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“-and then she jumped off the cliff.”
“Mm hm.”
“And she died when she hit the water, with no chance of ever being reunited with her lover, the end.”
“Great.”
Shang Qinghua sighed and slumped back in his seat. “Bro, you’re not even listening to me!”
His sudden raised voice was apparently enough to draw Shen Qingqiu out of whatever messy thoughts he’d been trapped in, though of course he couldn’t just admit that he’d gotten lost in thought. “As if anyone could pay attention to the drivel you call writing!” he snapped.
Shang Qinghua rolled his eyes and reached out to grab another handful of watermelon seeds from the bowl on the table. Shen Qingqiu smacked his hand with his closed fan, but it wasn’t even hard enough to sting, which was as good as giving permission. “Seriously, though, what’s on your mind? Unlike some people, I’m a good listener,” he couldn’t help pettily tacking on at the end.
Shen Qingqiu snapped his fan open to cover his face, as allergic as ever to letting people see that he might actually have feelings. “What do you think is on my mind? Have you already forgotten about the situation we’re in?”
Being reminded of the imminent danger facing the both of them once Luo Binghe got free from the Abyss was a very efficient mood killer. Shang Qinghua couldn’t help deflating somewhat as he sank back in his seat. “Ahah, right. That.”
There was silence between them for a moment before Shen Qingqiu was surprisingly the first one to speak. “How about you?”
Shang Qinghua blinked once in surprise. “How about me, what?”
Shen Qingqiu narrowed his eyes in annoyance. “How are you dealing with all of this?”
It looked like it did some serious damage to Shen Qingqiu to even ask a genuine question about Shang Qinghua’s wellbeing, and it honestly warmed his heart at indication that his fellow transmigrator really did care about him (even if obviously no one could ever replace Luo Binghe’s position as Number 1 in Shen Qingqiu’s heart). “Honestly, I just try not to think too much about it. At this point, whatever’s going to happen, will happen. I always knew where everything was going to lead once the System forced me to become Shang Qinghua. And you obviously knew what Shen Qingqiu’s fate was always going to be.”
Shen Qingqiu slowly lowered his fan until it was resting on the edge of the table, a small frown on his face. “It hardly seems fair, does it? Giving us another chance at life only to give us no way to change the fates of the characters we got stuck as.” They both paused for a moment and looked off to the side out of habit, half-expecting the System to suddenly pop up and provide a punishment for shit-talking it. But of course it was still in hibernation mode.
“Hey, speaking of,” Shang Qinghua said after the moment stretched out for just a little too long, trying to shift away from such a gloomy topic. “I don’t think we’ve ever really talked about our previous lives. Obviously you know I was a writer, and I know you were a reader, but other than that, we hardly know anything about each other.”
Shen Qingqiu tilted his head curiously. “Is any of that even relevant anymore? It was literally in another life.”
Maybe it was for the best to leave all of that in the past. Especially for Shang Qinghua, when it had been decades since he’d woken up in the world of Proud Immortal Demon Way.
He must have looked particularly pathetic at that moment, because Shen Qingqiu sighed once before saying, “I didn’t do anything of note in that life. I was content to live an easy life off of my family’s wealth. My older brothers- I had two of them- tried to get me involved in the family business, but I had no interest.”
“Two siblings, huh? That’s a lot.”
One corner of Shen Qingqiu’s mouth ticked up into a fond little smile. “Three, actually. I had a younger sister as well.”
Shang Qinghua tried to picture what it would be like to grow up in a house with four Shen Qingqiu’s in it, but found it too difficult to imagine. “I was an only child.”
“Did you-?” Shen Qingqiu started to ask before cutting himself off to clear his throat. He took a long sip of his tea before continuing. “Did you have any particular interests outside of your writing?”
Shang Qinghua snorted. “As if there would be time to do anything else. You kept up with PIDW, you know how much I was writing.”
“Ten thousand words of bullshit a day,” Shen Qingqiu said with an almost teasing lilt to his voice. It was a far cry from his usual harsh criticism, and Shang Qinghua wondered what was different. He wasn’t going to push his luck by actually questioning it out loud, though.
He just nodded in agreement. It’s not like he could really argue, anyways, not when he knew that PIDW was not his best work no matter how popular it had gotten. “Actually, there was one thing I enjoyed doing. When I could occasionally mooch off of someone else’s membership, I liked to go swimming at the local gym.”
The dubious arched eyebrow sent his way probably should have been offensive. “You were athletic?”
“Hey, I never said I was good at it!” Shang Qinghua immediately said, laughing a little, both at himself and the absurdity of this conversation in the first place. Then he settled down and was able to speak in a more serious voice. “It was just… calming. Peaceful. Sometimes I wouldn’t even do laps, I would just float on my back and close my eyes and not think about deadlines or late bills or some jackass nitpicking every little detail of the latest chapter. Those were probably the only times where I felt like I could really breathe.” He tossed another handful of seeds in his mouth just to have something to do, suddenly finding it difficult to meet Shen Qingqiu’s eyes. “Sorry, that probably sounded lame, just ignore me.”
He expected some witty rejoinder, or even just an agreement that it was lame, so when no words came, Shang Qinghua was a little surprised. He forced himself to look properly at Shen Qingqiu again, and saw a very pensive look on his fellow peak lord’s face. “Bro?” he prompted a little nervously.
Shen Qingqiu blinked once. “I never-”
Whatever he was about to say was cut off by a young voice calling out, “Shizun!”
Shen Qingqiu sighed, and then the animation was quickly wiped from his face, replaced by the placid, calm peak lord that he had gotten so good at playing. “Duty calls,” he said, almost apologetically, before gracefully rising to his feet. It really was unfair how this man had managed to make it all look so easy, when Shang Qinghua had been here for so much longer and still constantly fumbled around. “I’m sure you can see yourself out.”
Shang Qinghua reached out to grab one last handful of watermelon seeds before getting up and heading out. Shen Qingqiu rolled his eyes. “At this point, you may as well just take the whole bowl.” Shang Qinghua decided to take him up on that, and quickly snatched it up before hurrying to get outside before he could discover whether Shen Qingqiu was just being sarcastic or not.
As he left the little bamboo house, a disciple dressed in Qing Jing’s colors headed inside, and Shang Qinghua could hear, “Shizun, whatever happens next, don’t listen to those fools, they just-” and then the door closed the rest of the way behind him. Shang Qinghua couldn’t help chuckling as he shook his head and hopped onto his sword to make the trip back to An Ding. He was just grateful that the kids he had to deal with never seemed nearly as lively as Shen Qingqiu’s bunch.
,,,
After Shen Qingqiu left to go get married (and Shang Qinghua still couldn’t believe how far the protagonist had been bent from the original story!), Shang Qinghua returned to An Ding Peak. He was still technically a traitor, but at this point the matter was moot, seeing as Cang Qiong was now willing to work with demons anyways (or at least tolerate their presence enough that Shen Qingqiu would be willing to return on occasion with his new husband).
The amount of paperwork piled up on his desk was to be expected, considering how long he’d been away from the sect at this point, but there was also a package sitting innocuously amongst the stacks.
Shang Qinghua had never been particularly patient when it came to gifts, and he hurried to unwrap it, pulling the twine loose so that he could rip the paper away. He was left holding a set of blue underrobes made out of a strange shiny material. Inspecting the fabric closer, Shang Qinghua realized that the robe was made from the scales of an Everlasting Peacock Shark, which meant that they wouldn’t become sodden and heavy when submerged in water. In other words, a perfectly suitable PIDW equivalent of a bathing suit.
As he went to refold the robe, he heard the rustle of paper, and he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion until he finally noticed the little slip of paper tucked amongst the folds of the fabric.
It was a very brief note, reading only, ‘For when you need to breathe’ with no signature at the bottom. The writing was recognizable enough, though, from the amount of times Shen Qingqiu had submitted requisition and repair forms. Shang Qinghua smiled as he sat down at his desk, suddenly finding all of the backlogged work to be much less overwhelming.