Work Text:
Shen Qingqiu couldn’t stop crying.
It was a new problem, one he’d never had before.
Usually, it was the other way around, with Shen Qingqiu’s eyes remaining as dry as a desert even through the worst experiences of his life.
He hadn’t cried when he’d broken his leg for the first time, when he’d been beaten unconscious, when he’d been whipped until his back had started to bleed profusely, when he’d been starved until he couldn’t even stand, he hadn’t wanted to give Qiu Jianluo the satisfaction.
He hadn’t cried when his big sister in everything but blood had died, hadn't cried when the slavers had dragged her away to be the servant of a man old enough to be her grandfather, hadn’t cried when he’d found her body on the street months after she’d been sold, her arms clutched protectively around her swollen belly, he hadn’t seen the use, she would still be dead either way.
He hadn’t cried when he’d found his Qi-ge once more, hadn’t cried when he’d seen his brother wear clothes beyond Xiao Jiu’s imagination, hadn’t cried when he’d seen the traitor, resplendent in his own glory, stretch out a pitying hand to the slave child he’d deliberately abandoned, he hadn’t been able to get past his rage to get to his sheer misery.
He hadn’t cried then but he was crying now.
Liu Qingge was dying.
One second, there’d been a roar in the caves that had startled Shen Qingqiu out of his meditative trance, his lips tilting down into a frown at the inhuman growls that echoed throughout the crystalline structure.
Then the brute himself had appeared in front of him, his mouth set in an ugly snarl as he lunged for Shen Qingqiu, his hands aiming to rip off his neck.
Shen Qingqiu had fought back, of course he had, he always fought back, but he’d been severely limited in his options and he’d never been a match for the meathead that was Liu Qingge, let alone the raging bull that had been charging at him with bloodlust dripping from his eyes, and he’d had no choice.
He’d had no choice but to harm his fellow martial brother, he would’ve died if he hadn’t defended himself, but he’d underestimated his lunge and a single step had put him within the brute’s reach.
It hadn’t ended well for his ribs.
Or his right arm.
(Shen Qingqiu was lucky he was ambidextrous, it would’ve been a fatal injury otherwise.)
Really, his jaw hadn’t been faring well either.
The meathead had had a mean punch.
But it had meant that Shen Qingqiu could finally address Liu Qingge’s Qi deviation, he just had to do it before the barbarian clobbered him to death.
It had worked.
Until it had stopped working.
Because Shen Qingqiu had still had to fend off his brainless shidi’s attacks and the last time he’d been hurt this badly was in the Qiu Manor when that sadistic bastard had broken his knees and made him kneel and beg for mercy and the situation was getting better but it wasn’t getting better quickly and it had just been a second.
Just a single fucking second of distraction and his Qi had spiked dangerously and Xiu Ya had been an inch too close to Liu Qingge and-
And then Liu Qingge was dying.
He was convulsing in the slumped heap he’d fallen into and there was blood gushing from the wound in his side and his eyes were rolling back into his head and he was dying.
And Shen Qingqiu couldn’t stop crying.
Liu Qingge was dying and it was his fault and he’d never wanted to kill him despite everything pointing to the contrary and his Liu-shidi was dying.
Shen Qingqiu would have to carry his corpse to Qian Cao because he was dying, there’d be a funeral because he was dying, everyone would mourn him because he was dying and it was Shen Qingqiu’s fault.
They would mourn him.
Grief would settle into the very foundations of Cang Qiong and relations that were already strained would be broken and it would be a mess, strategically, for the sect’s general to die and Cang Qiong would lose a lot of power and Huan Hua was already a pain and there would be repercussions from the powerful Liu Family and Cang Qiong’s position in the world would become much more shaky and-
And yet, all of that was secondary when compared with the simple fact that his Liu-shidi was dying.
Because they would mourn him.
Shen Qingqiu would mourn him.
(Shen Qingqiu didn’t pretend to like Liu Qingge and he didn’t pretend that what Liu Qingge felt for him was anything more than disdain.
He also didn’t pretend that Shen Qingqiu would do anything less than mourn him.
Because Liu Qingge was good.
He was a brute and a meathead and he always took everything at face value but he was noble, valiant, courageous, chivalrous-
He was good.
Shen Qingqiu would mourn him because he was good, truly good.
Good people were rare and Shen Qingqiu would mourn him.)
Shen Qingqiu didn’t want to mourn him.
But he would because Liu Qingge was dying and it was Shen Qingqiu’s fault and Shen Qingqiu couldn’t stop himself from flooding the dying body in his grasp with his spiritual energy.
It was painful in a way that should have been alarming but wasn’t because Shen Qingqiu was used to pain and it was burning hot and freezing cold and it was powerful and it was sinking into his Liu-shidi’s body and sparks of purple lightning were running up his body and it might not be enough but it was everything Shen Qingqiu had in him.
It was everything Shen Qingqiu had in him and it was sinking into his Liu-shidi’s body and it was doing something but Shen Qingqiu didn’t know if what it was doing would be enough.
It was everything Shen Qingqiu had in him, he had nothing left to give, and so the world darkened until blissful sleep finally claimed him, his consciousness tapering until the only thing he could see was his Liu-shidi’s body and then he couldn’t even see that.
It was everything Shen Qingqiu had in him and he fell asleep to the image of his Liu-shidi.
It was everything.
But Shen Qingqiu didn’t know if it would be enough.
Liu Qingge jostled the body laying on top of him, his jaw clenched in an effort to not yell. “Oi, Shen Qingqiu, get off.”
Shen Qingqiu didn’t move.
Liu Qingge suppressed the spurt of panic that enveloped his chest.
Shen Qingqiu was still alive, he could feel his breath on his neck and he could feel his heart beating and he was alive.
There was no need to panic.
(The bruises and the odd angle to the arm draped over Liu Qingge’s chest and the gashes liberally covering his chest and-
And the memories that were startlingly clear even though Liu Qingge had been in the midst of a Qi deviation.)
“Get off!”
Liu Qingge only received a sleepy mumble in response.
The Bai Zhan Peak Lord sat up with difficulty, his face grimacing at the pain radiating from his side even as he continued to support the prone body of his shixiong.
Shen Qingqiu’s face was sleep soft, tranquility erasing the harshness that permeated his existence.
It was a sight that had never graced Liu Qingge’s eyes, not even after they’d gone on dozens of missions together.
(Especially not after Liu Qingge had refused to go on any quests with the traitorous scum after he’d been backstabbed in the one with the well.)
Liu Qingge looked away, his eyes roaming the cave as he did everything he could to ignore the man sleeping in his arms.
He tried to get up, his hand straining against the cave floor as he lifted Shen Qingqiu and himself off of the ground.
It didn’t work.
Liu Qingge collapsed, his eyes blurring from the pain that assaulted every nerve in his body.
He lay there, gasping on the floor as he tried to breathe through the pangs of fire coursing through his veins, his face sweaty and pale, his hands shaking and curling into fists.
He couldn’t get up, not if he had to carry Shen Qingqiu as well.
Liu Qingge scowled as he shook the man lying serenely on top of him. “Shen Qingqiu! Get up!”
A wrinkle formed on the Qing Jing Peak Lord’s brow, his peaceful sleep shattered by the actions of a brute, but he still wasn’t awake.
Liu Qingge paused, his hands dancing over Shen Qingqiu’s wrist before he grasped it firmly.
His spiritual energy probed into his shixiong’s spirit veins, circling through his body once before withdrawing into Liu Qingge.
Shen Qingqiu having low Qi reserves was an understatement.
It was like every single bit of his spiritual energy had been used up, his golden core barely stabilizing due to the fact that it just didn’t have enough energy to go into a Qi deviation.
It was a dangerous situation, Shen Qingqiu’s body was absorbing spiritual energy like a dry sponge and his Qi reserves were slowly, but surely, refilling themselves but waking him now would mean giving him conscious control over a needle when he was only used to handling swords and Liu Qingge couldn’t carry them both so either Liu Qingge would have to wake him up or he would have to leave him here, defenseless, in a cave system that was older than Cang Qiong itself.
Liu Qingge didn’t like either option.
But he had no other choice.
The War God of Bai Zhan was gentle when he lifted his shixiong off of his body, more gentle than he’d ever been with the one he considered scum.
It was easier, but still not easy, to get up when Liu Qingge was just supporting his own weight.
He staggered to the entrance of the cave, his hands grasping for his sword when he stumbled across it.
He used it as a cane after he grabbed it, his body leaning heavily against the steadfast blade as he made his way through the crystalline pathway.
It was the sound that made him stop in his tracks, a sound he heard when he was about ten paces away from his shixiong’s unconscious body.
It was a high-pitched whine, released through clenched teeth, desperation and pain heavily lacing the weak voice.
His voice.
The pain hit him not long after the sound did, his eyes screwing shut as he seemed to lose all the strength in his knees.
He lost his balance, his body slamming down onto the hard floors of the cave.
Liu Qingge rested his forehead against the hilt of his sword, his body leaning against the blade as he fought to keep himself from crying.
The pain lasted for an excruciating minute, a minute where he was breathless, a minute where all he could do was screw his eyes shut and suffer, a minute where it felt like all his organs were rebelling against him, a minute where Liu Qingge experienced a hell he’d never been able to imagine until it all stopped as suddenly as it had started.
Liu Qingge breathed deeply as he released his death grip on his sword, his figure relaxing until he leaned back on his heels.
He kept his eyes closed for a precious few seconds, uncaring of everything in his vicinity, even the warm hand resting against his shoulder.
“....you absolute moron.”
Or the voice quietly whispering breathy insults into his ear.
At least Shen Qingqiu was awake now.
They could figure out the rest later.
Mu Qingfang shouldn’t have felt nostalgia when he saw the bruised and beaten figures of his shixiongs.
Really, he was a doctor! He shouldn't have to force down a fond smile at the sight of his battered martial siblings!
But he couldn't help it!
It’d been a common sight, once upon a time.
Shen Qingqiu and Liu Qingge had never gotten along but there had been a time when their interactions had had an almost playful edge to them.
It was a long time ago, back when their relationship lacked the sheer animosity that they now flaunted to high heavens, but it was a welcome memory.
They used to do this often, hobble to Qian Cao on bruised legs after yet another tussle, begrudgingly helping each other so that they could slip in unnoticed to find him for treatment.
It was always accompanied by grumbles of irritation and sharp elbows flying into stomachs but it was the most amicable they ever were with each other.
It had stopped after the mission with the well.
Mu Qingfang didn’t know what had actually happened, Liu Qingge hadn’t told him the details, but he knew that it had been Shen Qingqiu’s fault.
And well, it was Shen Qingqiu.
Mu Qingfang didn’t mean to judge him, he was a doctor, he was supposed to be unbiased, but he was still human and the man was unpleasant to be around and Mu Qingfang could only guess at what he’d done to earn the wrath of the War God of Bai Zhan and each guess was more unpleasant than the last and Mu Qingfang was only human and Shen Qingqiu wasn’t his friend and so he’d taken a side.
It hadn’t been….obvious, necessarily.
But, well, if he made the medicine delivered specifically to Shen Qingqiu slightly more bitter, slightly more viscous, slightly more disgusting, if he was just a tad bit slower in attending to the Qing Jing resident, if he was just a tad bit rougher with his bandages, if he was just a tad bit more sloppy with his stitches then-
Then, well, it was something Shen Qingqiu deserved.
But Mu Qingfang was just glad that it all seemed to be behind the two Peak Lords as they supported each other across Qian Cao with nary a grumble.
He hoped it was, anyway.
Mu Qingfang frowned as he held a wrist in each hand, his eyes closed in concentration as he sent threads of his spiritual energy through each of his shixiongs in order to assess them.
Both showed signs of battered spirit veins and both had fluctuations in their Qi but it was Shen Qingqiu that was bothering Mu Qingfang.
The man looked exhausted, even more so than Liu Qingge, and the only thing that seemed to be keeping his spine straight was his determination because his spiritual energy was certainly not helping him, what with it being abysmally depleted. Mu Qingfang was honestly surprised that the Qing Jing Peak Lord hadn’t collapsed yet.
But that wasn’t even what was worrying Mu Qingfang.
His shixiong seemed....fractured, for lack of a better term.
His body was beaten up and bruised and broken and Mu Qingfang would get to that but his soul itself seemed to be cracked.
Liu Qingge was better, his wounds were mostly superficial, the stab wound had already been stitched up, and his spiritual energy was low but not horrendously so, and his soul was intact even if it seemed....weird.
Mu Qingfang had never seen a case like this before.
Mu Qingfang released Shen Qingqiu and Liu Qingge’s wrists. “Would you both stand up? And walk away from each other, slowly.”
Shen Qingqiu frowned as he took slow steps to the door of the infirmary, his unbroken hand clutched around his ribs.
Liu Qingge’s steps were more fluid, his pace even as he headed to the window at the back of the room.
There was not a flicker of emotion on either face as they stepped away from each other, their strides making a dull noise against the floor of the ward until they hit their fifth step.
There was a pause in their bodies, a sudden tensing of their backs before Liu Qingge crumpled to his knees, his body twitching before he let out a howl of pure agony.
Alongside him, Shen Qingqiu staggered, his hands falling on a table nearby to support his weight, his face pale and sweaty as he clamped his jaw shut, his eyes closing as his nostrils flared.
The Peak Lord of Qing Jing turned around without instruction from Mu Qingfang, his feet carrying him to Liu Qingge’s side with more steadiness than was warranted in his situation, his face grimacing at the pain that surely flowed through his body.
The scholar laid his hand on the warrior and instantly, there was quiet, with only a few gasps breaking through the oppressive silence that had descended upon the medic and his patients.
Mu Qingfang moved then, rushing to his shixiongs’ aid as he ushered them to their respective beds, making sure there was as little distance as possible between them.
The Peak Lord of Qian Cao moved closer to Shen Qingqiu’s bedside, his hands addressing the injuries that had painted his body into a bruise. “I have a theory, Shen-shixiong.”
“What is it?” spit out Shen Qingqiu through gritted teeth.
“I need to ask you a question first.”
Shen Qingqiu rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, get to it.”
“What did you feel, Shen-shixiong, when you helped Liu-shixiong through his Qi-deviation?”
Shen Qingqiu clenched his jaw. “Pain. Exhaustion.”
The pain couldn’t be a result of overtaxing one’s meridians, Mu Qingfang had checked them and they’d been fine. Bruised but fine.
Mu Qingfang turned to Liu Qingge. “Liu-shixiong, what do you remember feeling?”
“Cold and-” Liu Qingge hesitated. “Sad.”
“You remember then?”
“Mmn.”
That was highly unusual, especially after such a debilitating Qi deviation.
Mu Qingfang grimaced. “Shixiongs will not like my theory but I believe you’re both bound together now. Through your souls.”
Shen Qingqiu’s face smoothed out, his eyes becoming pieces of clear, green glass, calm and emotionless.
Liu Qingge, on the other hand, exploded. “What?! HOW?!”
Mu Qingfang sighed. “It seems like when Shen-shixiong saved you Liu-shixiong, he used a part of his soul. It explains the abnormalities in your souls, it explains the pain Shen-shixiong felt, and it also explains how Shen-shixiong was able to heal you, Liu-shixiong. Souls are powerful.”
Shen Qingqiu cut in, his eyes deep and unfathomable even when his voice was soft. “What are the repercussions of such an action, Mu-shidi?”
Mu Qingfang hesitated. “This shidi can’t be too sure but it will take a while for both of you to be able to live separately, your souls will probably need a lot of time to heal. There might be other symptoms as well, such as memory transference and emotional transferral. For example, Liu-shixiong probably remembers his Qi deviation due to the fact that Shen-shixiong was lucid while it was happening.”
“But will we heal?” asked Liu Qingge, his body tensing as it prepared to fight against whatever was causing it to panic.
“It-it might take a while, this really is very rare, This shidi has only ever heard of the possibility of this happening, but there’s no reason to think-”
“Mu-shidi has no idea, does he?” interrupted Shen Qingqiu.
“It-I-the chance of this merely being possible-”
“Mu-shidi doesn’t know,” said Shen Qingqiu, his head tilting back to rest against his pillow. “There’s no need to dilly dally when that is quite certainly the truth.”
Shen Qingqiu swung his legs over the side of his bed. “Well, no matter. It just means that this visit will be much shorter than this Shixiong initially anticipated.”
“Shixiong we still have much to discuss and you’re still-”
“There’s nothing left to discuss, this shixiong saved Liu-shidi’s life and, as always, this Shixiong was punished for it-”
“What do you mean, ‘as always’? This is literally the first-”
“Admittedly we’ll have to decide upon temporary living arrangements and schedules but that can come after we leave you to your actual patients. Mu-shidi, this shixiong will be taking his leave.”
“Shen-shixiong, you’re still injured-”
“This shixiong will be taking his leave, Mu-shidi.”
Liu Qingge was cold and he was sleeping on the ground and his stomach was rumbling like it had never been full before.
There was a warm hand carding through Shen Qingqiu’s hair, a soft palm caressing his cheeks as he drifted off to sleep in a lap clothed in silk.
Shen Qingqiu jerked awake in the middle of the night, his heart steady despite every rational nerve in his body telling him to be wary of the man sleeping ten paces away from him.
For the first time in weeks, Shen Qingqiu didn’t have to clamp his mouth shut against the screams that wanted to escape his throat, he didn’t have to breathe deeply through his nose so that he wouldn’t start to heave, he didn’t have to avert his eyes from the monsters that plagued him from beyond the land of the living.
For the first time in weeks, Shen Qingqiu was calm.
He hated it.
There was a man sleeping ten paces away from his body and it was still the best sleep he’d ever gotten on the damn peak since his discipleship and he hated it.
Liu Qingge was sleeping next to him, sprawled out over a makeshift cot in his bamboo house and Shen Qingqiu should’ve found it impossible to even close his eyes without panicking but his body had fallen asleep faster than a teenager surviving off of tea alone and he hated it.
He hated the fact that his body was calm, he hated the fact that he had to sleep near Liu-shidi, and he hated the fact that he was calm because of his Liu-shidi.
Shen Qingqiu wasn’t an idiot, he really wasn’t, and that dream hadn’t belonged to him.
The dream where he was cradled like he was worth something, the dream where he was held in strong arms that would protect him against the entire world if necessary, the dream where he was warm and comfortable and loved-
He hated it.
(He wanted it.)
It wasn’t his dream, it wasn’t his memory, and the only one it could belong to was sleeping in a cot next to him, absolutely dead to the world save for the wrinkle between his eyebrows and the frown on his face.
Shen Qingqiu had seen Liu Qingge’s memories and he hated it because it meant that Liu Qingge would see his own and, despite everything pointing to the contrary, Shen Qingqiu knew that his Liu-shidi was smart and it wouldn’t take him long to figure it out and then everything Shen Qingqiu had ever worked for would unravel beneath his feet like a spool of thread in a sea of blades and it wasn’t fair, he’d only tried to help, and he hated it.
He hated it.
He did.
(He wanted it.)
Liu Qingge woke up to a beam of sunlight shining its light directly into his eyes and he didn’t know how but he knew that it was Shen Qingqiu’s fault.
The Bai Zhan Peak Lord blinked, stretching out his limbs as he tried to remember where he was.
The memories came quickly, his brain kicking into overdrive as he scanned the room he’d never been allowed to see, the room he’d never wanted to see.
It was sparse, free of any of the more personal touches a bedroom could have, but it exuded a quiet luxury, one more understated but no less expensive than that of an emperor.
Liu Qingge scowled as he rolled his shoulders, his stomach reminding him that he hadn’t eaten in weeks, a fact that bothered him more than it used to.
(Cold, wet, hungry, shaking, hungry-)
He shook his head as he shoved the blankets off of his body, pausing when he saw Shen Qingqiu, immaculately dressed as always, sitting behind his desk with a pile of papers in front of his face.
“I need to get rea-”
“Your disciples have already delivered your clothes, Liu-shidi, and the bath is right behind my desk, do what you will but be quiet, I have work to do.”
Liu Qingge fought a hard battle to keep the irritation out of his voice when he spoke. He didn’t win. “What about bre-”
“My disciples will bring you breakfast.”
“Stop interrupti-”
Shen Qingqiu looked up from his papers, raising a single, slender eyebrow. “No.”
Liu Qingge moved to get off the bed. “Shen Qingq-”
The Qing Jing Peak Lord got up quickly and took a step back, his face palling drastically even as his body was as straight as an iron pole.
Liu Qingge, on the other hand, fell back to his bed, a gargled gasp strangling his throat as he howled in pain-
That disappeared as soon as it appeared.
Shen Qingqiu was kneeling in front of him, his palm pressed into Liu Qingge’s shoulder, his face pale and sweaty even as his features refused to contort with pain.
The apology spoken from thin, cracked lips was almost lost to the wind.
Almost.
Liu Qingge looked at the feast spread out before him, hesitating before he asked the disciple in front of him to get him more food.
There wasn’t enough on the table for two people even if Shen Qingqiu ate like a bird and it wouldn’t do for him to go hungry in his own house, especially when he was already injured.
Especially when Liu Qingge could still remember the cold seeping into his skin, could still remember how it felt when the pain, hunger, and fatigue covered him like a cloak, could still remember the dream he’d had last night.
It hadn’t belonged to him, not the fear nor the memory, Liu Qingge had never had to fear the cold, never had to fear hunger, so it could only belong to Shen Qingqiu and that.
That changed things.
Because Shen Qingqiu himself shouldn’t have had any reason to fear starvation, to fear winter, to fear death when he hailed from a noble family, but he did and it changed things.
(Shen Qingqiu had never flinched.
Not when he walked on bruised legs and breathed through broken ribs.
Not when Liu Qingge himself was screaming in agony.
And that also changed things.)
Liu Qingge didn’t know how much it changed things or even what it changed but it changed things.
The letter came a week after Shen Qingqiu had been bound to Liu Qingge.
Shen Qingqiu’s hands were shaking as he clutched at the perfumed papers, his breath stuttering until it stopped all together.
His grandmother-
“Liu-shidi,” said Shen Qingqiu, his eyes concentrating on the words in front of him. “We have to go to the brothel.”
His grandmother-
“What?! No! Have you no shame?!”
Shen Qingqiu looked up from the letter, his eyes bloodshot and fearful. “We need to go. Now.”
Shen Qingqiu held his grandmother’s frail hand as she spoke about her youth with a sort of melancholy that seemed to be reserved solely for the elderly and he tried to ignore the way his shidi kept boring holes into the back of his head.
Liu Qingge could wait.
His grandmother was-
Alive, alive and warm, alive and talking, alive and smiling, alive-
And bedridden.
It wouldn’t be long now, her age had caught up with her and it wouldn’t be long now.
Shen Qingqiu knew he would outlive her, knew it from the moment he walked into the brothel with haunted eyes and a bag of gold, knew it from the moment she smiled at him with all the warmth he’d never had in his youth and held him until the demons plaguing his mind went to rest.
She’d been old then and she was older now and she was more beautiful than any person from Xian Shu with the grace of an empress and she would die soon because time played a cruel game of tag with everyone it held in its embrace but she was alive and his Liu-shidi could wait.
(His doom could wait.
A new rumor would spread about how Shen Qingqiu was pathetic enough to clutch at a former prostitute like she was his only saving grace and he would be ridiculed even more than he was now and another one would arise soon after, about how he’d been cruel enough to kill every single male in the Qiu Manor when they’d only been doing their jobs and his doom would be presented to him in the same body as the one that held a part of his soul but that could wait.)
Shen Qingqiu brought the wrinkled hand in his hold up to his eyes, pressing his forehead against the wizened fingers as he closed his eyes to bask in the presence of his grandmother.
His grandmother.
Everything could wait.
Whips landing on his back, mercilessly tearing into it with the force of an ape.
Whips landing on his back when his knees were already bloody from the thorns he had been forced to kneel on.
Whips landing on his back when his ribs were already protesting every single breath he dragged into his body through desperation alone.
Whips breaking his body into smaller pieces than he could possibly put back together.
Liu Qingge stayed as still as possible when he woke up from his nightmare, his teeth pressing uncomfortably into his tongue as he tried to limit the amount of noise he made.
Shen Qingqiu had had an unfortunate habit of waking up at the slightest of sounds and while that had faded in the weeks they’d slept in the same room, it hadn’t diminished completely and Liu Qingge couldn’t risk waking him up, not when the man barely slept.
Not when Liu Qingge couldn’t face him, not after what he’d just been through.
Not after everything he’d learned.
Years had passed with Liu Qingge knowing next to nothing about his most hated shixiong, years he spent thinking his shixiong was lazy, spoiled, and lecherous.
It took mere weeks to change his entire perception of the paradox that was Shen Qingqiu.
He’d been lazy until Liu Qingge had seen him slave over his duties, every moment filled with paperwork he had to fill out, sketches he had to work on, essays he had to grade, instruments he needed to practice, correspondence he needed to monitor, letters he had to respond to, curriculums he needed to create, lessons he had to plan, demonstrations he had to organize, students he needed to supervise, work that he needed to do.
He’d been lecherous until Liu Qingge had seen him clutch the hand of a prostitute, the brothel madam, like it was a lifeline, his soft voice calling her grandmother with enough reverence to overwhelm the gods themselves.
He’d been a spoiled young master until the memories had shown him a life that seemed more fit for a heinous criminal.
Shen Qingqiu was lazy, spoiled, and lecherous scum until he wasn’t and Liu Qingge would do his best to make it up to him.
(So many debts he had to pay back, so many insults he had to make up for, so many slights he had to reverse, so much he had to do.)
And if he had to bite off his tongue to ensure that his shixiong would actually sleep to do so, then he would do it without hesitation.
An attack hitting a monster unseen by the person he’d saved from Death’s embrace.
Insults he’d received for daring to help.
Shen Qingqiu stared at the warm hand grasping his arm, his eyes blown wide open in confusion as he looked at a Liu Qingge that seemed almost desperate.
“Shixiong didn’t try to kill me, in that mission, I misunderstood, Shixiong d-didn’t try to kill me, I-this shidi is sorry, Shixiong-”
Shen Qingqiu gripped the hand on his arm but he couldn’t make himself push it away.
“Shixiong this shidi is sorry....”
The hand was warm.
Luo Binghe froze near the doorway, his heart pounding as he strained his ears to hear the conversation happening in the bamboo house.
On any other day he would’ve been caught, his shizun and his shishu were both powerful cultivators and they would’ve noticed his presence, but they’d just fought off a demonic invasion and they’d been weird ever since the infamous Qi Deviation.
As such, Luo Binghe shuffled closer to the window, his heart hammering against his chest despite the assurance that he wouldn’t be caught.
“....I can only attribute his weak cultivation to a lack of initiative, considering his parents were both powerful cultivators in their own right.”
“You know the boy’s parents?”
There was a pause in the conversation before his shizun spoke again. “In a sense, I don’t know his father, aside from the fact that he’s powerful, but I knew the boy’s mother, Su Xiyan-”
“Su Xiyan?”
“Yes, Liu-shidi, the previous Huan Hua head disciple, Now, as I was saying, Luo Binghe’s lack of cultivation can only be attributed to a lack of initiative-”
“Hang on, is that why you chose him for your peak? Because you knew his mother?”
“I did it because I owe his mother a favor-”
“So you didn’t do it to spite me?”
“You’re not that important, Liu-shidi-”
Luo Binghe held his hands behind his back, his head bowed in deference as traitorous hope filled his body.
His shizun was staring at his manual with a frown on his face, his slender fingers flipping through the dilapidated pages as his Liu-shishu looked at them over his shoulder.
It-his shizu-
His shizun had been confused when he’d spoken about Luo Binghe’s cultivation, actually confused, so maybe-
Maybe-
Maybe his shizun didn’t mean to destroy him.
“Who gave this manual to you?” asked his shizun, his voice cold and clear.
“Shizun?”
His shizun stared at him with piercing eyes. “Who was the one who handed you this manual?”
“M-Ming-shixiong, shizun,” stuttered Luo Binghe.
Luo Binghe stared in incredulous shock at the pristine cultivation manual in his hands.
It had all been a mistake, a misunderstanding.
Maybe his shizun wasn’t as bad as he seemed.
It was cold in the woodshed.
Liu Qingge was filthy and his body was covered in grime and his hair was matted and his stomach was aching in a way it had never ached before and his body was shivering even if it was a summer night.
He was filthy and he was tiny and he was in a secluded shed and his stomach was aching and his Qi-ge hadn’t come back yet.
He was supposed to come back, he was supposed to help him, he was supposed to save him but he was filthy and tiny and aching and his Qi-ge hadn’t come back yet.
He would come back, he was sure of it, but it would take time and Xiao Liu didn’t know if he could wait that long.
Because he was aching and he was filthy and he was bleeding and Miss Qiu had gone on a trip to the countryside but Qiu Jianluo had stayed back and he might die before his Qi-ge could come back to rescue him.
Xiao Jiu didn’t know if he could wait for his Qi-ge but he would try, he would try.
It was warm in the manor.
As warm as a raging fire.
Liu Qingge woke up with a gasp, his right hand gripping his stomach as he breathed through his mouth.
His left hand strayed to the hilt of his sword, his fingers clenching around its pommel before releasing it periodically.
He was on Qing Jing Peak, in the home of its Peak Lord, sleeping on a bed six steps away from the Xiu Ya Sword.
He wasn’t in a woodshed that belonged to a noble family that belonged in hell.
He was on Qing Jing Peak and he was sleeping near his shixiong.
Liu Qingge gripped his sword tightly, his body as tense as a taut bowstring, ready to fire at a moment’s notice.
The people in the memory had been truly vile and it just made his heart ache more for his shixiong who must’ve have been tortured by the scum that posed as nobility, as family, and it all made sense now, why his shixiong had the bearing of a noble with the experiences of a slave-
Xiao Jiu.
Xiao Jiu.
The-the name used by Zhangmen-shixiong to refer to his favorite shidi.
The name that was hated by Shen Qingqiu, the name that always caused him to spark into outrage, the name that made him flare with hostility, the name-
Xiao Jiu.
Shen Qingqiu.
But She-Shen Qingqiu was a noble and Xiao Jiu was a slave and the graceful cultivator couldn’t be Xiao Jiu-
Peak Lord Shen Qingqiu, the Xiu Ya Sword, the Peak Lord of Qing Jing, the Lord of the Peak of Scholars could not be Xiao Jiu, the slave child that didn’t learn to write properly until he was thirteen.
But he was.
Heavens help them, Xiao Jiu was Shen Qingqiu.
Liu Qingge quietly sent a letter to Qi Qingqi, his older cousin sister would know what to do.
In a move that confused everyone, Qi Qingqi lifted the ban that prohibited Shen Qingqiu from entering Xian Shu Peak with little fanfare.
In a move that confused only Shen Qingqiu, no new rumors were spouted about him.
In a move that pleased Qi Qingqi, the rumors that were already spread about Shen Qingqiu were being disproven at the speed of light.
She did know what to do, after all.
Shen Qingqiu played with the delicate, blue leaf between his fingers, his eyes lost in thought even as daybreak was starting to color the sky with the sun’s hues.
It was a gift from his Liu-shidi, one of many.
The plant was rare, near-extinct due to its ability to act as a detoxifying agent to many poisons, and yet his Liu-shidi had casually given it to him, like it wasn’t a treasure families would spill lifeblood over.
The nonchalance should’ve irritated Shen Qingqiu, the disregard of precious items should’ve made him boil with jealousy but all he could feel was a pleasant warmth in his chest as he stared at the little garden forming in his bedroom.
It had started slowly, the heat in his chest, tiny flickers sparking past his heart until Shen Qingqiu couldn’t look at his Liu-shidi without a foreign emotion taking hold of his brain.
The spark that lit up the forest fire hadn’t been the apologies, no those had grated and pleased him in equal quantities, instead, it had just been a simple moment shared between them.
It wasn’t even a moment really, just a gesture.
It had been while they were on a night hunt, in a forest out in the middle of nowhere.
Liu-shidi had been walking ahead of him and he’d spotted a rare plant, a Lavender Fairy Flake, a flower capable of healing even the worst scars until not even a scratch remained, and he’d lit up like a firework, bright and dazzling.
He’d turned around then, a smile playing on his lips as he walked closer to Shen Qingqiu, holding out his hand and smiling at him in hope.
Liu Qingge had held out his hand with a smile on his face, asking wordlessly for his permission to hold his hand to show him a flower he’d thought Shen Qingqiu would like and-
The hand was warm.
Oh so warm.
“The following candidates have been selected for the Immortal Alliance Conference. Luo Binghe, Ming Fan....”
Shen Qingqiu was standing in front of Luo Binghe, his face as hard as stone as he pointed a sword at the demon’s chest.
Liu Qingge was standing behind him, his face set ablaze by an anger so strong, it could melt mountains.
Luo Binghe stared at them both with a demonic sigil blazing on his forehead and an abyss resting behind him.
Shen Qingqiu slowly lowered his sword.
“He’s a demon! Shixiong, be sensible!”
He walked closer to Luo Binghe, prompting Liu Qingge to follow him with a raised sword, until he stood half a step away from the half demon.
Shen Qingqiu pressed a hand to Luo Binghe’s chest, his eyes never straying from the demonic disciple in front of him, and he pushed.
A cold wind blew across the field as the abyss closed, bringing the scent of iron along with it.
“Enough blood has been shed today, Liu-shidi.”
There was a letter in his hand again.
There was a letter in his hand and the smell of blood in the air and-
His grandmother-
His grandmother-
Shen Qingqiu shook as a heavy sob broke through his mask.
His grandmother-
“Shixiong?! Shixiong, what’s wrong? Shixiong-”
His grandmother-
“Shixiong, look at me, come on, you need to breathe, Shixiong, please-”
His grandmother-
“Qingqiu, what’s wrong-”
His grandmother-
“Love, my love, you need to breathe, tell me what’s wrong, I’ll help, my love-”
“She’s dead, she’s dead, she’s dead, she’s dead-"
His grandmother was dead.
Liu Qingge’s arms were warm, so warm.
But his grandmother was dead.
Shen Qingqiu woke up with puffy eyes and a stuffy nose and he was warm.
The type of warmth that he only ever felt at the brothel, the type that came from a human body cradling him against the cold world, the type of warmth that only came from his grandmother, the type of warmth that made it hard to wake up again.
He loved it when it was warm, completely warm, and when it was completely warm he was safe and when he was safe there was no need to wake up so Shen Qingqiu ignored everything.
He ignored the stiff body beside him, he ignored the dread lingering in the edges of his consciousness, he ignored the tears that stuck to his lashes and he slept on.
He was warm.
“Shixiong?”
Shen Qingqiu was asleep.
“Qingqiu?”
Asleep.
“My love?”
Asleep.
Shen Qingqiu was leaning against Liu Qingge’s shoulder.
“You called me ‘my love.’”
Liu Qingge tensed, his hands pausing briefly before he continued to card his fingers through Shen Qingqiu’s hair. “I did.”
Shen Qingqiu sniffed. “Did you mean it?”
“With all my heart.”
Shen Qingqiu swung his legs over Liu Qingge’s lap, his face settling into the curve of his neck until he was practically perched on the War God’s lap.
Liu Qingge wrapped his hand around Shen Qingqiu’s shoulders, a small smile dancing across his face even when it was tinged with grief for the one he loved.
The quiet ‘love you’ was not lost to the air.
“What if I don’t want to dual cultivate? Because I don’t ever want to, it’s not even-I never wanted to, it’s not even memories, I just don’t want to, and-”
Shen Qingqiu closed his eyes, his mouth clamping shut.
“What if I don’t want to?” he asked in a whisper.
Liu Qingge hummed. “Then we don’t have to. Simple as that.”
Shen Qingqiu stared at his Liu-shidi in shock. “You-you don’t care?”
Liu Qingge shook his head. “Not really, it’ll only be fun if you want to anyway, so it’s not even a loss.”
Shen Qingqiu’s chest was burning again.
He wanted to let the fire consume him.
“Qingge?”
Liu Qingge smiled. “My love.”
“I’d like to kiss you, yes or no?”
“Yes,” said Liu Qingge, leaning in as his heart burst from joy.
Luo Binghe had only wanted someone to care.
Just-
That’s all he’d ever wanted, a single person who would care.
His mother, the one who’d adopted him, had cared but then she’d....left and Luo Binghe had been all alone and he’d just wanted someone to care.
Care about whether Luo Binghe would become dog food when he was forced to sleep in the streets, care about whether Luo Binghe would freeze to death when it snowed, care about whether he had enough to eat, care about-
Care about him.
He’d had hope when he joined Cang Qiong, hope that had immediately been washed away by the lukewarm tea spilled on his head, hope that had been destroyed by the faulty manual.
Hope that had been rekindled when it was revealed that the faulty manual had not been on purpose.
Hope that had destroyed him when he’d been pushed into the abyss either way.
It had been a kindness of sorts, Luo Binghe knew that.
His Liu-shishu was supposed to be the most righteous cultivator in the world but he’d still been completely ready to kill Luo Binghe for the mere crime of existing and his shizun had been the one to save him from the other cultivators who’d surely act the same way and it had been a type of kindness but-
He’d still been pushed into the abyss, pushed without hesitation and it-
It hurt because all he’d ever wanted was for someone to care.
Someone to care about him, someone who wanted him, someone who-
Someone who was like his mother.
Maybe it was time to find out who his parents were.
It had taken him four years to get out of the abyss, four years spent in total misery, only to find out that he’d been unwanted since birth.
He’d only wanted someone to care for him, wanted someone to want him, wanted someone to love him and parents were always supposed to love their children and he’d investigated and even Meng Mo had helped and-
He’d been unwanted since birth.
(One person, just one person who cared.)
Worse than that, he’d been an obstacle since birth.
He’d been the reason his mother had died, the reason his mother had been imprisoned, the reason his parents’ love story had had a tragic end, the reason everything had gone wrong-
Tian Langjun’s hands were weak but warm as they held him in an embrace unfamiliar to his soul, the embrace of a father.
Luo Binghe had met Zhuzhi Lang by chance when he’d been investigating and they’d found out the truth about Su Xiyan, his mother, together and then Luo Binghe had met him and-
And then he was being hugged by his father.
His father, the one he’d freed from the clutches of Huan Hua Palace, the one who was dying, the only one who seemed to have even the slightest bit of concern, the one whose arms felt like decaying love, the one who held him like he was worth something even when he was the reason Su Xiyan was dead and-
He was being hugged by his father.
He was being hugged by someone who would care.
His father cared.
Liu Qingge woke up to the sun stabbing him in his eye with the ferocity of a thousand dragons.
Liu Qingge woke up to a warm body in his arms, an arm thrown haphazardly over his waist, and a cold nose pressed into the hollow of his throat.
Liu Qingge woke up to the image of his lover’s peaceful face, a gift he’d cherished since the first time he’d seen it a decade ago.
The War God of Bai Zhan was gentle as he propped himself up on his elbows, his hands delicately detaching the loose hold of his love as he got ready to greet the day.
All his efforts were in vain however when the hand around his waist tightened its hold, bringing him closer to the figure clad in green.
There was a mumble whispered into his chest then, garbled words that sounded suspiciously like “please stay” and “more tanghulu” at the same time.
“Love, I have to get up,” whispered Liu Qingge, trying to hold back his laughter.
He only received more mumbles in response.
“I understand that time is a construct but it’s a construct we have to obey, my heart.”
A series of unintelligible words entered Liu Qingge’s ears, accompanied by a more insistent tug on his waist that made him settle back into bed.
“Five more minutes then, my heart.”
And if the five minutes devolved into another hour where both Shen Qingqiu and Liu Qingge were warm and content and blissful and warm, then-
Well, time was just a construct.