Chapter Text
Everything is so dull.
Shen Qingqiu wondered why he was still here. Why did he keep trying? Everything remained the same anyway—the whispers behind his back, the tantalizing looks of scorn directed toward him, the dull ache in his chest that had hollowed out over the years. He sat upon his so-called throne as a peak lord, draped in fabricated lies to hide what he truly was underneath: a broken nobody. He sighed. It was so tiring.
Just then, laughter and whispers carried by the wind reached his ears. He turned his gaze to see a group of disciples going about their day. Once, Shen Qingqiu would have scorned them. Pompous brats, he’d think. But one morning, he found himself without even the energy to muster contempt. It's as if he was enlightened with the fact that nothing is really worth it anymore.
Should he just end it? It made perfect sense to be honest. Nobody wanted him here and nor does Shen Qingqiu himself think so.
He was now standing under the moonlight, clothed merely in his nightwear, with his outer robe draped over his shoulder, black inky hair swaying loosely along the cold midnight wind. He stared at his own reflection in the tranquil spring waters of Qing Jing Peak. It'd be fairly easy to disappear from this world. More so since the end goal is to actually cease to exist. He's Cang Qiong Sect's strategist after all. He's smart. He can make it happen.
A faint smile tugged at his lips at the thought, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He shut it away. Ignore it. When should he do it though? Actually, he'd be down to do it now.
Then, a flicker of light. Something shifted.
A slow and wobbly movement of light caught Shen Qingqiu's attention. Through half-lidded eyes, he made out the familiar unkempt hair out in the distance. It was the beast with the given name of Luo Binghe, his youngest disciple. The boy carried logs on his back, a lamp in hand—still working through his chores late at night.
Shen Qingqiu thought of him. He didn’t know how to feel about this disciple who once filled him only with disdain. Brimming with talent, blessed by opportunity, and still baring eyes so innocent despite coming into his peak in nothing but rags. It was…unpleasant.
But in the past few months, Shen Qingqiu noticed that he stopped paying attention to him and the feelings that festered with it. Scratch that, he stopped paying attention to everything altogether. He had been living on autopilot, drifting like a wraith without direction. Well—until now that is.
Shen Qingqiu finally understood what he wanted. And with that clarity, he felt lighter. It would end soon.
But until then…
He watched as the light dimmed, fading until it vanished in the distance. The wind rose, rustling through the bamboo as if trying to stir something within him, softening the silence that weighed on his heart.
Perhaps he should set some things into order.
—
The sun greeted Qing Jing Peak. Its disciples were already awake and scattered about their tasks—some practicing their stances, others meditating as they waited for the next class. One particular disciple was doing the former.
Luo Binghe stood in the middle of a clearing deep within the bamboo grove, alone and undisturbed. A wooden sword rested in his hand as he drew in a steady breath. He hadn’t been able to practice his forms yesterday, buried under an unreasonable load of chores that caused him to miss several classes. Under normal circumstances, such neglect would have earned him a whipping, but Luo Binghe found that the only punishment he got was no cultivation progress and turning in late into the night which was torture in itself because disciples are expected to wake up before the sun did. That's the way it has been this past few months.
An image flickered unbidden in his mind—green robes, a fan half-concealing distant, cold eyes. He forced it away almost as soon as it surfaced.
Luo Binghe gripped his sword tightly. Yes, it has been months since he saw a clear image of his aloof Shizun. A fleeting silhouette, the sharp snap of a fan—then nothing. It's as if the man became an afterthought.
At first, Luo Binghe thought his Shizun had finally given up on him—that he was no longer even worth the trouble of disdain. The realization filled him with dread. Punishment he could endure, but the thought of being cast aside as useless was far worse. And it hadn’t happened all at once; it was a gradual fading, a slow process of dismissal that settled, at last, into plain indifference. It was only until his Shijie, Ning Yingying, assured him that the man had been really acting strangely and more distant than ever. Even she, his most favored disciple, hadn't been able to have a full conversation with him nor did she ever see him with anyone else.
Honestly, Luo Binghe was worried. He was not ignorant to his master’s cruelty nor blind to the hatred directed towards him—a hatred he could never understand, a question that would never be satiated. Yet, in the end, Shen Qingqiu was still his master. He revered him as much as he feared him. He worked tirelessly each day for the smallest chance of getting acknowledged—or at the very least, no longer hated. But now, it seems like he doesn't have any right to try now. Because it felt as if the man was no longer there. More unreachable than ever.
Luo Binghe found his eyes narrowing. His Shizun always had this distant look in his eyes, staring past him, dissociated. He wonders what's beyond it or if there's anything there at all.
Luo Binghe raised both of his hands, took a deep breath in and swung.
For a man who had that certain look in his eyes. What would happen if it's left that way?
Luo Binghe swung again. Then once more.
He pursed his lips. But then again, it's not like he can do anything about it, so he wonders why is he even—
“You’re gonna break your joints if you keep doing that.”
The familiar cold voice startled Luo Binghe, making him stumble and face-plant into the dirt. He scrambled upright at once, cheeks burning with embarrassment at his own disgrace. And there, just as he had haunted his thoughts, sat the elusive figure—lounging languidly atop a stone.
“S-SHIZUN???”
The man in question was unbothered. As if Luo Binghe didn't just lose his bearing in front of him.
“What progress were you exactly trying to achieve when your mind is somewhere else? A clear mind and a clear destination, that is the way of the sword.”
Luo Binghe blinked. Wa—was Shizun really giving him advice right now? He couldn't believe it. More importantly, since when had he been there? And how long had he been watching? Luo Binghe didn't sense him at all!
“Well?”
Luo Binghe was once again brought out of his racing thoughts. His Shizun was looking at him as if expecting something. As if realizing his disciple’s confusion, the man frowned, causing Binghe to flinch. Oh no, did he do something wrong again?
His Shizun sighed before continuing. “Do the drills again. Correctly this time.”
Luo Binghe's eyes widened like saucers. Unwilling to disappoint his Shizun even further, he scampered to his sword before doing the drills as his Shizun said. He barely could contain his racing heart as he tried his best not to stumble under his master's gaze.
His Shizun was actually overseeing his training!
Form after form, Luo Binghe moved through the sequence from beginning to end. Shen Qingqiu said nothing, offered no correction nor praise. With every silent moment, Luo Binghe could only push harder, hoping desperately that he hadn’t disappointed him
Luo Binghe risked a glance at his Shizun. Sweaty and panting. He felt his clammy hands as he awaited his master's verdict.
After a while, his Shizun only hummed.
It wasn't approval—but it certainly wasn't dismissal either.
Luo Binghe breathed out.
Moments later, his Shizun spoke again.
“Binghe, come.”
Binghe. Binghe. Not beast, not brat. It was the first time he heard his Shizun call him by his name.
Slowly, Luo Binghe approached. Head bowed as he reached a few paces from the stump of the stone his master sat on.
“Give me your cultivation manual.”
Luo Binghe's breath hitched.
“S-Shizun?” He raised his head in confusion.
“Must this master repeat himself?”
“I- no- this disciple—” Luo Binghe hurriedly reached into his robes and presented his cultivation manual. Still bowing as his Shizun reached for it.
Luo Binghe fidgeted with the hem of his sleeves while Shen Qingqiu flipped through it. His heart jumped when the book was abruptly snapped shut.
“You won't need this anymore.”
Luo Binghe's heart dropped. What did his Shizun mean by that? Is he gonna be thrown out? Did he raise his hopes up only to get disappointed again?
“Shizun this disciple—”
Luo Binghe stopped when his Shizun pulled out another manual from his robes before handing it to Binghe.
“This master changed his mind. Use this cultivation manual from now on. It suits your frame better.”
Luo Binghe's voice caught in his throat. How was he supposed to react to that? But before he could even try, his Shizun was already gone when he raised his head, tearing it away from the manual he stared reverently on his hands.