Chapter Text
It was to nobody’s surprise that Shang Qinghua, when he caught wind of Shen Qingqiu’s schemes, immediately identified where all of the latter’s inspiration was sourced. Honestly what Shen Qingqiu didn’t understand was why Shang Qinhua himself had not done any of this earlier. Airplane bro either, 1. Had some kind of conscience regarding stealing intellectual property, 2. Could not care less about Cang Qiong finances or 3. Was genuinely too busy or tired to scheme. There was no way in hell it was the first, given that Proud Immortal demon Way was, largely, a mishmash of the most popular tropes in the fantasy stallion novel genre, and it was highly unlikely to be the second, as An Ding Peak was in charge of Sect finances and logistics. This left the final option, and Shen Qingqiu felt rather sorry for his fellow transmigrator. While the role of Shen Qingqiu had initially been quite stressful on the whole, seeing little white lotus Luo Binghe and preventing most of the truly horrific events in his journey of “blackening” had soothed Shen Qingqiu’s worries. He was now simply a high ranking Peak Lord with barely a worry. Shang Qinghua on the other hand, had drawn the short end of the stick, as he was still stuck in the most undesirable and least respected position in Cang Qiong.
At the end of the day however it was less from a sense of pity, and more from his yearning for a friend who suffered the same fate as him that Shen Qingqiu invited Shang Qinghua to join him and Liu Mingyan in cooking up further schemes in order to support the future of the Sect. As a co-conspirator, Shang Qinghua was dubbed Head of Marketing and Supply Chain Logistics. At this, Shang Qinghua wept with indignation at the job title, which so closely paralleled his role for the sect.
“It’s because you had the audacity to write such a terrible novel. Don’t think I’ve forgiven you Airplane Bro,” Shen Qingqiu muttered with thinly veiled contempt while Shang Qinghua continued to wail. “In any case, this is what you’re good at. Unlike writing. And if you’d rather not help, feel free to leave.”
At this, Shang Qinghua shut up immediately and got to work.
For all their bickering, Shen Qingqiu and Shang Qinghua were kindred souls in mourning the lack of modern infrastructure: hot showers at the turn of a knob, soft mattresses with memory foam, pre-packaged snacks, delivery apps for every craving (not to mention world cuisine), and most importantly, access to the internet. Shen Qingqiu could almost forgive Shang Qinghua for Proud Immortal Demon Way when he saw the man’s eyes glaze over wistfully at the mere mention of “wifi.” They both knew, deep down, that their greatest cultivator tribulation was living in a world without Google.
With Shang Qinghua’s help, they expanded their merchandise lines. Shang Qinghua, having dearly missed his old bed piled high with Pokémon plushies, eagerly proposed a line of cultivation-themed plushies to fill the aching void in his heart. Shen Qingqiu was too proud to admit that he was unduly excited by the prospect of tiny stuffed spirit beasts. The real sensation, however, turned out to be the Mystical Blind Boxes. Each box contained a random peak lord trinket (100% protective against demonic qi), some of which were charmed to glow faintly in the moonlight, making them “rare pulls”, causing a collection frenzy amongst the disciples and mortals alike. Shen Qingqiu also wanted to promote engagement of other means, and began to craft personality quizzes (oh how he missed uquiz). The charmed slips of paper revealed one’s destined Peak Lord after answers were tallied, though Shen Qingqiu kept this particular scheme under wraps. He knew all too well that Liu Qingge would twitch with fury if he ever discovered disciples were earnestly hanging portraits of their “fated match” on their bedroom walls.
What Shen Qingqiu failed to realize, however, was that there were three secretly committed connoisseurs of Peak Lord Shen merchandise. His golden disciple Luo Binghe, rabid in his devotion, had begun buying out entire stalls to hoard Shizun photocards and trinkets. Luo Binghe took the personality quizzes no fewer than thirty times, determined to collect every version where fate revealed Peak Lord Shen as his destined match. He also made sure to rip the paper to shreds the single time it spat out Liu Qingge instead. To support his fanboy habits, Luo Binghe even took up part-time work at a local restaurant. Before long, Ming Fan and Ning Yingying had joined the waitstaff too, having realized that Binghe’s wages translated directly into more Shizun merch. Shen Qingqiu, ever the detached teacher, merely praised their dedication, expounding on the virtues of experiencing mortal livelihoods and broadening their understanding of the world. He would never have guessed their true motives.
Yue Qingyuan, in his usual quiet, dignified way, purchased several full sets of Peak Lord Shen photocards, ostensibly “to support his shidi’s endeavors.” In reality, he kept one pristine set tucked away in a box in his study, preserving them like sacred relics. The rest he distributed among the younger disciples with a benevolent smile, all the while refusing to admit to anyone that this was an excuse to get involved with Shen Qingqiu’s life without the man pushing him away. After all, it was for the disciples .
Liu Qingge, by contrast, was openly scornful of the entire enterprise. He dismissed the merch as frivolous nonsense, declared disciples fools for wasting money, and often threatened to burn stalls of trinkets for being a disgrace to cultivation. “What use is a photocard in battle?” he demanded while dramatically ripping one with his stoic face emblazoned across the front in half, after catching disciples participating in an exchange during training. Later, when confiscating yet another Peak Lord Shen card, he slipped it into his sleeve with a scowl, muttering something about “the dangers of letting such things fall into the wrong hands.” That card eventually found its way into his weapons chest, carefully placed beside his most treasured sword.
Shang Qinghua, watching all this go down, couldn’t understand how the plot of Proud Immortal Demon Way had derailed to such a great extent. He sat, hunched over the accounts book, eyes bloodshot, grumbling under his breath. “Suddenly the sect’s main plotline has morphed into a business arc where the primary antagonist is inexplicably running a nationwide trade empire. Where is my protagonist, who should be juggling thirty wives and culling the cultivation world? He’s buying photocards ” He stabbed his brush into the inkstone like it had personally wronged him. “This is what authors get for pouring their heart and soul into a story. No thanks at all. This was supposed to be a story of blood and betrayal. Instead, my stallion protagonist is working overtime at a noodle shop to fund his Shizun merch addiction. What kind of cheap knockoff universe have I been dragged into?”
But Shang Qinghua wasn’t really complaining, now that he was a resident of PIDW himself, he could quite readily admit that his current reality was far preferable to the fate he had originally resigned his vessel to.