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In the distance the darkened sky glows with a single spot of orange. Flames curl upwards and a dark plume of smoke rises from the burning building. The small outlines of people gathering around the Qiu manner can barely be distinguished from where Shen Jiu stands looking down on the town from the hilltop. The wind whips across his back, dragging his singed robes outwards as though summoning him back to the building that was his personal hell.
“Impressive.” Wu Yanzi says beside him. Shen Jiu doesn’t look at him. He just stares down at the destruction he created with his own hands. “I wasn’t sure you’d be capable of it.”
“I’m capable of it.” Shen Jiu replies. “Don’t question my capabilities.”
Far below two new figures join the crowd watching the fire grow. He can see a few people running into the flames. It’s unclear if they’re running in to steal or to aid. He doesn’t want to know.
Shen Jiu finally averts his eyes. He picks up his tiny bag and says, “Let’s go.”
“No.” Wu Yanzi says and turns Shen Jiu back around to face the flames. “You watch the destruction you’ve created. It’s your power and you won’t turn your back on it.”
So Shen Jiu stands there with his shizun’s hand on his shoulder making him watch the manor burn. They watch through the night until the entire sky lights gold with sunrise, obscuring the orange glow with nature’s beauty. By the time the sun has risen the fire has mostly faded into smoking rubble and the crowd dispersed save a few entering the building to explore the damage.
A dot of a person runs at a sprint to the streets to the gates of the manner. Although the form is small, Shen Jiu watches them drop to their knees. He faintly hears a heart wrenching cry that reminds of him of someone he wants to forget.
He decides it can't be him, so it must be someone who cared about one of the Qiu’s and not wanting to think of his captors, Shen Jiu tries to turn away again. This time Wu Yanzi allows it and the two begin to walk.
As they walk Shen Jiu says, “I want to form a core as fast as possible.”
“That depends entirely on you.”
“I’m capable.”
“I mean whether or not you can pay me long enough. Or earn your keep.”
Shen Jiu falls silent. He took money. As he walked through the halls of the Qiu manor and killed all the men, he took all the money he could. But even so he doesn’t know if he took enough.
He demands, “I want to cultivate faster than possible.”
Wu Yanzi laughs at the demanding child so full of ambition. Shen Jiu can’t tell if it’s patronizing or affectionate and in the end he doesn’t care. He just wants to find himself a new life, one in which no one can touch him ever again.
“In that case it depends on how much you’re willing to sacrifice and how much risk you’re willing to take.”
“Any. All of them. I don’t care.”
Shen Jiu travels with Wu Yanzi. On the weeks they travel over rural country Wu Yanzi begins Shen Jiu on his cultivation path. He teaches him sword maneuvers without a sword, assuring him next time they’re in a city he’ll allow the boy to buy one. In the meantime he gives Shen Jiu a fan and a thin dagger with a blade the length of his hand to practice with.
Shen Jiu looks at the offering and wants to scoff at the pathetic blade made by a commoner’s hand and not even a cultivator’s forge. But within the dense forest they travel through he has no right to refuse a weapon. Doing so would only delay his cultivation. So he accepts the knife whose hilt and sheath is carved with wintersweet flowers and begins to practice what Wu Yanzi shows him even if they are meant for a better blade.
He practices every day in every moment they are not traveling. Shen Jiu has ambitions of power and freedom over his own life, therefore the self punishing way he takes it for himself feel natural. He trains until he collapses only to sit on the ground and meditate or read the few papers handed to him.
Ever so slowly, far slower than Shen Jiu would like, he feels his spiritual veins forming. He can feel the early stages of core formation warming his stomach. He can feel power moving through him, but that power isn’t the spiritual energy weakly moving through him, but the fact that with it he has total control of his own life.
After several months, Shen Jiu and Wu Yanzi make their way to a city. Although the city is refined at first glance he can easily see the things regular people cannot: the discarded food piles with the best pieces already picked away, the small spaces down allies that have goods piled up leaving just enough space for a child to run through at a crouch but an adult cannot follow, the flickerings of children running at night, whispering amongst each other who to attack and steal from to earn their keep.
Shen Jiu can’t help but feel smug that he is no longer one of them. He marches into the teahouse alongside his master and sets coin on the table, demanding to be seated like any respected cultivator. The pair are seated and brought a rich smelling tea with a dark honey only like that Shen Jiu would have when Qiu Haitang offered him a taste of her cooking. He forces himself to pour his master’s tea before his own.
“We won’t stay here long.” Wu Yanzi explains between blowing the steam off the top of his cup. “Like with you I intend to arrange a stand on the outskirts of town and test people’s potential for cultivation. One day. Perhaps two at most. I don’t expect to find anyone as talented as you.”
Shen Jiu hides his smile behind his cup of tea. He always has been the most talented. He was talented when living on the streets and finding the most food for himself and on the rare occasion Qi-ge. He was also the best in scrapes and fights, usually winning or at least not losing severely. He can’t help but shiver when he recalled Qiu Jianluo telling him You’re really quite talented picking up writing, A-Jiu. Come, sit here and show me how skilled you are.
Shen Jiu takes a too large gulp of tea that burns on the way down his throat but chases away the chill of his memories.
He changes the topic, insisting, “I want to buy a sword. A proper one made by cultivators.”
Wu Yanzi contemplates before saying, “I’m sure you may find one here, but you might not. If you don’t there will be spirit stones for sale. Buy one of those to add to your wintersweet knife to make do.”
Shen Jiu scowls but does not argue with his master. Being wandering cultivators their lives are much harder than those who join a sect proper, who can simply walk to their forges and pick a powerful sword and follow an easy path to ascension.
All proper cultivators are cheats that way, getting what they want without a single struggle or worry. It's probably by Qi-ge forgot him so easily if he really did find a sect.
The two part ways in agreement to meet that night back at the inn room they share. Wu Yanzi to test cultivation potential and Shen Jiu to earn enough money for the room and dinner, as well as buy a sword.
He decides the sword is most important. He quickly moves through the streets of the city looking for any signs of weapons dealers or forges or cultivators in general. But he can’t find any. Even when he swallows his instincts and his pride and asks around, no one can offer a place for Shen Jiu to buy himself a sword to practice cultivation that does not require traveling several days to the east towards Hua Huan Palace. He’s fairly certain his master won’t allow that. So Shen Jiu begrudgingly paws through a basket of spirit stones in a shop, flipping them over and examining them carefully. He tries to channel his meager energy through them to see how they interact before picking five to compare price and aesthetics.
He weighs two stones carefully. One is a large but pale green jade stone with a streak of impurity while the one is a jadeite stone smaller than the size of his pinky nail that the shopkeep assures is the finest quality. Both would cost more money than he should dare hand over, but to have a blade that can hold spiritual power will help his cultivation far more than he believes the extra months with Wu Yanzi would.
He ends up buying the smaller stone and hands over his long, narrow dagger to the shopkeep to have it inlaid amongst the flower engravings.
He waits on the stoop of the shop for his blade to be returned to him. He can’t help but pick at the shrub next to the door, aimlessly plucking leaves. As the time passes he grows more and more bored until he channels a little bit of energy into the leaf and flicks it. To his shock, the leaf flies through the air with a high whizzing sound, cutting a ribbon that hangs from a display across the busy road.
“Ah!” Shen Jiu jumps to his feet in shock and excitement. He grabs another leaf and flicks it too. It too whizzes through the air and embeds itself in a wooden beam of a cart. Shen Jiu can’t help but beam to himself with pride of what he’s figured out on his own. He truly is making progress in his cultivation and is finally holding hope for his future rather than being dragged down by the past.
He spent so long thinking he had to wait for Qi-ge to come back and save him, when really he only needed to save himself. Like all those years on the streets, he should have just focused on himself because when he focuses on himself he has the ambition and power to do what he needs to. Waiting for others to help him will only lead to his own demise.
The blade is returned to him after another hour. He inspects it carefully, feeling a little more fond of the little dagger than before. He sheaths it in the leather case he belts to his hip and happily trots through town, snatching himself a bite to eat from a stall as he walks and chewing on his prize.
He has actual cultivation now. Not a formed core by any means, but he might be daring enough to believe he might have entered a mid stage of core formation instead of just early. Or perhaps in the early stage instead of non-existent. Either way, he’s made a major leap today and it fills him with pride.
Returning to the inn he spots Wu Yanzi surrounded by a small group of people. He knows exactly what he’s doing, as he too had been drawn by his siren’s call and offered coin in exchange for having his potential to form a core tested. That day he watched person after person be turned away only to learn of his own potential. A potential that has been realized today. He stands by and watches for a moment as his master wraps his arm around a young man to pull him aside, talking closely to him so that others won’t hear.
From a distance Shen Jiu’s stomach churns at the idea of traveling with another boy. Especially since this boy seems older than him, a bit closer to Qiu Jianluo’s age. If Shen Jiu was on the edge of beginning cultivation too late then this man surely is. He can only assume the boy his shizun’s arm is wrapped around must have deep pockets and a desperation to be a cultivator but he still doesn’t like it. He decides that if his shizun accepts this man as his disciple Shen Jiu will have to beat him to a bloody pulp to assert his dominance and role as shixiong despite being younger just like he would with the other streetrat kids that joined their community.
Especially if that man is expected to share a room with him.
That night Shen Jiu sits in Wu Yanzi’s room in the inn cleaning his sword and his own blade now imbued with a tiny spiritual stone. He hasn’t yet told his shizun about finding the stone nor his own leap in cultivation. He wants to hear about Wu Yanzi’s day first and if he’s going to recruit the young man Shen Jiu saw him wrapping his arm around.
Sure enough, Wu Yanzi eventually says, “Tomorrow another will be joining us on our travels.”
Shen Jiu frowns deeply and keeps his head down. He spits, “Who?”
“A clever young fellow.” Wu Yanzi says. “Given you’ve stagnated in forming a core I think it’ll help for you to have someone to train with.”
Shen Jiu almost snaps that he hasn’t stagnated and instead broke through a major barrier today but something in the dismissive way Wu Yanzi says it makes Shen Jiu spitefully shut his mouth, not wanting to taint his own accomplishment with such disdain.
Wu Yanzi asks, “How many nights did you pay for our rooms? We’ll move on then if we know whether the boy can afford to join us..”
Shen Jiu hisses “Two” and sets his master’s sword aside in favor of polishing his own dagger. He sends a sharp burst of spiritual energy through his fingers into the cold metal, causing a small patch of rust to peel away.
It goes unnoticed by his shizun.
He doesn’t need Wu Yanzi. Not to escape Qiu Jianluo and not to begin cultivating. He only needed a push to take his own life back even though he never had his own life to begin with.
In that moment Shen Jiu decides to stay with Wu Yanzi only until half the funds he stole from Qiu manor are spent, then he should have enough cultivation to make his own way and figure it out himself. Qi-ge always said he was resourceful and could probably escape the streets and slavers if he wanted to. The problem was that he escaped the slavers into the far worse clutches of Qiu Jianluo.
If Qi-ge could get out and make it on his own, find a life so good he would forget entirely about his didi xiao Jiu, then Shen Jiu knows he can too.
So he stays.
For now.
Several months pass. Shen Jiu is wary near his new shidi. Made to sleep in the same room as the older boy he takes to sleeping with his wintersweet dagger strapped to his thigh, ready to grab at a moment’s notice. But unlike Shen Jiu, the older boy has no real chance of cultivation. He only has enough money to buy their rooms and fill their bellies. It disgusts Shen Jiu that his master would accept someone like him and pretend as though this nothing and himself were the same.
The three travel through cities and along the outskirts of sects. They past under Cang Qiong Mountain. For a moment Shen Jiu considers abandoning Wu Yanzi when he orders his disciples stay away from sects. Shen Jiu knows why he does it. He’s come to realize that Qiu Jianluo calling the man a scam artist for the desperate is true, as much as he doesn’t want to admit that he’d been tricked. His shizun only has minimal cultivation and teaches techniques that create an unstable foundation that clearly carry a high risk of qi deviating. But to Shen Jiu that’s enough. He just needs a semi-stable foundation and he can do the rest himself.
Besides, he doesn’t want to step foot in any sects anyways. A small part of him wonders if Qi-ge fulfilled his promise and found a sect to begin cultivating and that nasty little part of him hates the idea that if he did he decided not to return. A horrible little voice in the back of his mind almost wishes his Qi-ge were dead because it would be easier than being discarded.
So he travels with his shizun past the mountain base and far away.
As summer approaches the three save money by camping outside the villages they approach rather than finding inns. Wu Yanzi has already burned through all of Shen Jiu’s shidi’s money and Shen Jiu keeps what few coins he has a secret tucked against his breast like the dagger strapped to his thigh. He plans to leave soon. He just plans to use his shizun as a convenient travel partner until he finds himself a town he can see himself settling in. One where he thinks he can dispose of any government official and ensure his own position, or else one with a sect that is a nonentity to learn from and undo the damage his shizun has done to his core with his unstable cultivation techniques.
Shen Jiu goes to sleep by the fire first, leaving the other two to take watch. It’s not that he trusts them, but rather that they came across a terrifying beast and the other two were so useless Shen Jiu had to fight it back on his own. He was tempted to throw his shidi into the mouth of the beast and run, but the cowardly bastard fled before Shen Jiu could grab his collar and shove him. So now he’s tired and injured and uncomfortable with the dried blood on his leg but there are no streams to wash it off in.
The fire has died out when Shen Jiu wakes, only a few hot coals still glow orange.
“Fucking useless.” He mutters to himself. Someone was supposed to wake him to take watch. Or at least keep the fire up. Instead both men fell asleep. Shen Jiu uses the walking stick he needed all day to leverage himself up, dragging himself a short ways away through the darkness to take a piss and find firewood.
He barely makes it a few feet before realizing it wasn’t the cold that woke him, but rather the unnerving feeling of being watched. A feeling he was trained to wake for in the Qiu manor. Shen Jiu spins around holding his stick out like a bo staff feeling on edge.
There’s a crack in the woods of a stick breaking and he spins to face it. He slowly backs up towards the other two intending to kick them awake and tell them he thinks they’re being watched. Or to grab his shizun’s sword and see if he can support himself flying and leave the other two far below on the ground. But he doesn’t have time for any of that when six figures fling themselves out of the dark at him, grabbing him and twisting his arms. He tries to scream and bite and flail but a sharp pain meets the side of his head and all encompassing darkness overwhelms him.
“He’s pretty.” One voice says. Its owner runs a rough finger under Shen Jiu’s jaw to tilt his head up and get a better look at him. Shen Jiu jerks awake. He has to blink a few times to clear the red of blood tinting his vision from the head wound. He jerks forward and bites the hand touching him hard, not letting go until he tastes blood, even when the man’s free hand tries to slap him hard enough to knock him loose.
“Feisty!” Another person said and grabs Shen Jiu by the hair, jerking him around. “Looks like he’s got a good mouth on him.”
“Get the fuck off me!” Shen Jiu snarls and spits the blood of the first man onto the ground. They’re in a confined space that jostles every few seconds. A carriage. They’re in a worn down carriage. Shen Jiu is bound at his hands and feet in a carriage being taken somewhere unknown. Primal fear floods him and he fights harder. He grinds his wrists against the rope behind him trying to break free. He doesn’t care when he feels the rope tearing at his skin. He’d rather have no skin than be trapped with slavers again. No matter who they sell him off to there are no good fates.
“There’s an idea.” The man he bit says wiping down his hand. “I’m sure we can find a brothel to sell him to. Pretty thing like that might pick us a pretty penny.”
Shen Jiu’s eyes widen and he kicks harder against the ropes binding him. He can feel he still has his wintersweet dagger bound to his thigh. If he can just get to it he can kill both these men in a moment’s notice. “Let me go!” He hisses as he kicks.
The bigger man pins his shoulder to the back of the bench so he’s trapped like a bug under a needle.
“Listen pretty boy. We’re going to make a coin off you and my friend is right that selling you is our best bet. Only question is how much you’re worth. If you have enough value we might take you to one of of those courtesan training places, but if you’re worth less than the food you eat then we’re going to dump you off at–”
“I can read!” Shen Jiu quickly insists, his mind grasping through his panic for any straws that might save him or buy him time to escape. Anything Qiu Jianluo taught him. “I can read and write. And I know poetry. And chess! I know how to play chess. And qin. I started learning to play the qin too! My brother in law said I have good hands for the qin!”
The two men exchange a look before one demands, “None of this brother in law bullshit, understand? If you’re worth anything to one of those classy places you can’t be married. Understand?”
At will, big shiny tears fill his eyes and roll down his cheeks. He doesn’t like begging but right now it’s his only option.
“Right.” Shen Jiu quickly says. He can feel a cold sweat creeping down his spine. He can only use his words to get himself out of this situation. He’s clever and has a sharp tongue but right now his brain is dulled. All he can do is insist, “Right. No. It was just engaged to be wed. Not married. I’m not married. Not even engaged. Just serving their household. Just a servant.”
“Good.”
The two men lean back and pin Shen Jiu between them, crushing him as the carriage rocks this way and that. Shen Jiu tries not to shake with fear. He long ago decided fear was a useless emotion and anger is better because at least anger can be channeled into action. But bound and entirely powerless, all he can do is feel fear.
They travel for a day and through the evening. Only when it’s truly dark out does the carriage slow to a stop. The first man gets out and drags Shen Jiu with him into a side street. He half lifts, half drags Shen Jiu through a door on a side entrance of a large building with silk hanging from every window and soft music drifting over the surrounding streets. Above him he hears a woman laugh gently and a man laugh uproariously in response.
Shen Jiu is dragged into a back room where he’s made to sit on the floor. The larger man stands over him making sure he doesn’t move. Shen Jiu can only assume his partner is speaking with the owners about his price.
He wants to murder someone. In his heart he promises he’ll burn this place to the ground too and after he’ll find these men who have taken him and carve out their hearts with his wintersweet blade.
A door opens and a middle aged woman wearing soft pinks and oranges walks in. She has a sway to her step but her face is cold.
“Why would you bring someone in such a condition?” She asks. Her voice is thick with frustration at the bloodied, broken boy on the ground in front of her. “Just having something like this step foot in my song house would be enough to ruin my whole reputation. We treat our girls well here.”
“Good thing he’s not a girl,” the man who’d been talking to her jokes and she shoots him a look that makes him whither. “Look if you don’t want him we’ll take him to a whore house that does. Plenty want pretty boys like him.”
She ignores the two men and crouches down in front of Shen Jiu who bares his teeth ready to bite her too. She says “I’m Auntie Sunu,” and reaches out to untie him. The bigger man jumps forward to stop her but her glower halts him mid movement. “While he’s here he’ll be treated with respect. Like I said, I have a reputation to uphold. You men can leave while I determine his value.”
The two men grumble but leave the room.
The moment Shen Jiu is free of the ropes he tries to scramble to his feet and pull up his robes to grab his dagger but his arms and legs are numb and he only slumps to the side.
“Calm yourself.” Auntie Sunu orders in a strict but not unkind tone. Shen Jiu doesn’t trust it in the slightest. “I have no interest in buying you to work here. Men do not do well in my song house. But those slavers bought you from your master and won’t leave without you if I don’t buy you. So you have a choice right now: let me buy you and work off your debt scrubbing floors and cooking meals, or leave with those men again to somewhere far worse than this.”
Shen Jiu’s chest rises and falls heavily. His eyes dart around the room without locking on her. Only a few times has he been this frantic and let his composure fall away entirely. He spits, “How can I know you’re not lying?”
“You can’t. But your only other option is to kill me with that dagger strapped to your thigh and that won’t end well for you. That I can guarantee. So, work off your debt in my song house, or be sold somewhere else.” She crosses her arms and waits for the cornered cat to stop puffing and hissing.
“Fine!” Shen Jiu says after a long time. If she’s not a cultivator he can get away somehow. And it’s better than being tied up again and certainly better than being sold elsewhere.
Auntie Sunu stands and helps him to his feet. He jerks himself out of her hands and she lets him move away from her. She guides him out of the room stopping only to give a muscular woman a pouch of coins to give the slavers. She then leads Shen Jiu through backrooms to a room with a bath heated with spiritual stones.
“These baths are usually reserved for clients and those who serve them. You will not be using these baths ever again. However, given your injures and the fact I can’t have someone covered in bruises seen walking my halls, their rejuvenating properties will help you heal faster.”
Shen Jiu quickly strips with his back to the woman and climbs into the smallest of the tubs. The hot, herbal water burns his cuts and he can’t help but hiss at the pain. Auntie Sunu pulls up a chair a short ways away from the tub and begins to speak despite Shen Jiu refusing to say a word.
“The Frosted Lotus Song House is not a brothel but a house of courtesans. All our girls are trained in the arts of song, dance, poetry, and refined entertainment. Some of the girls, should they choose, do serve in the pleasures of the body, although that requires additional training. People travel across the world to visit, cultivator and non cultivator alike. Unlike most similar establishments, we encourage our girls to cultivate if that is the potential beyond just what is needed for dual cultivation, meaning a small few are skilled in that aspect as well, although currently we don't have any cultivators with us.”
Shen Jiu side eyes her and asks, “Why are you telling me this? I’m not going to work like that.”
“No.” She agrees. “But even if you work in the kitchens and never see a client’s face you will know the reputation of those you serve and how you are expected to carry yourself from today forward. Given the price I had to pay for your head I estimate it’ll take you six years to pay off your debts to me.”
Hearing this Shen Jiu stiffens. Six years trapped here. He lowers his hand from the soap he was about to pick up and drops his hand back into the water to merely rub off the dried blood, unwilling to add even a minute more of debt to his six years.
“Use it. I’m not charging you for soap. Or food or lodging. Purely what you cost me just now. They said you can read and write and have a core which is why the price on your head is so high. Is that true?”
Shen Jiu side eyes her again and considers lying but finds himself admitting, “Yes.”
Auntie Sunu makes a contemplative face clearly wondering how someone with a core, even one only partially formed, got taken by slavers like that but she doesn’t say anything. Instead she lets Shen Jiu bathe before taking him to a room and introducing him to the three girls he’ll be sharing his sleeping quarters with.
Five years later
Shen Jiu leans against the back of the bed, lightly singing a lazy song. He runs his fingers through the hair of the man resting his head on Shen Jiu’s lap, making the man let out a happy exhale.
The man says, "Play the qin for me again. The first song you played."
Shen Jiu leans in and softly replies, "That would mean getting up, Yan-ge. Is that what you want?"
He makes a disappointed noise and says, "No" so Shen Jiu resumes singing.
As he sings he looks around his room. Only recently has he been earning enough money to buy proper decor that makes him fill with pride. Paintings and pottery and a deep green rug on the floor that makes him happy how his toes sink into it when he walks over it barefoot.
Only three months ago was he given his own room rather than the shared room he spent the last few years sleeping with his jiejies.
A little more than a year ago Shen Jiu approached Auntie Sunu about beginning courtesan training. He saw how much respect they held both inside the song house and out. He saw the gifts they received and most important, control over how others treated them. He wanted that. So despite Auntie Sunu insisting that he needs remain behind the scenes because boys lose her money and him being too old to begin such delicate refineries, Shen Jiu insisted he at least be allowed to attempt her rigorous training of the arts and conversation. It was only when he reminded her that he has a partially formed core, fragile as it is after so much misinstruction, that she agreed and he joined lessons.
Courtesans with golden cores are rare as most would rather join a sect than sing and dance and converse.
Shen Jiu excelled in his training. He forced himself to. He wouldn't suffer the indignity of being told he isn't enough. He sat and transcribed poetry from sun up to sun down until it was too dark to see, sang until his voice was raw, played the pipa and qin until his fingers bled and practiced chess until his head hurt. And when he was done practicing he dragged himself through the song house to the kitchens to help prep dinner or through the halls on his hands and knees to scrub the floors after clients have left.
Seven months ago he passed his exams set by Auntie Sunu to become a courtesan. All the girls gathered around him in excitement when he passed. A few of them took him out to buy new robes entirely of his own choosing instead of what is supplied by the song house. He wandered through the shop and settled on flowing robes of soft green and white. A-li and Duan-jie excitedly helped him dress and put up his hair in the shop so he could look in the bronze mirror and see how he looks before buying the robes for him.
Shen Jiu stared at his reflection for a long time. He couldn't believe it was him. He's nothing like the streetrat caught by slavers or the boy under Qiu Jianluo's thumb. He looked like how he always imagined he would in his darkest days, but that was always a far fetched dream. He's tall and straight like an old growth of bamboo. His long hair flows down his back except for what is tied up and the two strands framing his sharp face. If anyone were to look at him they'd be unable to tell if he were a courtesan or scholar or immortal.
His jies bought him the extravagant robes and he bought them all lunch before returning to the song house in the evening where Duan-jie painted a delicate huadian on his forehead and Shen Jiu sat in one of the public rooms to serve tea and entertained for the first time.
It didn't take long after that for Shen Jiu to prove himself a worthy courtesan, drawing in audiences from all over to see the budding beauty. His reputation of his stern beauty, sharp tongue and powerful song spread quickly but it was his dance that drew in crowds to watch in awe.
He'd be lying if he said he didn't force himself to gain a reputation in the hopes that Qi-ge would hear about him and come for him just like he promised. But Qi-ge never comes so he keeps lying to himself.
The man resting in his lap now remains still listening to him sing. He shifts a little on Shen Jiu’s lap but only to get more comfortable. Shen Jiu normally doesn't allow such contact. He rarely allows clients to touch him and he only extends touch so far as grazing hands or washing hair unless the mood truly strikes him. But this wealthy man was one of his first clients and saved him from a qi deviation without telling Auntie Sunu when he first started entertaining clients in private rooms, so Shen Jiu offers him the tiniest of leeway. Everything is an exchange after all. He knows this too well.
He did also recently nearly cut off another man's hand with the blade strapped to his thigh for daring grab at him as he danced and Shen Jiu knows the word has spread that the budding beauty doesn't mind getting his hands bloody.
When Shen Jiu finishes the song he doesn’t keep singing. Instead he leans over to pick up a pitted winter plum and presses it to Master Yan's lips. Master Yan opens them and lets Shen Jiu place the fruit on his tongue. He slowly chews and swallows.
“A-Jiu…” He says, opening his eyes to look up at Shen Jiu. There’s a softness in his eyes but beneath that softness a yearning for something more.
Shen Jiu presses a finger to his lips. He looks down the point of his nose on the man and in a cold voice asks, “Did I say you could speak?” The man shakes his head and Shen Jiu pats his cheek saying, “Good boy” before he begins his next song.
Another reason why he can stand Master Yan so close: he wants to be told what to do and does it. Shen Jiu likes having that authority and rewards the man by letting him nap on his lap.
After another song Shen Jiu finally says, “You may speak now.”
Master Yan sits up and takes Shen Jiu’s hands into his own, cupping them and enclosing around them entirely.
“A-Jiu, my precious A-Jiu. Would you ever consider letting me buy your freedom? You can come live with me. You saw my property. You loved sitting by the pond and watching the fish with me. It would be a good life. What do you think, A-Jiu. Let me buy you?”
Shen Jiu doesn’t jerk his hands back at the thought of being bought and sold again, but only just. Instead he looks down on the desperate looking man despite being shorter. Men and women alike often offer to buy his debts from Auntie Sunu so he may be free, but what they fail to realize that within the Frosted Lotus Song House Shen Jiu has the most freedom he’s ever known. More than that, he has authority. Authority to train those girls who enter and dismiss those he deems not worthy of setting foot in the song house. Why would he give up the power he has scraped and clawed for so someone else may hold the papers of his debt and he begin again?
He’s even considered staying after his debt is repaid.
He coldly says, “You couldn’t afford me.”
“I could!” The man inches closer on his kneels to grovel. “I could! My brother died a year ago and my father passed last month. All my family’s wealth is in my hands now! Whatever debts you owe Madam Sunu can be cleared. You won’t have to dance for anyone but me.”
Shen Jiu pulls his hands away and steps off the bed. His long robes of layers upon layers of sheer whites and greens glide out behind him. He walks to the tabled arranged to serve tea and makes himself a cup before turning around to face the man. He takes a sip looking down on the man to make him feel small.
“A-Jiu. What would it take for you to just consider it?”
Shen Jiu contemplates for a moment before lowering his cup. “I would consider it…” The man’s eyes light up at his words. “Just consider, if you helped dispose of an unpleasant client who makes my girls feel unsafe leaving the house alone after dark. A Xue Heqing. Have you heard of him?”
“No. But I can find him!”
“Good. Encourage him to leave our town and I’ll begin to consider your offer. But now you should leave. I perform tonight and would like time to prepare.”
Master Yan slides off the bed and hurries to kneel in front of Shen Jiu. “Are you sure you don’t need help getting ready?”
“No.” Shen Jiu lifts his foot and steps lightly on the man’s hand as a warning. “You can go. Don’t forget what I said about Xue Heqing.”
With that his suiter leaves and Shen Jiu is free to enjoy a moment alone. He leans back in his padded chair and sips his tea before removing his robes meant for keeping clients company and pulling on clothes meant for dancing. He then sits on the luxurious rug he bought with his own earnings and begins stretching his arms and legs, running through his warm ups to prepare for several hours of dance before an audience and before a select few guests arriving at the song house for a political meeting late in the night whom he will also sing and dance for.
Or he would be alone getting ready if not for Auntie Sunu stepping in to help brush back his long hair and rub scented oil into it to enhance its shine.
“A-Jiu,” she says running her fingers through the soft tendrils. “It’s time to select a new class of courtesans to train. This time there’s another young man who wants to join. I want you to work with him.”
Shen Jiu frowns deeply, an ugly feeling growing in his heart at the idea of a man entering the song house.
He reminds Auntie Sunu, “Men don’t make you money.”
“What are you talking about, silly. You’re my little viper showing up out of nowhere to prove they do.”
Shen Jiu stares at his reflection. With great determination for it to be true, he replies,“I’m different.”
Auntie Sunu laughs at him and asks, “How so?”
“I just am. If you invite him to study here, he won’t make it past the first week.”
She hears his words youthful as arrogance instead of the threat that it is.
That night, as Shen Jiu delicately dances through the smokey air of the room, there’s a loud scuffle across the street outside. Even over the beautiful music played by the girls to the side everyone hears it and glances to the door of a group of people grabbing someone drinking and lurking in the shadows of the entryway. They drag the person off kicking and screaming that he was only looking. Shen Jiu smiles to himself, knowing one more problem has been taken care of.
Several weeks later Shen Jiu finishes learning a new fan routine. This one has been tricky to learn and he’s been practicing every day. Duan-jie choreographed the dance and one of the newer girls plays the pipa to accompany him. It’s challenging because Shen Jiu is the only courtesan with a core at the moment and thus has no one to help him learn techniques and hand seals needed for Duan-jie's vision. Everything he knows he must learn through reading and experimentation, relying only on himself just like he has for everything else in his life.
This dance requires him to move lightly across the floor like the wind itself. At precisely the exact right moments he must channel his qi to create a breeze that will lift the petals and leaves scattered across the floor. As they gently float through the air around him and kiss the cheeks of guests, Shen Jiu moves as smoothly as a river flows. His delicate limbs extend and drift through the air before he himself glides through the room dancing like none but he can do.
It takes a lot of energy for him to control so much at once, especially when he has to devote a large part of his attention to the flow of qi through his body. He can feel how his early cultivation method under Wu Yanzi damaged his internal balance and he has to dedicate himself to ensuring he doesn’t harm himself further.
When the dance is over, Shen Jiu helps sweep away the flowers. Because he has the broom out he sweeps the floor of the entire room as well before knocking on doors throughout the song house to see if anyone else needs their rooms swept.
After Shen Jiu hurries to the kitchen. Everyone in the song house rotates through menial chores in addition to their regular chores. This month Shen Jiu is stuck washing dishes. Although he hates the task he’s always found a little comfort in the kitchen. In the Qiu manor the women in the kitchen always welcomed him and offered him small treats as they cooked and it became a safe haven. Even now whenever he's in the kitchen he habitually steals food to stuff into the back of his mouth and save for later. He scrubs a teapot and listens to Xinran-mei talking animatedly as she prepares tonight’s steamed pork in bamboo leaves.
“Get this,” She says folding the leaves and tying it shut. “That man who was lurking outside every night? The weird one with short hair? Well, apparently you were right and he’s a murderer! That’s why he was hanging around! He’d collect pretty women’s heads! It's so scary what if he's actually a demon?? Can you believe someone that scary was sitting right outside!”
Shen Jiu almost cracks the teapot hearing that his instinct was right. Usually he manipulates clients to chase men he doesn’t trust away simply because he doesn’t like being around such men but this time the truth is worse than he thought and his internal urgency to remove the man was needed. He just regrets that he didn’t bring the man inside for a cup of tea and poison him himself for daring to target his song house and his girls.
He stiffly replies, “I can’t.”
Xinran-mei finishes folding the packets of meat and sets them into the steamer before washing her hands. She walks over to Shen Jiu and kisses him on the cheek. “Thank you for having your gongzi dispose of him.”
Shen Jiu keeps scrubbing the clean teapot. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Stop pretending A-Jiu. We all know it was you who asked him to chase him off. Just like that handsy man you made sure would never come back. You’re really too good for us.”
Shen Jiu doesn’t say anything but he’s glad that someone appreciates his mildly ruthless measures to make sure his home is exactly what he wants it to be.
After finishing with the dishes Shen Jiu helps patch a tear in a girl's dress needed for tonight's performance that ripped the previous evening before spending a few hours teaching calligraphy and poetry and the art of reciting to the newest courtesan.
At the end of it all, he only has a little more than an hour to himself before his first clients arrive in the evening and he can finally show the dance he’s been working on for so long.
Needing a bit of fresh air Shen Jiu slips on a warm cloak and waterproof boots and wanders down the back hill. Just outside of town behind the song house is an orchard and garden owned and ran by the song house. Usually they hire gardeners, but sometimes Shen Jiu and the girls like to work in the dirt themselves. Shen Jiu doesn’t like getting his hands dirty this way deeming the filth below him, but he likes walking through the trees in perpetual bloom to find a pear or plum to eat. It’s calming and beautiful and the grove is silent compared to the noisy streets that sometimes overwhelms him with memories of the past. Shen Jiu likes the tranquil silence.
He wanders through the trees stopping at an apricot tree half in bloom and half fruiting. He picks a few flowers and tucks them into his hair. The soft pinkish cream contrasts his dark hair and will look good as he dances surrounded by floating flowers.
Just as he picks a fruit to eat on his way back a bright flash of red cuts through the sky and a figure falls heavily from twenty feet in the air, crashing through an ancient plum tree to thud on the ground. Shen Jiu drops the apricot, hoists his robes and runs to the fallen figure. There’s only one explanation for such an occurrence and that’s that this must be a cultivator.
Cultivators in this area are rare so far away from the mountains and rivers that exude spiritual energy. Most who do pass through do stop at the Frosted Lotus so Shen Jiu knows how to identify them. Any cultivators passing through must be treated with the upmost respect. Both because of their power per Auntie Sunu’s orders, but also because Shen Jiu still clings to that lingering desperate fantasy to learn properly and become a true cultivator instead of a courtesan with a core.
The man lands on his stomach so Shen Jiu can only see a large mass of crumpled black robes. He tries to lift himself to his hands and knees but collapses back onto his stomach with a pained grunt.
"Are you okay!?" Shen Jiu asks as he kneels in the mud next to the man. Instead of replying his back convulses and Shen Jiu can hear him spitting a mouthful of blood. Shen Jiu lays his hand on the stranger's back and immediately feels how chaotic and frayed his spiritual veins are.
Qi deviation.
Shen Jiu's instinct was right that this is a cultivator. He keeps a level head not letting himself grow anxious. Being the only person with a core in the song house most days, Auntie Sunu did send him to a nearby sect a few years ago to learn how to transfer spiritual energy to stop a qi deviation before he even began training as a courtesan. A few times one of the girls would interrupt his own time playing chess with a client to frantically ask him for help as sometimes even their calming songs cannot stop a qi deviation once it has begun.
"It's been a while so if I do this wrong you can't blame me, gongzi."
Shen Jiu rolls the man over and immediately finds the air pulled out of his lungs.
Rolled onto his lap is perhaps the most handsome, beautiful person he's ever seen. Shen Jiu is used to beauty but this man is unparalleled. A man of perhaps thirty blinks up at him with wide but unclear eyes. Despite his powerful bone structure there is a softness to his face that makes him all the more striking. His long curls fan out under him, cascading off Shen Jiu’s lap across what are perhaps the most expensive and luxurious robes Shen Jiu has ever seen and onto the grass covered in fallen blossoms. A few flowers drift down to kiss his cheeks tinged pink under duress.
The man's eyes widen upon seeing Shen Jiu and the man tries to move, gasping something that sounds vaguely like "Not you!" A bright mark appears and flares red on the man’s forehead and he tries to push Shen Jiu away.
A heavenly demon.
She Jiu has never seen a heavenly demon. He's only seen lesser demons in his time with Wu Yexin. By all means he should be scared but he finds that he's not.
The movement only hurts the man more and he coughs violently before going limp in Shen Jiu’s arms.
Shen Jiu looks around. There's no one in the orchard to help him. Such a wealthy cultivator and a heavenly demon no less, he can't leave him to die. Surely it'll look bad on him to let him die and when he saves him he might be granted favor or wealth, both of which Shen Jiu hungers for. He lays his hands on the man's chest and calmly begins to channel his spiritual energy to provide balance. He can feel a blockage in the man’s spiritual veins but right now he can't focus on that. That will have to be dealt with slowly once this man's life it out of immediate danger and Shen Jiu has time to research it.
Only when Shen Jiu feels the man won't die if he moves him does he heave the massive form onto his back and trudges back up the hill to the song house. For once he's grateful he has to lift so many boxes in his chores for if not he might not have the strength to carry such a massive form. His body is made for show not labor.
In the song house he snaps orders. Someone runs to get Auntie Sunu while two girls help Shen Jiu carry the man up the stairs.
One hurries ahead and asks, "What room?"
"Mine." Shen Jiu pants. His boots are slippery with mud and he almost loses his footing. "I need to keep providing energy and need to be comfortable. Tell the young master Yan and his party I'll be unavailable to entertain this evening as an emergency has come up, but if they stay for dinner I'll still serve them tea. Have A-Li play music for their meal."
The three of them manage to carry the man to Shen Jiu’s room where they set him on the wide bed. Mud mars the beautiful blankets and Shen Jiu tries to pretend he doesn't care. It helps when he looks down on the man's unconscious face and sees beauty far more valuable than a blanket.
He strips off his muddy winter cloak and kicks off his boots before sitting on the bed next to the man. Someone lights an incense imbued with calming energies and another brings him a bowl of warm water infused with healing herbs and Shen Jiu slowly begins wiping the scrapes caused by the fall through the tree. Many are shallow and can easily be wiped away with the damp cloth, allowing the herbal water seal off the flow of blood. A few wounds are deeper though and require Shen Jiu to pry them open to clean them knowing he'll have to attend to them for a while to heal. The ones from whatever battle this man came from before he feel from the sky clearly do not want to heal just from the water.
That's okay though. It'll buy him more time to slip into this man's favor to earn wealth or power for himself and his girls.
A crowd of girls peer through the doorway at the three taking care of the man on the bed. One asks, "Who is he?"
"Where did A-Jiu find him?"
"Maybe we can take turns taking care of him?"
"He's so…" Xinran-mei says leaning past Shen Jiu to touch his soft lip "...handsome."
Shen Jiu bats her hand away with a dark look and turns to the cluster in the doorway. They immediately scatter in a scuffle of whispers an giggles.
Shen Jiu turns to the two left in the room. "You two can go too. I'll be fine."
They leave. The only sound in the room is the man's breathing and a flute humming from the first floor.
Shen Jiu runs his hand over the man's cheek, wiping away a drip of blood. Like Xinran-mei he can't help but touch his lip before hovering his hand over the glowing mark on his head, debating whether or not to touch the fading mark.
He resists the urge and pushes a curl off the man's forehead.
He moans and his eyes flutter before his head rolls to the side.
“So what is this?” Auntie Sunu says from right behind Shen Jiu, making him jump at the unexpected company. “Do you know who he is? Or where he came from?”
“No.” Shen Jiu replies still looking at the man. “But I don’t care. Look at him. He’s obviously important so we have to take care of him.”
Auntie Sunu looks down on the two and frowns. “He’s hurt. Was he fighting something when you found him?”
“No…. maybe. He fell out of the sky.”
Her frown deepens. “I don’t want to risk what we have here harboring a criminal. We know nothing about him.”
Shen Jiu finally tears his eyes off the beautiful face to look up at the woman who practically raised him. “Exactly. Look at him. If he’s good then he can reward us for our efforts. And if he’s not and we throw him out and he learns of it he might return with his heart set on revenge. If you’re worried about it, I’ll take responsibility for him. His spiritual veins are blocked right now. He has no means of attack so he can’t do anything to us. And I’m not stupid. I looked around when I found him. Nothing was following him and the rift he fell through closed immediately.”
Auntie Sunu’s expression softens seeing the young man’s determination. She knows how protective he is over the song house and he would never bring harm to those he cares about within it but will not hold back against those seeking to disrupt what he has. She also knows gaining the favor of someone with such wealth could be a boon for them all. So she pats Shen Jiu on the head and replies, “Okay. Until he’s better he can stay with you. But the moment he does anything wrong or disrupts business too much I won’t hesitate to throw him into the streets.”
“Neither would I.” Shen Jiu assures. He means it. He’ll do all he can for this stranger but he’ll cut out his heart before endangering everything he has.
He spends the next few hours carefully pulling back the man’s robes to wipe clean all the wounds and rewipe them when they bloom red again. A wound across his cheek is especially nasty and refuses to heal. Shen Jiu has a momentary fear that it might leave a scar. Whatever this man fought was formidable. But he can tell this man himself is formidable too.
He passes off the outer robes to be quickly washed. He too keeps an eye out for A-Li to stick her head into the room and tell him master Yan and his party is ready for their tea to be served. Even with this man, he cannot snub such important clients entirely. So once certain the man is comfortable and his spiritual energy is stable despite being blocked, Shen Jiu slides off the bed to change out of his muddied clothes and comb his hair before replacing the flowers.
Every few seconds he glances over at the beautiful man.
He’s drawn to him in every way: wealth, power, appearance. He can only wonder personality. A little part of him hopes that he’s kind. Or if not kind he could at least withstand arrogant aristocrat. Being an arrogant man himself means he knows how to play with such fire. The only thing he cannot stand even after spending so long in the song house is cruel men. His only means of handling cruel men after a childhood of cruelty is to draw his dagger and force them back should they be smart enough to run.
Just as Shen Jiu is about to slip out of the room for just long enough to serve tea for master Yan and apologize for his absence does the man in his bed groans loudly and shifts, drawing a hand up to his forehead.
Everything is a blur.
A blur of memories. A blur of pain. A blur of scents and noise. A blur of deep red chiffon draped over his bed, gently drifting in the breeze of an open window.
He closes his eyes. He doesn’t recognize the bed even with his blurred vision but it means he’s safe. It means a beautiful woman, his next beloved wife, found him and carried him home to dote on him until he’s healthy enough to sweep her off her feet and carry her back to one of his palaces.
That’s how it always is and that’s how he likes it.
Knowing he’s somewhere safe Luo Binghe can focus on his body, internally testing which limbs he can feel and move and trying to identify what hurts. Nothing is unbearable. If anything there’s merely a constant throb throughout and a few spots he can feel sting with open wounds. Overall, he’s fine. Whoever found him has kindly patched him up well. He can faintly recall the sensation of soft hands brushing against the cheek that still stings.
Unfortunately, his spiritual powers are blocked. He can feel everything within him stagnated making his body heavy and the lingering wounds unable to close themselves. This will prove a problem, but for now he doesn’t have the energy to address it and he doesn’t need to with a beauty watching over him.
He tries to piece together what happened.
He remembers a battle, one in which he wiped out an entire reclusive sect that did not want to recognize him as their emperor. He also remembers hearing that in attempt to stop his rise of power they awakened a demon long buried under the mountain the sect sat on, so he summoned Xin Mo and went to slay the beast.
He found it.
And slayed it.
But in its final moments clawing at what little life it could, it self detonated and tore a fissure into the ground. Claw around his chest, Luo Binghe was dragged into the gaping earth too. Then there was a flash of light and the painful sensation of falling.
Luo Binghe shifts uncomfortably on the bed. The last thing he remembers has to have been a trick of his mind. It couldn’t have been real. Falling through the earthen fissure must have reminded him of being pushed into the endless abyss by his shizun because when he hit the ground he was face to face with the narrow, cruel face of his shizun hovering over him with a dark expression.
But he killed his shizun. Only a year ago he dismembered him limb from limb, taking deep satisfaction in his cries until he had no tongue left to cry with and could only make horrible noises. A year ago he sent thousands of arrows through Yue Qingyuan’s body and presented the bloody mass to his shizun. A year ago his shizun, unable to speak, begged for death, and being more merciful than Shen Qingqiu ever was, Luo Binghe granted it.
So Shen Qingqiu could not have been the one to find him. Shen Qingqiu could not have been the one to rescue him. Shen Qingqiu had to be a figment of his mind recalling the gut wrenching sensation of falling unsupported into an endless chasm.
Someone sits down next to him on the bed and reaches out to take the arm he has draped over his eyes. The cold fingers enclose around his and a soft stream of warmth channels into the open wound on his palm, quelling the painful burn.
“Are you awake?”
The voice is too deep to be a woman’s but it’s still soft and gentle. Careful. Tentative. Full of concern.
Luo Binghe musters his strength and nods.
“Good. I’m glad.” The soft hand departs from his palm to brush hair off his face before dabbing the wound on his cheek with a cloth. “You really found yourself in a predicament, gongzi.”
Luo Binghe feels around with his hand for something to hold onto and the man places his free hand into it, letting their fingers intertwine. “Luo Binghe,” he says, keeping his eyes closed. “My name is Luo Binghe.”
“Binghe… and Luo like the river?”
“Mn. Like the icy river.” He tilts his face into the hand brushing away the blood. This at least confirms he’s landed back in the human realm if his benefactor knows the Luo River. That will make things easier for him. The human realm is much less dangerous than the demon realm with his spiritual powers severed.
The thumb of the hand rubs on his cheek, but the index finger passes over his eyebrow just under where his demon mark rests on his forehead.
“This is…” the man says slowly. He’s clearly unable to resist asking the questions he had while tending Luo Binghe. It’s almost endearing to know he’s being taken care of by someone with such an inquisitive mind he cannot resist himself from seeking knowledge the first moment he’s able to.
“A demon mark. You can touch it.”
The finger passes over the mark. Luo Binghe tries to flare his spiritual energy to make it glow more, but a tension snaps in his chest and a sharp cold rushes through his body, making him shiver.
The hand draws back, sliding along his arm to join the other wrapped around his palm.
“Does it scare you?” Luo Binghe asks. He opens one eye to observe the blurred figure. He can’t make out any detail with his vision as it is. He can only make out the pale robes contrasting dark hair on the small, narrow figure. Whoever it is, this man is certainly young.
Showing off the foolishness of youth, the man quickly snaps, “No. Why would I be scared?”
Luo Binghe closes his eyes and smiles to himself at how indignant his reply sounded, as though he’s deeply offended by the idea that he might be scared of coming face to face with a heavenly demon.
“A-Jiu,” a high woman’s voice simpers from somewhere a ways away. “Master Yan can’t stay too long. Do you want me to– He’s awake!?”
“En,” the man called A-Jiu replies. “He just woke up. Do you think master Yan would be upset if I asked him to come back another day? I don’t want to leave Luo- Luo Binghe alone just yet. If you need to compensate him for rooms in town you can take it out of my funds. Don’t take it out of A-Li’s. We just need to keep him happy.”
The woman replies, “He’ll be fine. He was just disappointed and wanted to make sure you’re well. I think he wanted to show you off to his friends.” She laughs at her own words.
A-Jiu is silent for a few seconds before replying, “Tell him to come back in eight days and I’ll give him and his companions a private performance in addition to serving tea and conversation. It’s the least I can do. As he’s leaving he may knock and I’ll step out to prove my wellbeing if he’s so concerned.”
The woman asks, “And how’s Luo Binghe, you said?”
A-Jiu’s fingers tighten around his an imperceptible amount. “He’ll be okay, I think. He may have to stay a few days for me to clear the blockage in his spiritual veins, but the danger has passed.”
“Good.” The woman says and the door shuts behind her.
Luo Binghe opens his eyes again and tries to focus on the blur of a man. He’s starting to make out features rather than just shapes: a straight nose, long, sloping neck, hair adorned with flowers but down to drape over his shoulders. Luo Binghe reaches up to touch a flower and asks, “You’re a cultivator?”
“I have cultivation.” A-Jiu clarifies. "Any hope of becoming a cultivator didn't arrive in time for me."
It'd be hard to miss the bitterness in his words. They're spoken like words he both wants to hide and snarl but instead he can only admit them to a stranger.
Luo Binghe reaches out and touches his cheek. It’s soft. As soft as he’s ever felt. He can feel the man’s high cheekbone and the edge of his sharp frown. He wishes his vision would clear so he could truly take in his savior’s beauty. He has no doubts that it's unmatched. How could it not be?
“It’s okay.” He assures. “Cultivation doesn’t mean greatness. I’ve known powerful cultivators who in the end were easily toppled and amounted to nothing.”
A-Jiu makes a small huffing sound that might be a laugh or perhaps distrain. He reaches up and pulls Luo Binghe’s hand away from his face, holding it and inspecting the stinging cut. With his head down he says, "Those that run away to find a sect and forget about everyone else for their own power are disgusting, useless, worse than the filth on my shoes-"
He squeezes too hard and Luo Binghe inhales sharply, cutting off A-Jiu's spiteful buildup of words tumbling out of his mouth before he can control them.
"...sorry." Shen Jiu abruptly stands and gets something off a shelf. Luo Binghe tries to adjust himself to follow but a sharp pain in his side hurts enough to keep him in place on the soft bed. His vision is starting to clear enough to make out a little more detail, enough to get a clearer view of the man and the room. Even from behind he can tell his instinct was right and his savior is a beauty.
He props himself up and asks, "Did someone leave you to join a sect?........ A-Jiu? Are you okay?"
Whatever A-Jiu picked up he sets back down harder than he meant to so it clatters against the wooden shelf. He doesn’t turn around to look at Luo Binghe. His entire body stiffens, but he does brush his flowing hair away to rest behind his shoulders.
“Who…” he says quietly before lifting his voice. “Who told you you can call me that?”
Luo Binghe forces himself to sit up, wanting to quell whatever he’s provoked in A-Jiu’s heart.
“You haven’t told me what to call you.” He explains. He keeps his voice level and soft, not wanting to upset the puffed up cat any further. “All I’ve heard is your companion calling you A-Jiu. I didn’t mean any offense. What can I–” Luo Binghe stands to join A-Jiu by the shelf but trips on the edge of the carpet with a heavy thud.
A-Jiu spins around in shock to see Luo Binghe on the ground. He watches Luo Binghe stumble to his feet and trying to walk over him. Not wanting him to hurt himself further, A-Jiu presses down whatever he’s feeling and guides Lou Binghe back to the bed. He taps his knee and orders, “Don’t move” before standing and getting the pot of ointment he was fetching before Luo Binghe’s question. When he returns he scoops a small amount onto his palm and begins pressing it into the cuts on Lou Binghe’s body.
“My name is Shen Jiu. Stop moving so much, this is expensive and all I have. Don’t make me waste it by wiping it off immediately.”
“Shen…” Lou Binghe whispers before admitting, “I don’t like the name Shen. Can I call you A-Jiu?” He doesn’t mind being so forward. He’s used to being forward and it’s only natural for him to slip into a familiar intimacy with those who he rescues…or in this case rescues him. It feels stranger to call the man his full name.
Even blurred, he can see the tight frown on Shen Jiu’s face. “Would that make you happy?”
“En. Much happier than calling you Shen Jiu.”
“Then you can call me A-Jiu while you stay.”
Shen Jiu’s hands are strong as he massages Luo Binghe’s hand with the ointment. Luo Binghe knows this trick well. He knows Shen Jiu saved the expensive medicines for while he was awake to make sure it’s known how much he’s giving. Before Lou Binghe had his wealth he sometimes did the very same, not wanting his earnesty to be wasted on the unconscious. He doesn’t mind it though. It’s somewhat endearing how this young man carries himself with a strong desire to be respected, a man who carries that illusion but so obviously struggles with it.
It’s something Luo Binghe can relate to except he took his respect while Shen Jiu dances and performs to earn his.
Somewhere within a neighboring room someone begins singing, the notes of a woman’s soft voice just carrying through the walls. Incense curls up through the air, filling it with a calming warmth that settles deep into Luo Binghe’s chest. He closes his eyes. With Shen Jiu holding his hand he feels at peace.
He asks, “How long will that be?”
“However long you want.” Shen Jiu replies. “Your spiritual veins are blocked and I’m confident I can help unblock them but you’d have to give me a day or two to study. It’d only be partially. After you could stay until you’re all better, or leave to find better help.”
Luo Binghe leans back to lay down again. He really is quite tired. “I think I’d like to stay here with you. At least a while.”
He starts to think, his mind dragging along a little too slow for his liking. It’s best if he stay here in this song house for a few nights at least. He’ll be housed and fed and surrounded by beauties fawning over him. He’ll be comfortable while his spiritual veins return to their usual flow or at least until he can summon Xin Mo again to figure out how to reverse the fissure in the earth that threw him through the sky.
He realizes Shen Jiu has said something. “What?” He doesn’t bother opening his eyes. His vision will be too blurred anyways and the man’s voice carries a melody to it, beautiful enough not to need to see his face.
“I asked what the Shen you knew was called.”
“Orphan?”
Shen Jiu stills at the question, answering it in silence. So Luo Binghe answers his question. “His name was Shen Qingqiu.”
He peeks one eye open and can barely make out Shen Jiu making a face. He hums a questioning noise and Shen Jiu replies, “Qiu is an ugly character.”
Luo Binghe shoots back, “He was an ugly man.”
Shen Jiu moves from Lou Binghe’s hand to a wound on his neck. Leaned in close Luo Binghe can make out a little more of the man’s face through the blur. He can make out that all his features are high and pointed, the epitome of scholarly grace. He can also make out the long hair he pushed behind himself before has slipped forward over his shoulders again. It brushes against Luo Binghe’s chest to tickle him.
Shen Jiu says, “You should call me A-Jiu then. Forget about ugly men and their ugly names.”
Luo Binghe can’t help but laugh. He’s right. He should forget about ugly men with ugly hearts and names. Shen Qingqiu is long dead. There’s nothing left of him but memories. He brushes back Shen Jiu’s hair over his shoulder again and jokes, “I assume you must be a beauty then.”
“Hm?” Shen Jiu hums in question. “Do you have poor vision?”
“Normally no.” Luo Binghe assures. The hair he just pushed back falls forward again immediately. “But whatever I was fighting must have damaged it. Everything is a blur.”
“I can help with that.” Shen Jiu quickly says, sounding far more upbeat. “Some patrons who want to see performances but have lost their sight pay a fee and I can help clear it for a short time. Only an incense period at a time though.”
Luo Binghe laughs again. Youth is always so eager to show their strengths. “I can certainly repay you for the favor.”
Shen Jiu quickly wipes off his hands and kneels on the bed next to Luo Binghe, cupping his face in his hands. He brings his forehead towards his own until they are touching in but a butterfly kiss, his warm breath passing over Luo Binghe’s face before he begins to channel his spiritual energy into Luo Binghe.
Warmth fills him. Not enough to unblock his spiritual veins, but just like Shen Jiu said enough to clear his vision.
With their faces pressed so close together Luo Binghe still can’t make out the man’s face but he can still tell immediately that it worked.
Luo Binghe reaches up to touch Shen Jiu’s hand still cupping his face. “Thank you, A-Jiu.”
Shen Jiu slowly draws away, his long fingers gliding over Luo Binghe’s cheeks until they depart. A soft look is across his sharp face.
His face.
He knows that face all too well.
“You!”
Luo Binghe scrambles back on the bed, his stomach dropping in absolute horror. He tries for form the hand seal to summon Xin Mo but it fails. He tries to form a hand seal to blast energy at the cursed man, but it fails too. He tries for form a hand seal he’s seen Mobei-Jun use to rip himself through space but it fails too. All he can do is is kick at the man who’s tranquil expression has been ripped away into one of shock.
Shen Jiu looks panicked. He tries to climb higher on the bed after Luo Binghe. Frantically he asks, “What’s wrong! Did I do it wrong? Does it hurt?”
“Get away from me!” Luo Binghe snarls, kicking out hard and making contact with Shen Jiu who in turn cries out in shock. “Get back!”
His heart is pounding too fast. It feels like it’s about to force its way out of his chest, splintering his ribs with it. He can’t think. Every fear, every pain, every memory of Shen Qingqiu rushes back to him as Shen Qingqiu corners him against the wall, now clutching his shoulder.
There’s a knock on the door and they both freeze.
“A-Jiu?” An older woman calls through the closed door. “Is everything okay in there? Do you need help? We heard a noise.”
Shen Jiu looks at Luo Binghe with deep mistrust in his face, but even so he calls back, “No. We’re fine. You don’t need to send anyone.”
The person leaves.
Shen Jiu and Luo Binghe both heave for breath, neither of them moving and both not trusting the other in the slightest.
Very slowly, all the melody in his voice gone and replaced by disdain mixed with a hitch of pain in his voice, Shen Jiu says, “You need to calm down and let me examine your spiritual energy. If I did something wrong it could lead to another qi deviation. There’s no other cultivators within 20 li so you need to let me make sure you’re okay. If you do that I won’t tell Aunty Sunu you attacked me.”
He very slowly reaches out and takes Luo Binghe’s wrist. Luo Binghe wants to move away and keep fighting, string the man up alive before killing him with his own hands, but he’s immobilized by the shock of seeing his long dead shizun. Shen Jiu takes his wrist and closes his eyes to focus. Whenever Luo Binghe so much as rustles a blanket or twitches a finger his eyes shoot open, distrust evident on his face. Once his hand flies to his thigh where the outline of a blade rests.
After a few minutes he releases Luo Binghe’s hand.
“You’re in a worse condition than I thought.” He says. There’s a tightness to his words that make them sound strangely polite and deferential. “I don’t think you should move around at all. It seems the more you move the worse it’ll become and you’ll need to rebuild your strength before unblocking your veins. A week? Maybe. I don’t know.”
He stands and steps back. His hand rises to where Luo Binghe kicked him before quickly dropping.
“Stay here. I- I have a patron I promised tea to. I’ll bring you dinner, Luo-gongzi.”
With that Shen Jiu quickly turns and leaves the room at a brisk walk, leaving Luo Binghe alone on the bed feeling light headed.
He collapses back to lay flat, staring up at the cage of flowing fabrics over the bed.
Shen Qingqiu is dead. He knows that for a fact. There is no question about it at all. He’s dead. Luo Binghe killed him. He felt the last breath leave his body and the last beat of the cruel heart pound.
So this can’t be Shen Qingqiu.
He’s too young anyways. This man looks barely out of his teenage years, certainly less than twenty five. Shen Qingqiu could have been any age but was certainly not so young. He could be a sibling. Shen Jiu did wordlessly admit to being an orphan and peak lords are given new names upon ascending to the position.
But again something says that’s not right. Just something about Shen Jiu and Shen Qingqiu being siblings feels wrong. Luo Binghe is a clever man but more than his wits he trusts his intuition and his intuition says that that’s not right either. His gut says this is Shen Qingqiu even if it’s impossible. Like a predator can sense its prey, Luo Binghe can sense this is Shen Qingqiu.
The other opinion feels the least likely: something about the fissure he fell through forced something strange to happen and this is his shizun, just not his shizun.
Luo Binghe twitches on the bed, testing movement. He can feel what Shen Jiu said is right. Something within him is desperately out of balance, more than just his spiritual veins his qi is too. It would take very little to set off a qi deviation. But at the same time he’s confident that now the shock of seeing the vile man has passed, if he wanted to leave he could.
He could get up and leave right now.
All he has to do is sit up, move to the edge of the bed, grab his robes and walk out the door. No one would be able to stop him.
He could…..
Luo Binghe remains laid on the bed watching the door for Shen…Jiu to return.
He’s curious. He needs to know who this Shen Jiu actually is and how his shizun became a courtesan.
Maybe that's why he'll stay.
Shen Jiu hurries down the hall with his hand pressed to his chest where Luo Binghe kicked him. He presses open the door to one of the girl’s rooms that he knows will be empty, closing it and leaning against it.
“Bastard.” He hisses to himself pulling back the top of his robe to check if a bruise is forming. The only reason he didn’t scream for Auntie Sunu to throw the man out on his ass is because of the man’s status. Wealth and power and a heavenly demon. It’s better to sucker up to him for a few days than to offend him. Offense can lead to a lifetime of misery for the whole song house if the man is powerful enough while keeping him healthy and content could be a boon.
He adjusts the dagger on his thigh and makes a mental note to coat it in poison. Even without his spiritual powers this man could mean trouble and even with the possible risks and rewards he is still ready to stab him through the heart if needed.
In the mirror Shen Jiu straightens himself so he looks as pristine as ever before morphing his expression into one of simpering softness. With light feet he practically floats down the steps to the first floor to the room Master Yan and his guests are, warmly apologizing for his absence this evening. His shoulder hurts too much to dance, so Shen Jiu stands at the head of the room and sings a song of heroes before excusing himself and promising should they return he’ll dedicate his evening to song and dance and conversation with the party.
He gathers a plate from the kitchen before ascending to his room.
He stands outside for a moment to gather himself before pressing open the door.
Luo Binghe lays on the bed waiting for him. He has at least moved to a more comfortable position than before hunkered in the corner like a caged dog.
Shen Jiu sets the tray down at the small dining table. “Are you feeling better?”
“Yes.” Luo Binghe replies, equally stiff. Shen Jiu inhales deeply once before letting all the stale air out of his lungs. Ever since he was a child he could cry on command. Going through Auntie Sunu’s training he learned other emotions on command too, and sweetness towards those in poor temper may have been the one he struggles with most but the one she’s made sure he has the best practice with.
“I brought you dinner. But before you ripped open a few of the wounds I worked so hard to heal for you.” Shen Jiu turns around with a soft expression and pulls a handkerchief out of his sleeve. He’s glad one of the girls was smart enough to light calming incense earlier. His own nerves feel frayed and it helps. He’s certain it helps Luo Binghe too as he steps closer again. “Let me clean you up and we can eat.”
He sits down on the edge of the bed. Luo Binghe props himself up. Neither break eye contact with the other as Shen Jiu leans in to wipe away the blood on Luo Binghe’s cheek. When Shen Jiu touches the wound Luo Binghe’s demon mark flares but the man neither jerks back or moves closer. He just remains still, watching Shen Jiu with a slight frown.
He is quite the handsome man, Shen Jiu thinks. As long as he doesn’t become a brute he’ll do well for himself.
The two eat in distrustful silence, each eyeing the other for any sign of ill intended movement. Neither try anything so neither reacts. A few times Shen Jiu begins conversation to fill the awkwardness, to which Luo Binghe smoothly responds.
Luo Binghe asks the usual questions, like what brought Shen Jiu to be a courtesan, what sort of talents he has, and whether he likes his job. Shen Jiu responds in partial truths, as he always does, replying that he found himself in trouble and Auntie Sunu assisted him. At first he stayed for his debt, but now he stays because he likes performing. It’s a story patrons like to hear because they feel with each moment they’re talking to Shen Jiu and paying handsomely for his company they’re helping save the beautiful man from his debts. It’s a different kind of con than his youth on the street where he would cry to adults for a scraping of money or food, but it carries the same tone: people love to play the hero to the pitiful.
He of course hates the indignity of it all, but it is lucrative and with Luo Binghe’s obviously deep pockets he wishes to fill his own.
Luo Binghe also asks strange questions, like the date, the song house’s location, and the sect leaders of various sects. Some of these questions Shen Jiu can answer and some he can’t. He tries to remind himself Luo Binghe fell from the sky and is trying to orient himself again.
Shen Jiu asks a few questions of Luo Binghe, like what sect he’s from, whether he has money, does he prefer song or dance, and if he’d like Shen Jiu to continue treating him or if he’d like to summon a healer, although that might take several days for them to arrive.
Come evening, Shen Jiu cleans up the dishes before sitting with Luo Binghe on the bed. Luo Binghe sits upright staring out into the room as Shen Jiu adjusts his clothes pulled off Luo Binghe’s shoulders.
“I’ll find you clothes for sleep tonight.” Shen Jiu says when he notices a rip in the fabric. “And I’m sure I can find you robes too. They won’t be as nice as yours but we do keep some for patrons to relax in so they will at least be comfortable. Or I can send for some. And I can repair this rip.”
Luo Binghe tilts his head just enough to glance at Shen Jiu and asks, “You sew?”
“En. We embellish and repair our own clothes here.”
Luo Binghe snorts and replies, “I’m surprised you do any real work here. I’d think you’d pass it all off to the weakest.”
Shen Jiu has to resist the impulse to smack Luo Binghe across the back of the head. Instead he calmly replies, “Everything here is done by us. We occasionally have some outside help with cleaning and in the kitchen, but all us courtesans rotate through chores. Ready?”
Luo Binghe turns back to face forward and nods. Shen Jiu places his hands square on Luo Binghe’s shoulder blades and closes his eyes. Shen Jiu focuses all his energy on balancing Luo Binghe’s qi. He thinks three days of this and he can begin trying to clear the blockage within his spiritual veins. Warmth emanates out of his hands into Luo Binghe.
At first Luo Binghe holds his breath but with the warmth moving from Shen Jiu into himself he releases it and closes his eyes too, focusing on the movement of that warmth.
For an incense time Shen Jiu channels energy into the man he found until he himself is nearly drained of energy, both spiritual and bodily. His cultivation is low and from tending to Luo Binghe all day he’s drained himself more than he ever has before, even when he was traveling with Wu Yanzi and cultivating at his body’s expense. When he can’t withstand the drain any longer Shen Jiu withdraws his hands.
“How does that feel, Luo-gongzi?”
Luo Binghe turns with a sharp smile.
“Much better.”
“Good.” Shen Jiu says. He stands and paces across the room, pulling out his own pajamas. “I’ll find something for you to sleep in and leave it at the door. Sleep well.”
Luo Binghe quickly moves too so that he’s right behind Shen Jiu before he can react. “Where are you going?”
Shen Jiu takes a step back towards the door, his face pulling tight with annoyance. “To bed.”
Luo Binghe tilts his head far too much like a perplexed dog. “You’re not sleeping here?”
“No.”
Before Luo Binghe can say anything more, Shen Jiu steps out of the room. He hurries to the room Duan-jie and Xianxian share to throw his clothes on the bed before hurrying downstairs. There are still quite a few guests lingering and he doesn’t want Auntie Sunu doubting her decision to let Shen Jiu keep the strange man in his room, so Shen Jiu drifts between those listening to song. At a few tables with men and women he recognizes Shen Jiu slips into an empty chair to pour tea and pulls out a small pot of rhododendron honey to stir in. Other tables with guests he does not know he whispers conversation before slipping into a private room with a woman to talk over a short game of chess.
When all the patrons that are not staying the night leave Shen Jiu returns to the kitchen to help wash dishes before wandering back up to Duan-jie and Xianxian’s room and flopping face first on Duan-jie’s bed. He knows that he’s going to have to roll over at some point so she can climb in too, but she’s still downstairs counting money so he has a few minutes to sprawl.
He’s exhausted.
All he knows is that Luo Binghe better have the deep pockets he believes him to have.
He makes himself sit up and quickly change before the others come in. When he pulls back his inner layers there is indeed a dark bruise from Luo Binghe kicking him. He pokes at it in frustration before covering it again and flopping back onto the bed to fall asleep instantly. He doesn’t hear the others entering or their whispered conversation at finding him here and wondering who this Luo Binghe must be for Shen Jiu to give up his own bed before climbing into bed too.
He snuggles up against Duan-jie when he half wakes at the bed shifting. She was the one who really took him under her wing when he first entered the song house as a bought slave. When he stayed up unable to sleep the first few nights she’s the one who first noticed and invited him to sleep next to her rather than in a corner on the floor with his back pressed to the wall. No matter how far he may ascend, he’s just a little brother to her.
Before sun up Shen Jiu is poked awake. He barely opens his eyes to spot Auntie Sunu lit by a candle, crouching to be face level with him, her hand pressed to his forehead. Shen Jiu closes his eyes again and murmurs, “I’ll be up in a few. Just a little more sleep and I’ll help make breakfast.”
“No, you won’t.” She says, sounding much more terse than usual and poking Shen Jiu awake. “You went and got yourself a fever. Come on, A-Jiu.”
She heaves Shen Jiu up and half supports him through the dark halls reprimanding him for treating his cultivation so flippantly.
“I thought you had your own interest at heart” she says as she pushes the doors open to the rejuvenating baths. “What are you doing giving so much you make yourself sick? You of all people should know better.”
Shen Jiu hasn’t returned to these baths except to wash others or to clean them since his first day at the song house when he was so bloodied and mangled that she didn’t want to risk him being seen for fear of people thinking she abused her employees. With each bath the spirit stones are depleted so they are reserved only for patrons with the deepest pockets and courtesans with special training to take care of them.
Shen Jiu undresses with his back to her to hide the bruise and slips into the tub, sinking until everything but his face and ears is submerged.
“It is in my best interest.” He replies more snappish than he meant to, but feeling fevery and having just been woken up in the earliest hours of the morning he has little strength to pretend to be patient. “Look at him. He’s rich. If he likes us it could be a windfall. And he’s a cultivator with connections to Cang Qiong Mountain and Huan Hua Palace and is at least a little heavenly demon. That means power. Imagine if we had him in our pocket.”
Auntie Sunu huffs then laughs. “That’s the Shen Jiu we all know and love. It makes sense.” Shen Jiu feels a light tap on his forehead from her finger. “But no sacrificing your own wellbeing for him. I don’t want to drag you back here again. Get him to a state where he can come and go and that’s all. You’re still young and stupid sometimes even if you are so smart.”
Shen Jiu hums in agreement and lowers his head to just float. She’s right. He is stupid. Several times over he’s found himself accidentally sacrificing his wellbeing for others and getting hurt for it. It’s a mistake he needs to stop making. He once thought Qi-ge would rescue him when he sacrificed too much but he was wrong about that. Qi-ge never came back for him.
Qi-ge decided he doesn’t matter.
The water is warm. It feels like a soft blanket enveloping him and drawing any stress or pains out his body so he’s just left with a fuzzy calm. In the softness he can reflect on his memories of Qi-ge without growing bitter as he always does. It’s nice to finally think about the person once held dearest in his heart without hurting. Qi-ge has been the only person he thought would save him. He trusts those here at the song house to help him, but help and save are different beasts. Or perhaps it is because he trusted Qi-ge to save him and he didn’t Shen Jiu knows not to trust anyone like that again. He doesn’t need to be saved anymore. He rescued himself.
Shen Jiu falls asleep floating in the tub. Auntie Sunu remains seated next to it, making sure he doesn’t drown himself.
After Luo Binghe eats breakfast he strips off his shirt to let Shen Jiu transfer spiritual energy to him. Shen Jiu’s chilled fingers tickle when he grazes over his back, surely debating how much he’s allowed to touch. Several women he's been with did the very same: taking in his body in fascinated apprehension before wrapping themselves around him.
It’s strange to sit before what he’s certain now is a 20 year old version of his shizun and expect to be helped. Every part of him except for his curiosity demands he kill him or run, certain that this is a trap. And yet because of his weakened body he can barely maneuver the room yet alone running away. Therefore, in a cruel twist of fate, he’s entirely at Shen Jiu’s mercy.
But Shen Jiu seems disinterested in harming him. If anything, he seems most interested in hearing about Luo Binghe’s life. About his strengths and adventures and wealth. About Luo Binghe’s preferences and skills. About cultivation itself. About anything Luo Binghe wants to bring up.
And yet while Shen Jiu has his cold hands pressed against Luo Binghe’s back his pleasant conversation is gone and the young man is entirely silent except for breathing through thinly parted lips.
“A-Jiu?” Luo Binghe asks. He wants to look around at the man but knows he shouldn’t move during an energy transfer so he remains rooted on the bed he’s spent the last half a day in.
“Hm?”
“You’re more quiet than usual.”
“I’m focusing.”
Luo Binghe shifts a little into the palms at his back. He’d prefer it if Shen Jiu spoke. It makes him feel like it’s not his shizun with his hands on back and a blade strapped to his thigh, poised to stab a powerless Luo Binghe at any moment and turn all the others in the song house against him for no reason at all. When Shen Jiu speaks it carries a different cadence and tone than his shizun’s frosted tone and sharp words. His deep voice has a song to it, as if even when Shen Jiu doesn’t mean to he still sings.
Luo Binghe remains silent for all of a minute before he asks, “Are you okay though? Your energy feels different.”
Shen Jiu flatly replies, “I overtaxed myself yesterday taking care of you, so you’ll have to forgive me for holding back today. You’ll still be able to get up and move around today though.”
Luo Binghe tries to pull away hearing this but Shen Jiu’s nails dig into his back, reminding him not to sever their connection abruptly or it could rebound on Shen Jiu. If he truly overtaxed himself then he might suffer a qi deviation and with no other cultivators around he could actually die. For a second Luo Binghe debates the viability of this but remains seated with the man’s nimble hands on his shoulder blades. He’s too curious about this version of his shizun to kill him now.
“Don’t push yourself today then, A-Jiu. Are you working later?”
“En.” Shen Jiu responds. “Young master Jin requested tea and a game of chess this afternoon, but aside from that Auntie has put me on chores for the day since my music and dances all require my spiritual energy. You’re welcome to move about the public areas of the house, just don’t make a disturbance.”
“I won’t.” Luo Binghe promises. He knows his way around song houses and knows proper etiquette. He also knows how to sweet talk a girl or two into slipping away from their work for a tryst, but he doesn’t plan to do that today. None of the girls have cultivation and like it or not he is dependent on Shen Jiu until he can summon Xin Mo again.
Shen Jiu leaves.
Luo Binghe changes into the simple robes left by Shen Jiu before wandering downstairs. They’re fine robes, soft and comfortable and nothing he could complain about except for their simplicity. On the ground floor women move about preparing the song house to open for the day. Some warm up their vocals, some stretch for dance. Others rearrange pillows and hurriedly fold blankets while yet others carry out trays of tea sets to arrange handsomely on dark wood shelves.
Shen Jiu sits on the floor in a corner with a young woman. He’s leaned close to her and whispering in her ear. A surge of anger rises at the vile man preying on young women again and he hurries over, but is forced to stop midway.
“That’s why it didn’t sound right yesterday.” Shen Jiu explains loosening a chord on her pipa. “Nothing’s broken. You don’t need to buy a new one. Hey, look at me.” Shen Jiu pats her knee. His softness vanishes into a sternness that is not unfriendly but rather reassuring. “Stop crying right now. There’s no need for that. We only cry for money, remember?”
The girl laughs and wipes her nose, nodding adamantly.
“Thanks, A-Jiu. I was so scared I’d have to buy a new one.”
Shen Jiu picks up his fan and pats her on her head. “Of course not.”
He spins his fan in his hand with impressive nimbleness before catching eye with Luo Binghe standing puffed in the doorway. He glances around before pointing at something on a table and ordering a woman to handle it, and walks over. Along the way he raps his fan on the head on a middle aged woman stretching with a sharp, “You’re hypering extending again. Stop it now.”
When he’s face to face with Luo Binghe he’s met with Luo Binghe’s question of, “You said you’ve only been here five years. Why should you act like you rule the place?”
Shen Jiu crosses his arms. For a fraction of a second that cold look Luo Binghe remembers well cuts across his face before it’s gone and replaced with a pleasant expression. “Because Madam Sunu can’t always be on top of everything and I stepped up where needed. Someone has to protect what we have.”
“And that someone is you?”
“Apparently.” Shen Jiu replies and reaches out his hand to a curl on Luo Binghe’s shoulder. “For example everyone has to be presentable when stepping foot here. Did you not comb your hair? It’s all frizzy.” He runs his finger through the curls and catches a knot. Luo Binghe suddenly realizes that he’s so used to a wife brushing his hair or straightening it with a burst of spiritual energy that he didn’t even think to this morning.
“I’ll go do that now.”
Shen Jiu replies, “There’s a comb on the table in the corner by the window.” He leaves, moving on to the next task of the morning.
Luo Binghe returns to Shen Jiu’s room and finds a comb exactly where he said it would be. Luo Binghe flips it in his hand and raises it to his scalp, trying to drag it through his curly mane.
Rip it through.
He’s not used to brushing his own hair and over the years has forgotten how. He tugs on the comb again, his scalp yelling at him to stop. In frustration Luo Binghe pulls it out and raises it to the top of his head to try again. And again.
After a few minutes the door opens and Shen Jiu peers inside to spot Luo Binghe ripping at his curls. He hurries in and slaps Luo Binghe’s hand loudly ripping a knot apart.
Shen Jiu snaps, “What are you doing? Don’t you know how to do something as basic as brush your hair?” He reaches around Luo Binghe to grab the discarded comb and shoves the bigger man into a nearby chair, pulling his hair out to drape over the back.
Every part of Luo Binghe lights on fire with anger at being slapped and scolded and instinctual fear of his shizun. But Shen Jiu doesn’t do anything more. Instead he takes Luo Binghe’s hair in his hands and starts portioning it off and combing it from the bottom up, explaining what he’s doing.
Not once does he tug on Luo Binghe’s scalp. It pulls all the tension out of his body to feel the comb brushing through his hair. As it glides over his scalp it feels like heaven and he finds himself closing his eyes. It’s like before he realized who rescued him. He can’t help but sliding back in his chair, tilting his head back more than it should.
From above Shen Jiu asks, “How do you not know how to brush your hair?”
“It’s usually straight but without spiritual powers…” Luo Binghie makes a poof motion with his hands, omitting the fact his wives usually brush it for him. Shen Jiu laughs at his response. Luo Binghe’s eyes dart open to stare up at him.
Shen Jiu’s smile is sharp, just like the rest of his face. His thin lips draw upwards to show off his teeth, cutting deep lines into his cheeks. His eyes curl into half moons at the jest. It truly sets him apart from Shen Qingqiu, seeing him so youthful with his beautiful smile.
He keeps combing Luo Binghe’s hair, but with even more care this time. With each lock he carefully combs he twists to encourage the curls. When he’s brushed away all the knots he keeps petting Luo Binghe’s hair. After a few pets that make Luo Binghe’s toes curl he says, “It looks good like this. You should consider letting it be curly more. Assuming you learn how to properly brush it.”
There’s that smile again, telling Luo Binghe his words are a quip and not a jab. Luo Binghe touches his curls, his hand brushing over Shen Jiu’s resting on his head, and smiles in return. Something warm is filling a part of him he didn’t realize was cold with Shen Jiu’s smile. “Assuming you teach me, A-Jiu?”
“Sure.” Shen Jiu replies and pats his head. “But right now I need to work. I was only grabbing some polish and you distracted me.”
Throughout the day Shen Jiu spots Luo Binghe following him through the song house. He limited Luo Binghe to only the public spaces and his own room, and while Lou Binghe doesn’t break these rules he follows Shen Jiu like a puppy. He hovers just outside the kitchen door when Shen Jiu helps prepare lunch. He follows Shen Jiu into the song room when he serves tea, sitting in a corner and watching him intently when he sits down to converse with a few patrons and explain he won’t be dancing for a few days. He sulks in Shen Jiu’s room when Young Master Jin and Shen Jiu leave for a private room to play chess and he can’t follow. He even follows Shen Jiu to the bathroom, waiting just outside before following him outside to a broomshed where Shen Jiu pulls out a mop and bucket, leading Luo Binghe down to the well where he draws water and heaves it back towards the building.
It’s strange, Luo Binghe thinks, to see this man carrying a bucket of water and a mop with the intention of scrubbing floors. It’s something he could never have envisioned of his shizun in any way, shape or form. He always made himself appear far above such tasks, shoving them off onto his disciples and especially onto Luo Binghe.
At the end of the day long after the sun has set, Shen Jiu rushes outside, grabbing an ax to split a few pieces of wood to carry in and deposit in the common room where many of the girls sit and talk and laugh loudly at the gossip they gathered from their clients for the day. Luo Binghe can hardly believe the task set to him purely to torture him Shen Jiu does without so much as being asked, instead choosing to because he noticed the woodpile was depleted.
Shen Jiu pokes the fire a few times then wishes the girls goodnight. He brushes off the dirt and shoots Luo Binghe a meaningful look, telling him to follow up the stairs.
He quickly follows without a second thought, much like he has all day.
He strips off the borrowed robes and once again sits on the bed with Shen Jiu’s hands on his back, channeling energy into him until Shen Jiu draws away, gathers what he needs for the night and leaves.
This continues for two more days. Each morning and each evening Shen Jiu balances Lou Binghe so that he feels confident attempting to unblock his spiritual veins. During the time between Shen Jiu works and Luo Binghe follows him around like a lost puppy.
He’s only growing more curious who this 20 year old Shen Jiu is and how he came to a place like this instead of Cang Qiong Peak.
And how he’s so different from Shen Qingqiu.
On the fourth day of Luo Binghe’s stay, as he’s standing lurking outside the closed door of a room Shen Jiu is serving tea in and talking, Madam Sunu approaches him. Her greying hair is pulled back tightly and the softness she carries around the girls is gone when she looks up at Luo Binghe.
She nods her head towards a neighboring room. “We need to talk.”
Luo Binghe looks towards the closed door separating him and A-Jiu before following. Inside the private room Madam Sunu shuts the door before pouring Luo Binghe a cup of tea.
When she sits she looks down her nose at him making him somehow feel small despite being twice as large.
She doesn’t mix words and jumps straight to the point. “This arrangement can’t continue. You’ve been staying in A-Jiu’s room, one he’s worked hard to earn for himself, making him share a bed with Duan Xiu.”
“I didn’t–”
“Even if you didn’t make him, he's not going to share a room with you and you should have seen that after the first night. Additionally, you’re hurting his cultivation. A-Jiu’s internal balance is very delicate and your need for energy is throwing it off. He’s unable to sing and dance at all right now because of you. Aside from the damage that’s doing to him, it’s hurting my bottom line.”
“I–”
“ And ,” she says, steamrolling right over his intention to speak. “Shen Jiu is unwilling to prolong his debts a single day so he’s taken up additional physical labor on top of the energy he’s investing in you to make up for others having to perform in his place. So?” She leans back with an expecting look. “How are we going to resolve this, especially if you intend to stay until your spiritual energy has returned?”
Confused, Luo Binghe asks, “You’re not kicking me out?”
“No,” she replies, the sharp, reprimanding edge to her tone faintly diminished. “I don’t believe in throwing the vulnerable out onto the streets. But I also don’t believe in letting any harm come to those under my care. My proposal is you move out of his room immediately. We can make the shed in the back of the house comfortable since I won’t let any of the girls host you either. Additionally, since you can move around again, I suggest that you take over any physical tasks outside his daily chores for him. This means firewood, laundry, cooking, and harvest in the orchard. You certainly don’t need cultivation for any of those. And in exchange I’ll let A-Jiu take care of you like he wants to and I’ll make sure you’re warm and fed.”
Done speaking she finally sips on her tea and raises an eyebrow, waiting for Luo Binghe’s reaction.
Shen Jiu tries to argue with Auntie Sunu when he sees the bed arranged in the building used to store clothes and props not currently used. The building is not terrible, it’s not unsuited for human occupation and Lou Binghe will certainly be okay in it, but it’s not what Shen Jiu would ever envision for a man of such wealth and stature. And yet even when he offers that he sleeps in the shed while Luo Binghe remains in his bed, Auntie Sunu shuts him down immediately, making him feel like an aggrieved child.
He’s not used to not getting his way. The problem is that he rarely clashes heads with Auntie Sunu and therefore usually gets what he wants. Not since the days of living at the Qiu Manor has his will been disregarded so easily.
A chill runs through Shen Jiu realizing that he’s arguing to keep a man in his bedroom. Patrons may enter, perhaps even fall asleep to a soft song or lulling conversation aided by a mildly spiked beverage, but he’s never wanted them to stay a prolonged time in his room. But Luo Binghe feels different. He feels as though the two of them have a lot in common and for once he feels like he’s bonded with a man rather than merely conversing.
He reminds himself that allowing Luo Binghe to sleep in his room is not the same as sleeping in the same room. The thought comforts him and he gathers up bedding and blanket and clothes to bring to Luo Binghe in the building he’s been banished to. He dumps everything onto the pad on the ground in the cleared out space and sets about making the bed, trying to make it look nice. He’s certain Luo Binghe will be upset if he’s banished to a storeroom and it looks unwelcoming.
Bent over with his ass in the air he barely hears Luo Binghe enter and freeze. He rolls over to face the man. His cheeks are tinted pink and his curls look depressed from the walk over and the rain outside.
“I haven’t quite got everything ready.” Shen Jiu says, sliding off the pad on the floor to kneel beside it and flatten out the folds on the blanket. “Sorry you’ve been moved out here.”
Luo Binghe crouches down next to Shen Jiu and tilts his chin up with a crooked finger. He smiles down at the little man, sending a deep chill through him. It does not matter that in this moment his dagger is strapped to his thigh and he's the only one with spiritual energy meaning he could overpower Luo Binghe if needed, he still gets the unsettling feeling that he’s prey and Luo Binghe is a wolf in sheep's clothing.
The feeling passes and Shen Jiu pulls away to crawl over the pad to fix the blankets on the other side.
“It’s fine.” Luo Binghe says and sits down on the bed next to Shen Jiu. “I didn’t realize how much you were doing for me and I wouldn’t want to put you out. Besides, I’ve stayed in worse. Madam Sunu called it a shed but this is hardly a shed. It’s an entire building.”
"Even so," Shen Jiu replies, barely hiding how bitter he is that his desires have been overruled. All his efforts will go to waste if Luo Binghe is upset. He finishes adjusting the blankets and rolls to sit next to Luo Binghe.
Luo Binghe takes his hand and flips it over. Usually it's much smoother but he has small raw spots from cutting wood the last few days. He knows he'll have to devote energy to healing the small tender spots before he next serves tea or plays chess. The only calluses he allows on his hands are those from music as those are noble marks. But he doesn't want to do that until he's channeled into Luo Binghe for the night.
Luo Binge rubs his finger over the pad of his index finger where a permissible callus resides. "I'm also taking over the chores you've picked up while taking care of me."
Shen Jiu tries to respond but a finger is pressed to his lips and Luo Binghe looks down with an intense softness. It pulls all the air out of Shen Jiu’s lungs and makes him want to do whatever Luo Binghe wants of him.
"You're doing so much for me, let me return the favor, A-Jiu."
Shen Jiu nods and Luo Binghe gives him a sharp smile before drawing away and pulling at his own robes. Immediately Shen Jiu’s mind jumps to a very specific type of returning the favor and to his surprise excitement fills him. But Luo Binghe merely pulls away his upper layers and turns around for Shen Jiu to begin clearing his meridians.
It's good Luo Binghe doesn't see the shock or disappointment on his face.
After they talk for a while Shen Jiu hurries through the rain back to the main building. He doesn't go to sleep though. He keeps seated by his window where he can just barely see the edge of the shed. Out of the slit of window he can make out when he cranes his neck a faint glow of a candle. He can’t help but wonder why Luo Binghe is still awake at such a late hour, or if he’s foolishly left the candle to burn as he sleeps. But the longer he watches the more the rain picks up before turning into a total downpour. Cold wind batters the walls of the song house making the rain cut at an angle across the sky until the shed is obscured from view. Shen Jiu watches for a while more.
He gets up and pulls on a cloak. Silently, he moves through the building keeping an eye out for those awake. At the door he grabs an umbrella and his boots and hurries through the darkness to the shed.
Inside Luo Binghe is curled under his blankets, laying on his side with an unblinking, blank stare into the darkness of the room extending beyond. The moment he hears the door creak he sits up and forms a hand seal but of course nothing happens.
“It’s just me.” She Jiu says lowering his hood and stepping over a few buckets to approach the bed. “Are you doing okay in here?”
Luo Binghe’s eyes follow him as he approaches, again unblinking. Half lit by the burning out candle he looks younger but far more weathered.
“I’m fine.”
She Jiu sits on the bed on the ground next to him and opens his basket, pulling out a nestled pot of tea and two small cups. “It’s cold tonight.” He explains. “I thought if you’re still awake you might want something to warm you up. This is a tea that’ll aid peaceful sleep. From my personal collection.”
“Do you need help finding sleep?”
“Sometimes. But the tea is hard to find so I save it for clients.” As an afterthought he adds, “Or people like you.”
He pours a cup and hands it to Luo Binghe. Their fingers graze and Shen Jiu is surprised to feel how shockingly cold he is. He twists his hand to grab Luo Binghe’s and hold on, taking in how cold he is. Even in the faint light of the flickering candle he can see goosebumps running up Luo Binghe’s arm.
Luo Binghe asks, “Is something wrong?”
"Shouldn't I be asking you that? Why are you so cold?"
He doesn't really need to ask. He knows why. Luo Binghe is a cultivator. He's used to his cultivation scaring away the cold and fighting the heat. Without his cultivation at the moment he's even more susceptible to the cold than a common person. Shen Jiu can't help but pity him. Not even pity meaning eyeing Luo Binghe’s pockets and showing him kindness in exchange for money or power, but rather genuinely pity a man not used to the cold. The cold can be bitter, biting through flesh to freeze bone. His childhood on the streets means he knows how much it hurts to be cold.
On the far side of the room water plunks into a bucket from a leak in the roof.
"Drink your tea." Shen Jiu orders, debating the merits of what he wants to do versus the trouble it might cause.
He really wishes he had successfully squashed the urge to help people even if it might cause himself grief. A better version of himself would have.
Luo Binghe and Shen Jiu run through the darkness and the rain together, bumping shoulders under the small umbrella. They hurry up the stairs and through the long hall to Shen Jiu’s room trying to be as quiet as they can. Luo Binghe follows a step behind Shen Jiu, dragged by his hand.
He’s shocked Shen Jiu came for him in the rain. And grateful.
Before he found himself here Luo Binghe has rarely spent a single night alone. He already found himself struggling to sleep alone in Shen Jiu’s bed, but moved into the dark shed he couldn’t stop his mind wandering back to the Endless Abyss and against his will he stared into the void of darkness expecting something to stare back. But nothing stared back, and A-Jiu ran through the darkness to check on him and rescue him back to the safety of his room.
Shen Jiu tosses his cloak to the side and lights a candle while Luo Binghe kicks off his shoes and flops onto the comfortable bed. It still has the residual warmth from before Shen Jiu got up.
“A-Jiu,” He says with his arm out as a clear indication he should join. Shen Jiu hovers by the bed clearly debating whether to join Luo Binghe or not. His deliberation breaks and he climbs into the bed with Luo Binghe, shoving a pillow between them. Luo Binghe allows it, but he can’t help but sliding his hand under the pillow in search of Shen Jiu’s.
Shen Jiu sees and takes it, toying with Luo Binghe’s fingers.
“Thank you.” Luo Binghe says.
“Hm? It’s no problem. I protect my own.”
Luo Binghe leans up so he can peer over the barrier between them. Shen Jiu is pink from running through the rain but his expression is soft looking down at Luo Binghe’s hand entangled in his. He looks up and they make eye contact. Seeing Luo Binghe’s smile he does too. Small and reserved but handsome and something Luo Binghe greedily wants more of.
“So you’re saying I’m yours?”
“That’s not what I said.” Shen Jiu tries to withdraw his hand but Luo Binghe’s fingers lock around his.
“It’s what I heard though.”
For some reason the idea doesn’t upset Luo Binghe as much as he expects. Perhaps because he’s the one saying it. He’s used to having, not being had. He’s never been chosen.
While he’s weak he’ll let Shen Jiu have him and when he has his spiritual powers back….he’ll figure it out then.
Somehow in the night the pillow between them is kicked away and Shen Jiu rolls into his arms, face pressed against his chest. Luo Binghe wraps his arms around him and holds him tight.
Come morning Shen Jiu wakes early and nudges Luo Binghe awake too.
"Come on," he whispers. "Sit up. I need to clear your meridians and then we're in the orchard this morning."
Luo Binghe lets out a pathetic grumble but sits up for Shen Jiu to place his hands on his back and channel energy into him in attempt to revitalize his spiritual veins.
When Shen Jiu offers what meager energy he has he doesn't demand they get up and get dressed right away. Instead he rolls to grab and comb and begin combing Luo Binghe’s hair for him. Soft, gentle strokes followed by a pet, Luo Binghe closes his eyes and smiles at how nice this is. Finished, Shen Jiu even pulls his hair half back for him and neatly ties it up.
He then moves off the bed. In the dim light of a candle he pulls out boring robes with no embellishments or frills before stripping from his pajamas to pull them on.
Luo Binghe stares.
Of course he stares, how could he not seeing such a body revealing itself right in front of him? Shen Jiu is lithe and lean, far less muscular than one would think of a cultivator but still strong from his years of dancing. His long, dark hair flows down his back in a way that feels deliberately alluring, directing his gaze directly to A-Jiu’s perfect ass. He mourns the loss when that ass is covered, but Shen Jiu turns around and Luo Binghe can see that handsome face lit by the candle again and it doesn't feel like as much of a loss.
He really doesn't understand why he can look at this man who tortured him for so long before throwing him into the endless abyss and feel something soft.
"I'm going to go find you employee's robes." Shen Jiu whispers as he pulls on soft bottomed shoes and slipping through the door.
A moment later he comes darting back in and shuts the door. His cheeks are a little red and he whispers, "Xianxian’s awake. We need to be quiet."
The whispers and the sneaking feels as though they're having an illicit affair rather than finding Luo Binghe clothes to scrub floors in.
It feels more like an illicit affair when Luo Binghe strips in front of Shen Jiu to try on robes. While they have clothes for patrons in an array of sizes, men's employee robes are few and far between as Shen Jiu explains men don't often work in the song house and if they do they usually give up within a month's time.
"Men are too weak to make it here." Shen Jiu explains as he helps pull off the robes that are far too small and hands him another set. "They think if they get a job here they can philander and when they learn they can't they leave."
Luo Binghe shoots him a knowing glance hearing the edge in his voice. He repeats the words Shen Jiu said to him last night: "I protect my own."
Shen Jiu smirks and replies, "Maybe." He pats Luo Binghe’s chest where this set of robes is only a little too tight. With the touch the robes loosen as Shen Jiu uses spiritual energy to relax the fibers and let them grow enough to perfectly fit Luo Binghe. "So you've been warned. No toying with my girls."
Luo Binghe laughs until he remembers Shen Qingqiu lurking after Ning Yingying and frequenting brothels. His laugh dies in his throat and turns into a dark scowl.
“Here.” Shen Jiu says and offers him a cloak before dragging a thinner one around himself. “We’re going to the orchard to make pies for guests. It’s still raining out so you’ll want it.”
Luo Binghe takes the cloak and the pair hurry outside through the mist and drizzle down to the orchard that Shen Jiu found him in. The first thing Shen Jiu does is walk Luo Binghe through the orchard explaining which plants are what and each of their effects if they have any, as well as which ones require spiritual energy from a gardener that visits once a month and which support themselves. Most of the trees are half in bloom and half fruiting, as Shen Jiu explains they cycle through year round so the song house always has fresh fruit.
Before they start Shen Jiu ties back his hair and sleeves, explaining that he often ends up climbing the trees and doesn’t need his hair in his face. Luo Binghe sets aside his bucket too and ties back his sleeves. He fumbles a little in doing so, no longer the swift fluid movement of wrapping the length of fabric around his shoulders and over his back that it once was in his youth. So long away from true labor made once ingrained skills long forgotten. With himself squared away, Shen Jiu helps Luo Binghe, commenting on how wealthy he must be to never need to tie his sleeves back.
In the dim morning light they can’t find the basketed poles to pick the upper most fruits so Shen Jiu kicks off his shoes and begins to climb.
“Careful, A-Jiu.” Luo Binghe warns with his arms ready to catch him.
“I’m not going to fall.” Shen Jiu responds with a hint of annoyance between his words. He gathers the easy to reach apples and tosses them down to Luo Binghe to fill his bucket half way. With more room in the bucket to carry more Shen Jiu climbs higher, careful of the slippery bark against his bare toes.
Although Shen Jiu is light and nimble his weight is too much for the tree limb to bear. An ominous crack fills the air and Shen Jiu drops all his hard earned apples. Luo Binghe dodges the projectiles. He could easily catch Shen Jiu jumping out of the tree but chooses not to. He’s still curious about Shen Jiu and how he’s Shen Qingqiu but not. He wants to see how like his master this twenty year old is, how quick his reflexes are and if he’ll find himself hurt.
He does fall, but he doesn’t hurt himself. He lands in a crouch with his hands in the mud. He frowns deeply at the dirt on his palms and splashed up his forearms as he straightens.
He wipes his hands in disgust, his head down to hide how pink his cheeks are in embarrassment at falling. “Can you finish picking by yourself? Just the apricots over there. If you want to, I was also going to prune these two but you don’t have to. Auntie Sunu said I could perform today, so I’ll come down in the evening to.”
Luo Binghe agrees and Shen Jiu takes his full bucket of fruit and retreats up the hill to deliver it to the kitchen to be turned into pies and glazes and carefully sliced fruit to be served on trays to wealthy individuals leisurely watching those of the song house perform.
Luo Binghe finishes picking the apricots, filling his bucket to the brim. After a little debate he figures he can help with pruning too as it’s not a terribly hard job for him, so he spends some time inspecting the trees Shen Jiu pointed towards before eliminating the cumbersome branches.
Shen Jiu hurries up the hill still barefoot. His heart is pounding and he glances back to see if Luo Binghe is looking at him at all.
Immediately after Luo Binghe told him to be careful and he griped that he wouldn’t slip, his foot absolutely did slip, landing on a weak branch for support. He felt it in time and shoved off before crashing to the ground, and that traitorous little part of him flung himself at Luo Binghe in the hopes of being caught.
He wasn’t caught.
He doesn’t need to be caught, Shen Jiu bitterly reminds himself. He doesn’t need someone to catch him when he falls. He doesn’t need to depend on anyone but his own two hands and feet. As long as he has them he’ll be fine. He doesn’t need to be helped or saved by anyone but himself and when he’s foolish enough to think he can trust someone else to catch him he will hit the ground hard. He learned that with Qi-ge and he’s been foolish to let that lesson slip.
Just because Luo Binghe looks big and strong doesn’t mean anything at all. And so what if he knows the moment he steps back inside he’s going to get chewed out by Auntie Sunu for inviting Luo Binghe back inside last night even when she told him his bed is his own?
Sure enough, as soon as Shen Jiu steps out of the luke warm bath he quickly drew to wash off the mud, Auntie Sunu is waiting for him with a heated towel and a stern expression.
“So last night,” she starts but Shen Jiu cuts her off with a cold expression as he takes the preheated towel and bundles himself.
“You always said I was welcome to invite who I want into my chambers and into my bed. We didn’t do anything stupid and I didn’t waste my spiritual energy so I still want to perform today. We just slept. I just didn’t want him out in the rain in a leaky shed.”
Unimpressed, she asks, “Are you done?”
Shen Jiu nods with a stubborn scowl much like a bullied child.
“I was going to say last night the man you had your Master Yan arrest escaped so I’ve told all the girls they’re not allowed to leave the grounds today. Same goes for you especially. Everyone knows Yan-gongzi is wrapped around your finger so Xue Heqing will probably blame you. But what’s this about sharing a bed?” She pulls out a comb and starts untangling his wet hair for him.
Shen Jiu’s cheeks turn pink but he keeps a straight face. “Nothing.” he quickly replies. “Do you think Xue Heqing would come back here?”
“You’d know better than me.” Auntie Sunu admits. “You’re the one who was keeping an eye on him. What do you think?”
Shen Jiu considers. He mostly wanted Xue Heqing away from the song house because he always lurked in the shadows near each of the entrances. He never did anything wrong, per say, but he made all the girls feel unsafe coming and going by themselves. It was only after asking Yan-gongzi to scare him away did the truth of his proclivities for murdering beautiful women reveal itself. Shen Jiu can’t decide whether or not the man would return knowing people are keeping an eye out for him here.
“I guess it depends on if he thinks Yan-ge was acting of his own initiative or if Xue Heqing figures out I asked him to. You’re right though, we should be more careful until he’s found.”
Auntie Sunu makes a noise of agreement before asking, “How are you feeling? Are you dancing today?”
Shen Jiu nods with determination. He may be a little more tired than usual but he can certainly afford at least one proper dance.
“Good. Go get ready then. There’s fresh flowers picked already, and Xianxian has been practicing her music but you should listen and make sure, otherwise Duan Xiu can do it. Be ready before lunch service. We want the biggest crowd for you.”
Shen Jiu hurries off to get dressed, eager to put on his best clothes after a few days without.
He enjoys many aspects of being a courtesan but what he loves most is dancing. It feels like how fighting would feel were he a proper cultivator. He’s complete and total control of his body. The movements are rehearsed and trained until they’re mere muscle memory. He works in tandem with whoever is playing music for him but he is not dependent on them in the slightest. He can combine moves as he wishes to create whatever tone he wants for the show. He can be elegant and refined, looking as though he’s the wealthiest man alive when he’s fully dressed and dancing. His skill means that he is without question better than everyone else, and Shen Jiu likes being the best.
And what he likes perhaps most is that with his weak spiritual energy and damaged core, dancing is when he can most easily allow his qi to flow without fear of hurting himself. Light footed steps of qigong let him move with ease, his fans billow out wind created by his very being to pick up the flowers and bamboo leaves scattered across the floor to dance around himself. In the moment, Shen Jiu can live up to his fullest potential independent of anyone else.
He rehearses his dance in a backroom with Xianxian before returning to his own room to get ready by adorning himself with flowers and leaves, painting a delicate huadian between his brows, and carefully stepping into layer upon layer of light fabrics to dance in the wind.
Shen Jiu is so excited to get to dance today that he forgets about Luo Binghe in the orchard, assuming he got roped into working in the kitchen upon delivering the fruit.
Luo Binghe stays out in the orchard longer than he meant to. He gets caught up in pruning the two trees A-Jiu pointed towards before finding the one he crashed into when he fell through the fissure in the hopes of figuring out how he got here, although the now broken tree reveals no secrets. Only certain he can get no answers from broken limbs does Luo Binghe return to the apricot tree to fill his bucket.
The light mist stops and a small ray of sun dares peek its face out through the grey clouds. It casts long, deep shadows through the orchard that makes everything feel more rich. A few birds come out and flutter through the trees singing songs of their own making and a few mimicries of those the girls in the song house fill the air with. A light breeze wafts petals down from the non-fruiting side of the tree and Luo Binghe realizes these were the flowers tucked behind Shen Jiu’s ear when they first met. Without thinking about why, Luo Binghe takes a flower and tucks it against his breast.
Only when Luo Binghe’s bucket is full to the brim does he begin the long trudge up the hill back to the song house. He can see all the doors are open and hears lively music playing. Despite the dreary day people fill even the back entrance more than Luo Binghe had seen before. There's no way he can sneak through unseen to the kitchens so Luo Binghe slips through the crowd whispering about the wind touched flower with his bucket of fruit trying to make as little disturbance as he can.
Luo Binghe freezes, his heart stopping before he shoves through to the front of the crowd.
Everything stops around him.
There in front of him A-Jiu dances. His movements are fluid and graceful. His arms drift through the air with more grace than the most beautiful of butterflies, as if that is what he was created to do. His flowing robes curl around him like tender flower petals unfurling in the morning dew to bathe in the warmth of the sun that is his audience's gaze. Almost lazily he spins and twists his wrist, his fan moving with him to pick up a breeze pulled from the gasps of his captive audience. The petals and leaves blanketing the floor pick up and swirl around him.
Without warning, Shen Jiu opens his eyes and locks onto Luo Binghe, tracking him through a spin before closing them again. As his hair dances out behind him like soft ribbons on the wind he smiles a radiate smile Luo Binghe knows is meant for him. A delicate wrist flicks a silk fan towards him. The trail of flowers and leaves flutter and tumble through the air to swirl around Luo Binghe whose eyes are frozen on A-Jiu as heat rises in his cheeks.
A blossom swirls around Luo Binghe's face to brush over his cheek like the ghost of a kiss. A kiss from A-Jiu.
Around him the audience makes sounds of marvel as the blossoms and leaves float upwards to swirl through the air above them, passing over but not once touching anyone except the single petaled kiss to Luo Binghe. But Luo Binghe has no need to care for the others watching Shen Jiu dance. In this moment there is only the two of them: Luo Binghe watching and A-Jiu dancing.
Shen Jiu slides over the floor towards Luo Binghe and his silks follow in a slow drift woven with the wind. His arm stretches high over his head and slowly lowers twisting with an unparalleled elegance. As his fan passes over his face to reveal only his eyes his meet Luo Binghe, catching onto him and hanging there. The fan drops and he smiles. Not that performative smile that only shows off his beauty, but the real one that's wild and uncontrolled, so unlike the dance that is only about his control over his body.
Something in Luo Binghe wakes at the ghost of a flowery kiss, the smile and Shen Jiu’s gliding approach. A longing, a desire, a yearning.
A powerful possessiveness that only overwhelms him near his favorite people.
It's a deep want to be closer with Shen Jiu, to grab him and take him away from this crowd so no one else may witness him. It's a desire to study him carefully and know that even if he is Shen Qingqiu he isn't. A desire to possess him so he need not be possessed by others. A desire to be with A-Jiu, who called Luo Binghe one of his own, worthy of protecting.
Shen Jiu drifts back over the floor away and Luo Binghe feels an immediate loss. He wants to be closer to him, not further.
Shen Jiu’s feet move so evenly it looks as though he's floating. Or perhaps he is. Perhaps with his cultivation he only needs to push off the ground with a toe in an elongated step to float over the petals carpeting the ground. His movements pick up in speed and fluidity as the music builds. All the air is caught in Luo Binghe’s lungs, eager to see how the performance will end when the building music breaks.
Someone bumps into Luo Binghe. On instinct he clutches the bucket of fruit tight enough that it may crack and forms the hand seal to summon Xin Mo to behead the one who would dare drag his attention off A-Jiu's dance and remind him that others exist and others lust after A-Jiu, but when nothing happens Luo Binghe is reminded of his position and the fact that Shen Jiu has worked hard to offer Luo Binghe what he has. Instead of fighting Luo Binghe pushes down the anger and plants his feet on the ground so no one can move him. He watches the young man channel all his energy so the flowers and leaves return to swirl around him, all the silks hanging around the room billow and dance like a roaring ocean, his own robes and hair drift as though trapped under water, and Shen Jiu’s movement stills as his hands fall to his waist.
He closes his eyes, his chest rising and falling heavily.
The two silk fans snap shut.
The last note of the music stretches on and fades.
Everything settles and there's a long silence in which Luo Binghe’s heart beats rapidly in his chest demanding he run up to Shen Jiu and tell him how beautiful that was. But to his horror, others do this first. They run up to Shen Jiu and kneel before him, offering him riches and praise. Still pink and breathing heavily Shen Jiu smiles down at them and out to the audience issuing polite praise for the young man. He pats one of the kneeling men on the head but to another dressed in robes perhaps even more expensive than Luo Binghe’s were he crouches down and tips his chin up to look at him. The man looks unbearably hopeful and Shen Jiu whispers something in his ear. The man scrambles to his feet and follows Shen Jiu out of the room with their hands intertwined.
One of the girls of the song house steps up into the clearing of blossoms and begins to speak but Luo Binghe doesn't care. He only cares about where Shen Jiu went with that ugly old man.
He hurries to the kitchens to deposit the apricots and promises to be back in a few minutes to help turn them into tarts. He walks at a brisk pace popping his nose into each of the semi-private alcoves most private conversation takes place in but does not find Shen Jiu and his patron. Luo Binghe picks up his pace, half running as he climbs the stairs towards A-Jiu’s room.
He presses his ear against the door to listen.
Muffled, Shen Jiu scolds, "Don't do that. If you put that there I'd be very disappointed in you."
"Where else should I put it then? Do you have a better move you'd like to show me?"
Shen Jiu scoffs and there's a silence that fills Luo Binghe with anxiety of what sort of move Shen Jiu is showing the man. What is he putting where??
Luo Binghe quietly tests the door but it’s locked so he drops to his hands and knees to peer under. All he can see are two sets of feet sitting by a table, the ugly old man’s foot rubbing up and down Shen Jiu’s shin. A small bubble of panic he didn't know was building in his chest pops at the knowledge that at least they aren't on the bed, but that raises the question of what they are doing together after such a magical performance and the man kneeled and begged Shen Jiu to pick him.
He hears someone approaching and shoots to his feet and walks a short ways so as not to be caught lurking outside private meetings between courtesan and client and risk being thrown out by Madam Sunu. He knows she knows A-Jiu invited him back inside to share a bed and that's he's on thin, cracking ice with the madam.
Grumbling, Luo Binghe mutters to himself that he'll buy the whole damn song house when he's better so he can follow A-Jiu into any room he wants. No one will be able to stop him.
He returns to the kitchens to slice the apricots he picked, where all he can think about is his A-Jiu and what he could be doing behind closed doors. He thinks about how the world tunneled around him so it was just the two of them in a crowd. He thinks about how A-Jiu sent a blossom over to kiss him and only him, for everyone else the flowers flew high above and out of reach. He thinks how beautiful
"AH!"
Lou Binghe sets down his paring knife and drops the apricot to see the deep cut over his finger that his wandering mind allowed his hands to make. It hurts more than usual without his cultivation to heal it immediately, but it still hardly hurts compared to what he's gone through in the past. It's just a lot of blood.
"Are you okay?" The girl Shen Jiu calls A-Li asks, leaning over with wide eyes to see the handful of blood. "Come on, over here."
She pulls Luo Binghe over to a water basin to begin helping him wash out the cut. Usually this is where Luo Binghe would turn on his charm and sweet talk her into loving him, but instead of any charm he finds himself saying, "Can you get A-Jiu?"
Pale but composed, A-Li replies, "Auntie Sunu can give you stitches if needed. She has medical training. It doesn't look too bad though. And A-Jiu's with a client right now."
Luo Binghe frowns and pulls his hand away from hers. Morose he replies, "It's fine then."
She pats him on the shoulder and says, "Go take a break. You've already put us ahead today and we can't be getting blood in the food."
Luo Binghe makes a grunt of agreement and leaves the kitchen, where he immediately bumps into Shen Jiu in work robes tying back his sleeves as he half jogs down the back halls. They both look at each other confused.
Shen Jiu asks, "Why aren't you in the kitchens?"
Luo Binghe asks, "Aren't you with a client?"
Luo Binghe holds up his cut finger which he hasn't even bothered to bandage and is starting to weep again. Shen Jiu replies, "We finished our game so I thought I'd help you. You were in the orchard much longer than I- what happened?"
“Cut myself.”
Shen Jiu takes Luo Binghe back to his private room where he diligently begins cleaning and wrapping the cut finger.
Luo Binghe can’t help but ask, "What were you doing with that man?"
Shen Jiu glances up at him and gestures his head towards the table where a game of chess is set up. "Conversing and playing chess."
"I can play chess too!" Luo Binghe quickly says like a child eager to prove a skill. Shen Jiu laughs and replies, "I'm sure you can, being a gentleman. We'll have to play a match soon and test your skills. It's been a long time since I faced someone who can best me."
"I can." Luo Binghe announces, which earns him an affectionate eye roll.
There's a beat of silence where Luo Binghe focuses on the feeling of Shen Jiu’s hands against his own before saying, "That was a really beautiful performance, A-Jiu." He reaches out with his free hand to brush away a strand of hair that rests over his cheek.
Shen Jiu smiles but keeps wrapping his finger without looking up.
"It's a pity you have to do it in front of so many."
"I don't mind. I like controlling everyone's gaze." His eye flick up to Luo Binghe above him and there's the faintest hint of Shen Qingqiu's need to express his power as peak lord, but within a second that flash of the man Luo Binghe hates has vanished back into the handsome twenty year old who is but isn't his shizun.
"I could help you with that." Luo Binghe’s heart is picking up at his own offer. "I could teach you some techniques that'll make your dance even more impressive."
There's a shock in Shen Jiu’s face before it suddenly breaks into a massive smile and before Luo Binghe even knows what's happening, Shen Jiu is hugging him.
Shen Jiu does not hug. He barely touches clients at all except a few. But Luo Binghe isn't a client. Luo Binghe is one of his own, one of the people he keeps in his pocket to be able to better protect.
He releases the hug but at the same moment Luo Binghe’s arms wrap around his waist and pulls him closer. Luo Binghe’s arms are made for hugging, encompassing him entirely in a strong but comforting embrace that is a touch that could be crushing but isn’t. Shen Jiu redoubles his hug, burying his face in the soft curls and says, "Thank you."
Thank you because I've been learning cultivation entirely on my own and it's exhausting. My body hurts from experimentation but I can't show weakness. All I've ever wanted was someone to teach me how to be better.
He doesn't admit the second half though. He never would. Instead he lets Luo Binghe go, his fingers drifting over Luo Binghe’s shoulder and his heart warm and full.
Eagerly he asks, “When?”
“Whenever you want.” Luo Binghe says. His hands slide down Shen Jiu’s side to rest in his lap, weighing his thigh near where the dagger he always keeps strapped to himself resides. Shen Jiu forces himself not to look down at it and instead keep looking up at that handsome face.
Shen Jiu wants to answer right now, but he exhausted himself for the day with his performance and knowing he needs to work on unblocking Luo Binghe’s spiritual veins come evening. Shen Jiu beams at him before flattening his expression into usual scholarly disinterest, but behind his eyes is a spark of life Luo Binghe has yet to see before.
The rest of the day is busy. News of Shen Jiu’s performance drew in a crowd that stay through the evening and night. With all the girls occupied with singing and dancing, talking, serving tea or entertaining privately, Shen Jiu and Luo Binghe are left to carry much of the weight of greeting guests and keeping everything organized. Shen Jiu hardly has a moment to think as he floats back and forth with a simpering smile that earns him a few coins without needing to do much of anything at all. He profusely apologizes to those who missed the performance and issues promises that he will dance again in a few days time.
At one point he sees a few female patrons flirtatiously talking to Luo Binghe despite his work robes rather than fine attire indicating he’s open to entertaining. Shen Jiu watches for a moment curious what will happen, but he sees Luo Binghe catch his eye through the crowd and takes mercy, telling him he needs help in the kitchens. Luo Binghe quickly takes his hand and lets him lead him away from the women.
That night Luo Binghe changes into his pajamas and Shen Jiu can’t help but turn his head just enough to see. What he’s met with is a body of the gods. Heat rises in his cheeks and he quickly looks away to keep braiding his hair for the night.
Luo Binghe sits on the bed topless waiting for Shen Jiu like so many times before. Shen Jiu quickly settles behind him and lays his hand on the sculpted back, closing his eyes and focusing on channeling his qi through Luo Binghe in attempt to clear his blocked spiritual veins. Under his fingers Luo Binghe shifts and relaxes, leaning back against his palms.
It’s calm.
It’s peaceful.
It's…nice.
Shen Jiu has a destructive habit of distrusting nice. He wants nice, he longs for nice, he dreams of nice, but any time he’s been exposed to nice in his youth he’s always had reason to be scared. Qiu Jianluo taught him that. And yet he doesn’t feel that rising panic that something bad is about to happen in this nice moment.
He lets Luo Binghe sink into his touch.
Luo Binghe leans back and Shen Jiu finds himself leaning forward until his cheek rests on the back of Luo Binghe’s shoulder. His hands are still squared on his back channeling energy, an unbreaking tether binding the pair.
Luo Binghe tilts his head. A strand of curly hair tickles Shen Jiu’s face. “A-Jiu?”
“Mn?”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.” Shen Jiu replies softly. In truth he’s exhausted from the day but he’s unwilling to admit such a thing. Luo Binghe can tell anyways because he reaches back and pets Shen Jiu’s cheek. “Let’s sleep after this.”
“Mn.”
He offers Luo Binghe what power that he can before breaking the energy exchange. When he breaks away Luo Binghe spins around to face him.
“Can I sleep here again?”
Shen Jiu hesitates and nods in agreement.
The two lay down in bed side by side. Once more Shen Jiu creates a barrier of pillows between them, but when Luo Binghe’s hand slips under it he takes it and interlaces their fingers wordlessly.
In the darkness they lay.
“A-Jiu?”
“Hm?”
“I don’t know how to play chess.”
Shen Jiu scoffs at Luo Binghe’s insistence earlier that he could beat him in a chess match.
Luo Binghe continues, “I want you to teach me how. In exchange for me teaching you cultivation techniques.”
“Sure. I can teach you.”
Shen Jiu closes his eyes and starts to sink into the depths of sleep.
Through the darkness Luo Binghe asks once more, “A-Jiu?”
“What?”
“You’re a really good dancer.”
Shen Jiu smiles to himself at the complement, holding the words close to his heart.
Suddenly Luo Binghe asks, “Are you nice when you teach people? You seem mean.”
Shen Jiu jerks awake and peers over the mount of pillows separating them. “What makes you think that?”
“When you instruct the women here you’re strict.”
Shen Jiu sinks a little into the pillows and retorts, “Strict and mean are different things. I can be mean but that’s not mean.”
“You can be mean…” Luo Binghe makes a noise of consideration. “You won’t be mean to me, will you?”
“Why are you asking this? Have I ever been mean to you?”
Luo Binghe makes a noise that’s muffled by the blankets but doesn’t say anything more. Confused, a little irritated, but mostly tired, Shen Jiu falls asleep. Even so, he doesn’t let go of his loose hold on Luo Binghe’s hand under the wall of pillows, running his thumb over the cut on Luo Binghe’s finger.
Early the next morning Shen Jiu brings Luo Binghe to the kitchen where he starts instructing Luo Binghe on making a complex soup base. While Luo Binghe stirs the vegetables he pulls out a strange looking box of oysters and sits on the floor with a knife to start shucking them. His face is stretched tight in concentration as he forces the knife into the small seam of the beast to force it open without letting it slip and cut himself. His tongue even slips out of the edge of his mouth as he concentrates.
"What are those?" Luo Binghe asks as he pokes the bowl of soft, slimy oyster tissue Shen Jiu has already opened.
"They're for the soup." Shen Jiu explains without looking up. A strand of hair slips out of his tight bun and falls into his face. Luo Binghe brushes it back for him. "They're what makes a pseudocore. Sometimes clients eat it to know what it's like to feel spiritual power moving through them, but usually we do."
Luo Binghe sits down to help crack open the oysters too and asks "Why?"
Shen Jiu finally looks up with an exasperated expression. "Why do you think?" When Luo Binghe looks confused Shen Jiu says, "Most of us don't just converse and perform."
It clicks in Luo Binghe’s head that these oysters are used to mimic the rush of dual cultivation. His knife slips and he almost cuts his palm yet again except for Shen Jiu grabbing it just in time to prevent a repeat of the previous day.
Luo Binghe asks, "Do you?"
"I don't eat the soup, no."
"No." Luo Binghe refuses to let Shen Jiu dodge the question. "That's not what I meant."
"I know." Shen Jiu replies and lets go of his hand to resume shucking oysters. "I've trained in pleasures of the body but it's not a service I usually choose to offer. At most I help patrons bathe and ease tensions."
Luo Binghe makes a small noise of understanding and Shen Jiu points to the pot on the flames, telling him to stir the vegetables before they burn.
He then sets Luo Binghe up to begin marinating meats and rising doughs for lunches and dinners. When a girl enters the kitchens with her hair pulled up to begin making breakfast for everyone in the song house Shen Jiu leaves to attend to other chores.
Luo Binghe spends a long time thinking about the pseudocore oysters and A-Jiu being trained in the pleasures of the flesh as he adds them to the soup base and stirs.
A-Jiu is absolutely nothing like Shen Qingqiu. He gets on his knees and cleans, he’s kind to those he teaches, does all the tasks he used to punish Luo Binghe for merely existing. He fought to keep Luo Binghe here, safe within the song house while weak instead of watching him qi deviate and die, even running through the rain to invite him into his bed. And he’s trained to invite others into his bed too.
And…and he smiles. He has a soft, youthful smile that brims with subdued affection.
As Luo Binghe lifts the lid off the soup and is met with a wash of steam he has to remind himself that he hates Shen Qingqiu. That no matter how different A-Jiu is, he is still Shen Qingqiu. He himself admitted he can be mean. Luo Binghe repeats an internal chorus that he’s only staying here because of his curiosity and until he’s powerful enough to leave. Not at all because of A-Jie’s draw.
Not at all because of….
At breakfast Luo Binghe pays attention to who eats the pseudocore soup and who doesn’t. All the girls eat breakfast together, chattering loudly and laughing and placing bets on the day. Shen Jiu doesn’t sit next to Luo Binghe during breakfast. He helps pile Luo Binghe’s plate full but before he has time to fill a plate for himself a young woman taps his shoulder. With a trembling lip and tears welling in her eyes she explains that didn't realize a client ripped her dress, the one they bought from passing cultivators and imbued with spiritual energy, and she can’t fix it. Shen Jiu looks longingly to the food before nodding and following her out. Luo Binghe sits and waits until someone nudges him and tells him to eat because if he’s really taking over A-Jiu’s jobs he’s going to have to get to work. Regretfully, Luo Binghe eats his meal as people bustle around him.
After breakfast Luo Binghe is shown through the back halls of the building to a laundry room. After assuring he knows how to wash clothes he’s left to the job.
Already in the room is Shen Jiu sitting cross legged on a bench, hunched over as he carefully pushes a needle through a fine dress. As he draws the thread tight and resumes stitching a small drift of spiritual energy pulls off him into the fabric, making Luo Binghe understand why he was the one chosen to be the one to repair the dress: he has spiritual energy to maintain the enchantment on the fabric.
He glances up at Luo Binghe who nods to the laundry. Without a word Shen Jiu smiles and watches him tie back his long sleeves before getting to work. A small part of Luo Binghe still likes doing laundry. It feels like a tiny point of connection to his mom. She used to wash clothes as he sat next to her playing with the little stuffed animal she made for him out of scraps of rags. They don’t talk as they work, but Luo Binghe still enjoys Shen Jiu’s company.
It’s nice.
He’s not used to these moments of mutual calmness. For years his life has been chaos, never stopping from ceaseless strife and adventure. It almost feels as though he’s tumbled out his own life and into another. Into a life with his dear A-Jiu.
…Dear A-Jiu.
Is that what he thinks of him now? Does he forget the years of torment so easily from a few moments of peace?
Shen Jiu interrupts his thoughts by asking, “Do you want to learn chess after lunch?”
Luo Binghe quickly agrees.
The days pass quickly.
Nearly a week after falling through the fissure and tumbling into the orchard Luo Binghe and Shen Jiu find a day where they each have hours of free time as the song house closes for the monthly day of rest in which all its employees have no tasks and the day entirely to themselves to go shopping or watch plays or laugh with the locals or slip away for secretive romps with their favorite clients. In the morning over breakfast Madam Sunu reminds them all that a Xue Heqing is still not found and thus they all should travel in groups should they want to go out. Luo Binghe quietly asks Shen Jiu who Xue Heqing is but he waves him off saying he was a man targeting pretty women near the song house but it’s no matter for him to be concerned about and that the song house is quite safe.
The pair wander through town. Shen Jiu points out delicious foods and trades song for snacks instead of passing over his hard earned coin. As soon as Luo Binghe takes a bite of a lotus crisp he whispers to Shen Jiu that he can make them better to which Shen Jiu agrees he probably could. Luo Binghe makes a mental note to prove it this evening.
The two meander through town before returning to the song house when thunder rumbles from a distance and a wall of rain can be seen fast approaching. They barely make it inside as the downpour meets them. Damp but not soaked, they still run back up to Shen Jiu’s room and shut the door. Shen Jiu stands on his tip toes to brush water droplets off the top of Luo Binghe’s head, and Luo Binghe acquiesces and tilts his head down for him to easier reach.
“Because there’s no work today,” Luo Binghe starts, looking down into Shen Jiu’s deep green eyes. “What if I taught you a few techniques today? Nothing big, without my spiritual power. But maybe I can help you with something?”
Shen Jiu’s eyes light up with excitement his face tries and fails to hide.
They spend much of an hour with Shen Jiu showing what he can do and Luo Binghe correcting him. Luo Binghe is shocked that Shen Jiu hasn’t suffered a qi deviation yet with how many things he does wrong. Everything is off or flat out wrong. Somehow he’s managed to find an abstract balance in his cobbled together cultivation just enough not to qi deviate. It reminds Luo Binghe of his own youth practicing with the incorrect sword manual and only harming his golden core, incrementally damaging himself with each repetition of incorrect movements.
“When you form the wind hand seal,” Luo Binghe explains as he manipulates Shen Jiu’s fingers for him. “Make sure your index and middle finger only touch at their base. If the tips are touching you’re doing it wrong.”
Shen Jiu looks surprised. “It’s that specific?”
Luo Binghe nods.
It’s strange to teach the face that taught him. That not only taught him but taught him wrong. With each pointer Luo Binghe almost gives Shen Jiu the wrong information out of spite but something holds him back and he corrects himself and Shen Jiu.
He finds himself quite enjoying teaching Shen Jiu. Like perhaps only his smile has, seeing the twenty year old eager to learn from Luo Binghe, reversing the roles Luo Binghe once knew, assures him that this is not Shen Qingqiu in front of him but an entirely different version of the man. A man who looks up to Luo Binghe and admits, “I wish you had access to your powers so you could show me properly. I’m sorry I haven’t done better to heal you.”
Luo Binghe squeezes Shen Jiu’s hand softly in assurance that he’s been doing well in healing him before he suddenly thinks of something. His lips curl up in a smug smile.
“There’s one way,” Luo Binghe explains. “That I can borrow small bits of spiritual energy from you even if my veins are blocked. Only enough for something small. Perhaps show you how to form a flower of energy rather than needing to pick them.”
Shen Jiu shifts closer on the bed, easily agreeing.
Luo Binghe’s hand drifts up to Shen Jiu’s cheek, brushing past his lips. “A-Jiu,” he breathes, leaning closer, “I need to kiss you.”
Shen Jiu pauses at the idea of being kissed to take what is his, but slowly he parts his lips and closes his eyes, waiting for Luo Binghe. He’s beautiful like this, waiting to be kissed. His eyelashes flutter against his cheeks which are quickly turning pink. Luo Binghe waits as long as he thinks he can to admire him without A-Jiu opening his eyes before leaning forward to meet him.
The kiss is soft at first. Two bodies unused to each other learning how to combine, tentatively exploring the other. But within a moment Luo Binghe is pulling Shen Jiu closer and deepening the kiss. Without hesitation Shen Jiu meets his intensity, grabbing onto him to keep them as one.
Luo Binghe feels it. He feels Shen Jiu’s spiritual power pressing into him. It’s a warmth passed through his lips to slide down Luo Binghe’s throat like honey, pooling in the depths of his stomach to make him feel warm and revitalized, full yet wanting more after so long without. He pushes Shen Jiu down on the bed, who easily falls back with the fluidity he displays in his dance, allowing Luo Binghe to mold him as he wills. Sprawled under Luo Binghe he wraps his arms around his neck and holds onto him tightly, only letting him go so they may each find a second of air before sinking back into the kiss.
When Luo Binghe finally pulls away Shen Jiu’s chest rises and falls heavily. His lips glisten and his cheeks are bright pink. His long dark hair splays under him to contrast the blankets making him look like he’s on a platter ready to be consumed.
Luo Binghe wants to consume him.
Instead he hovers over him, drawing his thumb and index finger together to form a small blossom of bright purple energy. He tucks it behind A-Jiu’s ear and smiles.
“Want to learn how?”
For each flower Luo Binghe makes he requires a kiss for enough energy to make it. Throughout the evening they exchange kisses for flowers long after Shen Jiu learns how. They continue to exchange kisses until the entire surface of the bed is covered in flowers of refined energy.
Eventually the candle burns down to a pool of wax threatening to blanket them in darkness. It flickers and dies, leaving the pair surrounded only by softly glowing petals. They light Shen Jiu’s eyes as he looks around in wonderment, never before getting to see such a magical array of power. Luo Binghe leans forward and kisses his forehead- the first kiss of the night not justified by an exchange of energy.
Shen Jiu jumps at the tender kiss merely for the sake of the kiss and closes his eyes to prolong the touch. Luo Binghe smiles against his forehead without pulling away.
“You really make the most beautiful flowers.” Luo Binghe croons and offers another soft kiss between his sharp eyebrows.
Shen Jiu holds his head high and replies, “Don’t question my capabilities.” His arrogance is endearing. It’s a demand to be recognized. It’s the fact that he fights so hard for everything he has and refuses to let anyone diminish it. For a brief moment Luo Binghe wonders if any aspect of Shen Qingqiu’s arrogance was rooted in a similar need but he doesn’t believe it.
For the first time he really thinks Shen Jiu and Shen Qingqiu are different people.
Shen Jiu blinks heavily and fails to fight back a yawn. Luo Binghe kisses him one more time on the forehead and wraps his arms around him. Shen Jiu lets himself be dragged down onto the bed of flowers wrapped in powerful arms connected to hands that slip under the collar of his robes to rest against his warm skin.
Luo Binghe pushes aside Shen Jiu’s long hair and kisses the nape of his neck as they lay together. One of Shen Jiu’s hands wraps around Luo Binghe’s at his waist while the other reaches out to touch one of the many flowers they lay on. Luo Binghe doesn’t need to see it to know the young man is smiling. He can feel arrogant pride radiating off him, but it’s also pride hard earned.
As he drifts off to sleep holding A-Jiu close to his chest, Luo Binghe wonders if he would be able to buy him. He possessed his shizun once as a body to be broken, but now… Now he’s one of Shen Jiu’s own and he wants to own Shen Jiu in return. He plants one more kiss to the man’s long neck and closes his eyes with a smile on his face.
The following day Luo Binghe wakes early. With the ease of years of practice he slips out of bed without waking Shen Jiu. He gives Shen Jiu a soft kiss on the lips which earns him a cute noise and quietly moves through the room straightening it up. His own blossoms of spiritual energy have faded through the the night except the one tucked behind A-Jiu’s ear, clearly unconsciously kept around by A-Jiu himself. A-Jiu’s flowers linger but are weak and translucent after so many hours passing.
Luo Binghe admires him sleeping for a long time. The soft rise and fall of his chest, the way his lips part just enough to sometimes sigh in his sleep, the way his eyelashes flutter but he doesn’t wake. He can't help but reach out to touch his cheek under his long lashes. Just a soft touch, nothing to wake him.
He watches the way his face scrunches and a tight, strained frown crosses his face before he curls in on himself to become smaller under the blankets. Luo Binghe is used to a Shen Qingqiu who didn’t feel fear until the very end when he was under Luo Binghe’s thumb. He only knew a man who stood taller, who’s face tighten in derision and displeasure, and who looked down his straight nose at Luo Binghe and poured tea over his head.
Luo Binghe crouches down next to Shen Jiu whose breathing has changed from long and drawn out to rapid inhales. Very quietly Shen Jiu murmurs something that sounds like “qige,” but Luo Binghe has no idea what qige means.
A little part of him wants to know.
He hasn’t crept into his mind yet. He thought about it from the moment he realized this is Shen Qingqiu before him. Each night he contemplated creeping into his dreams and flitting through his mind to see what his shizun is doing here in a song house serving not only entertainment but he now learns is pleasures of the flesh too. But each night something has held him back, something that tells him he can already feel his spiritual veins slowly unblocking and he could leave already if he wanted to but what keeps him bound to A-Jiu is this mystery.
If he solves the mystery he’ll have no reason to stay any longer.
Instead of pressing into his mind, Luo Binghe brushes the hair out of Shen Jiu’s face and kisses his temple before pulling on his work robes to mop the floors in Shen Jiu’s place.
Shen Jiu sleeps in late. By the time he opens his eyes birds sing outside his window and the sun is entirely up, a beam laying on the center of the floor. He tumbles out of bed and quickly composes himself. If he can guess there’s only an hour before the doors open for guests. He’s already missed breakfast for himself and the girls and worse, he’s missed all his morning chores. Someone should have woken him. Or rather, he shouldn't have slept in to begin with. He’ll have to decide between cleaning like he was assigned or helping a courtesan in training with her calligraphy like he promised yesterday.
The floors will have to wait. He can bribe someone to do a rush job for him if no one has swept them already. His top priority is the long term wellbeing of his girls even if it means letting the small details slip by him. He pulls on his clothes and hurries out of the song house and down the street to where the new girl still lives with her family.
He knows Auntie Sunu still doesn’t want them going out alone, but it’s mid morning and the streets are bustling with familiar faces.
People avoid bumping into Shen Jiu and bump into each other instead. As he walks a path clears for the blooming bud, the dancer of the wind and ways, for Shen Jiu to pass and leave a trail of his striking beauty in his wake, a memory which people will cling onto for hours to come. Shen Jiu doesn't smile as he strides through the crowd, but internally he smiles to himself. This is what power and respect feels like. This is what he's always yearned for.
Someone shouts, "A-Jiu!" but Shen Jiu doesn't look around. There's a bustling in the crowd of someone pushing through until the man stumbles out into the path cleared for him.
Yan-gongzi kicks up dust as he scrambles to his feet. The man always looks so noble and yet always acts a fool. Under most circumstances Shen Jiu would hate such a man but somehow this one in particular doesn't bother him too much. He isn’t the worst company, is easy to manipulate and pays well for time spent together.
And he got rid of Xue Heqing far better than he imagined when Shen Jiu asked, even if the man escaped after.
Shen Jiu doesn't reach out a hand to assist Yan-gongzi up. He stands and looks down on him dusting off his knees with a goofy smile saying he knows Shen Jiu thinks him a fool and looks down on him for it.
"A-Jiu," he begins again once he's straightened himself to Shen Jiu’s standard, except a few fly away hairs which Shen Jiu reaches out to brush down. Yan-gongzi reaches up to meet his hand and pulls it to his cheek before kissing his palm. "I'm leaving town in a few days. My great uncle has reached out to me, sent a letter with my father's passing inviting me to come visit him. He lives in the shadows of Cang Qiong Peak and I thought… I thought of you, A-Jiu. You said you wanted to travel. I want to buy you a proper blade, a cultivator’s sword, something more than your wintersweet. And I can pay, like when we went to the lantern festival and you toured my manor, your time is valuable to me. You’re valuable to me."
Shen Jiu can feel the eyes of everyone on the street on them. A small upwelling of smug power rises in his chest. He curls his hand under Yan-gongzi's palm to scrape across his cheek. He leans in close, close enough that his lips are right next to his ear and each breath tickles his neck.
"Master Yan," he breathes in a whisper that makes the other close his eyes and relish in the coldness of his tone. "It's highly improper to ask such a thing here in public. If I knew any better I'd think you were seeking to be scolded in front of everyone."
"I wasn't…" Yan-gongzi breathes loud enough for others on the street to hear. Shen Jiu presses his nails into the soft skin of his cheek and his words fade and breathing hitches, but there's still a satisfied smile on his face. It’s clear this is what he wanted.
"If you wanted to be scolded you should come when I'm working. I would sing and dance for you before telling you to grovel for more. But here in the streets all you'll get is dust on your knees."
He pats his cheek for good measure before drawing away. Even if he doesn’t want his ‘freedom’ bought by Yan-gongzi, he would actually like to go with him so he won’t reject him outright. Yan-gongzi is right, he's dreamed of travel and to do it as a respected courtesan means the upmost attention and care will be dedicated to the trip all while he's being paid. And spending time with Luo Binghe makes him realize how much he yearns to become more powerful.
Yan-gongzi takes an eager step forward, his hand still over the pink spot where Shen Jiu’s nails sunk into the apple of his cheeks.
"Can I at least walk you to your destination then?"
Shen Jiu almost agrees, but before he can a heavy arm wraps around his shoulder and he's pulled against a broad chest. Immediately he knows it's Luo Binghe and lets himself fall back into the embrace. Auntie Sunu must have sent him after seeing Shen Jiu leave alone even after her orders of no one wandering out of the song house alone while a murderer who targets beauties and now could hold a grudge against the song house is loose.
"He doesn't need you." Luo Binghe growls. "I have him."
“Who are you?” Yan-gongzi says, his hand drifting to his sword in an open but mild threat.
Shen Jiu’s mind flirts with a dozen answers. What should he say? Luo Binghe? A heavenly demon? A man that fell from the sky? A man he saved? His coworker? His mentor? His friend? His potential patron? …Potential lover?
Before Shen Jiu can say any of them Luo Binghe squeezes him closer and replies lightly, “I’m A-Jiu’s.”
It’s not a fraction of a statement that requires modifiers. It’s a full stop. Shen Jiu glances up at him, remembering how he told Luo Binghe he takes care of his own and he considers Luo Binghe his.
Luo Binghe smiles down at Yan-gongzi but his eyes catch the light to glint red and his demon mark, previously hidden, flares across his forehead. It’s not a friendly smile. It’s a threat. Yan-gongzi’s eyes dart from him to Shen Jiu and his hand grips around his sword ready to start a real fight in the street over Shen Jiu.
It would be interesting. He’d like to watch the two men fight over him. One has no cultivation making him inherently weaker, but the other is at a disadvantage of not having the powers he’s used to at the moment and no blade. And yet it’s not hard to see the fool Yan-gongzi would still lose so Shen Jiu offers him a sticky sweet smile and says, “Binghe and I were going to pick up our newest girl to begin her training. If you would excuse us, Master Yan. Come visit me tonight instead of debasing yourself in the street.” He begins to walk but reaches out to pat Yan-gongzi’s cheek as he goes, telling him he’s not in trouble and is expected to return to the song house.
As they walk away Luo Binghe does not remove his arm from around Shen Jiu’s waist but an unsettling energy wafts off him. It feels like anger that radiates through the air to make it thick and heavy. After turning down a street Luo Binghe asks, “Who was he?”
“A client.” Shen Jiu replies. He doesn’t like this silent anger that he can’t read or source the origin of. It’s making him feel prickly in return. “Is something wrong?”
Luo Binghe remains silent and just keeps walking Shen Jiu forward. His footfalls are heavier than before. He walks with more force behind each step. His hand tightens around Shen Jiu’s waist.
“Do you like him?”
Shen Jiu ducks around the question. “He’s a repeating patron.”
Luo Binghe falls silent. Shen Jiu shoots him inquisitive looks as they walk but doesn’t push further. Tonight he will. He’ll force Luo Binghe to acknowledge that he has many clients and that’s the way things are in the song house. But for now he has more pressing activities like finding the correct address, gathering the new girl and returning to the song house with her to begin training.
He spends most of the day with the girl while Luo Binghe is shuffled through the building with various tasks. When Shen Jiu finally passes the new courtesan off to someone else to study wind instruments he finds Luo Binghe on his hands and knees in the kitchen scrubbing the floors.
“Get up." Shen Jiu says standing over him and offers a hand down to him to take. "You don't belong on the floor all day. I have a break so let's go for a walk."
Luo Binghe pushes himself to his feet without Shen Jiu’s assistance and tidies up before rolling down his wet pants and untying his long sleeves. Shen Jiu stands on his toes to help untie the rough bun Luo Binghe pulled up and help encourage the crumpled curls to reform into their beautiful natural state.
He still isn't speaking but it seems getting on his knees a scrubbing floors is good for him. The murderous energy seems to have faded at the very least. Clearly being a noble, Shen Jiu wonders if he's ever been assigned menial tasks like scrubbing floors and chopping woods before.
Thinking this Shen Jiu grabs his hand to see how pink and smooth it is, but it tells no secrets of Luo Binghe’s past. So he closes his hand around Luo Binghe’s and drags him out of the song house back to the orchards he found him in for a short walk.
And a discussion about how Luo Binghe is not allowed to feel possessive over him, that the choice between his freedom and a man he'll choose his freedom every time.
Luo Binghe isn't upset about the man groveling on the ground in front of Shen Jiu. He sees pathetic men like that as an obstacle to step over, a speck of dust in his path that a blade can easily pass through. To him it's more entertaining to watch than worrying because he will always win.
No. What upset Luo Binghe deeply was mindlessly announcing to the man and the crowd and Shen Jiu himself that he’s his. He's Shen Jiu’s.
Even if he's been toying with those words in his mind and debating what they mean ever since Shen Jiu said it, it's entirely different for them coming from his own lips. Shen Jiu is Shen Qingqiu, no matter how different he may be. Even if Luo Binghe’s mind has tricked him into separating the two. He sees it in the way he crooks one corner of his lip up when he's feeling smug, how he bosses the other employees about like he's a peak lord, and how his eyes drift over to Luo Binghe and lock onto him entirely unwavering as if he’s planning something.
Luo Binghe reminds himself he's staying only out of curiosity, not out of actual care. He's not developing feelings for Shen Jiu. He just wants to know how his shizun found himself in a brothel.
He doesn't consider himself Shen Jiu’s. Even if it slipped off his tongue so easily and naturally. He possesses others.
And he certainly won’t let Shen Qingqiu possess him.
Shen Jiu drags him down the steep path to the orchard admonishing Luo Binghe which only sours his mood more. He stops listening to Shen Jiu entirely to watch the birds flying out of the trees startled by their approach. That’s what Shen Qingqiu should be doing right now: flying away far and fast while he can.
“Hey.” Shen Jiu says, running his hand over Luo Binghe’s arm and snapping Luo Binghe out of his own thoughts. They now stand at the center of the orchard surrounded by a ring of orange trees alternating blooming and fruiting. Soft white petals drift down on them like they did in Shen Jiu’s dance. “I don’t mean to sound so harsh. Even when you go I want you to come back for me. It’s just I don’t need anyone to come save me, you or Master Yan or Qi- or anyone else. Instead I can save myself. I just need to be clear about that so you can’t act all jealous of my clients. They’re just clients, not, not you.”
“I wasn’t jealous of anyone.”
Shen Jiu’s eyebrows rise and he gives Luo Binghe a doubtful look. “If you weren’t jealous something was clearly bothering you so spill. I don’t have the patience to play guessing games.” His tone is closer to an order but it has a soft edge to it like he really wants to know. He gives Luo Binghe the time to think by grabbing an orange and pulling it off a nearby tree. He digs his thumb into it and slowly unpeels it in a single piece without looking up at Luo Binghe.
Luo Binghe changes the subject, unwilling to admit he’s bothered by saying he’s Shen Jiu’s because if he says anything about it Shen Jiu might take back that title and like a toddler clinging to a toy he pretends he doesn’t want, Luo Binghe doesn’t want to give it back. Instead, he asks, “You want me to come back after I leave?”
“Of course I do. I’ve invested a lot of energy and money into you. I expect payment in triple.” He glances up at Luo Binghe with a smirk that tells him it’s a joke before saying, “I like being around you.”
That admission is a new tone entirely. If Luo Binghe had to put words to it he would dare to call it embarrassed. It’s the same tone and expression his second and third wives made when they admitted they liked him. As if saying he likes being around Luo Binghe might as well be a confession of love.
It jerks Luo Binghe’s emotions in two vastly different directions: one reverting back to that feeling of endearment for the twenty year old man before him that’s so pretty and rescued him to his own detriment, and the other the gnawing memory of Shen Qingqiu picking him and not wanting to be that man’s.
Shen Jiu holds out a piece of the orange he’s been peeling.
“Here.”
Luo Binghe takes it but instead of eating it himself, he raises it to Shen Jiu’s lips. He does have nice lips. They were good for kissing. They’re thin but shapely, not taking up too much of his face and letting his sharp eyes and strong cheekbones be his most prominent features. And nice when crooked up at the edges in a fractional smile. Even better when they part and laugh.
Shen Jiu’s lips do part and Luo Binghe sets the sweet fruit on his tongue. When he bites down sticky sweet juice creeps out of the side of his mouth and Luo Binghe wipes it with the edge of his thumb before licking it away.
In return Shen Jiu lifts the next segment to Luo Binghe’s lips. In this way they eat the remainder of the orange and the torn feeling in Luo Binghe’s chest diminishes in favor of enjoying the moment.
That night when they lay down together in Shen Jiu’s bed there's no pillow barricade between them and Luo Binghe drags A-Jiu over to sleep pressed against his chest. He’s not Shen Jiu’s…He’s not…
Shen Jiu restlessly shifts a lot in his sleep but Luo Binghe coos whispers and kisses the back of his neck until he settles.
Again, Luo Binghe considers slipping into A-Jiu’s dreams but doesn't.
Several more days pass in this manner. At random times Luo Binghe is struck by anger at Shen Qingqiu, and yet other times his heart melts at A-Jiu. In its own way it's extremely distressing to see that face and see two truths that cannot exist in harmony.
The pair sit together in a quiet backroom occasionally filled with soft music as Shen Jiu cleans and tunes instruments and Luo Binghe mends ripped robes. It's calm, peaceful, content.
They wake up early and cook breakfast for everyone together. Shen Jiu trips over a pot not properly tucked under the table and Luo Binghe catches him. It feels like the perfect moment to kiss him.
During a moment of downtime Shen Jiu drags Luo Binghe upstairs to teach him chess. They only play one game before Luo Binghe offers to teach Shen Jiu cultivation techniques and they quickly divest from the game and entangle to share spiritual energy.
It rains again when the two are outside hanging laundry, making them both run for cover. They stand in the entryway not going inside. Shen Jiu’s wet hair clings to his cheeks and he laughs that they might have to bring the laundry inside after all so Luo Binghe runs back into the downpour to gather the clothes. When he runs back he's soaked and shaking, unused to not having his spiritual energy to warm him. Shen Jiu draws him a hot bath and combs his fingers through his long hair, admonishing him for such a foolish choice but there's still a smile quirking his lips.
Shen Jiu resumes his work as less energy needs to be devoted to Luo Binghe. Luo Binghe loves watching him dance and play the qin, but hates when he slips into private rooms with clients for long hours. Ever since he learned Shen Jiu is trained in pleasures of the body too it's all he can think about when Shen Jiu leads a patron out of the room and watches the patron leave some time later with a spring in their step.
In the evenings Luo Binghe leaves a seat next to him at the long table for Shen Jiu to eat, but he doesn't. Instead he flits around the table checking in with everyone about their days and about their training. A few people he scolds and raps over the head with his fan making Luo Binghe’s anger flare, but after he pats them on the cheek in a wordless apology under the condition they do better before he flits to the next person calling him over to ask questions or gossip.
At night Luo Binghe strips off his upper layers and Shen Jiu places his hands square on his back. Luo Binghe closes his eyes and focuses on his long fingers, subtly shifting against his bare skin and the thin threads of spiritual energy sliding through his spiritual veins, slowly working to unblock them.
He feels at a loss when Shen Jiu pulls away and announces he thinks in three days Luo Binghe will have access to his spiritual powers again and can leave.
He tells himself it's because he's no closer to finding out why Shen Qingqiu is a courtesan here instead of a peak lord on Qing Jing Peak but he knows that's not the real reason. That’s a poor excuse for a lie he’s told himself to remain in Shen Jiu’s company.
That night it rains again and Luo Binghe shivers under the blankets without his spiritual energy or demonic qi to warm him. Instead of letting Luo Binghe wrap his arms around him, Shen Jiu repositions them so that Luo Binghe is the little spoon and spends the night channeling his spiritual energy to radiate heat to keep Luo Binghe warm.
Another day passes and it feels like an impending doom for both of them. It doesn't matter that Luo Binghe could stay after his meridians clear because it would be different.
Luo Binghe’s mood darkens at the prospect. He liked this stability and safety and company immensely and he doesn't want to give it up. He doesn't want to give A-Jiu up, so he stops seeing A-Jiu. He starts looking for his shizun in A-Jiu. He looks for his cold expressions of disdain, the way he thinks himself superior to others, the way he bullies those he's assigned to teach. He looks for any reason he can to bite back the feeling that he is A-Jiu’s person so that he'll be happy to leave rather than upset.
It's not hard to find his shizun. They share the same face, after all.
Shen Jiu ruffles his curls and calls him a little beast.
Shen Jiu shoves an ax into Luo Binghe’s hands ordering him to chop wood.
Shen Jiu believes himself better than everyone else, a smug sneer decorating his face as he watches others work while he merely walks through them, scolding and berating them for even the most minor misdeed.
Shen Ji- Qingqiu targets a bright young man approaching Madam Sunu asking to train as a courtesan, chasing him out of the song house in tears.
Shen Qingqiu dominates and is cruel to his clients in the shadows of the song house, whispering how they’re demons that should be crushed under his heel and making them beg for mercy which he does not provide.
Luo Binghe sees what he wants to see, and knowing he has to leave soon and not wanting to miss A-Jiu, he finds ways to see Shen Qingqiu again.
By the time Luo Binghe can feel a small thread of spiritual power drifting through him, Luo Binghe is glad to jerk away from Shen Jiu’s touch and pull on his robes. He shoots Shen Jiu a dark look and leaves the room without a word. That morning he quickly hugs and says his farewells to the girls in the song house and offers his thanks to Madam Sunu with the promise of returning with payment for her kindness in hosting him for so long.
He doesn't say goodbye to Shen Jiu at all though. As he was closing the door this morning he saw the hurt look on Shen Jiu’s face and told himself it's good because he wants him to hurt. It was reminiscent of the look Shen Qingqiu bore when he learned Yue Qingyuan would never come for him. It’s good. Luo Binghe wants Shen Qingqiu to feel abandoned.
…But he doesn't really want to face that expression again. Not from A-Jiu. Not about him.
He pulls on his own robes from the day he fell through the fissure and walks out of the song house through the bustling streets, away from the face that is both A-Jiu and Shen Qingqiu’s.
Is Shen Qingqiu’s.
It’s easy to leave as long as he keeps telling himself it’s Shen Qingqiu’s face.
He barely has access to his powers again, it's hardly the trickle of a stream during drought rather than a raging river crashing so he travels by foot before charming a stable maid into giving him a horse.
He travels for much of a day before deciding that even if he's going to figure out how to figure out how to leave this world and reenter his own he can't leave Shen Qingqiu in this one.
Kill him or take him he's not sure which yet.
Shen Jiu sits on his bed at a total loss for a long time, an old, painful feeling of fear and helplessness washing over him.
Luo Binghe has been acting strangely the past two days but nothing like he did when they finished the energy transfer. Nothing like jerking away and shooting him a dark look before shutting the door loud enough to make him flinch.
He slowly gets up and dresses himself. Feeling bad he picks his best robes and an expensive hair crown to hold his hair out of his face but for once the wealth he worked so hard to accumulate around himself does nothing to ease his poor mood. She Jiu stands in front of the bronze mirror fiddling with his collar before deciding he needs to talk to Luo Binghe. He doesn't know what he did to upset him and he needs to set it right.
On a practical level, he took Luo Binghe in because he's clearly a powerful and wealthy cultivator. He worked hard to ingratiate himself to Luo Binghe and it would be a waste of his efforts if Luo Binghe doesn't like him.
And on a personal level…
Ever since Qi-ge, Luo Binghe is the first person he's felt himself drawn to and wants to share what he has even if it's to his own detriment. He thought maybe after so many years he was softening and he wasn't sure that was a bad thing.
Shen Jiu hurries downstairs and pokes his head in the kitchens to see if Luo Binghe is there, then the laundry room, then an array of other rooms but he can't find him.
"What are you doing, A-Jiu?" Duan-jie asks seeing Shen Jiu pulling on outdoor boots and a cloak to check the orchards.
"Looking for Binghe. Have you seen him?"
Her expression changes abruptly. The moment she opens her mouth Shen Jiu knows the answer already, but to hear it from her lips in that horribly pitying tone grinds against him in all the wrong ways.
He should have known. And he should have known better.
Men are always the same: they put on a pretty smile in public and offer pretty promises they have no intentions of keeping. Within this men boil down into even more simpler forms: those he was stupid enough to trust and those he’s always known not to.
Qiu Jianluo he knew not to trust. The slavers he knew not to trust. Wu Yanzi he fooled himself into trusting even though he knew better. Even all his clients fall into this category because to them he is just an object to be desired and not a real person who knows pain.
Qi-Ge he trusted with all his being. He trusted his judgment even if he didn’t like it and he trusted him to come back for him even though he didn’t. And even now he’d trust him if he ever came backand he hates himself for it. If Qi-ge appeared he’d go with him without question, even if he’d never forgive him.
And as for Luo Binghe…He’d have left with Luo Binghe too, if he had asked.
He’d even seriously consider letting Luo Binghe buy him and own him, possess him in body and heart.
Luo Binghe is what he wishes he were and while that could have stirred resentment it somehow didn’t. He originally saved him out of greed for his obvious wealth and power but turned into something different entirely.
Shen Jiu pins the cloak around his shoulders. He doesn’t look at Duan-jie as he says, “I’ll be back this evening.”
“Where are you going?”
He doesn’t know exactly where he’s going, just that finding out that Luo Binghe left without saying goodbye– or rather goodbye to him and just him– means he doesn’t want to stay here right now. Maybe he’ll hire a horse and ride out of town to Yan-gongzi’s estate and stay the night like he always invites him to, or perhaps he’ll find a bar to drink away his misery, or perhaps he’ll find one of those underground fighting rings where people try to battle minor demons and each other. All he replies is “Out” before he’s walking out the door ignoring her calls.
He shouldn’t be so bothered by Luo Binghe leaving without a word except goodbyes to everyone but himself when he invested so much money, energy, and, he hates to admit, emotion into taking care of him. This is a pattern of the people in his life and he really should have hardened his heart by now not to let himself be hurt by them. Like how only he can save himself and he doesn’t need anyone, only he can control how he feels about others and he doesn’t need to be the stupid little streetrat of a child who let his leg be broken for someone else’s sake. He was stupid then and he’s stupid still but he doesn’t need to be.
At least it’s just his heart instead of his bones this time. He can walk away from this, even if he feels blood welling in the back of his throat.
Around him people bustle through the streets. For the last month it’s been raining on and off and today’s one of the first days where the sun teases the prospects of no surprise showers so everyone is enjoying their freedom from the threat of rain. Shen Jiu keeps his head down as he pushes past people, many of whom he recognizes at least a little and many he doesn’t recognize at all.
Shen Jiu passes a wealthy looking man he can immediately tell is merely visiting and subtly shoves his hand into the pouch at the man’s side, palming its contents into his sleeve. He was always better at pickpocketing than any of the other children but after so long not needing to he’s rusty. Even so, no one notices it and he slips down a dark side street to examine his prize.
A few pieces of coin and the sort of cheap necklace men like to gift the girls at the song house. He must have just bought it from a shop with the intention to visit tonight. Shen Jiu tosses the necklace onto the ground but keeps the coins before he continues moving.
He doesn’t need Luo Binghe.
He doesn’t need anyone.
He’ll save himself. He’ll screw everyone else over if it means doing so but he won’t let himself be stupid and wait for someone to save him any more.
From now on his goal isn’t to maintain a safe place at the song house but rather to buy out his contract as quickly as possible. He can then travel to a sect and demand he be taught. He can demand more respect than he gets even now as a courtesan as a proper cultivator.
So what if most people enter a sect at six and he’s now twenty. He can prove them all wrong.
Fuck Luo Binghe and his lack of goodbye. Shen Jiu will show that he doesn’t need some rich, powerful cultivator to swoop him and teach him cultivation techniques when he can do that all by himself. Like he said to Wu Yanzi the night be burned the Qiu manner: I’m capable of it. Don’t question my capabilities.
He’s capable of more than anyone believes in him. He’s endured more hardships than most would survive. Fuck Luo Binghe for having an easy life full of wealth and loving mentors to help his flourish like a white lotus in a perfectly tended pond while Shen Jiu is a weed in the middle of the road to be crushed by every foot and card that passes. Fuck Luo Binghe for having everything he’d ever want. Fuck Luo Binghe for leaving.
Fuck. Luo. Binghe.
Shen Jiu finds a tea house he’s taken patrons to several times and buys a pot with the stolen coin. He sits by the window slowly sipping from a cup that’s too hot to be drunken from yet. He doesn’t look out the window at all, only looking at the steam rising in curls off the cup in his hands.
Very slowly he begins to calm down. He can’t act rashly out of anger at being abandoned yet again.
Well, he can, but he shouldn’t. Not in a way that might reflect poorly on him as a courtesan and therefore hurt his or the girls’ business. He still cares about them even if he hates everyone else. Shen Jiu downs the rest of the tea in one gulp feeling it burn all the way down. He politely thanks the server as he exits and slowly wanders through town. He’ll stay out a little longer to burn off steam before returning to the song house. Perhaps when he gets back he’ll tell Auntie Sunu that he wants to do a private dance tonight for the highest bidder.
Shen Jiu doesn’t rush himself at all. His presence in the streets has made itself known and people step aside to watch him move. He keeps his steps even, his chin up, and his eyes forward to coldly pass over those on the streets. The sense of power he lost in Luo Binghe’s abandonment sparks again and he’s reminded why he likes being a courtesan again. No longer needing to conserve his spiritual energy to tend to Luo Binghe, Shen Jiu causes the breeze to pick up around him as he marches to billow his expensive silk and brocade robes out around him. His hair whips through the air and his long ribbon drags around him. Smugness fills him seeing people watch in awe. Wanting to do more Shen Jiu forms the hand seal Luo Binghe taught him. Flowers violently erupt from his palm and swirl around him to fill the air. More and more and more until he walks in a vortex of spiritual flowers making people gasp in total disbelief.
Only when he’s out of the main drag of town and ducks into an empty side street down does Shen Jiu let the breeze drop and flowers dissipate. He leans against a painted wood wall breathing heavily. That took more effort than he expected. His chest hurts, his vision doubles and he feels depleted in every way. He wipes away a fleck of blood on his lip from the exertion of such a powerful display. He only lets himself catch his breath for a moment before he takes a series of narrow side roads back to the song house walking with a pained step.
Along the way he keeps glancing back, having the eerie feeling of being followed.
By the time he gets back to the song house the sun proves itself a lie and the air thickens with a dense fog and drizzle that hangs in the air. It’s a relief to get inside when the cold water clings to his cloak and hair.
He doesn’t like that Luo Binghe flashes into his mind, wondering how he is in this cold, damp weather when barely any of his spiritual energy has returned. For someone named after an icy river he looks so miserable in the cold.
Shen Jiu marches straight up the stairs to Auntie Sunu’s residence where he pounds on the door. When she opens it it’s clear he woke her from a nap before the evening rush begins. She yawns and carefully rubs her eyes to not smear her makeup.
“There you are, A-Jiu.” She says and yawns again. She reaches out an arm for Shen Jiu who begrudgingly steps into the invitation of a hug. She affectionately kisses the top of his head making him feel small, like a child rather than a young man. It’s nice though because as a child he lacked this sort of tender parental embrace. “Where were you? We had to send people looking for you. You can’t just run off.”
“In town.” Shen Jiu mumbles. “I was fine. You can’t keep me trapped here.”
Auntie Sunu tightens the hug around Shen Jiu. “You know I wouldn’t do that. Come on, stop being so prickly. Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”
Shen Jiu shakes his head against her shoulder and her hand rubs over his back reassuringly. She already knows. If he won’t admit he’s hurt by Luo Binghe leaving so abruptly she’s not going to force him. She knows Shen Jiu has a hard exterior but it’s brittle. When she first took him under contract he would sit in the room he shared with three other girls and snap at them, but they would each report back to her that in the nights when he thought everyone was asleep his shoulders would silently shake with tears. Finally Duan-jie braved the puffed up cat ready to claw and climbed out of her bed to sit on the pad Shen Jiu slept on with him where he finally had his first peaceful rest in years with his head resting on her lap. A few weeks in when a guest saw him and mistook him for a courtesan, grabbing him by the hand and trying to lead him into a private room did Shen Jiu actually snap. First he froze in visible panic then he attacked with the wintersweet blade he always keeps on him. That night he spent curled next to Auntie Sunu and the following day trailed her like a puppy. It made her all the more surprised when he announced he wanted to train as a courtesan only a year ago.
Auntie Sunu kisses the top of his head again and quietly says, “It’s okay to be upset that he left.”
“I’m not.” Shen Jiu lies. He is. He really is upset. He doesn’t want to admit that he might even be heartbroken. He keeps telling people they can go and then they actually do. And then they never come back for him.
“It’s really okay if you are though.”
Shen Jiu jerks out of her arms. She lets him go. Fists clenched tightly so his nails dig into his palms, heart rate rising to make him feel too hot, Shen Jiu snarls, “Why would I care about a stupid person like him! I’d feed him to demons before so much as looking at him again! He didn’t care about us he just wanted to screw us like all those other rich men. He’s- he-” A knot is welling in his threat cutting off his air supply and his eyes burn. The only people he’s ever found himself caring about have screwed him and it hurts and he doesn’t want to admit it. His stupid heart tells him they'll come back but he knows enough now they won't and he'd be stupid to cling onto hope that anyone but himself will save him. He wants to scream that they’re all the same. That all men are Qiu Jianluo and there’s no man good in the world but even that he can’t manage to spit out. He just stands there shaking, refusing to cry like a stupid child. He may cry on cue but he won’t cry from emotions. The only useful emotion is anger because anger can be channeled into action, but with Luo Binghe abandoning him there’s no action he can take. He can just stand in the middle of the room trying not to cry and wishing there was no one here to witness it.
“I want to dance tonight.” Shen Jiu suddenly snaps, covering his face with his palms to hide his eyes and wipe his cheeks. “I want to dance and I want a private client. One that wants to hurt.”
A hand pulls his away from his face revealing the tears he’s trying to hide. Auntie Sunu wipes his cheek. “Absolutely not.”
Shen Jiu snaps, “You’d make good money.”
“Not everything is about money.”
“Yes. It is.”
Shen Jiu grapples for whatever dignity he can cling onto when he knows he has none, but Auntie Sunu snatches it away from him by wrapping him in another hug even when he struggles to break free.
“If everything is about money then you still owe me a lot. I’ll buy your nights until you calm down. I promise I pay better than any of those men. ‘Kay?”
Shen Jiu hisses but can’t argue.
He can’t bring himself to admit he just wanted to distract from the misery Luo Binghe left him by inflicting pain on someone else. He can only yield to an affectionate hug and promise that everything will be alright.
So Shen Jiu doesn’t get to perform.
His stunt in the street does mean that he doesn’t have to stay trapped in his room like Auntie Sunu intended for him. Nearly a hundred people flock to the song house and cram their way in in the hopes of seeing Shen Jiu perform. Word got out of his new abilities and powers and everyone assumed it was a preview of the night. Locals and travelers alike stand leaned against walls in every room long after the chairs and pillows along the floor are taken, watching the girls sing and dance. Many are successfully diverted into conversing with the girls and sitting down for meals, while a few stubbornly wait for Shen Jiu to come out.
Shen Jiu does come out carrying arrangements of tea. He moves through the crowd with a disgustingly sweet smile that tastes bitter on his lips and pours tea for those seated. The ones that look rich he stirs in rhododendron honey into their tea to give them a light high. The ones that look very rich, he drops a blossom of spiritual energy into their drinks to impress them. The one stupid enough to grab A-Li’s ass he pours a mild poison into his cup that will knock him down for a week or more and wish he was dead.
As the evening progresses Shen Jiu maintains his service mode. It’s good that it distracts him, switching between serving clients and helping his girls with the extra busy night.
Around midnight Shen Jiu grabs an umbrella and a lantern and hurries through what is now a total downpour. With so many guests Duan-jie has decided to sing from the opera that made her famous before becoming a courtesan, much to the crowd’s drunkenly uproarious cheers, so Shen Jiu runs through the rain and darkness to the shed Luo Binghe slept in that first night to gather the cherry wood box her elaborate costume is stored in.
The downpour clattering hard against the roof muffles his footsteps in the dark building. Inside there's a leak Shen Jiu nudges a bucket under with his toe and makes a mental note to fix it when it stops raining. He tries his hardest not to look at where the bed he made for Luo Binghe still lies, messy from when he ran through the rain to invite him back to his own bed. He tries to ignore it, to not see it, to pretend it doesn't hurt.
He can't.
He kicks the blankets dramatically letting out the bellow of frustration and discomposure he's wanted to let go of ever since he learned he was abandoned again. He balls the blankets up and throws them across the dark room issuing a vile curse that if Luo Binghe were here he'd burn him alive and throw his corpse into a pit of demons to be ripped apart.
In his hurt and frustration bursting through the dam of composed appearances, Shen Jiu fails to hear the door opening or the person slipping inside through the shadows. He doesn't hear the footsteps approaching or the hand reaching out to him or even the quiet whisper of "A-Jiu…"
Shen Jiu thuds onto his knees on the hard floor next to the improvised bed breathing heavily. He digs his fingers into his thighs and bites his lip not wanting to scream again. He has to go back inside soon so he has to compose himself. No one is allowed to know his feelings are hurt. He already humiliated himself in front of Auntie Sunu, he'd rather die than let a single guest see him so upset.
He closes his eyes and flings back his head, inhaling a deep, shaky breath.
Without warning something wraps around Shen Jiu’s throat, jerking him off-balance. He crashes to the floor and thrashes trying to claw the rope off his neck or to gouge his attacker's eyes out but the person doesn't let him. They twist the rope even tighter around his neck.
Shen Jiu forms a handseal to send a blast of spiritual energy backwards in the hopes of knocking the person back but his spiritual veins are cut off– the rope wrapping his throat and cutting off his supply of air is an immortal binding cable.
Panic fills Shen Jiu. It's the same panic that bore through him when the slavers caught him both times, except this time he knows his fate and he's going to fight to the death for his freedom.
"A-Jiu, A-Jiu, A-Jiu." A deep voice sneers through the dim light and the rope wrapped over his throat jerks again and again making him gasp in pain but he finds no air. "Precious A-Jiu deciding who gets to come watch the whores dance. Precious A-Jiu chasing good people away just because he doesn't like them. Precious A-Jiu sending his disgusting dogs after men just trying to have a little fun."
With each precious A-Jiu the man twists the cables tighter around his throat.
The person moves around him, keeping a tight grip on the cables around his neck to shove him flat and thud his weight on Shen Jiu’s chest before grabbing his hands and wrapping them in the cables too. Burning air floods back into Shen Jiu’s lungs when he releases the tension and he coughs and retches but can't expand his chest with the man weighing it down.
On his chest, now lit brightly by the lantern Shen Jiu set by the bed before his tantrum, is Xue Heqing. He'd recognize him in an instant. The man scaring his girls too much for them to feel safe leaving the song house. The man he sent Yan-gongzi to dispose of in exchange for considering buying his contract. The man known for taking and killing beauties and escaped local officials even once he was caught. The reason he wasn't supposed to go out alone and he did today anyway.
"I wasn't even planning on killing any of the whores here." Xue Heqing says with a cruel song to his voice. "I was trying to change. Just take the prettiest bits of them instead of all of their pretty little bodies. I was just going to watch at first to decide which girl. Only one! At least, until you decided to set your dog Master Yan on me for watching. Tell me, darling A-Jiu, have I even done anything wrong? Those cultivators do worse than me every day but no one looks at them. Do you know how hard it is to escape captivity, A-Jiu, or have you always had this cozy life of whoring yourself out?"
Shen Jiu struggles against him, rasping and spitting that they're not whores and he deserves to be hanged for hurting women. He gives up trying to rip off the cording crushing his throat and tries to shove his bound hands down to his thigh where his wintersweet blade is strapped. His legs are still unbound. If he can just get it he can stab the man and run. But Xue Heqing slaps his hands back and hikes up Shen Jiu’s robes himself. He glides his hand over the bare skin of this thigh with a cruel smirk and closes his fingers around the blade, drawing from its sheath.
He twists it in his hands to carefully examine the sculpted flowers and tiny jade spiritual stone inlaid in the hilt with a smile before tapping it against Shen Jiu’s cheek just under his eye, threatening to plunge it in. Shen Jiu doesn't jerk his head back or even blink. He won't show fear to this monster.
"I would take your face. In most people it's the prettiest part of them…" He presses the blade against Shen Jiu’s cheekbone with enough force to summon a white hot burn of skin splitting. Shen Jiu wants to writhe and fight but if he does he'll lose his dignity and an eye for sure. Quickly he tries to decide what's an eye worth compared to his life? It’s only flesh and bone and white hot pain. As a child he wouldn't have even considered it. And eye or a limb, what did it matter to save himself or his people? He has two eyes, what would he need them both for? But he thought that once when he was stupid enough to let his legs get broke. But back then broken legs meant no escape and placed him in Qiu Jianluo’s hands. Now his eyes and his face are the only way he can buy back his contract. They're how he can earn his freedom and Luo Binghe proved no one will ever save him. He's as alone in life as he is in this dark room pinned at the tip of his own blade.
Xue Heqing drags the blade away leaving a burning wound down his cheek. "But your face isn't the prettiest thing about you. It's too… pained. Look at you. No, no no. The best part of you has to be your legs. Those long pretty things you use to dance. Everyone likes precious A-Jiu’s legs and I want them for myself."
He slices the blade carelessly over Shen Jiu's hip making him scream out and spit at the man. He twists and writhes and tries with all his force to get out from under the man but the more he struggles the more he realizes he can't save himself. The more he realizes yet again he really is trapped and bound and this time he's going to die, the more he panics.
The man starts cutting into Shen Jiu’s thigh, slashing and sawing and cursing him for flailing, clearly planning on hacking off his leg with the tiny dagger. He tries and tries to kick him off but can't. He tries to headbutt him but can’t. He tries to twist him off but only digs the knife deeper into his own flesh making him break into a wretched sob. He tries everything he can to break free but can’t.
He can’t save himself. He’s never been able to save himself. As much as he wants to, as much as he fools himself into believing he’s capable of saving himself, he never will be able to. All his life all he’s ever needed at his core is to be saved by someone else. He needed Qi-ge, he needed Luo Binghe, and now needs anyone who isn’t himself.
He's screaming and crying and begging for anyone to save him but no one will.
No one ever does.
All day Luo Binghe rides through the sun and rain to come back for Shen Jiu. As he rides he tries to figure out if it’s love or hate bringing him back and he can’t find an answer. He hates Shen Qingqiu, but he loves Shen Jiu. That’s all he finds in his heart and the problem is they are the same person.
Luo Binghe is already totally soaked through by the time he bursts through the front doors of the song house and demands to know where Shen Jiu is. Packed full, people laugh at the idea of someone getting to demand Shen Jiu’s company on a night like tonight where everyone is straining their necks to catch a glimpse of the wind touched blossom. He’s only shown his face a few times to serve tea and not to dance nor to pick a client to lead upstairs, and even if he did it wouldn’t be this filthy, soaked wretch of a man. Luo Binghe elbows his way through the crowd until he spots Xianxian and grabs her by the shoulder.
“Where’s A-Jiu?”
“You’re back!” She replies, her face lighting up. “And you're a mess. Quick, go upstairs to dry off and change before hopping in. We need all the extra hands we can tonight.”
“No, I’m not- Where is he?”
“He’s somewhere. We’re totally swamped so he’s jumping everywhere. I’m sure you can find him. Here, take these to the kitchens.” She says, shoving an armful of dirty dishes into Luo Binghe’s hands. “And seriously, go dry off before Auntie sees you or she’ll ring you out herself.”
With no choice, Luo Binghe walks to the kitchen to deposit the dirty dishes. His boots slosh with each step. Normally he would dry himself with spiritual energy but it’s still dampened enough he doesn’t dare try to expend it. Not if he might have to fight Shen Qingqiu to take him.
As he walks he carefully peers over the crowd for that familiar face but can’t spot him anywhere. In the kitchens he gets reprimanded for being wet again and has a familiar set of charcoal employee’s robes shoved in his hands in lieu of the dishes and told to go change right away. Begrudgingly, Luo Binghe stomps up to Shen Jiu’s room thinking he might find him there and to change, but the room is empty and cold. It’s familiar though. And cozy. Luo Binghe sits on the bed in his wet clothes and runs his hands over the blankets. They’re not as nice as his but they’re still surprisingly nice given where he is. Luo Binghe flops back flat on the bed and debates just waiting here for when the song house closes and Shen Jiu returns to his room. That seems like the easiest option. That’s what he’s used to- just laying back and people coming to him.
Luo Binghe closes his eyes and relaxes into the bedding before sitting up remembering he still smells of horse and sweat and is soaked to the bone. If he wants to sleep in this bed tonight he doesn’t think Shen Jiu would let him stay in his bed if he reeks, so he gathers the employee’s robes handed to him and stands to hurry to the girls’ baths to quickly wash off the scent of travel.
Through the window he spots a light flicker in the window of the storage building he was set to sleep in those first nights he was able to move under his own weight. Staring out the window through the sheets of rain he sees a familiar silhouette backlit by the lantern moving about and tossing blankets to make the bed Luo Binghe once laid in.
Moving towards the storeroom in the darkness is another figure much bigger than Shen Jiu– clearly a man he’s invited to meet him in the storeroom to escape the eyes of the crowd downstairs.
Deep rooted anger and jealousy plunge through Luo Binghe’s chest. Shen Jiu told him he’s not allowed to be jealous of him and his job but that doesn't matter. Luo Binghe came back for him because Shen Jiu is his and he’s Shen Jiu’s. He doesn’t want to be cast aside. He doesn’t just want to be someone wanted because of wealth and power and sex only to be discarded easily.
He just wants to be wanted. All he’s ever wanted was to be chosen and wanted and loved in a raw, earnest way that passionate affairs of lust can never achieve, but he’s only ever been cast aside.
Luo Binghe charges through the rain, anger growing seeing the silhouette of the man approaching Shen Jiu and wrapping him in a hug before the two sink onto the bed entwined.
Luo Binghe doesn’t burst through the door immediately. Instead he stands outside the window staring in at the scene of the man sitting on Shen Jiu’s chest bent forward whispering sweet words in his ear. He can’t see Shen Jiu’s expression, nor the broad man’s face. He can just see the two of them twisted together on the bed made by Shen Jiu for them to entangle in.
All Luo Binghe can see is red.
Until he sees red.
The man draws away and drags a knife over Shen Jiu’s thigh making him scream out and start to struggle and fight, but the man pins him down with an elbow over his throat and keeps sawing at his leg.
Luo Binghe watches, completely frozen and entranced by the flow of dark red shimmering in the lantern light. The expression on Shen Jiu’s face is the exact same as when he tore off his limbs only a few years before. There’s fear and panic and pain, but also determined resolution to not beg… at least until Luo Binghe chained him up by the torso and announced his limbs would be sent to Yue Qingyuan. But now there is no Yue Qingyuan, there is only Shen Qingqiu’s fear and pain. It’s captivating and transfixing. Luo Binghe wonders if this is what he looked like too… except he ripped Shen Qingqiu’s limbs apart rather than hacked through it with a cheap, old knife.
And then a fresh scream jolts Luo Binghe out of his memories. A wretched sobbing cry for it to stop, for someone, anyone , to come save him, for it all to end, for him to just die this time. Shen Qingqiu screamed like this too… but it’s different this time–this isn’t Shen Qingqiu.
This is A-Jiu.
A-Jiu isn’t Shen Qingqiu. He hates the character Qiu.
He’s A-Jiu who saved him when he didn’t need to. Who holds him when he’s cold and kisses him when he wants to borrow spiritual energy. Who smiles and laughs and likes slipping sweet treats into his cheeks to suck on for hours. Who is a courtesan at the Frosted Lotus song house by some strange twist of fate.
Who called Luo Binghe one of his own.
He doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want A-Jiu hurt or dead or turned into a human stick. He wants A-Jiu back in his arms and telling him he likes his company and wants him to come back for him.
Luo Binghe kicks open the storeroom door. It clatters and clangs with the force of the sleet and wind howling with the rain. Dark qi pulls in long tendrils off Luo Binghe, radiating outwards with his anger. Luo Binghe doesn’t need the light of the lantern to shine on him to cut an imposing figure in the doorway as his demon mark flares brightly over his forehead. In his hand Xin Mo appears, exaggerated in size by his anger.
“Get off him.” He snarls in a low growl and steps one pace into the room leaving a trail of water behind him. “He’s mine.”
The man scrambles off Shen Jiu but grabs him by the ropes wrapping his neck, dragging him up over himself to use as a human shield. One hand holds the ropes so tightly that no matter how Shen Jiu weakly tries to claw him off so he can breathe there’s no escape, while the other presses the crimson tip of the blade into Shen Jiu’s throat drawing a fine stream of blood.
“You don’t know what you’re doing.” The man barks back and presses the blade deeper into soft flesh to create a steady stream so dark it looks black in the candlelight. “I’ve killed worse than you. Take another step and the whore’s dead.”
Luo Binghe doesn’t look at the man holding Shen Jiu captive at all, instead at A-Jiu himself.
Held as a human shield, Shen Jiu tries to tug back the rope digging into his neck as he rasps for air, certain he’ll choke to death before he bleeds out. Tears run down his cheeks and mix with blood of the wound under his eye. Every time he tries to struggle and break away he gasps in pain from his cut open thigh, losing air he can’t afford to lose.
This man does not scare Luo Binghe. He’s faced the Endless Abyss. He’s faced demons both corporeal and abstract. This man is merely a bug to be crushed. The only concern is that he can’t crush A-Jiu by accident.
In a dangerous calm, Luo Binghe replies, “You haven’t met anything like me.” His voice is amplified by the dark energy pulled out of him by Xin Mo, echoing it throughout the room so it surrounds the man with a blade to A-Jiu’s throat.
The wind from the open door behind Luo Binghe kicks up his wet robes and blows out the candle within the lantern.
In the moment of pitch black Luo Binghe moves. He’s too fast for the man to even react before the wintersweet knife is ripped out of his hands and plunged through his heart and A-Jiu is pulled from Luo Binghe’s arms.
He doesn’t care if this man is alive or dead. He doesn’t care if he gets away. All he cares about is Shen Jiu who is clinging to him gasping and sobbing into his chest. Luo Binghe wraps him in his arms and pulls his traveling cloak over them as much as he can to protect him from the onslaught of rain and sprints with him back to the main building.
He has to force his way through the jammed packed halls as music gently floats through the air of the song house and people laugh and jest and imbibe copious amounts of wine and tea. As he forces his way through the halls people go silent at the man carrying a covered sobbing person leaving a trail of mud and blood in his wake. Luo Binghe doesn’t care though. Everything is beneath his concern except for A-Jiu. He knocks people over until he reaches the stairs.
Xianxian is the first of the girls to notice him as she moves through the rooms with bottles of wine. She drops the bottle and runs to him halfway up the stairs to catch up.
“What happened– Is that A-Jiu? What’s all that blood! Luo Binghe! What- What's going on!?”
“Get warm water.” Luo Binghe says ignoring her distressed cry. “And get the madam and all your medical supplies. I’m taking him to his room.”
Shaking, Xianxian runs away and is quickly replaced by A-Li and Gao Xinran sprinting up the stairs. The music stills and questioning voices rise from the ground floor at the news of Luo Binghe forcing his way through the crowd with a bloody person spreads quickly. A few of the courtesans can be heard trying to quell their concerns and shuffle them out into the rain but their own fear and emotions hinder their authority.
Luo Binghe gingerly lowers Shen Jiu on the bed, but Shen Jiu doesn’t loosen his grip on him at all. Luo Binghe remains bent so A-Jiu can keep clinging to his collar, keeping his face buried in his wet robes and sobbing. Carefully, Luo Binghe unwraps the red cable still looped around Shen Jiu’s throat leaving dark red welts that will bruise and cuts the robes binding Shen Jiu’s hands with the knife handed to him by Gao Xinran. To his side A-Li works on pulling away Shen Jiu’s ripped robes to get to the wounds staining his thigh a deep red, giving up and cutting them away with the knife Luo Binghe sets aside.
This is the first time any of them have seen Shen Jiu crumble completely, sobbing and shaking and gasping words none of them can make out. The girls work tending his thigh, led by Madam Sunu shoving her way into the room while Luo Binghe cradles him and supports him. He kisses his temple and wipes away his constantly replenishing tears, promising that he’s okay and safe. It doesn’t matter though, because Shen Jiu quivers and clings to him like a lifeline, mumbling over and over. Faintly it sounds like you came back but Luo Binghe can’t be sure from how his face is pressed against his chest.
After all his wounds are tended to and the immediate panic of how much blood was shed passes, the tension in the air lessens and everyone can breathe again. The song house is empty now, the evening ended early in the panic. Only the rain clattering on the roof and the noise of people gossiping on the streets outside fills the building now.
Shen Jiu is carried to the baths full of spirit stones and lowered into the water. His wounds are carefully washed by the girls trained in helping others bathe and washing away aches and pains before being bandaged and wrapped in soft fabrics meant for lounging. Luo Binghe hovers over them the whole time, keeping within an arm's reach of Shen Jiu. Not that he could get any further as Shen Jiu keeps his arm outstretched and his fingers tightly wrapped around Luo Binghe’s.
At the same time the blood soaked bedding is changed and food for restoring strength is hurriedly prepared while someone runs through the rain for a physician. Everyone is tense and anxious and looking for some way to help.
Much later Luo Binghe sits on the bed with Shen Jiu still curled in his lap having just fallen asleep now his neck and thigh are covered in a numbing balm procured by a frenzied search in town. The girls come sit in the room too as their presence seems to calm him most even though he won’t let go of Luo Binghe. Even asleep he clings tightly to his filthy robes.
Duan-jie quietly enters the room around two in the morning and hands Luo Binghe a hot bowl of soup before sitting down on the bed next to them, stroking the matted hair off Shen Jiu’s shoulder. Luo Binghe adjusts Shen Jiu in his arms and starts to eat. It’s warm and rich and filling. He didn’t realize how hungry he was with the deep void of anxiety filling his stomach.
“Thank you,” She says quietly. Her fingers hover over the cut on A-Jiu’s cheek that almost extends up into his eye. “For saving him.”
“How could I not?” Luo Binghe whispers back. He ignores the guilt that he almost didn’t, and in one version of Shen Jiu he actually didn’t. Worse, he was the one carving him apart. He shakes himself of the thought and asks, “About the man?”
“Dead. Xue Heqing is dead. Authorities came to collect his body to make sure he’s not faking it since that’s how he escaped. What exactly happened?”
Luo Binghe looks down at Shen Jiu sleeping with his eyes clenched shut in a distressed slumber. “I’ll tell you all tomorrow.”
She hums in agreement before suddenly reaching out and flicking Luo Binghe on the shoulder. “The fuck was that? Where’d you go? Why didn’t you say anything to him?”
“Ow!” Luo Binghe hisses gesturing at the bowl of half eaten soup in his hands. She gives him the sort of disapproving look a big sister would give to someone who broke her little brother’s heart. It works. It makes Luo Binghe’s guilt double and triple when she hisses, “He was really upset.”
Luo Binghe drops his gaze to Shen Jiu who scrunches his nose and makes a small pained noise before clinging tighter to Luo Binghe in his sleep. He tentatively tries to channel some warming energy into him. He has very little with the blockage in his spiritual veins just now clearing and expending so much of himself in the fight, but he manages a little. With Duan-jie’s eyes boring into him he can’t bite his thumb and press a drop of crimson blood between Shen Jiu’s lips to help alleviate his pain, but once the room is empty he will.
“...Sorry.”
“I’m not the one you need to tell that to.”
Luo Binghe grunts but doesn’t reply. Her expression softens. “Here, I’ll sit with him for a bit. Go dry off and get warm. You’re really living up to your name right now. Keep being an icey brick and you’ll make him sick on top of it all.”
Very carefully the pair unlock his grip and shift Shen Jiu into Duan-jie’s lap. Luo Binghe is forced to make his way to the baths. Only now does he realize he’s still covered in blood in addition to rain and grime of travel.
His bath is very quick and can only be called lukewarm, but it's enough to rid him of the icy chill that could be passed on to A-Jiu. As quick as he can he’s back in Shen Jiu’s room and slipping onto the far side of the bed with A-Jiu between himself and Duan-jie. Very carefully he lays his hand over the carved hip and starts channeling a soothing energy into it.
After a long time Duan-jie leaves with his empty soup bowl, promising to come back in a little while to check on them. Luo Binghe pricks his thumb and presses it against Shen Jiu’s lips. Immediately his blood parasites move through his body and begin to heal him and alleviate any pain within him. It’s slower than usual but it’s better than nothing.
Just as Luo Binghe is finally drifting off to sleep Shen Jiu shifts, abruptly waking at the pain of movement and looking around in panic.
“Shhhh” Luo Binghe whispers. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”
Shen Jiu stares up at him with wide eyes of disbelief in the dim light of a single ever burning candle across the room. Even when Luo Binghe’s hand brushes over his cheek to cradle his face he doesn’t close his eyes.
“You…” his voice is hoarse from being choked and screaming for all he’s worth. “You came back.”
Shen Jiu is so small and hurt staring up at him. He looks nothing like Shen Qingqiu. He only looks like A-Jiu.
Luo Binghe presses a kiss to the bridge of Shen Jiu’s nose. “I couldn’t leave you behind.”
“I thought you weren’t coming back.” Shen Jiu inhales deeply. It’s shaky, even more so when he releases the breath. Luo Binghe can’t reply because he wasn’t planning to come back and it was anger that dragged him back instead of love. He feels none of that anger now though.
Face buried in Luo Binghe’s fresh robes Shen Jiu says, “You saved me.”
“Mn.”
“...No one’s ever saved me before….. No one’s come back for me….”
It’s pity that strikes Lou Binghe first at those words. Pity because Shen Jiu does have people to save him. Madam Sunu saved him once by buying him from slavers. The girls of the song house threw everything aside to help save him only two hours ago. And in the other world, the one before the fissure threw Luo Binghe here, Yue Qingyuan tried desperately to save Shen Qingqiu. He even drew Xuan Su on Luo Binghe. He failed to save him, but he died trying.
Luo Binghe doesn’t say any of that. Instead he quietly admits, “I’m yours.”
He wants to be A-Jiu’s. He wants someone who wants to take him in and love him and won’t abandon him ever.
Shen Jiu looks up at him with teary eyes that glisten in the candle light. “You’re mine…my savior.”
Shen Jiu chose Luo Binghe.
Luo Binghe saved Shen Jiu.
After
Shen Jiu refuses to acknowledge what happened that night to anyone. He’s a prideful man who won’t admit his weakness, so despite the fact that he limps everywhere and it’s been almost two weeks and is still unable to sing or dance he ignores the questions entirely. It only makes his patrons more inquisitive and throwing even more gold at him to share a private tea to converse even if his voice is rough and fractured. A few Shen Jiu agrees to. Mostly the ones he’s familiar with and finds tolerable and knows without question he can steer the conversation however he pleases.
Today he sits not with a patron but with the girl he and Luo Binghe picked up from her house weeks ago, teaching her the virtues of chess. She hasn’t been able to come close to beating him yet but there are few who can. And she is rapidly improving with each day’s play.
Today they’ve been at it for several hours but Shen Jiu has no intention of cutting her slack or giving her a break. Normally he might have already passed her off to someone else to learn a new skill but today he doesn’t want to for one simple reason: Luo Binghe is gone.
Not gone gone. He promised he’s coming back within one more day. He’s gone because his meridians are strong enough to force open the fissure he fell through again and return to his own world once more. He told Shen Jiu there are a few loose ends he needs to tie away and to get his wealth before coming back. And once he’s back he’ll buy Shen Jiu’s contract outright.
It’s taken Shen Jiu a lot to grapple with the idea of someone buying the remainder of his contract but the one thing he’s learned from that night is that he really can’t save himself. He never has been able to and while he won’t admit it, he will accept Luo Binghe’s gift of his freedom.
He’s not leaving the song house though. This is his home and these are his people, just like Luo Binghe is his person.
…he might consider moving into a house of their own within walking distance if Luo Binghe brings enough money to buy one, but only if it’s exceedingly nice. He has his eyes on one he knows he could bully the current owner out of.
While he explains what the girl did wrong his hand under the table slips to his thigh to rest on the blade strapped to it. It’s not his wintersweet blade. After that night he didn’t want it back. It was stained with too much of his own blood over the years, even if this was the first time he’d been stabbed with it. Instead on his thigh is Xin Mo shrunk to the size of a dagger. Luo Binghe promised that in the coming months, once Shen Jiu is strong enough, he’ll take him all the way to Huan Hua Palace to find him a proper blade, but for now Shen Jiu can make do with Luo Binghe’s own in his absence. It’s cooler and heavier than his wintersweet blade but it gives his traitorously faint heart more confidence while his savior is away.
Not that he’d let those words slip past his lips again.
Only after another hour of tutoring chess does Shen Jiu release the girl and her headache from thinking too much. He limps leaning on the walls and furniture to dust and straighten the room before sitting down to rest. His body still aches. Ever since Luo Binghe left his hip has been hurting more, as if mere proximity to Luo Binghe makes it hurt less. Luo Binghe did tell him about the blood parasites and warned him that stepping through the fissure might break his connection to them but Shen Jiu isn’t sure that’s what hurts more. It might just be the fact that being near Luo Binghe is comforting and he can’t rid himself of the fear that Luo Binghe won’t come back.
Throughout the remaining day he can’t focus and jumps from task to task not wanting to rest. He wonders when Luo Binghe will get back. Whenever he passes a window he glances out it in the hopes of seeing that broad figure but there’s only people he cares not for passing on the street outside. It’s finally stopped raining so many people are out and about in the warming sun. Duan-jie catches him moping about despite his snappish insistence that he’s not. She drags him into the kitchen to help her peel and juice oranges to turn into a glaze to pour over the cakes made for dessert. Shen Jiu is only on his fourth orange before A-Li sticks her head into the kitchen and fans herself dramatically. “A-Jiu! Luo Binghe’s back and my, he looks good.”
Shen Jiu sprints through the kitchen. It takes all his restraint to compose himself and walk with dignity through the song house to the front entrance.
Riding up the center of the street on a void black horse of demonic ancestry is Luo Binghe. People cross the street to clear the way with curious whispers at the handsome man they thought was a lowly floor scrubber. His hair is down and shining with the curls Shen Jiu told him he likes and his rich blackish-crimson robes glint in the direct sunlight to contrast the bare skin of the deep V exposing his chest. His eyes glaze over the crowds of people with no care in the world for them but lock onto Shen Jiu standing on the porch of the song house, surrounded by bright ribbons dragging in the breeze to create a scene worthy of a painting immortalized in the grandest of halls.
Now quick approaching on the trotting horse, Luo Binghe doesn’t just look like a lord. He looks like an emperor. He looks like the power Shen Jiu has always yearned for so much as brushing up against yet alone having for his own.
Shen Jiu stands in the doorway stunned at the sight in front of him in shock. Luo Binghe leaps down from the demonic horse and strides over to him to clasp his hands within his home with a wide smile.
“I’ve returned to buy you, A-Jiu.”
Shen Jiu jerks his hands back at the reunion ruined but he can’t stop the warm feeling bubbling in his chest. Half a joke, half instinct he asks, “Who said I want to be bought by you?”
“I did. And you did.” Luo Binghe says. He wraps his arm around Shen Jiu’s waist to rest over his sore hip. Immediately it blooms with warmth and the low but constant throbbing vanishes entirely. Shen Jiu leans his head against Luo Binghe.
With his other hand he hands Shen Jiu a small qiankun bag that Shen Jiu opens to see it full to the drawstrings with gold ingots and spirit stones. It’s far more wealth than he’s held in his life and he thinks it has to be more than he’s ever seen. He can’t help but look up at Luo Binghe wondering who the hell he actually is in his own world because he certainly can’t be just a demon lord.
Luo Binghe smiles down at him and touches the light scar left just under his eye by Xue Heqing. “Think that’s enough?”
“Mhmm.” Shen Jiu hums looking back into the bag again before drawing its strings shut. It’ll be more than enough. He only owes Auntie Sunu another year’s work to buy out his contract. This is enough to buy a century of contracts. He hands the bag back to Luo Binghe but Luo Binghe pushes it back down to him. “That’s a gift for you. The money for Madam Sunu is here.”
He pulls out another much smaller bag and shakes it.
Shen Jiu doesn’t question the gift and instead just pockets it. He justifies it to himself as it's less a gift and more a repayment for saving Luo Binghe’s life. The pair make their way up to Auntie Sunu’s office where Luo Binghe buys the contract Auntie Sunu made five years ago when she bought Shen Jiu from the slavers. His eyes pass over it, slowing when he reads the part about recouping the cost from the slavers. Shen Jiu shifts uncomfortably at Luo Binghe learning such a weak part of his past, but then Luo Binghe hands the paper down to Shen Jiu.
Like Luo Binghe taught him before he left, Shen Jiu channels his energy through his fingers to explode the paper into thousands of pieces that dissolve as they dance towards the floor. Shen Jiu can’t help but smile broadly as a weight is lifted off his shoulders.
He’s now free. Finally free. It doesn’t matter if he wants to stay here and continue as he has with Luo Binghe by his side, it makes all the difference in the world to finally be free for the first time in his entire life.
He’s his own person and only his.
He belongs to no one. He owes no one. He has total control over his fates and his destiny and no one can stop him because he owns himself. He didn’t save himself entirely alone like he always thought he would, but he has been saved.
Luo Binghe slides another, much heavier pouch across the table to Auntie Sunu. Confused Shen Jiu asks what’s that for.
“I’m buying a share of the song house.” Luo Binghe explains. “Fix up some of the leaking roofs, maybe hire help. And better security. Everyone can reduce their chores and have fewer clients. Only the ones they want, too.” He taps Shen Jiu’s hip with his index finger, “And I’ll teach cultivation techniques so you don’t nearly qi deviate every month.”
“I never qi deviated!” Shen Jiu defends himself but Luo Binghe sees through the lie and smirks.
A month passes and it’s exactly as Luo Binghe said. With his funds the song house reduces its clientele so the girls and Shen Jiu can only accept who they want to. The small aspects that had been neglected are fixed and whatever can be polished is. What was a highly respected song house quickly becomes unfathomably exclusive and revered, only open to a select few.
Luo Binghe and Shen Jiu don’t move into the house Shen Jiu was covetously eyeing, instead moving into an even grander manor just outside town that Luo Binghe walks through and announces it’s small but will do. Shen Jiu doesn’t understand how this could be considered small. It’s far larger than the song house or even the Qiu manor. To him it’s large enough to need to hire cooks and cleaners and landscapers to keep it looking pristine. To be bigger one would need to live in a palace.
And yet even with the grand house the two find themselves renting and living in Shen Jiu’s room at the song house where they first met, took care of each other, and realized they need each other. Everything is nicer in it now. Many of the replicas of luxuries Shen Jiu saved up for have been replaced by the real things: an ornate rug that radiates warmth on cold mornings so Shen Jiu’s toes never freeze leaving bed, pottery from throughout the cultivation world holding rare flowers that make the room smell light and sweet, jewelry made of pure golds and silvers rather than plated and now inlaid with the most powerful spiritual stones instead of mid-tier gems. Anything Shen Jiu could want he gets in a moment as Luo Binghe is eager to shower him in expensive gifts.
The girls of the song house love Luo Binghe too. They always have except for the moments after he left and Shen Jiu was so upset. But especially now since he thoroughly enjoys spoiling them as well. Nowhere to the same degree as his beloved Shen Jiu, but each receives regular gifts from Luo-ge when he finds something that feels right. Afterall, he’s Shen Jiu’s person and they love their A-Jiu deeply like a brother, so they’re family.
He’s never had a family before now.
Luo Binghe lounges on the bed partially dressed. From the open window a soft melody of pipa accompanying song drifts through the window from someone practicing outside on the grass, along with the soft scent of spring flowers and the chortle of contented birds seeking mates. Luo Binghe pulls Shen Jiu closer and kisses his cheek, pleased that he doesn't need to hunt for mates anymore.
Before, Luo Binghe let women throw themselves at him because he pitied them and tried to be a good man thinking it was what good men do. Then after the Endless Abyss he sought women to staunch the ceaseless bleeding feeling he felt at all times. But he no longer hemorrhages loneliness with A-Jiu curled in his arms lightly dozing.
Shen Jiu makes a small noise but doesn't wake. Instead he curls tighter against Luo Binghe’s chest. Luo Binghe lays his hand over the injured hip and focuses on sending his blood parasites to relieve the twinge of movement near the cut away muscle.
He lies like this for a long time until Shen Jiu naturally wakes from his nap. While he waits he toys with Shen Jiu’s soft hair and forms a plan for the day.
He wants to teach A-Jiu to use a sword to fly. Shen Jiu demands independence even if he's as clingy to Luo Binghe as Luo Binghe is to him and Luo Binghe thinks he would like to be able to step on a sword and sail high above those trivial people beneath his care….as long as Luo Binghe gets to cling to his waist and rest his chin on his shoulder as they soar through the sky. But the first step to teaching Shen Jiu to fly is to get him a sword of his own.
And perhaps Luo Binghe might pick out a new sword too. Something about always being strapped to Shen Jiu's beautiful thigh seems to sate Xin Mo more than anything else ever has and Luo Binghe might want to leave it there indefinitely. Plus A-Jiu seems happier with a blade strapped to him at all times, and having one he need only form a hand seal to retrieve rather than struggle to grab brings him comfort after that night his own wintersweet blade was turned against its master.
So before teaching Shen Jiu to fly, Luo Binghe needs to take him to a proper sect to get him a sword. A little piece of Luo Binghe wonders if he should bring him to Cang Qiong Mountain. He knows the weaponry there is amongst the most refined in the cultivation world and he wants the best for A-Jiu... but he knows how Yue Qingyuan was someone Shen Qingqiu cared deeply about and was a point of weakness in his final months and even if this world seems to be before his own time on the peak Yue Qingyuan is surely there.
It might be good to one day tell A-Jiu where Yue Qingyuan is and learn if he’s someone who matters to him, but for now he won't. Perhaps in the future he'll consider it but that day is not today. Instead he’ll take him to Huan Hua Palace. Even if this other world before his time he’s certain he has enough spirit stones for a good sword and enough of the sect’s well kept secrets for the best sword. He knows A-Jiu will be able to get whatever blade he best sees fit.
Shen Just shifts and nuzzles into Luo Binghe’s chest, clearly appreciating the sunbeam drifting through the window onto his back.
It takes a good hour before the sunbeam moves off Shen Jiu and he wakes. It takes yet another before he’s ready to leave. Luo Binghe holds out his hand and Shen Jiu steps up onto Xin Mo. Arms wrapped tightly around A-Jiu’s waist, the two rise high into the air under Luo Binghe’s power. Shen Jiu clings tightly to his clasped hands but pretends to be unaffected by the height even when wind gusts shake them and whip their hair about.
Luo Binghe kisses his cheek and asks "Okay?"
Shen Jiu's eyes are clamped shut and he grunts affirmation but tightens his grip on Luo Binghe, fully depending on him to keep from falling. It satisfies a deep need within Luo Binghe to be held so tightly.
"We're almost there. Have you ever flown before?"
"Of course." Shen Jiu snaps but Luo Binghe can tell he may have flown but nothing like this. There's a difference between a dozen feet in the air and flying high over mountains as cold winds slam against you.
When they land Shen Jiu is pale and doesn't shake Luo Binghe off as he might have elsewhere. Instead he burrows his ice cold hands into Luo Binghe’s sleeves to steal his warmth. Luo Binghe leads him through the complex passages to the main steps to the high halls of the sect and demands visitation with the palace master. There he recites tightly held secrets of the sect with a sardonic smirk and demands entry to their armory. He cuts such an imposing figure in size and knowledge that the palace master dares not refuse him.
It’s fun to watch Shen Jiu swell with arrogant pride as he marches through the halls of the sect half a step behind the palace master who differentially leads the pair. Like when he’s dancing, A-Jiu’s feet are light and slide over the floor as though carried by the wind, a little of which picks up around him to billow his robes and drag his ribbons and hair behind him. He commands the attention of everyone they pass, both daring them to look and daring them not to.
Following closely, Luo Binghe towers over Shen Jiu and radiates darkness, daring anyone to stop them and lose their heads or worse. But when Shen Jiu pauses and looks back at him all of Luo Binghe’s demonic murderous intent falls away and he beams at his A-Jiu, speeding up to slip his hand into the open palm offered.
In the vault near the forges Luo Binghe and Shen Jiu examine the walls of weapons. Luo Binghe recognizes many of them, carried by those he knew or killed or wed but have not yet come to find their spiritual devices in this world. He flips through a few of them with vague disinterest, tossing aside the whip with barbed edges the little palace miss used to carry around.
Shen Jiu is not far away examining a sword with bamboo shoots carved into the wooden sheath. Each leaf is inlaid with a deep green spirit stone. He draws the sword and studies its blade also engraved in complex patterns down the center, a wonderfully perplexed expression crossing his face that Shen Qingqiu would never show.
“What’s wrong?” Luo Binghe asks sliding up to him and wrapping him from behind to look at the blade too.
Shen Jiu spins the sword in his hands to look at the other side. He’s silent before he admits, “I just don’t know if it’s any good. I never studied swords.”
“Hmm. That’s okay. I’ll help you” Luo Binghe runs his fingers over the blade and the patterns undulate under the surface in reaction to his qi. “You’re naturally drawn to power, aren’t you? This one is particularly powerful. Something suited for a sect leader.”
Shen Jiu holds it even tighter as if in anxiety that Luo Binghe will tell him to put it back. But Luo Binghe doesn’t. He instead guides Shen Jiu’s hands to sheath it and whispers, “It’s power suits you, A-Jiu.”
Shen Jiu makes a pleased noise. Having been told it’s okay not to know everything and recognizing that Luo Binghe won’t demean him by telling him that he’s not good enough for a powerful blade despite his weak core and low cultivation he loosens his grip and points to another weapon whose hilt is solid spirit stones, demanding Luo Binghe tell him about it.
Over the course of the entire afternoon Shen Jiu and Luo Binghe move through the armory exploring the weapons. Some Luo Binghe breaks in disinterest in their future owners having such weapons. Others Shen Jiu picks up and tosses aside to clatter on the floor, deeming them not handsome enough or powerful enough or just leaving an unpleasant feeling on his hands. Others Luo Binghe tells Shen Jiu about it’s properties and strength, sometimes from memory while other times from investigating the weapons for the first time.
They finally settle on two weapons for Shen Jiu: the sword engraved with bamboo shrunk down to the size of his forearm to sit on his unharmed hip, and a silk fan painted with a mountain scene worthy of only the finest scholars. Shen Jiu holds them both and overflows with joy at having weapons worthy of a cultivator instead of a knife tossed to him by a man who sold him to slavers for a cheap coin and was used to cut him open.
It’s really cute, Luo Binghe thinks to himself. There’s almost a childish pride that A-Jiu must have stolen away from him in his youth. Luo Binghe desperately wants to give him more chances to reclaim such feelings just like how he wants to find those chances for himself to take back what Shen Qingqiu took from him. Together they may find it.
Luo Binghe also grabs himself a heavy sword so Xin Mo can reside permanently on Shen Jiu’s thigh. The pair step on his new sword and soar high over the palace grounds, flying just far enough away that no one will find them.
In a quiet clearing dampled in sunlight Luo Binghe lands and begins to teach A-Jiu how to fly.
Part of flying by sword is intrinsic for all cultivators but it is a skill to be learned and honed. Shen Jiu struggles to support himself and snaps at Luo Binghe, but when Luo Binghe steps on the sword too and peppers kisses over the back of his neck to pass spiritual energy into his weak core Shen Jiu has enough strength to support them both on the engraved blade a few inches off the ground.
Luo Binghe keeps one hand pressed to the lowest point of Shen Jiu’s stomach where his golden core is settled. He curls his fingers to drag along the thin fabric separating them and pulling him in tight enough to become one body on the blade.
“Feel it here,” Luo Binghe rumbles into his ear to make Shen Jiu shiver. “That heat rising in you. That’s your power A-Jiu. It’s all yours.”
Shen Jiu nods and swallows hard so Luo Binghe prods further to evoke A-Jiu’s forceful will. “You can do this. You picked the most powerful sword all of Huan Hua Palace has to offer, prove that it’s worthy of you. Make it work for you.”
“I can do this.” Shen Jiu repeats with more determination than his youthful body should be able to hold. “Don’t question what I can do.”
“I never would.”
The sword shakes and buffets in the strong wind but Shen Jiu manages to lift them high over the treeline and slowly make their way back to the song house. The entire time Luo Binghe keeps his hand on Shen Jiu’s stomach and passes him energy through kisses to his cheek and ear and back of his neck.
All of Shen Jiu’s flustered appearance supporting them both vanishes the moment he sees the song house. Determined never to look weak he straightens his back and adjusts his hair, slowly weaving over the streets of town with Luo Binghe hugging his back for everyone to see. People peer out of windows and stare up at him, whispering amongst each other about him as he glides over town determined not to tumble off the sword.
He does tumble off the sword, right at the front door of the song house the moment his feet touch the ground. Fatigued and aching, he trips over his own foot right in front of A-Li watching them landing in awe, sitting on the railing holding an armful of silks to be hanged from the crossbeams of the entryway.
"I got you." Luo Binghe says, catching him by his waist.
"I'm fine!" Shen Jiu hisses slapping him off in embarrassment that he had to trip after he successfully landed right where everyone could see. His leg aches from standing for so long and he's cold from the harsh wind and his spiritual energy is entirely drained. He’ll be useless tonight except for conversing or playing a melody on the qin to fill the background of everyone else working.
Luo Binghe ignores him entirely and scoops him into his arms, carrying him into the song house. A-Li trots beside them asking, "Did you find a good sword, A-Jiu? Can I see it?"
Shen Jiu ignores the indignity of being carried because Luo Binghe will not put him down now that he’s in his arms and passes her the sword to look at. From above in Luo Binghe’s arms he watches her face light up, running her fingers over the wooden sheath before half drawing it to study the blade.
"It's magnificent," she announces resheathing it and passing it back up to him. "It's really perfect for you."
Shen Jiu hums before asking, "Aren't you supposed to memorizing the new poetry books Auntie Sunu bought?"
A-Li looks guilty and hides by opening the door to Shen Jiu and Luo Binghe’s room.
"Kind of.” She answers popping her head out from behind the protective door. “But, well, Shu Liangji proposed marriage and I couldn't concentrate so I thought I’d take down the ribbons on the porch and replace them because they’re kind of drab after all that rain and—."
Luo Binghe trips over the edge of the rug and they both go tumbling hard to the floor, Shen Jiu barely managing to roll and escape injury. A-Li shrieks and runs past Luo Binghe face planted on the ground to Shen Jiu on his stomach, sprawled halfway across the room.
"Are you okay!"
Shen Jiu lays stunned for a few seconds before Luo Binghe’s blood parasites kick in and a soft fuzziness like two cups of wine spreads through his body. He lets her help heave him to his feet.
"Obviously I'm fine." Shen Jiu says brushing off his knees and limps over to Luo Binghe to help him up too. "What was that? Are you okay?"
"Nothing. I'm okay." Luo Binghe says but his cheeks are pink in embarrassment. He stumbles getting up too, not looking away from Shen Jiu.
"Go sit down on the bed. A-Li and I will get you something to drink. Don’t you dare move."
Shen Jiu shuffles him to the bed and orders he not leave it just like he did the day they met and hurries out of the room leaning on A-Li.
"Proposed?" he hisses at a low whisper. “Does anyone else know?”
"Yeah. She showed up this morning after you left and begged me to. I haven’t told anyone except Auntie Sunu yet. What do you think, A-Jiu? Auntie Sunu says it's okay if I want to. Should I?"
Shen Jiu raps her over the head with his new fan. "You're saying you left her waiting? Why are you such a fool sometimes. Go tell her right now."
“What about you and Luo–”
“Why are you worrying about Binghe! He’s mine to worry about! Go on then you stupid girl! Get out of here!”
A-Li breaks into a grin at his rushing her down the steps and runs down the stairs and out the front door to find her girlfriend, now fiancee.
Shen Jiu watches in a daze at the pink and blue fabrics of her dress billowing behind her as she runs at top speed, ignoring the poise a courtesan should carry at all times. A-Li has been by his side ever since a month after he was sold to the song house. He scoffed at her for being so eager to be a courtesan and undergo Auntie Sunu’s rigorous training, but over the years she’s become a little sister to him. What does it mean if she’s leaving?
Of course, Shen Jiu reminds himself, this isn’t her leaving but rather doing exactly as he has: moving out with a lover while still returning to sing and dance. Just no more sleeping in her room at the song house and no more hosting private guests, instead taking a background role as new girls fall into the places they’ve trained so hard for.
Remembering his own lover, Shen Jiu hurries to the kitchen where he assembles a tray of hot water and slices of various fruits and a few youxuan pastries that were made for later tonight. When he gets back to the room Luo Binghe is dutifully sitting on the bed waiting for him, not stupid enough to defy a direct order.
Shen Jiu sets the tray down and hurries over to his shelves of drawers filled with teas he’s collected for private meetings with his clients.
“What are you feeling?” Shen Jiu asks, rustling through the bags and boxes. “Do you feel faint?”
“I feel fine.”
“Dizzy? Nauseous? I know I’m not that good at flying yet but–”
Luo Binghe gets up and walks over to him wanting to wrap him in his arms but instead is met by Shen Jiu grabbing his arm and twisting his wrist to feel his pulse with an intense expression of concentration.
“Rapid pulse.” Shen Jiu asserts, “And your balance is off between your spiritual energy and demonic qi…I think. I need to learn that better.” He reaches up and pats Luo Binghe’s cheek. “It looks like someone rubbed a beet on your face. Why are you so red? Did a bug bite you? Is that it?”
“No.”
Shen Jiu drops his wrist and turns around to select a tea for Luo Binghe. Back to him, Shen Jiu asks, “Then what's wrong with you?"
Luo Binghe rustles sitting back down on the bed behind him and finally replies, "I was just surprised about A-Li is all."
"Mn." Shen Jiu agrees, handing him the steeping tea. He sits down too and adjusts his layers to lean comfortably against Luo Binghe. Worried that Luo Binghe might be experiencing a qi deviation again he does channel what little energy he has left within him to keep him stable. At the same time he rambles, "Stupid girl thinking she needs to ask everyone for permission instead of just saying yes. Imagining being left hanging on such a question. I’d be ready to rip someone’s throat out if I was left hanging like that."
Luo Binghe keeps quiet as he sips the tea but he drags his fingers over Shen Jiu’s hip feeling the divots of scars.
Exhausted from learning to fly by sword, Shen Jiu falls asleep leaned against Luo Binghe the moment silence fills the room. By the time Luo Binghe says, "A-Jiu, would you ever want to…" Shen Jiu’s only response is a light snore so Luo Binghe falls silent, cutting off half his proposal unsaid. He merely sets aside the drink and lowers Shen Jiu to sprawl over the bed to sleep away the fatigue before creeping down to the kitchens to cook something specially for A-Jiu when he wakes, and perhaps help alleviate the tasks of whoever is on kitchen duty today.
Over the following days Luo Binghe’s heart thuds heavily in his chest whenever he thinks of the idea of actually marrying Shen Jiu. When he departed to get his riches he went with the intention of marrying Shen Jiu. He wants to be A-Jiu’s and only A-Jiu’s. He even divorced his five wives so he could only be Shen Jiu’s. But despite his many past proposals this one makes him unequivocally anxious. It makes him weak in the knees, weak enough to trip on his feet and send Shen Jiu tumbling.
It's not even anxiety that Shen Jiu will reject him. He knows that he won't. Shen Jiu has told him as much, perhaps in a threatening tone that Luo Binghe isn't allowed to abandon him again ever. But the threat was wordlessly reversed that Shen Jiu won't abandon him either. That reassurance that he won’t be discarded or abandoned quells fears Luo Binghe never knew he carried until that weight was removed by A-Jiu.
After all, Luo Binghe is Shen Jiu’s.
Shen Jiu chose him.
It’s as simple as that.
The anxiety is that, for the first time, Luo Binghe actually likes Shen Jiu in the way spouses should like each other. Those women of the past were wooed from pity or convenience, politics or comfort, or simply because they were a good fuck. None were actually… liking. Not in that way.
And to like is a scary thing. Admitting it is scarier by far. Luo Binghe does not like vulnerability. He does not like offering his heart on a platter. But A-Jiu is A-Jiu and Luo Binghe likes him deeply. He likes that he’s prickly and soft at the same time so much like a cat. So he keeps trying to swallow the knot his tongue keeps tying itself in with the intention of proposing.
For some reason he can’t actually get the question out.
Luo Binghe neatly folds a fabric and pats Shen Jiu’s butt to get his attention several days later.
“Here. Kneel on this.”
They’re both on their hands and knees scrubbing the floor of the music room in preparation for the floor to be polished. Luo Binghe likes these moments of cleaning together. It feels so unreal that Shen Qingqiu would ever get on his knees and scrub that it always quells any quiet thoughts that may have crept into the back of his head about his shizun and A-Jiu.
Luo Binghe, used to a childhood helping his mom scrub floors and later scrubbing endless floors at Shen Qingqiu’s demand, knows that during such laborious work it’s best to kneel on something padded.
Shen Jiu eyes it and turns away.
“I’m fine. We’re almost done anyways.”
Luo Binghe looks out at the second half of the room entirely untouched. The room is empty. In fact, all the rooms are empty. The song house is shuttered from the public all of this week. Part of it is to allow for a deep cleaning, but mostly it’s so the girls have the chance to get out and experience the arts and culture they must be able to compose poetry and converse about. Some go to plays, some leave to stay with their favorite patrons for a weekend away, and some pool their funds to travel by carriage to far off towns together, all gossiping and giggling about all the attractive young cultivators they encounter and romp with. Almost all of the employees of the song house have vacated this week, going to watch the Immortal Alliance Conference.
Luo Binghe asked a few times if Shen Jiu wants to go. Originally Shen Jiu did. For years he set his eyes on this conference as his ticket out of his own life. With Wu Yanzi they planned for him to enter and win, thus earning them both an excess of spirit stones for his unlikely success. But Shen Jiu looked at the song house he loves and now holds a share in by way of Luo Binghe and decided to stay here and help clean. After all, he’s free now. He does not need to escape what he loves.
Luo Binghe crawls across the damp section of floor on his hands and knees to A-Jiu, creeping silently to suddenly grab him by his waist and hoist him onto his lap. Shen Jiu yelps and kicks and slams a dirty wet rag against Luo Binghe’s face. Luo Binghe nuzzles his filthy cheek against Shen Jiu’s bare neck making him claw and rake at Luo Binghe with his nails hissing “That’s disgusting get off me you beast!”
Luo Binghe chuckles against his throat and kisses it with a cruel, “Never” before dragging his kisses up to Shen Jiu’s lips.
Shen Jiu accepts one kiss before biting his lip and trying to shove off Luo Binghe’s lap. He slips out of Luo Binghe’s arms to thud onto his back on the wet floor directly in a sun patch from the window above, his long dark hair flared across the vibrant wood shining under a thin varnish of water. He tries to roll away but Luo Binghe locks his hands around Shen Jiu’s legs over his hips so he can’t fully escape.
“A-Jiu…” he purrs and slides his hand up his thigh, past where he tore off Shen Qingqiu’s legs and beyond where Xue Heqing hacked away A-Jiu’s flesh, to rest on his hip.
Shen Jiu stares up at him, heaving breath at being manhandled so easily. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“What wouldn’t I dare?”
Luo Binghe drags him across the wet floor back to him so Shen Jiu’s lower half rests on Luo Binghe’s lap while the rest of him is sprawled on the damp wood. He leans down and kisses Shen Jiu, cooing, “You just look too good cleaning the floors.”
A flash in Shen Jiu’s hand and a dagger Xin Mo appears at Luo Binghe’s throat. “I just washed these robes and now they’re filthy. If we do this you’re doing my laundry for a month. And finishing scrubbing the room by yourself.”
“Mn. I didn’t want you on your knees for the rest of the day anyways. You know I prefer you on your back.” Luo Binghe hums and dispels his own blade before blindly reaching around for the folded towel he meant for Shen Jiu’s knees but will now coushin his head. Not once does he break eye contact with Shen Jiu though, letting the sparks build until a shared fire grows within each of them until Shen Jiu rips at Luo Binghe’s clothes.
Later, Shen Jiu lays on a divan, popping sweet grapes into his mouth and pointing at smudges on the floor. He’s quite comfy. The sunbeam has drifted over the room to now drape over him like a warm blanket. He quite feels like a cat basking in the sun watching its master perform tasks below its care. “You missed over there, Binghe.”
Luo Binghe crawls across the floor, away from where Shen Jiu pointed and instead over to the man whose he is. Shen Jiu reaches out a hand for him and pats him on the head lazily. He eats another grape then slides one into Luo Binghe’s mouth too. While Luo Binghe chews and swallows he asks, “Are we done for the day, then?”
“Maybe.” Luo Binghe responds thoughtfully. He gestures to the pile of clothes still discarded on the floor on the opposite side of the room. “I still owe you laundry, don’t I?”
Shen Jiu smirks and drags one finger under his chin somewhere between a soft skritching and scratching a vulnerable point with his nails. Luo Binghe surges upwards for a kiss, wrapping his hand around the back of Shen Jiu’s neck to drag him down to the same level to prolong it. This time Shen Jiu doesn’t fight back and holds Luo Binghe too, equally wanting to be as close as possible for as long as possible. Even being on opposite sides of the room feels like too far because it would only take walking out the arched doorway to be a room apart, then out the front door to be a building apart, then however far apart to just not be together, so he likes it when he and his Binghe are side by side.
Shen Jiu murmurs between their lips, "Bath first."
Luo Binghe hoists him and carries him to the baths. Not the employee baths of warm water, but the rich, steaming pools of blue tile and scented water filled with herbs and petals and spirit stones to relax the entire body.
Luo Binghe doesn't set Shen Jiu into the bath, instead stepping in still holding him and sinking them both into the water, disturbing the layer of steam so that it wells and dances around them.
With soft hands practiced in bathing beauties, Luo Binghe washes Shen Jiu with a floral soap that smells divine. He washes away the sweat and residue of the floor, taking time over his long sloping back and making Shen Jiu reach behind him and slap at him for tickling.
Shen Jiu then rolls around in the deep water and starts washing Luo Binghe in exchange. With Luo Binghe’s head half under the water Shen Jiu notices something different about his face. Something…off. He leans in closer and closer and is suddenly wrapped in a watery kiss and dragged under the surface.
They burst out from under the hot water sending droplets everywhere. Shen Jiu gasps for air and drags his long hair out of his eyes before cupping Luo Binghe’s cheeks in his hands.
He asks, "Why is there a scar on your face?"
Luo Binghe’s hand jerks up to it, proving he knows exactly what Shen Jiu is talking about. Shen Jiu grabs his hand where a scar rests on his palm too.
"What's going on? Is this why you fell a few days ago?"
Luo Binghe only looks mildly embarrassed in the face of A-Jiu’s upset. He kisses the hand holding his palm and explains they're the scars he got from the day they met when he fell through the fissure but he's decided not to repress and heal them anymore.
Shen Jiu stares at the scar on Luo Binghe’s face with a tight expression before announcing, "It's unsightly."
Luo Binghe frowns deeply at the pronouncement and Shen Jiu immediately feels a twinge of regret at his sharp words. He just doesn't like seeing scars because scars mean suffering. The first thing he did upon reaching mid level core formation was force his body to blend his scars with his skin to hide his past from everyone including himself. Even now he doesn’t have the cultivation even with Luo Binghe’s aid and blood parasites to replace the scar tissue deep in his hip from Xue Heqing and feels a deep rooted bitterness about it. He’s only just now beginning to reduce the scar under his eye. And yet here's Luo Binghe encouraging his scars to linger because it reminds him of their first meeting.
"Not the one on your face," Shen Jiu decides. He pulls Luo Binghe’s hand back toward him. He spreads his fingers to inspect the pink scar on his palm. He pulls it to his lips to kiss. "But this one can stay. I guess. If you want it."
After the bath Shen Jiu and Luo Binghe settle in to do laundry together. The sunny spring day broke during their bath and rain clatters over the roof of the song house. Shen Jiu sits leaned up against Luo Binghe. He spot washes the delicate silks and beaded fabrics that cannot be scrubbed while Luo Binghe scrubs bedding and napkins and employees robes and anything else that might need washed with a firm hand.
As they work Shen Jiu half hums, half sings, filling the room with a small melody he's been composing about the man of the frozen river.
Luo Binghe listens for a while before he slows to a stop.
"Want me to scrub for a bit?" Shen Jiu asks feeling him stop.
"No," Luo Binghe answers and resumes his role before stopping again. "A-Jiu, I was thinking… if I wanted to find someone, would you help me?"
A day later Luo Binghe holds Shen Jiu by the waist with his chin resting on his shoulder, peering through the light rain that’s turned icey. Shen Jiu shivers in the cold and Luo Binghe adjusts the umbrella he holds over them and nuzzles against his neck, channeling warmth into his back.
“There’s the river,” Luo Binghe says, pointing downwards at the Luo River, only just now thawing in the renewal of spring after the bitterly cold winter. “We’re almost there.”
Shen Jiu nods and focuses on keeping the sword flying even. As they got ready to go he could feel the anxiety emanating off Luo Binghe and after his fall only a week before Shen Jiu trusts his own power more than Luo Binghe’s right now. Therefore they stand on the bamboo engraved blade expanded to support them both as they fly over meadows and mountains to the chilly valley along the river Luo Binghe grew up in. Behind him he can feel Luo Binghe jittering in either excitement or anxiety.
He’s thankful when they land on the edge of the small town.
Between the rain forcing people inside and the Immortal Alliance Conference drawing people away, the streets are empty except a few vendors and children running through the downpour screaming in play. Luo Binghe wraps an arm around Shen Jiu more to comfort himself than to offer Shen Jiu strength, although he does have the wherewithal to make sure they’re both covered by the umbrella.
“Let’s find an inn first.” Luo Binghe says.
Shen Jiu replies, “Are you sure? I’d have thought you’d want to find her as soon as possible.”
“I don’t–” Luo Binghe says and inhales deeply. “I don’t know if she’s here, or if she is what condition she’ll be in.” His eyes track a few kids splashing in the puddles, Shen Jiu’s follow them too envious of their freedom to laugh and play and draw attention to themselves in the throws of childhood adventures.
They find an inn to stay in where tea and lunch is delivered to their room. They don’t stay to eat it though. Instead Luo Binghe dries his curls while Shen Jiu changes clothes into something a bit warmer. They each don waxed cloaks and press together to share the umbrella once more.
Luo Binghe’s heart pounds heavily as he walks the familiar streets. They’re different from what he remembers but not by much. A few businesses are different, that house is too new while that old building he doesn’t remember existing at all. But everything else is the same.
The closer they get to the banks of the river where the house he spent his formative years in the more anxious Luo Binghe becomes and unconsciously clings tightly to A-Jiu. A-Jiu gives him a sharp look but doesn’t shake him off.
Then he sees it.
Down a side street on the far edge of town is the worn down house that is his first home. A small strand of smoke curls from the chimney only to be battered down by the rain. In the spring flowers bloom brightly along the edges of the path up to the house but the space directly surrounding is criss-crossed in laundry lines for hanging clothes on sunny days.
Luo Binghe picks up his pace and A-Jiu matches until they’re running through the downpour arm in arm to the house.
Shen Jiu almost slips in the mud but Luo Binghe catches him before he falls. He runs with his arm wrapped around his waist until they stand in front of the door.
“Well?” Shen Jiu asks but Luo Binghe is paralyzed. His mom won’t recognize him. He didn’t prepare himself for the idea of her not recognizing him at all. She never got to watch him grow up. She only got to watch him grow into a happy boy who was later crushed in body and heart until A-Jiu proved himself the remedy.
With Luo Binghe making no motion to move Shen Jiu raps hard on the door. Luo Binghe buries his face in Shen Jiu’s hair to hide as though expecting a demon to open the door instead of the woman he misses most. A-Jiu’s hand reaches up and pats him on the cheek before leaving his hand there.
Inside a baby wails and someone can be heard talking in a sing-song voice. A moment later the door cracks open and a bright woman of perhaps her mid fifties opens the door with a round baby in her arms.
She peers out at the two of them with a concerned look on her face at their frozen appearance. “Can I help you?”
“We’re sorry for waking the baby. We got caught in the rain,” Shen Jiu says, reciting the common lie he used as a child to slip into the unsuspecting’s houses and rob them of their food. “And we were hoping to find a moment’s reprieve, if you wouldn’t mind us waiting on your stoop until it passes.”
She gives them a quick once over and says, “Don’t wait out in the rain. Come in. Don’t mind the mess. I’m just getting used to life with little Luo Binghe here so it’s a big chaotic.” She opens the door, gesturing them inside. The pair enter and pull off their boots and remove their wet cloaks before moving deeper inside holding hands.
The home is cramped, piles of laundry to be washed hug the walls, all the rafters decorated with clothes drying, and large empty basins of water for washing sitting cold near the fireplace.
Luo Binghe’s mom holds the baby to her chest with one arm while the other she stirs honey into tea to help warm them aftering being caught in the downpour. She glances over at them and says, “You can sit wherever. It’s okay if you have to move something.”
Shen Jiu picks up a stack of pants draped over a padded bench wide enough for the two of them and neatly folds them to make space to sit together. Luo Binghe hovers by his side watching the old woman who coos to the infant “You’re such a little cry baby, aren’t you? Look at this, your first guests ever and you greet them in tears. What sort of gentleman greets his guests in tears? Why are you so silly my little Bingbing baby? You should greet everyone with a smile.” She playfully pinches his nose and his crying stops except for a few hitches. Too small to laugh yet he smiles a wide, gummy smile up at her.
One at a time she brings the tea over to the two to help them warm up and sits down herself to rock the baby.
Luo Binghe’s mouth is dry but his eyes are wet. He tries a few times to speak but can’t and depends on Shen Jiu to talk with his mom while he just watches her switch between cooing at the baby and conversing with Shen Jiu.
The whole time Shen Jiu rubs his hand over Luo Binghe’s thigh. It helps ground him as he takes in his childhood home, haphazardly rearranged for the unexpected baby in his mom's life.
"You seem really nice." Luo Binghe abruptly says in the middle of the conversation. His mom looks surprised so Luo Binghe quickly elaborates, "You seem like a good mom and your son is going to love you so much and want to hug you every day and never let you go."
Panic fills him that she might judge him for words that lack his usual smoothness but suddenly she breaks into a laugh that's deep and rich and brighter than he remembers.
"So, he speaks." She says and leans forward to pat Luo Binghe’s knee. "It's okay dear. Sometimes words are a bit hard to find. I do hope I can bring Binghe up well." She glances up to Shen Jiu and continues, "You have quite the sweet husband here."
"He's not- I mean-" Shen Jiu says turning pink and she suddenly looks embarrassed at her assumption. Shen Jiu quickly says, "I mean I'd like him to be but, he hasn't said anything so I-"
Luo Binghe's heart flies out of his chest hearing A-Jiu say I'd like him to be . He fumbles in his lap to find Shen Jiu’s hand and take it, but before he can properly interlock their fingers his mom speaks up again.
"If you want to why are you waiting for him to ask? Look at the anxious boy with his tongue all tied in knots. You're the one with the honeyed words. Don't let the people you care about slip away just because you couldn't ask them to stay."
Shen Jiu looks over to Luo Binghe and swallows hard. His long, dark hair is backlit by the fire to glow golden, still damp and glistening from the rain but his cheeks are pink from the warmth of the tea.
He’s everything Luo Binghe could have wanted. He’s soft and kind but sharp and pointed, a perfect match for Luo Binghe both in sparring words, heated tumbles and soft snuggles. Luo Binghe is his and he wants to be his. He wants to belong to Shen Jiu like he’s belonged to no one before. Because Shen Jiu is just Shen Jiu. A-Jiu. No one else but the boy waiting to be saved and wanting to protect his own.
"Bingh- Baobei," Shen Jiu corrects remembering they didn't give Luo Binghe’s name with an infant Luo Binghe only a chair away. “Would you wan–”
“I want to be your husband.” Luo Binghe bursts, the words that he’s choked on for days and days now tumbling from his lips just like he tumbled onto the floor the day A-Li told them about her proposal. It’s not the neat, smooth proposal he’s used to where he saves the maiden and promises to be with her forever, instead he reaches for Shen Jiu with his other hand and knocks the teacup from his grasp to spill down his front, making Shen Jiu yelp in shock at the hot water. Luo Binghe fumbles even more with his hands and works trying to get the hot fabric away from A-Jiu’s body.
A laugh bursts out from behind them and they both stop and look around at Luo Binghe’s mom chuckling.
“Sorry,” She says wiping her eyes and cooing at baby Luo Binghe threatening to wake up and cry. “Just you two fumbling over a proposal after getting caught in the rain and landing on my doorstep. I really seem to have a way with finding those in need of a little shelter, don’t I? Don’t mind me. Don’t mind me. Go on.” She gestures for them to continue. “Tell each other how much you love each other and I’ll get you something dry to change into.”
She gets up and walks across the small house, eyeing over her shoulder at the two of them with an amused smile.
A-Jiu is bright pink now with embarrassment and forcefully holding back a spitted retort to Luo Binghe wanting to be his husband, but it’s clear Luo Binghe’s mom’s words about don't let the people you care about slip away just because you couldn't ask them to stay hold back his tongue.
“Fine.” He says without looking at Luo Binghe and instead pulling at the burning fabric clinging to him. “Fine. You can be my husband.”
Luo Binghe wraps him in a tight hug and spins him in the cramped room, kissing him deeply. As they spin Shen Jiu wraps his arms around him too and half-heartedly mutters, “Little beast.”
Only when Luo Binghe trips over a small basket of laundry yet to be washed does he stop spinning to let them both fall back onto their bench and lays his head on A-Jiu’s shoulder. Leaned against the wall in the corner of the room, Luo Binghe’s mom watches with a change of clothes for Shen Jiu. She smiles observing the scene and approaches once they’re settled again.
“I hope my little Luo Binghe finds someone who makes him as happy as you two when he grows up. Here. Change into this and I’ll hang yours up to dry. Stay through the rain if you want to. I can set up a bed if you don’t mind the floor.”
“Thank you.” Shen Jiu says, accepting the simple shirt and pants but not moving from Luo Binghe nuzzling against his shoulder and looking up at his mom. “I think we would like to stay a bit longer if you don’t mind. We can offer payment as a thank you.”
She waves him off saying, “Why would I accept payment just for being decent?”
A short while later Luo Binghe sits next to his mom carefully chopping the veggies she hands him while Shen Jiu sits watching, cradling the infant Luo Binghe and quietly musing to himself how much he really does look like his Binghe already despite not even being a handful of months. As a child he never liked taking care of the random toddlers that would find their way into the group of streetrats but Qi-ge always relented and took them under his wing to protect them so Shen Jiu begrudgingly agreed to help. So as soon as baby Binghe’s face crumples with tears he knows to start singing a soft melody to him, encouraging him to drift off to sleep in the chorus mixing with the patter of rain on the roof.
On the other side of the room preparing dinner, Luo Binghe’s heart lights up with excitement every time his mom says something to him. He hasn’t been able to speak much out of awe and excitement and his usually silver tongue tying in knots but when she asks how he met A-Jiu Luo Binghe eagerly explains like a teenager might tell his mom about his first crush. She smiles down at him with a joy that fills Luo Binghe’s chest, even more so when she tells him she can tell A-Jiu is a good man.
They stay through the night, all talking late into the evening as the downpour increases. Shen Jiu runs out to gather wood from the shed and comes back soaked so he shares a blanket with Luo Binghe while they all talk.
It takes a fair bit of convincing to talk Luo Binghe’s mom into accepting the song house as her sole client for her laundry services. She keeps insisting that it’s too far to transport clothes just to be washed and she doesn’t want to leave the bank of the Luo River in case Luo Binghe’s birth parents ever come looking for him. But Shen Jiu, ever the man trained in conversing and convincing, talks her into accepting them and accepting a far higher payment than would technically be fair, insisting their fabrics are delicate and valuable and can only be washed under the most skilled hands.
It makes Luo Binghe happy to know his mom will be in the periphery of his life with the resources she needs to live a happy, long life without strife.
It makes him even happier to curl up on the floor by the fire with A-Jiu that night, nuzzling into his chest and feeling his arms wrap around him. Shen Jiu drags the blanket all the way up over the two of them so the world is just himself and his Luo Binghe in a cave that they share. The dim firelight dances through the blanket just enough to light them.
Shen Jiu smiles down at Luo Binghe and Luo Binghe smiles up at him.
Luo Binghe quietly whispers, “Husband.”
Shen Jiu whispers back, “Husband.”
He genuinely likes Luo Binghe.
He genuinely loves Luo Binghe.
He feels there’s an intrinsic part of him tied to Luo Binghe, one that made Luo Binghe fall from the sky and crash into the orchard in front of him that day so long ago.
For a man who swore off love and affection believing them feelings of weakness it’s strange to know that’s what he feels for the man in front of him who is lightly brushing the stray hairs out of his face with a scarred hand. He wants to reject those feelings of love but he wants to hold them close to his heart. Under Luo Binghe’s protection, knowing Luo Binghe will always come to rescue him, he just might be brave enough to do so.
Shen Jiu lays awake snuggling Luo Binghe through the night listening to the rain clattering over the building and wind howling outside. He stares into the fire burning, flames licking upwards into the darkness of the fireplace until it slowly dies. He occasionally breaks the stare to kiss the top of Luo Binghe’s curly hair, whose soft breath tickles his shoulder. He watches the fire until the bright flames burn down to hot coals that glow with a single spot of orange before he closes his eyes to go to sleep, safe and sound curled around Luo Binghe, knowing exactly what his future will hold.