the salve helps.”

Liu Qingge could feel his blush deepen. He reflexively gripped the jar a little tighter. “Oh,” was all he could think to say. After the way he’d felt last night, speared and stretched on Luo Binghe’s thick cock, he was having a hard time imagining being able to participate in a ‘vigorous’ manner.

Shen Qingqiu shifted closer, until Liu Qingge could feel his body heat against his bare skin. A cool hand slid down his bicep and forearm as the man dropped a kiss to the nape of Liu Qingge’s neck in a silent greeting. Shen Qingqiu’s fingers curled around Liu Qingge’s where they gripped the salve jar. “There’s no need to be embarrassed,” he said softly, his breath stirring the loose strands of Liu Qingge’s hair. Liu Qingge had to suppress a shiver. “If you’d like, I can demonstrate how I use the salve for best effectiveness.”

Liu Qingge had the vague notion that he was being propositioned. Luo Binghe had teased him, sure, but Shen Qingqiu’s voice and presence held a certain intentness that Binghe’s hadn’t. Part of him wanted to protest that his ass surely needed a break but he let his fingers loosen from around the jar anyway. Shen Qingqiu plucked it from his palm before Liu Qingge could think better of it. At any rate, he trusted Shen Qingqiu to be gentle with him.

Shen Qingqiu patted the mattress where Liu Qingge had been laying previously. “Lay down, Qingge. Facedown, if that’s alright.” When Liu Qingge glanced at him, a lovely little smile curved the other man’s lips but there was a mischievous twinkle in his green eyes. A look at Luo Binghe only earned him waggling eyebrows.

“Shizun just wants to make sure you’re well taken care of,” the demon lord quipped, grinning.

Liu Qingge snorted and eased himself back down into a prone position, settling onto his front as Shen Qingqiu spoke. “I’m sure you could do this yourself but I figured we could actually make it fun. If you don’t want to, Shidi, just say so and we’ll stop.”

Liu Qingge took a moment to take stock of his feelings about the situation. He had literally just been thinking about how he wanted to explore more things with his lovers not all that long ago; this was just another thing. Knowing he had only to say the word and things would stop was as comforting as it had been last night or the other morning he had let Shen Qingqiu finger him. He felt good about letting down his guard a little, even in the bright daylight of midmorning. He nodded. “I’m fine to continue,” he forced himself to say, half muffled by his pillow.

Shen Qingqiu hummed and shifted. A moment later, he settled his weight across Liu Qingge’s thighs. His hands gathered Liu Qingge’s hair carefully, almost reverently, and moved it off to the side, draped forward across Liu Qingge’s shoulder. His back was now completely bare; Liu Qingge could feel the other man’s eyes on him, studying the shifting muscles under his skin, and fought the urge to squirm. Next, he heard the jar’s lid being popped off. A faintly minty medicinal aroma filled the air, underlaid with something that smelled like honey. There was a thick, wet sound that he assumed was Shen Qingqiu warming some of the salve between his hands. Only moments later, those palms came down gently on his back, spreading the salve across the expanse of his skin. Liu Qingge twitched a little, the salve still a bit cool, but in the next heartbeat he melted into the sensation of being touched.

“That’s it, Shidi,” Shen Qingqiu murmured. “Deep breaths. Relax into it.”

Quiet descended, interrupted only by their breathing, the sound of slick hands running along skin, and the ambient sounds of the world beyond the bedroom walls. Liu Qingge couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten a massage. It was admittedly wonderful: Shen Qingqiu’s hands were clever, seeking out all the tight places around his shoulder blades and along his spine, the salve leaving a pleasing tingle behind. His eyes had long fluttered closed, losing himself in the ministrations. It was peaceful.

Eventually, Shen Qingqiu’s hands began to work lower and lower, his thumbs digging into the tight muscles along the tops of Liu Qingge’s hips before his knuckles made themselves known pressing into the meat of Liu Qingge’s ass cheeks. Liu Qingge didn’t think he’d ever had his posterior massaged before but he found that he didn’t mind it at all. There was a faint ache that came with it but it was that certain kind of pleasant hurt, so he didn’t bother to make a fuss. He huffed out a little pleased breath and Shen Qingqiu chuckled above him.

“Feel good, Shidi?” his fellow peak lord asked, so quietly the words barely disturbed the tranquil atmosphere they’d built.

Liu Qingge offered an affirmative grunt in response. He felt like a puddle, content and gooey. Shen Qingqiu huffed a soft laugh. He leaned down to drop a kiss to the space between Liu Qingge’s shoulder blades, his silky hair trailing across Liu Qingge’s skin as he did so, leaving a trail of goosebumps in response. When he sat up again, one of his hands lifted away; Liu Qingge assumed he was reaching for more of the salve. Shen Qingqiu’s other hand remained, though the massaging motions had paused. Instead those long, deceptively strong fingers gripped Liu Qingge’s ass cheek firmly, seemingly mindlessly squeezing in a manner that wasn’t unpleasant. The touch sent little tingles of pleasure up the War God’s spine and he couldn’t repress a tiny shiver.

When the other man’s second hand returned, freshly slick fingertips slipped down along the cleft of Liu Qingge’s ass. He gasped softly at the sensation of the cool salve against the most sensitive part of his body, at the way Shen Qingqiu’s thumb carefully parted him for easier access. The other peak lord’s touch was gentle against Liu Qingge’s tender rim, circling and stroking lightly, working the salve into the delicate skin. Liu Qingge breathed out shakily, his fingers flexing against the sheets.

“You’re still puffy here,” Shen Qingqiu murmured, dragging a finger across Liu Qingge’s twitching hole. Liu Qingge couldn’t help the way his cheeks heated at the observation. The scrutiny made him want to squirm. “I’m going to put a finger inside, Shidi. Please tell me if it hurts.” He waited for Liu Qingge’s answering nod and accompanying exhale before slowly working a single finger past Liu Qingge’s rim, the salve easing the way. Liu Qingge immediately found himself caught between relief and discomfort, as the soothing tingle of the salve warred with the tender friction of the slide of the digit along his inner walls. His hips twitched, unsure of whether to push back or pull away. Shen Qingqiu instantly paused.

"Are you doing alright, Qingge?" His free hand slid up to the small of Liu Qingge's back where it settled soothingly.

Liu Qingge squirmed, taking a steadying breath. "Just sensitive," he gasped out.

Luo Binghe's warm fingers touched Liu Qingge's cheek in a comforting caress before sliding up to tuck locks of loose hair behind Liu Qingge's ear. "Is it too much?"

Liu Qingge lay quietly for several long moments, trying to decide if it really was too much or if he was being overdramatic and was fine to continue. Part of him wanted to, eager to let Shen Qingqiu bring him a dose of morning pleasure, as the man no doubt had been intending. But the rest of him felt oversensitive in a way that was quickly proving to be too intense for his liking. He felt raw and fragile, his body still obviously overwhelmed.

"It's fine if you don't want to continue," Luo Binghe murmured, his fingers stroking through Liu Qingge's hair gently, being careful to not pull at any tangles. "You don't have to push yourself, Qingge."

Liu Qingge had to remind himself that he wouldn’t be judged here; there was no shame in calling an end to the proceedings. It didn’t mean he was weak. Still, he wasn’t used to retreating or backing down from a challenge. It took him several long moments, during which the other two men waited patiently, to come to a decision.

“I’d like to stop,” Liu Qingge said so quietly that he could feel Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu both leaning closer to hear his words more clearly. He kept his face half-buried in the pillow. “I’m sorry.” He still couldn’t quite help the stab of embarrassment he felt at the acknowledgment of his body’s limitations.

Shen Qingqiu’s fingers drug soothingly down the line of Liu Qingge’s spine. “You don’t need to apologize, Shidi.” The other peak lord’s voice was gentle. “I’m going to pull out my finger now. There should be enough salve inside to help ease your discomfort, at any rate.” His slender finger withdrew from Liu Qingge’s body as easily as it had intruded, taking Liu Qingge’s breath with it. He felt an instant sense of relief, the tension bleeding out of his spine. His backside tingled pleasantly, covering up the worst of the ache. There was a rustling of cloth and the sound of more salve being scooped from the jar. Shen Qingqiu’s hands returned to Liu Qingge’s back, massaging just as he had been doing previously, carrying on as if nothing was amiss. Liu Qingge forcibly smothered his embarrassment; if his companions weren’t bothered by the shift in the atmosphere, then he shouldn’t be either. He let out a long breath, mindfully letting the recently gathered tension in his shoulders melt away and falling back into the feeling of Shen Qingqiu’s fingers on his skin.

An unknown amount of time passed. Liu Qingge dozed, breaths evening out and deepening. Above and beside him, Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu murmured quietly to one another, softly enough to not disturb the peacefulness. Somehow, the sound of their voices were relaxing rather than disruptive. Liu Qingge listened to the cadence of their speech without hearing anything, without recognizing the words flowing around him. He was content.

+++

Liu Qingge found Li Jun sweeping the main courtyard when he left his rooms some time later. The old man greeted him with a smile and a twinkle in his eye, leaning on his broom in place of his usual walking stick.

“I’d say good morning but it’s nearly midday,” he quipped brightly.

Liu Qingge felt embarrassed heat creep across his cheeks. He cleared his throat. “Time got away from me,” he murmured sheepishly.

Li Jun chuckled. “I’m sure you were in need of the rest.”

Liu Qingge fought the urge to squirm. Did the entire manor know what had gone on last night?! Surely he hadn't been that loud? He wanted to shrivel up and disappear in pure mortification. “Gong-gong, do you happen to know where I might find Mu Qingfang?” he forced himself to ask, tone only slightly stilted.

“I believe your doctor friend mentioned something about the library when I saw him last,” Li Jun answered helpfully, resuming his sweeping.

The library made loads of sense; Liu Qingge supposed he would have eventually made it there through sheer process of elimination while searching for his fellow peak lord. He inclined his head in a show of gratitude, thanked Li Jun, and then hurried on his way, hoping to avoid seeing anyone else until after he’d visited Mu Qingfang.

Willow Manor’s library was situated in a pavilion near the gardens, set back toward the corner of the outer walls. A winding gravel path forked at a gingko tree at the entrance to the gardens; the right hand path continued on into the gardens while the left side showed the way to the library pavilion. This was the route Liu Qingge took, slipping through the grounds of the manor quietly, his steps light on the pathways. The walk to the library was as picturesque as a stroll through the gardens, if somewhat less elaborate, and the journey helped soothe Liu Qingge’s anxiety so that by the time he mounted the pavilion steps he felt mostly like himself again, steady and settled. He opened the door just far enough for him to slip inside, closing it softly. He was always loathe to disturb the quiet of the library whenever he came here, much the same way he felt when he had to track down Shen Qingqiu in the library on Qing Jing. Liu Qingge might not be the most academic of cultivators but he still held a measure of deep respect for places dedicated to learning and holding stores of knowledge. Knowledge was power, knowledge kept one alive in the wider world.

The scent of paper and ink met his nose. He drew in a deep breath, looking around for Mu Qingfang. His friend was nowhere in sight but Liu Qingge could hear the faint rustling of movement toward a back corner. He set off in that direction, striding past rows of shelves stacked with scrolls and books, organized by topic and further by author if there were multiple works by the same person. Liu Qingge could still remember the layout of the subject matter and as he headed toward the soft sounds from several aisles away, he realized without much surprise that Mu Qingfang must be looking through the works dealing with plants and herbal remedies. It was so in character that it brought a little smile to Liu Qingge’s lips.

He rounded a corner and found the doctor poking through some scrolls at a desk. His friend was dressed casually this morning, though his brows were lightly furrowed as his long fingers shuffled among the parchments, expression thoughtful as any serious scholar. He paused and glanced up at the creaking of floorboards that announced Liu Qingge’s arrival. His demeanor brightened instantly, mouth curving into a smile.

“Good morning, Qingge. How are we feeling?” Mu Qingfang’s smile was reflected in his warm brown eyes. He waved a hand toward the empty chair at the opposite side of the desk. “Come sit with me a while.”

Liu Qingge took a seat before he answered his friend’s question. “I feel good this morning.” He paused and cleared his throat somewhat self-consciously. “I’ve been cured.”

“Oh!” Mu Qingfang’s expression showed genuine surprise, his brows reaching for his hairline, before rapidly morphing into one of relief. “This is lovely news. I trust everything went well?” Liu Qingge nodded, flushing and avoiding the other man’s eyes in a now familiar stab of embarrassment. Mu Qingfang let out an amused breath.

“I won’t pry. As long as you’re not hurt?”

Liu Qingge shook his head. “Just a bit sore but I’m otherwise fine.”

Mu Qingfang hummed. “I’m not surprised. It’s been a long time since you’ve been intimate with anyone. But if it becomes a persistent problem, I expect you to inform me.”

“Of course,” Liu Qingge murmured.

Mu Qingfang pushed a few scrolls aside carefully and laid his hand out, palm up. “Let me check your meridians.”

“I can access my qi again,” Liu Qingge said as he put his wrist in the doctor’s grip. Immediately, he felt Mu Qingfang prodding carefully along his spiritual veins and through his meridians. Liu Qingge held his breath for several long moments but the pain that had been sickeningly familiar never came.

Mu Qingfang glanced at Liu Qingge. “I’m glad to hear it. I don’t feel any traces of the curse. There’s no pain?”

“None,” Liu Qingge confirmed.

Mu Qingfang paused, biting his lip for a moment as if he were debating with himself on what exactly to say. Finally, he asked, “Can you access your qi like you were able to before Xin Mo’s corruption?”

“As far as I can tell, yes.” Liu Qingge could hear the note of hesitant hopefulness in his own voice. His fingers twitched the slightest bit where they lay against the desk’s surface. “Is there any way to know if the corruption is gone for good or just temporarily?”

“I’m afraid there’s no way to be certain at this point,” Mu Qingfang replied apologetically, his brows creasing and the corners of his lips tugging into a grim line. “We’ll have to bide our time and see what happens. I know that’s likely not the answer you wanted to hear.”

Liu Qingge huffed even as his heart sank the tiniest bit. “I prefer to hear the truth, Qingfang, you should know that by now. If the blockages come back, I’ll inform you.”

“Good.” Mu Qingfang nodded, releasing Liu Qingge’s wrist and sitting back in his chair. “I hope they don’t, for your sake. But if they do, we may have a better chance of managing them this time since we understand what’s happening.” One corner of his mouth curled up in a half-smile. “Plus, you have the ability to seek Lord Luo’s aid, as well.”

Liu Qingge made a noise somewhere between surprise and outrage. Mu Qingfang had the audacity to laugh.

“What? It’s fairly obvious that Xin Mo’s corruption is at least temporarily banished by dual cultivation with Lord Luo. Why not take advantage of that?”

“I don’t know if my ass can take it,” Liu Qingge muttered, looking away and crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

“There’s salves and ointments I can give you for that--”

Liu Qingge was already out of his chair and walking away. “I’ll talk to you about this sometime later!”

Mu Qingfang’s laughter followed him out the door.

+++

Liu Qingge pulled Shen Qingqiu aside just outside the main hall as he caught up to a group consisting of his two lovers, his cousin, and his sister as they all headed in for the midday meal. Qing Jing’s lord took one look at his face and asked, “What’s wrong, Qingge?” A serious air descended on the man, straightening his spine and squaring his shoulders.

Liu Qingge leaned close to ask in a low tone, “Do you think we were too loud last night? Has anyone said anything to you or Binghe?”

Shen Qingqiu blinked in surprise. “No one has said anything, Shidi,” he replied slowly, “because I was sure to put up silencing talismans in your room last night while I was cleaning up in the front room. Before I came to join you and Binghe.”

It was Liu Qingge’s turn to blink. He felt rather stupid suddenly. How could he have missed the talismans? Then again, he had been quite distracted. “Oh.”

Shen Qingqiu chuckled. “Yes, oh. This master wanted to be certain your privacy was protected.”

“Thank you. Such a thing hadn’t crossed my mind till this morning.” Liu Qingge cringed.

“Of course, Shidi. Binghe and I are always here to look out for you.” Shen Qingqiu nodded toward the main hall, where Luo Binghe was standing in the doorway, patiently waiting for them, looking every bit the powerful demon lord he was, resplendent in his black and red robes. “Shall we go?”

Liu Qingge made an acknowledging noise and let Shen Qingqiu take his hand and tug him forward. A smile curved his lips then, finally. It seemed things were actually going in his favor, for once. He decided to put any lingering concerns aside for at least the duration of lunch and simply enjoy the company of the people he loved most, and appreciate the fact that he was still there to do so.

Chapter 32

Notes:

Can you believe it?! I've returned at long last! I apologize heartily for this lengthy wait, but life has been crazy: I entered a new relationship, I had two surgeries, my mom had breast cancer, I bought a house and moved, I wrecked my car, and probably some other things I can't recall at this moment. Needless to say, going forward, I'm hoping things will settle down and allow me to return to writing on a more regular basis.

The ending of this chapter was purposefully left open for a sequel to follow...so I guess, watch for that! I'll also still be looking into putting this story up for physical hard copies for those interested, so any updates on that will follow in the sequel's author notes. I haven't forgotten!

Dear readers, new and old, I hope you will enjoy this final chapter of this work. That's right, after a long hiatus of two years, The Blade and the Fall is COMPLETE! I can hardly believe it. This is the longest work I have written and finished, even if it took longer than I intended. I want to thank you all from the bottom of my heart for your devotion and readership and encouraging comments all this time. It's truly meant so much to me. Thank you <3

For old times' sake, I hope to see you in the comments!

Lunch was something of an awkward affair. Conversation was stilted, the tension almost palpable in the air. Liu Qingge felt as though he could have cut it with Cheng Luan. Jinhai attempted to lighten the mood with a few silly jokes and boisterous stories about some of his adventures in the wider world, but even his normally unflappable upbeat demeanor began to falter when Liu Qingge’s parents refused to chuckle or crack a smile in response to their nephew’s antics. Liu Qingge suppressed a sigh; he would have to take his parents aside and speak with them after the meal was over. He couldn’t leave Willow Manor without smoothing things over with them. He needed a chance to explain his position, his perspective, and hope that they would be understanding. He had never meant to hurt them.

When the meal was concluded and everyone began to break into small groups and leave the main hall, Liu Qingge caught Shen Qingqiu’s eye. “I need to speak with my parents. I’ll catch up to you both when I’m finished.”

Shen Qingqiu nodded, his green eyes full of a gentle understanding. “Whatever you need to do, Qingge, we’ll be waiting for you.”

The words gave Liu Qingge a measure of comfort and steadiness, especially in the face of Luo Binghe’s guilty silence. The demon lord stood just behind his husband’s shoulder, his dark eyes downcast and broad shoulders sagging the slightest bit. No doubt he had noticed the mood at lunch and held himself responsible.

“My choices were my own, you know,” Liu Qingge murmured then, addressing Luo Binghe as he reached out to nudge the other man’s shoulder. Startled, Luo Binghe looked up and met his gaze. “None of this is your fault.”

Luo Binghe lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Maybe,” he answered noncommittally.

Liu Qingge leaned in to press a brief kiss against Luo Binghe’s cheek, his heart leaping at the knowledge that he didn’t have to hide anything anymore. It didn’t matter who saw the display of affection. It didn’t matter if anyone knew Binghe’s identity. They were free to be themselves now, free to be together. It seemed so easy in that moment; Liu Qingge wondered why he’d ever thought hiding things had been a good idea. “I love you,” he whispered near Luo Binghe’s ear, surprising them both at the natural way the words slipped out, unbidden, on the surge of his feelings. The moment hung in the air between them, suspended in stillness even as the world continued on all around them. Despite the presence of so many other people, this heartbeat of time belonged solely to them.

“Shishu…” Luo Binghe breathed, his gaze never leaving Liu Qingge’s even as his hand found Liu Qingge’s, their fingers entwining tightly. The demon lord looked amazed, humbled, as if he had never imagined his feelings might be returned. Liu Qingge offered him a small, shy smile, his cheeks heating. “You mean it?” Binghe’s voice was quiet, soft, full of a delicate hope as his dark eyes searched Liu Qingge’s face.

Liu Qingge took a steadying breath and nodded. “Yes.” And he knew with bone deep certainty that it was the truth, whole and simple. Luo Binghe, emperor of the demon realm, disciple of Cang Qiong, his one-time archnemesis, had captured his affection with his charm and devotion, his steadfastness and care. Luo Binghe had shown him time and time again that he was worthy of his trust. Liu Qingge thought that he could give Binghe his heart in much the same way he’d given it to Shen Qingqiu many years ago, with quiet but fierce loyalty.

That was just the way he loved people, after all.

A beat of silence passed between them before Luo Binghe’s lips stretched into a delighted smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling in an entirely endearing manner. Liu Qingge’s heart stuttered at the sight, warmth blooming in his chest. It was the same type of look he’d so often seen the demon lord direct at Shen Qingqiu, a look of pure happiness. It settled Liu Qingge’s soul, to know that his love was so wanted and so joyfully received.

“I love you too, Qingge,” Luo Binghe said breathlessly, still sounding a bit disbelieving. “I will do everything in my power to make you happy and content for the rest of your days, I promise you.”

Liu Qingge huffed softly, still smiling as he shook his head in fond exasperation. “I don’t doubt it,” he replied. “But this doesn’t mean I need waited on hand and foot.”

“Shishu-” Binghe began, immediately beginning to protest with brows furrowed. Liu Qingge held up a hand to forestall any further protestation.

“I know it’s your nature to serve those you love,” Liu Qingge said softly, squeezing the other man’s hand gently. “I’m much the same way. I know you feel like there’s things you need to make up for but there really isn’t. I want us to be equals, partners. Yes?”

Luo Binghe bit his lip, his eyes now glassy with the beginnings of tears, before nodding once, firmly. “Yes. I understand.”

“Good.” Liu Qingge let his shoulders relax, gave Binghe’s fingers another reassuring squeeze and then disentangled himself gently. “I should speak with my parents now.”

“Of course,” Luo Binghe agreed. He still appeared a bit shocked over the turn the day had taken. It would take him some time to process it, no doubt, especially the bit where Liu Qingge had so readily given him the absolution he’d been searching for. Hell, it would take a while for Liu Qingge himself to process the words and emotions of the last few minutes; he had just irrevocably altered the course of his future. The sentiment was out there and there was no taking it back now. Liu Qingge had no doubt that being loved by a heavenly demon meant nothing short of death would break the bond now shared between them. It was not in a demon’s nature to love lightly, nor was it in Liu Qingge’s either. They would be well-matched in passion, then.

Shen Qingqiu stepped close to Luo Binghe’s side, taking his husband’s elbow gently in his elegant fingers. His lips curved in a little happy smile, green eyes twinkling. His overall bearing screamed satisfaction at the recent confessions, no matter how spontaneous they had been. But when he spoke, he didn’t mention any of it, giving the two men he loved their privacy and their space with their own budding relationship. “Take however long you need, Shidi. Find us in the gardens later.”

“Thank you,” Liu Qingge murmured, knowing Shen Qingqiu would understand the several layers of meaning in those two words.

Shen Qingqiu inclined his head the slightest bit in acknowledgement before steering Luo Binghe toward the door. Mingyan and Jinhai were the last to trail out behind them, catching up to the couple at the threshold and engaging them in conversation. The doors of the hall thumped shut in their wake, leaving a thick quiet behind. It was only Liu Qingge and his parents now. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, flexing his fingers nervously. His hands were shaking the slightest bit. He desperately hoped his parents would be willing to listen, receptive to his explanations and apologies. His nerves as steadied as they possibly could be, Liu Qingge set his shoulders and turned to the table where Chen Mingzhu and Liu Yichen were still seated, heads bent together in a murmured exchange. They looked up as he approached, expressions filled with reserved surprise which morphed into open shock as Liu Qingge dropped to his knees before them, folding himself down until his forehead touched the worn floor of the main hall in a show of humble contriteness.

“Son! What are you doing?!” Liu Yichen’s voice was hoarse and raw, undercut by the scrape of his chair being shoved backwards as he apparently hastily got to his feet. Chen Mingzhu gasped loudly.

“I am humbly asking for your forgiveness,” Liu Qingge said steadily, his voice raised a bit louder than normal to be heard from his position on the floorboards. “I am sincerely offering apologies for everything that’s happened recently, for choosing to withhold information from you both regarding Luo Binghe’s identity. I have not been a filial son.” A wave of regret curled his fingers into fists where they were resting on the floor. He’d made some stupid decisions as of late, full of unruly emotion and poor judgment. He wished he could take them back; nothing was worth jeopardizing his relationship with his parents.

There was a beat of stunned silence before Liu Yichen spoke, sounding weary and sad. “Rise, Qingge. Didn’t I tell you that you need never bow to me again?”

Liu Qingge paused, torn between hiding where he was and heeding his father’s bidding to get up and face them. After a moment, he slowly pushed up until he was sitting back on his heels, ponytail askew over one shoulder and his hands folded in his lap. He raised his eyes to meet his father’s gaze.

“You do not need to ask for forgiveness,” Liu Yichen said quietly from where he stood next to his wife, one hand on her shoulder in a comforting grip. “You already have it.”

Liu Qingge let out a relieved breath. “I intended to tell you both the truth about Binghe before I returned to the sect. The attack at the Grove derailed that plan.”

“I appreciate that,” Yichen said, nodding smartly. “I also know that things have been stressful for you. You chose to withhold Lord Luo’s identity out of concern, not out of deceit.”

“Yes, that is true, and I never meant to cause you pain,” Liu Qingge added, a hint of fervency creeping into his tone. “I rather wanted to spare you both from it, instead.”

“We should be the ones shielding you from pain,” Chen Mingzhu spoke up then for the first time. Her voice trembled ever so slightly, her dark eyes pools of pleading. “You might be a grown man but we’re still your parents, dammit. Let us help you, Qingge.”

An all too familiar sting in Liu Qingge’s eyes preceded a press of emotion in his throat. He blinked the beginnings of the tears back and nodded. “Okay, Mama,” he agreed softly.

“Promise me that you’re truly happy with Lord Luo and I’ll let the matter drop until I hear otherwise,” Liu Yichen said then, his tone a bit stern but his features reflecting a deep caring and concern for his son’s wellbeing.

“I am happy with him, and safe,” Liu Qingge hurried to assure his parents. “He loves me, and he is fiercely loyal.”

Yichen sighed and nodded once. “Our clan understands the value of loyalty better than most. I will trust Lord Luo to always have your best interests at heart simply because you trust him to.”

“Thank you,” Liu Qingge murmured, moved by his father’s words, knowing they weren’t spoken lightly. “That means everything to me.”

“If you need aid in any way, however, know you can always call on us to be there,” Liu Yichen said, his features fittingly serious.

Liu Qingge let one corner of his mouth twitch upward ever so slightly. “I know. I won’t forget it.”

“We wish you every happiness in your life, Qingge,” Chen Mingzhu added. “That has never changed and never will.”

“I know, Mama. I hope you know how much I appreciate that.”

His mother’s lips curled in a small smile, the first Liu Qingge had seen from her all day. The sight lifted his heart even more, in hope that everything between them would indeed be alright, after all. “I expect an invitation to the wedding, of course. Even if it’s to be held in the demon realm. I’ve never been there but I’d be curious to see it for myself.”

Liu Qingge found himself blushing as his father made a noise of agreement. He hadn’t even begun to entertain ideas about marriage; he had only just confessed his love to Binghe, literally minutes ago! He still wasn’t certain how he felt about marriage in general, or his chances of obtaining it with either Luo Binghe or Shen Qingqiu. But if it were to happen, it went without saying that his family would be invited. “Of course, Mama,” he stammered, unable to quite meet her gaze as he fought the urge to hide behind his hair. One hand reflexively came up to mindlessly worry at the ends of his ponytail instead.

Chen Mingzhu cleared her throat, surely having noticed her son’s discomfiture. “No matter what happens, we will support you, Qingge,” she said softly.

Liu Qingge nodded, looking up to glance at each of his parents in turn, taking in the earnestness of their expressions, the kindness in their eyes. He took a long moment to simply look at them and commit their features to memory. It might be a long while before he saw them again once he left the manor. “I love you both,” he murmured, feeling suddenly that he needed to say it.

“As we love you, son,” Liu Yichen replied without a moment’s hesitation. Liu Qingge’s heart steadied further in this reassurance. Not that he had ever doubted their love for him; he had been lucky enough to know all his life that his parents cherished him. But it was still nice to hear the words, especially when he’d brought so much disappointment and strife in his wake recently. Liu Qingge thought back to his sister’s words from so many days past, that their parents would forgive him anything. It seemed she had been correct.

“I will keep you informed of all my travel plans and any changes in my health,” Liu Qingge promised solemnly, fully intending to never keep such details away from his parents again. For all the devotion they showed him, the least he could do was trust them with the important details of his life, without worry of judgment or fear of reprisal. His parents seemed satisfied with this vow, willing to believe that he would keep to his word. Their faith in him made Liu Qingge doubly determined to follow through.

Leaving the hall several minutes later, Liu Qingge felt lighter and more at peace than at any time in recent memory. All was finally right in the world. Maybe now he could finally relax like Mu Qingfang had instructed him to.

+++

Liu Qingge found Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu in the garden near the library, seated together on a wooden bench. They were obviously deep in conversation; Shen Qingqiu’s hands moved through the air animatedly, a folded fan clutched in one of them providing extra emphasis to whatever he was saying. Luo Binghe’s shiny curls reflected the sunlight as he shook his head in response to his husband’s words. Liu Qingge paused at the garden entrance, looking them over for signs of stress, but neither of them seemed angry or frustrated. They were just talking, though the discussion seemed important. He breathed a sigh of relief before making his way toward them, feeling a twinge of remorse for the imminent disruption. The crunch of gravel underfoot drew their attention, Luo Binghe looking up first. He smiled widely when he caught sight of Liu Qingge.

“Shishu! Did everything go all right with your parents?” He slid across the bench to make room for the other man to squeeze in between them.

Liu Qingge nodded, letting a small smile play at the corners of his lips. “Yes. All is well. I can finally relax.” He hesitated before the bench, still a bit unsure of seemingly interrupting the couple. Luo Binghe huffed, noticing his reticence, and patted the bench in invitation. Liu Qingge acquiesced, seating himself between them without further fuss. He was learning that Luo Binghe never offered anything unless he truly meant to.

Shen Qingqiu immediately leaned over to press a sweet kiss to Liu Qingge’s cheek, his delicate fingers finding Liu Qingge’s knee and squeezing gently at the same time. “I’m very happy everything is sorted with your parents,” he said, tone earnest. “Though I had little doubt such would be the case.”

“That’s the general sentiment of seemingly everyone in this manor,” Liu Qingge muttered.

“Your parents love you and want the best for you,” Luo Binghe commented, shrugging lightly. “Seems easy enough to understand, for everyone except you, Qingge.”

“You think so little of yourself, Qingge, it’s absolutely criminal,” Shen Qingqiu declared, brandishing his fan for emphasis.

Liu Qingge blushed, glancing down to pick at the detailing on his bracer. “I’m working on it,” he said softly, sheepishly. Luo Binghe’s strong fingers were impossibly gentle when they slid between Liu Qingge’s own, disrupting the agitated worrying, twining together in a comforting hold. They sat in a beat of silence, then Liu Qingge continued, “I told my parents I would inform them of my travel plans before I leave the manor.” It was a statement, but it had to be obvious he was fishing for information as to what the other two men had decided to do in regards to their own plans.

Shen Qingqiu sighed. “I know I told you a while ago that we were disagreeing on whether or not I should accompany Binghe to the demon realm. After some more discussion, I’ve decided to return to the sect with Mu Qingfang so we can report to the sect leader together. After that, I will wait for Binghe’s word to join him in the demon realm at a time and place he deems appropriate.”

“I will depart for the demon realm in the morning,” Luo Binghe said then, his tone fittingly serious. “I can’t afford to wait to begin following leads on the slave cuff.” He paused for a moment, as if steeling himself for rejection, before asking, “Shishu, I was hoping you could join me? You’re an excellent tracker, and there’s no one I’d trust more to have my back out in the wilds.” His dark eyes were hopeful when he turned them on Liu Qingge, liquid pools of cautious expectation.

Liu Qingge let out a relieved breath. He had hoped he might be allowed to remain in one or both of their company for a while longer upon departing Willow Manor; the fact that Luo Binghe had brought it up himself saved him from having to ask and risk becoming a nuisance. Despite the fact that love had been professed on all fronts, Liu Qingge was still keenly aware that he was both a newcomer and an outsider to the couple’s dynamic. He didn’t want to risk ending up somewhere he wasn’t wanted. He didn’t think his heart could take it, after everything.

“I’m happy to go with you and lend my skills,” Liu Qingge assured Luo Binghe, meeting his gaze with equal hopefulness.

The demon lord smiled in that way that always made Liu Qingge’s heart stutter. “It’s settled then.”

“Shidi, I can see that Yang Yixuan is returned to your peak safely and settled into taking charge of operations there,” Shen Qingqiu offered.

“Please do,” Liu Qingge said with a smart nod. “I know he’ll be in good hands with you.” He paused, considering, chewing his lower lip pensively. “I’ll have to talk with him beforehand. He’ll likely be resistant at first to returning to the peak without me, but he’ll be safest there.”

Shen Qingqiu nodded, lips pursed thoughtfully. “What would you like me to tell Yue Qingyuan about what happened here?”

Liu Qingge lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “Honestly, you can tell him as much or as little as you care to. He’s aware of my health issues already, so there’s nothing to hide in that regard.”

An expression crossed Shen Qingqiu’s face that made Liu Qingge certain he’d just confirmed the other man’s suspicions about the nature of his exchange with the sect leader in the garden pavilion, all those long weeks ago. “Fair enough. I suppose it makes sense that Qingyuan be in the know about all of it. The sect depends on you for its security, after all.”

“Qingfang wrote a monthly report on my condition for the sect leader,” Liu Qingge said quietly. “It was a source of endless frustration for all of us that there never seemed to be any improvements. Treatments only ever brought temporary relief. Yue Qingyuan will be relieved to hear there’s finally been a breakthrough.” Though the details and exact nature of that breakthrough would likely remain unsaid.

Shen Qingqiu sighed heavily. “I see I have more apologies to make,” he murmured, his voice colored with a distinct note of remorse. “My actions affected Qingfang and the sect leader negatively, just as they did you, Shidi.”

Liu Qingge made a noise of vague agreement. He hated to add to his lover’s guilt, but he also knew just how extensively the damage ran throughout the sect. For that reason alone, he couldn’t dismiss the sentiment out of hand. “I know they’ll both be receptive to talking with you about it,” he said instead.

“You think so?” Shen Qingqiu sounded dubious.

“Yes,” Liu Qingge said firmly. “Qingfang has missed your companionship, and well, Sect Leader adores you.” He caught Shen Qingqiu’s eye. “Talk to them, Qingqiu.”

Qing Jing’s lord took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “I will.” Liu Qingge couldn’t help but notice the other man was squeezing his folded fan so tightly his knuckles were turning white. Liu Qingge well understood the anxiety of difficult conversations; he’d been having many of them himself lately. He also knew it was something Shen Qingqiu would have to do on his own, forging ahead to right the wrongs of the past six years.

A comfortable silence descended between the three of them, each man undoubtedly lost in his own thoughts. Perhaps Luo Binghe was thinking ahead to the work he needed to do in the demon realm, Shen Qingqiu about the conversations in his near future. Liu Qingge pondered recent events. He couldn’t have imagined when he set out from the sect weeks ago that things would play out as they had, that his past would manifest itself in such a real and immediate way, or that his deepest and most painful secrets would end up dredged up from the depths of his memory. He couldn’t have anticipated that his most vulnerable insecurities would be dissected, all of them acknowledged, some of them laid to rest. Most extraordinary of all, he would never in a million years have guessed he would be departing Willow Manor with not one, but two, lovers. Life was strange like that.

He still carried baggage and trauma, scars both seen and unseen. Those things couldn’t be shed overnight. But for the first time in decades, he felt as though he could finally look at them and slowly begin to make peace with them. That fact alone felt like progress. He took comfort in the knowledge that no matter what the future held, he could always seek refuge here with his family and find support among people who were willing and able to help him carry his trauma and soothe the old wounds. The last weeks had taught him many things, and this lesson was not least among them.

The garden around them was quiet, undisturbed except for the bushes and ornamental grasses whispering in the breeze. Liu Qingge watched them sway for a time, letting his mind go blissfully blank. Best to appreciate this peaceful moment for what it was before meeting whatever awaited him and Luo Binghe in the demon realm. Adventure, chaos, political intrigue, clan conflicts, anything was possible. Liu Qingge knew he would face it shoulder to shoulder with Binghe, Cheng Luan in hand, and his chin held high.

He was the War God of Bai Zhan Peak, after all.