Chapter Text
Yue Qingyuan is, unfortunately, irrefutably, and frustratingly hot.
The air in his house’s rooms is so thick that all who pass through them are nigh forced to swim.
Outside, the fences on the mountain bake in the sun, cicadas hum, and disciples lay like fallen soldiers beneath any scrap of shade they can find. They fan themselves and pass each other water-soaked rags to lay on their foreheads and bared legs.
The day’s meetings have been shorter than usual, which has found Yue Qingyuan in the rare situation of having absolutely nothing to do.
Normally, he would take this time to cycle through every wrong he has committed since the age of seven, but the weather does not permit such ruminations. It insists that he do something else.
So he attempts calligraphy, and when his sleeve is ruined by ink, he moves onto working through a few training stances.
Within minutes, the exercise knocks the wind right out of his sails. It sends him, like the disciples, into an inelegant sprawl in his personal room.
Sweat drowns the hair at the back of his neck; the rest of his person dances with the idea of becoming jelly and melting.
A knock on his door disturbs his misery.
“One moment, please,” he calls as he sits up and makes himself more or less presentable to company. “Enter.”
The door creaks open. In comes Liu Qingge, dressed as always to the height of perfection. Just looking at the tightness of his collar makes Yue Qingyuan long for the ocean.
“Liu-Shidi,” he greets with a smile.
Liu Qingge stares at him for a long while.
“Liu-Shidi?” Yue Qingyuan gently repeats.
The question snaps the man out of his stupor. With precise, urgent movements, he crosses the room and takes a seat across the table from Yue Qingyuan.
The heat from the hall outside slowly infiltrates the space between them.
No one speaks.
Lui Qingge jumps up and retraces his steps. He closes the door, returns to his seat, and folds his hands in his lap.
He says nothing again.
Yue Qingyuan waits.
Liu Qingge occasionally requires a moment or so to get his words in order before he sets himself upon a given topic. Yue Qingyuan learned the hard way not to rush him in this.
He can still feel those knuckles in his gut sometimes.
“Zhangmen-shixiong,” Liu Qingge finally says.
“Yes?” Yue Qingyuan replies.
Liu Qingge stares at him.
“Is everything alright, Liu-shidi?” Yue Qingyuan prompts cautiously.
He expects to receive a report of some sort. The War God seldom comes to him for reasons beyond murder, maiming, politics, or trouble brewing in the lower ranks–unless he has come to nag Yue Qingyuan yet again about the state of his desk.
He does love to nag about the state of the desk.
“Shidi?” He says again.
His eyes widen as Liu Qingge’s chin trembles.
“I have received word from my parents in the north,” Liu Qingge says.
“Good news, I hope?” Yue Qingyuan supplies.
“Au-auspic—” Liu Qingge breathes out shakily. “Auspicious news, shixiong.”
“How excellent?” Yue Qingyuan tries.
The word seems to slam itself through the back of Liu Qingge’s armor like the blade of a knife. He shudders.
“I must—” he says, “I must ask for a short period of release from my duties here.”
Yue Qingyuan has seen happier men staring down a line of archers with their bows pulled taut.
“Of course you shall receive it, Liu-shidi,” he says.
“Thank you.”
Liu Qingge stands up. Yue Qingyuan stands up, too, as casually and mildly as possible.
“Are you leaving soon?” he asks.
Liu Qingge does not raise his eyes from the floor.
After ten years of enduring and appreciating these long, wordless pauses, Yue Qingyuan has come to learn that each has their own flavor. For example, silence with a flickering gaze at present company usually means something along the lines of ‘do you want me to take care of this guy?’
Silence with a bitten lip tends to mean, ‘God, I would love to take care of this guy.’
And silence accompanied by a pout tends to mean, ‘Why won’t you let me take care of this guy?’
All are, of course, wonderful flavors of communication unique to Liu Qingge and his very practical view of the world, but Yue Qingyuan has yet to experience the present combination.
Silence with downcast eyes; silence with just the faintest flush of redness around the lower-most lashes and a barely-there tremble in Liu Qingge’s voice…well, Yue Qingyuan doesn’t know what this one means.
He does know he does not like it at all.
“What ails you, Liu-shidi?” he asks.
Liu Qingge glances up at him briefly, then trains his gaze back onto the floor.
Alarm begins to vibrate Yue Qingyuan’s ears as Liu Qingge starts to say something only to cut himself off. It is as if mere consideration of the question consumes him with uncharacteristic dread and, more importantly, uncharacteristic fear.
“Aiyah, how strenuous this auspicious occasion must be,” Yue Qingyuan says with care. “Look how unhappy it makes the War God.”
Liu Qingge’s lips threaten to smile. Quickly, he schools his face and nods.
That is an opening.
“Aiyah,” he sighs again, louder and even more sympathetic than before, “I only hope this good fortune has reached Liu Mingyan as well as her dutiful brother.”
Liu Qingge winces.
“—or not,” Yue Qingyuan course-corrects, taking a stroll around the room and observing the few pieces of art on the walls, “Too much good fortune is bad for a young girl’s spirit, after all.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Liu Qingge’s shoulders relax.
“Indeed, shixiong,” he says.
“One’s grandparents must be quite pleased with this fortune, too,” Yue Qingyuan suggests.
“Very,” Liu Qingge says bitterly.
“And one’s cousins?”
“They are beside themselves.”
“And one’s mother?”
Liu Qingge scrunches his face like it pains him, and it must really do so because he raises a hand and scrubs it across his eyes and cheeks instead of answering.
“Perhaps one’s mother is quite anxious about the occasion?” Yue Qingyuan asks. “Please don’t tell me the occasion has to do with this mother’s daughter, Liu Qingge. We cannot spare that person, you know.”
At this, Liu Qingge goes taut and miserable all over again.
“I know,” he says.
“Will you tell me?” Yue Qingyuan asks in a very low voice and standing close by his side.
Liu Qingge looks up at him. All signs of health have abandoned his face. Only the evidence of a deep ache remains.
“Perhaps one day,” he says.
Yue Qingyuan has to hold his breath to keep the disappointment at bay.
“As you wish then,” he says. “Your leave is granted. I hope it is cooler for you in the north.”
He turns back to return to his desk, but something stops him.
It is the silence again.
This one is tenser than the one before.
He looks back over his shoulder and his heart drops right through his stomach.
“Shidi, shidi,” he says, rushing forward to gather Liu Qingge into his arms. “What is this? What is happening?”
Never, in all the time Yue Qingyuan has known that great War God Liu Qingge, has the man cried like this.
Each tear is a perfect pearl. In twos and threes, they race down Liu Qingge’s cheeks in time with the rhythmic heave of his shoulders.
Several gather at the tip of his chin. One drips to the floor.
The poor thing’s distress is so all-encompassing that he doesn’t even try to push Yue Qingyuan away. He leans in, and heat be damned, Yue Qingyuan clutches him close.
“Shidi,” he soothes, rocking slowly from side to side, “Liu Qingge, tell this sect leader what truly ails you. Be honest. I cannot stand to see you like this.”
Fingers dig into the back of Yue Qingyuan’s robes. They clutch hard at first, then harder. Yue Qingyuan stiffens at this touch.
He knows it well.
He opens his mouth at the exact moment that Liu Qingge tears himself away. He wipes at his eyes with the back and sides of his hands and breathes out forcefully several times to steady himself for what must naturally come next.
But Yue Qingyuan isn’t letting that happen.
He catches Liu Qingge’s wrists before he can lower them to his sides.
“Liu-shidi,” he says. “Look at me. This is an order.”
Even the War God must follow those; Liu Quingge raises his swollen eyes.
“Why are you saying goodbye?” Yue Qingyuan asks.
A fresh trickle of tears darkens the tracks on Liu Qingge’s face.
“I am not your War God,” he says hoarsely.
“Of course you are,” Yue Qingyuan says. “Say what you mean.”
“Shixiong, I beg of you. Let me leave here.”
“Knowing you may never return? I take it back. Your leave is not granted. I’ll do what I must to keep you here. This is your home.”
To Yue Qingyuan’s surprise, Liu Qingge softens. He even takes a step closer. This is permission. Yue Qingyuan will not squander the rare opportunity. He, too, steps closer and holds out his arms again to initiate a second embrace. This time, Liu Qingge lays his head against Yue Qingyuan’s heart and shoulder.
He smells of salt and bath bean.
“Zhangmen-shixiong will regret this decision soon,” Liu Qingge says.
“Nonsense. I am reveling in the opportunity. Two hugs from this shidi in the same day? This shixiong is spoiled,” Yue Qingyuan says. “Though he could be even more so. Will shidi say now what has upset him?”
Liu Qingge touches the pad of his thumb to his eyes.
“Grandfather,” he admits.
Ahhh. Yue Qingyuan wouldn’t know himself, but he has heard that these sorts can be finicky.
“What has this grandfather done?” he asks.
Liu Qingge heaves an enormous sigh.
“Arranged my marriage,” he says.
The world’s natural rush slows to a halt.
“I beg your pardon?” Yue Qingyuan says.
“I told you,” Liu Qingge says bitterly, “It’s an auspicious occasion. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. He and Father have demanded I return to them to take part.”
“Have they forgotten that you are the lord of Bai Zhan Peak?” Yue Qingyuan asks.
“They insist upon it, shixiong. I cannot remain here.”
So tell them to fuck off and die Xiao Jiu’s voice supplies in the echoing caverns of Yue Qingyuan’s mind.
“I don’t understand,” he says diplomatically instead. “Are you their only heir?”
Liu Qingge steps back and shakes his head with solemnity.
“No,” he says.
“So there are others? Brothers?”
“There–yes, and no.”
“Then what is the issue?”
“The issue is—the issue is—I—”
Stammering is unlike Liu Qingge in every way. The situation is truly dire.
Yue Qingyuan mentally begins compiling a list of emergency contacts.
“They feel, shixiong, that I have corrupted their heir,” Liu Qingge finally explains.
Alas.
This answer illuminates nothing whatsoever.
“I don’t understand,” Yue Qingyuan says again. “How can you corrupt the heir if you are the heir, unless you mean that they somehow think that you have corrupted yourself?
“It is no matter what they do or don’t think, there’s no reason to it and anyways,,” Liu Qingge says quickly. “Zhangmen-shixiong should not trouble himself with any of it I will return home and—”
“Stay? For how long? And what of Mingyan?” Yue Qingyuan asks. “What will she do when her brother is found to have suddenly vanished?”
“Mingyan will stay where she is,” Liu Qingge says.
“Without her brother?”
“I am the eldest. It’s my responsibility to handle this.”
“Why?”
“Why? Because it’s. It was my—”
Liu Qingge stops himself. His spine straightens; his shoulders settle into their usual stiffness. He lifts his chin to meet Yue Qingyuan’s gaze head-on.
“It was my idea,” he says.
“What was?”
“Coming here.”
“Here? You mean to this mountain? You and Mingyan?”
“Yes,” Liu Qingge says testily. “May I go now?”
Not in a thousand years.
“This master will tell you when you are free to go,” Yue Qingyuan says with both a temper and authority he loathes to lean into.
“I’m the daughter,” Liu Qingge suddenly snaps. “I’m the daughter, alright? Me.”
“What?” Yue Qingyuan says.
“Now you know. There is no heir. I have to make one. Are you happy?” Liu Qingge says. “Do I have permission to leave or not?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Is that all you can say?”
“Watch your tone,” Yue Qingyuan warns.
Embarrassed, Liu Qingge withdraws into himself. Herself?
It is too hot for this.
“I have bathed with Liu-shidi, so I know that which you tell me now is a lie,” Yue Qingyuan says. “What I don’t know is why Liu-shidi is lying.”
“You have not bathed with me,” Liu Qingge says immediately.
“Yes, I have.”
“You have not.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“You have not,” Liu Qingge insists. “Each time, Shen Qingqiu and I tussle in the baths; I fall into the water and leave upset.”
The sound of Yue Qingyuan’s mind cracking fills his internal ears.
“We have all shared quarters,” he says.
“I became angry at everyone’s horrible sounds and all their snoring and said I would rather sleep in the stables,” Liu Qingge counters.
No.
No, that can’t be right. Liu Qingge did say those things, but—
“Your shizun would have known.”
“He did,” Liu Qingge says. “And now he’s gone.”
“He never said—”
“I would have forsaken my role as his disciple if he had. He trusted no other pupil. He needed me. You all did. I made sure of it.”
Fuuuuuck me, the Xiao Jiu in Yue Qingyuan’s head groans.
“Liu-shidi, I don’t know what to say.”
“Say nothing and let me go.”
“I cannot. Does Mingyan know of all this–this er–”
“Obviously.”
“Okay. Alright. So you are the eldest…daughter?”
“And she is the eldest son.”
“Right,” Yue Qingyuan says stiffly. “Hold on.”
“Don’t try to make sense of it, shixiong, it is our burden to bear,” Liu Qingge says. “And at any rate, it will be all fine soon. This disciple can make things right.”
“But Mingyan is–”
“What she deserves to be,” Liu Qingge says.
“Liu-shidi. There is an obvious answer in this. If it is true what you say, then it is not your responsibility to produce an heir–”
“What do you know?” Liu Qingge snaps.
The question is so explosive that Yue Qingyuan forgets what he intended to say next.
“Nothing,” he defaults to instead. “Nothing, apparently. Of this situation.”
“Correct,” Liu Qingge says. “Please give your leave. I will make things right, and once they are right, I will return to Bai Zhan Peak.”
“And how exactly does this disciple intend to do that?” Yue Qingyuan asks.
Liu Qingge gestures vaguely for a moment, as if he is having a hard time putting words to a plan so obvious that Yue Qingyuan ought to understand it intuitively.
“I will have a son, I guess?” he says.
Heaven help us, Xiao Jiu sighs.
“A son,” Yue Qingyuan echoes.
“Yes. Or something. I guess.”
“Praytell, Liu-shidi, where are you going to find a son?”
“This junior never said find.”
“My apologies. Liu-shidi intends to bear a son.”
“It will fix things,” Liu Qingge says.
“Which things will it fix? Do tell. This shixiong is extremely interested,” Yue Qingyuan says.
Liu Qingge stares at him.
“Most things?” he asks more than says.
This situation is no longer dire, it has become an all-out crisis.
“Liu-shidi, please listen to this shixiong very closely,” Yue Qingyuan says calmly, “This is a terrible idea.”
“Right.”
“There are ways to work around this matter.”
“There are.”
“Ways which do not require Liu-shidi to fall pregnant with some random man’s child.”
“No, there aren’t.”
It’s like talking to a wall, Xiao Jiu sneers.
“Shidi, this shixiong is touched and so pleased that you came and opened your heart to him,” Yue Qingyuan tries instead. “Please, will you let him think on the matter to determine if there is a way forward that satisfies everyone involved and does not put our War God at risk of childbirth? Will shidi stay another few days at least before setting off north?”
Liu Qingge frowns and glances towards the door, visibly considering his options.
“I don’t want you to go,” Yue Qingyuan admits. “Selfishly. As Yue Qingyuan. I do not want to lose Liu Qingge. He is more important to me than the son he may or may not bear.”
That gets the man’s attention. A blush blooms across his otherwise pale, sickly face. It brings with it a wave of relief.
“This junior can wait another day or so,” Liu Qingge allows.
“Thank you.”
“Hm.”
“Please go cool down, then. We will speak again in the morning.”
Night brings with it a cool breeze that inspires the whole mountain to sigh in relief.
Yue Qingyan, however, does not light a lantern. He sits in the dark, thinking.
Thinking.
In one thousand years, he would never have guessed that Liu Qingge, of all people, was not born a man. Everything he does is disgustingly masculine, and he does all of it with such ease and practice that even the gruffest men among the sect envy his self confidence.
To think that he cultivated these mannerisms as he cultivated his spiritual qi–Liu Qingge is truly a talent the sect cannot afford to lose.
Moreover, Yue Qingyuan cannot help but wince internally at all of the instances that he and others might have unintentionally caused Liu Qingge distress–the invitations to bathe and wrestle, constantly chiding him to spend more time with his peers.
He cannot even imagine the fear that Liu Qingge must have been carrying through all those moments; Yue Qingyuan and others have always blamed his coldness and isolation on his explosive temper, and while that might be partially true, Yue Qingyuan sees now that the temper, the anger, is a shield.
Qi Qingqi is similar.
Yue Qingyuan drags a hand through his hair.
As much as he would like to pretend that Liu Qingge would be treated no differently on this mountain as a woman than he is now as a man, that is simply not the case.
No matter what the sect teaches its adherents, the outside world’s influence creeps in, in insidious ways.
There are comparatively few women and girls among the sect’s ranks, and great pains must be routinely taken with prospective disciples to ensure they do not treat their sect-sisters and teachers the way they treat women in the villages they come from.
Yue Qingyuan has arbitrated several complaints of this nature just in the last year, and sadly he has been forced a few times now to dismiss a prospective disciple on the grounds of inappropriate behavior towards women in the sect.
Outside the sect, such biases are heightened.
For that reason, itis a miracle that Liu Qingge, as the daughter of a nobleman, made it this far from his home region at all.
He should have been married years ago by outside standards.
He should have two, maybe even three children clinging to his hips.
It is little wonder that his family has grown impatient with him.
And since Liu Mingyan has been ‘corrupted’ as heir by reshaping herself into a person with undeniable breasts and hips, it also makes sense that the Liu family has no choice now but to rely on him for an heir.
They are desperate, and they are right to be. Liu Qingge–unlike Mingyan–still has a fair chance at enticing an outside suitor.
Despite his highly masculine behavior, he is blessed with features that lend a flexibility to his appearance. His narrow chin and hairless cheeks and his large, wide-set eyes make him believably both a delicate man and a boyish woman.
Aigh.
If he could grow a beard or otherwise present himself in a less appealing manner to the typical nobleman’s son’s sexuality proclivities, then things would be less complicated.
But no. The facts are what they are.
Yue Qingyuan holds his forehead.
He has to think about this strategically.
Liu Qingge is not wrong that giving his family an heir will take pressure off both himself and Mingyan, but letting Bai Zhan Peak go without a leader for nine months at minimum—more likely a year if not more—will cause trouble and not just from demons.
An interim leader of Bai Zhan Peak might be summoned to oversee the peak’s affairs for a short time, but after so much recent upheaval, Yue Qingyuan worries about a weakening of morale on the mountain as a whole. He saw firsthand how quickly cracks began forming in the hearts and loyalty of Qing Jing Peak when Shen Qingqiu passed away.
He does not wish to try the spirits of Bai Zhan Peak’s disciples in the same way.
He likes having ten fingers and toes.
Technically, speaking, he could consolidate Liu Qingge’s position under another peak lord for a short duration. The mountain has done this before for tricky, unexpected transitions in leadership, but each time it has happened, the peaks’ ranks became confused and resentment brewed among the disciples.
Really, the best thing for the situation would be to somehow keep Liu Qingge exactly where he is for as long as humanly possible.
Ideally, unmarried.
Even more ideally: not pregnant or in danger thereof.
But for that to happen, the Liu family must be pacified, distracted, or alienated entirely.
Despite what sounds to be a complex and undesirable dynamic between themselves and their relatives, Liu Qingge and Mingyan seem to be hesitant to pursue the last option.
They are extremely pious, those two, when it comes to authority. They are well-bred in that way.
So that leaves pacification or distraction.
Or murder? Xiao Jiu suggests.
Murder, Yue Qingyuan reminds him, is not on the table. They are working with pacification or distraction.
Poison? Death by a thousand arrows? A thirty-second dunk in a well?
This is not helpful. Yue Qingyuan needs to think.
Calligraphy might help with that.
Come back here, I’m not done. Xiao-Jiu huffs. Something in here is going to work. Here, listen to this: swap identities, yes? Him and Mingyan. We keep the peak lord, they get the disciple. The son ought to make the heir anyways, no?
No, Yue Qingyuan warns him internally. Liu Mingyan does not deserve to be forced back home any more than Liu Qingge does and even if she went, she would not be well-received. Yue Qingyuan does not know how she attained the changes to her body, but he is fairly sure they are of a type which cannot be easily removed.
Her family may react even more strongly to her than they would Liu Qingge out of a sense of political and bodily betrayal.
Moreover, Qi Qingqi will riot if Yue Qingyuan attempts to separate her from her favorite disciple.
And no one wants Qi Qingqi to riot.
Fine, we’ll fake Liu Qingge’s death then. Throttle him. Make him go blue. Dump the body in the parents’ courtyard. Oh, they will cry; oh, they will moan. And when they go to bury him, we will creep in, in the middle of the night to dig him back up and—
No, no it is all too violent. Liu Qingge is in a delicate state already and anyways, when has anyone faking a death ever worked out for them?
UGH. Fine. Whatever. Why don’t we rig the suitors then? We can find a useless, spineless, money-grubby fuck, the kind that makes a mother weep on sight, and throw him out there into the mix with whatever nobleman’s son this grandfather has excavated from a crony’s ass. Then we can have Liu Qingge ‘fall’ for our lout and ruin his reputation. Oh, I know. We can get him a guy to give him the clap. Or better yet syphilis—
Yue Qingyuan slams his fist on the table.
Xiao Jiu is so smart.
In the morning, Yue Qingyuan goes for a walk. He surveys the disciples. They notice him and wave. He smiles and waves back.
None of them will do.
Mu Qingfang comes up from the pharmacy to discuss the readiness of some of his young disciples for advancement. He lays out his records on the table.Yue Qinqyuan watches him pour tea into a cup as delicate as a fresh spring leaf.
“Zhangmen-shixiong?” Mu Qingfang asks.
No. He won’t do either.
All of these people are too pure of heart.
Yue Qingyuan needs someone with a threatening presence, someone the Liu family will need only to glance at to feel sick to their stomachs.
He sips his tea and crosses another name off on his mental list.
Wu Wang sits with Yue Qingyuan in one of the lowest temple outposts with a scroll in his hands. He remarks on how much cooler the day is than yesterday.
They have been remarking on the weather for the last half an hour. Yue Qingyuan has things to do today. Every second spent in this man’s hostile presence reminds him of that.
He’s perfect, Xiao Jiu sighs dreamily in his head.
And yes, he might be, if only he would allow an opening for Yue Qingyuan to ask quite literally anything of import.
He knows you’re here to ask a favor, Xiao Jiu hums.
Right.
In that case, Liu Qingge’s secret would not rest easy here.
Yue Qingyuan thanks Master Wu Wang for his time and removes himself from the monastery.
Luo Binghe is the next choice on the list—not because he is especially odious, but because he is visibly marked as a demon and Yue Qingyuan fears his list of other options is rapidly dwindling.
He wonders if the mark alone might be enough to make the Liu family grimace.
He does not have high hopes on the matter, but at this point, beggars can’t afford to be choosers.
Yue Qingyuan sends an invite for Luo Binghe to meet with him in his personal room when he returns from the temple.
He goes there himself only to come face to face with the issue at hand when he opens the door.
“Shidi, what is this? Where are you going?” Yue Qingyuan asks of the saddlebags slung over Liu Qingge’s shoulder.
“I said I’d stay another day,” Liu Qingge says.
“Another few days,” Yue Qingyuan reminds him.
Liu Qingge shakes his head.
”It takes days to get there,” he says.
Yue Qingyuan lets out a long breath.
“Let us speak in private,” he says.
“This is anxiety, shidi, not reason,” Yue Qingyuan emphasizes over the table top.
Liu Qingge huffs and crosses his arms.
“With respect, there is no difference to be made here,” he says. “I have to go. If I refuse, they will interfere with the supply lines that lead to this mountain. Don’t think them to be below such tactics, shixiong. The whole sect will suffer.”
“Qingge, listen, I know you take your position as peak lord seriously,” Yue Qingyuan sighs.
“If the juniors on Bai Zhan Peak find out what I am, they will accuse me of lying to them all their lives,” Liu Qingge goes on. “It is better for all if I step away now. My disciple can step in, in my place.”
“Listen to yourself, shidi. Have we learned nothing from Luo Binghe’s fall? This sect cannot afford for another abandoned disciple to cleave his way through its members,” Yue Qingyuan says. “I am only asking you to be patient. I have devised a plan already.”
Liu Qingge’s eyebrow twitches upwards.
“A plan,” he deadpans.
“Indeed. Now, this shixiong will not pretend it is a foolproof one, nor that it will be a pleasurable experience, but there is a strong likelihood that—”
“Are you going to talk forever? Just say what the plan is.”
Yue Qingyuan clears his throat.
“Well,” he says. “My plan is to send you home with a man.”
Liu Qingge balks.
“A man,” he repeats in disgust.
“Indeed.”
“What man?”
“One so terrible that he will make your poor family shudder. See, if you pretend that you are already tainted by this abysmal man, then perhaps your family will see fit to step away from this affair as quickly as possible.”
Liu Qingge blinks as slowly frogs do.
“This is the sect leader’s plan?” he says.
Got a better one, you fucking loser? Xiao Jiu demands.
“Who is meant to be this man?”
“See, that I am working on as we speak,” Yue Qingyuan says.
“So you don’t know.”
“Patience, Liu-shidi. This shixiong will know very soon, I promise.”
“Right. Waiting now will make everything worse,” Liu Qingge says, shaking his head. “It is better if I leave while there is light.”
“Do you not believe that this sect leader knows what he is doing? Do you not think I have your best interest at heart?” Yue Qingyuan asks.
“Zhangmen-shixiong,” Liu Qingge sighs.
“What is this? After all we have been through, you do not trust me?”
“It is not a matter of trust. It is a matter of practicality. Grandfather has already devised a suitor for me, I told you.”
“And I guarantee you that I can find you one a thousand times worse,” Yue Qingyuan says. “A complete low-life, believe you me. Your family will not be able to bear the dishonor of offering you to their chosen suitor after they have seen you at the side of this other man.”
Liu Qingge glances nervously to the door.
“Do I know this person?” he asks.
“Yes,” Yue Qingyuan says. “But not to worry, you two will work things out. Shixiong has complete and total faith in both of you. He will be here soon.”
Liu Qingge scratches lightly at his scalp.
“Is your hair tied too tightly, shidi?” Yue Qingyuan asks. “Let me fix it for you.”
“It’s fine.”
“Don’t be stubborn. Come here, you are so uncomfortable.”
“I’m about to be pregnant, shouldn’t I be?”
Yue Qingyuan feels his cheek twitch at the reminder.
“Sure,” he says stiffly. “Regardless, come sit. I’ll fix it while we wait.”
Luo Binghe is late, Liu Qingge is nervous, and Yue Qingyuan has now had no fewer than forty second-thoughts on the suitability of Luo Binghe for this assignment.
Guess you’ll have to do it, Xiao Jiu says.
If only he could.
Yue Qingyuan has not forgotten his days of street living. His shizun once informed him, after meditating for some time in isolation on the morality of holding one’s disciple’s feet to molten steel, that his so-called ‘hypervigilance’ and ‘propensity for foul language’ were sure to eventually serve a great purpose in Yue Qingyuan’s life.
He was right on account of the hypervigilance.
He was wrong about the foul language.
(The foul language, in fact, saw Yue Qingyuan subjected to the routine whack of a fan until Shizun, by the grace of heaven, ascended.)
Yue Qingyuan could dredge up those habits and worse now with nothing more than a snap of his fingers if needed, however, he no longer has the freedom of a disciple.
There are expenses to track and people to keep from murdering each other in cold blood, and Yue Qingyuan is reluctant to delegate those tasks after so tumultuous a period in the mountain’s history.
“Shixiong, this junior really has asked too much of you,” Liu Qingge says when the sun has begun sinking below the horizon. “Please, will you now let me go?”
“Your permission was revoked,” Yue Qingyuan reminds him without looking up from his calligraphy.
Liu Qingge looks wistfully at the dying light outside.
“Sit, you’re giving this shixiong indigestion,” Yue Qingyuan says.
Liu Qingge continues to pace the floor.
“Liu-Shidi.”
“I have waited too long already. Just let me go. None of this will matter. I swear to you. After the son is born, I will return.”
“Liu-shidi, I am asking nicely.”
Liu clips the edge of the table with his shin. Ink splatters onto the table, the floor, Yue Qingyuan’s hands, lap and face.
He holds his brush perfectly still along with his breath. He does not need to look to see Liu Qingge cringing like his life depends on it.
“Shixiong,” he says.
“I am no longer asking,” Yue Qingyuan announces.
Liu Qingge does not go down easy per se, but he does eventually go down. Yue Qingyuan is much heavier than him, and he is not expecting his sect leader to launch himself from across the room with intent to stun if not subdue. The sound inside the room is tremendous, what with Liu Qingge reacting to his abrupt floor-proximity with his usual tactical acumen.
From outside the room, Yue Qingyuan can only imagine what the racket sounds like.
He gets a better sense of that when a cough sounds out and he and Liu Qingge turn at the same time to see that the door has opened. Luo Binghe watches them from its wide mouth with eyes the size of the moon.
Yue Qingyuan takes a moment to appreciate his position. Liu Qingge, laid out flat on the floor beneath him, does the same. Their hands are too full of each other’s clothing to come off as anything particularly decent.
“Hello, Luo Binghe,” Yue Qingyuan greets amiably. “Would you mind closing that door behind you?”
The door is respectfully closed.
“Are you alright, Zhangmen-shixiong?” Luo Binghe asks. “Is this guy offending you?”
Liu Qingge takes that moment to activate the first of his many silences. Still on the floor, he glances pointedly from Luo Binghe to Yue Qingyuan.
“Be good,” Yue Qingyuan warns him.
“You are out of your fucking mind,” Liu Qingge snaps.
“Shidi, I will not ask you to watch your tone again.”
Luo Binghe’s eyebrows launch themselves to the top of his brow at the admonishment.
“No. This was truly all for nothing, like I told you it would be from the start,” Liu Qingge says, “I’ve had enough; I’m leaving, and you will not stop me this time.”
Anger flashes through Yue Qingyuan’s mind the way lightning brightens the sky.
What follows is a flood of peace through his veins in place of rain.
Yue Qingyuan centers himself and sits neatly back on his heels.
Uh-oh, Xiao Jiu sing-songs.
“My most sincere apologies, Binghe-shizhi. The situation has changed suddenly,” Yue Qingyuan tells Luo Binghe with a smile. “Your services here are no longer required.”
Terror drains the color from both juniors’ faces.
“Oh,” Luo Binghe says. “That’s okay, shixiong. I will gratefully rise to any occasion presented by the sect leader. Yes. Even if it involves collaborating with Liu-shixiong. It is no trouble at all.”
Liu Qingge more or less has the same reaction, though without words. He raises a hand in half-surrender.
It is too little, too late.
“No, no, come stand by me now, Liu-shidi,” Yue Qingyuan says brightly. “I have had enough of these games. Luo Binghe, you are dismissed. Thank you very much for making the journey. Good night.”
Liu Qingge and Luo Binghe exchange quick glances.
“Are you okay?” Luo Binghe mouths.
Liu Qingge directs his eyes towards Yue Qingyuan. Luo Binghe does the same.
“Go,” Liu Qingge says.
“Are you sure?”
“I said go.”
Nervously, Luo Binghe creeps back to the door and slips out into the hall. With privacy recaptured, Yue Qingyuan gestures for Liu Qingge to come and sit at his side behind the ink-splattered table again.
When Liu Qingge hesitates, Yue Qingyuan gives him a hand and half-drags him across the floor.
Jovially, he slings an arm across his shoulders.
“I am trying to help you, Liu-shidi,” he says in a low tone.
Liu Qingge manages to look everywhere but at his face. The lack of respect ignites an impulse Yue Qingyuan wishes and hoped he’d long buried. He snatches ahold of Liu Qingge’s chin and forces his eyes upwards.
Xiao Jiu roars in delight in his mind.
Countless masters did this to them. Yue Qingyuan wakes sometimes with the phantom touch of hands on his face.
He isn’t proud of it.
He is, in fact, ashamed of it, and as soon as he realizes what he has done, he drops his fingers from Liu Qingge’s skin and tucks them into his waistband.
“I will go with you,” he eventually says.
Liu Qingge’s eyes shoot wide.
“No,” he says.
“This is the only choice you have left me.”
“Shixiong, I beg of you. Shixiong, please. I will not insult you again, I swear.”
They are long past promises now.
“Shhh,” Yue Qingyuan soothes, “I will make arrangements. Tomorrow morning, you and I shall leave this peak as intended husband and wife. Are we at an understanding, Liu-shidi?”
There is a long pause in which Liu Qingge finally seems to grasp that this bitter vegetable is what he has grown from the seeds he has sown through ingratitude and impatience.
“Yes, Zhangmen-shixiong,” he says.
“Good boy. Take a seat. I will fetch additional bedding. I see that I cannot trust you not to flee in the night.”