Chapter Text
There is a woman that Liu Qingge meets in the depths of Jue Di Gorge.
He’s instantly placed on edge. She’s older than any of the disciples participating in the Immortal Alliance Conference should be.
“Who are you,” he demands, Cheng Luan poised to attack.
She tsks. “Oh, this won’t do.” She points at him, and suddenly, pain wracks his body. He drops Cheng Luan as his muscles begin to convulse.
It feels as though his very bones are shifting beneath his skin, snapping and reforming with relentless ease. His nerves scream in protest as new growth pushes against them, muscles contorting and lengthening. His skin, which feels as though it’s been stretched to its limits, erupts with new agony as strands of hair push their way through to the surface. Claws burst through his nailbeds, and his teeth painfully elongate into fangs.
Liu Qingge collapses in this unfamiliar body, and the woman walks over. He tries to speak as she picks up Cheng Luan, but all that emerges is a snarl. She cackles at him. “Helpless now, aren’t you?”
Carelessly holding Cheng Luan in one hand, she snaps her fingers and disappears. Liu Qingge tries to climb to his feet, and immediately fails.
He looks down, and suddenly realizes that he doesn’t have hands.
Or rather, his hands have transformed. He doesn’t have thumbs, and thick white fur covers his… paws.
Liu Qingge finally manages to stand up on four feet, and turns to look at the rest of himself. Sure enough, the white fur covers the rest of his body, and a long tail emerges from his backend.
What the fuck.
So Liu Qingge is a dog now. Or a wolf. He doesn’t know; he can’t see his own face.
He takes a few steps forward and finds that walking is rather instinctive. That’s good.
Now, to find someone who can help him.
—
Eventually, Liu Qingge finds his martial siblings surrounding Shen Qingqiu.
Shen Qingqiu looks… wretched. His robes are splattered with blood, and his face is stark white.
Forgetting his current form, Liu Qingge tries to ask what happened, only for a bark to escape his mouth. The retinue of Peak Lords all turn towards him.
“A spiritual dog…?” Mu Qingfang says. “How did one appear here?”
So Liu Qingge is a spiritual dog. Those are rare, said to only appear to worthy cultivators in times of crisis.
Liu Qingge makes a decision and approaches Shen Qingqiu. The man blinks before extending a hand toward him, and Liu Qingge noses into it, quickly examining the man’s meridians. Finding some distortions, Liu Qingge instinctively begins to straighten them.
“It appears he has taken a liking to you, shidi,” Yue Qingyuan says.
“This is good,” Mu Qingfang says. “If Liu-shixiong has indeed fallen into the Endless Abyss, a spiritual dog can alleviate Without A Cure as well.”
Liu Qingge blinks. His martial siblings think he’s fallen into the Endless Abyss?
He’s about to turn toward Mu Qingfang when Shen Qingqiu begins to stroke his head with his other hand. “Will I do?” he asks. “Truly?”
In lieu of an answer, Liu Qingge butts his head into Shen Qingqiu’s hand, tail wagging.
Shen Qingqiu smiles at Liu Qingge, and it looks oddly broken. “Then I suppose you’re coming home with me.”
—
Shen Qingqiu is mourning.
Liu Qingge is there when Shen Qingqiu refuses to return Zheng Yang to Wan Jian Peak. He’s there when Shen Qingqiu travels down Qing Jing Peak to erect a sword mound in Luo Binghe’s memory. He’s there when Shen Qingqiu returns, day after day, to kneel before the memorial he created.
One night, Liu Qingge wakes to the quiet sound of crying. He pads into Shen Qingqiu’s room.
The man is clutching a pillow to his face, trying to muffle the sound of his sobs. Liu Qingge hesitates for a moment before approaching, placing two paws on the bed and nosing against Shen Qingqiu’s head.
Shen Qingqiu raises his head. “Oh,” he says between sniffles. “I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”
Liu Qingge whines. Discarding all dignity, he licks at Shen Qingqiu’s tears.
Shen Qingqiu laughs, quietly. It’s an improvement. “I used to have a dog,” he says, wistfully. “She’d do the same thing when I was sad.”
Liu Qingge can’t remember Shen Qingqiu ever having a dog on Qing Jing Peak, so he must be speaking about his life before joining Cang Qiong Mountain.
Shen Qingqiu rolls to the side. “Come on,” he says, patting the open space. “This bed’s big enough for both of us.”
In his head, Liu Qingge rapidly runs through why he should and should not join Shen Qingqiu on the bed.
One, he’s not actually a dog. Two, he’s actually Liu Qingge, Shen Qingqiu’s martial brother.
On the other hand, Shen Qingqiu thinks he’s a dog. And Shen Qingqiu was crying.
Liu Qingge jumps onto the bed.
—
It’s been a few years since Liu Qingge was turned into a dog, and Liu Qingge has made absolutely no progress in communicating to anyone that he is a dog.
He’s tried taking Shen Qingqiu’s calligraphy brushes and writing out his name, but his attempts look like chicken scratches. They’re indecipherable even to himself when he knows what he wants them to say, and Shen Qingqiu only scolds him for making a mess.
Liu Qingge has become somewhat of Shen Qingqiu’s shadow. He follows the man everywhere, even to Peak Lord meetings where he probably shouldn’t be allowed.
That’s how Liu Qingge knows that his martial siblings still aren’t particularly concerned with his absence. A few years in the Endless Abyss are nothing to an immortal cultivator, after all.
Shen Qingqiu is the only one that seems to suspect foul play. He speaks with worry for Liu Qingge, and Liu Qingge can’t help but butt his head against Shen Qingqiu’s hand.
Shen Qingqiu pets him. “Settle down, Bai Lang,” he says. “Anyway, isn’t there something we can do for Liu-shidi? Just to know he’s alive?”
Liu Qingge quietly snorts at the name Shen Qingqiu has taken to calling him. Bai Lang. That’s about as literal as one can get for naming a white dog that looks like a wolf.
Yue Qingyuan shakes his head. “I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do without Liu-shidi’s sword. But I’m sure he’s fine, Shen-shidi. Liu-shidi is a very capable cultivator.”
Liu Qingge huffs. Capable enough to get turned into a dog by some unknown witch.