Chapter Text
Despite any evidence to the contrary, Shang Qinghua and Shen Qingqiu are rather intelligent men, armed with a combination of high levels of cultivation and creativity unique to two men who lived their lives online prior to getting booted somewhere a little more exciting. So it is natural that they end up creating a new method of communication, one that is more instant and one that they share between just the two of them, much to the ire of their respective husbands.
It involves both of them carrying matching jade tokens, each with a small slot on the side. One would need to simply roll up their message into a small scroll and slide it into the slot before feeding it a little bit of spiritual energy. It would then vanish, reappearing in the slot of the matching token. It is the closest thing they get to texting and despite it being onerous, Shang Qinghua and Shen Qingqiu still have their fun with it.
Yet there is one thing they haven’t accounted for. It is something they’ve forgotten after years of living in a world where any letter sent is either incredibly stuffy and formal, movingly heartfelt, or written in such a poetic way that sometimes one’s eyes simply glaze over instead of absorbing a single word.
And that one thing is this—
Shen Qingqiu has been waiting a majority of the day for a reply from Shang Qinghua. They’re supposed to meet up this evening at an inn not too far from the foot of Cang Qiong mountain to catch up, make fun of each other, and just generally hang out.
Yes, they are somewhat neighbors in the mountains and could always just visit each other’s homes at their respective peaks. But Luo Binghe and Mobei Jun are off to fend off an invading demonic horde at the borderlands and Shen Qingqiu is bored, for lack of a better word. So is Shang Qinghua, so the two of them have decided they’re going to dress up as ordinary men and have a pleasant dinner at a place that does not require too much propriety and manners, nor radiates an immense amount of demonic energy.
Except Shang Qinghua hasn’t responded to the last tiny scroll that Shen Qingqiu has sent, not for the past few hours. Shen Qingqiu normally does not feel tetchy about these kinds of things, but he does not want Shang Qinghua to change their plans at the last minute again. He knows he can just go to An Ding peak himself but chasing after Airplane Bro just because he didn’t reply back is beneath him (for now).
He gives it till the late afternoon, deciding to carry out his duties as a teacher for a change and conduct a few lessons before he sends Shang Qinghua another scroll through his jade token.
Have you received my other message? Are we still meeting at the Blooming Lotus Inn?
Shen Qingqiu writes the brief message in elegant but pointed characters. He rolls up the paper, tying a small piece of red thread around it before sliding it into the slot. Once it has been secured, Shen Qingqiu channels a small amount of energy and glares it down till the paper disappears in a small wisp of sparkling smoke.
It’s not until Shang Qinghua wakes up from his afternoon food-induced sleep coma that he realizes why he’s had the faint feeling he’s been missing something all day. He startles up from where he had been slumped over his desk, imprints of his sleeve quite visible on his pinkened cheek.
An Ding Peak as a whole doesn’t often have much excitement in the ways of the more sensuous pleasures of the world. However, an emissary from the Northern Palace had shown up with a trunk full of fine cuisine courtesy of Shang Qinghua’s currently absent husband, much to the well-masked disapproval of a visiting Yue Qingyuan. Shang Qinghua had managed to eat a normal amount while in the presence of his Shixiong, and had divided the sweets amongst his disciples well. But the food really was too good, and when Yue Qingyuan took his leave, Shang Qinghua may have gorged a little too much before promptly passing out at his desk, where he had initially sat down to do some work.
And had also completely failed to remember that Shen Qingqiu had sent him a message this morning, wanting to double check that they were still good to meet up in the evening. There’s a small poof from across the room and a tiny scroll appears in the jade token Shang Qinghua had carefully set on a shelf before promptly forgetting about it.
Hurriedly, Shang Qinghua tears a piece of paper in half, before scrawling out a hasty message.
Sorry, missed your other message. I thought we were just meeting at the inn; it’s up to you. It doesn’t matter to me.
He sends it off, before turning back his attention to the trunk that now sits at the foot of his bed. Most of the food’s gone, but there’s still a tiny wooden box full of osmanthus cakes that can only be opened by Shang Qinghua. A feeling of warmth rises within him, and he promptly gets distracted.
“It doesn’t matter to me?” Shen Qingqiu frowns as he reads the scroll, and rolls his eyes. Of course Shang Qinghua would be so flippant about this. It’s not like that man has anything better to do.
(To be fair, neither does Shen Qingqiu, not really. Being married to an OP demon lord has really chipped away at his work ethic.)
He suppresses an irritated twitch; after all, Shang Qinghua can’t help but be annoying. It’s in his nature. It is so much in his nature that right now, Shen Qingqiu isn’t quite sure why he agreed to dinner in the first place. After all, it doesn’t matter to Shang Qinghua.
Then he remembers that he has been craving pork and cabbage dumplings all day, but his husband is not here to make them on demand. The inn they’ve chosen is rather well known for its spicy dishes, and Shen Qingqiu would be remiss if he were to give up an opportunity to try the food.
Sighing, Shen Qingqiu replies to Shang Qinghua.
Is this still something you want to do?
“Huh, that’s rather considerate of him,” Shang Qinghua says to himself as he reads the message. It’s not always (read: not ever) that Shen Qingqiu will check in with Shang Qinghua to see if he’s still game for whatever they’ve got planned. Normally, he just demands and Shang Qinghua follows along.
Wiping his fingers off on his pants and making sure the paper doesn’t get sticky, Shang Qinghua writes his response.
As I said, it doesn’t matter to me. Though, he actually would like to meet with Shen Qingqiu. He’s been in a rather good mood lately, and it’s been a while since the two of them have been able to kick back and bicker out loud instead of exchanging odd, contorted expressions across the table at a peak lord meeting. The inn they’ve picked has a rather good selection of food as well, and Shang Qinghua could really go for some braised duck. Just to be nice in return, Shang Qinghua adds another sentence. Nice choice of place by the way. Really your caliber.
There, Shang Qinghua smiles to himself as he pops the last piece of cake into his mouth and rolls up his scroll. Shen Qingqiu won’t admit out loud, but he does like getting his ego stroked every now and then. The inn he’s chosen is rather nice but more importantly, Shang Qinghua wants him to forget that Shang Qinghua forgot to reply to him earlier, just so that Shang Qinghua doesn’t get nagged for a majority of their dinner.
Absently, he wonders if this was also the inn that had fish fry so spicy that Mu Qingfang ended up in tears in front of his senior disciples.
"My caliber?” Shen Qingqiu says the words out loud incredulously as he stares at the message. Ning Yingying startles from where she was practicing her form under his watchful eye, and he waves her off.
“Focus on using your elbow more than your shoulder,” Shen Qingqiu calls out and Ning Yingying frowns for a moment—she had been doing just that. She had been doing perfect, really, but Shen Qingqiu’s mood has gotten spoiled by Shang Qinghua’s note. Shang Qinghua can be a bit of a weasel, but he didn’t expect him to bring so much attitude.
They were just meeting up for a meal!
Airplane Bro has clearly let whatever power he’s managed to squeeze out of this world get to his head. Or maybe it’s just his inherent weaselly nature. Either way, Shen Qingqiu tries to not burst a blood vessel as he writes out a response ten minutes later.
You are really...
...priceless.
Wow, Shen-dada must have gotten a headstart on the drinking for the day, because he’s being unusually nice!
Shang Qinghua frowns at the note and wonders if he’s missing something. Normally Shen Qingqiu is only this nice if he wants something and so far, there’s been no scheme or shenanigans that they’ve needed to undertake.
Maybe he has finally gone stir crazy. After all, both Luo Binghe and Mobei Jun have been at the borderlands for a whole week by now. Normally with how crazily overpowered the two men are, they wouldn’t take this long to put down an attacking army. But Shang Qinghua knows that at the border they’ve been defending, there’s also a rather rare crop of crystals that Luo Binghe will covet for Shen Qingqiu. This protagonist son of Shang Qinghua’s will undoubtedly drag Mobei Jun with him into the deep caverns to defeat whatever slimy cave monster Shang Qinghua had written in, just so that he could get something shiny for that catlike husband of his.
Idly, Shang Qinghua’s mind drifts to what new, cool, and potentially terrifying thing that Mobei Jun will bring back for him, before he remembers that he needs to respond.
Well, if Shen Qingqiu’s going to compliment him, Shang Qinghua might as well return it right? So, as a writer well versed in taking shortcuts, Shang Qinghua writes,
You’re the one who’s priceless, Cucumber bro.
Shen Qingqiu still thinks in colloquial terms; however it’s rare that he slips into casual speech out loud, his lofty immortal demeanor too well-honed for him to misstep. Unless he’s filled with an immense rage. Specifically, immense rage directed towards a very special fellow transmigrator.
Man, screw this guy.
A vein in his forehead throbs, and there’s nothing he’d like to do more than to give Shang Qinghua a good thrashing. He’s so annoyed that he barely pretends to be paying attention to the small gathering of disciples in the training yard now, all who are trying to show off to their Shizun. This time he’s so vexed that his neat handwriting gives way to a more angry chicken scratch.
Oh, you want to go right now?
Shang Qinghua squints at the latest message. Hm. It’s still early in the evening but the day has felt rather long, even if he hasn’t been the most productive with it.
He’s currently sitting in one of An Ding’s tiny libraries, dictating to a few of his older disciples what kind of inventory lists they’ll need to collect from the other peaks and see what kind of supplies the mountain sect needs to bring in. Technically he’s got more work to do on top of this before he can take off, but he’s a good teacher. He’s trained his disciples well to take his place when he’s absent. Which in his case, is more often than not.
“Wang Yichen!” he calls out, and one of his more senior disciples pokes her head around the corner. “Can you dictate the lists for the fifth to twelfth peaks?”
“Yes Shizun!” Wang Yichen cups her hands and bows, and Shang Qinghua sends off a Let’s go before he says goodbye to his disciples, ruffling the hair of one of them on his way out. He stretches as he looks out into the distance, seeing the faint silhouette of Qing Jing peak in the distance. The sun has started its slow descent down, and the air is rather crisp.
In a good mood, Shang Qinghua whistles to himself as he heads back to the Leisure House to grab his belongings.
“Let’s go?!” Shen Qingqiu exclaims to himself, staring at the letter. “Let’s go?”
Shang Qinghua was really getting too bold! Was he forgetting just how much martial prowess Shen Qingqiu had? How much martial prowess the great Xiu Ya had?! Where was his respect!
Shen Qingqiu, angry enough from the last letter, had to take leave of his students lest they saw him do something unbecoming like use strange words to curse their shibo towards the high heavens. He’s sitting now at his desk in the bamboo house, thinking of five different ways to strangle Shang Qinghua. Not to death of course, but maybe until he learned how to behave.
“This man has a death wish,” Shen Qingqiu mutters to himself, trailing off into incoherent mumbling. “You want to go? You’re really that desperate for a beating?”
You really want to do this now?
Is Shen Qingqiu having second thoughts about going early? Shang Qinghua frowns at the message. He’s already put on his clothes, and officially taken leave of his students. It wouldn’t look that great if he were to still dawdle around the peak.
Ah, well, it won’t be too hard to convince Shen Qingqiu to come down now. All he needs to say is:
No point backing out now. First round is...
… definitely mine.
Shen Qingqiu wheezes with the audacity of the last message. He can quite clearly picture Shang Qinghua’s smug face as he writes the letter, utterly delusional in thinking that he can actually beat Shen Qingqiu. Shang Qinghua could barely stand up quarter a round against Shen Qingqiu, nevertheless a full one!
It’s times like these that Shen Qingqiu wishes the System was still around, solely so that he could send some terrible scenario pusher Shang Qinghua’s way. Instead, he’s going to have to roll up his sleeves and take care of it himself.
Huffing, Shen Qingqiu looks around his room, trying to find something that will intimidate Shang Qinghua. Hanging near one of the shelves is a blade, halfway between a dagger and a sword in length. The hilt is an unearthly dark metallic gray embedded with white jewels while the blade shines in an unnatural manner. Shen Qingqiu recognizes it as a weapon pilfered from the Mobei family decades ago, before Luo Binghe had fallen into the abyss and into an alliance with the heir to the clan. If he remembers correctly, it had been something that his predecessor’s predecessor had won in battle.
Well, that should be good enough to intimidate. He’s not planning to actually hurt Shang Qinghua beyond a casual beating between brothers, but he does want the satisfaction of seeing the other man scurry away in a scared mess.
Steaming the entire time, Shen Qingqiu changes into the plain clothes that he and Shang Qinghua had agreed to meet in. He’s tempted to keep his peak lord splendor on, but if he’s going to create a ruckus, he probably shouldn’t bring shame to Cang Qiong mountain. He rides his sword down to the foot of the mountain, all the way up to where the roof of the inn is, the dark cloudy night hiding his presence in the sky.
By the time he steps in, he can see Shang Qinghua has already gotten them a table in the center of the overly crowded inn. The other man is intently watching an extremely skilled pipa player as he eats toasted sunflower seeds from a small bowl. The dining floor is so bustling that Shang Qinghua doesn’t even have his hairs raised like he normally claims they do when he gets within thirty feet of Shen Qingqiu. People bump into Shen Qingqiu as he stalks towards Shang Qinghua, but he barely takes stock of it. He is incredibly focused on getting to Shang Qinghua and settling this once and for all.
Radiating murderous intent, he approaches Shang Qinghua. Shang Qinghua turns in time to see him, and a huge smile spreads across his face. As if he’s happy, or excited to see Shen Qingqiu. Or both.
It stops Shen Qingqiu in his tracks— he didn’t expect that.
“Shen-dada!” Shang Qinghua exclaims, and waves him over. Shen Qingqiu pauses and raises his eyebrows, clutching the hilt of the long dagger under his sleeve. Shang Qinghua looks rather cheerful for someone who’s about to start a fight. It runs contradictory to what Shang Qinghua normally does during a fight, which is look for the nearest exit with a startled expression.
Shang Qinghua flags down one of the waiters as Shen Qingqiu cautiously approaches the table. He presses a piece of silver into the waiter’s hand and says something into the waiter’s ear. The waiter nods and rushes off, undoubtedly seeing the dark (and mildly confused) cloud hovering over Shen Qingqiu’s head.
“How are you?” Shang Qinghua asks as Shen Qingqiu draws close, gesturing to the seat in front of himself. “I’ve already ordered the wine— when he comes back let’s order some food. I’m starving.”
“The wine?” Shen Qingqiu frowns, not quite sitting yet.
“Yeah,” Shang Qinghua nods, popping another sunflower seed into his mouth. “I told you, the first round’s mine. Second round too, if you want, Yue Qingyuan was rather generous with our allowances this month…”
Shen Qingqiu blinks, staring at Shang Qinghua’s oblivious face.
…Oh.
Clearly, there’s been a bit of a misunderstanding.
He opens his mouth, ready to say something, but figures it’d probably be better if he didn’t. The last thing Shen Qingqiu wants is to give Shang Qinghua material to make fun of him for. Then, Shen Qingqiu really may just have to kill him. Shen Qingqiu slowly takes a seat, trying to subtly tuck the dagger he brought further up his sleeve. Unfortunately, Shang Qinghua catches the action.
“What’s that?” Shang Qinghua asks abruptly, startling Shen Qingqiu enough that he accidentally drops the weapon. It clatters onto the table in front of them, the lethal and ethereal blade gleaming in the inn light. Shang Qinghua squints first at the dagger, then at Shen Qingqiu.
“I…got you a gift?” Shen Qingqiu tries lamely, hoping his face is at least partially convincing. It must be, because Shang Qinghua’s eyes widen with excitement and he eagerly reaches for the dagger.
“Ah, how did you know we were looking for this?” Shang Qinghua says, voice alight as he picks up the weapon and inspects it. Shen Qingqiu really hopes that the dagger isn’t something anyone at Cang Qiong will miss, because it’s about to become a noble sacrifice to save his face.
So instead of telling Shang Qinghua any approximation of the truth, Shen Qingqiu simply schools his face into the same cool and calm demeanor that comes so naturally to him. It hides the fact that mere minutes ago, he was close to getting hoisted by his own petard. The wine comes quickly, fragrant and warm and sweet. After the waiter sets down the pot with a wary look at the dagger that Shang Qinghua is still gleefully examining, Shen Qingqiu artfully pours them both a cup.
“Are we not friends?” As they raise their cups in a toast, Shen Qingqiu simply replies with, “Who would I be if I couldn’t read you?”