Chapter Text
Wei Qingwei sighed as he sat back in his seat, mentally rearranging the rest of his day in response to the note his young disciple had just delivered to him, announcing Shen-shixiong’s intentions to visit Wan Jian peak at the end of lunch hour– meaning, within the shichen. Although he held no personal ill-will towards his acerbically sharp-tongued and short-tempered shixiong, he also couldn't begrudge those of his martial siblings who did. And, he could admit, no one tested his famously easy-going personality quite like Shen Qingqiu. He, of course, was happy to be of service to his martial siblings, he just preferred to be shown the courtesy of being asked for his help, rather than being informed that it was to be imposed upon.
He had heard the rumors, of course. Everyone had. It seemed every time he got together with Liu-shidi and Qi-shimei there was something new going around. Liu Qingge would sneer about catching Shen-shixiong coming from the brothel again, and Qi-shimei would gnash her teeth as she recalled seeing the Qing Jing peak lord being overly affectionate with his female disciples– or even sometimes, heaven forbid, one of the Xian Shu disciples. Those days, he almost felt the need to prepare himself for news to come out the next morning of the Qing Jing peak lord’s suspicious untimely demise. He thought the only thing holding Qi-shimei back was that she knew Yue Qingyuan would never speak to her again if she in any way harmed his Qingqiu-shidi, and he knew she was somewhat enamored with him. Had been, since their disciple days.
Ever since his most aloof shixiong had been brought to the sect by Zhangmen-shixiong, Wei Qingwei had an image of Shen Qingqiu painted for him by others as a spoiled young master who never needed to nor cared to work for anything in his life, instead preferring to find shortcuts and waste away his cultivation on carnal pleasures.
Shen-shixiong had never outright denied any of these rumors, though Wei Qingwei had also never seen any evidence to their veracity with his own eyes, so he at least tried to reserve his judgment.
That didn’t mean that he did not still generally find the man exceedingly unpleasant to be around.
With his lips pursed slightly in frustrated annoyance, he quickly wrote out a message to Mu Qingfang, informing him that he would be unable to make their planned meeting for tea that afternoon, and to please inform him of his availability for the rest of the week, then sent his disciple off to Qian Cao to deliver it, asking the young man to return as soon as he was done so he could prepare tea for he and his arriving Shen-shibo as well.
As he waited for Shen Qingqiu to arrive at the peak, he headed to the Jade Sword Hall, where his peak kept all of the especially ancient or dangerous or rare blades. It was located just next to the spirit sword caves, encompassed within the same strong containment array, and it housed such rare swords as HongJing, who could detect resentful and malicious spirits, and YanZhen, who could detect prenatal jing energy. It was YanZhen in particular that he had happened to be cleaning and polishing when his disciple made their presence known, Shen Qingqiu trailing in behind him.
Of course, when YanZhen lit up in his hand, he was not at all surprised. After all, the disciple who had led Shen Qingqiu to the Jade Sword Hall, Guo Chengli, was only thirteen years old. It would be more concerning if the sword had not lit up.
“Chengli,” he gave his young disciple a warm smile, “could you go make sure Anzuo has finished preparing refreshments for these masters? We will be making our way to my office momentarily, so please meet us there.”
The young boy bowed, giving a cheerful “This disciple obeys!” before turning around and nearly diving off the mountain with how recklessly he jumped onto his sword to fly off.
Shen Qingqiu turned to him with an eyebrow raised in what was probably as close as he would allow himself to come to incredulity.
Wei Qingwei chuckled good-naturedly, “Wan Jian disciples above all else focus their cultivation on understanding the soul bonds made between cultivators and their spiritual weapons. They learn to fly even before they learn their first set of sword forms.”
Shen Qingqiu hummed in neutral acknowledgement, “Wei-shidi has great trust in his young disciples.”
With his typical disinterested tone of voice, it was impossible to tell whether this had been said in praise or admonishment.
He pushed on. “Shen-shixiong mentioned interest in procuring a spiritual battle fan, yes? This shidi has a few pieces here that I can grab, and shixiong can show me the specifics of what he was thinking.”
“Mn.” Shen-shixiong nodded in agreement, and Wei Qingwei did not grumble about his friendliness being met with the picture of haughty indifference.
‘What have I ever done to you, Shen-shixiong?’ he cried to himself, ‘Aren’t you tired of being so grumpy all the time? … Maybe I should sic a few pangolins on him? Could shixiong possibly stay so detached in such a situation?’
With that, he left the room and ventured through the halls towards the back of the compound, where lay the chamber with the moisture-control array, where more fragile weapons like fans and ribbons were kept. He grabbed a few of the hand fans more geared towards spiritual cultivators that seemed as if they might be more to his shixiong’s aesthetic tastes before heading quickly back, keeping in mind his shixiong’s tendency to get snappish when he felt impatient or inconvenienced.
However, after he made his way back to the sword hall’s front chamber where he had left his shixiong, what he saw when he stepped back into the room made him freeze in momentary incomprehension.
Shen Qingqiu stood in the center of the room, fanning himself lazily as he peered at the swords laid out on the desk Wei Qingwei used for sword maintenance. There were three swords laid unsheathed on a drying rack as he allowed the polish to settle, each one more exceptionally unique and beautifully-crafted than the last. The only sword Wei Qingwei’s brain was allowing him to register at the moment, however, was YanZhen.
The blade was glowing just as brightly as it had been with Chengli present, and thinking back, Wei Qingwei realized he didn’t remember the glow ever fading after Chengli had left. Still, he took a moment to glance around the chamber, thinking perhaps he would find another presence which had somehow previously evaded his detection. However, even when he spread out his spiritual senses, probing for any others nearby, he found no one else around even within approximately half a li.
So, then. It appeared Shen Qingqiu, the supposed great lecher of Qing Jing peak, was, in fact, a virgin. Or, at least, was still in possession of his prenatal jing, which meant he had never, ah, given.
Finding himself utterly unprepared for this revelation, all he could manage to say when he finally pulled himself back to the present was a dumbfounded, “huh.”
At the noise, Shen Qingqiu looked up at him, traces of curiosity still evident in his gaze which had just been focused on the spirit blades. It made him look… almost soft. Well, softer, at least. It highlighted just how pretty the man was, anyway.
“Ah, Wei-shidi,” he greeted, the faint traces of emotion slipping away once more as his mask of cold and distant politeness came back up. “Why does this one glow?” he asked, pointing to YanZhen.
He blinked. ‘... How can I possibly answer that??’ he thought to himself a bit hysterically, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. ‘Ah, Shen-shixiong, haha. Why do I feel like if I tell you the truth, you might try to stab this poor shidi into silence?’
“Ah, it lights up in the presence of yang energy,” he hedged, settling on an almost half-truth. He held up the qiankun pouch now full of spiritual tools as he walked past his shixiong and towards the door, absolutely not fleeing the situation. “I’ve got quite the selection prepared for you, shall we head to my office before our tea gets cold?”
Shen Qingqiu huffed, straightening his posture and turning away from the sword-laden desk.
“Are your disciples unable to manage even a simple heating talisman?” he quipped, with just the vaguest hint of a sneer. Yet, despite saying so, he easily followed as Wei Qingwei began to lead them towards the front of the hall.
Wei Qingwei for some reason couldn’t hold back a small snicker. Immediately, he held up his hands in playful mock surrender as he earned a glare from the other peak lord. “Haha, sorry! It’s just, I never noticed before, but shixiong is actually quite funny, isn’t he?”
He grinned, despite himself, suddenly unable to find any threat behind the other’s narrow-eyed stare. He was simply too amazed at his discovery! It itched at his heart! His ice-cold beauty of a shixiong was actually a misunderstood white lotus?? Well, if you ignored the other rumors of cruel punishments against his disciples and attempted murder against his martial brother, that was.
Still! Didn’t that mean the poor scholarly beauty had been constantly wronged by his martial siblings? Didn’t this give his snark the impression of a milk cat waving its young claws? Fiercely hissing and scratching but in the end leaving only surface level damage?? He couldn’t help being somewhat charmed! Ah, this was why Mu Qingfang criticized him as a ‘dangerously hopeful’ romantic, he supposed.
When Shen Qingqiu did nothing more in response to Wei Qingwei’s playful sarcasm than flick his sleeves and snap his fan shut with a roll of his eyes before hopping onto his sword and pulling ahead to lead the way to Qingwei’s office, he felt like someone who had just successfully solved an algebraic equation for the first time. Or, maybe, someone who realized their cakes had been coming out like shit because they had been baking with salt instead of sugar.
Or, maybe, someone who realized that now that his standoffish shixiong was actually most likely not a self-sabotaging-ly lecherous pervert– his mildly caustic bearing really seemed somewhat endearing! Heart-breakingly tragic, sure… but, also, kind of adorable!
As they flew in silence, he wondered abstractedly how it might feel to have his martial siblings falsely believe he had improper designs on his own young disciples, and felt his amusement begin to dim. He couldn’t imagine being subjected to such misunderstanding and just– not doing anything to correct it? Did his shixiong think his martial siblings unwilling to hear him out? Although… When he imagined Shen Qingqiu really trying to just say that to Liu Qingge or to Qi Qingqi or to Lin Qingshui… Even to Yue Qingyuan, despite the seeming favoritism…
Well, people didn’t tend to actually listen to the Qing Jing peak lord, did they? Wei Qingwei himself, he knew, was absolutely also guilty of this. Even being familiar with Xiu Ya’s spirit and the aura of controlled perseverance and righteous fury it gave off, he hadn’t completely trusted it to be a true reflection of its master’s own soul. That did sometimes happen, after all, though not usually with such a high-grade blade.
Ah, it seemed he would have to do something about this himself, since he had happened to discover the truth of the matter. Shen Qingqiu might be his shixiong, but Wei Qingwei was still a couple of decades his elder! It would be dishonorable of him to ignore the plights of the younger generation!
Plus, Shen Qingqiu had shown such genuine curiosity towards his swords– a huge point in the other's favor as far as he was concerned!
As he flew behind his shixiong, examining this new world view he had accidentally stumbled upon, he wondered what other rumors could similarly be so outrageously untrue. And, he wondered which other swords he could leave lying out in his shixiong’s vicinity which might provide him with some more insight…