Chapter Text
When Shen Jiu arrived at the Warm Red Pavilion one of his jiejies, Shi Yu, was quick to lace her arm with his and lead him straight to the madam.
“A-Jiu! It’s been too long,” Shi Yu said, tugging him down the corridor and towards the back rooms that customers were typically completely banned from entering (with very few exceptions for trusted individuals like himself). “We’ve been hoping you’d visit us again for months now!”
He sighed in a put-upon fashion. “The sect leader was being insufferable about my outings. Full of theoretically polite hints about upholding the sect’s image that barely concealed his judgemental condemnation. He was spurred on by that brute’s sneering reports of my visits here. This is the first chance I’ve had to sneak away in ages. Officially, I’m on a night hunt right now.”
The madam looked suspiciously delighted to see him. Relieved. “Madam Zhao, you look a little too happy to see me today,” he said, and accepted her squeeze of his hands and the kiss on his cheek… but narrowed his eyes at her. “Either business is so poor you need a loan, or one of my jiejies is in trouble. If it’s the latter, tell me if it’s herbs, money, or my sword you need most; I brought all three.”
Surprisingly, she laughed and shook her head. “None of the above, though a little money might be appropriate if I can tempt you to buy out our new… resident’s contract, A-Jiu. Very cheap, he’s only been here two months. I bought him especially for you, so I’m hoping you will agree to redeem him.”
He wrinkled his nose in distaste. “My lack of interest in women doesn’t mean I’m interested in buying a male concubine, Madam Zhao.”
The madam gave a secretive little smile, the corners of her eyes crinkling up in amusement in a way that suddenly showed her age even more than the first few strands of grey in her hair. “Go and fetch our little pomegranate, Shi Yu,” she ordered, and the young woman bowed and giggled as she left.
Shen Jiu snapped open his fan and fluttered it slowly as he waited for an explanation. Madam Zhao had been a good friend for over a decade now and was certainly familiar with his distaste for both slavery and the pleasures of the flesh. He would give her the benefit of the doubt… for now.
“He’s not a concubine, or a brothel worker,” she explained. “He’s a young slave, just a child. Three years old, or thereabouts; he’s not sure of his exact age himself. Shen Shiliu is the name on the contract, though he prefers to go by Shen Yuan. Sometimes we call him Xiao Shiliu – our little pomegranate. Yuan-di indulges our whimsy so long as we understand it’s only a nickname and not his ‘real’ name, and written with the characters meaning the fruit, rather than the number sixteen. He… looks a great deal like you, A-Jiu.”
He nods slowly. “I… see. You understand, of course, that there’s no chance whatsoever that he’s my son. The age difference is decades, so there’s no chance he could be a sibling, either.”
“I know, A-Jiu. Still, the resemblance is remarkable. I don’t know if he could lead you to finding your birth family or not – his contract has next to nothing on it, and he’s recorded as an orphan. Still, it seemed like… an opportunity for you to perhaps connect with family.”
He sneered. “An ‘orphan’. The world has so many alleged orphans, and criminals, and people ‘voluntarily’ selling themselves – that’s just how slavers get around legal restrictions against enslaving whomever they want. It’s likely some impoverished Shen family keeps selling most of their spawn as fast as they pop them out, each generation. I don’t think I want to know any of them, frankly.”
When Shi Yu returned accompanied by the young child he couldn’t help but stare, because Madam Zhao was so right. The boy looked exactly like him in miniature, with the same green phoenix eyes, same small nose, and sharp chin. The only differences in appearance were very minor; his straight black hair was shorter, of course, and he wore a sweet, innocent smile that Shen Jiu doubted had ever graced his own face.
Shen Yuan’s smile dropped away into an expression of sheer shock the instant Shen Jiu snapped his fan closed to reveal his own face. The boy literally gaped at him for a second before he snapped his mouth shut. A disgusted sneer briefly showed on little Yuan’s face before he hid it away behind a false smile.
His heart lurched because suddenly he didn’t just see the resemblance, he felt it. Like this was his own son, even though it was utterly impossible. That tiny child was wearing his judgemental sneer, and then he covered it up with Qi-ge’s fake smile. That people-pleasing ridiculous falseness that fooled everyone except himself. A façade of calm and courtesy to hide away whatever it was he really felt. Disgust. Disappointment. Shame. He rarely knew what Qi-ge truly felt because he refused to talk, gave him nothing but empty courtesy and bribes to stay quiet about their shared shameful past. Some days he loved that man with a hollow ache that gnawed at his soul, but most days he felt nothing but anger and disappointment at their history – and himself – being cast off and buried like trash.
He stared at the child as he carefully circled around himself and trotted over behind Madam Zhao’s desk, and leant against her side. He was so small that his eyes could barely peep over the top of the desk. The rest of him was hidden, safe at his protector’s side. Smart boy.
For a wild moment he thought, He must get that from me.
Which was ridiculous. But it made him think. How he could use this. Use it to ruin the life of the unflappable, perfect sect leader. Yue Qingyuan; even the child’s name was another arrow in his quiver. He would drag him down to join him in the muck and force him to deal with their sect siblings’ sneers and judgement too. Soil his reputation in ways he would never recover from.
“I’m not your father, child,” he said abruptly. If he as a child had met some man with his own face, his first thought would have been to assume a paternal link. His second impulse would have been to kick them in the balls. He’d rather avoid both responses. “My name is Shen Qingqiu, and I’m the Peak Lord of Qing Jing Peak in the Cang Qiong Mountain Sect. Have you heard of my sect?”
“Yes.” It’s curt, rudely so. He doesn’t mind.
“While I’m not your father, or your brother – I want that to be completely clear, and Madam Zhao can vouch for that if you don’t believe me – it is possible that we are distantly related. Would Shen Yuan be interested in living with this one as his son? I would be willing to buy out your contract. I would provide you with a good life in exchange for your full cooperation with a story to justify your presence in my home. And should our arrangement not work out, I would set you free with money to establish yourself elsewhere. Perhaps I could provide some assistance in locating a new family for you, too. I’m sure I could find you some dull childless couple with a farm, for instance, who would welcome a healthy boy.”
“It’s a good offer, Yuan-di,” Madam Zhao said encouragingly. “This man is our A-Jiu – you’ve heard some of your sisters talk about him, I expect. He’s a good man and would treat you well. If you prefer, however, you can stay here and keep working cleaning the rooms and helping in the kitchen, and when you’re older… well, we can discuss other jobs to pay off your debt more quickly. It would be a harder life staying here though, make no mistake about that.”
The child winced, and Shen Jiu could see in his face that he knew what the madam was implying. Knew, like a child his age shouldn’t have to understand, exactly how Madam Zhao would expect him to eventually pay off his debt for food and lodging when he was old enough. Perhaps from when he was twelve or so. Fifteen, if he was lucky. Madam Zhao was a kind woman and looked after all the jiejies of the Warm Red Pavilion. She gave them decent meals, protected them from violently-minded customers, issued contraceptive or abortifacient herbs as needed at low cost, and let them rest when they were sick. But at the end of the day she was running a business, not a charity. If Shen Yuan – no, the slave Shen Shiliu – didn’t take Shen Jiu’s offer, eventually he’d end up paying off his debt to the brothel on his back.
“Madam Zhao, can this one talk to A-Jiu on his own, please?” the child begged, with big wide eyes and another one of his fake smiles. “Will you wait for Yuan-di outside?”
He’s more articulate than I expected for such a tiny thing, he thought. Smart. Cunning. I think this could work.
She agreed to wait just outside the door, and when it was just the two of them the child hopped up on her vacant chair to better see him. He thought it was a strategic choice rather than shyness, for without the madam watching him the sweet, shy act dropped away to reveal a more honest judgemental stare.
“What do you really want from me?” Shen Yuan asked suspiciously, with oh-so-familiar narrowed eyes.
“To adopt you, at least temporarily,” he replied. “Your co-operation in a pretence about your parentage would be a non-negotiable part of your adoption. We will hide your true origin and replace it with a story of my choosing. You seem like a bright child, so you must know your life on Qing Jing Peak would be immeasurably better than your future in a brothel, no matter how nice the jiejies here are to you. You might even have the opportunity to cultivate in a few years’ time, if you have any talent.”
The boy’s wariness continued, and he couldn’t help but approve of it even though it frustrated him not to gain his instant cooperation. Patience, he reminded himself. If he agreed without hesitation he’d be too stupid to be of any use to you, anyway.
“If you lay one hand on me, or if your cock comes anywhere near me I will castrate you,” Shen Yuan threatened crudely. “You have to sleep some time and I will get a knife and cut off your fucking balls.”
Most people would find a toddler threatening them funny, but he didn’t laugh. It was admittedly a little funny, coming from a child that small. But Shen Jiu knew the threat was real. He saw it in those hard eyes – this child was made a slave far too young and was used to a bitter life and the lowest of men. The boy had seen too much, like he himself had at that age. He wished he’d had the vicious determination Shen Yuan showed so easily, wished he hadn’t waited for Qi-ge so long. If only he’d dealt with Qiu Jianluo sooner, gelded him in his sleep and run off years earlier.
“Agreed,” he replied, with a serious nod. “I would never touch a child in that way, so your threat – while completely understandable – is unnecessary. I would in fact never touch anyone who was unwilling; you can ask any of the jiejies here what they think of me. They have known me for years. Tell them your fear and demand an honest answer, and they will give it to you. I don’t even touch the women here; I visit for music and literal companionship, not sex. Ask them.”
The child looked thrown, clearly not expecting his response. “Huh. Well… they do say you’re kind,” he admitted quietly.
He visibly rallied and quickly listed more and more demands, pushing the limits as any smart child would. “Still… I want it to be clear that I also don’t want to be beaten. Or whipped – none of that in any way. Also, I want regular meals, even if you think I’ve misbehaved. And my own room – a proper room in your house. And you have to call me Yuan... and I want calligraphy lessons and plenty of books.”
“Easy enough, I suppose. I will need to think about alternate punishments. Writing lines or running laps, perhaps. I’m sure sooner or later you’ll get into some kind of trouble. Try not to stab my sect siblings unless they really deserve it, Shen Yuan.”
“Huh… Okay. I suppose I’d better hear about this cover story scheme of yours,” Shen Yuan said, as he inched out from behind the desk.
Shen Jiu waited patiently and his stillness eventually lured the child over to have his meridians checked – a very promising talent, as his ‘son’ should be! – while he explained his hastily dreamt-up scheme at length.
“That will ruin your sect leader, if it works,” Shen Yuan said, at the end of his explanation.
“Do you care, when it could gain you so much to your own benefit?” Shen Jiu replied bluntly. “Yue Qingyuan won’t be physically harmed, just humiliated.”
Despite all that was on offer, the foolish child still hesitated. “Tell me why you want to sink his reputation so badly, tell me why you hate him when I have heard he dotes on you. Tell me why, if you want my fullest cooperation instead of the bare minimum.”
So he did. He spoke of his history as a slave and a street child, of Qi-ge and his promise, the Qiu manor, and Wu Yanzi. The whole story spilt out of him, and it was like lancing a boil to have it all understood, to see that child with the old soul and hard eyes soften at his tale. As he watched, that wary expression shifted into sympathy and then anger on his behalf, and it soothed something inside of him to witness it.
It was a marvellous thing to see how that tiny reflection of himself turned to him in the end and said with crude sympathy, “That’s some fucking bullshit backstory right there. No wonder you’re spitting mad at him. At the world. I suppose I would be too. If you ever take your anger at all that bullshit out on kids I can and will judge you for it though. People being abusive to you doesn’t mean it’s okay for you to do it to others in turn. But revenge on the guy who abandoned you? Yeah. Fuck that guy. I’m in. Let’s make him pay.”
“You swear a lot, A-Yuan. Son.”
“…Do you care? I’ve had a pretty shitty life so far and sometimes I’m all out of niceness and swearing helps me cope. And I think your life was even worse and that deserves some cursing too.”
He shrugged. “So long as you can still speak politely when we’re in public, and you don’t direct your venom at me, I don’t care in the slightest.”
A-Yuan smiled. “Then we have a deal. Baba.”