Chapter Text
By the end of the day, Shen Qingqiu was officially worried.
Luo Binghe had said he would be back by Thursday.
It had sounded like a simple enough assignment. Luo Binghe had said that three days was more than enough to travel to the western Xi'an Province, suppress a fomenting revolt among the Wan demonic clan, make sure whichever ambitious idiot had declared themselves the next Demon Lord understood exactly why that was a terrible career choice, then return to Qing Jing Peak in time to make dinner.
Luo Binghe had even smiled when he said it: "I'll be back before Shizun has time to miss me."
Shen Qingqiu had snorted and waved him away with his fan. "You'll only be gone for three days. What is there to miss?"
Luo Binghe had responded with big watery puppy eyes.
Now it was the fourth day.
It was the fourth day of Luo Binghe’s absence from the Bamboo Cottage and dinner had long since gone cold.
Usually if Luo Binghe's return was delayed for any reason, a message would arrive before Shen Qingqiu had the chance to wonder where he was.
Sometimes that message came in the form of Mobei-jun, who would appear without warning in the middle of the Bamboo House like an especially icy ghost. He would grunt out exactly one sentence—"Junshang will return tomorrow."—then disappear before Shen Qingqiu could even offer him tea.
Sometimes Shang Qinghua came instead, scampering in with snow in his hair and a stack of reports clutched to his chest.
"Peak Lord Shen!" he had wheezed, breathless and panicking like no tomorrow. "The protagonist—uh—I mean, His Majesty wanted me to tell you he'll need another day! Please don't let him know I forgot to tell you this three hours ago!"
Once, Luo Binghe had opened a portal just long enough to dart inside, kiss Shen Qingqiu on the forehead, leave behind a handwritten note explaining why he would be late, drop off two freshly steamed baskets of food into the kitchen, and vanish again before the tea kettle finished boiling.
Shen Qingqiu had complained about the unnecessary theatrics afterwards, but Luo Binghe had looked genuinely confused.
"But Shizun would worry."
"This master isn't that fragile."
"Shizun~ this disciple missed you. Surely Husband missed this one too?"
And Luo Binghe would smile with that infuriatingly knowing expression that suggested he didn't believe a word of out of Shen Qingqiu’s mouth.
This time, however, there was no such message or letter. No portal opened in the middle of the study and no Mobei-jun materialized out of thin air to freeze the floorboards.
There was nothing.
The silence stretched on until it became impossible to ignore.
As the last of the sunset bled across the horizon, Shen Qingqiu found himself pacing at the entranceway of the Bamboo House. The bamboo beneath the snow creaked softly in the winter wind.
If any Qing Jing disciple happened to witness their refined, elegant Peak Lord wearing a path into the snow like an anxious expectant father, Shen Qingqiu would probably lose all remaining credibility he had left - and he didn’t have enough to spare anymore.
Fortunately, everyone with functioning survival instincts had already retreated indoors. That included him, by the way. On any other winter day, perhaps he would be waiting outside in the cold for his husband. But today was far too chilly for that.
Besides, it wasn't like the System could deduct OOC points anymore. He smiled to himself at the thought with more bitterness than amusement.
Good riddance.
Unfortunately, freedom from the System had done absolutely nothing to cure him of overthinking.
He opened the door to check the sky again and still sighed when he couldn’t see a black figure descending on Xin Mo.
It was the same grey clouds and the same gloomy sky.
Maybe the rebellion was bigger than expected.
Luo Binghe was absurdly powerful, but putting down an uprising wasn't just a matter of defeating the strongest opponent. There were negotiations, reconstruction, treaties, displaced civilians, rival clans trying to seize territory— That could reasonably delay Luo Binghe by another day or two.
Shen Qingqiu nodded to himself. Yes, that was a rather reasonable deduction.
That still didn’t explain why Binghe hadn't sent word.
...Maybe he simply forgot? But no, that wouldn’t make sense. Luo Binghe could forget to eat, skip out on sleeping, and even forget where he put Xin Mo - he had done it exactly twice before - but he had never once forgotten to tell Shen Qingqiu he would be late.
Perhaps he'd stumbled into some bizarre secret realm with the space dilation mismatch where time flowered slow inside than outside – it wasn’t like this xianxia setting had smartphones with timers or anything. It would be exactly the kind of luck the protagonist would have to run into pocket dimensions and hidden portals to other secret realms.
Maybe only a few hours had passed for Luo Binghe while four days had passed outside.
Wait…
No, surely not. Luo Binghe couldn't actually be—
Shen Qingqiu stopped the thought before it finished forming.
Ridiculous. This was Luo Binghe, the protagonist. This was the man who had survived the Endless Abyss, tamed Xin Mo, survived heavenly tribulations, came out on top of demon politics, and could eat through Shen Qingqiu's cooking without looking like he was going to die unlike Shang Qinghua.
Death had clearly looked at Luo Binghe several times before deciding it simply wasn't worth the effort.
Still, being the protagonist didn’t mean Luo Binghe couldn’t be hurt.
What if he was injured - like, seriously injured - his heavenly demon blood healed quickly, but it wasn't limitless. What if he'd encountered some ancient curse? Some divine weapon? Some absurd plot-device poison specifically designed to counter heavenly demons?
What if he was unconscious somewhere?
What if… What if he was lying in bed while an impossibly beautiful young healer dabbed medicine onto his forehead every day?
Shen Qingqiu's imagination, traitorous as ever, continued without his permission.
Naturally she'd have long flowing black hair and jade-like skin. Naturally she'd possess a tragically noteworthy backstory and an even more impressive rack.
Naturally it’d be this kind of maiden who would get the chance to spend weeks nursing an injured amnesiac Luo Binghe back to health.
Naturally Luo Binghe would wake up one morning, gaze into her devoted eyes and think—
"Perhaps this is the woman I should marry and spend the rest of my life with."
Shen Qingqiu's face darkened at the mental story his brain had conjoured up. "...No." He folded his arms. "...Absolutely not."
Luo Binghe had terrible taste.
He'd already proven that just by marrying Shen Qingqiu.
"Arf! Arf arf!"
Shen Qingqiu whirled around at the sudden barking sound.
At this time of year, Qing Jing Peak was silent. No, he wasn’t talking about the peaceful sort of silence one found during morning meditation, where the wind rustled through bamboo leaves and distant disciples recited sword forms.
No.
The silence of winter was something else.
A thick blanket of untouched snow buried the mountain paths beneath several feet of white. Every bamboo stalk bowed beneath its icy burden, groaning softly whenever the wind swept through the forest. The gusts whistled around the Bamboo House, carrying loose flakes that glittered in the moonlight before vanishing into the darkness beyond.
Even the birds had long since migrated to warmer valleys.
Every so often a branch, unable to bear the weight of accumulated snow, would crack with a loud snap, dumping its burden onto the forest floor. The sound echoed for several breaths before being swallowed once more by the endless quiet.
No one on Qing Jing Peak wished to remain outdoors any longer than absolutely necessary.
And so, when a bark echoed across the snowy mountain, Shen Qingqiu heard it crystal clear.
Shen Qingqiu stopped pacing and every muscle in his body went still. The sound echoed through the bamboo grove.
Another bark followed; it was closer this time.
"Arf!"
A dog?
His brows knitted together.
There was a dog out In this weather?
There weren't any stray dogs on Qing Jing Peak. There weren't any stray dogs on Cang Qiong Mountain at all.
The disciples spoiled every animal that wandered onto sect grounds so thoroughly that most eventually settled in the villages at the mountain's base, where winters were mild enough that snow rarely lingered more than a day.
No sane dog would voluntarily climb several thousand stone steps through a blizzard.
That was, unless...
Shen Qingqiu frowned.
Was it someone's spirit beast? Had a disciple lost a companion? Or—
His thoughts halted.
The bark came again. Now it was coming from right outside the Bamboo House.
Without thinking, Shen Qingqiu snatched up the nearest lantern in one hand and a freezing talisman in the other.
If this turned out to be some demonic beast pretending to be an ordinary animal—
Well, Liu Qingge had kicked open enough doors over the years to prove it was an acceptable opening move.
Shen Qingqiu took one breath. Then, channeling every ounce of Liu Qingge energy he had ever witnessed—
BANG!
The front door flew open.
"Arf—oomph!"
A small black blur was promptly smacked square in the face by the door that just flew open.
It tumbled backward into a drift with an indignant yelp before popping upright almost instantly, shaking off the collision as though nothing had happened.
Instead of fleeing, the little creature bounded enthusiastically straight back toward him and the lantern light.
"Arf!"
Shen Qingqiu froze.
It was…
Tiny. It was ridiculously tiny.
Barely reaching his shin, the puppy was little more than an impossibly fluffy ball of tightly curled black fur balanced atop four absurdly oversized paws. Snow clung stubbornly to every curl until he resembled an animated rice cake rolled in powdered sugar. Its tail wagged with such manic enthusiasm that Shen Qingqiu was abruptly reminded of an old internet headline.
"Dog Sprains Tail From Excessive Wagging."
At the time he'd laughed.
Now, watching this puppy's entire rear half blur from sheer excitement, he suddenly understood.
The puppy bounded toward him. Shen Qingqiu instinctively stepped backward.
The puppy stopped, then trotted forward again.
Shen Qingqiu took another step back.
The puppy paused. "Aro?"
Its head tilted so dramatically that one floppy ear nearly brushed its shoulder. Its two enormous crimson eyes blinked up at him. Wait-
Crimson?!
...
Shen Qingqiu's brain stopped processing for a moment.
Black fur and red eyes? Add that to the whole issue of his husband being missing for so long, and…
Shen Qingqiu could be 1 + 1 together.
Before he could do the math, the puppy seemed to arrive at some conclusion. Its entire body gave one enormous shake and everything trapped in its fur - snow, melted snow, ice, pebbles, dirt - everything trapped in those dense curls exploded outward in every direction.
Tiny droplets peppered Shen Qingqiu's robes. One landed dangerously close to his eye.
Shen Qingqiu took a step back and raised his fan as a shield.
The puppy, blissfully unaware of its crimes, padded closer. Its head seemed almost comically oversized for the rest of its body, making its already huge eyes appear even larger.
Its pink tongue lolled happily from its mouth. Its breath came in eager little pants. Every inch of the tiny body trembled with anticipation.
Shen Qingqiu immediately recognized the posture. He'd seen it hundreds of times. Luo Binghe always looked like this for exactly three seconds before launching himself into a hug.
The only difference was…
Normally the person preparing to tackle him was over six feet tall!
Not… whatever this was.
The puppy crouched slightly. Its hind legs wiggled. Its tail became a blur, whipping back and forth so fast that its entire rear end swayed with the effort. Tiny claws clicked excitedly against the bamboo floor as it shifted its weight from paw to paw, unable to contain itself.
Shen Qingqiu stared back. He didn't move anymore for fear of triggering the ball of fluff into tackling him. If he retreated, Luo Binghe would chase him. If he advanced, Luo Binghe would probably decide that counted as an invitation.
His mind had gone completely blank.
...What exactly is the etiquette here?
He couldn't kiss a dog. That was bizarre. But this wasn't really a dog. It was Luo Binghe… his Luo Binghe, even.
He could pat his husband on the head... right?
Couldn't he?
Would that be affectionate?
Or unbearably condescending?
He had never owned a dog before.
More importantly… He had certainly never had a dog for a husband. There wasn't exactly a chapter in Cultivation Etiquette for Distinguished Peak Lords covering this scenario.
"...Um." The eloquence of Qing Jing Peak's Peak Lord was truly unparalleled.
The puppy waited.
One heartbeat passed, then two and then three…
Its expectant grin began to falter.
Seeing Shen Qingqiu stare at him blankly with no signs of moving, the puppy's tail slowed from an ecstatic blur to an uncertain wag. Its ears drooped. Its bright eyes began to glisten with moisture.
Its entire posture wilted like overcooked spinach.
The little body seemed to physically shrink in on itself. Its head lowered. Even its fluffy tail sagged until only the very tip twitched hopefully.
It looked so heartbreakingly dejected that Shen Qingqiu felt as though someone had quietly slipped a knife between his ribs.
...Damn it.
That expression was unfair.
Even when Luo Binghe had been fully human, those watery eyes had always been Shen Qingqiu's greatest weakness.
Now they were three times larger.
"...Um," Shen Qingqiu tried again. But he couldn’t figure out what to say. His voice trailed into an awkward silence.
The puppy made the tiniest sound. "...Wuff?" It wasn't even a proper bark. It was just a soft, questioning little noise, as if asking whether he'd done something wrong.
Shen Qingqiu nearly took psychic damage.
In the bamboo cottage, one man and one suspiciously familiar puppy had not the faintest idea how to proceed.
Shen Qingqiu's thoughts raced.
Come on.
Think.
Think think think.
There has to be some socially acceptable greeting for a magically transformed husband.
Surely this had happened to someone before. Cultivators turned into animals all the time.
...Actually, now that he thought about it, they usually turned into monsters, corpses, swords, or cautionary tales. He'd never heard of anyone becoming an enthusiastic puppy.
"...Good boy?" The words escaped before his brain could stop them.
The puppy perked up instantly. Its ears shot upright and its tail exploded back into motion with enough force to practically generate its own breeze. Even its eyes transformed, litting up like someone had hung lanterns inside them.
Shen Qingqiu watched, horrified, as the phrase apparently hit every single instinctive reward center in Luo Binghe's current body.
...He had made a mistake. The most terrible mistake.
"...Welcome back?" he hurriedly added, clearing his throat as though that might somehow erase what he'd just said. "Yeah, uh... welcome back!"
The puppy gave an ecstatic little yip. Then, unable to restrain himself for even one second longer—
He launched.