Chapter Text
It brought Shen Yuan no small amount of happiness that he got to live a slow, easy life after death. Not that he hadn’t already lived an easy life beforehand, being the youngest son of a comfortable family in a first world country. And it wasn’t that he had expected to have a hard time after dying. In fact, he had no expectations for death at all. Maybe a void? Nothingness? He hadn’t given it much thought. He wasn’t all that old when he died, so he hadn’t reached the stage of constant, expectant pondering that the elderly seem to get to.
His age was what that thing–the System–cited as the reason for his second chance. It wasn’t given to everyone, but a lucky few young, unremarkable deaths got to be sent to another world with a lifestyle of their choice. Shen Yuan was not ambitious or active or overly idealistic, so he asked for a slow, easy life. One that he could have time to read and relax in, one without excessive obligation or stress.
The System had chirped and granted his request, sending him to the Three Realms with several months worth of food, a small house, a spiritual affinity for plants, and a shelf of thick books detailing the world he was placed into. It was a pretty sweet deal.
Shen Yuan spent the next however-long living idyllically. He read, he foraged, he messed around with his plant magic (!), he read some more. The sun rose and set without remark. He never grew bored and, oddly, the solitude never bothered him. The land he was placed in was full of spiritual beasts, some of which allowed him to approach and study them. Some even became something like companions, bringing him their catches for the day and napping next to him in his garden. He didn’t bother tracking the time. Why bother confronting a second death? His mortality was none of his concern. No need to taint such a fortunate lifestyle with past-life concerns like that.
***
Second-life Entrant #21438
Name: Shen Yuan
World: Three Realms, 98th edition.
Life-style Package: Peace and Love on Planet Earth! Grants: Beginner’s Survival Package, Spiritual Energy, 100-years of Solitude
Traits: Plant-Affinity, Beast Tamer, The Scholar, Eternal Youth*
* Indicates a bonus ability granted external of The System. The assigned System should be sure to read applicant details carefully and inform applicant of all granted traits, including bonuses.
The System, which had been happily reviewing its paperwork, proud of a job well done, beeped in alarm. [ Oops! ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;) ]
***
Luo Binghe knew he shouldn’t have trusted that quivering, cowardly slimeball Shang Qinghua. He had blown through all the missions that the sect had available. Every beast was slain, every maiden was rescued, every treasure was retrieved, and he was back to being bored and restless. Mobei-jun, after bearing with his misery for several days, pointed him to the rodent-like secondary administrator of the logistics peak. He, Mobei-jun claimed, always knew of something off the books. Some beast no one had ever heard of, some un-plundered dungeon, some scheme against the Emperor that even the best of their spies had not heard whispers of yet. Lo and behold, after an hour of threats, Shang Qinghua had coughed up some rumor about a flock of wyverns south of the mountains. Take a boat and circle around the coast, since the mountains were far too treacherous. Here’s a contact to a merchant–please get out of my office!
Luo Binghe found the merchant, boarded the ship with ease (regional fame has its benefits) and to the wyverns he went. Except, he didn’t. The merchant’s ship was small, poorly maintained, dirty. The crew were all drunks, the navigator a dimwit, and the rest simply uninspiring company. When the skies began to turn a deep, ominous grey, everyone shrugged their shoulders. The merchant had given him a wide, gap-toothed, cavity-ridden grin and assured him that “this fine ship has beaten every storm it's met! The honorable Luo Binghe needn’t worry!”
And then the waves crested high, higher than the ship’s tallest mast. Lightning cracked violently, mercilessly, and thunder rumbled at such a volume that Binghe questioned if the world itself was cracking open. Everyone was running about the deck, drenched, screaming, and Binghe had run up and seized the wheel, hands slipping desperately over soggy wood as gravity began to pull and pull and a dark, bubbling wall of water began to rise and rise and then–
***
Shen Yuan was having a very pleasant day, as was typical. He was engrossed in studying the newest creature he had happened upon. It was nowhere to be found in the bestiary the System had given him. How a hedgehog the size of a shopping cart with spikes made of ice had been missed by the original researchers, he wasn’t sure, but it was a sweet creature that allowed him to poke and prod at it in exchange for the fruits he grew. He was in the process of trying to coax it to put its spikes to use–if that was a thing it could do–when he noticed a large group of fire-feathered buzzards circling over the beach.
Buzzards, especially the fire-feathered variety, were a great indicator that some creature had probably fallen. This was how Shen Yuan studied the larger, more violent spiritual beasts without having to fight them himself. Though a series of past incidents had proven he was capable of it, he was really much too lazy and would rather avoid them until they met their natural end. He hoped it was another dragon–dragons were timelessly cool. Impossible to beat a giant reptile!
With an inconsistent, happy hum, Shen Yuan effortlessly navigated the woodland that separated his home from the beach. He hadn’t made any trails, despite his time here. He simply asked the plants to move out of the way for a moment, then allowed for them to return once he passed. Plants, as a general rule, were very obedient if treated politely. Though, occasionally the vines at the very edge of the woodland would get playful and play goalie for a few minutes before allowing him through. They repeat this routine today, and Shen Yuan finally pops out into the sun with an amused smile, scanning the shoreline for the buzzards’ target until–
That is not a dragon.
On the shore was a vaguely ship-shaped pile of planks with broken crates, rotting food, salt-crusted sales and limp bodies strewn about it. Shen Yuan had never encountered any proof of other human life in his time here. He had assumed it existed, since being granted an entire planet to himself seemed unrealistic, but he had never seen any roads, heard of any towns, met any natives. It was just him. And now, here was this ship.
He quickened his pace, walking awkwardly over the sand, and began checking the bodies. Dead, dead, dead. The whole area reeked. He combed through the debris, tried to peer inside the body of the ship, before wrapping around to the other side. Dead, dead, definitely dead, until finally, he had reached the last body. This one was dressed differently–the rest had been in worn brown leather and linen that screamed practicality. This man wore robes–good quality ones–in deep black and vibrant red. His torso bore an elaborate belt, and a sword was strapped to his waist. Shen Yuan held his hand beneath the man’s nose, dispirited. Then: a gentle puff of air, just barely detectable. Alive.
Quickly, Shen Yuan shifted around to hook his arms through the man’s armpits, in a futile attempt to drag him. Too heavy. He looked around, back and forth, there’s no one to help, how am I supposed to get him– the vines waved their deep, glassy leaves sporadically. Right. He has magic. With a wave of his hand, the vines stretch across the beach and begin wrapping around the unconscious man, lifting his entirety just a few inches off the ground. Observing, Shen Yuan chided:
“Careful, not too tight.”
The vines seemed to release an irritated sigh, but visibly loosened around the man’s chest and neck. With one last survey for security, Shen Yuan gestured them along and began leading them back to his house.
***
Luo Binghe was warm, dry, and dozing, so deeply lost in sleep that he’s sure he spent hours in that half-aware state before it finally occurred to him: He’s not dead.
Shooting up from his bed–a bed, he’s in a bed, how did he get in a bed? – Luo Binghe takes in his surroundings, panicked. He is not dead and he is in a room, in a bed, and there’s a window and outside the window are flowers, so many flowers. There’s a side table next to him with a glass of water and a plum. He ignores it and hurriedly gets up, taking stock of his condition. He’s sore, he’s been left in his underrobes, but his outer robes, belt, and sword are missing. There is no one in the room with him. He’s in a room. He needs to get out of the room.
Jumping to the door, conscious thought thrown to the wind, he finds it unlocked and dashes out, taking an instinctual turn towards the lighter end of the house–he’s in a house–and taking quick, long strides into a kitchen; a kitchen with a window, stove, counters, a table, there’s a man at the table. Panic curdling into rage, Luo Binghe stops at the entrance, ready to attack, or scream, or something, he’s not really sure yet.
“You–!”
Soft, green eyes look up into his and long, inky hair slides like water over sharp, scholarly shoulders. Luo Binghe’s voice leaves him. The man smiles, small, thin-lipped, but clearly sincere.
“You’re awake, I’m glad,” he closes the book he’d been reading–because he’d been reading, how had Binghe not noticed? And stands. “I’ve cleaned your outer robes, so they’re still drying, but your sword is in the chest over there. Are you feeling alright?”
Luo Binghe blinked. “My sword?”
The man nodded. “Yes, I figured you might want it, but I didn’t want you to injure yourself when you woke. You were in a nasty accident.”
“Accident?”
“Yes, the shipwreck–Ah…” thin eyebrows pull gently together, perturbed, “Do you remember what happened? I suppose you may have hit your head… I didn’t see any injuries, but perhaps–”
Luo Binghe shook himself. Right. The wreck, the ship, the wyverns, that damn Shang Qinghua. “I’m fine, I remember. My sword?”
“Oh, good, yes, over there,” the man points with a fine-boned hand to an unlocked chest in the corner.
Luo Binghe goes to the chest as briskly as he can manage without looking fanatic. He feels offput, the shock of not finding a threat and instead finding… finding something has thrown him off kilter. The chest opens easily and there lies Xin Mo, unscathed (unsurprisingly), it and its scabbard wrapped carefully in white silk and laying on a bed of potatoes.
He looks up, baffled. “Potatoes?”
The man fluttered, turning away and brought his fist to his mouth as if he were covering a cough. “Yes, well, I didn’t want to leave it laying out, but I only have so many chests…”
Binghe nodded, still puzzled. Who has spare silk but only chests of potatoes for storage? However, it struck him that this is probably the least of his concerns and his ebbed suspicion returned.
“Who are you? Where am I? Why did you bring me here?” He stood to his full height and clenched Xin Mo at his side, not removing it from its sheath, but keeping the option open.
The man blinked, then straightened himself–though he did so politely, not to rise to Binghe’s challenge. “How rude of me, I’m sure you’re very confused,” he reached out a hand and just slightly tilted his head to the side, “I’m Shen Yuan. You’re in my house. I’m not sure where we are map-wise, I haven’t encountered anyone else since I’ve been here.”
No one else? There were very few areas in the Three Realms quite that secluded. Other than the Abyss and some of the more inhabitable parts of the Demon Realm.
“May I know your name?” The man, Shen Yuan, waved his outstretched hand a bit, just enough to bring Luo Binghe’s attention to it.
Binghe took it, initially attempting to shake firmly but finding Shen Yuan’s grip too gentle to do so smoothly. “I am Luo Binghe.”
He waited for the shock of recognition to appear, the awe, the crumbs of fear, but none of it came. Shen Yuan simply pulled his hand away, still pleasant. “Nice to meet you, Luo Binghe. You’re welcome to stay while you recover. I’ve got to tend to the garden, if you don’t mind. Please rest some more.”
He gathered his closed book under his arm and departed, leaving Binghe standing alone in the kitchen, knuckles white around his sword.