Chapter Text
Shen Qingqiu has absolutely no intention of ascending that day.
In fact, if anyone had asked him—which of course no one did, but when had the universe ever asked his opinion before throwing him headfirst into something much, much bigger than himself?—he would have said that his plan that afternoon consisted of exactly the opposite: stay alive, keep his disciples safe, and return to Qing Jing in time for dinner.
A very specific, very modest, very reasonable goal, in Shen Qingqiu's eyes. Completely in line with the standards expected of an immortal master poisoned with Without-A-Cure. Survival, responsibility, and a touch of homey enjoyment. Not bad, not bad at all.
But then it had happened.
Shen Qingqiu knows that he isn't… one hundred percent rational when it comes to Luo Binghe. The proof of that is the poison he gained from interfering in an attack on the Protagonist all those years ago. Ridiculous, foolish, imbecile! Shen Qingqiu knew, of course he knew, that Luo Binghe was the Protagonist, and with that enormous golden halo, even if he was injured, he would be safe! He would survive! Luo Binghe couldn't die!
But it was at that moment, several years in the past, that Shen Qingqiu had not been rational. He had acted on a single impulse: to protect Luo Binghe. And it was from that same impulse that, when the Three-Horned Carnivorous Rhinoceros charged his caravan after stunning all of his disciples with a near-paralyzing poison, Shen Qingqiu threw himself between the cursed beast, completely protecting Luo Binghe in a fierce embrace.
It might not stop it. Perhaps the blood will only enrage it. But it will buy Luo Binghe and his disciples just one more moment, just enough to recover from the poison's stupor. They had all taken their medicine as soon as Shen Qingqiu detected it in the air! They just needed time!
“Shizun!”
A piercing scream, matched only by the thunderous sound echoing in his ears, fills Shen Qingqiu with grief before tears fall from Luo Binghe's eyes.
Now, Shen Qingqiu doesn't even feel pain, though of course for a full instant, fuller than a breath, he had felt it impaling him from side to side. The damn animal had a massive, razor-sharp horn, and Shen Qingqiu was pretty sure he could have been fucking impaled on it! Is this, technically, his second kill? Because Shen Qingqiu is kind of tired of dying, thanks. At least this death is heroic, if he look at it that way. Protecting the protagonist. Needlessly. Again.
But now, Shen Qingqiu feels no pain. But he can't see either. There's only emptiness.
“System?” He asks into the air, and still gets no answer. “…System?” He tries again.
A screen suddenly appears, and its bright blue light is all Shen Qingqiu sees.
[ERROR 504 — UNAUTHORIZED DOMAIN]
[DETECTED — MAJOR PLOT DIVERGENCE. UNSCHEDULED ASCENSION.]
[PERMISSIONS REVOKED. SYSTEM USE FAILURE. LOGGING OUT.]
“What do you mean, logging out?” Shen Qingqiu yells at the air. “What the fuck? Shen Qingqiu was going to die anyway, what does it matter how!”
[RETURNING THE HOST TO HIS ORIGINAL BODY—]
[ERROR. RETURN ACCESS DENIED.]
The System screen glitches before finishing loading the letters onto the blue screen. The letters overlap, and with a static sound in all directions, the screen glitches even further, shattering in the air and disappearing before their eyes.
Then, there is an overwhelming light in every direction. Shen Qingqiu tries to shield his eyes, but everything within his reach is shining. It is white and gold, a radiance beyond what should be possible, tall golden palaces disappearing into clouds that look more painted than real, multiple people dressed with the elegance of a scholar and the wealth of an Emperor looking at him from all directions.
And then, also:
“It was a big earthquake. Is it someone important?”
“Did something collapse, did a palace fall?”
“No, not this time, and just when we’d forgotten all about the reconstructions! I was dreading returning to a temporary palace.”
“Who is he?”
“On his clothes, is that blood?”
“He ascended through a fight? Could he be a Martial God?”
“He has no armor, where is his sword, perhaps?”
“Look more like a scholar!”
“What kind of civil god ascends through blood?”
Shen Qingqiu tries to ignore all the comments. What the fuck, won't they stop talking about him even in his death? And in front of him, paths of gold, jade, and stone. Palaces bordering impossible constructions, golden tiles caressing the heavens.
… what ascension had the System been talking about exactly?
“System?” he calls in his mind, but there is no response. In fact, the silence is absolute, and a feeling of emptiness runs down his spine. He had come to this body with the System, and, like a stone in a shoe that has already grown accustomed to feeling it all the time, Shen Qingqiu can feel the place in his head where the System is not now that he feels its absence. There is something, even so, within the absence itself, that doesn’t feel like a presence either, but like the residual sensation of something far away.
The System is gone. Or, more like it's been pushed away, unable to reach it where Shen Qingqiu is now.
What the fuck?
Luckily, Shen Qingqiu isn't left walking around, disoriented and bloodied, for long—at least, surrounded by gossiping people incapable of offering a single helping hand. "Come on, seriously! Aren't they supposed to be gods? How hard is it to be kind?"
The person approaching him, surrounded by haggard little men and holding so many scrolls they could compete with An Ding's disciples, is dressed in sober, immaculate black that it immediately reminds him of Yue Qingyuan's robes for some reason. She bows respectfully, and Shen Qingqiu returns it more deeply, even if his torn robes, soiled with blood from a wound he no longer feels, aren't the most respectful thing he could wear.
He doesn't have Xiu Ya on his hip, as he expected. He must have lost it in the middle of the fight against that damn wild rhinoceros. He does have his fan, surprisingly. One of the pretty, delicate fans Binghe had painted for him.
“Congratulations on your ascension,” the woman says soberly, far from the gossipy tones that everyone else—gods?—in every direction is speaking aloud. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t really want to think about everything that goes into ascending—in fact, he’s still quite confused and shaken, but he hopes that whatever explanations they need to give him will come to him… soon. “This is Ling Wen Zhen Jun. Your name, please?”
Shen Qingqiu nods in respect as if he knows who the hell the woman in front of him is or what position she holds besides being a heavenly receptionist and the kindest person Shen Qingqiu has ever met in the heavens, which isn't saying much. All he does know is that she isn't married to the Protagonist in the future, which makes anything he can possibly understand about the woman's personality or her backstory completely incomplete. Well, it's not like he can even begin to understand the Protagonist's actual future wives, either, as they're practically all completely flat and flavorless characters.
“This is Shen Qingqiu,” he introduces himself with a small nod, ignoring the damned chaos boiling in his mind and carrying himself with all the indifferent and haughty dignity that the original goods might have boasted. And, reminding himself that he probably needs to expand the title to be just as memorable, he also lists it: “Peak Lord of Qing Jing, Master Strategist of the Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, Sword Master Xiu Ya.”
Maybe he says it too loudly, or maybe all the boring gossip gods in every direction are listening too closely for crumbs of the latest gossip, because all that follows is a bunch of the same old comments like:
“Cang Qiong? Didn’t they ascend the ancient peak lord line like, twenty years ago?”
“Less, less. Is this really a planned ascent? So early already?”
“Of course not, where are the others, otherwise?”
“Was it a heroic ascent, then?”
“From Cang Qiong Mountain, that’s to be expected. They sealed a Heavenly Demon, out of all the demons in the jianghu!”
Across from him, Ling Wen has a rather tired look. Shen Qingqiu wonders if there's coffee in heaven just from the fact that the woman seems on the verge of asking one of her scroll-covered workers to bring her a triple espresso.
“Come with me, please,” she insists, practically removing him from the spotlight by removing him from the center of attention.
Despite everything, Shen Qingqiu is grateful. What the hell! He walks briskly after her and her entourage, disappearing into side streets to the tall entrance of what looks like a grand library. Shen Qingqiu tries not to be amazed by the vast number of scrolls spread across every surface, but even if he's no longer a mortal, he's still just a man, and one who's fit in well at the peak of scholarly status for years.
Ling Wen doesn't even spare him a glance, so Shen Qingqiu allows himself to be silently curious just to ignore the rising panic. Finally, she unfurls before him a scroll spread in a myriad of names across too wide an expanse of ground, and there's a tense silence afterward.
“The scheduled ascension of the last Peak Lords of Cang Qiong was sixteen years ago,” she informs him, something Shen Qingqiu was familiar with. After all, the new generation of Peak Lords, those using the “Qing,” had ascended only a year after Tianlang-jun’s sealing, confident that the sect would be in good hands thanks to Yue Qingyuan. “…The next ascension for the Peak Lords of Cang Qiong is scheduled to occur in approximately two hundred and eighty-four years.”
Shen Qingqiu swallows.
“It wasn’t in this one’s plans to ascend, nor did he make a noticeable effort to do so,” Shen Qingqiu explains patiently. At least, Ling Wen Zhen Jun doesn’t seem specifically upset. Just very, very tired. “This one’s plans, in fact, didn’t even include the possibility of that happening. This master was poisoned with a powerful poison that crippled his cultivation and actively prevented him from advancing. Achieving ascension was, for him, a distant and isolated possibility.”
Ling Wen hums a nod. She continues to look through his scrolls.
“In that case, if it wasn’t an ascension ahead of schedule, could Master Shen tell me the reason for your ascension?” And when she looks at him with an angry secretary expression, she also adds, “What were Master Shen doing before your ascension?”
Shen Qingqiu clears his throat slightly.
“This master was on an educational hunt with his younger disciples, accompanied by one of my senior disciples,” he explains with a weak exhalation. He’s aware that Luo Binghe only needed a few moments to shake off the paralyzing poison, burning faster in him even if his demonic heritage had yet to awaken. He only hoped he’d bought him enough time to be able to stand and fight without getting hurt. “This one got in the way of an attack by a Three-Horned Carnivorous Rhinoceros and my senior disciple. This one planned to give him time to recover and be able to save the other disciples, even if it meant calming the beast with his own blood.”
Those Rhinos, in that respect, had been described a bit like sharks: once they smelled blood, they would completely stop their attack and focus on one prey at a time, a peril of living in environments with many scavenging predators capable of stealing half-killed prey. If they were distracted by Shen Qingqiu's blood...
Shen Qingqiu ignores people talking behind his back. At least, they're more subtle, and because of their low volume, they're easier to ignore.
Ling Wen, now, seems only a little more intrigued.
“Did Master Shen really step in to save his disciple, with no guarantee of survival?” she asks, almost incredulous. Shen Qingqiu feels particularly humiliated. Well, yes, and it wasn’t the first fucking time! First, Without-A-Cure, then this… he knows the protagonist can’t die! But he can suffer, and that’s not fair!
"What kind of master would this one be if he didn't look out for the best for his disciples no matter the cost to his own life?" is his own response, his voice firm and confident, despite his damned inner chaos. He only prays, begs, that Luo Binghe be safe after this.
Ling Wen hums again. She opens another scroll from his extensive library, which unfolds on the floor in a long path. Shen Qingqiu follows it with his eyes, opening his fan and hiding his interest behind it. And soon, Ling Wen seems to find what she's looking for, because the tension in her shoulders eases a little.
“Here,” she points. “Divine Designs, section 1137, ‘Sacrifices of Nobility of Heart,’” Ling Wen reads, almost disinterestedly. Shen Qingqiu would love to skim the scroll, but he’s certain she absolutely won’t allow it. “‘Not destined for, but with observable tendency toward self-sacrifice: Shen Qingqiu, current Peak Lord of Cang Qiong Mountain’s Qing Jing Peak, has obtained 10,000 pre-ascension merits through harming his own health and cultivation by protecting a junior disciple from a demonic attack, marking his tendency toward merit-gaining designs. It is hoped that the current, new Master of Sword Xiu Ya will gather enough merits through subsequent self-sacrifices so that his ascension will be ahead of that of his martial brothers.’ Herein are recounted a series of sequences and situations in which Lord Shen has sacrificed himself for the benefit of his disciples or martial brothers, an extremely high number for the past three years compared to previous years. The merits gained from his sacrifice on this latest occasion have been sufficient to propel his ascension forward.”
The scroll is turned to Shen Qingqiu, who looks at the characters written in a golden ink like lacquered gold. There is his name, and a long series of... er, self-sacrifices?
Ha! The only thing Shen Qingqiu considers a true sacrifice, besides being poisoned with Without-A-Cure, is, of course, the one he just died in! But the long list goes on and on with absurd situations: that time they tried to poison Yue Qingyuan in a minor plot he already knew about from PIDW and Shen Qingqiu decided to surreptitiously tip over his cup so the sect leader could see the poison’s reaction on his skin and avoid drinking it without causing a political disaster, that time he agreed to poison himself (without saying it was on purpose) with a not-so-toxic plant so that Mu Qingfang could test his medicines on him instead of on the disciples who were initially affected by the same plant so that they, poor ducklings, would receive the final dose without any side effects from the medicine, or that time he got a broken bone for stopping another of Liu Qingge’s qi deviation… Even the first time he saved Liu Qingge’s life is among his “self-sacrifices” for being injured in the process!
And that's not counting the many countless occasions on which Luo Binghe is mentioned: when he stood in the way of a sword to receive the wound and avoid it reaching him, when he ate something directed at his disciple by a young girl to avoid being poisoned with an aphrodisiac and had a fever for three days, when...
Okay. Okay. There are countless instances where he put Luo Binghe in ridiculous and exaggerated danger, small plot points that could be skipped, as far as he could see. Yeah, he's the protagonist, he can't even die, so what! Was he supposed to suffer just because of that?! No way!
“This last… self-sacrifice, ” he gestures with his hand, indicating, “this master needs to know. Did this one save his disciples?”
Ling Wen retrieves the scroll to scan further down the list. She actually has to look much further down to see the last one. Finally, she nods.
“Master Shen Qingqiu’s disciples are safe and sound,” he explains simply. “With the power of his heavenly tribulation, the Three-Horned Carnivorous Rhinoceros transformed into a stone statue. Master Shen’s disciples will not be attacked on their return to the mountain and will be protected by the protective divine designs that Shen Qingqiu left for them upon ascending.”
Shen Qingqiu feels the tension in his shoulders ease. Luo Binghe will be fine. He's a good boy who, despite his own initial shock, would make sure to bring the juniors back to the peak safely, even with their master gone.
Luo Binghe would be safe and sound. Nothing would happen to him. Not that Shen Qingqiu didn't know, but still, having complete confirmation of this fact…
“As Master Shen can see,” Ling Wen says, beginning to roll up the long scroll, “his tendency toward self-sacrifice for his martial brothers and junior disciples has led him to gain enough merit to advance his ascension far beyond the expectations. Congratulations, Master Shen of the Cang Qiong Mountain Sect. You are now officially a Heavenly Official.”
“…Fantastic,” is the utter sarcasm that escapes Shen Qingqiu’s mouth. Unexpectedly, it actually makes Ling Wen smile. “And this master thought he could make it in time for dinner.”
──── ≪•◦ ✧ ◦•≫ ────
Ling Wen leads him through more gilded corridors after giving him some robes that aren't stained with blood to cover himself. The robes are simple black scholar's robes, but Shen Qingqiu accepts them, carefully closing them at the sides and tying his fan to his new cloth belt. Now, when he walks behind Ling Wen, the whispers are still like shouts, but no one seems to recognize him without his bloody clothes.
Inevitably, Shen Qingqiu hears:
“I heard it was self-sacrifice. Nobility of heart! Bah!”
“… Interposing himself in the attack on his disciples…”
“… Shedding his blood so that his disciple would be safe…”
“The Master who Sheds his Blood, doesn’t that sound poetic?”
“Oh, do you think he will become another famous tale?”
“It will definitely inspire someone to try writing something…”
“I don’t even want to think about it…”
Neither does Shen Qingqiu. He ignores them as best he can and trails right behind Ling Wen, letting her guide him to a gilded palatial structure. It's far less garish and vibrant than other palaces made entirely of gold, but it's also as expensive as an imperial construction, and Shen Qingqiu keeps a nonchalant gaze behind his fan to keep from gawking and gaping at everything. He should be damned well used to luxury by now, but this whole thing feels more wasteful than luxury!
They enter, and halfway down the hall to the right, Ling Wen opens a door for him. There isn't much there: a low table, a stack of scrolls, ink, and an absurdly uncomfortable-looking cushion for a construction in the Heavens themselves. There's a couch to one side, strategically uncomfortable with ceramic pillows. There's even a half-dried plant in a terracotta pot, standard decoration for a new employee assigned to a new cubicle.
“This will be your temporary office,” Ling Wen explains, her voice lilting with the lilt of someone who has said the exact same thing a thousand times. And perhaps more. “Once the forms are completed, you will be assigned a palace of your own, a layout befitting your current position, reputation, and merits. The palace may be rebuilt and improved as your reputation grows, but its location, once selected, will be permanent. The territories under your protection may vary according to your followers; however, they will be located in the vicinity of the Sect you hail from, based on your current spiritual affiliation.”
Shen Qingqiu nods. Gathering his courage, he asks:
“When can I come down?”
Ling Wen looks at him with an expression of absurd surprise. The question seems to have caught her completely off guard, raising both eyebrows and letting her entire stern face transform into utter confusion.
“… come down?” she hesitates, as if the question itself were absurd. Shen Qingqiu hides just a millimeter further behind his fan.
“Descend” nods simply, confirming it, “to ensure the health of my disciples and continue taking care of my Qing Jing Peak.”
Ling Wen… blinks. She looks as if she hadn't expected those questions. Shen Qingqiu doesn't find it so unusual. He thinks, there must clearly be some people who weren't ready or willing at the time who were ascended? Those who wanted to return to their normal lives as quickly as possible and dismiss the whole heavenly official thing as a side job, mostly working on it in a home-office way, and low-paying?
“Master Shen wishes to descend to continue his mortal duties?” Ling Wen asks again. Shen Qingqiu nods peacefully, his head showing none of the catastrophic urgency running through his veins instead of blood. “… it is no ordinary occurrence.”
Shen Qingqiu closes his fan, sighing.
“This master wasn’t actively preparing to ascend,” he says patiently. “This one’s disciples are in the middle of their training, and the head disciple…” He thinks of Luo Binghe. He thinks of his sweet, seventeen-year-old White Lotus, so bright and so cheerful, so in need of approval and affection, and oblivious even to the countdown behind him. There are only a few weeks left until the Immortal Alliance Conference. If Shen Qingqiu were to remain in the Heavens during the Conference, he wasn’t entirely sure Luo Binghe’s fate could be avoided. Who knows, maybe the shitty System wouldn’t randomly infect minds, or worse, bring in new transmigrators just to push Binghe into the Abyss! “What options does this master have?”
Ling Wen pauses for a rather long moment. She looks up at him intently.
“Master Shen might give up on his ascension,” she says, her expression unreadable.
“Is that something that’s done?” Shen Qingqiu asks, curious.
Ling Wen shakes her head.
“Throughout the history of Heaven, only two people have done so voluntarily,” she reports. “One of them jumped straight off the edge, without even introducing himself after his ascension. The other submitted a rejection that was not granted, so he challenged the former Heavenly Emperor to a duel, lost, and was banished from Heaven, his spiritual energy being sealed in two cursed shackles.”
Poor bastard, Shen Qingqiu thinks, grimacing. Well, he's not sure he'd survive if he jumps from that height anyway, and the alternative of having cursed shackles... well, anyway, he had Without-A-Cure, didn't he? He'd learned to live with that pretty well.
“Neither option is advisable,” Ling Wen continued. The tone she used reminded Shen Qingqiu of Mu Qingfang’s stern tone insisting that he take his medication on time and every day. “Anyway, these kinds of matters aren’t things that should be discussed with me. This Ling Wen Zhen Jun is nothing more than a Civilian Goddess, even if she is the head Civilian Goddess of the Heavens. Master Shen can complete his paperwork while I look for the right person so we can discuss what to do next.”
Shen Qingqiu looks between the pile of paperwork and Ling Wen. Before she leaves, he dares to ask:
“What kind of paperwork does this master need to complete?”
Ling Wen glared at him as if Shen Qingqiu were an idiot. Shen Qingqiu had no defense for himself, he'd definitely earned it this time. He had no idea what a Heavenly Official was supposed to do, damn it!
“I’ll send someone to assist, if that’s what Master Shen requires,” Ling Wen offers. Shen Qingqiu nods, but she doesn’t even seem to accept his thanks before continuing: “Your palace assignment form is the main thing—master Shen can choose from the available territories for your temples, as well. Master Shen must also complete his request for assistants, furnishings, and stationery, write up a briefing with examples of territories he will be happy to take charge of from now until the future, and add a scroll detailing his skills and knowledge for the records in case of future joint missions where his assistance may be required. Please take into account his current merits and work within his budget when requesting things; if necessary, master Shen can also request a merit loan. In fact, for newly ascended individuals without a large believer base, it’s recommended; repayment periods are extended by one hundred to five hundred years. Master Shen will be assigned both assistants and servants from among the immortals seeking ascension as apprentices free of charge.”
Shen Qingqiu had no idea that the Heavens accepted unpaid internships, but honestly, he doesn't even dare to be surprised. The pile of papers on the low table is… quite large. He's not sure he can complete them in one sichen, or even two.
“What if this master ignored the paperwork until he could get off the hook?”
Ling Wen gives him a bored look.
"In that case, he’ll need to bring the scrolls with his descent. Master Shen can also complete them from there and send them signed and sealed. Our postal service is free."
──── ≪•◦ ✧ ◦•≫ ────
Shen Qingqiu is figuring out how and in what order to fill out the forms when there's a knock at the door. Shen Qingqiu lets out a low "Come in," hoping to be heard as he continues to try to understand how exactly he can fill out the "Devotees and Believers' Territory" form, when he's not even sure anyone expects him to die more painlessly.
The door opens again after Ling Wen leaves. Shen Qingqiu doesn't look up, but he can hear light footsteps approaching, and a figure placing a tray of tea in front of him.
“Oh,” he says, surprised by the unexpected kindness. He raises his head, and the young man in front of him… is dressed as simply as a servant could be. He has the serene air of a well-trained servant, with his hair half-tied back and a polite smile. Is he one of those immortals doing internships? Shen Qingqiu wouldn’t be surprised. “I appreciate it very much. I definitely needed some tea right now.”
Or something stronger, is what he doesn't say. He doesn't expect them to have rice wine or anything stronger even in the heavens. Hell, is there even a market in the Heavens? How do they get their supplies? Does it all come from offerings? He'll need to make an altar just to offer alcohol to himself.
“It’s understandable, given the circumstances,” the young intern says, with a sweet, friendly smile. “Ling Wen informed me that you requested assistance. How may I be of help?”
“Oh, yes, thank you. This is Shen Qingqiu, and ascension really wasn’t in this master’s plans. I’m totally unprepared,” Shen Qingqiu finds himself saying, breathing a sigh of relief when he finds the boy’s kind face clear of prejudice. Blessed are the interns, the master regrets having hesitated in the first place! “Do you have time, anyway? This will take a while, apparently. I’m trying to understand these forms so I can fill them out; this master wants to figure out how to leave as quickly as possible. Could you stay and help me for a moment?”
The young intern looks surprised. If he's surprised that Shen Qingqiu is trying to be nice to him, he'll definitely leave something in the complaint book. Because there should be a complaint book, right? No one should be rude to interns; they're poor, miserable souls taking on an unpaid, stressful internship. Even if Shen Qingqiu doesn't eat anything the cooks at his peak make except for what Binghe cooks, he always finds himself thanking them for their hard and respected work!
Despite his surprise, the intern nods and smiles calmly. He pours two cups of tea, and Shen Qingqiu watches the tea leaves float in the hot water, completely certain that this is the worst tea he's been presented with since his transmigration—and he's already received plenty of tea from shy, trembling little disciples awaiting their new Shizun's approval. Still, he don't look a gift horse in the mouth, so he accepts it modestly.
“Of course,” the young man in front of him answers simply.
“May I know your name?” Shen Qingqiu asks a moment later, as a mouthful of tea tries to make him cough. It’s downright disgusting, but Shen Qingqiu isn’t (now) one to spill cups of bad tea on people. He can tolerate hot, dirty water if it makes someone else happy.
The young man’s smile makes him look only slightly amused. He doesn't even look older than Binghe; they could be the same age, full of sparkling youth and expectations for a bright future.
“Xie Lian,” he replies, his voice simple and gentle. There seems to be no pretentious ulterior motive in anything about him. Shen Qingqiu takes an immediate liking to him. He’d take him to work at Qing Jing if he could!
“It sounds like a very sophisticated name,” he mentions, just to say the least. It doesn’t seem like the kind of name that’s just given, but rather the name meticulously chosen for someone who will one day obtain an important position. “Imperial Assistant?”
“Something like that,” Xie Lian says, with a patient smile.
Shen Qingqiu doesn't inquire. He'll have time to inquire and snoop around later, he wants to believe. The urgent and most important thing: to take care of the heavy lifting.
After the brief exchange, Xie Lian helps in a thorough and orderly manner, proving that the Cang Qiong Sect should also start taking in interns if they are going to do such a good job of demonstrating their abilities and place.
His hands are skillful, arranging the papers in separate piles by priority. He advises Shen Qingqiu in a patient, gentle voice, mentioning here and there that a certain territory is not recommended, and that this specific territory would serve him well in gaining merit quickly, given the large number of villages along the road and the greater influx of merchants between them. Even so, he must apply for a merit loan to build small temples along the road, and pray that some peasant will take pity on them and light some incense for him. Shen Qingqiu doesn't even care if they are elegant: he discards the gold and jade in favor of small stone temples, clay tiles, and a low roof where someone in need can take shelter. Better quantity than quality.
Xie Lian seems to silently approve of his decisions. His expression never fails to be pleasant.
“Xie-daozhang is extremely competent,” Shen Qingqiu says, half a sichen later, when half of the enormous stack of signed, wax-sealed, and neatly folded forms ready to be sent and processed has easily disappeared. “Have you been considered for any higher positions?”
Xie Lian just smiles, his shoulders shaking a little with silent laughter.
“I’m afraid so,” is his reply, and from the way he speaks, Shen Qingqiu thinks he doesn’t fully agree with it. More work for the same pay (nothing)? Shen Qingqiu wouldn’t accept that either, to be honest.
It’s only when they get to the specific “main source of merit” form (what is it, a stupid income and tax declaration form? Does he have to declare the legality of where his merit comes from once a year or what the hell? Do they control and regulate that the gods don’t grant offerings and merit to themselves?) that Shen Qingqiu is left with no idea how to respond.
Xie Lian looks over his scroll and replies:
“Master Shen can write down where he obtained his pre-ascension merits. If he doesn’t have a fixed source of merit for now, don’t get upset about it. He can update it in the future,” he says gently. Shen Qingqiu sighs, letting a drop of ink fall onto the paper, swallowing.
Actually, should he put "self-sacrifice"? What would be the proper way to officially write it? Wouldn't that be kind of... narcissistic? Shen Qingqiu isn't sure. If only he had a sample sheet, everything would honestly be easier! If only he had Binghe with him to help him with the paperwork, that sweet little lamb always knowing what to write and how...
Instead, all he does is sigh and say, “I don’t know what I’m doing here.”
Xie Lian hums from his cushion, where he continues to arrange the scrolls that Shen Qingqiu has already completed.
“Wasn’t Master Shen’s future plans for ascend?” he asks, tilting his head slightly. He seems curious, not in a morbid way, just as if he’s genuinely interested.
“No. I mean, in a way, yes,” Shen Qingqiu snorts, rubbing his forehead with exhausting circles. He’s very close to a migraine. “This master was aware that cultivation seeks ascension as its pinnacle. However…” He hesitates, unsure if he can exactly say that. The System hasn’t said a word, not a single appearance, as if it had somehow lost power among the Heavens. Even if Shen Qingqiu searched, he couldn’t find even its connection to it. Had ascension nullified the System’s control, or was it the Heavens that weren’t allowing the System access? Shen Qingqiu supposes so. If he’s a God now, isn’t that a step above the System? “Xie-daozhang, have you never been in a situation where you believe fate is set in stone to happen in a specific way?”
“Hmn,” Xie Lian looked thoughtful. “Of course, but fate is only written in stone by mortals. If it’s read across the universe, isn’t it mortal hands that make it seem like it’s written in stone, just because they’ve interpreted it once and written that brief interpretation? The stars don’t always speak the truth, and fate can change.”
Shen Qingqiu blinked, looking at Xie Lian curiously. The young man had a peaceful expression, arranging papers, rolling and sealing scrolls with a composure and patience that belied a young man of his apparent age. He was probably much older, and possessed a wealth of wisdom.
Shen Qingqiu considers taking him to Qing Jing again. At least he'd get paid there, not leave him as a miserable intern!
“Xie-daozhang is wise,” Shen Qingqiu concedes, bowing his head slightly. He sighs, despite himself. He needs five minutes of peace to adjust to his new reality, but he’ll take it right after he finishes all that miserable paperwork. He’s never been good at picking up where he left off if he takes a break. “Still, this master never believed that fate could be contested, and that his ascension was something that could actually happen. I possess no devotees or temples. Even this master’s mortal reputation precedes him more in misfortune than in good fortune. I fear that the only tale anyone could tell of this Shen Qingqiu improperly involves me with certain… pleasure establishments.”
Xie Lian laughs, just a little. It's not the kind of sly, cruel laughter Shen Qingqiu would have expected.
“Folk tales are popular only because they are tales,” he says, with a gentle smile. He doesn’t seem to find anything wrong with Shen Qingqiu having no idea what to do with his new divinity right now. “Master Shen may not have one now, but I have no doubt he’ll start being talked about very soon. Just on the way here, did I hear something about the Master Who Spills His Blood?”
Shen Qingqiu snorts, still. Despite the circumstances, it's really not a bad title. It could be worse. It could be the One Who Can't Stop Dying for His Disciples. Or the Brothel Visitor of Qing Jing Peak—not that Shen Qingqiu has been actively visiting brothels, but, God knows, the mistakes of the original goods aren't easily forgotten, dammit! There's a reason they were used against the original goods during the trials that led to him being taken to the Water Prison to be turned into a human stick!
“It’s not an unpleasant title,” he concedes, grimacing. Despite everything, it still wasn’t that bad. “Still, this master disagrees that it’s a remarkable trait. What kind of master would I be if I wasn’t willing to protect those in my charge even if it meant shedding my own blood?”
“Master Shen would be surprised,” Xie Lian says, finishing arranging the papers in his stack. They’re separated and organized by priority and length in a way that Shen Qingqiu could only have guessed, and misjudged, their order. “There are many cultivators who talk about being honorable. Few, however, demonstrate it.”
Shen Qingqiu hummed in agreement. Even reading novels, he had completely agreed with that. Filling their mouths with righteous words, their pockets with the gold of those wronged, and their swords with the blood of those useless to them. Precisely for that reason, and among many other characteristics, Luo Binghe had been an exceptional protagonist: he had never sworn an oath he couldn't keep. If it was justice, he would take it; if it was revenge, he would exact it. He didn't boast about being just or honorable. In his gray morality, Luo Binghe was aware of who he was, what he wanted, what he was, and at no point did his own narrative make him disown himself as someone who didn't know he was doing wrong. His grudges had been his own form of justice, even if he had been aware that it wasn't fair, and he had never wanted to convince anyone otherwise.
Sighing, Shen Qingqiu returns his brush to his scroll. Xie Lian is wetting the inkstone with painstaking care, the skilled but delicate hands of someone who has done this often and with better materials. Shen Qingqiu describes and lists the things Ling Wen mentioned about his merit-building, treating the scroll like a tax return, sighing when he's finished. By now, even the perfect, muscle-memory calligraphy of the original goods looks slightly scruffy around the edges.
“This master doesn’t believe himself to be an honest and just cultivator, either,” Shen Qingqiu says, setting the scroll aside to let the ink dry and moving on to the next one. He fills in the information in the designated places. “He has made mistakes in the past. This master doesn’t even know if he can prevent something horrible from happening.”
The real question was: Would the System return once he descended from the Heavens, or would he be unable to influence it because of his new position? He doubted he'd be so lucky, but right now, for the first time in years, he could feel slightly free and expectant of a choice.
Hadn't the system failed by deporting him? Didn't that mean there was an alternative?
Xie Lian hums.
“If Master Shen has learned from the mistakes of the past, then he shouldn’t beat himself up over them,” Xie Lian says with gentle simplicity. “As for the future, if Master Shen is so concerned about it, isn’t Master Shen a heavenly official now? What else can alter fate except a divine decree? A fate can always be altered.” Xie Lian’s expression is, for a moment, a little wistful. “Though I would recommend that he not be exchanged, but traded.”
Shen Qingqiu thinks that any other poor, miserable cannon fodder would die just by falling into the Endless Abyss. They wouldn't even survive the fall. Even if it was to save Binghe, his poor little sheep, it's a price Shen Qingqiu would be willing to pay if it happened, but not something he'd be willing to make happen on his own.
He sighs.
“I couldn’t trade a fate like that, even if I wanted to,” he says, filling out and signing the final space on his scroll. It’s not the last one, but with luck, there are fewer and fewer of them, and Xie Lian has arranged them so that he can organically fill in a couple of them before he actually has to use his brain to think of the ones he needs to draft and expand. “It’s a lot of suffering. This master would rather prevent anyone from having to go through that.”
Xie Lian hums to himself.
“So, if it’s a fate to be avoided, Master Shen must avoid it,” he says simply, as if it weren’t anything more complicated than that. And, seen from this perspective… didn’t Xie Lian just say that few things are greater than divine decree? Shen Qingqiu doesn’t want to get his hopes up, but perhaps…?
Feeling a gnawing sensation, Shen Qingqiu clings to hope long enough to set another scroll aside. When he sees this one, he lets out a loud groan.
“Where do you expect me to get prayers and offerings?” he complains, tapping the paper dismissively. “Until the loan is approved, I won’t even have temples for, like, three full months? What do I have to do in the meantime? Pack bags of rice with my face on them and a sign saying, “Please pray for your benefactor, Shen Qingqiu?”
Xie Lian has a melodious laugh even if he's laughing at his own expense. Shen Qingqiu doesn't mind.
“That would be a start,” Xie Lian says with a pleasant smile. His eyes are gentle crescents with a small glimmer of amusement filled with hope. Despite his initial skepticism, Shen Qingqiu finds it almost physically impossible to feel ill around that radiant expression. “You can start with a small temple, something homemade. Help people, spread the word. If they see the goodness in your actions, eventually the offerings and prayers will come.”
Shen Qingqiu doesn't think it's very humble of him to set up an altar and incense in his own bamboo house. At the very least, and fully deservedly so, his martial brothers would laugh him off. However, he's a scholarly master, dammit! It shouldn't be that difficult to make up a couple of tales and songs and just... let them flow with the wind and allow people to do the rest. Isn't it a bit like starting a fandom, in a way? He'd make up some interesting tale that people would choose to believe. And pray. And offer. It wasn't a bad idea.
However, Xie Lian's idea has enormous merit in itself.
“Xie-daozhang sounds like he knows a lot about this,” he says, respectfully curious. Xie Lian smiles a little wider.
“Let’s just say I have some experience with humble beginnings,” he hums, setting aside the scrolls Shen Qingqiu had set aside, the ink now dry, to roll them up with great care. “It’s hard, at first. It takes perseverance and a lot of effort. But, like all work, it pays off.”
Shen Qingqiu snorts, just a little amused.
“I never believed in meritocracy,” and he says this with experience. He’s lived two lives, and in two lives, he’s seen the absurd reality of life: the rich get, the poor rarely get anything even if they work hard for it. Look at Binghe! More than meritocracy, sacrifice! Unjust suffering and bloodshed, and never getting anything, having to tear it all away to get something! Incredible. “Being a God should be different. Who says that even without merit, I won’t buy a pile of incense, offerings, and paper money, and set it on fire?”
Xie Lian lets out a small laugh. He looks absolutely amused, although Shen Qingqiu is probably being disrespectful to the very significance of the Heavens.
“Oh, Master Shen can do it, of course,” Xie Lian says, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “However, would that gain him believers, future offerings, prestige in the mortal realm and the Heavens? It would increase his merits, of course, but I’m afraid I don’t think someone who has risen through sacrifice before his junior students would have the disposition to do something like that.”
Shen Qingqiu didn't plan on burning so much incense himself. Perhaps one or two sticks to test how it worked. The truth is, he's not going to dedicate his entire budget to that either, when he still has students to teach, instruments to buy, tools to replace, and raw materials to make quality end caps so his disciples can do the best with the best.
“The Heavens may be strangers to meritocracy at times, that much is true,” Xie Lian continues, examining one of the forms, seemingly checking that everything is in order. “That doesn’t mean that all heavenly officials must live in the cradle of gold they were born into, or relying on the triumphs they’ve collected in their lifetime. While those with a previous livelihood are afforded greater ease once they’ve risen, what good is it when those mortals who were loyal to them for their money grow old and die, and there are no more mortals to believe in them? Falls from grace are no strangers to the Gods, I fear. Few ever return to glory once they have.”
Xie Lian pauses, a small smile dancing on his face. Shen Qingqiu sets aside another signed form and sighs when he sees that he actually has to draft the next one, not just fill in the blanks.
“The Gods, even more than mortals and immortals, need to be believed in. They need to leave a space in history where they can live and be worshipped forever, haha, as arrogant as that may seem. The greater the devotion, the greater their power, and the higher their merits and reputation.” And his smile is sweet, so suddenly that Shen Qingqiu raises an eyebrow, curious about the change. “Master Shen shouldn’t be afraid of not getting believers. Sometimes, a single devout believer is enough.”
Shen Qingqiu thinks for a moment. He loosely drags his brush across the scroll, detailing his scope of knowledge on beasts and demons, flora and fauna of all kinds, specifying and detailing the areas where he wouldn't be important to be summoned to assist, all the while mentally rambling. Xie Lian, Xie Lian. The name isn't entirely familiar, but it echoes with a strange comfort in his mind, as if it's something he's once heard but forgotten.
“Xie-daozhang is extremely wise,” Shen Qingqiu says, his smile curling slightly. “He doesn’t seem like the type of person who sits around pouring tea and writing papers. Isn’t Xie-daozhang’s position higher than this master first believed?”
Xie Lian hums, amused.
“This Xie Lian has had many jobs over the years,” he seems very amused by that. He waves his hand, dismissively. “I’ve been in the military, and I’ve been a tutor. Mnh, I’ve been in street performance, and I used to swallow swords as entertainment for a few coins. However, my favorite job has always been collecting scrap.”
Shen Qingqiu whistles, intrigued. What a box of surprises!
“Xie-daozhang never ceases to amaze me,” he says, laughing despite himself. It’s not fair, he has so many questions to ask him right now! “Perhaps, if Xie-daozhang is willing and has the free time, this master could invite him to his Qing Jing Peak for tea and tell me about your adventures. They really do sound intriguing. And if you’ve been a tutor, and the Heavens don’t take up much of your time, perhaps I could offer you to take back an old job? My Qing Jing Peak pays well,” he offers, not daring not to. Come on, he’s a great guy! He doesn’t care that he looks younger than some of his disciples! He’s extremely efficient, intelligent, and kind! If it weren’t for his company, Shen Qingqiu would have gone crazy these past few hours doing paperwork.
Xie Lian looks wonderfully surprised. Then he smiles, his eyes closing sweetly.
“Oh, I’ll discuss it with my husband,” he says, still smiling that wide, bright smile. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t even flinch—well, they are Gods! And he’s a very good ally, a modern man of the new age despite his disguise as a dashing immortal master! “And I’ll think about it. What Master Shen offers sounds like a nice change of scene.”
──── ≪•◦ ✧ ◦•≫ ────
It takes him about a sichen to finish filling out the forms. Then, Shen Qingqiu offers to make the next pot of tea: his teas may not be as exquisite as the Protagonist's, but at least they're much easier to drink than the strange water Xie Lian had served him. Anyway!
Xie Lian helps him familiarize himself with the spirit communication array, program a password that he's not afraid to share with those he wants to talk to—he even shares his own! Shen Qingqiu, the modern man that he is, only laughs a little at the joke. A respectable piece of trolling, all the way. He likes Xie Lian more and more, even more so when, behind all the paperwork, he informs him that, if he likes, he can accompany him down, so that the first time won't be so difficult.
“It’s easy to get caught in clouds along the way,” he says, as if it’s a matter of course, and Shen Qingqiu honestly believes him. He has no experience to tell him otherwise, so he carries half the papers in his arms, delivers them to Ling Wen’s office, and it’s Xie Lian who exchanges a few pleasantries with the Heavenly Official while Shen Qingqiu examines some ornaments, hanging scrolls, and things arranged in a chaotic mess that seems to have some kind of fundamental order. Even the mess seems to have a feng shui well established in the heavens.
Then Ling Wen bows, Xie Lian turns around, and Shen Qingqiu quickly follows after saying his thanks and goodbyes, feeling that if he loses sight of Xie Lian he will be lost in a vast catastrophe of golden palaces with no escape.
“Okay, it’s easy from here. Master Shen just needs to focus on where he hopes to descend, and hopefully he won’t descend too far. Go first, and I’ll follow,” says Xie Lian, who has probably descended and ascended a fair number of times if he’s acting like a proper tour guide of the skies at this very moment. Shen Qingqiu grits his teeth, doesn’t look down, and lets himself go.
The sensation of falling barely raises the hairs on his neck before his feet hit the ground. He blinks, wiping the clouds from his eyes and the chill from his spine. He's on Cang Qiong Mountain, so alone that he's still down there, hundreds of stairs from its peak, and above all, in a lonely passage, quite far from the main stairs and entrances, but with a direct detour to the stairs that ascend to Qing Jing. He smiles, a little proud of himself. The perfect place in case he accidentally falls and avoids making a fool of himself!
As soon as it stabilizes a bit, it's bombarded by an exaggerated number of windows. Seriously, what the hell!
[ERROR. RETURN ACCESS DENIED.]
[ERROR. RETURN ACCESS DENIED.]
[ERROR. RETURN ACCESS DENIED.]
[ERROR. RETURN ACCESS DENIED.]
[ERROR. RETURN ACCESS DENIED.]
Shen Qingqiu waves aside the multiple overlapping windows. There are more than a hundred of them, repeating the same thing over and over again.
“System, what the fuck?” he asks in his mind. The System, eloquently, opens another blinking blue window.
[The Host has triggered a Major Plot Divergence. Current plot analysis values, B Points and Satisfaction Points are incalculable.]
Shen Qingqiu gestures. Incalculable points? What the hell?
There's a soft sound behind him. Shen Qingqiu pushes aside the last window, exhaling in relief and rejoicing that Xie Lian's descent was safe and sound. He seems to land with a grace that even surprises him, as if Xie Lian had been waiting to catch on a cloud or something.
“Thank you for your guidance, Xie-daozhang,” Shen Qingqiu said, clasping his hands and bowing more deeply. He had seen Ling Wen do that bow before, and it seemed much more appropriate now. Hadn’t he completely misunderstood Xie Lian’s position? The boy’s expression seemed a little surprised, but he smiled.
“It’s a pleasure to help,” Xie Lian returns the bow courteously. “I know it wasn’t Master Shen’s plan to ascend so quickly, but as someone who knows luck, I consider this a stroke of luck,” Xie Lian hums pleasantly. He’s wise even with kind words, and exceedingly gentle. “Besides, the Heavens could benefit from a Heavenly Official with the kindness and goodness of heart of the Master Who Sheds His Blood.”
Shen Qingqiu laughs, surprising himself.
“It’s no big deal,” he protests, opening his fan and taking refuge behind it. Xie Lian’s smile only grows. “This master will be aware of his duties as a Heavenly Official, however, he has classes to teach and disciples to care for. This one awaits your understanding.”
“Of course.” Xie Lian inclines his head, his smile much, much gentler. Ah, he’s so kind that Shen Qingqiu actually feels the urge to invite him in and stay a little longer. How hard it is to find kind and kind-hearted people outside of the sweet Protagonist! “I would never dare to take a master away from his duties and the care of his disciples.”
Shen Qingqiu sighs.
“Speaking of disciples…” he begins. It’s not that he wants to send Xie Lian away, but really, well! He doesn’t know exactly how long he’s been away, and he has disciples to see, and a sweet little lamb whose anxiety he wants to calm. Really, if he’d gotten frantic just the couple of times Shen Qingqiu got hurt, he doesn’t even want to imagine how he’ll react now!
Xie Lian laughs. He doesn't seem bothered.
“Ah, please, Master Shen, give my regards to your young disciples and your Sect Leader,” Xie Lian says, tilting his head to the side with a hint of amusement. “Your reputation is now renowned throughout the Heavens. They will be eagerly awaiting your ascensions. I take my leave.”
Xie Lian gives one last bow of farewell and turns to leave. Shen Qingqiu watches him, a little confused.
“Xie-daozhang, do you know where to go from here?” he asks, only a little worried. He doesn’t want to leave the young Heavenly Intern (who really is an intern? Shen Qingqiu isn’t entirely sure anymore) alone on an unknown mountain.
“Oh, Master Shen, don’t worry.” Xie Lian cheerfully pulls two dice from his sleeve. He waves them in the air as if it means anything to Shen Qingqiu other than that his new friend has some kind of connection to a gambling house, which would be just a little odd since Xie Lian doesn’t look like a gambler. “My husband will come for me. I’ll just step back a little from the sect barriers; I wouldn’t want any misunderstandings if they sense his resentful energy.”
Well, it's not like Shen Qingqiu cares much that Xie Lian's husband is a demon! A portal-making one, apparently. He wonders why it was never mentioned, but supposes that one Mobei Jun was probably enough. Though he's pretty sure it's not Mobei Jun—the ice demon has nothing to do with dice, and honestly, Shen Qingqiu couldn't imagine someone as gentle as Xie Lian married to a humanoid ice statue.
He wishes him well, and then, hoping perhaps to see him again soon, starts up the endless flight of stairs toward his mountain. He doesn't have his flying sword, and he's not entirely sure he can summon Xiu Ya now. Even if he can feel Without-A-Cure resonating in his veins, it's as if he's containing his own qi inside, not blocking it. As if the new level of—new spiritual energy from being a God?—has swept the Without-A-Cure into the corners of his meridians, blocking the direct exit, but not the passage of qi through his own body.
Mnh. Curious. Shen Qingqiu hums to himself, turning once when he's fairly high up only to see the small, white-clad silhouette of Xie Lian far off in the distance. And he has someone else. Even in the distance, Shen Qingqiu can see a small, red-clad silhouette, very close to the white figure. He can't see more than their delicate forms among the leafy greenery, but Shen Qingqiu smiles. Ah, how nice it is when some people find genuine affection beyond the Protagonist! Even if they had to find it in men, it makes sense: if all the women in the world are for the Protagonist, isn't it better to move on to the alternative? Not that Shen Qingqiu is into men, but for someone who's bisexual or something, that would be nice!
He hums, pleased with himself, and continues upward. The lights are clear; dawn is breaking through puffy clouds and golden flecks across the sky. Shen Qingqiu quickens his pace: he has many stairs to climb, and a huge mess of frightened disciples and one young Protagonist surely on the verge of a nervous breakdown to deal with.