like your face, mine

by thunderwear

Summary:

Shen Qingqiu had always intended to keep his demonic cultivator of a brother away from his righteous sect. Of course, the universe had other ideas.

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“Unfortunately, there isn’t yet a cure known for a demonic infection such as this. Any interference by outside spiritual energy will destabilize your meridians, at best triggering a qi deviation and at worst, killing you.”

Shen Qingqiu sighed wearily.

“I have an acquaintance who may be able to provide a solution in such a situation.”

“Oh?” Mu Qingfang said, his tone interested and curious, though somewhat unbelieving.

“My brother.”

Notes:

inspired by this tumbr post

takes place just before the immortal alliance conference

Chapter 1

“Unfortunately, Shen-shixiong, you are suffering from a demonic infection of the qi,” Mu Qingfang explained as he released Shen Qingqiu’s wrist. “The energy has likely taken root so quickly because of, forgive me for being presumptuous, inner turmoil lingering in the spiritual pathways, feeding the demonic energy. Perhaps something that happened in your past that caused hurt or resentment.”

“Presumptuous is the correct word,” Shen Qingqiu snarled.

It had been a long day, and Shen Qingqiu had the foreboding suspicion that a migraine was on the horizon. Just because he was advanced enough in his cultivation to no longer suffer from the migraines that had plagued him since he had been a dirty wretch in a dirty alley didn’t mean he couldn’t still sense one coming.

Mu Qingfang took a step back and stroked his facial hair, likely so that he could have something to do with his hands that wasn’t a futile placating gesture. When they’d still been disciples, Mu Qingfang would twist fingers into the sleeves of his robe when he’d needed something to do with his hands.

“My apologies Shen-shixiong,” he muttered, looking more put-upon than chastised.

After his sect brother remained quiet long enough for the air to grow stagnant between them, Shen Qingqiu snapped his fan open to hide a sneer behind, already anticipating bad news. Mu Qingfang only dawdled when he was delivering an undesired diagnosis.

“Well?” He prompted. “What is there to be done?”

Mu Qingfang cleared his throat, looking askance, which was disheartening.

Being the middle of summer, the room was sweltering, even with the breeze fluttering the privacy curtains around the room. Mu Qingfang had a sheen of sweat on his forehead and had pulled his hair away from his neck more than once during their conversation, though he stayed engaged. Shen Qingqiu was chilled. He tended to always run cool, but he felt moments away from shivering, another side effect of this damned infection.

Shen Qingqiu didn’t often find himself in peril, but his last trip down the mountain had left him with a seemingly none-too-serious wound from an encounter with a lesser demon from the western courts. The demon had been dispatched quickly and efficiently but not before it stuck him in the thigh with an arrow whose bolt bled dark energy into Shen Qingqiu’s spiritual pathways.

Of course there wasn’t going to be an easy fix. When had anything in Shen Qingqiu’s life ever been simple?

“Unfortunately, there isn’t yet a cure known for this particular ailment. Any interference by outside spiritual energy will destabilize your meridians, at best triggering a qi deviation and at worst, killing you.”

Mu Qingfang was, of course, the leading expert in medical practice not just in their sect but across the cultivation world. If he had no answers, there was little hope anyone would.

At least any righteous cultivator, it would seem.

Shen Qingqiu sighed wearily.

“I have an acquaintance who may be able to provide a solution in such a situation.”

As much as he’d hoped to keep his brother from the sect for as long as he could, indefinitely ideally, Shen Qingqiu was sure that if he didn’t call on him and then died of a demonic influence, Shen Yuan would turn to the ghostly path just to resurrect him and beat him over the head.

Alas, his brother was a damned good demonic cultivator, traveled and studied and competent. If he couldn’t solve the problem himself he would likely know of a solution or have the means to find one.

“Oh?” Mu Qingfang said, his tone interested and curious, though somewhat unbelieving.

“My brother.”

Yue Qingyuan perked up from where he’d been keeping vigil by the door, only allowed to stay on the explicit instruction that he remain silent.

“Xiao-Yuan is coming?”

“Out,” Shen Qingqiu said flatly, snapping his fan closed as he pointed to the door.

Yue Qingyuan’s eyes grew round and wet, though he left as commanded, sending one last downtrodden look Shen Qingqiu’s way. It was no wonder the sect leader was so excited for Shen Qingqiu’s brother to visit, seeing as Shen Yuan was the only of the Shen twins who could be swayed by those sad, damp eyes.

“I will contact him promptly,” Shen Qingqiu informed Mu Qingfang.

It was lucky the ailment Shen Qingqiu suffered wasn’t more time sensitive because it took a week just for the message to reach Shen Yuan and then the better part of a month on top of that for him to get to Cang Qiong from where he’d been.

The whole while, Shen Qingqiu was unable to utilize his spiritual energy and thus confined to the mountain by overprotective peak lords and students alike. As the days passed, he grew more and more easily fatigued, becoming tired quickly and requiring more rest than typical. He bided his time ignoring questions about his visiting brother from those who knew, teaching lessons while seated because his weak legs couldn’t hold him for more than a few minutes at a time, and overseeing Liu Qingge as he instructed Shen Qingqiu’s students in the sword where he himself was unable due to his condition.

It was during such overseeing that Shen Yuan finally arrived.

Shen Qingqiu was barely sitting upright in the chair Ning Yingying, ever dutiful, had self-appointedly decided to carry after him wherever he went since he’d become unable to stand on his own for more than a few moments at a time. He was unable to contain his disdain for having to debase himself by sitting where he should not, but he would rather spoil his reputation than leave Liu Qingge to fumble his way through Qing Jing’s specific style of sword lessons. Horror upon horrors.

The man was butchering the lesson even with supervision to such a degree that Shen Qingqiu wondered after the man’s own peak.

“A-Jiu!” Came a sudden shout across the peak, interrupting the lesson, though, thankfully, not startling anyone into injuring themselves on their blades.

Shen Qingqiu’s chest warmed at the sound even as his nerves frayed. His brother, on his peak for the first time. His brother, exposed to these righteous cultivators. His brother, here for him.

All of Shen Qingqiu’s disciples turned to where the shout had come from in unison, and they all immediately snapped back to Shen Qingqiu in the same fashion. Not from the shame at having been distracted from their lesson, like good students would have. No. They looked back and forth to gape between the two brothers, marveling, presumably, at how similar their faces were.

“Lesson dismissed,” Shen Jiu barked to get them to stop staring, unsettled by his disciples who were typically cowed by a sharp look from him, ignoring a glare in favor of gawping.

Liu Qingge, having been informed of Shen Yuan’s visit in advance from the last peak lord meeting, also stared intently at Shen Yuan as he approached, though not with the same astonishment as Shen Qingqiu’s departing disciples. Liu Qingge always wore an intense look on his face like he was assessing a threat or preparing for battle or deeply constipated. This was no different, the hard set to his brow framing the way his eyes followed Shen Yuan’s approach. His hand rested on his sword, which may have been alarming had that not also been typical for him. Fiddling with his sword hilt tended to be a nervous habit, one that left his conversation partners nervous, though whether that was by design, Shen Qingqiu was unsure.

“A-Jiu,” Shen Yuan repeated when he reached Shen Qingqiu’s side, slightly out of breath, either from the long trek up the mountain, or excitement at finally being allowed on Cang Qiong Mountain. He was darting eyes around the peak, taking in the rolling mountainside and bamboo forest. The training swords now strewn about haphazardly until that useless little disciple of his came along to clean them up.

Shen Qingqiu’s voice was weak when he spoke, though thankfully, his weary rasp covered up any emotion at seeing his brother after so long apart that might have slipped through.

“Yuan-ge.”

Shen Yuan beamed.

Neither actually knew which was the older twin. In fact, having been the identical street rats they were, no one else had ever cared so much as to ask. They had shared everything right up to their name, Jiu. Their slave masters hadn’t cared to ever tell them apart, intending to sell them as a pair anyway, a prized commodity as twins. Shen Yuan had been the one to first suggest one of them choose a new name, just before they had been sold to the Qiu household.

“If we show up with the same name, they will choose one for us,” he’d said. “So we should go ahead and choose so we can make sure it’s something good.

They had decided to play a game to decide, Shen Qingqiu couldn’t even remember what it had been, likely something simple, a game of chance perhaps. Whoever lost would choose a new name.

Shen Yuan had, of course, lost, though he hadn’t seemed too heartbroken to leave the name to Shen Qingqiu. He had even seemed to have the name Yuan ready.

Shen Qingqiu’s brother, the snake, had then turned around and announced that since he’d had to give up their name, he got to be the older brother. That had sparked a years-long argument that Shen Qingqiu had given up on once he realized Shen Yuan was too stubborn to ever capitulate.

“You look like shit,” Shen Yuan said, giving Shen Qingqiu a knock on the shoulder just shy of too aggressive for his weakened body.

Shen Yuan himself looked healthy, skin dark from days traveling in the sun, hair dusty from the road but shining healthily, though there seemed to be a twig tangled in his locks. This was always a relief. After years of Shen Yuan’s body failing, years of it being starved then poisoned and then caught in qi deviation after deviation, it was always a weight lifted to see his cheeks pinked and his shoulders filled out.

Shen Yuan’s hand lingered on Shen Qingqiu’s shoulder, giving a squeeze.

Shen Qingqiu refused to admit that he’d missed his troublesome brother, but he couldn’t help the way his shoulders relaxed minutely at the sound of Shen Yuan’s voice, the comfort of his warmth against the chill that had plagued him since his infection had started.

“No thanks to you taking your sweet time arriving,” Shen Qingqiu responded with a smack of his fan to Shen Yuan’s side.

Even just that simple motion exhausted Shen Qingqiu, causing him to tremble where he sat. He hoped Shen Yuan could truly help with his issue. His growing more and more helpless by the day was wreaking havoc on his reputation.

Shen Yuan let out a guilty chuckle.

“Sorry, didi. I got lost on the border to the demon realm and had to find my way back after I got your message.”

Shen Yuan was technically a rogue cultivator by trade, but he spent most of his time alternating between trouncing through the woods documenting creatures he found interesting and lounging around tea shops listening to gossip and spending the money Shen Qingqiu sent him so that he wouldn’t starve on the streets. Sometimes, when he wasn’t lazing about, his travels took him to dangerous places that Shen Qingqiu wished he would stay away from, but it made his brother happy, so he didn’t bother complaining anymore. Of course, it didn’t hurt that Shen Yuan, as lazy as he was, was a powerful demonic cultivator, match enough for just about anything that crossed his path.

”What sorry beast were you taking note of this time?”

Shen Yuan’s eyes lit up, but before he could let loose his typical long-winded rant, Shen Qingqiu held up a hand to stop him.

“On second thought, perhaps you could deal with the demonic energy eating me from the inside and then tell me about your travels when I am no longer infected.”

Shen Yuan rolled his eyes.

“So impatient, Jiu-di,” he said, though he helped Shen Qingqiu to his feet. “Being bitter like that will age you and then I’ll forever be the most lovely twin.”

Shen Qingqiu looked up as he stood to find Liu Qingge hovering at Shen Yuan’s back, still staring, as awkward as ever. He had that constipated look on his face that likely meant he wanted to start a conversation but didn’t know how. Shen Qingqiu wasn’t going to present the opportunity for him. Not after he’d saved the man’s life from a qi deviation a few years prior only to be dealt accusations in place of gratitude. The man would have to learn manners before Shen Qingqiu would do him any more favors.

As it was, Shen Yuan stepped back when Shen Qingqiu stood and bumped right into Liu Qingge’s chest, startling at the realization someone was behind him. He turned to face Liu Qingge who simply blinked at him in response.

“Excuse my rudeness,” Shen Yuan said with a small bow. “This one is Shen Yuan. I am your Qingqiu-shixiong’s twin brother.”

“You two look very similar,” Liu Qingge stated dumbly.

Really, the lord of Bai Zhan gave a bad name to Cang Qiong sometimes. Was fighting all he was truly good for?

”That is implied in being twins,” Shen Yuan responded with an amused look that turned to reprimanding as it swiveled to Shen Qingqiu. “Did my brother not tell you about me?”

The only response Shen Qingqiu deigned to give him was an unapologetic sniff.

Shen Yuan was a demonic cultivator. Shen Qingqiu had barely been accepted by his peers, and he cultivated normally. How would the rest of Cang Qiong mountain react toward this kind of backwards cultivation? No, better to keep as much information about his brother as he could to himself.

Liu Qingge just nodded and continued staring for a moment before he turned and stalked off.

Shen Qingqiu had witnessed Liu Qingge’s unfortunate social failings before, but somehow they seemed more prominent in the company of Shen Yuan, who could charm a smile from the face of a mountain.

“You sure know how to pick your friends,” Shen Yuan said dubiously as he stared after the retreating peak lord’s back.

“He is not my friend,” Shen Qingqiu seethed as he led them in the direction of Qian Cao, using Shen Yuan’s arm as support. “That brute is the Bai Zhan peak lord. He was instructing my students where I cannot because the only person who could cure my ailment was stumbling through the woods documenting the mating habits of some purple-toothed monkey-spider or some such.”

Shen Yuan ignored the pointed jab to crane his neck and boggle in the direction Liu Qingge had stalked off in.

“That’s Liu Qingge?” He demanded, turning back to Shen Qingqiu. “The Bai Zhan war god? I always imagined him more gruff and manly, a big, burly, scarred, hairy thing. He’s so…”

Shen Yuan trailed off, searching for the word. There were several that Shen Qingqiu might have provided: annoying, uncultured, rude, uncivilized.

”Pretty,” Shen Yuan settled on.

Shen Qingqiu made a disgusted face.

“If you pursue any of my fellow peak lords I will disown you,” he said.

Shen Qingqiu shared a face with his brother, but something about the way Shen Yuan wore it attracted admirers unlike anything Shen Qingqiu had ever seen. He’d been fending hopeful suitors off his brother since they had been old enough for such admirers to be called suitors instead of perverts. He’d also been beating them off back when they were still just creepy men after his sweet, naive brother, of course, but he’d done it then without the fear that Shen Yuan might one day accept the advances.

If he had to become in-laws with any of his fellow peak lords, he may never survive it.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t like men,” Shen Yuan laughed, shooing away Shen Qingqiu’s doubtfully raised eyebrow.

Shen Yuan had never once looked at a woman with any interest. He had said, when asked about it, “Ah, the women in this world are lovely, but they aren’t for me.” Which had been an odd way to confirm that he cut his sleeves. However, he had turned to deny liking men as well, after that, so Shen Qingqiu had assumed that his brother held no sexual inclinations. Though, the way Shen Yuan often appraised many a male form in what he called admiration left considerable confusion in Shen Qingqiu’s understanding of his brother’s preferences.

“But he’s so…pretty,” Shen Qingqiu repeated in a mocking tone, which earned him a nudge that would have toppled him over had he not been holding onto Shen Yuan’s arm.

“Besides,” Shen Yuan continued, making no further acknowledgement of Shen Qingqiu’s jab, “I’m fairly certain becoming cultivation partners with a righteous cultivator is not in the books for me. Might cause a qi deviation, who knows. Better to not risk it.”

”Still,” Shen Qingqiu said, feeling breathless just from this walk, even with support. “They’re off limits.”

”Want them all to yourself, huh?” Shen Yuan teased. “Or was it just one you wanted? Which peak lord was it again? Oh yes! Our long lost childhood—“

Shen Qingqiu was not too frail to deliver an elbow to Shen Yuan’s side. Even though the blow was weak, his elbow was pointy enough to cause pain.

”Hush,” he chided, more embarrassed than anything.

He wasn’t used to this kind of teasing anymore, having not been around his brother in a while. No one on the mountain would dare talk to him like that.

Besides, Shen Qingqiu had gotten over that crush on Yue Qingyuan years ago. Yes, it may have been rekindled at some point after they’d both joined the sect, but he’d gotten over it again. Now they were simply comrades who had a complicated history and nothing more.

Shen Qingqiu wished his hand was strong enough to keep his fan at his face in case he were blushing.

They arrived at Qian Cao with minimal more teasing to find Mu Qingfang waiting for them, having been made aware of Shen Yuan’s arrival. They were led to one of the beds in the common healing area, not as private as Shen Qingqiu would have preferred, with students milling about and one or two other patients layed out in beds of their own.

“I could have just done this in your house,” Shen Yuan said as he helped lower Shen Qingqiu to sit on one of the beds in the room.

“I asked to observe,” said Mu Qingfang, greeting Shen Yuan with a bow. “I am curious about how this particular ailment might be cured. I could find no documentation of a cure recorded, yet your brother seemed sure you could accomplish it. I apologize if this causes any inconvenience.”

“Also,” Shen Qingqiu said as he settled in, “our esteemed sect leader insisted we do this where medical assistance would be close at hand just in case something went wrong.”

”Ah, Qi-ge, what a worrywart,” Shen Yuan said with a wave of his hand.

As if cued, Yue Qingyuan stepped into the room, a smile already resting on his lips.

“Xiao-Yuan!” He called out as he approached. “It’s been too long.”

Yue Qingyuan never looked this pleased to see anyone, not even Shen Qingqiu. Shen Qingqiu’s envy was clouded by the fact that his brother had someone else on his side, should he be judged for his cultivation. Yue Qingyuan already knew that Shen Yuan cultivated the demonic path, so if he could still smile at him like that, he was sure to be there to protect him should others condemn him.

Shen Qingqiu wondered if Yue Qingyuan might smile at him like that if he still allowed him to call him Xiao-Jiu. Not that he would, but he wondered.

“It has,” replied Shen Yuan as he clasped hands with Yue Qingyuan, informal as ever. “Though you should visit me sometime as well. Get away from your stuffy mountain and rough it in the demonic wilds.”

They shared a good natured laugh that simultaneously made Shen Qingqiu feel at home and left out. Even that feeling left out felt familiar, seeing as he’d been feeling it since they’d been young, never so jovial as these two.

“Perhaps once we’ve dealt with your brother’s illness, I can find the time,”

“We?” Shen Qingqiu butted in. “I wasn’t aware you were going to be doing anything to help here, Zhangmen-shixiong.”

Yue Qingyuan wilted under the chill of Shen Qingqiu’s words, turning guilty eyes at him where he sat.

”Didi, be kind,” Shen Yuan scolded before muttering under his breath to Yue Qingyuan, “He’ll be nicer once he doesn’t feel so bad.”

“I can hear you, and no I will not. This is as nice as I get.”

They all knew this was untrue but no one called him on it, especially not Yue Qingyuan who was still delicate at times around Shen Qingqiu, likely remembering the years-gone rage that had nearly torn them completely apart.

Shen Qingqiu had been mad at Yue Qingyuan for years. Furious at being left behind, furious that Shen Yuan had been left behind as well, furious at the lack of explanation or responsibility taken. Shen Yuan hadn’t been so angry, though, which had somehow made Shen Qingqiu’s rage burn even brighter, furious all the more for his brother's sake as well.

So, once they’d all found one another again, after Shen Qingqiu and his brother had left their abhorrent master behind, after he had ascended the mountain, after months of sad eyes and not a word on why he’d abandoned them, after months of Shen Yuan begging him to ask, Shen Qingqiu had confronted Yue Qingyuan, his Qi-ge.

“You should explain yourself,” he had said as they sat for tea which Shen Qingqiu had arranged, a flat tone covering the rage that simmered beneath his skin.

When Yue Qingyuan had opened his mouth to respond, Shen Qingqiu had cut him off, too angry to stop.

“For Yuan-ge’s sake, if nothing else,” He had felt his simmering anger start to boil over. “Even if you have to make up a story so you don’t break his heart even more, tell him that you didn’t forget about him.” A breath, ragged and damningly vulnerable. “Whatever it is don’t let him know the truth. That you realized how good life as a cultivator was and cast off your whole dirty past as if it were shameful and sordid, us included.”

Yue Qingyuan had looked as if someone had wounded his very soul with those words, yet Shen Jiu had pushed on, emotion overcoming him as he spoke, breaking his voice until it rasped with anger or grief, one.

“He still thinks you must have been waylaid instead of enjoying your life here too much to ruin it by bringing in two dirty street rats who would only—“

Shen Qingqiu’s rising tone had been cut off by Qi-ge throwing himself to his knees with a gasped sound that had been nearly a sob. He had bowed his head to the floor as he’d shook, grinding his forehead to the ground so hard it had been audible.

“Never!” He had cried, sounding wretched. “I wanted more than anything to bring you two back. I wanted to save you two more than I wanted to eat, more than I wanted to sleep, more than my next breath!”

Shen Qingqiu had not been placated so easily, even as his heart had cried out at such words.

“Then why did you leave us to rot?” Shen Jiu had raged, jostling their tea as he had slammed his hand onto the table.

He and his brother had been the ones to suffer in the Qiu household, to be beaten and starved and nearly married into beds they hadn’t wanted. He and his brother had been the ones to break free from that house only to suffer under a cruel master who had nearly killed Shen Yuan in his attempt to force him to cultivate twisted ways when his body had been too weak to handle it. He and his brother had been the ones to find a different style of cultivation for Shen Yuan, so that he would stop suffering the qi deviations that would have killed him.

What was Qi-ge’s piddly guilt in the face of their trials?

He had tried for years to pretend that he hadn’t been hurt by Qi-ge’s betrayal, but he hadn’t been able to keep it in any longer. The two of them had waited for so long for someone who had never come.

“By the time I came back for you, it was too late,” Yue Qingyuan had heaved against trembling shoulders. “I tried so hard to advance my cultivation that I qi deviated deeply enough to ruin my golden core completely. I was was locked in the Lingxi caves for more than a year against my will until I had control of myself again.” He had taken his own shuttering breath that had become a sob when exhaled. His broad shoulders had shook fiercely. “When I was released from the caves, I came as fast as I could, but the manor was in ashes, and I was told no one had survived.”

Shen Qingqiu had frozen in shock, then, staring wide-eyed at Qi-ge’s grief-stricken form heaving with sobs. Never would he have guessed a real excuse would be forthcoming. One that would truly explain. One that made his heart ache further.

“I mourned you,” Qi-ge had wept. “I made tablets and kept vigil. Not a day went by where I didn’t think of you two.”

He had looked up then, with a pitiful, tear-streaked face. Tears dampened his flushed cheeks, lip trembling as a lost child’s.

“And then I found you again, alive, and I knew from the look in your eyes when you saw me that no excuse would be enough to forgive my shortcomings.”

Shen Qingqiu had continued staring, shocked. Desperate to believe these words even as he’d tried to keep grasp on his failing anger. That had been everything he’d wished to hear and more. Yue Qingyuan’s words had been a bucket of cool water over his raging heart, and yet, he’d refused to yield so easily.

“These are words you should have spoken to me the instant you knew I wasn’t dead,” he had said, voice still ragged, but with some emotion that wasn’t rage anymore. “We deserved to know, yet you let us think the worst. That you didn’t care anymore.”

And that had hurt the most, then. That this could have been avoided had they only talked. The months since he had been accepted onto the mountain could have been a cheerful reunion rather than the resentful glares it had been.

”What can I ever do to earn forgiveness for the pain I have caused?” Qi-ge had asked, desperation evident in his voice. “Please, anything.”

”You will explain yourself to my brother. If he has it in his heart to forgive you, then that will be that.”

It had been uncertain whether this would be a damnation or an easily won forgiveness. It was ever impossible to predict when it came to Shen Yuan. Though he was the kinder of the two, he seemed to have been born with an unpredictable habit of holding grudges, sometimes against the most unexpected people.

So, shaking with emotions expelled and with truths revealed, feeling a sliver of hope, of shock, of disbelief, of the warmth that Qi-ge hadn’t abandoned them, Shen Qingqiu had taken Qi-ge down the mountain to where Shen Yuan had been staying.

Shen Qingqiu had explained Shen Yuan’s cultivation on their way down the mountain, ready with defense and rebuttals. Ready to take his brother and flee should he be rejected and turned in to the sect. He had nearly waited so that Shen Yuan might explain himself, but he had been unsure of Qi-ge’s reaction and hadn’t wanted to watch Shen Yuan’s face fall if the reaction was less than favorable.

Qi-ge had been unsure, but had patiently waited as Shen Qingqiu had explained plainly their reasons for turning to demonic cultivation and the ways in which they had found this way to use it safely.

“He was dying, Qi-ge,” Shen Qingqiu had gritted from between grief-clenched teeth. “I would have become a demon myself if that was what it took to save him.”

Qi-ge had caught his elbow in a warm, firm grip, then, drawing them to a stop, making Shen Qingqiu’s heart race in his chest, readying his qi for any attack.

“I would never blame you two for surviving,” Qi-ge had avowed lowly, the intense look in his eye quickening Shen Qingqiu’s heart for an altogether different reason. “Nothing you could have done would ever overcome the joy I feel that you were not consumed in that fire.”

Shen Qingqiu had wanted to push the envelope, to see if he really meant it, but there had been enough emotion already, with more on the way once they spoke with Shen Yuan. He would push later.

Qi-ge had balked as Shen Qingqiu had led them to the Warm Red Pavillion, entering the gates without pause as he had countless times before.

“Does Xiao-Yuan often visit here?” Qi-ge had asked, his voice strained, his feet still planted outside the gates.

Shen Qingqiu hadn’t been able to keep himself from teasing, at least a little.

“Of course he does,” he had said, utilizing all his willpower to keep a grin from overtaking his face. “He works here.”

This had been no lie, though there was no doubt Qi-ge had the wrong idea as to what job he performed.

“Xiao-Yuan works here?” Qi-ge had choked out, face burning crimson.

“He has since I ascended the mountain and entered the sect. It was the only place that would let him laze about to drink tea and look pretty.”

It was also the only place that hadn’t balked at his dark cultivation. The common people were often ill-informed on all matters of cultivation, but one thing that seemed to be common knowledge was that demonic cultivators were to be avoided, shunned.

Qi-ge had closed his eyes to take a bracing breath which had given Shen Qingqiu the opportunity to hide a grin.

“Okay. Let’s meet him. I will earn my forgiveness.”

Once they had found him, Shen Yuan had been lying back, idly waving a fan in front of his softly painted face. He had been the very picture of decadence, of bored indolence, though Shen Qingqiu had known the truth. Shen Yuan painted a pretty picture, but his true purpose there was not to entice guests or entertain customers. He lounged around, playing the qin, gossiping with the ladies, looking beautiful and enticing, though he was not on the menu. No one ever expected it when he drew dark blades from his flowing sleeves or hauled men out the door with the strength of a bull. He was there in case anyone became rowdy, anyone tried to force their hand or refuse to pay. Shen Yuan, who looked as pretty as half the spring women in employment with his painted face and draping silks, could strike as quick as lightning when needed.

Qi-ge, who had already been as red as the lanterns out front, had seemed to burn even more brightly once he caught sight of Shen Yuan. Shen Qingqiu had been genuinely afraid he might feel embarrassment to such an extent as to experience a qi deviation, so he had decided to ease his mind.

“Yuan-ge isn’t a drake,” he had muttered, amusement coloring his voice. “He is here for the girls’ safety. Security.”

Understanding had dawned on Qi-ge’s face, and he had let out an embarrassed puff of laughter.

“Ah, good. I had feared–” He had cut himself off as Shen Yuan had caught sight of them.

Shen Yuan, eyes having been trained for years to pick his brother from a crowd, had noticed Shen Qingqiu first, dropping his fan to smile with all his teeth. Once his gaze had drifted to Qi-ge, though, his smile had dropped before reforming as a small, gentle thing, hopeful and brittle. Shen Yuan had stood before they’d reached him, nodding to one of the women across the room before leading them through the halls to the back where his room had been.

Shen Yuan had listened quietly to the end, stoically, without a twitch of emotion on his face. He had nodded when the story had finished.

“That makes more sense,” he’d said. “I knew that couldn’t be all there was to it.”

He had turned then to Qi-ge, who had been waiting on bated breath.

“The fact that you tried makes all the difference,” Shen Yuan had said with a gentle smile. “I forgive you.”

Some hurt still remained, but it was soothed by knowing their tragedy was one of circumstance and bad luck rather than cruelty or apathy on the other’s part.

That didn’t mean Shen Qingqiu had to be pleasant. Even if it was more to save face than any real resentment.

“Are we to continue chatting, or can we clear this foul energy before I wither away?”

”So dramatic,” Shen Yuan muttered, though he got to work, picking up Shen Qingqiu’s wrist to assess his meridians. “You should have pursued the stage instead of becoming a Peak Lord.”

There was a sharp sensation just shy of pain at the site where Shen Yuan pressed on his pulse, but it was replaced almost immediately by the familiar cool rush of his brother’s dark qi. Shen Qingqiu shuddered with relief as the demonic energy clogging his spiritual pathways was collected by Shen Yuan’s own and ushered out unceremoniously.

It took only a moment. Shen Yuan cleared the energy like it was nothing, as easy as a yawn, finishing the job in the time it would take one to pour a cup of tea.

“That should do it,” he announced with a self-satisfied grin.

Shen Qingqiu couldn’t help but feel smug in the stunned silence that followed. Yes, he had wanted to keep his brother safe from the sect, but now that he had to be revealed, Shen Qingqiu was pleased to finally be able to show him off. What better pair for Shen Qingqiu than this clever thing?

“That’s it?”

Mu Qingfang sounded astonished and looked even more disbelieving as he picked up Shen Qingqiu’s wrist, checking Shen Yuan’s work. He almost seemed as if he were expecting a trick. After a moment, he looked up in awe, his starry eyes meeting Shen Yuan’s pleasant face.

Uh oh.

Had Shen Qingqiu not been so tired he may have worked himself to a lather at the fact that Shen Yuan seemed to be charming yet another unsuspecting victim.

“Amazing. How were you able to manipulate the dark energy to safely separate it from his spiritual pathways without utilizing demonic cultivation?” He asked.

Shen Yuan gave him a cheery smile.

“I do utilize demonic cultivation,” he said. “I’m a demonic cultivator, did Jiu-di not say?”

Shen Qingqiu snapped open his fan to hide his face, to conceal the way his hands wanted to tremble.

”Must have slipped my mind.”

Mu Qingfang looked at Shen Yuan warily, eyes darting to his hands, then his side, perhaps looking for weapons, perhaps assessing this threat. He took a step back before turning to Yue Qingyuan, questions and accusations warring for favor in his eyes.

The silence spoke words.

Until Yue Qingyuan drew himself upright into his Sect Leader Authority and spoke.

“I will vouch for him,” His tone was so firm as to be unchallengeable. “Shen Yuan will be an honored guest of Cang Qiong, having traveled so far to heal one of our own. A brother to a peak lord.”

Shen Qingqiu relaxed at Yue Qingyuan’s announcement, his unwavering support. How sweet not to bear this burden alone.

“Thank you, Qi-ge,” Shen Yuan said before turning to Mu Qingfang. “Demonic cultivation really isn’t that bad if practiced the right way. I would be willing to let you examine my meridians to document how benign it truly is, if that would be helpful.” He glanced at Shan Qingqiu. “Though perhaps that can wait until another day.”

And benign his cultivation was, though that had been a combination of careful practice and dumb luck.

Traditional demonic cultivation, at least that which was practiced by humans, corrupted the soul, ate away at the mind and body, steeping the spiritual pathways in resentment until they ran murky, until they were so decayed that the rot spread to the rest of the body. Most demonic cultivators were driven mad from their own craft, having to be culled before they became the wild danger they would inevitably succumb to being.

Neither of them had known that at the time, though Shen Yuan had seemed nervous to try anyway, perhaps from how traditional cultivation had harmed him, how Wu Yanzi's dark cultivation had further injured his pathways. Then, almost as if by fate, just as Shen Yuan had become weak enough that Shen Qingqiu had been close to considering looking for alternate methods even if he had to invent a new cultivation style himself, they had happened on a demonic cultivation text, old, tattered, more of a journal than any scholarly instructions. It had been directly from the demonic realm, they had realized, where their cultivation was highly secretive, passed down from mouths and hands, elder to youth, parent to child, guarded, coveted.

As they had discovered, leafing through the disorganized text, demons utilized demonic cultivation differently than human cultivators did, harnessing the dark energy in a way that flowed through their bodies but didn’t stagnate there, that worked more akin to clearing anything harmful than fostering it. There was no core of dark energy, no keeping it in the body; rather, demonic cultivation was the art of pulling resentment from either themselves, an action that purged such energy from their bodies, or drawing it from around them.

Spiritual energy was essential, and was to be treasured, preserved, sheltered, forcing cultivators to maintain a core. Utilizing spiritual energy would be utterly devastating to the source if there wasn’t enough to cover the cost of what had been taken. If you gathered too much away, it could cause destabilization, a shattering of the qi, an obliteration of the essence of the thing. Demonic energy, on the other hand, was as abundant as it was beneficial to steal away, to craft to one's will.

Shen Yuan had been fascinated as he’d learned every new technique, startled and delighted that he was actually clearing resentment by utilizing it, turning into a tool instead of leaving it to fester. Overjoyed to be healing, to have put an end to his qi deviations. This was the only thing Shen Qingqiu cared about. Yes, the idea behind this cultivation was fascinating, but the only thing that had mattered to him was that Shen Yuan had stopped dying.

If the shine in his eyes were anything to go by, Mu Qingfang seemed to share Shen Yuan’s unfettered interest in this cultivation style. He immediately–almost too quickly for how hesitant he had seemed–let go of his suspicion in favor of intrigue, ever the curious healer.

“I will take you up on that,” he said with a smile. “Is there any way you could also teach me to clear demonic infections the way you just did? I would be fascinated to know.”

Shen Yuan helped Shen Qingqiu sit up as he answered.

“Unfortunately my methods are almost completely incompatible with spiritual cultivation.” He paused for a moment in thought. “I could perhaps devise a way for you to treat this ailment with the help of some instrument infused with demonic energy.”

Shen Qingqiu stood on shaky feet as they talked, still weak from the infection, though feeling his spiritual energy already begin to weakly circulate once again.

He knew that, if left unchecked, Shen Yuan could continue this conversation for hours. He would also, if his record stood, come out of the conversation with yet another admirer. An off-limits Peak Lord, at that.

”As riveting as this conversation may be, I would like to know how long until I may begin cultivating once more.”

”Ah yes. Apologies, Shixiong,” Mu Qingfang muttered, clearing his throat, a flush darkening his cheeks that could be blamed on the summer heat had be not been devoid of a flush before he’d spoken with Shen Yuan. “Seeing as the demonic infection has been cleared completely, you simply need to build back your strength, like exercising a weakened muscle. Start with meditation and when your spiritual energy feels like it has begun circulating like normal, you may begin other forms of cultivation.”

Shen Qingqiu hoped Shen Yuan or Yue Qingyuan were listening because he felt faint and tired and had tuned most of Mu Qingfang’s words out.

“For now, rest.”

That, Shen Qingqiu heard. In fact, he was quite eager to follow such instructions.

“I’ll help him back to his peak,” Shen Yuan said, once again taking him by the arm to support his weight.

”I will escort the two of you,” Yue Qingyuan said. “It will give us a chance to catch up while your brother rests.”

“Someone better start escorting me there now or I will depart on my own and collapse off the side of the rainbow bridge on my way. My death will be on your hands, for dilly-dallying.”

Shen Qinqiu couldn’t see his brother’s face, but he sensed his eyeroll anyway.

”I don’t think resting will cure his dramatics,” Shen Yuan said, beginning to lead him from the medical building. “But we can hope.”

Yue Qingyuan’s laughter sang from where he followed, but Shen Qingqiu was too exhausted to enjoy it much.

By the time they made it back to Qing Jing peak, it seemed word of Shen Yuan’s cultivation had already spread. Disciples stared and pointed and whispered, their mutterings of demonic cultivation not subtle in the slightest. Another shortcoming of Shen Qingqiu’s instruction that he intended to fix once he had fully recovered. If one were going to whisper something, it should at least be inaudible to the person you were whispering about.

Shen Qingqiu regretted that they hadn’t thought to have him cured in a more private place. Likely one of the Qian Cao disciples had overheard and ran to tell others. They were notorious gossips. No one could so much as breathe a pollen in without them spreading word to the whole of Cang Qiong. Shen Qingqiu would hold Mu Qingfang in contempt for his students’ behavior if his own incorrigible disciples weren’t just as bad.

Once they were safely in the bamboo house, sequestered from nosy disciples, Yue Qingyuan set to making tea while Shen Yuan helped Shen Qingqiu to bed, stripping him to his lowermost layer and taking down his hair.

“You had better still be here when I wake up,” Shen Qingqiu muttered, half-scared that Shen Yuan might vanish back to his adventures now that his task was complete.

”Don’t worry about all that,” Shen Yuan said, tucking him under the covers. “I plan on staying until you’re fully recovered at least. I’ve missed you.”

Shen Qingqiu didn’t respond that he’d missed his brother too, but he did reach out to clasp his hand.

“Don’t be too soft on Qi-ge while I’m asleep. He deserves to be bullied. He’s been spoiled as Sect Leader.”

Shen Yuan laughed, squeezing his hand.

“He can hear you.”

”Good,” Shen Qingqiu responded sleepily, too tired to care that he’d called Yue Qingyuan Qi-ge where he could hear, which would no doubt haunt him in the form of hopeful, longing stares once he awoke. “He deserves some bullying from me, too.”

Shen Yuan stayed at his bedside as Shen Qingqiu drifted off, meridians cleared, chest warm with affection, hand still clasped in his brother’s careful grip.

Notes:

my first scum villain fic! i havent written anything but mdzs since 2020 so this will be an experiment on if I still know how to branch out

no lbh yet because this chapter got away from me and i ended up having to split it into two but the next chapter will be luo binghe POV

this is the image i had in mind of yqy after sqq tells him to leave in the opening scene

i had also planned on this being a oneshot but i couldn;t stop writing so there will be 3 chapters (maybe more if i keep adding stuff like ive been doing

i made up literally everything about demonic cultivation in this so if it doesnt make sense sorry

i plan on exploring sy's past at the brothel a little more in future chapters so stay tuned for that

tell me what you think! 😘

Chapter 2

Notes:

Chapter count has increased because I was consumed by this story. It may increase again but hopefully this is around where it will stay

Luo Binghe’s POV

Word of Shizun’s demonic cultivator brother spread as quickly as the pollen of the Lover’s Contagion Lily.

Luo Binghe had missed sword lessons with Liu Qingge that morning, so he hadn’t seen for himself, but they said he was imposing and fierce and twisted from his cultivation. A face to match Shen Qiungqiu paired with the harsh demeanor of a demon.

Ning Yingying, who had been there as well, told Luo Binghe that Shen Yuan had actually seemed very sweet and a kind brother to match, but Luo Binghe didn’t know if that was the truth or if the man had just been handsome. She tended to be too lenient towards a pretty face.

Still, Luo Binghe, who had recently, secretly, began practicing demonic cultivation, felt fear and hope seeding in equal measures in his heart. Surely if the brother of a Peak Lord was a wielder of demonic qi, then Luo Binghe could not be condemned by the fore mentioned Peak Lord for it. Though, Luo Binghe knew better than to doubt his Shizun’s knack for indifference that was quick to be goaded to cruelty. Every time he thought he’d gotten to the worst the man had to offer, he was beaten down in a new way.

Luo Binghe didn’t catch sight of the man for the rest of the day, Shen Yuan staying sequestered in the bamboo house, but he emerged at Shizun’s side the next morning. Luo Binghe felt a little ashamed that he’d dismissed Ning Yingying’s assessment so quickly, for it seemed this Shen Yuan was closer to her description than his fellow peakmates’. Though, he was quite a pretty face, so he would still take her account of his demeanor with a grain of salt.

Shen Yuan shared Shizun’s face, for sure. Had they not been dressed differently, Luo Binghe might have had trouble telling them apart. Shen Yuan was dressed almost like the Peak Lord of Bai Zhan, practically, with braces on his arms and robes made for battle or travel perhaps. The two of them had the same sort of elegance, to them, the same long, dark hair, the same sharp wit to their eyes. Their differences were subtle, but Luo Binghe was looking closely. Shen Yuan held himself differently. Where Shizun moved deliberately and elegantly, Shen Yuan moved with a certain fluidity, like a dancer, beautiful to observe, intentional and graceful.

Luo Binghe tried his best to stay out of the way while still observing the man, watching how the other Peak Lords regarded him (warily, curiously, unabashedly), how the other disciples did (nervously, admiringly, longingly), how Shizun did (fondly, teasingly, crankily). He managed to last the better part of two days before he bumped into him himself.

Luo Binghe had been planning on manipulating circumstances to meet Shen Yuan in a way that seemed organically, ideally without Shizun there to poison him in the eyes of his brother. Fate, it seemed, was lightening his burden for a moment by orchestrating such an occasion for him.

Hurrying to a lesson that was nearly over, aching from a beating he’d received the night before, hungry because he’d been forced to miss lunch to make up for the work he’d left undone because he’d been too busy being beaten to see to his duties, Luo Binghe crashed into a tall, lithe figure.

Hands came up to catch Luo Binghe by the elbows but before they could make contact, Luo Binghe righted himself to keep from crashing to the ground. As he did so, a soft voice exclaimed in surprise, and Luo Binghe looked up to find his Shizun in front of him.

Ah.

It took barely an instant to realize that the man before him was surely not his Shizun but Shen Yuan. He shared Shizun’s features, undoubtedly, but, up close, he bore them a different way. Lighter, kinder perhaps.

He was dressed differently too. Whereas Shizun wore layer upon layer of neat robes, sleeves long but still practical for practicing calligraphy or playing the qin, sturdy fabrics embroidered with spells, exquisite, orderly, refined; Shen Yuan seemed dressed as a soft young lord in a rich household, dressed for comfort and leisure. The first glimpse Luo Binghe had caught of Shen Yuan, the man had dressed for practicality, for travel, yet now he dressed for repose in flowing layers of decadent silk and shimmery gossamer, like a dancer, like a consort, like a blooming flower. Luo Binghe flushed to see it. Though there was nothing inherently inappropriate in the clothes themselves, they still seemed scandalous on someone with his Shizun’s face.

“Excuse me,” Shen Yuan said, a soft laugh escaping a mouth whose pair Luo Binghe had only ever seen either in a snarl of disappointment or an arrogant sneer. “You’d think in all my years I’d know to watch where I’m going, but I never seem to learn.”

Luo Binghe stepped back to bow low.

“Pardon this disciple,” he said, heart thrumming like an insect’s wings at this chance meeting, at the sound of such sweet laughter from an easily smiling mouth.

“Ah, do not concern yourself,” Shen Yuan said with a calm tone, eyes crinkling at the corners.

As similar as his face was to his brothers, his voice couldn’t be more different. It was soft and light, like Luo Binghe’s favorite jasmine tea, brewed just right. Something that he hadn’t been able to indulge in since Shizun forbade Ning-shijie from taking tea with him.

Luo Binghe had the sudden, startling thought that he’d like to taste that voice on his tongue to see if it lay as smooth and warm in his mouth as that tea.

He suddenly felt ashamed at every unkind thought he’d ever had towards his Ning-shijie at how quickly she became infatuated with others.

“Still, this one must beg for punishment lest Shizun discover my slight and punish me ten times over for it.”

This was, perhaps, a gamble, a test of Shen Yuan’s character. Luo Binghe had heard rumor of how fierce this demonic brother of his unkind Shizun was and wanted to press, to see if it was his peak-mates’ prejudice against Shen Yuan’s cultivation or if it rang true. Would this gentle smile hold or would Shen Yuan reveal a demeanor to match Shizun’s? Would this man defend his brutal brother, dismiss Luo’s Binghe concerns, uncaring? Would he realize that Luo Binghe was free game and beat him himself?

Luo Binghe was shocked to the depths of him when Shen Yuan, instead, rolled his eyes and gave him a soft, reassuring smile.

“If my brother tries any such nonsense, just come to me, and I’ll beat him on the head for it. He should know better than to treat his disciples poorly.”

This gave Luo Binghe pause. He had been struck mute in other situations, but never before because someone had shown kindness to him. Not because it happened often enough to not surprise him but rather that it had never happened before, not since his mother had passed. He had come to expect, in his short, unfortunate life, that, when faced with a wretch like Luo Binghe, people would never choose kindness. He had come to terms with the fact that his face must simply be a beacon for cruelty. He was cursed by some god to always be beaten down, never to know kindness or love or respect.

Shen Yuan was a wonder. Defying the gods wishes.

Who had ever defended Luo Binghe so easily, so readily; a stranger besides? He spoke of reprimanding his own blood for a disciple he’d never met before as easily as if Luo Binghe was dear to his heart and Shen Qingqiu the stranger.

He was beautiful.

Luo Binghe had seen for himself that the Shen brothers were identical, but he doubted his Shizun’s face could ever manage to be this sweet. He was sure the peak lord of Qing Jing’s face would look pinched and bitter even in the depths of sleep.

Luo Binghe nearly blurted out then and there that he had been practicing demonic cultivation as well to see how the man would react, to have someone know his secret, but before he could, Shen Qingqiu rounded the corner, followed by Liu Qingge and a smattering of disciples. Likely, they were returning from the sword lessons that Luo Binghe had just missed.

“Excuse this disciple,” Luo Binghe said with a bow, hoping to escape before either his Shizun or his shixiong might degrade him in front of Shen Yuan.

“It was a pleasure meeting you,” Shen Yuan said. “I’m sure our paths will cross again.”

Shizun made it to his brother’s side, a familiar sneer beginning to form on his face.

”Didi,” Shen Yuan chided as Luo Binghe lifted from his bow. “You’d better not be mistreating your disciples or I’ll put that demonic infection right back just to teach you a lesson.”

Luo Binghe made his escape before he could hear whatever excuse Shen Qingqiu provided. Would he tell Shen Yuan of all Luo Binghe’s shortcomings? Would Shen Yuan still look at him kindly if he knew?

Still, Luo Binghe couldn’t help the fluttering of his heart at Shen Yuan’s defense of him. As he passed, he made sure his shoulder brushed Shen Yuan’s, desperate to get just a touch, the warmth of him, a brush of soft silk, the feeling of someone who practiced the same heretic cultivation and smiled at him so sweetly. Shen Yuan stiffened at the contact, but as Luo Binghe opened his mouth to apologize for causing offense, the man let out a gasp.

“Oh,” Shen Yuan said, catching Luo Binghe by the shoulders and turning him around. “That can’t be very comfortable. You have a whole tangle of energy trapped right…” Shen Yuan tapped Luo Binghe’s chest right at the bottom of his sternum, just above his belt, then trailed up until his finger was resting right between Luo Binghe’s eyebrows.

Through his confusion, Luo Binghe’s heart thrilled at being touched so casually. He shivered faintly, as cool energy soothed through his body, searching for whatever Shen Yuan had felt. It was unlike any spiritual energy that he had ever experienced before, so it must have been demonic. Luo Binghe wanted to treasure it, to hoard it away, this foreign energy, this part of Shen Yuan that was also a part of him. The energy moved through him, passing over the top, then back of his head, pooling in his collar bones before slipping down to stall in his chest. The energy curled around Luo Binghe’s beating heart, almost comforting even as it prodded.

And then, something shattered inside him.

“Oh!” Shen Yuan exclaimed again, this time as if he’d realized something just a second too late. “You’re—”

Then, a feeling ripped through Luo Binghe so quickly, so forcefully, it wasn’t even pain at first, just raw sensation that tore him to his knees.

When the pain hit, he opened his mouth to scream, to howl from some primal part of him, but his lungs seized so tightly that no sound escaped him. This was a torture all on its own, being unable to voice his pain. His body tensed so tightly, it felt as if it may break itself apart, though Luo Binghe was half-convinced through the pain that he had already broken to pieces. The pain ebbed only to surge again, beating like waves against rocks, tearing and soothing, burning and cooling.

And then, nearly as quickly as it had appeared in the first place, the pain inside of him coalesced and then left his body.

There was barely space to take a breath before rage rushed through Luo Binghe on the heels of the pain. He wasn’t quite sure the source of his sudden violent fury, whether it was from the same shattering that caused the pain, from the sudden betrayal at Shen Yuan’s hand, whom he’d just decided to drop his guard against, or simply from the anger that had been building since he’d joined the sect and discovered that he wasn’t truly welcome by his Shizun or his shixiong.

With nowhere for his rage to go but out, Luo Binghe released it with a cry he was finally able to voice.

He felt such relief he might have wept had he not opened his eyes to see a burst of energy strike all around him, throwing rocks, singing the grass, rusting trees.

“Oh, shit,” a nearby voice called.

Luo Binghe blinked through tear-blurred eyes to see Shen Yuan pull blades from his delicate flowing sleeves to deflect the demonic energy, protecting himself and Luo Binghe’s fellow sect members behind him.

It was then that Luo Binghe became aware enough to realize that he had revealed, in front of his peakmates and two peak lords, that he practiced demonic cultivation.

Then, the energy dispersed.

Drained, Luo Binghe drifted for a moment, worried he might collapse into the dirt until strong hands caught him by the shoulders as he swayed, sending more of the very same cooling energy through his body, calming the roiling qi that had just been released.

“A demon,” someone growled.

There was the sound of a sword being drawn, but when Luo Binghe raised his head to see who had drawn it, he found his vision blocked by Shen Yuan. The man was still on his knees from helping Luo Binghe, but he had released his shoulders and turned to put himself between Luo Binghe and the others with his blades, still whisping demonic qi into the cool mountain breeze, in hand.

“You dare draw on your own young disciple?” Shen Yuan demanded, furious. Protective.

Of Luo Binghe.

When had anyone defended him so readily?

“How can he be called such, having been accepted to our peaks under false pretenses, fooling even his own Shizun?”

Luo Binghe watched Shen Yuan’s attention turn to his brother.

“You’re going to stand there and let them draw on your disciple? Aren’t you the head of this peak?”

Luo Binghe’s Shizun’s lip was curled as he darted his attention between Luo Binghe and Shen Yuan. He looked feral almost, like a creature backed into a corner. Luo Binghe wondered how decisive his condemnation would have been without Shen Yuan there to stand for this newly discovered demonic disciple. Luo Binghe would have likely been cast from the mountain already if not cut down where he knelt.

He also wondered how far Shen Yuan’s defence of Luo Binghe would extend if this were something that would truly turn Shen Qingqiu against him. Surely he wouldn’t actually choose a demon over his own brother. Was this the gods ripping another kindness from him? Luo Binghe surely was cursed.

“Move,” said the voice again. Luo Binghe now saw that it was Liu Qingge speaking. “This is an internal matter that does not concern you. It is our duty to purge evil, even from our own peaks.”

Shen Yuan shifted where he knelt, and Luo Binghe feared for a moment that he was finally being left to the mercies of Liu Qingge’s furrowed brows and drawn sword. Shen Yuan, however, simply stood to his feet, continuing to place himself between Luo Binghe and the others.

“How can this young disciple be called evil so easily? What threat is he to the might of Cang Qiong? To the Bai Zhang war god? Have you no mercy? Have you no shame?”

“It is no shame to cut down a demon.”

What argument would anyone have to the contrary? Luo Binghe had no retort, nothing to deny the claims. There had been two peak lords in attendance to bear witness to Luo Binghe’s disgrace. He had been taught, as all other students on Cang Qiong, exactly what to do with demons, what to do with those who practiced dark cultivation. This was why they wielded swords, this was why they trained their bodies and minds and energies.

What shame indeed to utilize the skills they had all climbed the mountain to learn?

“I myself practice demonic cultivation,” Shen Yuan retorted, not a waver to his voice, neither shame nor dishonor in his words. “Would you cut me down as well?”

Silence followed his words. Even the wind stilled.

Luo Binghe watched Liu Qingge’s face darken, saw Shen Qingqiu’s face harden like steel.

“I have been vouched for by not only my brother, a Peak Lord, but also your sect leader. I will in turn vouch for Luo Binghe.”

Luo Binghe had not told him his name.

Liu Qingge was famous on the mountain for being short tempered, to be lacking in patience and diplomacy. He demonstrated that by stepping forward, his body falling into a fighting stance, a clear challenge to Shen Yuan’s drawn blades.

“You are not a part of this sect, you have no authority here.”

This seemed to have finally spurred Shizun into coming to a decision, from fleeing the corner he cowered in and entering the fray.

“You dare speak to my brother thusly on my peak?” He snarled, voice stern and cold, though there was a tremor in the way he held his hand, fingers twitching in a way that hinted he might form the seal to call forth Xiu Ya.

Shen Yuan, still in front of Luo Binghe, shifted on his feet. It was easy to tell from this close that his shoulders relaxed minutely, that he took a steady breath at his brother’s words. Had he been worried over which side Shizun would take?

Luo Binghe wanted him to never feel that kind of uncertainty. This kind soul who was being accused alongside Luo Binghe, who was defending him on unfamiliar territory. He deserved someone to stand by his side always without question. Luo Binghe wondered what it would take to be that person.

“I have the authority here,” Shizun continued, the sole voice on Shen Yuan’s side. For now. “I will decide who will be kicked from my peak. I will decide who will be challenged for their cultivation.”

Liu Qingge did not lower his stance, but he did cut his eyes to Shizun, the corners of his lips downturning to match his furrowed brows.

“So you knew your disciple was a demon?” He demanded of Shizun. “And you accepted him anyway?”

Luo Binghe turned his attention to Shizun as well, curious and hopeful, even as he tried to smother any yearning for it to be true. He was well-practiced at grinding any hope he may have to dust before it could be crushed under someone else’s heel.

“What kind of Peak Lord would I be if I cannot even determine such a thing of my own disciples?” Shizun declared, moving to stand, in the midst of the fray. “Of course I was aware that he was a demon. I judged the threat nonexistent. If a single child of demonic heritage was a danger to this sect then how great can we call ourselves?”

Luo Binghe was not close to Liu Qingge, but he could still hear his teeth grind together.

“He stands against everything we teach.”

Luo Binghe wanted to beg to differ. He was not standing at all at the moment, and even if he were, he didn’t have any demonic ambitions. He simply wanted to gain enough power for people to stop stepping on him, to earn respect and maybe even love. He wanted to be a good disciple, a decent cultivator, none of which were against Cang Xion’s teachings.

“This is an internal matter of Qing Jing,” Shizun said, repeating Liu Qingge’s earlier words. “I will deal with it as I see fit.”

“This affects all of Cang Qiong,” Liu Qingge countered.

“Then bring it up at our next meeting, as for now, I will make the decisions.”

“Shen Qingqiu,” Liu Qingge seethed only to be ignored.

“Come, brother, Luo Binghe, we will discuss this among ourselves. Shidi,” Shen Qinggiu then hissed as if it were a poison on his tongue, “surely you have some other duties on your own peak.”

Liu Qinge bristled at being dismissed so casually.

“And if I refuse?”

The already tense atmosphere grew thicker as the two peak lords stared each other down.

Shen Yuan turned back to Luo Binghe, then, seeming to trust his brother to handle his own sect mate.

As he reached out, Luo Binghe realized, inappropriately, that at some point, perhaps during Luo Binghe’s release of demonic energy, Shen Yuan’s gently flowing robes had been singed and knocked askew. The sleeves of his robes had been burned away completely, revealing strong, elegant arms up to the elbows, and the neck of his robes was cast down on one side, clutching just on the slope of a marble shoulder. There was a portion of chest revealed that may haunt Luo Binghe for eternity. The robes weren’t knocked nearly crooked enough to reveal anything as dangerous as a nipple, but just the thought that it might have drew Luo Binghe’s breath more quickly.

He had no judgments of Ning Yingying to take back at this time because if she’d ever had thoughts so shameless, she certainly hadn’t told Luo Binghe.

Shen Yuan helped Luo Binghe to his feet with gentle movements, as if he were afraid to hurt him. Even though Luo Binghe had nearly killed him with his burst of demonic energy, even though Luo Binghe had been caught in a lie and revealed as a fraud, he was still treated as something to be gently handled.

He could feel tears building, but he fought them desperately. How old was he, to cry like this? Hadn’t he promised himself not to cry on this peak again? Was all it took a gentle hand? If he wasn’t struck from the mountain for being a demon he might be for being an embarrassment.

Shen Yuan turned his attention back to Shizun and Liu-shishu, both of whom seemed as though they may draw back and strike at any time, both seeming as if they may start hissing at one another like cats or throwing punches like quarreling disciples.

“Collect your sect leader if you must, Liu-daozhang,” Shen Yuan called interrupting their staring. “But there will be no further discussion here.”

“You heard my brother,” Shizun said, turning his nose up at Liu Qingge, daring him to challenge his authority further.

He addressed the rest of the gathered congregation, disciples who had been watching every bit of the exchange with such rapt attention you would think they had been the audience of a drama.

“As for the rest of you, scram.”

That was all it took for them to scramble to make themselves scarce. Shizun’s stare was formidable on a good day, and this was certainly not a good day.

“And not a word of this to anyone outside of the peak or I will expel you all and have a demon as my only disciple left,” he called out to the fleeing disciples.

Luo Binghe wasn’t sure if he were serious or not, but he took the words as a sign that he may not be headed to his own execution when he followed Shizun. That hope was simple to hold onto, seeing as Shen Yuan was accompanying them. He seemed keen to play the role of Luo Binghe’s savior, surely he wouldn’t abandon his part so quickly.

Luo Binghe could only pray, though, the gods having proven their own disdain for him time and again, this might prove fruitless as it had many times in the past.

As he was being led by the elbow, still unsteady on his feet, Luo Binghe lost the battle against his tears. They pricked his eyes, threatening to blur his vision. He hadn’t prepared for this moment, hadn’t known there was a possibility for his heritage to be revealed like this, and he felt tender and torn apart, exposed and ashamed. He had not known this would happen, but he had still been on tenterhooks for the scant years he’d known about his demonic lineage, terrified that one day it may be revealed. He had detested the revelation himself at first, rejecting the fact that had been undeniable since he’d been visited by Meng Mo. Once he’d come to terms, he had lived in a constant state of fear, thankful, for the first time since coming to the sect, that he had private residence in his dingy little woodshed, scared the shared disciple dorm may have exposed him.

In his imaginings, he had been struck down for what he was, for going against their righteous sect. Shizun had cut him down with his sword or kicked him down the steps of Cang Qiong or delivered him directly to the demonic realm.

Yet, unprepared and shocked, shaken and hopeful, Luo Binghe was being led to Shizun’s bamboo cottage not bound and detested, not threatened or despised, but with gentle hands, protective and coddling as they helped him hobble his way on shaky legs.

“I apologize for all this,” Shen Yuan muttered to Luo Binghe. “I should not have meddled in your energy. I thought it was just a demonic blockage lingering from a hunt. If I had known, I would have discussed with you before breaking such a seal. I hope you may forgive me.”

Luo Binghe should have been angry. He was astonished at himself that he wasn’t at least a little put out. Perhaps he would have been had Shen Yuan not stood by and defended him so unflinchingly, had these hands not been leading him so gently. Had Shen Yuan not apologized with a soft, regretful smile, his eyes bright and cheeks still pinked from the earlier confrontation.

“It is no matter,” Luo Binghe responded. “Truly. This would have been revealed one way or another. I can only thank you for defending me so. I fear my fate may have been much worse had this been revealed under other circumstances. In different company.”

Shen Yuan grimaced, glancing at his brother’s back where he stalked angrily in front of them.

“I don’t doubt it.”

Ah, so he had little faith in Shen Qingiu as well.

Luo Binghe hadn’t been to Shen Qingqiu’s cottage in years. He tended to avoid it. The less his Shizun saw him, the less likely he was to be punished for something his fellow peak mates blamed him for.

He avoided the cottage for another reason, one he couldn't help but remember as he was led to sit in the same place it had happened. He could still feel the shock before the pain of the scalding tea hitting him, the heat that had sopped his robes, the blisters that had formed from where the tea had splashed, one on the back of his hand, one on his neck, one at the hollow of his throat. They had not scarred but he could feel them still, sometimes.

Thankfully, Shen Yuan was the one who sat to prepare the tea, Shizun remaining on his feet to pace, worrying his fan in his grip. Luo Binghe watched for a moment, slightly amazed to see his refined master in such a state. He hadn’t even been this frazzled when a demon army had marched on his peak and demanded a battle, and Luo Binghe had learned later that he had come straight from saving Liu-Shishu’s life in the Lingxi caves to the battle.

It was almost nice to see some sort of emotion from him other than disdain. Though, every time he glanced over at Luo Binghe, the familiar contempt washed over his expression again.

Luo Binghe looked away from his Shizun to find Shen Yuan staring at him. He looked as if he were observing a marvel, something wondrous and delightful, though he glanced away once he noticed Luo Binghe had moved his attention to him.

Luo Binghe stilled his thrilling heart. This was not admiration. Shen Yuan’s expression was likely because such a lowly disciple had violently exploded into a lethal ball of demonic energy. That would marvel anyone.

Shizun finally sat down at the low table as Shen Yuan poured them each a cup, serving them, though Luo Binghe should have done.

“Now, what to do now that everyone else knows this secret of yours, oh demonic disciple.”

Ah yes, Shizun had claimed to already be aware of Luo Binghe’s nature. Luo Binghe wondered when he had discovered it. Perhaps he had always known. Perhaps that was why he had never shown Luo Binghe any preference.

He wondered if Shizun had always turned a blind eye to those who bullied Luo Binghe because of his demonic nature.

“Shizun, you said. Did you already…?”

“Of course I didn’t know, little fool,” Shizun snarled, staring into his cup of tea before he whirled on Binghe, eyes wild and furious. “How dare you try to conceal something like this from me? I should have you beaten bloody, I should hurl you from the–” He stopped to take a breath. “But that is no longer an option seeing as my brother is equally as foolish as you, revealing this blight on Qing Jing, defending him like that. Making me choose between you and my sect.”

He hurled the last words at Shen Yuan, tone accusatory though his eyes softened from their wildness.

“A-Jiu, what was I supposed to do? Let him be run through by your fellow peak lord?”

Ah, so Shen Yuan would defend him even here, even in the face of his enraged brother. How wonderful this man was. He was the true marvel.

“Perhaps,” Shizun replied, “He surely deserved it for concealing such a thing.”

Luo Binghe tried not to feel disappointed, defeated. He had only ever tried his best to impress his Shizun, and if not impress him, then to not be a disappointment. He had never deluded himself into thinking Shizun was proud to be his teacher, that he was wanted in the sect. Still, he felt shame and hurt bubble to the surface at Shizun’s words.

“He had a cradle seal,” Shen Yuan said, patting Luo Binghe on the arm as if the touch wouldn’t burn through him, consume him, make it difficult to breathe. “It was placed there when he was a baby. He probably had no idea of his heritage until I meddled.”

Luo Binghe had, but he wouldn’t reveal that to Shizun. Not now. Not when doing so would likely get his head bitten off.

“And now Qi-ge is likely on his way to take neither side and bat his eyelashes and meddle in my peak’s business.”

“Please, you love it when he bats his eyelashes at you.”

Luo Binghe ducked his head to hide a snort of laughter. Shen Qingqiu’s belligerent infatuation with Yue Qingyuan was as famous on the peak as it was taboo to speak about. To hear it stated so obvious to Shizun’s face was hilarious and terrifying.

Though he had hidden his amusement, Shizun apparently clocked the movement of Luo Binghe’s head because he swiveled on him, turning fierce eyes on him.

He didn’t say anything, just stared ferociously before saying, “I will meet Yue-Zhangmen in the garden. I cannot look at this,” he gestured furiously to Luo Binghe, “any longer.”

“If you need any help with Qi-ge, let me know,” Shen Yuan said as Shen Qingqiu stood just as forcefully as he’d sat down. “Sometimes he gets too intimidated by your eyebrows and ends up standing his ground on instinct.”

Shen QIngqiu curled his lip, but nodded.

“Don’t touch anything else, Yuan-ge. I don’t need any more surprises,” he said. He turned to leave. But whirled back around to hiss, “And change your clothes. You look ridiculous.”

As Shen Qingqiu snapped open his fan and stalked from the room, Shen Yuan and Luo Binghe both turned their gazes to Shen Yuan’s torn robes, both flushing hot red, though presumably for different reasons.

Luo Binghe busied himself with righting his own robes and tidying up the table with shaky hands as Shen Yuan ducked into Shizun’s spare room to change. In the quiet of the bamboo hut, the rustling of fabric was faint but still audible, maddening to a degree Luo Binghe had never experienced before. His hands shook further as he tried not to conjure any images in his head.

Luo Binghe was sitting with his hands clenched so tightly in his lap that his nails nearly drew blood when Shen Yuan reentered. He was adjusting the ornaments that hung from his belt as he sat at the table in a fresh set of flowy, decadent robes.

“I apolo-” Luo Binghe started, stopping with a hand clamped over his mouth when his voice cracked.

Shen Yuan tried to hide a smile behind his hand as he gestured for Luo Binghe to continue.

Luo Binghe, humiliated, cleared his throat to continue.

“I apologize for your robes. I will, of course, find a way to pay you back for the damage.”

“No need to worry yourself,” Shen Yuan said with an easy smile and a dismissive wave of his hand. He lounged back as he spoke, looking every bit the spoiled concubine Luo Binghe was desperately trying not to imagine him as. “They weren’t even my favorite set. Besides, what point is there in having a fancy peak lord as a brother other than making him pay for your nice robes?”

This image of doting, indulgent Shizun would’ve been almost unbelievable had Luo Binghe not seen him with Shen Yuan. It might have made him fond had he not already despised Shizun nearly to the depths of him.

Luo Binghe wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so he didn’t, letting the silence settle between them until he couldn’t stand it anymore.

“I already knew,” Luo Binghe muttered, nearly so softly as to remain unheard.

Shen Yuan had busied himself with rifling through the texts Shen Qingqiu had sitting on the corner of his table, but his attention turned to Luo Binghe immediately as if he’d been waiting to be spoken to. What a thrill to have those eyes so intently on him.

“Knew what?”

Luo Binghe almost forgot what he’d been saying, so pleased to be caught in that intense gaze. He paused to gather his thoughts, face burning hot under the attention. His embarrassment left him as he remembered his little confession.

“I knew that I was in some part a demon,” he said lowly, ashamed, fearing rejection, craving someone to know. “I have been practicing demonic cultivation in secret for years.”

Shen Yuan blinked at him for a moment before breaking into an easy grin.

“I had assumed as much,” he said, leaning over to take Luo Binghe’s hand in his.

Luo Binghe’s heart nearly broke through his ribcage beating so hard until he realized Shen Yuan wasn’t taking his hand to hold but instead, his wrist to check his meridians.

“Even with the seal, there was demonic energy in your veins,” Shen Yuan said easily, either ignoring or unaware of the way Luo Binghe could barely breathe with that warm, gentle hand on him.

Luo Binghe had felt desire before. He had been infatuated and yearned. He had longed for a hand, a touch, a mouth, soft, pink lips, long, pale necks, thin, shapely wrists. He had taken himself in hand imagining hands on him, tight warmth, bruising kisses.

This was the same.

This was something completely new.

He had desired before, but he had never desired like this. Never this quickly, never this consumingly. He wanted to be crushed under Shen Yuan’s weight until he couldn’t breathe, he wanted to shrink him down and keep him in the palm of his hand for the rest of eternity, he wanted to carve his heart from his own chest to make a home for Shen Yuan there.

Was all it took to gain his devotion, a soft touch and a kind smile? But he had received those before. His Shijie had shown him such and he’d clung to her, desired her, but never like this. Was it that he had protected Luo Binghe? That he shared the same darkness in him?

“See, just there, the energies are mingling,” Shen Yuan said, oblivious to Luo Binghe’s thoughts, though they felt as if they were so obvious as to be written on his forehead. “Though you do an exceptional job of keeping the demonic energy from corrupting your core. Is that instinctual or do you have a teacher?”

Luo Binghe would not be so distracted as to be caught out being unfaithful to his Shizun’s teaching, even if he had been, he wouldn’t let it be known.

“Your brother is my Shizun, I would never disrespect–”

“I won’t tell him if you’ve taken another master,” Shen Yuan interrupted, releasing his wrist, though Luo Binghe felt bereft without the touch. “In fact, it would rest my nerves to know you had someone to teach you. Demonic energy is best learned from someone rather than figured out on your own. It can be very dangerous if not handled properly.”

“How did you learn?” Luo Binghe wondered.

Shizun was a peak lord of an esteemed cultivation sect. Surely one brother couldn’t have such potential, reach such lofty goals while the other was left lacking, so bereft of ability or training. Not unless power had been hoarded by one, but Shizun and his brother seemed close. Close enough to have not climbed over one another in their journey for power.

What had pushed Shen Yuan so far as to result in his seeking wicked ways?

“I was a sickly child,” Shen Yuan said. “In fact, I am likely only alive today because your Shizun was too stubborn to let me die.” Luo Binghe mourned the fact that he was in debt to Shizun for Shen Yuan’s life. “I survived, but at great cost to the integrity of my body, my spiritual veins in particular.”

Shen Yuan settled in to tell his story, so Luo Binghe settled as well, trying to pay attention to his words rather than the indolent sprawl of his limbs.

“My brother and I were both born with tremendous spiritual potential, but we were raised in an environment that crippled both our skills,” he said, his voice smooth and rich like honey. Luo Binghe wanted to cup it in his palms and drip its sweetness into his open mouth. “Then, we took up under a master who promised to help us, who, instead, further damaged our cultivation, though mine more deeply. I suffered deviations often, my body unable to handle the strain of cultivating. It nearly killed me.”

Luo Binghe wondered what it had been like, wondered if his own experience was comparable. When he had first come to the sect, Luo Binghe had been told he had exceptional natural talent, yet he had been given a false cultivation manual that had made his cultivation progress stall, that had led him to a minor qi deviation. It likely would have led to more damage had Shizun not stepped in then, realized what had happened, and given Luo Binghe a proper manual.

“I will not be known for crippling another’s cultivation,” Shizun had said, then, from Luo Binghe’s sickbed, his expression sour. “I have seen it done and will not shame this peak by doing the same.”

Shizun had been adept at treating his qi deviation, quick to determine the problem, horrified to discover it had happened on his peak. Luo Binghe wondered if all that was because he had watched Shen Yuan go through that all as well.

Was his Shizun’s every kindness in the name of Shen Yuan?

“In our search to cure my cultivation sickness, we…obtained,” Shen Yuan said with pause. Luo Binghe wondered if he had stolen it. “A cultivation manual that was demonic in nature, straight from the journal of a human lover to a demonic lord. They outlined the process, described how to cultivate demonic qi without corrupting one’s own body and mind. The process, the gathering and purging of resentful energy eradicated the sickness, healed my veins, unburdened my heart.”

Shen Yuan smiled to himself.

“And so here I am today, a blight upon righteous cultivation, but alive,” Shen Yuan said.

“You could never be a blight on anything,” Luo Binghe blurted, the words out of his mouth before he could stop them. They were embarrassing to say even as they were true. “Just because you cultivate differently doesn’t make you evil.”

“Ah, if only other righteous cultivators thought that way,” Shen Yuan sighed. “As it is, perhaps you and I should stick together.”

Luo Binghe would burn the whole world down for that to become his life. It seemed, though, as if he wouldn’t have to.

It was then, as Luo Binghe stared longingly, adoringly at this beautiful creature, that Shizun burst back into the bamboo house with a scowl on his face and a deep flush to his cheeks. Luo Binghe snapped his posture to perfection, ripping his eyes from where they had lingered on the dip of Shen Yuan’s waist.

“You may stay for now,” Shizun hissed, sounding both put out and victorious, “but one step out of line and you will be expelled from the sect without another chance.”

Luo Binghe nodded, looking to Shen Yuan who smiled genially at his brother before turning his grin on Luo Binghe, his eyes crinkling in the corners, little dimples appearing in the lines of his smile. Luo Binghe wondered, distantly, through the ringing in his ears, if Shizun also had dimples like that.

“Now out!” Shizun barked, startling Luo Binghe, though it shouldn’t have, seeing as this was how he normally spoke to him. “Get out of my sight ungrateful wretch.”

Luo Binghe sprung to his feet, headed toward the door before Shizun could change his mind and have him tossed from the mountain. As eager as he was to never remove himself from Shen Yuan’s side, he was just as eager to not be exiled never to see the man again.

“Didi,” Shen Yuan scolded before turning to Luo Binghe. “He’s just tired of having to talk to so many people at once. He doesn’t mean it.”

Luo Binghe was sure that the man very much did mean it, but he was too dazzled by the indulgent twinkle to Shen Yuan’s eyes to care.

“More like tired of cleaning up your mess, and yes I do,” Shizun grumbled even as he allowed Shen Yuan to pat him on the shoulder.

“We’ll talk later, Binghe,” Shen Yuan said, fluttering Luo Binghe’s heart with such a sweet calling of his name. “I’m sure we have much more to discuss.”

Luo Binghe wandered from the bamboo house feeling as light as a feather, high on the shock of his heritage being discovered and the beauty of Shen Yuan’s gracious nature. Before today he would have said with confidence that he needed no one in this life, but now, he felt as if he would die if Shen Yuan’s was not a face he would see every day until the end of eternity.

“So, how were Qi-ge’s eyelashes?” Luo Binghe heard Shen Yuan ask as he exited.

He didn’t hear the response other than a dull thud that may have been a body crashing to the ground. Luo Binghe didn’t have time to worry after Shen Yuan’s health before gentle laughter floated from the windows.

“That good, huh?”

Luo Binghe was going to marry that man if it were the last thing he ever did.

Notes:

i was blown away by the reaction to the first chapter so i tore this one out. hope y’all enjoy it!

First time writing lbh POV and accidentally made him way hornier than anticipated but in retrospect thats probably what his POV would be like anyway so no regrets. Also i admit to being wifebeamed by shen yuan as well and am projecting that onto lbh but can you really blame me

Also i tried to give luo binghe’s internal monologue the most realistic “the world hates me” 17 year old mentality as possible especially since this world does canonically hate him at the moment for tragic anime background purposes courtesy of one airplane shooting towards the sky

I also dont know if it came across, but i made sj’s pov more reflective with lots of flashbacks where lbh’s POV is more in the present. Ive been trying to make internal voices not all sound the same so this is my attempt at that

also im actually not a shen jiu apologist. He didnt deserve his canon fate, but he doesn’t deserve to be babygirlified to the extent he is. a shitty childhood is never a good excuse to make another kid suffer through a shitty childhood. That said, i did soften his edges from canon. i didn’t want to change canon too badly regarding luo binghes treatment at cang qiong under the original shen qingqiu but i honestly think that having a brother to go through all that at his side would 1. make him feel less like the rest of the world was against him since he had someone to suffer at his side and 2. make him more sympathetic to others suffering.

i didn’t think shen yuan would recognize lbh right away since he’s been in this world for so long now and he’s only ever read bout him and he’s so much younger now he just thought of his cute disciple of my brother has some demonic energy trapped in his spiritual veins let me just clear that out

SY: my brother has such cute disciples
SY: i wonder if ill know once he finally accepts luo binghe. I hope so that way i can stop him from being a dickwad and dooming himself and maybe even one day me for sharing the same face
Sy: omg this adorable unnamed plot-irrelevant disciple of my brother has a lot of demonic energy trapped someone should clear that out
SY: ohshitohshitohshit

tell me what you think!

Chapter 3

Notes:

lbh pov again for this chapter but shen jiu pov next

sorry in advance for making lbh such an obsessed freak. in my defense Lbh really just possesses me when i write his pov i promise i dont mean to make him an obsessed stalker freak lbh wants me to write him that way. thats his truth

Ive never felt this urge before but when i write lbh’s inner pov i want to fill it with emojis maybe because hes a teenager maybe because he’s so smitten and a freak about it idk but the urge is strong

Luo Binghe may have been allowed to stay, but that didn’t necessarily mean he was welcome.

But had he ever really been?

Luo Binghe was unsure if he’d ever really been welcome anywhere in his whole life. He had been welcome by his mother, of course, she had been a light in his life like none other. His heart would ever ache at her loss. She had, however, lived as a servant to an unkind, demanding patrician. Her presence in their household had been disdained, among both the proud family of the estate and the other servants who worked in the home, though she had dutifully provided a necessary service. How much more had the squalling orphan turned pitiful scrap of wretch she’d rescued from the gutters been a blight? As he’d been driven away from the only home he’d known other than the icy channel that had given him his name, he had wondered if the patrons were pleased his mother had passed, an excuse to send him away and hire another washerwoman without any scraggly hangers-on.

Cang Qiong had been meant to be his new start, a home where he’d never had one, a balm for his broken heart, a shelter for his aching body. That dream had been washed away in scalding tea and the sneer his Shizun hadn’t even bothered to hide behind his fan. He had realized in that moment that he was disdained here as well, with no kind mother to soothe him when he was lonely.

On this unwelcome peak, lofty, lush and magical, Luo Binghe had lived and thrived despite the treatment he received, to the further disdain of those around him. Perhaps he thrived because of spite, perhaps he thrived for his mother who hadn’t had the chance. Perhaps he thrived only because of the horror inside of him that made him strong, that made him some beastly thing. He thrived in spite of the backbreaking labor, the constant rejection from his peers, the indifference from his Shizun.

Luo Binghe had thrived in spite of the endless lessons he missed. He had long been in the habit of missing lessons, being either tied up in borrowed chores or too sore and bruised to make it. Since his demonic heritage had been revealed, he had yet to be allowed to attend a single one.

Luo Binghe had also long been in the habit of being despised. Since he had been thought the poor bastard of a poor woman, since he had been an orphan begging on the streets, since he’d become a beloathed disciple of a prestigious sect.

Now was different, though.

He was still despised, yes, he was ever to be despised, but where before, Luo Binghe had been simply scorned, now he was feared as well. The other disciples had begun curling their lips and gripping their swords and making signs to ward evil whenever he was near. Ming Fang now stared at him with disdain tinted with something akin to validation, perhaps feeling vindicated for his years of torment.

As always, Ning Yingying was the only one who would talk to him, though even she was slightly wary. At least, she had been until she realised that Luo Binghe wanted nothing more than to fall into Shen Yuan's lap and remain there for the rest of eternity. That had turned her wariness into endless teasing which would have been annoying had Luo Binghe not been so touched she was still speaking to him.

On the plus side, however, all the other disciples were too afraid of him now to bully him.

The time that Luo Binghe had free from going to classes was spent in a much more fulfilling and thrilling way: at Shen Yuan’s side, learning of demonic cultivation in the light of day. He would have been content to simply spend his time bathing in Shen Yuan’s warmth, but to his endless joy and fortune, Shen Yuan quickly revealed himself as an excellent teacher.

Shen Yuan was similar to his brother in many ways but his teaching style couldn’t have been more different. Where Luo Binghe’s Shizun was strict and cold, sparse of words and sharp of tongue, Shen Yuan was supportive and gentle, patient and encouraging, breathtaking and so lovely.

“Binghe,” Shen Yuan said to Luo Binghe the morning after his demonic cultivation was discovered, calling him so intimately, smiling so sweetly. “Not to doubt any skill you might already possess, but I would feel better if I had the chance to pass on at least some of the knowledge I have collected. I would hesitate to interrupt your normal schedule, but perhaps we might find time for me to instruct you in the ways of demonic cultivation, at least for the time I am here.”

As if there was anything on earth or in the heavens that was more important than basking in Shen Yuan’s presence.

“I have time today!” Luo Binghe responded with his brightest smile, a piece of him still scared that Shen Yuan might take back his offer, frightened that Shen Yuan would uncover that tainted part of him that had made Shen Qingqiu hate him from the beginning, that everyone always found in him to hate. “I have been excused from lessons while they make a more permanent decision on my place here on the peak.”

Luo Binghe tried not to let the resentment show on his face. This peak that he had dutifully served for years, that he had been abused and misused on, that he had loved even despite the abuse, stood primed to cast him off.

Shen Yuan made a disgruntled face at that, his disgust, while the closest expression to his brother’s Luo Binghe had seen on his face, still a far cry from the harshness of Luo Binghe’s Shizun.

“The Sect Leader has already said you could stay,” Shen Yuan said. “What else is there to decide?”

Whether or not they should kill me in my sleep? Luo Binghe thought. Whether or not to banish me for even accidentally bringing shame? Whether to hide my heritage and foist me onto another sect and be done with the whole mess?

“Perhaps they are unsure as to how I should be educated since I dabble in both spiritual and demonic cultivation. It could be dangerous for both myself and my fellow disciples were something to go wrong.”

Shen Yuan scoffed, but nodded.

“Well, that gives us plenty of time, then.”

Luo Binghe followed Shen Yuan as he led the way to where they were to practice, entranced by his steady gait, the sway of his dark hair at each step, the fall of his robes that were cinched tight at his waist and draped enticingly around his form. He still had yet to dawn the practical travel clothes he’d arrived in, choosing instead the soft, decadent finery of a favored consort or a demon of love. Luo Binghe wanted to feel them against his skin, wanted to pool them to the ground; he wanted to wash them when they were dirty.

Shen Yuan led them to Shizun’s garden right at the edge of the bamboo forest, meticulously maintained not to be swallowed up into the bamboo forest itself, shady and breezy and smelling sweetly of the peach trees that lined the perimeter.

Luo Binghe was caught staring intently at Shen Yuan’s back when the man turned suddenly. Shen Yuan seemed not to have noticed his hungry eyes, simply smiling encouragingly and drawing his blades from his sleeves, slipping into a practiced and elegant fighting stance.

“To start, I’d like you to demonstrate what you know, please,” Shen Yuan stated, open and encouraging.

And, for the first time since learning of his heritage, Luo Binghe did.

He gathered his demonic energy up and let his aura shine through. Most of his demonic teachings, while from a renowned demonic elder, had been in the dream realm. He had been too frightened to let loose any demonic energy on Cang Qiong lest he be caught out. The few times he had allowed himself to use his cultivation on the rare nighthunt he was allowed on, it was thrilling and terrifying, and he’d had to sneak away from his peak mates. Ming Fan had nearly caught him at it once, a close scare that had been the last time he’d tried it.

Now, he had no reason to be afraid, no one to catch him in the act, no one to discover a sordid secret, a hidden evil. Shen Yuan wanted to see his cultivation. Luo Binghe wanted to show him.

Their fight was quick, of course. All of Luo Binghe’s years of missed lessons had done him no favors when it came to his sword forms, and, demonic cultivation or no, it was obvious that Shen Yuan was leagues ahead of him. A beautiful threat wrapped in flowing silk. Luo Binghe had wondered briefly why Shen Yuan would spar without so much as tying up his sleeves but it quickly became apparent that this was a strategy unto itself. His robes fluttered around him obscuring his movements, drawing the eye, making him appear twice as large as he actually was.

Perhaps the fight might have lasted longer had Luo Binghe not been distracted by fluttering sleeves and a pale knee that made its way from between sweeping robes to wink at Luo Binghe’s unguarded heart.

“Again.” Shen Yuan said when their first spar ended with his sword at a luo Binghe’s throat, a place it was welcome anytime.

Over and over they sparred, each fight lasting such a short while that Luo Binghe should have been embarrassed. As it was, he was overcome with such joy. He wished to lose to Shen Yuan in a spar forever.

Their final spar of the day ended with Luo Binghe blinking up at the clouds drifting by before he even realized he’d been swept from his feet. He was sweating and out of breath and more in love than he’d began the day.

Being knocked to the ground was a constant in lessons Luo Binghe made it to, by Shizun, by his fellow disciples, most recently by Peak Lord Liu. What was new was the hand extended to help him to his feet.

Shen Yuan’s hand was warm, calloused on the palm but silk smooth on the top. Luo Binghe was almost dazed enough to bring it to his lips, but luckily Shen Yuan’s lilting voice shook him from his stupor before he could be so foolish.

“For only just beginning, that was an excellent use of demonic energy!” Shen Yuan said with a grin, cheeks delightfully flushed, hair slipping from the ribbon that it was tied in. “Truly, you are a natural at our craft!”

Luo Binghe barely heard anything other than the word our. He craved like he’d never before. He wanted everything he touched, everything he experienced to be labeled as such from Shen Yuan’s lips.

Our. Our. Our.

HIs mind became a mantra until he missed what Shen Yuan said next. He cursed his distracted mind. He never wanted to miss another word from Shen Yuan’s mouth. He said such lovely things. How could Luo Binghe treasure them if he was too distracted to hear them?

“Ah, pardon, I didn’t quite catch that.”

“Oh, you must be tired!” Shen Yuan exclaimed. He was still holding Luo Binghe’s hand. “Using your demonic energy like that the first few times out in the open is exhausting. Trust me, I had my fair share of having to be carried to bed after pushing myself too hard. Let’s sit and talk for a bit so I don’t have to embarrass you like that.”

Luo Binghe wanted.

But, before he could pretend like using his energy had sapped him until he swooned into Shen Yuan’s arms to be carried like a damsel for all to see, Shen Yuan led them to a soft patch of grass containing a low table and cushions to sit. Shen Yuan let go of his hand as they sat, regrettably, but he turned his undivided, piercing attention to Luo Binghe so it wasn’t all a loss.

“Tell me what you have learned about your heritage so far.”

As the breeze fluttered around them, stirring Shen Yuan’s hair, wafting the sweet fragrance of his skin to Luo Binghe’s greedy senses, Luo Binghe spoke. With every encouraging nod of Shen Yuan’s head, every gleam in his eye and quirk of his lips, Luo Binghe told him all that he had learned, the dream manipulation, how to utilize the resentment around him, how to keep it from corrupting his hard bought golden core.

He found himself wanting to tell everything to that sweet face, he wanted to rave about his tragic, lovely mother, rant about his horrible shixiong, tattle on his indifferent Shizun. He wanted to pour his soul into the cup of Shen Yuan’s palms, to melt every part of himself down to be made into jewelry to sit at his breast. He wanted Shen Yuan to know every part of him and love him not in spite but because.

He wanted. He wanted. He wanted.

Shen Yuan never grew bored of his excited ramblings. He didn’t tease when Luo Binghe’s voice cracked or tell him he was talking too much. Didn’t scold him for going off topic. In fact, unless he was an excellent pretender, he stayed engaged and interested the whole time, asking questions, seeking clarification, offering praise.

“I can also heal myself,” Luo Binghe enthused, drunk on the attention. Delighted by this man’s attention specifically. “However, that takes considerable concentration. I am getting better, though.”

He wanted Shen Yuan to know he was strong, to see him as something other than a child, a mere student under his tutelage. Not that he was ashamed of being Shen Yuan’s student, he would treasure that, he would carve the fact into his chest if given the chance. No greater gift could he be given that to be taught by such a wonder. But to be more? Something like an equal? Luo Binghe desired it like he’d desired food when he had been starving.

“Ah, that is likely more to do with your specific demonic heritage than demonic cultivation in general,” Shen Yuan said. “There are distinct traits that are passed through bloodlines among demons.”

Shen Yuan spoke with a giddy smile on his face, with envy in his voice. He didn’t think the demonic blood running through Luo Binghe’s veins was dirty. Shen Yuan saw wonder in it and Luo Binghe saw wonder in Shen Yuan.

Luo Binghe had always thought himself hated by the heavens, but perhaps he had gotten it wrong. Perhaps instead of being punished by the heavens, his previous suffering was building to the sweet reward of Shen Yuan in his life. He felt blessed. He would do anything for this to be his reward. He would walk straight into the Endless Abyss if the bounty was Shen Yuan.

“How so?” Luo Binghe asked, barely remembering what they had been talking about, too giddy on the way Shen Yuan looked at him.

“Well, there are demons in the Northern Desert who are capable of creating their own spatial rifts,” Shen Yuan said. “They also have powers over ice.”

He sat up straighter as he spoke, the gleam in his eye deepening. Luo Binghe basked in the emotion on Shen Yuan’s face. He was so beautiful when he spoke of things that interested him. Shizun should keep his brother under tighter lock and key lest someone steal him away. Though, it was too late now, seeing as Luo Binghe intended to be the one doing the stealing.

“There is a demon clan in the west which can breathe underwater. A clan from the mountains that is able to change their form to camouflage themselves.” Luo Binghe would listen to him list demon clans for hours. “You, Binghe, are a very special type of demon. A heavenly demon. The last of your kind or so I have read.”

Luo Binghe’s heart fluttered when Shen Yuan said his name like that, and fluttered again that Shen Yuan called him special.

“How can you tell?”

And then Shen Yuan’s perfect hand lifted and a perfect finger poked Luo Binghe right between the eyebrows.

“I’m not sure if anyone has informed you, or if you have seen yourself, but you have a demonic zuiyin right here, shaped like a little flame. It was larger when your demonic seal was broken, but it has shrunken about to the size of a dragon eye fruit. If I had any skill I would draw it for you.

“A Zuiyin?” Luo Binghe asked, his forehead wrinkling under where Shen Yuan’s finger was pressed.

So his dirty blood was written on his forehead for all to see, the shame of his birth, the sin he had cultivated?

Luo Binghe felt no resignation, no despair that he was marked so. No one had ever needed a mark to mistreat him before, what would this change? Not having a mark had never stopped anyone from abusing him. The lack of one had not made anyone put a stop to the harm Luo Binghe had always received, not really, not when pressure befell them. Not his mother who had never seen how he had been talked down to, ignorant to how cruel those around had been to him, a poor bastard of a poor washerwoman. In the time he’d spent on the street between his mother’s passing and his entry into Cang Qiong, there had never been a helping hand, not a kind stranger, not a benevolent eye. His hopes had risen and then been dashed upon his entry into Qing Jing peak, his fellow disciples quick to learn that no matter what they did to Luo Binghe, their Shizun would look the other way.

Now, he was marked as someone unclean, someone who deserved scorn, who should be pushed to the ground rather than helped to his feet. It was proof that everyone who had turned a blind eye before had not been without reason.

Luo Binghe was too used to life throwing him into the gutter to be disappointed.

“Ah, but there is nothing shameful in it,” Shen Yuan said, his finger stroking gently twice over the alleged mark before pulling away. “It represents your ancestor’s the fall from the heavens, but it bears no shame upon your own character. In fact, I find it quite lovely.”

Luo Binghe’s heart grew wings.

“What does it look like?” Luo Binghe asked, wondering how to get Shen Yuan to call any part of him lovely once again.

“It is a deep red, like the plumage of a Liltling First-Blood Egret^[1], or like the stamens on a Twice-cursed Heartache Blossom^[2].”

Binghe nodded as if he understood, though he had never encountered either. How traveled and learned was Shen Yuan, to speak of rare beasts and plants as if everyone, even a seventeen-year-old sequestered on a mountain, might know. Luo Binghe wanted to travel with him and know of many more creatures with him, to hold knowledge together.

“Ah, but you’ve likely never seen either. To call it blood red would be doing it a disservice. It almost glows. Like a jewel in the sun or the first rays of a sunrise. Though deeper than that. Perhap we may find a mirror for you to admire it.”

Luo Binghe brushed his fingers over the mark as well. He wanted to bring his fingers to his lips to kiss even the lingering heat of his new demonic teacher on his skin, but he didn’t want Shen Yuan to see him do that.

“Shen–” Luo Binghe started, then stopped. How had he been addressing Shen Yuan? Surely not by his name. He doubted it. Had Shizun heard, he may have gutted Luo Binghe for the presumption. “Shen-Laoshi,” Luo Binghe tested out. It wasn’t quite right. “Shen-Shishu, Shen-Xiansheng?”

Shen Yuan laughed. “Is just Shen Yuan so bad?”

Luo Binghe blushed hard at the informality, the closeness implied. He burned deep to say it aloud, to call him intimately, to feel Shen Yuan’s name on his lips, the shape of it in his mouth. He was nearly prepared to risk Shizun’s wrath for the privilege.

“I–I–I’m not sure if that would be–I only mean…” Luo Binghe’s voice gave out so he tried, “Shen Yuan.”

Shen Yuan smiled genially at him.

“See, was that so hard?” he asked with a laugh and a pat to Luo Binghe’s knee as he stood. “No need to be so formal around me. We are already practicing heretic cultivation. Why not bend a few other traditions?”

Luo Binghe wanted to bend more than just traditions in this serene clearing.

As the days progressed and the lessons continued, Luo Binghe soaked up Shen Yuan’s teaching like a cloth dropped into a puddle, like a pancake dipped in broth, like a ghost-trapping talisman activated in a mass grave. He craved it like the Ever-Devouring Spirit Buffalo that grew hungrier the more it ate, whose appetite couldn’t be slaked until it had either consumed everything in sight or it was brutally slain. The more of Shen Yuan’s time Luo Binghe was allowed, the more he wanted, the more he needed. He despised Shizun and his fellow disciples who would come to call Shen Yuan away from him, he loathed the other Peak Lords who came to gawk and question, he detested even the slightest flutter of the breeze in the peach trees nearby that drew Shen Yuan’s attention away from him even for a moment.

It didn’t take long for Luo Binghe to grow possessive of Shen Yuan. To crave his attention, those kind eyes and soft smile on him alone. In accordance, he also became resentful of anyone else interacting with Shen Yuan. He would watch each interaction with careful eye, wondering if he would look at any of them with the same tender wonder. Why should he, anyway? He and Luo Binghe were the same. None of them were demonic cultivators like them. None of them faced rejection for their craft, were looked at with wary eyes and distrusting glances.

Luo Binghe quickly became grateful for his exclusion from normal peak lessons for a reason other than allowing time for lessons with Shen Yuan. It also gave him ample opportunity to trail after Shen Yuan wherever he went, keeping tabs on who was seeking his company, how people looked at him, what conversations they had.

Both Ning Yingying and Meng Mo had something to say about his behavior. Ning-shijie took the side of strict reprimand, while Meng Mo only encouraged him further. Since they gave such opposite advice, Luo Binghe decided continuing as he was was the best course of action, a neutral middleground.

Shen Yuan thought Luo Binghe was resting during these times, which he was. He could rest and listen at the same time! Besides, his natural affinity for healing aided in his recovery, the only side effect being a ravenous appetite that was easy to sate with food from the kitchens stored neatly in his sleeves for easy access as he sat under a window and listened intently.

Shizun was the person Shen Yuan spent the most time with, naturally. Other than Luo Binghe. As much as it filled him with envy, Luo Binghe wouldn't begrudge Shen Yuan time spent with his brother whom he hadn’t seen in many months before he had been called to Qing Jing. Besides, Luo Binghe at least owed Shizun this much. For bringing Shen Yuan to the peak, for convincing Zhangmen-Shibo to let him stay, for keeping him alive when they’d been children. Luo Binghe also owed him this for actions he intended to take towards his beloved brother in the future.

Shen Yuan and Shizun would sit, sometimes for hours, teasing back and forth, reminiscing, complaining loudly and hilariously about anything and everything. Much to Luo Binghe’s dismay, they hadn’t spoken much on him other than vague updates on his lessons and snide commentary on how Shen Yuan could do better. From what Luo Binghe had discerned, they had argued over him at some point while he hadn’t been around to eavesdrop, and so tread lightly now. Luo Binghe also suspected that Shizun had surmised that Luo Binghe was following Shen Yuan around, though he had yet to catch him in the act.

“I still haven’t decided what to do about that little beast,” Shizun muttered one evening as Luo Binghe sat underneath their window finishing his supper.

“What do you mean what to do with him?” Shen Yuan asked. “And don’t call him ‘little beast’.”

Luo Binghe had discovered in his eavesdroppings that Shen Yuan refused to either hear or speak a bad word against him, even in private. In fact, the man was often defending him to his brother under no one’s scrutiny than the very master that didn’t care if Luo Binghe lived or died. Luo Binghe preened under the wing of such a wonder as Shen Yuan.

“I mean, what do I do with a demon on my mountain? He’s been allowed to stay for now, but to what end? He can’t bear Cang Qiong’s name, not with Tianlang-jun’s mark, not with his paltry skills, not with the obvious bearing of a demon.”

Luo Binghe had heard that name before, Tianlang-jun. He wondered. He pressed a finger to the mark on his forehead. Was it the ancestor of his struck from the heavens? Or his father, perhaps? His birth mother? Luo Binghe put it to mind to ask Shen Yuan.

“So you’d cast aside a disciple of your peak just like that? For no other fault than his heritage?” Shen Yuan demanded. His voice was so sweet when he grew heated. Luo Binghe wished he could see his face when he spoke like this. “It could be said that I am more of a dark stain on your peak than Binghe. I chose my path, while he was born into it. If anyone should be called evil, it should be me.”

Luo Binghe couldn’t see from his vantage point but there was a quick rustle of fabric, the sound of something insubstantial falling to the ground, the clink of a teacup sat on the table.

“What choice did you have?” Shizun hissed. “You would have died!” Shizun’s indignation was felt in Luo Binghe’s chest. Shizun scoffed. “Besides, what evil thing are you? Every day I live in fear that you will be called to the heavens just on the merit of your pure spirit alone.”

He sounded as if he had already made a plan to storm the heavenly realm and retrieve his ascended brother from their heights. Luo Binghe would join him if it came to that.

“A-Jiu,” Shen Yuan muttered, embarrassed. Luo Binghe wondered if his cheeks were red. He wondered if he’d rolled his eyes. “And what evil has Binghe done? He’s a good boy. He’s bright and strong and such a quick student.” Shen Yuan’s teasing laugh perfumed the air. “It’s almost embarrassing for you how behind his cultivation is seeing how quickly he learns.”

Luo Binghe wanted to bask in every kind word about him that fell from Shen Yuan’s lips. He wanted to swim in the shame Shen Yuan thrust upon his brother to sing Luo Binghe’s praises. He wanted to bathe in that little bout of laughter.

“What business is it of yours how I teach my students?” Shizun demanded.

It needed to be someone’s business. Though, historically, Can Qiong favored the freedom of individual peaks over structured ruling. It was ostensibly Zhangmen-shibo’s job to regulate how peak lords taught their students, but Luo Binghe had yet to see him flex that particular facet of his authority. Perhaps it could be solely blamed on his obvious favoritism of Shen Qingqiu, but one had simply to look towards Bai Zhan peak to see that there were other places where disciples weren’t being taught to the best showing of Cang Qiong’s name. At least students of Qing Jing could reliably read.

“It’s my business,” Shen Yuan insisted. “It’s my business if you banish an innocent student from your peak just for practicing the same cultivation I do. It’s my business if you are such a shitty Shizun that a student becomes powerful feeding on his resentment of you and returns to the sect to tear you limb from limb. It’s my business because we have the same face. What if someone comes for revenge and accidentally gets me instead?” As if anyone could ever make that mistake.

Shen Yuan grew heated as he talked. Luo Binghe knew he was moving his arms in wide gestures, he always did when he was passionate.

“It’s my business,” Shen Yuan said with shuddered breath, “because I wouldn’t be able to stand it to have a cruel man for my brother.”

“Ge,” Shizun said. He only called Shen Yuan this when they were alone.

“No. Listen to me. What would your rejection do to such a vulnerable soul? What could it possibly do but blacken it? Turn Binghe into a vengeful creature? Turn him against the whole sect, the whole human realm? And how could I blame him for it?”

Luo Binghe wanted to be indignant that Shen Yuan thought him capable of such blackening, but he was unfortunately self-aware enough to know that he could have very easily been driven down a path that would end with his Shizun’s death. Luo Binghe was even self-aware enough to recognize that Shizun’s death likely wouldn’t even be where his revenge might have ended.

Ning Yingying came upon him then. When she caught sight of him listening intently, her eager smile turned to exasperated reprimand. She hauled him none-too-gently to his feet and marched him down the path, though she kept quiet so as not to clue the two brothers into the fact that Luo Binghe had been eavesdropping. She was a good Shijie.

“A-Luo,” Ning Yingying scolded as soon as they were far enough from the bamboo house not to be heard. She really was quite fetching when she grew stern. Had Luo Binghe never met Shen Yuan and been so immediately and unshakably infatuated, he might have kissed her now. “I thought I told you to stop eavesdropping. What if Shizun catches you?”

“I can’t help it,” Luo Binghe replied, pleading with his eyes to be let off the hook. She was easy to persuade with a pitiful look, and Luo Binghe had been taking advantage of that fact for years. “I need to know every part of him.” He needed it more than air in his lungs but he knew if he said that aloud, Ning Yingying would smack him.

“This isn’t the way to do it,” Ning Yingying scolded.

Luo Binghe smiled innocently. “Remind me, shijie, who was it that helped you sneak onto Xian Shu when a certain rogue cultivator with the lips and the hands was visiting?”

She had been nearly vibrating with anticipation as Luo Binghe had smuggled her in. She had returned the next morning with stars in her eyes and grass in her hair saying, “Daozhang meditated with me this morning.” Luo Binghe had been unsure if that had been a euphemism until months later when she had confessed that the furthest sexual experience she’d ever had was wandering hands while she and Liu Mingyan had been practicing how to kiss. The image had set him alight when he’d heard it then, but now it just gave him ideas.

“A-Luo, you said you wouldn't bring it up again!” Ning Yingying exclaimed, sounding offended, though she laughed as she shoved him in the arm.

“I’m just reminding you of the fact that I didn’t judge you, then,” Luo Binghe said good-naturedly.

His relationship with Ning Yingying had changed in the past days since Shen Yuan had come to the sect. Where before there were tentative touches and glances, blushing cheeks, embarrassed, awkward conversation, now they had settled into something like true friendship. Luo Binghe liked their new dynamic so much more now that he didn’t even think to mourn the innocent puppy love they’d shared.

Ning Yingying laughed with her full belly, an ugly, endearing thing. “If this is how I was behaving, maybe you should have,” she said.

Despite Ning Yingying’s interference, Luo Binghe still couldn’t help himself.

Sometimes Liu Qingge came to the peak, still filling in for sword lessons while Shizun recovered.

He and Shen Yuan didn’t get along. Which perhaps shouldn’t have been a surprise seeing as the Bai Zhan Peak Lord didn’t get along with Shizun either, but Shen Yuan was much more amiable than Shizun. Luo Binghe had yet to see him fail to charm anyone else, a fact that made Luo Binghe froth at the mouth if he thought about it too long, so many other admirers vying for Shen Yuan’s attention. He was soothed by the fact that he was the only one learning from him, the only one spending nearly all day with him, the only one who shared the same forbidden cultivation with him.

Liu Qingge seemed to be the only person who wasn’t ensnared in the charm of Shen Yuan’s smile, something that filled Luo Binghe with both relief and indignation. He was relieved at one less person slobbering for Shen Yuan’s attention, one less hungry dog to beat back with a stick. At the same time, he was offended on Shen Yuan’s behalf that someone seemed to genuinely not enjoy his company. The relief won out in the end, Liu-Shibo’s pretty face too much of a threat for Luo Binghe to wish he was trying to win Shen Yuan over.

Shen Yuan didn’t seem to mind Liu Qingge’s disdain. Luo Binghe wondered if he often faced derision for his cultivation or if he simply didn’t care about Liu Qingge’s opinion specifically. He muttered unkind things about Liu Qingge under his breath whenever the other man glared at him from across the hills of Qing Jing, and he ignored Liu Qingge whenever he tried to confront him. Luo Binghe was less passive, or, at least, he wanted to be. Shen Yuan just needed to say the word and Luo Binghe would strike the War God down. He would die trying at the very least.

They didn’t speak much the one time Luo Binghe had overheard them. He hadn’t even been eavesdropping this time. Liu Qingge had stalked up to them with his scowling beauty to watch their lesson. His scowl deepened, turning his pretty face into something wrinkled and foul.

“Mu-shixiong said your cultivation is not damaging your mind or spirit,” he uttered, interrupting a spar that was going embarrassingly badly for Luo Binghe. Badly in terms of a spar but exactly as planned for Luo Binghe to end pinned beneath Shen Yuan’s boot.

Shen Yuan paused their spar with a hand signalling Luo Binghe to stop and a longsuffering sigh at the interruption. Luo Binghe wanted to set his teeth into Liu Qingge’s throat for interrupting the time they had together, for putting that annoyed expression on Shen Yuan’s face. Instead, he simply trotted over to fetch Shen Yuan some water for his parched lips. He planned on drinking from the same jug once Shen Yuan’s back was turned so that his lips could press where Shen Yuan’s had been, but he was unsure if he could get away with it with Liu Qingge as witness.

When he returned to Shen Yuan’s side, it was to Liu-shibo curling his lip and placing his hand on the hilt of his sword. Luo Binghe readied himself to protect Shen Yuan even at the cost of his own life.

“I still do not trust it,” Liu Qingge said, his eyebrows drawn low.

Shen Yuan sighed again, though he smiled gently at Luo Binghe as he took the water from his hand. He took a long drink. Luo Binghe watched Liu Qingge watch Shen Yuan drink with the same look Luo Binghe often watched him, and he seethed. Perhaps he did have to worry about him thirsting for Shen Yuan’s attention. Though, if this was the way the man showed affection, there was no real competition there.

Shen Yuan turned dark eyes to Liu Qingge once he’d drunk his fill. A drop of water trembled its way down his chin and Luo Binghe was torn between watching it and making sure Liu Qingge wasn’t watching as well. He handed the jug back to Luo Binghe who cradled it reverently, making note of the side Shen Yuan had put his lips on and laying just thumb just under so that he would remember.

“You don’t have to trust it to leave me alone,” Shen Yuan said finally. “I am here on word of two peak lords. It is out of your hands.”

Liu Qingge scowled and his hand tightened around his sword hilt, but he made no other move than to flush red.

“I will be watching you,” he said, his eyes darting once down Shen Yuan’s form and back up before he turned to Luo Binghe and said, “Be careful around him.”

Luo Binghe wanted to sneer, to bare his teeth like a beast to remind Liu Qingge that he was a demonic thing as well. He wanted to draw his sword and challenge Liu Qingge for Shen Yuan's honor. Unfortunately, the man turned and stormed away before he could.

“That man needs to get a life,” Shen Yuan said under his breath as he watched Liu Qingge stomp down the peak. “Or at least get laid.”

This startled a laugh out of Luo Binghe, and Shen Yuan turned an amused eye towards him.

“Apologies,” Shen Yuan muttered, his face tinging a delightful rose though he was smiling as if he couldn’t help it. “I shouldn’t speak so disrespectfully of your martial family.”

Luo Binghe wanted to tell Shen Yuan that he could speak of Liu Qingge anyway he wished but settled on saying, “You wouldn't be the first to say such about Liu-shibo. I have heard Shizun express similar sentiments.”

Shen Yuan joined him in a laugh so dear and sweet that Luo Binghe wasn’t even disappointed that he’d removed the thumb marking where Shen Yuan’s lips had touched the mouth of the jug. Much. He still planned on pressing his mouth to every part of the rim to make sure his lips found the correct place once he was alone.

Peak Lord Shang was by far the most intriguing to eavesdrop on. He had also by far had the most puzzling reaction to seeing Shen Yuan for the first time.

Luo Binghe was watching the first time Shang Qinghua saw Shen Yuan. He was ever watching so he could catch moments like these. Upon catching sight of Shizun and his brother, standing side by side, the An Ding Peak Lord tilted his head in confusion, brow furrowed, bottom lip pulled between his teeth, as if he was trying to work out a puzzle. Then, as his eyes wandered back to Shen Qingqiu and then returned to Shen Yuan, the puzzlement turned to shock turned to introspection to realization.

He spoke something in a dialect that Luo Binghe didn’t know, just muttered under his breath, barely audible. Shen Yuan, it seemed, heard him clearly. It also seemed as if he understood the dialect Luo Binghe was unfamiliar with because his head whipped in the direction of the An Ding Peak Lord with startling speed, his eyes narrowing to points in the sharpest expression Luo Binghe had ever seen on him. He barked something in the same unfamiliar tongue, tone harsh and accusatory. As much as Luo Binghe despised such a tone on anyone else, he burned to hear more from Shen Yuan.

Shang Qinghua was not so enamored as he jumped like a startled alley cat at Shen Yuan’s words before returning to gaping once more, studdering out more of that unfamiliar dialect that made Shen Yuan turn mean.

Shen Yuan excused himself from the present company and all but marched Shang Qinghua towards the rainbow bridge.

Curious.

Luo Binghe followed them at such a distance at to not be noticed, though he could have probably followed shoulder to shoulder without them knowing seeing as they were caught so deep in their conversation, Shang Qinghua muttering and sweating and laughing nervously, Shen Yuan never letting up his grip on Shang QInghua’s elbow, glaring, seething, looking more like his brother than Luo Binghe had ever seen him.

Luo Binghe didn’t mean to actually eavesdrop on their conversation.

Wait, no he definitely meant to.

Luo Binghe pushed down his guilt at eaves—

Actually, he felt no guilt. What he did feel was a burning curiosity overshadowed by a jealousy that curdled in his chest at how intimately the two men he was spying on spoke. Luo Binghe didn’t catch it all, the two speaking in and out of that dialect Luo Binghe didn’t know, but he understood enough to know Shen Yuan didn’t think very highly of Peak lord Shang, which eased his jealousy into a simmering envy.

“Am I to understand that you are the hack himself, Chicken Flying Toward the Sky?”

Luo Binghe wanted to laugh. What kind of name was that? Did Shang Qinghua really call himself that? Shang Qinghua didn’t protest, so Luo Binghe figured he must.

”What hack? You obviously read my book! I’ve never heard of someone–” Another word from that unfamiliar dialect they’d spoken earlier, “–into a novel they’ve never read. You were a—” unfamiliar word, short and smug, “—admit it.”

“I was an—” another, bit out disdainfully, sounding almost like a curse, “—at best. In fact, I was known for hating the damned thing.”

“There was only one reader who truly hated it, and if you’re them, I may die laughing.”

There was a pause, but before Luo Binghe could continue hiding outside the window, Shizun crested the hill, so he had to scramble to his feet and pretend he’d been doing something other than spying. From the raised eyebrow in his direction he likely had been unsuccessful, but Shizun didn’t confront him for it, too busy barging into the bamboo house to interrupt the strange conversation within.

It was a mere few days later Luo Binghe was finally caught in the act and confronted over it. He had been at his usual place under the window listening to intently. Shizun, disguising his steps like the sneak he was, approached the window Luo Binghe sat under and snatched him by the back of his robes before he could do anything but cry out.

“A-Jiu, really?” Shen Yuan muttered as Luo Binghe was dragged through the window and dropped to the floor. He moved to Luo Binghe’s side and helped him to his feet. “That was completely unnecessary. I could have just called him in.”

“That little sneak would have hidden so he could continue trailing your every move,” Shizun said with disdain. Luo Binghe disagreed. He would have come when Shen Yuan called. Probably. Definitely if he called out for him more than once. “He’s been following you around and eavesdropping since you began teaching him.”

Shen Yuan’s eyes were dazzling even as they turned to scrutiny towards Luo Binghe.

“Binghe, is that true? Have you been eavesdropping?”

Luo Binghe cursed his Shizun for revealing him. He wouldn’t throttle him for Shen Yuan's sake, but he wanted to.

“On occasion, I have followed you.” Every occasion, though he wouldn’t admit to it. “I apologize, I have been curious about you. You are the first demonic cultivator I have met outside of the dream realm, and I wanted to know what you were like when you didn’t know I was observing you.”

When Shen Yuan lifted Luo Binghe up from the bow he had adopted while apologizing, he was rolling his eyes and biting back a smile.

“Ah, there’s been no harm done,” Shen Yuan said, leading Luo Binghe to the table by the elbow. “I have no secrets to hide.”

“There has been harm,” Shizin said with a sneer. “Him following you around like a lost puppy is affecting my reputation by proxy. I may foist him onto another peak. Auction him off as a demonic curio just to avoid this pitiful show.”

Shen Yuan made eye contact with Luo Binghe and Luo Binghe could almost hear him snidely commenting on how easy Shizun could be worked into a snit.

“In fact, there is much to discuss on the topic of Luo Binghe on this peak.” Luo Binghe’s heart sank at Shizun’s words. He had anticipated and dreaded this moment. “It has been decided amongst the peak lords that Luo Binghe may remain a disciple if he agrees to only continue cultivating the righteous path. If he is found guilty of further practicing demonic cultivation on the peak, he will be banished from Cang Qiong.”

This was what Luo Binghe had been waiting for. He knew something like this was coming. This seemed like a concession, a simple compromise, but Luo Binghe could no sooner stop using demonic cultivation than he could stop breathing. It was in his blood, it hovered in his lungs, it made up pieces of him that he could not live without.

Before he could lose himself to despair, Shen Yuan reached out to take his hand. Luo Binghe still grieved even as he squeezed back and savored the warm palm against his.

“But A-Jiu, he needs to learn more about his demonic side,” Shen Yuan pleaded. “How else will he learn how to control it? It’s your peak, can’t you negotiate?”

“This was me negotiating. I barely was able to keep your welcome valid and you aren’t even a disciple.”

Luo Binghe was glad, at least, that Shen Yuan had been fought for as well, perhaps even fought for harder if Luo Binghe knew his Shizun at all. Shen Yuan deserved to be welcome here, even if Luo Binghe lost the same privilege.

“You could have done more!” Shen Yuan exclaimed, hand squeezing Luo Binghe’s so tightly it hurt. This was a comforting pain. “He’s your disciple.”

 

“It has been decided. It is out of my hands as long as I want to stay a peak lord here.

Silence descended upon the bamboo house. Luo Binghe swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. This was more than he could have anticipated: not being kicked from the sect immediately, a conditional allowance to remain a disciple, someone who stood in his corner to argue his cause. He would cherish this memory even as he grew to hate Cang Qiong for forcing him to leave.

Then, Shen Yuan took Luo Binghe’s hand in both of his own and took a determined breath.

“Fine,” he said in a steely voice. Both Luo Binghe and Shizun turned to face him. “Fine. If Luo Binghe is to be treated as a lesser disciple, if he is to be made to either leave or bury a part of him that needs to be nurtured, then I guess there’s only one option.”

Shizun darted his eyes between Luo Binghe and Shen Yuan. Luo Binghe could see resignation dawning on his face. Shen Yuan’s determination only solidified.

“I’m listening,” Shizun sighed.

“If Binghe wishes, he may travel with me when I leave the peak so that I can continue teaching him.”

Luo Binghe’s heart sang and then, as Shen Yuan turned to him with his next offer, became a whole host of joyous cacophony.

“Binghe, would you have any desire to accompany this humble demonic cultivator into the Eternal Abyss? I have desired to travel there for many years. There are many fascinating creatures there that I desire to study, and it would be the perfect training ground for you to master your demonic side.”

Luo Binghe spent just a fraction of a moment imagining himself and Shen Yuan traveling together, no one else around, sleeping next to one another, taking meals together, fighting monsters, huddling for warmth when the nights grew cold, seeking comfort in one another’s embrace, pressing lips to—

“Ah, of course you shouldn’t feel obligated if the idea is unappealing,” Shen Yuan said, interrupting Luo Binghe’s fantasy. “It was only the passing idea that the journey might assist you in mastering your cultivation.”

”This lowly disciple would be honored,” Luo Binghe said, bowing low to hide his giddy smile.

He had already been banned from the immortal alliance conference so what other way did he have to prove himself to Shen Yuan?

“Oh, don’t bow to me,” Shen Yuan said, flustered as he pulled Luo Binghe up by the shoulders. “If we’re to be traveling together, you should at the very least view us as equals, though I do not doubt that your skills may soon outmatch my own.”

Luo Binghe’s heart thrilled. If he was to consider them equals, then perhaps Shen Yuan no longer viewed him as a child.

”One day we’ll be so close that you'll call me Shen-shu.”

Luo Binghe clenched his teeth to hold in a scoff.

”I would never presume.”

If Luo Binghe ever called Shen Yuan anything other than his name, it would be Zhangfu.

Notes:

First i though airplane might be a loan word from english but when i looked it up it definitely wasn’t so i went with homonyms for the words in airplane that lbh would know idk if chinese actually works like that so if it doesn’t make sense let me know!

Sometimes i miss old ff.net days where folks interrupted the text to have asides with characters bc i have so many fun things ot add in as i write byut theyre all relegated to the end notes these days

Nyy: stop stalking him that’s freak behavior
Mm: all this stalking is weak, sleep under his bed
Lbh: so what im doing is a normal middle ground

Meng mo that night in the dream realm: wow kid, youve known him for 2 days how long have i been your teacher? And you dont dream about sewing our hands together so that we cant let go
Lbh: swim team nothing i want that boy to be my bride!

One thing i didnt anticipate from this fandom was the fact that naming things is so fun bc i just think of the most ridiculous thing i can think of and its canonically how airplane names things

Also yes i do come up with lore for all the creatures and plants i name drop if yall want me to put that in the end notes lmk and ill start bc some of them are fun ideas
In this chapter i mentioned:

[1] Lilting First-Blood Egret–a cry from this bird enthralls the hearer until a drop of their blood is spilled, the enthralled individual is drawn to the nearest body of water where they drown themselves for the egret to feast on (wifeplot involving a river nymph who couldn’t bear to let a beautiful face like that be drowned in the river so she battles with lbh who can still fight under the spell and she dies just after managing to nick his wrist until a drop of blood fell. This issnt even the main plot thats about bingge finding a way to bring her back to life to repay her saving him. Yes he does end up marrying a different woman who he encountered during the quest.) ^[return]

[2] Twice-cursed Heartache Blossom–smelling the pollen from this flower produces a curse of feeling the greatest heartache of the first person you touch. You do not know what caused the heartache, but you can feel it (maybe a liu mingyan story where bingge feels her sorrow and commiserates with her after airplane got too many complaints that he was neglecting the first wives or maybe a new future wife who is stoic and refuses to act like she cares about anything until bingge has to experience her grief firsthand or wait no maybe a woman who is cold to bingge and thinks him heartless until she inhales the pollen and feels his suffering and falls for him after idk maybe i should be airplane and write my own harem novel)’ ^[return]

Since we dont hve sqq internal monologuie i wanted him to just randomly mention the creatures bc he knows them i also think that these creatures are antive to this world so it wouldnt need more explanation to just drop their names most of the time

This story will be light on action i despise writing fight scenes so expect vague descriptions and fade to blacks if anything sorry 😘

thanks for reading see y'all next chapter!

Tell me what you think!

Chapter 4

Notes:

Shen Qingqiu’s POV

Trigger warning: mention of child abuse and very very brief, blink and you miss it mention of sexual assault from shen brother’s past

Sorry this chapter took so long. For some reason it took me a while to get back into sqq’s mind after writing lbh’s pov. Lbh just didn;t want to stop taking about his shen yuan or didnt want anyone else talking about his shen yuan from their povi guess

Chapter count increased again because i had to split this chapter into 2 parts because it got away from me and i expect that to happen at least 1 more time so ive put the expected number at 9 but that may increase again we’ll see

Also how do yall feel about shen yuan not being called shizun in this? Im on the fence and part of me wants to go back and change it, but also my reasoning in this is that lbh has been with shen jiu longer in this au than in canon since hes 17 here instead of 14 so sj has been solidified as his shizun and he doesnt want to taint sy by calling him the same as his scum teacher but also i think sy particularly didnt want to be called shizun bc hes trying to avoid death flags both by not ending up the shizun that gets ripped limb from libm, or if he’s successful in changing the story, not being a kindly mentor figure that gets offed to motivate and add angst to the protagonist’s backstory hes thinking maybe ill just be a pal who helps him along the way with no real attachment to him so that i dont die for plot related reasons

(edit: if i get any rude comments on this fic i will delete them immediately i don’t even read them all the way through so don’t waste your time. the dislike button for fanfic is the exit page button. i do this for fun and for free and i do not owe you a story that aligns perfectly with your headcanons. if you have better ideas write them. don’t leave entitled comments on people’s fics)

“No.”

“But A-Jiu!”

”Absolutely not.”

Shen Qingqiu had lost count of how many times he and his brother had had this same conversation in their lives. It sometimes felt as if they’d exited their good-for-nothing mother’s womb spouting this very same argument. Shen Qingqiu doubted they’d ever spent more than two consecutive days together without saying those same words back and forth. Not over the same subject, of course, this was certainly a new one, but the same script of Shen Yuan deciding to do something ridiculous and Shen Qingqiu having to shut it down immediately before Shen Yuan became determined.

A determined Shen Yuan was more than any mortal or immortal could dissuade. Both Shen Qingqiu and his brother possessed a quick tongue and quicker wit, but, where Shen Qingqiu used his for good, for cutting down idiocy and righting wrongs, teaching students and correcting mistakes, Shen Yuan used his for the sole purpose of getting his way, of winning arguments, of wheedling out of ever admitting wrongdoing. Shen Qingqiu admired this trait only when it wasn’t aimed at him.

“A-Jiu,” Shen Yuan started, his eyes wide in that way of false innocence he had used to wheedle the highly-coveted and seldom-obtained burnt castaways from food stalls when they’d been on the street.

“No,” Shen Qingqiu interrupted. If he allowed Shen Yuan a foothold, the battle would be already lost. “I will not hear any argument to the contrary. You will not be entering the Endless Abyss, known for its inescapability and unparalleled peril. You certainly will not be doing so accompanied by my worst student who has just revealed himself to be a demon and in doing so also betrayed himself as either a liar or a fool.”

Shen Qingqiu had dismissed his horrid little disciple the moment he’d realized Shen Yuan hadn’t been offering to take Luo Binghe into the Abyss as a bluff to manipulate Shen Qingqiu into giving in and allowing the boy to stay on his peak despite the decision from the rest of the Peak Lords. If given the chance, Shen Qingqiu would kick Luo Binghe from the peak simply for the way that beast looked at his brother, as if he were a delicacy on a platter, as if Shen Yuan had been the one to paint the sunrise and hang the stars in the sky, as if Shen Qingqiu would ever allow Luo Binghe to get filthy hands anywhere near his brother.

Shen Yuan, oblivious as always to the men who slobbered after him and the lengths his longsuffering brother went to beat them back, sat at the table, teacup in hand, relaxed as if he’d already convinced Shen Qingqiu to let him go. This was, of course, done to rankle Shen Qingqiu’s temper. For someone who was raised rough, who had been sold by his parents and forced to work for slavers and then cruel masters, nearly dying from misuse and abuse, Shen Yuan sometimes behaved like a spoiled child, expecting to get his way, entitled to be a brat. Shen Qingqiu would blame himself for coddling him, but he had a feeling Shen Yuan was just born expecting to get his way, expecting for his way to effortlessly be allowed.

Shen Qingqiu didn’t enjoy thinking back on the family. He actively avoided it, in fact. He had told Shen Yuan that he didn’t even remember their family, though this had been a lie. He knew Shen Yuan didn’t remember them, unless he was lying as well.

Twins like them were bad luck, typically. They were a burden on their mother, a liability waiting to die, something that Shen Yuan had apparently took to heart and tried his hardest to do. By some miracle, they had both survived infancy, but every winter lived had been another winter of Shen Qingqiu spending countless days at his brother’s side, hoping each labored breath wouldn’t be his last.

His parents hadn’t cared if Shen Yuan lived or died, tired of the burden of a sick child.

“Quit that racket,” their father would grouse when Shen Yuan was caught in a fit of coughs or delirious fevers.

Their mother would eye Shen Yuan as if he were a Yellow-beaked Scalp Slug^[1] slipping under their door. “Keep your brother away from the baby,” she’d say, never so much as wiping the sweat from her suffering child’s brow or holding his hand as he ached with fever. “He’ll just get him sick.

The only clear memory he had of their parents, of their life before, was of being very small but feeling like the whole world had been upon his tiny shoulders. He remembered staying up all night holding Shen Yuan’s hand, praying to ancestors he didn’t have the names for, deities he didn’t know how to pray to, praying to the guanyin’s smiling face he’d seen people bow to in town. Shen Yuan had been sick more than not. Each time, Shen Qingqiu had prayed; each time, Shen Yuan had woken up. Shen Qingqiu had never believed someone, some higher power, had intervened, even though he prayed. He had believed it was his own determination that his brother not die that saved him. The prayers had brought his brother through not because of who was prayed to but because of who was praying, the fact that he prayed at all.

“I can’t have him getting the young ones sick,” their mother had spoken, not even bothering to keep her voice down. “We’ll have no sons left at this rate.”

Shen Qingqiu was sure he had loved their mother at some point, but he had no memory of it.

“Hopefully, he’ll die this time, and we won’t have to worry anymore.”

He wasn’t sure he’d ever loved their father.

“And if he doesn’t? There was a plague in the Tai village last winter, if he catches something like that and brings it home, it would be our ruin. I won’t go dying on the slim hope he’ll live to grow stronger.”

In the following silence, Shen Qingqiu had prayed. Not for Shen Yuan, just for a moment, but for his parents, for that plague to come and take them, for them to experience half of the turmoil Shen Qiungiu had felt sitting in the dirt as his brother wheezed and burned with fever.

“We could sell him?”

“Who would buy a sick thing like that?”

“We wait until he’s well and sell him then.”

Shen Qingqiu didn’t remember leaving Shen Yuan’s room to barge into his parent’s conversation, but he remembered the fury that had led his steps.

“No.”

When you sold something it went away forever, Shen Qingqiu had been little, but he had still known that. They had sold their chickens in town and they never came back. If Shen Yuan was sold, he would be gone, Shen Qingqiu had been sure.

“You have no say in this, boy,” snarled their father.

Shen Qingqiu couldn’t remember what either of his parents had looked like. Likely, if he passed them on the street tomorrow, he wouldn’t realize it unless they looked exceedingly like him and his brother. He remembered that they had been angry often, though, and that his father hadn’t taken much prompting to hit.

“If he goes, I will follow him,” Shen Qingqiu had said, and when they hadn’t reacted other than to stare at him disdainfully, continued, desperate, “I will take all your money and spend it on tanghulu. I will tell the town that you steal chickens, I will–” He tried to think of any other bad things he knew.

His father had struck him across the face, not an uncommon occurrence, but something that still frightened him every time it happened.

“Unfilial cur. You and your useless brother both should have died in your mother’s belly.”

Shen Qingqiu had trembled as he’d held his stinging face, watching as his mother had put a hand on his father’s arm. Shen Qingqiu could remember feeling something like envy at the sight of that gentleness that was withheld from him.

“We might get more to sell them as a set,” she had said thoughtfully.

Shen Qingqiu hadn’t remembered the rest of the night. Shen Yuan had recovered, of course, had survived the winter, lived long enough to watch their father accept coins in place of his sons. Shen Yuan hadn’t wept like Shen Qingqiu had assumed he would, but, then again, that last sickness had changed Shen Yuan. The fever had burned hotter than any before it, and it had almost seemed as if their parent’s wish that he die was going to be granted. Just at its worst, however, when Shen Yuan’s wheezing breaths had grown thin and distant, he took a turn for the better, waking as if he’d never been sick, fever breaking in what seemed to be an instant. The fever had burned hot enough to tear through Shen Yuan’s memories, to make him question where he was and who Shen Qingqiu was, but he had lived.

Shen Qingqiu also hadn’t cried when they were sold, but he’d had his brother. What else did he need?

Looking back now, Shen Qingqiu could picture clearly how few coins had been exchanged, how they had fit so neatly in the cup of his father’s eager palm. He almost definitely had more money in his petty coin purse used for acquiring trinkets at the marketplace now than his father had received then. He seethed to think that, ostensibly, one could purchase a child with such a piddly amount, that one could purchase two. He hoped, as he always did anytime a stray thought of his birth parents crossed his mind, that his parents were dead.

At times he had considered trying to find that village, though its name had escaped him over the years, just like his own birth name, like Shen Yuan’s. He had considered finding that place if only to see what had become of his family, to see if his younger siblings had survived or been sold as well, to spit in his father’s face and curse his mother.

Shen Yuan took a sip of his tea, brewed to perfection.

When Shen Qingqiu was at odds with Yue Qingyuan, he always made sure to scorch the leaves just to watch the man try to hide his displeasure. He had used to do so to Shen Yuan as well, but it had been so long since he’d seen him, and who knew what kind of swill he was getting from the seedy teahouses where he spent his time. Shen Qingqiu felt a swell of satisfaction when his brother paused for a moment to savor his mouthful.

He almost regretted his soft heart keeping him from ruining Shen Yuan’s tea when his brother put the cup down to say, “Well then, if you, as Luo Binghe’s Shizun, withhold permission for him to accompany me, I have no choice.” At Shen Yuan’s self-satisfied little smirk in his direction, Shen Qingqiu readied his fan to hurl at his brother, because he just knew the next words were going to spark against the dry timber of his anger. “I will just have to make the journey by myself and with no one to accompany me, probably die trampled under the hooves of the Bear-faced Plague Sheep^[2].” He blinked victoriously up at Shen Qingqiu. “My last words will be, A-Jiu this is your fault.”

Shen Yuan grinned like this was a fatal blow, but when Shen Qingqiu said nothing, too angry to unclench any of his muscles, he faltered for a moment before doubling down.

“I said–”

Shen Yuan had always been necessarily proficient at dodging projectiles, but it seemed he was out of practice. He barely had time to draw his arms up to cover his face before Shen Qingqiu’s fan made contact. Shen Qingqiu hoped it bruised.

“Get out of my house!” Shen Qingqiu bellowed, beyond enraged. How dare his stupid, arrogant brother look at him like that? “Get out and never come back again! Go die for all I care, get trampled and maybe your last thoughts will be, I should have listened to my brother.”

“I’m taking your dismissal as permission,” Shen Yuan said, standing, in no hurry to leave until Shen Qingqiu snatched up his guqin and threatened to throw it as well. He scrambled for the door, then, calling over his shoulder, “I’ll be back when you’ve calmed down.”

“Then you’ll never be back!” Shen Qingqiu snarled, already feeling ashamed for losing his temper but still too angry to back down.

As soon as Shen Yuan was out the door, Shen Qingqiu placed his guqin back in its place before he actually did throw it and then grabbed a tapestry from the wall to hurl instead. Then a second one when he still couldn't see straight through his shouting anger.

He paced the length of the bamboo house twenty times and then threw a vase along with the beautifully-arranged orchid in it. He hoped throwing something that shattered would soothe him. It did not.

“Shizun?” A voice called from the doorway.

For a moment, he thought it was the little beast, delivering himself on a platter for Shen Qingqiu to rip to shreds in his rage. After a breath, Shen Qingqiu recognized the voice as Ming Fan.

“I heard a crash, are you alright?” Ming Fan didn’t enter, clever boy, but Shen Qingqiu was still vexed at having his tantrum interrupted.

There was only one thing that could possibly calm Shen Qingqiu down when he grew so angry, so he smoothed his hair away from his face, cracked the door, and spoke, “Ming Fan, send for Sect Leader Yue. I require his urgent counsel.”

Ming Fan nodded respectfully, scurrying off to do as told. He perhaps wasn’t the most talented of Shen Qingqiu’s students nor the most clever nor the strongest, but he was diligent and reliable. Shen Qingqiu needed that now more than ever.

Yue Qingyuan answered his summons immediately, as he always did, ever obedient and indulgent. Shen Qingqiu always felt a fluttering in his chest that he was helpless to quell every time Yue Qingyuan dropped everything to be at his side.

Yue Qingyuan with his broad smile and gentle hands, his strong jaw and sharp cheekbones, his towering height and wide shoulders, favored him undoubtedly, unconditionally. Shen Qingqiu would read too much into it if he didn’t also do the same for Shen Yuan.

One glance upon Yue Qingyuan’s face and Shen Qingqiu’s rage was doused to embers, left to simmer in the back of his mind.

“I can’t seem to convince him,” Shen Qingqiu muttered, shoulders untensing once he was not alone to handle the mercurial storm that was his brother’s strong will. “It’s your turn.”

Yue Qingyuan had always been a better hand at corralling Shen Yuan because, for some reason, his brother had always seemed to respond better to ease than resistance. When someone challenged him, he pushed back, no matter who was right, no matter if he’d been convinced. But a soft suggestion unforced, offered with no expectations could coax him like anything. How had Shen Qingqiu been born with a brother who could be coaxed by gentle words? What a disgrace.

“We both know he is unlikely to change his mind. He seems,” Yue Qingyuan paused to search for the word, landing on, “determined. A determined Xiao-Yuan isn’t often dissuaded, even by me.”

Shen Qingqiu ignored that slight to his own ability to talk his brother down only because he had invited Yue Qingyuan here specifically for his superior Yuan-wrangling skills. He did, however, put it in mind to brew the tea poorly when the time came.

“Scaring him out of it didn't work. He needs… a gentle hand.” Shen Qingqiu could feel a sneer on his face when he said the words, but he couldn’t help it. “Your gentle hand.”

Yue Qingyuan made the same face he had always made when he agreed to do something he didn’t think would work. He had made the same face when Shen Qingqiu and his brother had made a plan to escape from their enslavers, he had made the same face when Shen Qingqiu would come up with schemes to scam rich wives of their money. He had made that face when Shen Qingqiu had put in mind to try and find Shen Yuan a place in Cang Qiong before he’d realized his brother’s cultivation made that truly impossible.

“I will try,” Yue Qingyuan said, “but I don’t want you angry with me if I am unable to succeed.”

“Don’t you sit here and talk yourself into failure.”

He didn’t deny that he would be angry at Yue Qingyuan for failing. He had been getting angry at Yue Qingyuan for similar reasons since they’d met.

“Ah, but what if Xiao-Yuan becomes angry with me? You are his brother, of course he will forgive you, but what if I push him too far?”

Shen Qingqiu rolled his eyes. As if Shen Yuan didn’t hold Yue Qingyuan as closely in his heart as Shen Qingqiu. They were a trio, the three of them. Inseparable.

Though, Shen Qingqiu wasn’t surprised to hear this counter from Yue Qingyuan. Since they were little Yue Qingyuan had always tried to get either Shen Qingqiu or his brother to do his dirty work. He never said it outright but he always tried to make it seem like any disagreement came from only the two brothers and that he was a peaceful mediator. He couldn’t stand it when one or both were angry with him. It shut him down, made him avoid the confrontation altogether.

Shen Qingqiu wasn’t going to let him off this time.

When Yue Qingyuan left with a twisted mouth from his last cupful of over-steeped tea, Shen Qingqiu didn’t even try to stop himself from wistfully staring at his broad shoulders as he went. He would be solid and warm were Shen Qingqiu to unravel his pride enough to wrap his arms around him. Yue Qingyuan, he just knew, would wrap his arms around him in return, engulfing him in that same warmth.

When they were young, Yue Qingyuan had always smelled like a dirty boy, sweat and mud and unwashed clothes. They all had smelled much the same. Now, Yue Qingyuan smelled of incense and tea, of dark wood and the pines on his peak, occasionally, of sweet nectars, particularly lotus. Shen Qingqiu always burned dark when Yue Qingyuan perfumed himself like lotus flowers.

When they had still been disciples, close to becoming peak lords, but not quite there, Shen Qingqiu and Yue Qingyuan had made their way down the mountain to attend a festival with Shen Yuan. At their leisure, they stopped at many stalls for trinkets and accessories and food, their meager purses growing lighter by the hour One stall had sold perfumes.

Shen Yuan had wrinkled his nose when Shen Qingqiu had stopped to sample some.

“The jiejies at the pavilion are always trying to douse me in their perfumes,” he had said. He did, in fact, smell like a perfumed brothel woman currently, though it wasn’t unpleasant.

Shen Qingqiu’s Shizun had always discouraged strong scents other than incense. He had reasoned that strong smells were distracting to serenity, though Shen Qingqiu thought the man simply had a sensitive nose.

“This one is lovely,” Shen Qingqiu had commented taking a whiff of a simple, yet elegant, bottle. He hadn’t the funds to purchase it, but he still liked the scent. It was soft and serene.

Yue Qingyuan had then shown up smelling of the very same fragrance the next time he visited Shen Qingqiu. Shen Qingqiu had complemented it then, and from then on, even though it had been years, Yue Qingyuan still favored lotus. He never smelled like that during peak lord meetings or when he was called away from business. That scent, as far as Shen Qingqiu could tell, was reserved for when Yue Qingyuan was anticipating a visit from him, a thought that consumed Shen Qingqiu until it kept him awake at night.

Shen Yuan returned that evening with a sheepish Yue Qingyuan in tow. Yue Qingyuan smelled like guilt.

Shen Qingqiu almost barred them entry. He knew by the look on Yue Qingyuan’s face, he had caved and pretended he was never against Shen Yuan’s going in the first place. The man was a talented diplomat, strong and steady, adept at smoothing conflict and arranging compromise. This, he could do for the sect without cowering, without compromising his morals. He was a stone wall against mighty sects and wet paper between the Shen brothers’ anger. It had always been so. His diplomacy went out the window right along with his spine when they fought. Yue Qingyuan always sided with whomever he felt he had the best chance at winning the overall disagreement.

This did not bode well.

“Trying to get Qi-ge to do your dirty work, A-Jiu?” Shen Yuan asked, shouldering past the barely-opened door. He looked around at the table, likely hoping to find the candied fruits that he had barely gotten to indulge in earlier. Shen Qingqiu felt victory at his brother’s betrayed look when he realized they had been thrown out.

They sat at the table, Shen Qingqiu on one side, Shen Yuan at the other. Yue Qingyuan remained standing.

“More like trying to get Yue Qingyuan to not turn over and expose his belly,” Shen Qingqiu directed this at Yue Qingyuan. “That, it seems, is a battle not yet to be won.”

Yue Qingyuan ducked his head in shame but had nothing to say for himself.

“Don’t call him a coward,” Shen Yuan said. He kept his straight posture. He didn’t slouch until he thought an argument won. “Besides, Qi-ge truly doesn’t mind if I go, he was just trying to keep you from yelling at him. If anything, he was showing his belly to you in order to avoid you—,” he glanced around the room, which was still in disarray, “—throwing your wall tapestries at him?”

Shen Qingqiu didn’t deign to acknowledge the incredulous judgement in Shen Yuan’s tone.

“Zhangmen-shixiong told you he doesn’t mind, did he?”

Yue Qingyuan shrunk further under Shen Qingqiu’s glare, and any sweet thoughts he’d had about his shoulders were now replaced with disdain. How could such a coward really rule a sect?

“No, but it was obvious.”

Yue Qingyuan finally joined the table at the narrow side where no cushion lay, and said to Shen Qingqiu in that grating, placating tone of his, “Have confidence in your brother’s skills.” He spoke genty as if he was trying to soothe a horse. How infuriating. Though, playing on Shen Qingqiu’s pride by complementing his brother was a good start. It woudln’t work, but it was smart. Yue Qingyuan, however, ruined it by continuing, “besides, he’ll have Luo-Shizhi with him, a disciple trained under your own hand, Xiao-Jiu.”

“Do not call me that,” Shen Qingqiu hissed. “Get up. Get out of my house.”

Yue Qingyuan didn’t even glance over his shoulder on the way out, likely glad for the escape. Shen Qingqiu would deal with him later.

How dare he mention that beast?

Shen Qingqiu had been trying his best not to think of his horrid little disciple since the whole fiasco where he had threatened to make a fool of Shen Qingqiu in plain view of his whole peak by revealing himself as a demon. And then, as if he wasn’t already a topic of conversation with his brother teaching him, Luo Binghe, the little weasel, had followed his brother for days without Shen Yuan being any the wiser, threatening to make a fool of Shen Qingqiu again by proxy. It had also made Shen Qingqiu wonder after his brother’s safety, worry deepening the longer it had dragged out. Part of Shen Qingqiu had wondered whether his brother had known and thought it endearing of his new little disciple, but Shen Qingqiu wasn’t certain, and he wasn’t going to give Shen Yuan the out to not seem a fool if he hadn’t actually known.

The only upside to the, frankly, disturbing stalking Luo Binghe had made a habit of, was that it showed his willingness to keep an eye on Shen Yuan, which would be a skill much needed. Not that his brother was a helpless duckling when left to his own devices, a babe in the woods, a damsel from one of his trashy novels Shen Qingqiu always tried to tune out when Shen Yuan ranted about them. No, he was well capable of defending himself, needs must. The problem was, Shen Yuan had a habit of wandering off and becoming separated from whomever he was accompanying.

This annoying habit was a holdover from their youth, a habit that had nearly driven both Shen Qingqiu and Yue Qingyuan mad more than once, dashing through alleyways and peeking into shops and houses in search of Shen Yuan who had always inevitably laughed it off with a “you were right behind me, weren’t you?” or, on occasions where he’d gotten himself into trouble, “I knew you’d come to the rescue if I really needed it”.

Shen Qingqiu still suffered the occasional sleepless night wondering if his brother had gotten himself into some scrape that Shen Qingqiu wasn’t around to help with anymore. His most recurring nightmare, other than Qiu Jianluo’s grasping hands, was chasing after his brother as he rounded corner after corner into endless alleyway after endless alleyway in search of trouble, just out of reach.

The brothers stared at each other across the table for long minutes, neither speaking. Shen Qingqiu filled with rage and calmed again in ebbing waves in the quiet. Shen Yuan was the one who broke the silence, heaving a big sigh before reaching across the table to take Shen Qingqiu’s hand. His hand was cold, as per usual, but it was familiar and calming.

“A-Jiu,” Shen Yuan said, finally, his voice gentle and placating, somehow less patrinizing than Yue Qingyuan’s soft tone. “I know you’re just worried about me. I worry about you too, and you're safe here on this mountain surrounded by other cultivators and under Qi-ge’s protection, but I’m not a helpless child. You may not like it, but I am going to be alright. I have travelled to dangerous places before.”

“Not to the abyss,” Shen Qingqiu seethed, though his voice threatened to break.

He knew he was going to lose this argument. Shen Yuan was going to go into the Endless Abyss with a slavering, lying demonic beast at his back to observe the many foul and dangerous creatures that inhabited its depths. Shen Qingqiu was going to be left to fret after his safety for the months, perhaps years, he was gone. It was already agony.

“If I didn’t know this was coming from a place of concern, I would be deeply offended that you have so much doubt in my skill.”

Shen Yuan’s easy smile usually calmed Shen Qingqiu’d fretfull mood, but it was only making him want to cling to him harder.

“It’s not your skill I doubt,” Shen Qingqiu said. This was true, he trusted his brother’s skill and his knowledge. “it’s the unknown. No one has ever–” It ached to think about.

“But I will have a heavenly demon at my side. Even if you have doubts, I trust that if I fail, Binghe will be there at my side to protect me. We have already discovered that we work well as a pair, even with his failed instruction.”

Shen Qingqiu sniffed indignantly, though in the face of his brother’s chiding, he was ashamed.

“You should attend a training session with us, and observe his skill for yourself. In the short time I’ve been here, he has nearly reached a fully-realized disciple’s skill with the blade. I wasn’t just trying to goad you when I told you that he learns so quickly it speaks badly of your tutelage. He’s really a prodigy.” At Shen Qingqiu wrinkled his lip, Shen Yuan continued with a pointed look. “That’s probably why you hate him so much. You despise anyone who succeeds without struggle.”

Shen Yuan was the only person in the whole world who was allowed to call out Shen Qingqiu’s flaws, but it still rankled.

“Any achievement without struggle is worthless,” Shen Qingqiu said weakly.

Shen Yuan was quiet for a long moment. He adjusted his position, relaxing his posture and fiddling with his collar He was about to say something that would either get on Shen Qingqiu’s nerves or put him on the defensive, Shen Qingqiu could tell.

“Causing others strife,” Shen Yuan finally said, slowly, “will not repair the turmoil of your youth.”

Shen Qingqiu wanted to curl his lip and stand from the table in a rage, he wanted to fight, he wanted to cry.

He settled on replying, “It repairs my bad mood.”

Though that was a lie. Nothing ever repaired his bad mood. Sometimes it felt like he had been born sour and he would remain so until he died.

“Maybe you should find something else to keep your mood up than seeing children suffer,” Shen Yuan suggested. He squeezed Shen Qingqiu’s hand in his hold and continued, “I told you before I couldn’t stand to call a cruel man my brother and I mean that. I love you and I admire the way you have thrived despite our struggles, but I will not abide by you making others struggle as a revenge against those who will never feel the retaliation.”

Desperate to change the subject away from his own moral failings, Shen Qingqiu said, “You may go. You and the little beast.”

Shen Yuan brightened into a sunny grin even as he reprimanded, “Don’t call him that. We talked about this.”

“However,” Shen Qingqiu interjected, not even dimming Shen Yuan’s self-satisfied glee. “You will be doing research on the Abyss before I will allow you off the peak. In addition, the beast’s cultivation skills will need to gain the approval of Peak Lord Liu before he is allowed to accompany you.”

“I know you’re just trying to delay my leaving, but I wasn’t exaggerating about Binghe’s skill. In fact, I am beginning to suspect that that boy has been throwing spars on occasion to save my ego, though I’ve told him he doesn’t have to.”

“Nevertheless, you will spend every minute you are not training my disciple in the library, learning everything you can about the creatures that reside in the Abyss.”

Shen Yuan agreed without complaint, but Shen Qingqiu assumed he agreed because he thought he could wheedle his way out of it.

Fat chance.

The abyss wasn’t well studied, one of the reasons Shen Yuan wanted to explore there, but Shen Qingqiu wasn’t going to let his brother go there unprepared. There may not have been much known about the Abyss, but creatures had been escaping from rifts since before cultivators discovered where they were coming from.

“Ugh, homework?” Shen Yuan groaned that afternoon after Shen Qingqiu dropped a stack of tomes on the table so high that they threatened to tip right over. “This is the whole reason I didn’t join a sect in the first place.”

“Not the fact that your very cultivation technique is an abomination?” Shen Qingqiu asked, settling himself at his guqin to play. He had been at a mental block composing since his illness, but he was newly invigorated, mind overflowing with melody. He was nearly done with this one. He always showed new compositions to Qi-ge before debuting them, and they always made him cry the first time he heard them. It had been too long since Shen Qingqiu had seen the man weep. It would, of course, have to wait until he was no longer so furious with the man, but he had time. The piece wasn’t done yet.

“I’m sure we could have worked something out if it weren’t for all the reading,” Shen Yuan groaned as he slumped over inelegantly.

Shen Qingqiu had the urge to make him kneel with bare knees on the rough stone in front of the training grounds like he did his students when they behaved the same way. A lash or two wouldn’t go amiss either on his brother's unruly back, either, but Shen Qingqiu wouldn’t dare raise his hand against his brother in such a way, and anyone else who did would meet the sharpened edge of Xiu Ya.

“I thought you liked reading?”

When they had been children on the street literacy had been both a boon and a liability, and Shen Yuan had learned to read young, seemingly out of nowhere.

“I like reading when I get to choose the book.” Shen Yuan sat up and grabbed the book off the top. He riffled through the pages before tossing it to the side to grab another. “What I don’t like when others decide for me!”

Shen Qingqiu decided not to take this as a direct insult as the one who had chosen all these books for Shen Yuan. Besides, he knew how to read between the lines of what Shen Yuan was complaining about.

“You mean you read trash, and you’re mad it’s not a porny love story in front of you instead of scholarly text.”

Shen Yuan spluttered, but his lack of retort said everything.

“I simply prefer to get my information first hand,” Shen Yuan huffed, sticking his nose into the book in his hands titled ‘A Treatise on Aphrodisiac Berries: Why their benefits to qi outweigh their detriment to cultivation purity’. Shen Qingqiu had read it. It was a blatant apologetic on why those cultivating an abstinence path should not be looked down on for indulging, written by a cultivator who had almost definitely strayed from said path and was seeking justification. While the author’s intentions left much to be desired, the information on the flora it contained was detailed and vast. “What book can tell me more than witnessing it myself?”

Shen Yuan had always been like that. It had caused no end of strife and worry for Shen Qingqiu. If he hadn’t cultivated to immortality he would likely have a head full of grey hairs by now. He wasn’t convinced that Shen Yuan’s flippant disregard for his own safety wouldn’t drive him to age despite his cultivation.

As he read, Shen Yuan sat at the table eating snacks provided by that little beast. The boy was not allowed in the house by Shen Qingqiu, so the handmade treats were delivered by Ning Yingying’s beaming smile that more often than not came bearing crumbs of a secreted sweet. Shen Qingqiu would scold her for her mess, but he was too proud of her conning her shidi by stealing from the treats he had no doubt made to be tasted by Shen Yuan only. Shen Qingqiu himself would never deign to let one such treat pass his own lips, too aware of the dirty hands that had made them. He was not tempted no matter how many delighted noises his brother made while he snacked.

Fed and comfortable, Shen Yuan still grumbled his way through the readings until he found a tome that interested him. Then, he became so engulfed that he rarely moved other than to mutter under his breath. Shen Qingqiu listened with one ear while he did his own work, annoyed and amused in equal measures.

Shen Yuan was well-studied. He had always been bright and curious. In fact, he often had such a deep well of knowledge that it was almost suspicious as to how he had obtained it all. Shen Qingqiu had researched more than once if there was an artifact to grant knowledge beyond reason on a certain topic, but he had been unsuccessful thus far. And Shen Yuan’s knowledge was very specific. He was clueless about politics, about how cultivation worked or how commerce was conducted. He even sometimes seemed to forget that the human and demon realms weren’t one and the same, traversable only by special doorways or transspacial ability. However, Shen Yuan knew a nearly inexhaustible amount about both flora and fauna, though he was better with names than with appearances, often not recognizing what a thing was until it had shown its specific unique quality, wherein he would spout a book’s worth of learned facts about it. This was giving to the fact that he had most likely learned so much from books rather than experience. Once he began his travels, that became less so, and he was able to recognize by sight the things he’d read.

Being so knowledgeable on both beasts and plant life, he had a lot to say when scholars made any kind of mistake.

“What an idiot,” he exclaimed, shaking the book in his hand with a sneer, this one titled ‘A Year Lost in Demonic Wilds’. It was a winding narrative of a cultivator’s trek throughout not the Demonic Wilds, but the regular wilds in the demon realm. The book ended abruptly, implying that the year hadn’t ended well and journal entries were the only thing left of the cultivator to be found. Shen Qingqiu wasn’t sure if this was done to garner literary interest or if the poor author really had met a gruesome end.

Shen Qingqiu would remind Shen Yuan that the book he was throttling was a borrowed tome from the sect’s library acquired by the previous generation of peak lords, but if Shen Yuan was complaining that it contained false information, what use was it in the library anyway? He hoped his brother would make notes with corrections so he could have an updated copy bound.

One of these days, now that he knew his brother wouldn’t be cut down the moment he stepped onto the mountain, Shen Qingqiu was going to commission him to edit as many bestiaries and herbariums on the mountain as possible. He could probably keep his brother close by for nearly a year if he agreed.

Shen Yuan continued, frowning deeper as he read on, “This could not be more obviously the Blind Terror Python^[3] he witnessed. A Terror-blind Dragon^[4] doesn’t blind its victims.” Shen Yuan scoffed so derisively that Shen Qingqiu was envious. Liu Qingge deserved to be at the receiving end of such a noise. “Whoever named these beasts should be hunted for sport.”

“If only you knew who had named them,” Shen Qingqiu said, hoping for their sake they had long passed from this realm. “You could release them at the conference disguised as a demonic beast.”

Shen Yuan narrowed his eyes.

“If only…” He paused for a moment as if savoring a thought then said, “Speaking of the Conference, when is it scheduled to take place?” He continued reading from the book on the table with one hand taking notes and the other snacking on the dainty little cakes freshly delivered this morning.

“We haven’t received our official invitation yet, but it will take place at the end of the season.”

Shen Yuan paused his writing to think for a moment, his eyes staring into the middle distance before he said, “When you and your disciples depart for the conference, Binghe and I will take our leave for the abyss. He’s been banned from participating anyway.”

That had actually been Shen Qingqiu’s suggestion at the Peak Lord meeting to decide the beast’s fate. He’d suggested it to soothe tempers, which it had done marvelously.

“How do you intend to enter the Abyss?” He asked, hoping that perhaps Shen Yuan had no plan and all this preparation would lead to disappointment.

“I have encountered more than one abyssal tear in my travels. One of them has to still be open.” Shen Yuan looked shifty as he said that, but Shen Qingqiu didn’t really care as to why. The less he knew about the dangers his brother was going to willingly endure, the better. Until he got back safe and Shen Qingqiu could beat him over the head for them.

Timeframe decided and Shen Yuan being diligent in his appointed studies under Shen Qingqiu’s strict tutelage, the only thing left to do before they left was ensure Luo Binghe’s cultivation was strong enough to pass Liu Qingge’s brutal critique.

Liu Qingge.

Shen Qingqiu stood by his decision to make Liu Qingge be the one who decided when, if ever, Luo Binghe would be ready to accompany his brother. He may have hated the man, but he was a harsh critic when it came to battle prowess. That still didn’t mean Shen Qingqiu had to enjoy the brute being on his peak.

Shen Qingqiu had many regrets in his life. He had so many that he could fill an ocean with them and still have some spilling over. Some regrets were simple, little things. He tended to linger more on negatives than positives, a trait Shen Yuan had tried and failed to gently coax out of him. Some regrets seemed to weigh upon his heart like large stones strung on a necklace.

One regret was LiuQingge.

Shen Qingqiu had so many regrets regarding Liu Qingge that he had a ranked list, the top of which was, saving Liu Qingge’s life in the Lingxi caves. He had come across the man in the midst of a qi deviation so severe that even Shen Qingqiu, in his many years of witnessing his brothers qi collapsing and his own spiritual energy corrupted, had never seen such disruption. He had acted on instinct, on an old muscle memory that had saved his brother time and again.

It was only when the dust had settled that Shen Qingqiu had realized that he could have just let Liu Qingge die and no one would have blamed him. He could have just wandered back to his own quiet corner and ignored the ruckus, but he had to go and involve himself. The voice in his head that sounded like Shen Yuan had scolded him for that thought, and the little voice that sounded like Yue Qingyuan said nothing but gave the impression of baleful eyes in his direction.

But how annoying Liu Qingge had always been. He’d been less annoying after that, at least, he had become annoying in a different way. He had begun trailing after Shen Qingqiu wherever he went, offering to go on hunts, coming up to talk to him for reasons other than demanding a fight. He had even begun leaving the corpses of beasts he had fought on the porch of the bamboo house.

His odd behavior had lasted until Shen Qingqiu confronted him, spitting mad about his bloodstained threshold, thinking, in part, that this was some elaborate threat from Liu Qingge.

“But you saved me,” had been Liu Qingge’s response, his face darkening with a frown. “I thought you had changed.”

Shen Qingqiu still wondered why Liu Qingge had read so much from a necessary medical treatment of a colleague.

“If I could go back, I'd leave you to choke on your own blood in the caves,” Shen Qingqiu had responded, thinking that would put an end to it.

Liu Qingge had looked at him so earnestly that Shen Qingqiu had been embarrassed for him. He’d said, “Then why did you save me?”

Shen Qingqiu would rather choke on the rancid smoke of the ever-burning pit in the searing Huoshan Du^[5] than reveal any part of his past to this man who had always been a spoiled rich young master. He didn’t owe his and his brother’s story to him, even to sate his curiosity. He didn’t have to answer in any satisfying way, so he wouldn’t.

“Your dying in such disgrace would dishonor the whole sect,” Shen Qingqiu had settled on saying. “I didn't want my name sullied by proximity.”

And, as Shen Qingqiu had hoped, that had been the end to Liu Qingge’s brief stint as Shen Qingqiu’s erratic stalker.

Shen Qingqiu, though loathe to spend any more time in either Liu Qingge or Luo Binghe’s presence than necessary, took his brother’s advice and attended their next spar. He hid his expression behind his fan lest his disgusted sneer peek past. Shen Qingqiu didn’t care if the two brutes battling saw, but his brother certainly would have something to say about it.

He would never admit it out loud to anyone, but Shen Yuan had been right when he had called the little beast a prodigy. Shen Qingqiu had seen his pitiful skills with a sword at the last peakwide assessment, and it had been pathetic beyond belief. He had been bad enough that Shewn Qingqiu had wondered if he’d been skipping his lessons.

Now, though, he stood toe to toe with Shen Yuan, who was a skilled swordsman. After three spars, one of which Luo Binghe had won fairly, Liu Qingge stepped up to take Shen Yuan’s place. While the gap in skill level was more obvious, Luo Binghe held his own fairly well.

Another thing Shen Qingqiu would never admit aloud was that Luo Binghe’s progress now truly did speak poorly of his own teaching ability. Had he really let this boy sit on such talent? If Shen Qingqiu had actually nurtured his skill how much better would he be now? Though, now that it had been revealed that the boy was in some part demon, Shen Qingqiu didn’t regret his decision. Any good the boy would have brought to his name as shizun would have been overwritten with the knowledge of his heritage, so what difference did it make?

Liu Qingge ended the spar after several long minutes by disarming the little beast and sweeping his legs out from under him.

“If you weren’t a demon,” Liu Qingge said as he sheathed his sword and Shen Yuan helped Luo Binghe to his feet, “you would have made a lofty name for yourself on Bai Zhan.”

Shen Qingqiu looked over for the beast’s reaction only to find his starry eyes clinging leacherously to Shen Yuan. Shen Qingqiu had half a mind to challenge the boy himself for this.

It was Shen Yuan who looked up in offence at Liu Qingge’s words.

“If you weren’t so close minded, he could have surpassed even you,” Shen Yuan said with a confident hand on Luo Binghe’s shoulder. Shen Qingqiu would make him wash his hands before entering his home. “In fact, he will. Bias against those like Binghe is only limiting your strength.”

Liu Qingge bristled at that.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Scared that one of my disciples has the skill to outperform yours?” Shen Qingqiu taunted, not even standing, waving his fan lazily in front of his face. “Though, with your teaching abilities, it was bound to happen sometime.”

Liu Qingge bristled further. He hadn’t been allowed off the mountain since Shen Qingqiu had begun needing him to fill in for lessons while he was ill, and the more time he spent on the mountain, the more easily riled up he was.

“It’s been a while since you’ve visited your whores,” Liu Qingge shot back, redfaced and out of his depth, “Is that why you’re being pissy.”

When they had been disciples, Liu Qingge, suspicious and inflammatory and with, apparently, far too much time on his hands, had followed Shen Qingqiu down the mountain. Shen Qingqiu, on a visit to his brother, of course, was reported the next morning to his Shizun, as indulging in prostitutes. Shen Qingqiu had gotten a scolding from his Shizun, but no formal punishment, which had infuriated Liu Qingge. The man had never stopped bringing up the fact that he thought Shen Qingqiu a dirty leacher.

His mistake this time, however, was doing so in front of Shen Yuan.

Shen Qingqiu sat back to enjoy the show.

“His what?” Shen Yuan barked, already puffing his chest in defense, fists balling at his sides ready for a fight.

Shen Yuan had been deeply embarrassed at any show of sexuality growing up. That is, until he had gotten work at the Warm Red Pavillion. It had seemed, when he first began working there, that his cheeks would never return to their normal color from him blushing so often, but he had become used to it eventually. After working there for so many years, Shen Yuan had transformed into a staunch defender of sex work and priostitutes in particular. Even Shen Qingqiu had to watch his words sometimes lest he accidentally insinuate that the brothel workers were anything to look down upon.

“Oh,” Liu Qingge said, smirking in a confident manner after deeply misreading Shen Yuan’s reaction. “Does your brother not know of your whoremongering? Too ashamed?” He turned his self-righteousness to Shen Yuan, “Your beloved brother has abandoned his peak mates since we were disciples to sneak down the mountain and indulge in the flesh.”

Luo Binghe, at Shen Yuan’s side darted his eyes curiously to Shen Qingqiu, and, when he caught his gaze, jerked them back as his face burned red. Shen Qingqiu wondered if his disciple had heard the rumors already. The rest of the mountain sure had.

“To the Warm Red Pavilion?” Shen Yuan clarified, as if he had to, as if there were other brothels Shen Qingqiu had spent his time in over the years. Though, Shen Qingqiu’s indignation over that assumption was one of the things that got him a lecture from Shen Yuan on his attitude and judgements towards prostitutes.

Liu Qingge nodded an affirmation.

“He was visiting me,” Shen Yuan confidently stated. He continued, as if this wouldn’t break Liu Qingge’s simple mind, “I worked there while he was a disciple.”

Liu Qingge stared, mouth agape, as fire burned across his face. Luo Binghe was much the same. Shen Qingqiu wasn’t sure if he wanted to bask in their embarrassment or clear up misunderstandings before rumors spread about his brother.

“Explain what your duties were before he qi deviates,” Shen Qingqiu said. He didn’t know who Liu Qingge would snitch to about Shen Yuan, and he didn’t want to chance finding out.

“Why?” Shen Yuan demanded, voice determined.

Shen Qingqiu sighed. A determined Shen Yuan was a nightmare.

“Because he’s imagining something false,” Shen Qingqiu explained, though he knew it would take more than that to convince him.

When Shen Qingqiu had first learned that his brother had found employment at the pavilion, he had also made the wrong assumption. He had burned so hot with anger that he’d, for a moment, wondered if he’d set fire to another estate. How dare any man dare lay hands on the brother he’d been defending since birth? How dare Shen Yuan squander all his hard work through the years.

A small part of him, the festering, dark part of him that had grown as a necessity for survival, lauded Shen Yuan’s monetizing of a passive skill he’d always possessed, his charm and allure.

Shen Qingqiu had beat that part back with a stick.

Once Shen Yuan had clarified, Shen Qingqiu had still taken time to adjust to where his brother worked. Meeting the Jiejies and discovering how protective they were of Shen Yuan had helped. Also, the first time he had seen his brother take out a rowdy customer.

Shen Qingqiu now missed the days he visited his brother there, in fact, he still visited from time to time to catch up on gossip and have his hair braided.

“I’m not ashamed of any assumptions he might make,” Shen Yuan said. He never was.

“Yuan-ge.”

“No.” Shen Yuan turned to Liu Qingge, who took a step back as if Shen Yuan was going to infect him with a deadly disease. “If whores are so unseemly to you then perhaps you should leave. I may try to corrupt you too.” When Liu Qingge just stood there, likely trying to come up with a response in the raisin he had for a brain, Shen Yuan cocked his head with a calculating look before he smirked and said, “Unless you’re looking for a taste?”

Shen Yuan seemed to realize, then, what he’d said because he flushed almost as dark as Liu Qingge, faltering for just a moment before doubling down. “I was always among the popular snacks at the pavilion.”

“You!” Liu Qingge said with a splutter. “Indecent!” He shouted, mounting his sword to fly off in a direction that definitely wasn’t Bai Zhan peak.

Shen Qingqiu wondered if he was just too flustered to remember where his peak was or if he was going straight to Yue Qingyuan to tattle. Yue Qingyuan would set him to rights, at least if that was where he was headed. He hated the assumption Shen Yuan had been a prostitute more than Shen Qingqiu did. He was such a prude.

“You do realize once you leave I am still going to have to deal with these people?” Shen Qingqiu called out in the ensuing silence.

Shen Yuan laughed with his whole belly at that.

Shen Qingqiu stood to join his brother and the little beast who was still blushing to the roots of his hair and avoiding looking at either brother.

“Don’t be embarrassed, Binghe,” Shen Yuan said, patting Luo Binghe on the back, which only burned his blush hotter. “Sex is a natural urge people have. Prostitution is just a profession like any other.”

Luo Binghe did not look comforted.

“Ge,” Shen Qingqiu muttered. He almost didn’t correct his brother’s mistake, but, he realized, the little beast was likely going to be picturing his brother as a prostitute and all the implications therein if he didn’t. He turned to his disciple, whose face hadn’t become any less red. “My brother worked there for the security of the establishment, nothing else. Get your mind out of the gutter you degenerate.”

Shen Yuan rolled his eyes.

“Don’t worry, Binghe, my only deviation is demonic cultivation, not prostitution. Though most of my friends are prostitutes, and they’re lovely people.

Luo Binghe finally looked up at Shen Yuan, his face still red, but not looking as if were about to burst.

Misunderstanding resolved, Shen Qingqiu scoffed and stalked off.

“He still isn’t good enough for you to go,” he called over his shoulder. “Be done training by the conference or I will rescind permission again.”

He heard Shen Yuan mutter something to Luo Binghe that made the boy chuckle, but he ignored it. If he turned around now, he would likely beat them both over the head for it, even if it hadn’t been at his expense.

Notes:

another miles long end note so buckle up!

Sqq: how do you plan on entering the abyss?
Sy, who has been threatened by the system more than once that lbh will enter the abyss one way or another no matter what sy did to try and prevent it: haha im sure well figure it out

Sy: lbh is such a prodigy he’s nearly at a level to defeat me in a spar. He keeps throwing matches to make me feel better
Lbh, realizing that he should have hid how well he was progressing no matter how deeply he craved sy’s praise because now sy only pins him to the ground when he throws a fight on purpose: i would never

Ive just vaguely alluded to this but since both brothers were a part of the household, shen yuan became qiu haitangs little pookie while shen qingqiu ended up facing qiu jianluo’s abuse. I think either he snapped and murdered everyone because qiu jianluo was drunk and mistook shen Yuan for him and shen qingqiu came across qjl about to hurt shen yuan or shwn yuan realized what qiu jianluo was doing to his brother and waas like actually you know what fuck this and killed everyone instead

also i really have been leaning into the ‘sqq took care of clueless airhead sy throughout their childhood and if he hadn’t been there sy would have been hopeless’ but that’s really only because im writing from sqq’s perspective and he sees himself as shen yuans protector if this was from shen yuans pov it would be the same in the other direction “my useless brother is so prickly and off putting if i hadn’t been there to take care of him growing up surely he would have been stabbed by now” but like x1000000000 bc shen yuan knows sqq’s canon fate

name-dropped flaura/fauna:

[1] yellow-beaked scalp slug: (warning this one is gross) more of a long, thin worm than a slug but it is a parasitic creature that sneaks into the beds of sleeping people and attaches its beak to their scalp. It ays eggs in their hair which hatch into little tiny worms, so small that they look like strands of hair and if gone unnoticed, the worms replace the person’s head of hair completely until its just worms up there. This wasn’t a wife plot but a secret punishment lbh would inflict on those shixiongs at huan hua who had spoken down on him when he had been a part of Cang Xiong ^[return]

[2] Bear-faced Plague Sheep: this one wasnt even relevant to the pidw plot, just a throwaway creature lbh slaughtered to eat while in the abyss. No abilities or attributes were mentioned in the original novel so sy is frothing at the mouth to study it. I won’t write anything about it here because it will make an appearance later unless i drop the ball and forger about it ^[return]

[3] Blind terror python: an abyss creature who lets out a screech that blinds its opponents as a way to capture prey. This was a freshly yeeted bingge who used this opportunity to further hone his demon senses ^[return]

[4] Terror-blind dragon: a large lizard demon that, when frightened, goes blind temporarily and lashes out at anything and anyone nearby, recognizing neither friend nor foe. This one was the beloved pet to a beautiful, busty demonic beast tamer who was injured by her own beloved pet after bing-ge started them by crash landing near them after a battle. The cure wasn’t papapa, but after bingge healed her with his blood she was so grateful that she could think of no way to thank him other than on her knees i guess ^[return]

[5] (Neither flora nor fauna but brief mention to Huoshan Du [火山毒 lit. “volcano poison”] in pidw this was an inactive volcano that spewed deadly poisonous gas that a minor low iq villain threw lbh in to try and overthrow his reign not knowing he is immune to poison damage) ^[return]

After writing so many of these creatures and what they are in PIDW in my mind i kind of want to write a fic thats just pidw, like just the story of bingge. I genuinely think ive been possessed by the spirit of airplane shooting toward the sky

i think i said last time but feel free to use any of these creatures in your fics just credit back to me in the end notes or something

Also i wrote a very short little oneshot of lqg and lbh during the 5 years sqq was dead if you wanna read it here

Tell me what you think!