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Luo Binghe hadn’t eaten in two days and it had begun to catch up to him. He fumbled awkwardly with the bandages that Ning-shijie had provided him and his clumsy fingers couldn’t properly staunch the bleeding. If he ruined his robes with blood again…
He couldn’t do anything right. He didn’t even know why he’d been punished this time, not worth an explanation for his failure. Luo Binghe closed his eyes tightly and brought his shaking fingers to his chest to close around his mother’s pendant. He only had to take one step at a time. First he needed to wrap his injuries and stop bleeding, then he could focus on the rest of it.
It had been a long two years and Luo Binghe found it easier to keep himself from crying afterwards at least. He clung to that improvement as he fumbled the bandages again. Luo Binghe was so focused on catching them, he wrenched his wounds and let out a pained noise.
He swallowed and breathed hard as he heard footsteps outside the woodshed. At best it was another disciple to laugh at him or Ming Fan to assign more chores he had no hopes of doing in this state. At worst…
The door swung open, too bright light of day cascading a halo around Luo Binghe’s ethereal Shizun’s face.
He swallowed and automatically started babbling apologies even though he knew that seemed to make it worse (everything he did seemed to make to worse).
“Hush,” Shizun said, in a softer voice than Luo Binghe had ever heard.
Luo Binghe blinked furiously as Shizun came closer, kneeling in the dirty wood dusted floor of the shed in front of him. The anger seeping out of Shizun’s face was as unfamiliar enough to worry Luo Binghe had finally pushed himself into a qi deviation.
“Let me see that,” Shizun said and Luo Binghe obeyed immediately, handing him the bandages. Shizun frowned at them and Luo Binghe knew he’d screwed up somehow. Ning-shijie hadn’t said where she’d gotten them from. He truly hoped she hadn’t gone into stores that she’d be caught for—that Luo Binghe would be caught for.
Shizun was frowning at the bandages and looking Luo Binghe over in a way that made him immediately drop his head. He didn’t have enough space to kowtow with how close Shizun was to him.
Luo Binghe watched Shizun’s hands, his elegant fingers clenching into angry fists and winced—the reaction automatic. Shizun hated his flinching. He steeled himself for correction, but only a gentle open palm touched the top of his head.
“It’s all right,” Shizun said, comforting and soft in a way Luo Binghe had never heard him. “You’re going to be all right. You’re the new shidi, yes?”
The phrasing was strange enough for Luo Binghe to open his eyes again and lift his gaze only enough to see Shizun’s face. Was this a trick? Or was Shizun the one who had qi deviated—badly enough to forget how much hated Luo Binghe?
“Shizun?” Luo Binghe asked, quietly.
Shizun’s expression stayed neutral, though his lips twitched like he wanted to frown. Then it softened again and the hand still light on Luo Binghe’s head, gently brushed aside his hair and encouraged him to lift his chin higher.
It was too shadowed in what little light was coming through the door and the small cracks in the woodshed walls to see Shizun’s face clearly—that must’ve been it because Luo Binghe had never seen his teacher’s face with that expression.
There was a strained smile, almost lopsided. “Not quite, but I can understand why you might think so. My name is Shen Yuan. Who is the shidi I’m speaking to?”
Luo Binghe hadn’t heard of Shizun having a relative, let alone one who looked just like him. That didn’t necessarily mean much. It wasn’t as if someone would share that information with him. “This useless disciple is Luo Binghe,” Luo Binghe said, cautiously. The apparent kindness could be a trap if this Shen Yuan was related to Shizun.
“Tch,” Shen Yuan tutted, “not useless. Let me help Luo Binghe, eh? Can I take you to Qian Cao?”
Luo Binghe shook his head, furiously. “No, no, this lowly disciple cannot take up Mu-shishu’s time again.”
Shen Yuan’s lips flattened into a line. There was a flash of familiar anger on his face, but it disappeared and he gave that strained smile again. “I was planning on visiting my good friend Mu Qingfang, anyway. The newest Qing Jing shidi can escort me.”
Shen Yuan held his hand out, palm open. Luo Binghe was reminded of the only nice child of the manor house where his mother got the most work, who used to try and lure stray cats out of their hiding places to feed and coddle.
He gingerly took Shen Yuan’s hand, swallowing past his terror. The responding smile from Shen Yuan left Luo Binghe a little lightheaded in its completely jarring appearance on a face like Shizun’s. He’d never seen Shizun smile like that, even at Ning-shijie.
Shen Yuan coaxed Luo Binghe out a little farther, not once commenting on the way he stumbled to stand, or rushing him when his trepidation got the better of them as they approached the door to outside the shed.
For how often he’d been punished in the woodshed, he sometimes felt like the safety of it was his only escape.
“There we go,” Shen Yuan said, lightly, encouraging as Luo Binghe grimaced against the brightness of the midday sun.
“Shen-shibo!” Ming Fan’s voice called out faster than Luo Binghe’s eyes could adjust and escape the spots clouding his vision. “You—Shizun wouldn’t want you to—the beast—”
“The what?” Shen Yuan asked, the tone so similar to Shizun that Ming Fan straightened up.
“It’s…an internal matter,” Ming Fan said, his shoulders hunched up almost to his ears.
“Feel free to tattle on me, Ming Fan,” Shen Yuan said dryly, using a nudge of qi to knock him off balance enough that he wasn't directly in their path. “I’m taking your new shidi to Qian Cao.”
“But!”
“Don’t call me Shibo if you’re going to be this disappointing to me, Ming Fan,” Shen Yuan said, his tone was almost gentle but Ming Fan flinched like he’d been slapped.
Luo Binghe was almost certain he’d see Ming Fan start crying until the other boy shook his head and then ran off.
Shen Yuan was frowning after him. He glanced down at Luo Binghe and his frown increased—in the sunlight he didn’t look less like Shizun, but Luo Binghe could see a faint scar that traversed the center of his face like someone had tried to cut him and he’d turned too quickly.
“Would Luo Binghe be all right if we took my sword?” Shen Yuan asked.
Luo Binghe nodded, unsure of how else to respond. He was aware that whatever this was would likely get interrupted or have consequences, but he couldn’t exactly argue with Shen Yuan. Shen-shibo. He didn’t want to either.
Shen Yuan responding smile was pleased. He called his sword out and hopped on with a single movement that had more function than grace and Luo Binghe carefully took his hand to assist on standing on it. He’d never gotten to fly on a sword before.
***
Luo Binghe wasn’t sure he wanted to fly on a sword again with the way Shen Yuan flew one. By the time they landed on Qian Cao Peak, Luo Binghe’s stomach felt like it was in his throat. He was suddenly glad he hadn’t eaten recently.
Luo Binghe did his best to nod politely and not show that on his face when Shen Yuan asked if he was all right. It was better not to cause even more of a fuss than he already was. Now that his feet were on the ground again dread crawled up his spine. This was his fault. He should’ve stayed quiet and then he’d be sleeping off his wounds without disturbing anyone.
He was imagining how upset Shizun was going to be when he found out how much Luo Binghe had bothered his relative. Brother. Twin. Luo Binghe was thinking too much that he didn’t even notice when they were approached by another Qian Cao disciple who listened to Shen Yuan’s instructions and then took Luo Binghe behind a curtained area. He’d been in one of these only once before.
Luo Binghe had been punished afterwards. Shizun explained what he’d done wrong that time at least. He’d shamed the peak with his weakness for needing help for such minor injuries. Luo Binghe didn’t think he could handle being locked in the woodshed without food for a week again.
“Ah, Shen-shibo?” the Qian Cao disciple called out and then Shen Yuan pushed the curtain back and stepped through. His eyebrows raised at the sight of Luo Binghe with his top layer of robes stripped down.
“Shen Yuan,” Shen Yuan said to the Qian Cao disciple, distractedly. He was staring so hard at Luo Binghe’s bare skin that Luo Binghe automatically tried to cover himself up. Shen Yuan blinked suddenly and then drew his head up. He cleared his throat. “Sorry, Han Ping, was it?”
The disciple nodded his head. “Yes, ah, also Shen-shibo is Shen-shibo not Peak Lord Shen,” Han Ping said, with a tentative smile. “This one remembers.”
Shen Yuan’s returning smile was a little tense. “What do you need?”
“Shizun should take another look at these injuries,” Han Ping said, then smiled at Luo Binghe, as if remembering he was there. “Little shixiong will get good care here, this one promises.”
Luo Binghe nodded, for nothing better to do and watched as Han Ping and Shen Yuan murmured something to each other, before Han Ping left and closed the curtain again.
“I’m sorry,” Shen Yuan said, strained. He shakily brought his hand out and then pulled it back again. “I promise this will not—this is not going to happen again.”
Luo Binghe wasn’t sure what ‘this’ was, but he nodded again, as it seemed to placate him.
It was not too much longer before the curtain opened again. Mu Qingfang’s eyes brightened on seeing Shen Yuan. “Yuan-er!”
Shen Yuan’s mouth twisted into a funny shape that wasn’t a smile or a frown. “Don’t start with that. It’s bad enough you’ve got your baby disciples calling me Shen-shibo.”
“That is the accurate title for you,” Mu Qingfang said, primly and then immediately switched his attention to Luo Binghe. His expression stayed calm and pleasant, but Luo Binghe had grown accustomed to staying aware of any small ticks that an adult might have to show their displeasure.
Mu Qingfang was kind and calm, asking for Luo Binghe’s wrist and frowning only a little. He was likely seeing how pathetic Luo Binghe’s cultivation had come in two whole years here. Luo Binghe tried to swallow the panic of being thrown off the mountain for his failures.
Mu Qingfang treated the whip marks on his back, his warm energy knitting the skin together so lightly Luo Binghe almost didn’t notice until the pain had receded. He put some minty smelling salve on Luo Binghe’s back afterwards and helped him into some patient robes that fit better than Luo Binghe’s current disciple ones.
Mu Qingfang and Shen Yuan stepped outside the curtain after excusing themselves. They spoke quietly, but the only thing Luo Binghe had been able to manage was learning how to sharpen his hearing. It had been a necessary survival tactic. It was one of the few skills he’d been able to develop before reaching Cang Qiong Mountain. He only seemed to fail here.
“How long has this been going on?” Shen Yuan asked.
“Apologies, Shen Yuan…this master was unaware of the extent of Shen-shixiong’s… methods.”
“Right,” Shen Yuan said, his voice flat and angry in a way that made Luo Binghe slide further back on his cot.
“We can keep him here overnight and speak with Zhangmen-shixiong in the morning,” Mu Qingfang offered to Luo Binghe’s distress.
“No,” Shen Yuan said, shortly. “I’ll deal with it myself.”
“If you’re certain,” Mu Qingfang said, warily.
“Oh, I’m certain,” Shen Yuan said. His anger was quiet which was like Shizun, but there was a burn to it that was different enough to keep Luo Binghe from the urge to crawl completely off the cot. Shen Qingqiu’s anger was always cold.
Mu Qingfang and Shen Yuan returned, smiling and calm. Contrary to what they’d discussed they did ask him to stay at Qian Cao, but Luo Binghe refused, knowing how much worse it would be if he did so.
Eventually they relented and Luo Binghe had to ride Shen Yuan’s sword again. He was a little more hesitant this time getting on, but Shen Yuan only chuckled and told him he could hold on if he got nervous.
Luo Binghe did not ignore that and gripped Shen Yuan’s robes tightly, leaning into his back as they flew far too fast through the air.
***
Shen Yuan took one look at Luo Binghe when they landed. Then he practically herded Luo Binghe straight to the dining hall. Luo Binghe shook as they approached, seeing the eyes land on them and Shen Yuan put a careful hand on the top of his back where there were no whip marks (which had been healed enough that Luo Binghe could easily ignore them) and led him inside.
Luo Binghe watched as several older disciples went from confusion to excitement and called out to ‘Shen-shibo’ who rolled his eyes at them. The completely casual action on a face as elegant and composed as Shen Qingqiu’s was jarring, but… nice.
Luo Binghe had been worried the usual would happen when he tried to sneak into the dining hall, but no one even seemed to give him much notice. Shen Yuan piled on two plates and settled at a table that was immediately full of shixiong and shijie that either never gave half a notice to Luo Binghe or took any opportunity to trip him while he was doing chores.
Shen Yuan paid attention to each them, smiling and chatting about their current lessons. He never made Luo Binghe feel invisible and would occasionally glance down to make sure he was eating, or try and explain some part of the conversation Luo Binghe wouldn’t have had context for.
Luo Binghe didn’t want to inform him that he wouldn't have had context or understood most things that these disciples were discussing.
It was one of the nicest evenings he’d had since he joined Qing Jing Peak. The only thing comparable was when Ning-shijie and he were able to sneak off and she would share her meal with him.
“Has Luo Binghe been to any of the other peaks?” Shen Yuan asked him as they left a crowd of disappointed disciples in the dining hall and made their way in a familiar and unwanted direction.
“Qian Cao,” Luo Binghe said, quietly.
Shen Yuan frowned. “Only today?”
“No… this l—this one has been once before,” Luo Binghe answered, dutifully. His nose had been too broken to see or breathe and Ning-shijie had insisted on it. “Are…can this one ask where we are going?” Luo Binghe knew, but he desperately hoped there was another answer.
“The Bamboo House,” Shen Yuan said, “I’m going to speak with your Shizun.”
He said ‘speak’ the same way Shizun did, where it never meant that. It was a polite way of saying punish around others. Luo Binghe didn’t know what to make of that either.
“Binghe?” Shen Yuan asked, carefully.
Luo Binghe hadn’t realized he’d frozen in place until he did so. The familiarity of the name catching him off guard. He stared up at Shen Yuan and grimaced. “This one doesn’t want to make trouble for Shen Yuan.”
Shen Yuan sighed and put his hand on Luo Binghe’s head, broadcasting the movement so obviously that Luo Binghe could have moved aside if he wanted to. He patted the top of his head. “Don’t worry about that, eh? I’m always bringing trouble. It’s nice to have company.”
***
Luo Binghe couldn’t pretend he didn’t mean to eavesdrop once Shizun had caught sight of them and Shen Yuan had told him to wait by the steps for him. He hunkered into the nearest shadow, hoping no one like Ming Fan would notice him (or also Ning-shijie—she had a way of getting him caught up in more trouble when he was already in deep).
“You swore you wouldn’t take anymore disciples after the last one,” Shen Yuan said.
“I don’t recall that,” Shizun said, icily as if to chill the heat from Shen Yuan’s tone.
“Bullshit,” Shen Yuan snapped. “We talked about this before I left!” There was a thumping noise Luo Binghe couldn’t identify, the cadence of it made him think maybe it was stomping feet or someone was slamming their fist onto one of the walls. “You agreed with me!”
“You left!” Shizun said, sharply. “Any agreements left with you. You stayed away long enough I’ve had several disciples since.”
Luo Binghe flinched as the next noise startled him—that was definitely something being thrown into a wall. It obfuscated whatever Shen Yuan’s response was—all Luo Binghe caught was the anger in his voice.
“They can’t truly have that much potential if they’re weak enough to be run off like scurrying rats,” Shizun replied. “You spend so much time with beasts, you're starting to hallucinate the humanity in them.
“Wow, didn’t think I’d ever hear Qiu Jianluo again, but he—” Shen Yuan was cut off by the familiar sound of flesh hitting flesh.
One of them made a strangled noise, almost like pain.
Shen Yuan—Luo Binghe was fairly certain—chuckled, humorless. “You’re going to have to hit harder than that if you want me to feel him again too. Or does that not work since I’m big enough to fight back?”
Luo Binghe heard another thump—if he hadn’t done it so many times himself he wouldn’t have known it was knees hitting the floor. He couldn’t quite decipher Shizun’s words, but they sounded strained and not angry—but certainly not calm.
Several moments of their conversation passed, too quietly for Luo Binghe to catch anything concrete, even when he strained his limited skills. Most of it sounded like the tempering soft quality of Shen Yuan’s voice, the one he’d had when he was coaxing Luo Binghe out of the woodshed. There was the occasional snap that was Shizun, but also a voice that was but wasn’t Shizun—it was difficult to picture that much emotion in his voice that wasn’t anger.
“The fuck am I going to teach? Poetry?” Shen Yuan finally said, loud enough to catch. “I can’t exactly play anymore.”
Luo Binghe felt his ears itch and his face felt hot at the vulgarity. He was almost (almost) upset he couldn’t see someone with Shizun’s regal face say something like that.
“You don’t need to play for them, you merely need to correct their errors.” There was a weighted pause. “…you remember how.”
“I’d rather not repeat that technique, thanks,” Shen Yuan said, dryly. “Fuck, fine. Give me the ones who… trigger you the most. Also, I’m pretending to be you and firing any Hall Masters that piss me off.”
Shizun made a noise between a scoff and a laugh.
“We’re not done talking about this,” Shen Yuan said, more seriously.
There was no response from Shizun, but Luo Binghe heard footsteps and slid back to his original position by the staircase, keeping his head down and breathing carefully as the footsteps descended the stairs.
A gentle hand landed on his head. “Do you have anything you need out of the woodshed?” Shen Yuan asked.
Luo Binghe risked looking up. He couldn’t see Shizun at the door, but he could feel his eyes on them anyway. He swallowed. “Need for what?” he asked, quietly.
“Until we… figure this out,” Shen Yuan said. “I have quarters still near the Hall Masters. Binghe can stay with me tonight and we’ll see about the best place for him to go in the morning, mm?”
Luo Binghe felt his himself shaking and he fought down the urge to start crying. He bowed, sad to lose the touch of Shen Yuan’s hand still resting on his head. “This lowly disciple begs Shen Yuan to please not expel him.”
“What?” Shen Yuan made a strangled noise and then grabbed Luo Binghe’s shoulders, dragging him up from his attempt at a kowtow. “No! Look at me, okay?”
Luo Binghe looked at him.
“Luo Binghe did nothing wrong,” Shen Yuan said, “Your shizun did. And tomorrow we’ll talk about where the best place on Cang Qiong is for Binghe.”
Luo Binghe still didn’t quite understand, so he nodded carefully.
Shen Yuan sighed and squeezed Luo Binghe’s shoulders before guiding him back towards the woodshed to collect his things.
***
Luo Binghe did end up crying, but only when Shen Yuan tried to insist he sleep on the bed while Shizun’s brother slept on a bedroll spread on his floor. He worried about the backlash for his weakness, but Shen Yuan instead panicked and almost immediately gave in, allowing Luo Binghe to sleep on the bedroll.
He spent half the night staring at Shen Yuan’s sleeping form. He was so… unlike Shizun. If they didn’t look so similar Luo Binghe wasn’t certain they could even be from the same family
Shen Yuan had briefly explained they were twins. That they’d both joined the Sect at the same time and that Shen Yuan used to assist as a senior disciple before he’d left to go exploring several years ago. Luo Binghe hadn’t gotten anymore relevant details after that, because Shen Yuan started to talk about the creatures he’d seen on his travels and kept sliding into entertaining tangents that would completely transform his features with delight. He didn’t look anything like Shen Qingqiu when he did that and Luo Binghe found he liked it a lot. So he encouraged it and kept asking questions.
Shen Yuan would grin and pat his head if he asked one that he found clever. Luo Binghe had no idea how his lack of knowledge equated to cleverness, but he soaked in the praise all the same.
The next morning Shen Yuan made them a simple breakfast and discussed all the different peaks with Luo Binghe and suggested where he might be the best fit and Luo Binghe stared at his hands and tried not to cry again. He failed the task miserably and then found himself wrapped into a hug, soaking Shen Yuan’s robes.
He hadn’t been hugged since his mother died.
Ning-shijie would cling to his arm and was very kind to him, but the comfort of arms surrounding him filled an aching emptiness, Luo Binghe didn’t realize he’d missed. He cried harder, which had the added benefit of Shen Yuan stroking his hair.
Luo Binghe was embarrassed afterwards, but Shen Yuan was still kind and helped him wash his face promising not to tell anyone.
“You don’t have to leave Qing Jing,” Shen Yuan said, softly. “I just thought it might be easier for Binghe to get a fresh start somewhere else.”
Luo Binghe shook his head. He didn't want to think about how much worse another peak would be. At least they all knew how stupid he was here. He couldn’t go through disappointing everyone all over again.
“This one…wants to get better,” Luo Binghe said, careful and hesitant with each word.
“Better at what?” Shen Yuan asked. “The Four Arts? This senior can probably assist with three of them, but you’re out of luck with strategy games.”
“Everything,” Luo Binghe said. He gingerly brought up his cultivation manual (one of the few things he had in the woodshed), resting it on the table so it wouldn’t shake along with his hands. “This disciple called themselves useless, because they are.”
Shen Yuan sighed and then his gaze drew down to the manual and his brows creased. “Let me see that.”
Luo Binghe handed him his cultivation manual, hopeful after the last day that Shen Yuan wasn’t an elaborate liar and about to steal and destroy it before kicking him off the mountain.
Shen Yuan opened the book and frowned at the pages. Then he flipped through and frowned more. Then he flipped another page and his eyebrows raised. He slammed the book shut and stood, looking serious again.
“Shen-shibo?” Luo Binghe asked, tentatively.
Shen Yuan tucked the book under his arm. “Classes are starting soon, aren’t they?” At Luo Binghe’s blank look, Shen Yuan’s jaw shifted. “Binghe doesn’t have classes scheduled?”
He shook his head.
Shen Yuan pinched the bridge of his nose. “All right. Are there any disciples near your age other than Ming Fan?”
“Ning-shijie?” Luo Binghe said, carefully.
“Do you know what class your Ning-shijie is in this morning?” Shen Yuan asked.
Luo Binghe nodded and then Shen Yuan smiled, like he’d done something right. It sent a shot of warmth into his stomach that settled well with the fullness that was there from eating two meals in a row.
***
Shen Yuan didn’t let Luo Binghe explain that he likely wouldn’t be allowed in class if he tried and instead walked with him to the calligraphy lesson that Ning-shijie was in. She seemed to be the only person who didn’t know who Shen-shibo was, but got very excited when she found out Shizun had a twin.
Shen Yuan went to talk to the Hall Master teaching the class and Luo Binghe was too distracted by Ning Yingying’s chattering questions about Shen Yuan to listen in, but neither of them looked happy about whatever they were discussing. The Hall Master nodded his assent and Luo Binghe wasn’t kicked out of the classroom after Shen Yuan went to ‘take care of something’ still holding onto Luo Binghe’s cultivation manual.
The Hall Master didn’t even smack him when Ning-shijie insisted on sitting next to him and kept talking during the lecture. He merely tapped her desk and gave her a scolding look before returning to the lesson.
Luo Binghe didn’t hold it against Ning-shijie though, because she did try to help him get his hand placement better and he was able to follow along with the characters she was drawing when he fell behind the lecture. He felt like he had a long, long way to go before he was even close to the rest of the class, but the Hall Master glanced at his paper afterwards and only frowned a little before moving on.
He seemed to frown a little harder at some of the other papers too, so maybe Luo Binghe wasn’t completely hopeless.
Luo Binghe’s good fortune ended as class did. Ming Fan was waiting outside, clenching his jaw and glaring at the ground.
“Ming-shixiong!” Ning Yingying scolded. “Why didn’t you tell me Shizun had a twin? This Yingying had to find out all on her own!”
Ming Fan made a face. “It’s not proper to gossip about Shizun’s family relations.”
Ning-shijie didn’t seem to find that a fair enough response and crossed her arms, huffing.
Ming Fan grimaced, but focused on Luo Binghe. He held out a brand new cultivation manual and some robes like it pained him. “Here. Shen-shibo said you needed new ones—and come back to the dormitory. It doesn’t speak well to Qing Jing if you’re sleeping like a dog in a shed or on the floor somewhere.”
Luo Binghe blinked at him. He’d said similar before, but usually only when locking Luo Binghe in the woodshed at Shizun’s behest because someone was visiting that didn’t need to be burdened with looking at him.
“Stop making that face,” Ming Fan said, stuffily. “I’m your shixiong, aren’t I? So… so if anyone gives you trouble about it, you come to me. It’s my responsibility to make sure you aren’t a disgrace to the peak.”
He said the last part a little choked, like it was difficult to get out.
“Thank you… Shixiong,” Luo Binghe said, while Ning-shijie cheerfully praised Ming Fan for being kind.
Luo Binghe was perfectly clear on who was being kind as he looked down at the new cultivation manual and two pairs of robes in his hands.
He was still scared that he’d passed out in the woodshed again and this was a truly pleasant dream. If so, Luo Binghe would prefer never to wake up.
“Don’t you have guqin lessons, Xiao Shimei?” Ming Fan said flushed, while shaking off Ning Yingying who was still praising him.
Luo Binghe drew his manual and robes close to his chest and tried not to be surprised when Ning-shijie dragged him along for those lessons too and no one kicked him out either.
***
The next day on Qing Jing Peak was unlike Luo Binghe could have hoped. He had been shoved around a little when he went to the dormitory, but only as long as it took Ming Fan to return and start yelling down the bullies he used to rile up.
No one talked to him and everyone gave him dirty looks as Luo Binghe finally slept on the bed originally assigned to him. He’d only had a few nights when he first arrived to enjoy it. But everyone left him alone.
That morning Shen Yuan joined everyone for breakfast with kind and patient smiles for each disciple who tried to grasp his attention—even if he was a little bemused at Ning-shijie’s barrage of inappropriate questions about his and Shizun’s childhood.
Even with all that attention, Shen Yuan brightened and smiled special for Luo Binghe. He even made sure they made room so that Luo Binghe could sit right next to Shen-shibo as he ate his breakfast. He even tutted at the amount on his plate and took some off his own, insisting ‘Binghe was too skinny.’
Luo Binghe was on a cloud of happiness while Shen Yuan fielded requests from disciples for which classes he should take over and encouraged the same disciples to tell him which Hall Masters they disliked and why.
Luo Binghe had thought he was joking about his threat to pretend to be Shizun to fire them, but after the miracle of the last couple of days, he wasn’t so sure.
Shen Yuan stopped him after breakfast when most of the juniors were going to train their cultivation and sword stances. “Come with me,” he said, grinning at him to put him at ease.
Luo Binghe smiled back automatically and caught the way Shen Yuan’s eyes sparkled when he did so. It was almost like making Luo Binghe happy made him happy.
Luo Binghe definitely floated as he followed Shen Yuan through the training grounds, to a quiet area carved out into one of the thicker thatches of bamboo. It wasn’t an intentional area like the meditation pavilions, but it did seem as if someone had cleared it out for private practice.
Shen Yuan settled on ground, crossing his legs and gestured for Luo Binghe to join him. “So, Binghe has been on Qing Jing for two years now?”
Luo Binghe nodded, a fluttering feeling in his chest that wasn’t all nervousness. He’d stared at Shen Yuan’s face for most of the previous night, but it wasn’t the same as seeing the shape of it in the daylight. Only dappled shadows from the various bamboo marring the glow.
“I’m going to ask you some questions,” Shen Yuan said, “and I need you to answer honestly and not call yourself lowly or useless when you do. Got it?”
Luo Binghe nodded, a little less certain this time.
Shen Yuan sighed. “Right. So, Binghe can read?” Luo Binghe nodded. “Confidently enough to not need help with his new manual?”
Luo Binghe hesitated, initially tempted to lie and not seem quite so pathetic, but shook his head instead.
“That’s all right,” Shen Yuan said, patting Luo Binghe’s knee briefly. He seemed to always need to gently reassure with a kind touch. It was almost as if the heavens had poured him and Shizun out into one egg and they’d cracked apart, perfect opposites.
Shen-shibo asked Luo Binghe a series of questions about his knowledge on the four arts and Luo Binghe answered honestly, even if he felt sick with shame after. At one point he’d bowed his head and started mumbling apologies and Shen Yuan thwapped his forehead with a fan, not even hard enough to bruise.
“Enough of that. I’m assessing what we need to work on so I can help make Binghe’s new schedule if he wants to stay on Qing Jing,” Shen Yuan said. “I haven’t permanently picked which classes I’ll be taking over, so Binghe’ll have to wake up a little early and we can work on what he’s missed over the last two years.”
Luo Binghe really, really tried not to cry again, but it was hard when Shen Yuan’s reaction was to hug him again when he did so. He might have not fought the tears as hard once he was wrapped in comforting arms again. Whatever he could do to keep them there a little longer.
***
The next week was the best week Luo Binghe had lived since his mother passed. Shen Yuan was very funny in the mornings, yawning and a little out of sorts. He almost looked sloppy. It was so unlike Shen Qingqiu that Luo Binghe couldn't help be charmed. Shen Yuan woke up early for Luo Binghe when he clearly didn’t like to. All so they could catch Luo Binghe up to his peers.
Luo Binghe had worried it would be a failure and Shen Yuan would realize he was wasting his time, but for the first time since Luo Binghe had been on Qing Jing Peak, he felt like he had a teacher.
He couldn’t help but wish that Shen Yuan had been his Shizun instead of Shen Qingqiu. He acted so much more like one.
Shen Yuan was kind and patient. He was a little grumpy in the mornings, but it was only in a way that made his voice hoarse and his answers a little slower until he’d finished his tea. On the third day when Luo Binghe offered to make him breakfast (and then insisted) since Shen Yuan had his own kitchen, Shen Yuan’s bright happy reaction to Luo Binghe’s food made that fluttering inside him go crazy.
Luo Binghe was filled with butterflies. He had forgotten what it felt like to be happy.
Even his cultivation started to improve! Luo Binghe understood his new manual much better and Shen Yuan walked him through anything he might find confusing (and Luo Binghe maybe found some things confusing on purpose to have a little extra of Shen Yuan’s time explaining them).
By the end of the week, Luo Binghe had almost forgotten another Shizun existed. He hadn’t run into him and was surprised when he and Ning Yingying were listening to Shen Yuan’s story about his run-ins with Silver Tusk Elephant-Oxen and Club-Footed Giraffe Lemurs competing for territory, that Shen Qingqiu appeared.
“Shizun!” Ning-shijie said, cheerfully in greeting.
Shen Qingqiu managed the small smile he held in reserve for her and his eyes briefly glazed over Luo Binghe before settling on Shen Yuan. “Zhangmen-shixiong has invited himself over this afternoon.”
“Ugh,” Shen Yuan said. “Can I hide?”
“No,” Shen Qingqiu said, but his lips twitched like that was funny.
Shen Yuan sighed and then glanced at Luo Binghe and Ning Yingying. “Go run off and make sensible mischief since I know neither of you have classes.”
“Shen Yuan,” Shen Qingqiu said, annoyed, but not angry.
Shen Yuan ignored him and grinned at Ning Yingying and Luo Binghe conspiratorially before winking and breaking off to walk with Shen Qingqiu.
“You’re the one that wanted me around,” Shen Yuan said, as they disappeared from view.
Ning-shijie pouted as they left. “I forgot to ask Shen-shibo what they were like when they were our age.”
“He didn’t answer the last four times you asked,” Luo Binghe said, trying to gentle his tone at least. She was too used to getting her way to know better. Luo Binghe was getting a taste of what testing that was like and didn’t blame her for being shameless with it as much anymore.
“He might answer a fifth,” Ning-shijie said and then grinned at him. “Want to go try and hear what Zhangmen-shibo is going to talk to them about?”
“No,” Luo Binghe said. He was lying, but he was also not stupid enough enough to try and mess up how much better his life had gotten in only such a short amount of time.
“A-Luo!” Ning-shijie said in her best whining.
Luo Binghe gave in, only because his curiosity was outweighing his sense. He insisted on where they would hide at least so he’d have a quick exit to flee to if they were even close to getting caught. No one would be bothered if Ning Yingying were so blatantly spying, but Luo Binghe knew better than to get caught in a place where someone might even think he was being inappropriate.
***
They snuck around the pebbled trail that circled the back of the Bamboo House and found a red-faced Ming Fan already waiting at the side where they couldn’t easily be seen if anyone peeked out the window or approached from the front.
He opened his mouth like he was going to scold them and then shut it again. Ming Fan sighed and made room for them, clenching his jaw like it pained him to let them pull the same behavior he was doing.
Luo Binghe would’ve been more irritated about having to share space with him, if Ming Fan didn’t do as good a job at keeping Ning-shijie from whispering commentary over what they observed.
They were outside the steps to the back garden. Yue Qingyuan looked pinched in a way Luo Binghe had only seen at the end of his attempts to meet with Shizun, not the beginning of them.
Shen Qingqiu was fanning himself, appearing bored and Shen Yuan had his arms crossed over his chest, glaring.
“Xiao Shi, if you would consider…”
“Don’t call me that,” Shen Yuan snapped and Shen Qingqiu’s lips quirked up on one side, not quite concealed by the fan.
Yue Qingyuan inclined his head and glanced behind them towards the Bamboo House. “Could we not sit down to have this conversation with some tea? Perhaps catch-up?”
“No,” Shen Qingqiu said, flatly. “You said you had business, Zhangmen-shixiong. Get to it.”
“Xi—” Yue Qingyuan paused and cleared his throat. “Qingqiu-shidi, the…requests you’ve submitted over the last few days are not in your usual hand.”
“This master signed them, did he not?” Shen Qingqiu fanned himself slower.
“Did he?” Yue Qingyuan asked, glancing at Shen Yuan and then back at Shen Qingqiu again.
Shen Qingqiu briefly flicked his eyes towards Shen Yuan and frowned. “What did you do?”
“I told you exactly what I planned on doing, I don’t know why you’re surprised,” Shen Yuan said. He glared at Yue Qingyuan. “And I don’t know why you’re butting in now. You sure as hell didn't when you were letting him indulge in his worst instincts and take on disciples you know he shouldn’t have.”
Luo Binghe felt himself flinch and tried to ignore the piercing look Ming Fan shot him at that comment.
“The decisions made by the second ranked lord of this sect and the sect leader are not truly of Shen Yuan’s concern,” Yue Qingyuan said, stiffly.
Shen Qingqiu had stopped fanning himself, but had drawn his elegant silk fan to cover his expression. The tension in his body said enough as someone like Luo Binghe, who had desperately had to catch the subtle shifts for his own survival, noted.
“Please,” Shen Yuan scoffed, “you’re not going to do anything but bark at me, because Jiu-ge wants me here and you literally let him get away with murder. If the ‘relations’ you’re losing by cutting those incompetent assholes who never should’ve graduated to senior disciples let alone start teaching, then that’s really the diplomatic peak’s problem isn’t it? Qing Jing needs teachers who can help students improve, not make them worse.”
“And… Shen Yuan believes he can do that?” Yue Qingyuan asked, carefully.
The stiffening in both Shen Qingqiu and Shen Yuan’s postures had both Ming Fan and Luo Binghe backing up a step, even though they were far out of view. They both quickly tugged Ning-shijie away from the firestorm of anger that erupted as Luo Binghe’s survival instincts finally over-rode his curiosity.
***
Shen Yuan was a good teacher. He would’ve been a good (certainly a better) Shizun. Unfortunately, Luo Binghe had to share him more than he liked.
The mornings stayed the same, usually a routine of Luo Binghe already making breakfast and Shen Yuan insisting he didn’t need to and then eating the entire thing with pleased sounds and praises that meant Luo Binghe would never stop.
After a few months, Luo Binghe had made enough progress that Shen Yuan thought he didn’t need as much help. Any time Shen Yuan tried to even hint at their private morning sessions ending, Luo Binghe quickly changed the subject. Usually he distracted Shen Yuan by asking about one of his adventures, a specific beast he was curious about, or even once asking about his friendship with Mu-shishu. Luo Binghe hadn’t wanted to resort to crying, but once he had, Shen Yuan stopped bringing it up. He would only give a tired, fond smile when Luo Binghe was already in his kitchen making breakfast in the morning.
Shen Yuan took over several classes at first, probably too many, since they were suddenly without several Hall Masters. Eventually, he settled some advanced seniors into teaching the classes and mostly took charge of the junior classes for guqin (though he still helped Luo Binghe with the rest of the arts).
Luo Binghe noticed a few things during those classes. Shen Yuan never played the guqin himself—not truly that strange, as Shen Qingqiu would only ever perform for his advanced classes (or on occasion for Ning Yingying personally if she begged). Whenever Shen-shibo was requested to play, there was a strain on his usually easy smile and he politely declined, turning the attention back to whoever was asking.
The strangeness was that Shen Yuan did seem like he wanted to play for them. Luo Binghe caught Shen Yuan’s eyes more than once, staring with a strange yearning at the empty guqin placed near the front for that purpose.
It wasn’t until several weeks into classes that Shen Yuan came to help the tone-deaf disciple next to Luo Binghe (one of Ming Fan’s old friends that liked to kick Luo Binghe in the ribs when he was down) that Luo Binghe noticed. Shen Yuan reached over to correct the hand placement of the tone-deaf disciple and then his fingers stiffened like someone had jerked them painfully. It was very brief, but there was also a second where Shen Yuan’s body went taunt—like an aborted flinch.
As much as Luo Binghe would have treasured Shen Yuan’s fingers gently moving his own to the correct placement as often as possible, once he noticed that, Luo Binghe dedicated himself to not needing the correction.
Pleasing Shen Yuan with his progress was far better than sneaking a few stolen touches that might have been painful.
“Very well done, Binghe,” Shen Yuan said, smiling softly with his eyes and mouth in a way he only did in Luo Binghe’s direction.
“Thank you,” Shizun, Luo Binghe thought, but said, “Shen-shibo!”
“Keep this up and you’ll be moving to the advanced classes,” Shen Yuan said and then frowned after. He quickly moved on to something else, but it wasn’t hard to understand.
Shen Qingqiu taught the advanced classes.
Luo Binghe had no guilt when he stopped mentally referring to Shen Qingqiu as his shizun, because he never had the opportunity to say it out loud. The beatings had stopped as had all of Shen Qingqiu’s other attention. It was as if Luo Binghe weren't even there. Even during disciple assessments, Shen Qingqiu would purposefully skip over Luo Binghe as if he didn’t exist.
It was frustrating after years of struggling to meet his expectations, but Luo Binghe kept reminding himself that it was preferable. As long as he had Shen Yuan it didn’t matter.
And with each passing day, Luo Binghe wanted Shen Yuan more and more. He started testing the limits of how much Shen Yuan would let him draw his attention and now most days Luo Binghe was making Shen Yuan dinner as well as breakfast.
He helped Shen Yuan with the Hall Master paperwork, excusing it as his own handwriting practice (which it was) and also helping Shen Yuan with something he seemed to dislike.
Hall Masters didn’t have personal disciples, but Shen Yuan wasn’t exactly a Hall Master. He was more like a second Shizun. Luo Binghe had been deprived so long that all his greedy heart wanted now was one Shizun, this one. All to himself.
***
Luo Binghe made it only half a year, before he became desperate to be Shen Yuan’s disciple, rather than Shen Qingqiu’s nothing (a bitter upgrade from what he had been before).
The 12 Peaks Martial Competition was approaching and all the top seniors were running sword drills constantly so that Qing Jing Peak wouldn’t lose face. Shen Qingqiu even came to show off. Everyone was in awe of the Xiu Ya Sword and the effortless grace Shen Qingqiu used as he became one with it.
Everyone except Shen Yuan, who merely looked amused. Shen Qingqiu noticed and snapped at him to help with a demonstration.
Shen Yuan eased over, the differences between them when they stood together were so obvious that Luo Binghe felt silly for ever mixing them up. Even without the scar on Shen Yuan’s face, his skin was more slightly freckled and tan from not fearing the sun. He walked with purpose more often than silently, and the cut of his robes were befitting Qing Jing Peak, but more practical than the several layers of silk that Shen Qingqiu insisted on as Peak Lord.
Once they began to fight, it would have been impossible to confuse the two.
Shen Yuan didn’t help Luo Binghe with sword forms, insisting that there were better senior disciples to do so, and watching him move so jaggedly and quick, without the sweep and dance of Qing Jing flow—made Luo Binghe wonder if he even knew them.
He certainly didn’t seem to need them. The fight started clearly as a demonstration, with Shen Yuan giving Shen Qingqiu enough time to showcase each move for their captivated audience. Then Shen Qingqiu said or did something that Luo Binghe wished he’d been paying more attention to (but how could he when he was staring at Shen Yuan?) that seemed to change the intensity of their bout.
Two Shens of clear skill fighting each other in two different styles. It was more than a friendly spar and Shen Qingqiu’s ease and grace didn’t quite match up to the dirt kicked at him when Shen Yuan flipped backwards and sliced a loose ribbon on Shen Qingqiu’s outer robes.
Infuriated, the two of them fought harder, it was impossible to keep up with and impossible to keep an eye away from. Then something flickered on Shen Yuan’s face and he missed a step, allowing Shen Qingqiu to take advantage and call the match with a smug smirk on his face.
“That is why you must keep your attention on your opponent at all times,” Shen Qingqiu said to the disciples, his voice low, to hide he was almost out of breath.
Shen Yuan bowed politely and wandered off shortly after Shen Qingqiu started calling disciples to demonstrate moves for him.
Luo Binghe followed. It wasn’t likely Shen Qingqiu would call on him, or even if he would notice he’d gone.
Shen Yuan didn’t seem bothered by losing. He even snorted when he caught Luo Binghe trailing him and slowed to let him catch up. “You’re not learning anything following me like a duckling, Binghe.”
“This humble disciple disagrees, Shen-shibo,” Luo Binghe said. “This disciple learned much from that match, but wonders why Shen-shibo threw it at the end?”
Shen Yuan's eyebrows raised. “How is Binghe so sure this senior threw it?”
“Shen-shibo deliberately missed a step in his movement—his eyes flickered in that direction first,” Luo Binghe said, delighted at the expression he caused.
Shen Yuan looked like he was trying very hard to look scolding, but his lips kept turning up. “Brat,” he said, finally, then tweaked Luo Binghe’s nose. “Well, then why does Binghe think I threw it?”
Luo Binghe thought about that for a moment. “To… make She—Shizun feel better?”
Shen Yuan had caught Luo Binghe’s accidental slip and raised an eyebrow. He stalled their walking and faced Luo Binghe directly and a little more seriously. “Your shizun is the Peak Lord. He’s a master of Qing Jing, including their sword forms. Your shibo winning in a single fight that might have gone either way would only undermine the importance of learning them.”
“Why can’t you be my shizun?” Luo Binghe said, unable to help himself.
“Binghe!” Shen Yuan said, scandalized. “I’m not the Peak Lord.”
You should be. Luo Binghe managed to at least not say. “Peak Lord Shen doesn't want to be my shizun. He never wanted me as a student.” Luo Binghe still couldn’t understand why or why he’d chosen Luo Binghe if that was the case—part of him still felt like there was some misstep and mistake he’d made that could have been corrected. The other part of him no longer cared.
Luo Binghe cupped his hands and bowed. “This disciple has learned more from Shen Yuan in less than a year than he has learned his entire time on Qing Jing Peak. Please consider being my shizun.”
“I can’t teach you Qing Jing sword forms,” Shen Yuan said after an excruciating pause.
Luo Binghe looked up at him, hopefully. “This disciple would be pleased to learn how to fight like Shizun.”
“I didn’t say yes yet!” Shen Yuan objected and then groaned when Luo Binghe beamed at him. “I—Binghe, let me at least check to see if that’s a thing I’m even allowed to do first.”
Luo Binghe nodded, eagerly. His heart pounding in chest. “This disciple is certain that Shizun will be able to find the right ‘loophole’ as he likes to put it to make it so.”
Shen Yuan scoffed and pulled his fan off his hip to smack Luo Binghe on the head with it. It was so light and non-threatening even when it landed harder than normal. “Absolutely shameless. You’re going to be disappointed.”
“This disciple doubts that,” Luo Binghe said.
Shen Yuan—Shizun rolled his eyes and sighed in defeat.
Luo Binghe skipped along side him the rest of the day until he got whacked a few more times with the fan. Then he walked only with a slight bounce.
***
“Plant your foot, Binghe,” Shizun said, showing him a variation on a Qing Jing sword form.
He’d insisted that Luo Binghe learn each of them perfectly from one of the seniors before he’d show him anything else. It had taken weeks to feel certain of it. The last demonstration, Shizun had been pleased with him and Shen Qingqiu had given him the first attention in almost a year—disgust.
“Like this?” Luo Binghe asked, tripping at the end (almost not entirely intentionally) so that Shizun had to catch him, letting out a fond but frustrated sigh.
“Silly boy,” Shizun scolded with no heat and no ice. “Let me show you,” he took a step forward and held his own sword up (a much less striking blade than Xiu Ya, but Luo Binghe thought much more beautiful) and then accomplished the move perfectly until the end—where Luo Binghe had tripped, Shizun’s hand spasmed and he stumbled to the ground.
“Fuck,” Shizun muttered. “I didn’t say that, ignore it,” he added as Luo Binghe came to help him to his feet.
“Shizun… are… is this like the guqin?” Luo Binghe asked, softly.
Shizun eyed him sideways and sighed. “Of course Binghe noticed.” He shook his head and stretched his hand out, using the other to put his sword away. “It’s… related.”
“This foolish disciple apologizes for causing Shizun pain,” Luo Binghe said, very quickly.
Shizun scoffed and probably would have flicked his forehead if his hand was capable of it, given the way he twitched. “The pain was going to happen either way.”
“Can…. this disciple ask if there’s anything he can do to help?” Luo Binghe asked. As much as he wanted to know why, he wanted Shizun not to be in pain more. The moment Shen Yuan came into Luo Binghe’s life, his own pain stopped—why shouldn’t he yearn for the same?
Shizun’s smile was soft. He shook his head, while he used one hand to massage the other. “Binghe can accompany me to Qian Cao and hopefully deter his Mu-shishu from lecturing too hard if he’d like.”
Luo Binghe nodded furiously, earning another amused scoff from his dear Shizun.
They made their way to Qian Cao. The weather was lovely and people smiled as they passed, happy to see Shen Yuan and his shadow (as Luo Binghe had overheard himself called more than once). It was a beautiful day, up until they approached the infirmary.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Shizun muttered, forgetting to even pretend to censure himself around Luo Binghe as he often tried (and delightfully usually failed).
“Perhaps when I gift the universe with your death and grind your bones to be used as fertilizer on Zui Xian Peak you’ll finally have some use,” Shen Qingqiu yelled directly in to the face of a blustering angry Bai Zhan Peak Lord.
Shizun rubbed his temple and then cleared his throat loudly. Both of them snapped their head towards him. “People are healing here, you know.”
Liu Qingge immediately fixed his posture firmly into place and bowed politely. “Shen Yuan. I didn’t know you were back.”
“Liu-shidi,” Shizun said, dryly and slightly amused. “Did you come to the infirmary specifically to set off my brother or attend to the bleeding on your arm?”
Liu Qingge glanced down at the laceration that had cut straight through his robes, like he’d only now noticed it. He opened his mouth and then shot Shen Qingqiu a glare before turning shortly and stomping into the building, kicking the door open more than anything else.
Shizun sighed and made his way forward where Shen Qingqiu was still fuming.
Luo Binghe kept a step back, though he was torn between his natural instinct to avoid Shen Qingqiu like that and his newer urge to put himself between him and Shen Yuan for Shizun’s sake.
“What are you doing here?” Shen Qingqiu snapped, his gaze immediately going to Shizun’s hands which were now folded in his sleeves. “Did you have a relapse?”
“A mild one,” Shizun said.
“I told you taking on a personal disciple was too much,” Shen Qingqiu snarled. “Especially one who—”
“What are you here for, Jiu-ge?” Shizun said, forcefully interrupting Shen Qingqiu.
Shen Qingqiu glared at him and then briefly looked at Luo Binghe like the dirt beneath his boot. “The Bai Zhan brutes jumped several of our disciples.”
“They’re still doing that?” Shizun sounded annoyed. He shook his head. “Why don’t you let me talk t—”
“No,” Shen Qingqiu said, “you have enough mess on your plate without adding Liu Qingge to it.”
Shizun rolled his eyes and stepped in a way that made it possible for Luo Binghe walk behind him and through the infirmary door without having to get too close to a still tense and angry Shen Qingqiu. The hatred and anger was directed at Luo Binghe, but he didn’t like that Shizun got in the middle of it. He never wanted to be the reason Shizun got hurt.
***
There were not enough horses for the mission. Luo Binghe wasn’t surprised. He was more surprised he’d been allowed to go in the first place.
Luo Binghe mentally prepared himself for sore feet. The walk to Shang Hu City did not seem to be short. All the horses were claimed and several of the disciples shot him smug looks since Luo Binghe was clearly the one without. Ming Fan was glaring and muttering to himself and Luo Binge grimaced as the curtain to the carriage slid open enough to see Shen Qingqiu’s judgmental eyes on the scene.
“What is the hold up?”
“There aren’t enough horses, Shizun. This disciple apologizes,” Ming Fan said miserably.
“Really?”
“I—this disciple definitely secured enough for the trip, Shizun!” Ming Fan pleaded, almost desperately.
Ning Yingying looked them over and then waved at him. “A-Luo, not enough horses? Come ride with me!”
Luo Binghe sank into his shoulders a bit, nervously as several disciples and Ming Fan’s attention came on them. “That—that’s all right, Ning-shijie,” Luo Binghe said. “This one can walk.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Ning Yingying said, and then called for assistance, “Shizun!”
“What is it now?” Shen Qingqiu asked, straining his head to see out the window with an angry scowl on his face.
Luo Binghe was too used to the secure and forceful footsteps of his shizun that he startled slightly when a hand gently rested on his shoulder briefly as Shen Yuan silently passed him. “Yingying, don’t make a fuss. It’s not appropriate for you to ride a horse together. The quartermasters probably got confused with two Shens on the list.” Luo Binghe burned with jealously as Shizun patted Ming Fan on the head. “There are enough horses if I ride in the carriage, don’t be so hard on yourself.”
“It wasn’t intentional, Shen-shibo,” Ming Fan said, looking aggrieved.
Shizun smiled at him softly and patted his shoulder. “I know.” He glanced behind him. “Binghe, you can ride mine. I’ll ride in the carriage.”
“As you should have in the first place,” Shen Qingqiu said, low enough he probably thought only his twin could hear him.
Luo Binghe tried not to imagine sharing a horse with Shizun as he climbed on—instead focusing his hearing to catch what Shizun and Shen Qingqiu were saying as they made themselves comfortable.
“You could’ve just said you wanted me to ride in the carriage with you like a normal person instead of playing psychological warfare with the disciples,” Shizun scolded.
“Where’s the fun in that?” Shen Qingqiu replied.
***
Luo Binghe was having a crisis beyond being tied to a post with Ning-shijie and having a threatening demon taunt them with the idea of wearing their skin.
No, his crisis was the shameful, awful feeling deep set in what he knew was his lower dantian that had nothing to do with cultivation. He was still grappling with that feeling when Shizun, half naked and tied in beautiful dangerous red ropes, splayed out like a banquet, was waking up.
Luo Binghe was a beast.
Between the blood flow leaving his brain and Ning-shijie’s terrified sobbing, it was hard for him to truly pay attention to the exact words the demon wearing the Chen concubine’s skin was saying.
Then the demon was touching Shizun and Luo Binghe felt anger—he’d felt frustrated and afraid, but the anger was so jarring compared to his normal feelings. His fists gripped so hard that his fingernails tore through the palms of his hands.
“Tch, what a pity, this skin isn’t that useful after all. Damaged,” the demon said, stroking a long fingernail down the long scar on Shizun’s face. The smile that spread on the borrowed skin was macabre and terrifying. It stepped back and turned that smile towards Luo Binghe’s direction. “Good thing I have two young and fresh options for me.”
“Terrible idea,” Shizun said, not sounding worried in the slightest.
The demon was too intrigued by the lack of fear to ignore the clear provocation. Luo Binghe wished he could take advantage of this rather than continue to fumble uselessly with his bindings. “Oh? Does the lesser Master Shen have an opinion?”
“You want to escape a bunch of cultivators by passing off as a dear disciple on their first mission?” Shizun scoffed at the demon. “Someone is going to notice one of their children is missing.”
The demon cocked its head strangely and moved closer to Shizun and farther from the leering at Ning-shijie and Luo Binghe it had been doing. “Lesser Master Shen must think I am stupid,” the demon said, stupidly taking Shizun’s bait. “This Die-er was one of many concubines and not looked at too closely. I am an excellent actor—” The demon scowled at Shizun’s dismissive scoff. “Even the Xiu Ya sword might be temporarily fooled, but he’ll know his twin.”
“I’ve been known to run off,” Shizun said with a shrug, shifting his position slightly, but not seeming to manage to do much more than strain the ropes against his pristine skin. “He wouldn’t care.”
“Familial attachments are intense,” the demon countered.
“Not ours,” Shizun said with a humorless smile. “He’ll notice and care if his favorite disciples leave. He won’t if I do. Who do you think gave me this scar?”
Shizun kept her attention long enough that he was able to get one of his hands free—it looked like by dislocating his thumb. It was enough to punch the demon back and hold it off long enough that the doors blasted off the hinges and Shen Qingqiu arrived to finish taking it down.
Luo Binghe was still tied up while Shen Qingqiu attended to his brother and barked at Ming Fan to untie Ning-shijie. He was surprised when Ming Fan also untied him without prompting, but his shixiong scowled when Luo Binghe thanked him and stomped off.
They stayed in guest chambers in the Chen Manor that night, Shen Qingqiu demanded it, with no real sympathy for the Old Master Chen’s apparent grieving. Luo Binghe didn’t disagree with him for once. Shizun had dislocated his thumbs and Luo Binghe was very careful and delicate when he finally had a chance to do some of the acupressure massage techniques that Mu-shishu had taught him for Shizun’s condition.
“Binghe really shouldn’t fuss,” Shizun said. “You had an exciting first mission, shouldn’t you be resting or staying up too late with your friends?”
“Shizun shouldn’t have to injure himself to protect this useless disciple,” Luo Binghe said, mumbling half the words.
“That is a shizun’s job,” Shizun said, shortly. His eyes were still kind when Luo Binghe lifted his head to look up at him. “I was only glad I didn’t have to bite her. A human jaw has a significant amount of pressure if you ever get into a situation without your cultivation and no way to use your hands,” he said.
Luo Binghe nodded, taking note of that. He’d paused his massage and was now only holding Shizun’s hand in his own. “Shizun…”
“Mm?”
“Did you… what you said to the demon about your scar?”
Shizun drew his hand back and straightened up. “Binghe doesn’t need to worry about that. I would’ve said whatever necessary to keep her attention off you and Yingying. Why don’t you get some sleep, eh? I don't have a long ride on horseback tomorrow.”
Luo Binghe nodded and didn’t push, but he knew that was an answer as much as it was an evasion of one.
***
Qing Jing Peak was level with the heavens when Shen Qingqiu went into seclusion for months. Shizun took control of the peak and everyone thrived, smiling more and getting ‘laps’ and soft scolding as punishment at most. The classes felt achievable and Luo Binghe even excelled in them, gaining praises from (most importantly) Shizun and even most of the Hall Masters. Luo Binghe felt like a flower set beneath his Shizun’s sun, finally starting to bloom.
Luo Binghe had grown too complacent in the last two years. He forgot that nothing this good for him ever lasted that long.
Shizun had gone into the Ling Xi caves a few weeks before Shen Qingqiu was set to come out. He said to attempt his own mini-seclusion, but Luo Binghe knew from Shizun’s evening frets that he suspected Shen Qingqiu might be in danger this long alone.
Luo Binghe adored his Shizun’s gentle heart, but hated how indiscriminate it was.
He hated more that when they were both set to come out of the caves and the demons swarmed Qiong Ding Peak—only Shen Qingqiu arrived. The other disciples were relieved, but Luo Binghe knew better. Knowing Shen Yuan for as many years as Shen Qingqiu now and he knew they could not be more different.
Shen Qingqiu stalled the majority of the fighting and got the demoness to agree to three matches. Choosing the best warriors to save face would’ve ended the bloodshed. Shen Qingqiu did not miss an opportunity for bloodshed as long as he could choose who shed it.
When the third match arrived and a demon at least three times the size of Luo Binghe was set to fight, he was the only one not surprised when Shen Qingqiu offered him up. The yearning gleam of want in Shen Qingqiu’s eyes was clear. He’d rather lose face for the sect and lose the nuisance of Luo Binghe’s existence than believe Luo Binghe could win.
Luo Binghe was glad of his Shizun’s teachings more than ever. His teacher had taught him how to fight to survive—how to expect things to go wrong. Fighting against such a massive demon, what else was supposed to happen?
Then Luo Binghe saw Shizun, arriving with a harried Liu Qingge, eyes widening at Luo Binghe’s fight—the moment of distraction almost took Luo Binghe’s head off with it.
He could not lose in front of Shizun. He had to win for Shizun and show how much better he was than his twin. Luo Binghe found a better cause than survival to fight for and somehow defeated the demon.
Ah, but… ending there would’ve been too good for Luo Binghe’s life. He could not have sweetness if it didn’t turn sour. So the universe took from him again.
The demons were conspiring and cruel and when a dangerous deadly poison came for Luo Binghe, Shizun shifted so that he took the blow instead.
***
Luo Binghe didn’t even pretend to fight Shen Qingqiu as he spent the next few days remembering what it felt like to be whipped to unconsciousness and strung up so he couldn’t heal properly.
His relief was brief and stunted as always. Luo Binghe was asleep when he saw Shizun, bright and alive and happy like he hadn’t been when he’d taken the poison. Then Shizun had again put himself in front of Luo Binghe’s pain. He’d taken a hit meant for Luo Binghe’s own mind. He’d taken a hit from Luo Binghe which was worse than taking one for him. Luo Binghe never wanted to be the cause of Shizun’s pain.
So he made the deal with the demon, unsure if he’d wake up to it being true.
He wasn’t even sure when exactly the door opened to the woodshed, the light blearing in a mocking halo around Shen Qingqiu’s unmarred face. “Cut it down,” he said, darkly, to someone.
Luo Binghe landed on the floor, breathing hard and feeling uninspired to stand.
Then Shen Qingqiu threw a bottle of medicine at him. “Clean up. My brother’s asking for you.”
Luo Binghe’s head snapped up. “Shizun’s all right?”
“No,” Shen Qingqiu snarled. “He’s permanently damaged because of the refuse I didn’t dispose of soon enough. Mark your days, beast.”
The door slammed shut behind him as Shen Qingqiu swept outside.
Luo Binghe’s hands shook on the bottle of medicine and he wept in relief at the fact that he hadn’t lost everything. He determined then and there that he would do anything he had to, so that he could become strong enough to prevent Shizun from ever getting hurt again.
It didn’t solve the problem that Shizun was hurt, however. The poison from the demon’s armor had no cure, but Mu-shishu was able to stall its worst effects. Still, there were long days now where Shen Yuan’s previous conditions acted up more than normal and he had to have someone else step in for his classes.
Mostly Luo Binghe tried to tend to him, even when Shizun scolded him for not going off to class and taking care of himself.
Luo Binghe would’ve wanted to stay with Shizun either way. The dam holding back Shen Qingqiu’s attention had broken when his twin was hurt and Luo Binghe always did something to set him off when Shizun was having a bad spell.
“You feeling all right, Binghe?” Shizun asked him, on a particularly painful day of punishment that almost made Luo Binghe miss being able to cook Shizun dinner.
Shen Qingqiu was… less subtle than he had been when Luo Binghe had been younger. Some of the injuries were visible. It was almost like he wanted Shizun to notice.
Luo Binghe quickly realized that if Shizun noticed he might feel compelled to send Luo Binghe away. Shen Qingqiu was the Peak Lord of strategy, but Luo Binghe would flay the skin from his own bones before he’d allow him to win this game.
“This Binghe will feel much better when Shizun does,” Luo Binghe said.
Shizun sighed, muttering something about shamelessness and leaned back to rest in bed. He ate his dinner happily and Luo Binghe ignored the pains as he sat near him. They didn’t matter when weighed against every bite Shizun took.
A gentle hand landed on Luo Binghe’s head and ruffled his hair. “Eat yourself, Binghe. You’re a growing boy,” Shizun scolded.
“Yes, Shizun,” Luo Binghe said and carefully made himself a plate, watching as Shizun watched him. Shen Qingqiu could not think of a punishment in existence that would deter Luo Binghe from soaking up his Shizun’s sun.
***
“Liu-shishu,” Shizun scolded, once Liu Qingge had left from clearing his meridians. “Don’t be disrespectful, Binghe.”
“Apologies, Shizun,” Luo Binghe said, without a promise to correct his behavior. It was petty, but he savored every second he had with his Shizun. Even if it hadn’t now become an oasis from his returning torment around the peak.
Liu Qingge was here too much. Luo Binghe could’ve learned to clear Shizun’s meridians. His cultivation (both) was growing at an amazing speed. He could heal up the licks and bruises Shen Qingqiu gave him enough to hide them when he saw Shizun. One day he’d be able to protect Shizun from anything like this happening ever again.
“Let me hear where you’re at in your guqin,” Shizun said, rather than argue.
Luo Binghe beamed at him and went to settle at the one Shizun kept in his quarters. He’d only heard once before he entered for the evening, the soft and gentle melody that Shizun attempted before his fingers must’ve slipped and spasmed. It was far more lovely than anything Luo Binghe could play, but he tried anyway.
Shizun always seemed to like hearing him play after all. He wasn’t always well enough to ask for it. Luo Binghe didn’t care how much his life had returned to the time before. The times when Shizun wasn't able to fight off the pain the poison (the one he’d taken for stupid useless Binghe) or his old aches and sores.
Luo Binghe didn’t care if the entire peak hated him, thought him stupid, if Shen Qingqiu enjoyed beating him. He didn’t care. Because he still had Shizun. He still had the good days, where the poison wasn’t too bad and Shizun could teach him things and smile and tell Luo Binghe he wasn’t worthless.
Sometimes Luo Binghe almost believed him.
“Did Shizun want his disciple to sign up for the Immortal Alliance Conference?” Luo Binghe asked, sometime later when he was setting down dinner.
“Does Shizun want to show off his disciple?” Shizun asked, in a mocking tone. He rolled his eyes, but even his false sourness couldn’t last long when he smelled the steam coming off the dumpling in front of him. “You’re spoiling me again.”
“This disciple has no idea what Shizun means,” Luo Binghe said smiling as Shizun glared at him and took a bite, smile breaking past his pretend displeasure.
“It’s Binghe’s decision,” Shizun said, “but he’s old enough now that he could really make a name for himself in the cultivation world with a good showing at the conference.”
What did Luo Binghe need with the cultivation world when his world was right here? Luo Binghe shrugged. “If Shizun wishes this one to enter, then this disciple will submit his name.”
“Does Binghe want to enter?” Shizun asked, flicking Luo Binghe’s ear. “Shizun, this and Shizun that. You’re seventeen for crying out loud. Don’t you have better things to do than focus on feeding this old man?”
“No,” Luo Binghe said, honestly. It seemed to startle Shizun into shocked silence, so Luo Binghe placed another dumpling on his plate and finished setting the table to eat.
“You should,” Shizun said, softly, partway through dinner. “Binghe can do a lot of things, if he starts taking steps outside the walls of this mountain.”
“This—I’ll think about it,” Luo Binghe lied. It was a small thing, but the pleased (and somewhat relieved) smile on Shizun’s face made the small falsehood worth it.
***
Luo Binghe couldn’t die.
He tried.
To be completely accurate, Shen Qingqiu tried first.
The fall into the Endless Abyss should’ve killed Luo Binghe, but whatever the ice demon had done to the seal on his blood had made Luo Binghe impossible to kill.
His bones still broke. His limbs still tore through. His sinew and muscle still lacerated. The pain was still fresh, new, and brilliantly blinding each time.
Death however… that was the one thing Luo Binghe could never seem to earn. The only kindness left that the universe could grant him after seeing Shizun’s lifeless form crumple to the ground.
You don’t know he’s dead, kid. Meng Mo said. He’d been trying to make this pathetic attempt for months (or what Luo Binghe thought was was months, maybe it was years at this point). It was a selfish move, of course. If Luo Binghe died, so did Meng Mo. Luo Binghe knew there were no more selfless people left in the world anymore.
Use your memories. See it. I know you don’t believe me, but maybe you’ll believe your own eyes.
Luo Binghe didn’t deserve to see Shizun. He couldn’t call his gentle smile into a dreamscape—maybe he could punish himself by witnessing his failure again.
Sure, whatever works.
The memory was clouded in too much pain and the unbearable shift of Luo Binghe’s freed demonic energy trying to fight for dominance with his spiritual veins. But…
There wasn’t a large chance. Only a sliver. Shizun’s body had crumpled to the ground, but it hadn’t bent in a way that was not survivable. And hadn’t Shen Yuan survived more?
Even without that sliver of hope in front of him, Luo Binghe watched the memory and gained something better than false hope for motivation.
Revenge.
He’d tear the entrails out of that demon and feed them to him. And he’d tear down every wall that Shen Qingqiu had surrounded himself with, up from the foundation. He’d show how much less Shen Qingqiu was than the one who should have been there.
Luo Binghe couldn’t die.
So Luo Binghe survived.
***
The hope had been too fleeting and small for Luo Binghe to be surprised once he escaped the Endless Abyss and found that Shizun was gone. The new voice whispering in his ear had warned him before he’d confirmed. Xin Mo had been his faithful friend. His only escape.
So Luo Binghe fed his friend as much as possible and ran rivers of blood through the demon realm.
He didn't spare Mobei-jun in the end, but he didn’t kill him either. The demon should be grateful that his Shizun taught Luo Binghe how to survive and use every tool in his arsenal.
Luo Binghe’s arsenal continued to expand.
***
Luo Binghe couldn’t merely kill Shen Qingqiu. It wouldn’t be fair to Shizun’s memory for such an ignominious death for his broken mirror. It would also be stupid and Luo Binghe would not live up to a word Shen Qingqiu had called him—he would not be a beast, a wretch, a useless piece of trash—he would be clever.
And Luo Binghe was.
It wasn’t even a spiderweb trap that Luo Binghe set into action, because Shen Qingqiu had drawn all the lines of his own prison array with his own actions. There were disciples before Luo Binghe and disciples after that had somehow earned his extra special mistreatment—some of them were even still alive, though their cultivation was broken and their spirits not much better.
Ning-shijie had grown uncomfortable with the private concerts she received, especially with Shen Qingqiu’s reputation. She confessed to Luo Binghe that Shen Qingqiu had confided in her, either drunk or in the fallout of a minor qi deviation, but irrational and grieved—he’d told her too many intimate things that a child raised shouldn’t have to know. She didn’t like being alone with him after that.
The Qiu Jianluo seed had been planted years ago. The trail was easy enough to find with that name. Luo Binghe discovered the origins of Shen Qingqiu (and Shizun, poor Shizun) and the hypocrisy almost made Luo Binghe laugh. He didn’t care if Shizun had been a slave—but Shen Qingqiu would lose all face if that were to be made known. Especially his running out on his word and murdering an entire estate.
Luo Binghe had worked hard on gathering evidence and completing the trap.
So he was furious when he returned to Huan Hua Palace to find the Old Palace Master had already acted on his behalf. Luo Binghe was tracking down the exact names and details of the disciples murdered by Shen Jiu and Wu Yanzi during (ironically) an Immortal Alliance Conference—but that information was useless now.
They were a week from trial. Luo Binghe wanted to tear the Old Palace Master’s head off. The only thing stopping him was…
“What name did you say?”
“Shen Yuan,” the clerk told Luo Binghe nervously. “The Old Palace Master found him on the outskirts of a small border town and he confessed to the crimes brought against the Shens.”
“Where?” was all Luo Binghe was able to say before he was making his way down the steps to the Water Prison’s maze array and straight to the cell that supposedly held that last sliver of hope he’d thought disappeared the moment he stepped out of the Endless Abyss.
“Be reasonable,” a voice that was not Shizun said and the heartache had to fight the rage doing battle in Luo Binghe’s chest, until he heard Shizun’s response.
“I am being reasonable. I did do it, so why the fuck would I let you take the blame?” A painfully familiar scoff. “I told you we shouldn’t have spared Qiu Haitang.”
“Don’t joke,” Shen Qingqiu snapped.
Luo Binghe couldn’t breathe. He stepped only close enough to see around the edge of the cell—there was a guard further back, boredly watching his own fingernails while Shen Qingqiu spoke between the bars to—ShizunShizunShizun.
“I’m allowed to do whatever I want, I’m the one locked up.”
“They were after me, you bleeding heart imbecile,” Shen Qingqiu snarled.
“Too bad you didn’t do it,” Shizun said, the shrug in his voice and probably his shoulders, but Luo Binghe couldn’t see from here. He was stuck in place, frozen, and still wanted to vault past and throw Shen Qingqiu into the acid waters, tear the door from its hinges and wrap Shizun in his arms.
“You didn’t—you wouldn’t have needed to do it if it weren’t for me,” Shen Qingqiu said, a rare strain in his voice that reminded Luo Binghe of those incoherent noises he’d heard years ago after he’d lashed out at his twin.
Shizun sighed, deeply. “You don’t owe me anything.”
“Yuan-er!” Shen Qingqiu’s voice ripped out of him. “You cannot be serious! Of course I do. You—”
“I didn’t kill him for you!” Shizun snapped, shutting him up. “I could have! I should have after—after what he did, but I didn’t. I killed him because I was tired of having my fucking fingers broken as a punishment for you every time you managed to mess up a chord. I killed him because I was tired of the way you scarring my face didn’t do anything to discourage him on the nights you were hiding with Qiu Haitang. I killed him because I wanted to! And I don’t fucking regret it—and—and I don’t regret the deaths in the house and the people who watched and helped and I—you—I failed you. I let you spiral and become him instead of protecting you from that.”
“You…” Shen Qingqiu trailed off in the silence and then snarled. “You don’t need to protect me. I’m older.”
“Oh fuck you, neither of us actually know if that’s true,” Shizun’s aching pain shifted to a dry humor. “Our names were purchase order, not birth.”
“I’ll tell them I did it,” Shen Qingqiu said.
“They won’t believe you, since you didn’t. Also that guard is totally listening, we’re not quiet,” Shizun said, snorting. “Besides, I’m not doing this to protect you either—I…I didn’t protect who I was supposed to protect. I didn’t pay enough attention. I let you hurt him… them. I don’t want you to help me,” Shizun said. The shuddering breath he let out was loud in the silence. “It’s my fault you’re like this, but… you are still like this and I don’t want anything to do with someone like him.”
There was a loud noise as Shen Qingqiu slammed his hand against the cell door. The guard finally got to his feet and announced that Peak Lord Shen’s visit was through. Luo Binghe waited them out, breathing slow and cautious, trying to bring equilibrium back so he could move forward.
Shizun was alive.
If he had Shizun, nothing else mattered. What was the point of any of the power he’d obtained if he couldn’t protect that?
The waterfall of acid was flowing again by the time Shen Qingqiu had long since left and Luo Binghe finally made his way down. He easily dismissed the guard and stopped the flow of it.
Luo Binghe wrenched the cell door open. Settled on the floor of the cell, with his hands bound was Shizun. Really truly Shizun.
Shizun’s eyes were closed and his mouth pursed with annoyance.
“I swear if this is Qi-ge, I’m going to throw myself into the—”
“Shizun?” Luo Binghe’s voice cracked.
Shen Yuan—Shizun’s head snapped up and his eyes flew open. “Binghe?” He tried to get to his feet, stumbling with his binding.
Luo Binghe immediately stepped towards him, helping him stand. He looked down for once at his Shizun. “Shizun,” Luo Binghe sobbed. “This—this useless disciple—”
“Oh shut up,” Shizun said, and brought his bound hands up to try and cup Luo Binghe’s cheeks. “My disciple’s not useless. Why would I train a useless disciple? You’re insulting me when you say such silly things—you’re—alive?”
Luo Binghe was glad of his strength so he didn’t have to focus as he ripped the binding cables free from Shizun’s hands. They came up now to cradle his face as Shizun stared at him with the same desperate hope that this was really happening which was tearing at Luo Binghe’s insides.
He dropped to his feet and kowtowed, sobbing miserably. “Shizun, I didn’t—I didn't know they would. I’m so sorry. This useless—this disciple is unworthy of you and should have looked harder. Should never have believed that you—”
Shizun sighed and Luo Binghe felt gentle familiar hands running through his hair. “Binghe. You don’t have to be the boy in the woodshed forever. It’s why I let you out in the first place. Stop apologizing and let me look at you properly.”
Luo Binghe didn’t want to—he’d lost all control of his emotions and knew his demonic features were on full display, but he couldn’t ignore a request from Shizun.
He slowly got to his knees, matching where Shizun had also knelt on the cold stone floor. Meeting Luo Binghe in his filth.
Luo Binghe wanted to flinch away as Shizun stroked his face and carefully examined his forehead, then felt his finger touch the tips of his ear. “Hmm,” Shizun hummed, smiling faintly.
“Shizun?” Luo Binghe said, his hands hovering over Shizun’s waist, desperate to cling to him and too afraid to. “You—you shouldn’t be here. Let this disciple take you… anywhere you want to go.”
“I’ve been arrested for murder,” Shizun said, cocking an eyebrow. “Murders, technically,” he added with a sigh.
“I know… I… this disciple thought Shen Qingqiu had done that,” he hung his head, closing his eyes. “It’s unforgivable, but—I never thought you’d—I didn’t—”
“Shh, I understand, it’s okay,” Shizun said, pulling him into his arms like he had done when they first met and Luo Binghe had no safe place in the world left. He sobbed into Shizun’s shoulder, feeling the comfort of his fingers stroking up and down his back. Shizun murmured words of encouragement, soothed him, and tried to lure him out of that woodshed again.
***
Luo Binghe took Shizun to the Demon Realm almost immediately after he was able to pull himself together.
“This—we’ll make it better, if Shizun wants to stay here,” Luo Binghe said, shuffling on his feet and watching as Shizun glanced around the walls of the Underground Palace rooms he’d made his own. “There are other rooms too, or this Binghe can… this Binghe will take Shizun wherever he wants to go when we clear up the… confusion.”
Shizun laughed, but not unkindly. “I think fleeing to the Demon Realm kinda solidifies my guilt, Binghe.” He strode back towards Luo Binghe and patted his cheek gently. “Here is fine. I want to see what my Binghe has been up to.”
“It’s not…all things Shizun would approve of,” Luo Binghe warned him.
Shizun rolled his eyes and the next pat of Luo Binghe’s cheek felt more like a mild slap. “Show me. Honestly. I don't want Binghe hiding things from me anymore.”
He said the last part pointedly. They’d only talked a little so far and Luo Binghe didn’t know how he knew, but he knew Shizun meant hiding the way Shen Qingqiu was still abusing him and not hiding his demonic heritage. Shizun didn’t seem to care about the fact that Luo Binghe was a demon. He didn’t seem to care about anything except something that might hurt Luo Binghe that he could prevent.
For not the first time, Luo Binghe felt like he was dreaming and he did not want to wake up.
Now he could tell if something was a dreamscape, however, and it only made Shizun being in front of him asking for a tour of his palace more unbelievable.
Luo Binghe found the best places he could that might interest Shizun, starting with the library (though to his embarrassment he hadn’t yet replaced the absolute avalanche of yellow books that came with it yet). They walked through the gardens that Luo Binghe was already mentally making plans to turn into something more worthy of Shizun—though Shizun was delighted even seeing a small demonic bug burrowed into one of the trees.
Luo Binghe felt like he was heavy and floating at the same time. He felt like he would dig into this and never ever let it go.
Light filtered in differently in the gardens compared to the other rooms of the palace. Instead of night pearls, there were small windows carved into the ceiling that let hints of demonic sun or moonlight through, scoring through the gardens and creating a beam of light that made Shizun’s figure glow almost faintly red. His smile pulled back and there were years of exhaustion and illness that had taken the health from Shizun’s cheeks, but when he glanced over at Binghe from examining the demonic bug chewing through a tough piece of blood-bark, his eyes sparkled all the same.
Luo Binghe wasn’t quite sure what he ended up saying to confess in the end, merely that he had been overwhelmed with how beautiful and alive Shizun was in front of him and had done so.
He only registered it when Shizun’s eyes widened and he almost fell backwards in his shock.
“Binghe! I’m—way too old for you! You’re the demonic heir apparent to the entire empire!”
Luo Binghe laughed, in relief and disbelief. “Shizun is not too old and there is no one this Binghe would want more at his side.”
“Well, yeah, but not—” Shizun’s face regained some color. He waved his hand, putting it in front of his face as if it were one of his fans (his sweet, simple fans that were never high end silk or used to violently scare someone when they snapped open). “That’s not the same!”
“It is to this Binghe,” Luo Binghe said and moved closer, catching Shizun’s hip with one hand and gently pulling down his wrist covering his face with the other. “If Shizun has no objections beyond ones he thinks Binghe might have?”
Shizun’s mouth opened and closed several times like a fish (a beautiful and perfect fish) tossed onto dry land.
“Can this—can I kiss Shizun?” Luo Binghe asked, moving closer to do so either way.
Shizun huffed. “Not if you call me that while you’re doing it.” He blinked and then started to try and back track, “No, that’s—not what I meant, you know that’s not—”
Luo Binghe kissed him.
Shizun let him.
Then he stopped him and adjusted the angle of Luo Binghe’s head and chided him for his exuberance and teeth.
Then Luo Binghe kissed him again and Shizun kissed him back.
Epilogue—
“Shizun?” Luo Binghe asked, stroking his fingers down the plane of Shizun’s side like he’d enjoyed earlier.
“Don’t call me that in bed,” Shizun said, staring up at the canopy of the ceiling. “I think—Binghe, can you get me a guqin?”
Luo Binghe threw the blanket off and almost jumped out of bed before Shizun’s fingers latched onto him. He was laughing and shaking Luo Binghe’s arm. “Not now. Ridiculous! Come here!” He tugged Luo Binghe closer and settled him into his arms, letting Luo Binghe rest his head on his chest. “My cultivation feels different,” Shizun said, after a moment of cradling Luo Binghe close. “I can easily spread my energy through the spirit veins in my hands again.”
Luo Binghe lifted his chin, resting it on Shizun’s collar bone and watching as his love frowned thoughtfully at his own elegant hands. “Can I see?”
Shizun glanced towards him and nodded, handing him his wrist. Luo Binghe spread his thumb over the pulse point, luxuriating in the simple pleasure of feeling the bare skin and Shizun’s pulse before he reached out with his qi to—
“Shizun! You—you’re not longer infected with without-a-cure!”
“I’m—what?” Shizun frowned pulling his own wrist back. An amusing series of expressions crossed his face and then his eyes opened wide and he looked almost horrified. Luo Binghe sat up quickly, calling his name and checking him over.
“Proud Immortal Demon Way,” Shizun said, numbly and then glanced up at Luo Binghe with a strange inscrutable look. Then he laughed, nervous and awkward.
“Shizun?”
Shizun shook his head and then waved his hand and then dragged Luo Binghe back down to hold tightly. “Never mind. I’m not—I’m not dealing with this now.”
Luo Binghe didn’t quite understand but his concerns were brushed aside when Shizun smacked his back and added, “And don’t call me that when we’re like this!”
“Yes, Shizun,” Luo Binghe said and laughed when Shizun smacked him again.