Chapter Text
Shen Qingqiu died in his sleep.
It was anticlimactic.
He had always thought that he would go out screaming and fighting, the same way he had spent most of his life. Instead, he drowned in the dark depths of his nightmares, the unpleasant tang of blood on his tongue, unable and unwilling to ask for help.
It wasn’t a peaceful end, but it was a quiet one.
He floated in the nothingness for a while, feeling detached and uncaring, resigned to spend eternity this way. Just as he expected, there was no afterlife. Only darkness, deafeningly quiet and empty.
Then he heard a sound. It was high-pitched, rhythmical and extremely annoying. Shen Qingqiu hated it with his whole being.
[Welcome to the System! Due to numerous complaints, your extraction has been cancelled. Rejoice! Unfortunately, your original body is currently unavailable. However, we have found a suitable replacement! Do you accept?]
"What kind of a demon are you?" asked Shen Qingqiu. He had no mouth and no tongue, but somehow he was able to produce words the moment he needed to.
[No demons detected. You can continue your existence in a new world. Do you accept?]
"And what do you want in return?"
[No payment required. All aims have been achieved. The System is required to provide compensation to the victim of unauthorized extraction. An unoccupied body is available. Wish fulfilment required to gain control.]
"What wish?"
[In order to find out, User needs to accept. The offer will expire in one, two, three…]
"Don’t play games with me," his voice was so icy one could stab someone with it.
[The System was aiming to expedite User’s decision making process. According to statistics, with User’s consciousness awake indefinitely, User will accept at some point in the future. Refusing is irrational.]
Some part of Shen Qingqiu wanted to refuse, just to prove he could. But he wanted to live. He had spent all his life fighting for survival, even if this survival was objectively terrible, of course he would take the offer, even if his new body would be that of a worm. Living as a worm was likely not much worse than living as a slave.
"I accept."
[Excellent! We hope that you will have a fulfilling experience!]
He didn’t have enough time to answer, as the darkness had swallowed his consciousness whole.
He woke up to the familiar smell of floral incense. He associated this smell with safety, a feeling he rarely got to enjoy. It was soothing even though he knew that this incense was used to mask all the unpleasant smells produced by the main occupation of the establishments of this kind. Shen Qingqiu preferred not to dwell overly much on the ugly reality as it made him sick to his stomach. The smell, however, was as always pleasant and welcome.
A small, soft hand touched his forehead. He could tell it belonged to a woman so he didn’t immediately slap it away. Instead, he opened his eyes.
It was indeed a woman. The kind you would expect to see in a brothel. Beautiful enough to be in high demand, she was dressed for work: the neckline of her red silk ruqun1 was dangerously low and barely covered by a gauzy shawl. Her face was powdered white, but the bright red lip lacquer was smudged. Likewise her hair was still in an elaborate up-do, but several tendrils of hair had come loose. Evidently she had come here immediately after work.
"Your fever finally broke. Don’t scare us like that again," said the woman. Her voice was low and pleasant. She was likely a decent singer.
"Fever?" asked Shen Qingqiu, and flinched. His voice grated on his ears, high as a bell and completely alien. Had he become a child?
"You don’t remember? You started coughing a few days after that brute threw you outside with no clothes on. We thought it wasn’t anything serious, but then you wouldn’t wake and your forehead was so hot I was sure you’d die. I asked the Madam to call for the doctor, but you know how she is."
Shen Qingqiu sat up in his bed and looked down at his body, covered by a ratty blanket. Hands small and elegant, with long nails which retained a faint reddish hue from some kind of dye, couldn’t belong to a man. Neither could the pair of breasts he could clearly see beneath the blanket.
It was much worse than becoming a child.
He was in a woman’s body. And not just any woman’s! This body belonged to a prostitute. He had returned back to life only to lose his freedom all over again. And this time he wasn’t sure that he would be able to win it back.
"Your lips have gone white again! Don’t rush. If you need to lie down, lie down. I’ll call for A-Yao. The poor thing has been beside himself with worry this whole time," said the woman and stood up.
As soon as she left, Shen Qingqiu scrambled out of the bed. He stumbled as soon as he was on his feet, unused to his new body. He could tell that he was much shorter than he used to be and he loathed this fact. Just another weakness to account for.
Although the room was small and sparsely furnished, it belonged to a prostitute, so there had to be a mirror somewhere. And, indeed, Shen Qingqiu found a bronze mirror on a small table. As he peered at his own reflection, he noted that his new body didn’t look much like him: round faced and big eyed, this woman reminded him of Ning Yingying. He couldn’t establish her age, though she seemed to be at least in her twenties.
"Who are you?" he thought while studying his new features.
The annoying voice suddenly returned.
[The donor is Meng Shi, a prostitute from the Hundred Flowers Tower in Yinping. Current status: deceased. Cause of death: fever.]
He noted all the names for future use. The name of the brothel made him scoff at its banality.
[Press "accept" to receive more hints in the future]
Two bright pieces of paper appeared in front of him, and Shen Qingqiu reluctantly touched the one with the word "accept" on it. He couldn’t say no to more information.
Before he could do much else, the door opened and a small child walked in, carrying a tray with a bowl of soup. Shen Qingqiu assumed it was one of the servants.
"Mother, you shouldn’t be up yet. You were sick for so long! Please, lie down. I can help you eat."
[Attention User! This is Meng Yao, the only son of Meng Shi. Her final wish was for her body’s recipient to protect her child and help him become a noble cultivator.]
Mother!?
What kind of sick joke was this? Shen Qingqiu had already been thrown into the body of a sickly mortal woman, who didn’t even own her own body, he didn’t need a snivelling brat clinging at his robes and calling him mother!
He took several calming breaths. Shen Qingqiu used to be a teacher, he could do it again. This Meng Yao was old enough to take care of himself, so he could teach him cultivation and set the brat on his way. Meng Yao… Why was this name familiar anyway?
[The User must be previously acquainted with the book called Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation.]
That was right. Years ago, he had confiscated a book with scandalous contents from his female disciples. Usually he wouldn’t care what they were reading, but their giggling had been profoundly annoying.
The only reason why he finished the book instead of burning it on the spot was the word "cultivation" in the title: he had to check whether it had any actual practices described. It was forbidden to put actual cultivation practices in fiction, because cultivators were stingy with their teachings. It was one of the things Shen Qingqiu fully approved of, because he didn’t want some lucky bastard to learn how to cultivate from a stupid book.
He found nothing incriminating, other than a few disturbing erotic scenes. He remembered asking one of the female hall masters to give a talk to all the female disciples about consent and safety. As for the plot of the book, it was surprisingly entertaining, he’d say he enjoyed it, if it weren’t for the main character, who was so infuriating he made Shen Qingqiu want to tear his hair out almost every chapter.
Now that the title of the book was pointed out to him, Shen Qingqiu remembered who Meng Yao was. In the book he was mostly known as Jin Guangyao, an antagonist of sorts. A man who rose from the gutter and was shamed and demeaned all his life for his origin, Shen Qingqiu had almost felt bad for him by the end of the story.
"Mother?" asked the child, who was apparently destined to become a Chief Cultivator and die a gruesome death. Worry was written all over his tiny face. The brat didn’t even know that his mother was dead. If Shen Qingqiu were a decent person, he would feel guilty about it.
"I don’t need any help with eating," said Shen Qingqiu and sat down on the bed. He wasn’t particularly hungry, but he wasn’t in the habit of refusing food.
The child hesitantly handed him the tray. The broth was pale with a few pieces of vegetables and nothing more. A poor man’s fare, but still better than nothing.
"Are you feeling better, Mother?"
"Speaking when you are eating is bad manners. But yes, I do feel better. Now be quiet."
He expected to hate the brat, but something in his eagerness reminded Shen Qingqiu of Ming Fan. Perhaps he could learn to see Meng Yao as a disciple. One of the least annoying ones.
"How are your studies going?" asked Shen Qingqiu after he finished his meal.
"I practice my writing every time I have a spare moment," said the brat.
"Show me."
The brat retrieved a piece of light wood, an old brush and a chipped tea cup filled with water. Shen Qingqiu observed with some curiosity. Despite his destitute origins, he had received his education in a noble household, so he never had to be stingy with paper. This was a clever way to conserve some resources.
The child dipped the brush in water and began to write. Shen Qingqiu immediately recognised the first lines of one of Li Bai’s poems. The brat’s technique was decent, his characters well-proportioned and harmonious though lacking some of the personality that defined good calligraphy. Shen Qingqiu could work with that.
"Acceptable. What about your physical training?"
Now the brat looked dejected, "I tried some of the meditation techniques from the pamphlet, but I couldn’t feel anything."
"Show it to me."
The child took out a thin bamboo scroll from a wooden chest in the corner of the room. As soon as Shen Qingqiu unfolded the scroll, he could tell that its contents were complete garbage. Perhaps the rules of meditation were different, but he couldn’t believe that such shitty forms could work in any world.
"If it doesn’t work, we will do it my way," said Shen Qingqiu as he crossed his legs. "Sit in front of me and copy my posture."
"Did you find a new cultivation manual?" asked the brat, mirroring his pose perfectly.
"No. Now be quiet and do as I say. Breathe in and out, focusing on this point,” Shen Qingqiu poked the spot below the child’s navel with two fingers sharply, so the feeling would linger. "This is the center of your breath."
He watched the brat breathe for several cycles, ensuring that he was doing it correctly. Then he continued: "There’s energy, called Qi, circulating within you. Imagine it going here", Shen Qingqiu poked him again. "This is your lower dantian. Focus on it."
Unfortunately without his cultivation Shen Qingqiu couldn’t check whether the brat was meditating correctly. Having nothing better to do, he joined the child in meditation, trying to gauge whether he’d be able to do any cultivation in this new body. From what he could tell, it was going to be an extremely slow process, but he still had to try. He needed some way to protect himself, especially given his new… position.
They kept meditating until evening, when the woman from before came in and ruined their concentration, "What are you two doing? You’ve missed dinner."
This time the System provided commentary. Shen Qingqiu noted that other people in the room didn’t appear to hear its voice.
[Name: Li Sisi. Occupation: a prostitute from the Hundred Flowers Tower in Yinping. Role: Meng Shi’s friend and protector.]
"We were meditating," chirped the boy as he stood up. "It was amazing, Aunt Sisi! I feel like I can run to the river and back a hundred times and not get tired."
"If you’re that energetic, you can come help in the kitchen. They’ll give you some leftovers if you do."
"I’ll bring you something, when I’m done, Mother," said the boy as he left the room. He seemed eager to work. It was a good sign for his future cultivation.
"Did you waste the whole day on this cultivation crap?" asked Sisi. "Teach him practical things. Better yet, let him spend more time in the kitchens. With his origins, he cannot become a scholar, but he could become a cook or a butcher."
"He’s meant to be a cultivator. He was born with talent, and I will not allow it to be wasted," said Shen Qingqiu primly. That was one of the reasons Shen Qingqiu sympathised with Jin Guangyao’s character: both of them had started to cultivate too late because of the circumstances beyond their control.
"Do you really believe they’ll allow that to happen?"
"Who cares whether they allow it or not? He’ll be a cultivator either way."
"Always so stubborn! But he’s your son, not mine, so I get no say in the way you raise him."
"You don’t."
"If you can argue like that, you must be feeling better. How are you feeling?"
"Fine."
"I’m glad. The Madam is eager for you to return to work. Don’t show your face to her till you’re ready. She’ll send you to a client as soon as she sees that you are able to walk."
He hadn’t considered the particulars of his new position yet. The thought of having to take a client made him shudder. Shen Qingqiu would have to do something about it.
"This Meng Shi thanks Sisi for her counsel."
"Why so formal all of a sudden? Ah, never mind, I need to go to work. I’ll see you in the morning, please try to sleep while you can. You’re still too pale."
Shen Qingqiu did feel tired despite his earlier meditation. It was annoying and a clear sign that he had a long way to go if he wanted to return even a whisper of cultivation.
After Sisi left, he went through Meng Shi’s things, looking for more information. If somebody grew suspicious of his changed behaviour, it would be extremely inconvenient. He didn’t find much: there was a poetry book, extremely old but well cared for, a pearl that he was going to get rid of as soon as possible, and a modest qin.
The brat returned when Shen Qingqiu was playing a simple melody to test the instrument. He was a very polite brat: he didn’t interrupt, watching him play quietly until the song was over.
"I’ve never heard you play this song," said the child.
"It’s not suited for the sort of people who come here."
"It’s beautiful, Mother."
"I will teach it to you later."
The child’s eyes widened, "But… you said it wasn’t proper for a gentleman to play."
What a strange notion. Playing the qin was one of the Four Arts of the scholar2. It was only proper for a young man of good breeding to learn this skill. In fact, Shen Qingqiu remembered that Jin Guangyao knew how to play and used the instrument to kill his sworn brother. He had assumed that he had learned from his mother, but, clearly, she refused to teach him for some reason.
"It’s not proper to play the kind of songs you can hear here, but I’ll teach you other ones."
"Thank you, Mother. This Meng Yao is happy to learn. I brought you something to eat," the boy handed him a baozi. It was barely warm, but still soft. He ate it immediately under the child’s expectant gaze and gave him a curt nod in appreciation when he was done.
"Mother…" started the brat timidly. "May this one sleep here today? Aunt Sisi told me to sleep in the kitchen so I wouldn’t catch your sickness, but now that you’re feeling better…"
Shen Qingqiu opened his mouth to send the child away. There was no world where he would share his bed with a man, even if the man in question was still a child. However, the voice intervened.
[Meng Shi wouldn’t send her child to sleep elsewhere.]
"Yes, you may," said Shen Qingqiu, resigning himself to a sleepless night.
The brat must’ve felt his reluctance because he prepared for bed very slowly and stood there hesitantly for a few moments before sliding under the blanket. Shen Qingqiu turned his back to the brat and sighed.
Despite his expectations, he fell asleep immediately.
His dreams were surprisingly peaceful. It was almost like he was back to his childhood: curled up together with somebody warm and safe.
It was disturbing.
1 A common type of traditional Chinese clothing for women. It consists of a top (ru) and a separate skirt (qun). return to text ↩
2 The four core accomplishments of a learned Chinese scholar-gentleman: Qin (the traditional stringed musical instrument, also known as guqin), Qi (the strategy game of Go), Shu (calligraphy), and Hua (painting). return to text ↩