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Chapter Text

If forced to explain it, Shen Qinqiu could have given you the bullet points: 

He activated the Scenario Pusher. There was a weird, glitchy little crackle, but he didn't have time to think about it, because Binghe was moving towards him, and then the floor shifted and gave way under his feet -

Everything went too quickly, rushing at him like a carnival ride gone wrong:

He was tumbling down through the darkness, and

He was landing hard on the ground, back first, the whole weight of it slamming into the rock below, and

It was like that old Internet saying, right?

Rocks fall, everyone dies.

[CRITICAL PATH ERROR. Attempting to reroute to a previous save.]

[Rerouting …]

[Rerouting …]

[Rerouting …]

[Reinitializing …]

The world filtered back in in pieces: the air against his skin, the light against his eyelids, the familiar smell of the perfume pouches he kept above his bed in the Bamboo House -

[Error: OLD_DATA corrupted.]

[Attempting to restore OLD_DATA. Please do not disengage while attempt is in progress.]

What the hell! System?

[Restoring...]

System, what the fuck does that mean?

[Restoring…]

[Restoring…]

[Restoring…]

System??

[Restoration failed. Reverting to previous save state.]

There was a loud ding that would have made him flinch if he hadn’t been living with this bullshit for years. Then the pain hit, and Shen Qingqiu doubled over, gasping for air. His head felt like it was about to explode, like there was a metal coil embedded right into his brain and someone was heating it up, or maybe using it to make dubstep. His ears were ringing. He was in - he had been - what? !

[Activation code: “Dumbfuck author, dumbfuck novel.” System automatically triggered.]

What the fuck!

He sat up, eyes wide. The room was bright and familiar, because it was his own fucking house, and Yue Qingyuan was sitting by his bedside.

[Welcome to the System. The System operates in line with the design concept “YOU CAN YOU UP, NO CAN NO BB”; we hope to provide you with the best possible experience. It is our sincere wish that during your time, you can fulfill your desires and, in accordance with your wish, transform a stupid work into a magnificent, high-quality, first-rate classic. We hope you enjoy.]

What’s there to enjoy! System, isn’t this all a bit too familiar?

[User may recognise this scenario from the novel Proud Immortal Demon Way.]

Whatever!

Shen Qingqiu reached for his fan (on the left side of his pillow, as it always was) and snapped it open, fanning himself. His head was still pounding, and sweat was making strands of hair stick to his face - unpleasant - but no part of him was being crushed by rocks, which was something.

“Shidi finally woke up,” Yue Qingyuan said warmly. “Do you have any discomfort?”

It hurt to look at him. It made him think about their final conversation, and he found he really, really didn’t want to right now.

“I am fine,” he said instead, as neutrally as he could manage. “What happened?”

“You came down with a fever,” Yue Qingyuan said. “Qingqiu-shidi, the Immortal Alliance Conference is really not worth your health -”

“You worry too much,” Shen Qingqiu muttered, but his head was spinning. He’d really come all the way back to the start of this mess.

“What can I do but worry when you won’t take care of yourself?” Yue Qingyuan said. His expression struck some horrible balance between fond and upset. It stuck in Shen Qingqiu’s throat, too sweet and too painful all at once. He couldn’t stop thinking about Xuan Su, about that whole stupid tragedy -

None of this was meant for Shen Qingqiu.

Not this Shen Qingqiu, anyway. He swallowed compulsively.

Well, it wasn’t as though he could do much now, anyway, with the OOC-lock presumably still in place.

Just as he thought it, the System dinged again.

[The System has successfully activated! Bound role: Luo Binghe’s master, Cang Qiong Mountain Sect’s Peak Lord of Qing Jing Peak, “Shen Qingqiu.” Weapon: the sword Xiu Ya. Starting B-Points: 100.]

Yeah, yeah. Shen Qingqiu waved it away. Yue Qingyuan looked concerned, still, but that was the baseline for this sort of situation, wasn't it?

Shen Qingqiu sighed. "As you can see, I am perfectly fine. Now leave, and let me rest in peace."

Then he glared pointedly at the door. Yue Qingyuan, who must have been fluent in the intricate language of Avoidant Asshole for most of his life, took the hint. He quickly made his excuses and left, but he kept sneaking Shen Qingqiu relieved and worried glances one after another as he went.

Awkward.

Left to his own devices, Shen Qingqiu was free to panic in peace. 

So he’d died again! Sure! Why not! Why not go out in the most Looney Toons way of all time at a super dramatic moment! That makes for a good story, huh? That makes for a first-rate classic , System?

[Respectfully, the System has no record of such an event occurring.]

Yeah, well, fuck your mother!

He fell back onto the bed, blowing out an explosive breath.

So the System was at least a little bugged, and he was back at the beginning of everything.

He could work with that. At least the worlds weren’t actively merging, and Binghe -

Binghe. 

Shen Qingqiu shot out of bed and then immediately had to lean against the wall to not fall over. His vision blurred, shuddering and warping in time with his heartbeat. This wasn’t like Without a Cure, but his body had just gone through a fatal qi deviation. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t the one who had been killed; the edge of fever remained, even if the worst was over.

Fuck. Okay. One thing at a time.

When he thought about it, this was really a blessing in disguise. Maybe if he was careful, he would be able to avert Maigu Ridge, as well as certain … other events. For a moment, he thought about keeping his distance from Binghe altogether, treating him neither poorly nor too well. It might keep everyone safer, perhaps, if he could be Binghe's impersonal, blandly present mentor, someone who would inspire too little animosity to be turned into a human stick and too little loyalty for … well.

It was a moot point, anyway, because the thought made his chest hurt. He kept remembering the look on Binghe's face, before he revealed what he had done at Maigu Ridge, the way his eyes looked when Shen Qingqiu let go of his hand.

The way the Binghe who was here right now, the Binghe who was fourteen years old , was nursing his wounds in the woodshed. Wounds that Shen Qingqiu - the original goods - put on him! Fuck!

Who could deny him the safety and care he has been lacking? Only a monster, that's who. Certainly not Shen Qingqiu - the thought alone is enough to make him want to die on the spot.

With that option firmly out the window and yeeted off the peak, there were other things to consider.

"System," he said. "The OOC lock is on, right?"

[Correct. To turn it off, User may complete a starting quest.]

Right. There were a few things he wanted to do before then, but that was the first big point on the list: The Skinner demon, and then keeping Liu Qingge alive, not catching Without a Cure when Sha Hualing came around … the Abyss.

Even thinking about it left him feeling sick.

"System," he said, already knowing the answer, "does Binghe need to be thrown into the Abyss?"

[Luo Binghe being thrown into the Abyss is an integral part of the plot structure of Proud Immortal Demon Way.]

"But can it be avoided?"

[The cost of failing this quest is 10,000 B-Points.]

"Ten thousand B-Points, I know, I know."

Well, then there was nothing to it.

He was going to work out some strategies that would let him really farm points.

-

He was floating in a dark, empty space. It seemed at once as vast as oceans or as small as a woodshed. Normally, he might have gotten a clearer image from the way the air moved, the way it smelled and tasted, but now it felt strangely as though there was no air at all. As though his body was not there at all; like he was a ghost, drifting.

The memory of his Shizun, body crushed and broken under the rocks, stabbed through him.

Ah. Perhaps it was more correct to say that he had set himself adrift. His hands clenched - if they were hands - and his breath caught - if it was breath - but before he could do anything else, there was the loud, clear sound of a chime.

He steeled himself.

No-one stepped out of the darkness; instead, a thin, translucent square appeared in the distance. It appeared to be made from some sort of pale, milky blue rock, polished down until it was perfectly and uniformly level. In the darkness, it seemed lit from within, casting everything around it in a faint, ghostly glow.

Words appeared on the face of it, and a monotone voice read them out, though he was too far away to make out what it was saying. He moved cautiously toward it, but just as he got close enough to read the words that were still engraved on its surface, the chime sounded again. The voice spoke, clearer now, as the words shifted and changed.

[Error: Duplicate found. Do you want to replace it?]

[YES]         [N̸O̵]̷̘̓

"Duplicate of what?" he murmured. There was no answer. The NO flickered slightly, as though pieces of it were crumbling off and then reforming.

He would not have survived as long as he had in the Abyss if he had been in the habit of touching unknown objects carelessly.

However. Wherever he was, this space didn't offer him a lot of options, and he could no longer feel Xin Mo, and Shizun was -

Sometimes, the only way to move forward was to do something reckless.

He raised a hand. As he did so, his fingers brushed close to the square marked NO. It made his ears ring, and for a brief moment, he felt as though a part of him, too, was crumbling away and then reforming, over and over in an infinite, wrong spiral -

Without taking another moment to think, he slapped his palm hard against the square that read YES.

The face of the rock felt like nothing beneath his fingers. The characters on it rippled again. The voice spoke.

[Overwriting duplicate…]

And then, lazily flickering in and out of existence:

[Overwriting…]

[Overwriting…]

[Overwriting…]

[Overwrite complete.]

Ding!

Luo Binghe woke up in the woodshed. Gingerly, he pushed himself up, squinting through the darkness. His arms were shaky and weak; his mouth tasted like blood.  Wrong , he thought, but his head felt clearer than it had in a long time. 

It must be day outside; shafts of light pushed through the cracks of the walls, the slatted wood. The smell of drying wood and dust was simultaneously so familiar and so far away into the past that it made his eyes sting.

What was -

Ding!

The transparent, blue square appeared in front of him again. It was smaller here, roughly the size of a book.

[Welcome to the System. The System operates in line with the design concept “ERROR: PARAMETER NOT FOUND”; we hope to provide you with the best possible experien̵c̸e̶. It is our sincere wish that during your time, you can fulfill your desires and, in accordance with your wish, ERROR: VARIABLE NOT FOUND. We hope you enjoy.]

That raised more questions than it answered. "Fulfill your desires"? Perhaps, if he was truly back in the woodshed and not in some strange, sideways afterlife - perhaps he had a chance to change things for the better, to figure out what he had done to make Shizun cast him aside and undo it, to stay with him in the Bamboo House -

If he could trust it. If he could trust any of this. And even then …

[The System has successfully activated! Bound role: Disciple of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect’s Qing Jing Peak, “Luo Binghe.” Weapon: None. Starting B-Points: 100.]

Luo Binghe stood up, glaring in the dim light of the blue square. He didn't feel any different than he had the first time he’d been this age, whatever age it was. The memory of pain when it was no longer happening was an abstraction; the memory of weakness, in the physical, straining way, was the same. Some part of him had forgotten it, even as it felt etched indelibly into his mind.

Well, not any longer.

He recognized the way his legs shook, the way his stomach ached with hunger. He was intimately familiar with the childish ache of every poorly won bruise. It felt like the return of some old acquaintance, fresh pain adding context to old memories, a sharpness that painted them in bright and screaming colour.

The lack of contact with the demon part of him was worse and more jarring; a phantom amputation. But it felt … the same, he thought. It really felt the same as it had, the first time around.

So what did it mean, being bound to the role of Luo Binghe? Had he taken the place of some other, younger version of himself? 

There was a loud knock on the shed door. "Come out! Shizun wants to see you!"

Ming Fan waited outside, scowling. Luo Binghe shuffled meekly past him.

It felt strange to see him like this. Ming Fan had changed his tune about Luo Binghe at some point after Shizun had changed his mind and started treating him differently. By the time Luo Binghe returned from the Abyss, Ming Fan had become mostly irrelevant. Luo Binghe barely even begrudged him for remaining Shizun's disciple while Luo Binghe himself had been cast aside.

Now a shot of bitter resentment pulsed through him. He glanced up at Ming Fan through his lashes.

I could kill you right now, he thought. I could kill you slowly, one cut for every blow you've ever landed on me.

But he couldn't, of course. Not anymore; not yet.

Besides, Shizun wouldn't like it.

Ming Fan followed him to Shizun's house, as though Luo Binghe might try to sneak away if he didn't keep a close eye on him.

He needn't have bothered, of course. Luo Binghe wouldn't have turned away from this for anything in the world. Every step made him feel brighter, as though he had swallowed the fragment of a star.

Then they were at Shizun's door.

When had he been sent back to? What had happened, the last time around? Binghe thought he might be … thirteen, perhaps, or fourteen. Perhaps Shizun had not changed his mind about him yet.

But perhaps he had .

Luo Binghe hoped so. He hoped with a raw desperation that made him feel horribly young; small and fragile and exactly his own body's age.

Please, Shizun, he thought. Please -

But he wasn't even sure how to finish the thought. No words seemed big enough to cover the aching want that had made a home in his chest.

"What are you waiting for," Ming Fan snapped.

What was he waiting for?

He pushed the door open.

Shizun was standing with his back to him; when Binghe stepped inside, he turned to face him.

His robes were white and pale green. His hair was partially pulled up, but it was messier than usual. Luo Binghe's hands itched to reach out and fix it.

His face had been severe, once. Luo Binghe still remembered the cold, sharp twist of his mouth - had half expected it - but at some point, his Shizun had changed the way he wore his face.

Now his expression was remote, but there was a mildness to it, like a landscape [in the] spring thaw.

There was a small bottle in his hands.

A memory stirred.

"Shizun," Luo Binghe said, the word pulled from his mouth without his permission.

He went to kneel, but Shizun stopped him.

"No need," he said, his voice unmarred by disgust. Then he tossed the bottle in his hands towards Binghe with an elegant flick of the wrist. "This is medicine." He paused before continuing, a little sardonically, "Don't let anyone see; they might think my Qing Jing Peak abuses its disciples."

Luo Binghe caught the bottle in his hands. His eyes stung; he wanted desperately to burst into tears.

How had this gone, the last time? He remembered it, now: He had been fourteen, and Shizun had just gone through a devastating illness. Luo Binghe hadn't seen it, but people talked. Maybe not to him, most of the time, but whatever Ning Yingying didn't tell him about, he often overheard.

It was the moment that marked Shizun's change in attitude towards him.

"Thank you for the medicine, Shizun," Luo Binghe said. When he opened it, he knew, it would smell like camphor and stinging meadow weed.

He looked up, blinking wetly.

Shizun was looking back at him, as though he was waiting for Luo Binghe to say something else. When their eyes met, he drew in a shaky little breath.

"Binghe," he said quietly. The look on his face was cracked open.

This wasn't how it had gone, the first time around. Was it Luo Binghe's inability to do as he had done back then? Or was it something else?

"Shizun," Luo Binghe repeated. He wanted to keep saying it. He wanted to lean in close, to let Shizun gently pat his head and comfort him.

He wanted to tell Shizun about dying and coming back. He wanted to tell Shizun everything , about how sorry he was, about how much he loved him, about how much Shizun deserved to be loved, he wanted to let Shizun hear how badly he had been ruined when Shizun pushed him into the Abyss, not by the horrors there but by the sword in his chest, how badly he had been ruined when Shizun died in his arms, and died in his arms, and died before Luo Binghe could even get to him, the way he was so tired of being left behind that he thought he might die, but somehow he still kept going -

Maybe it would frighten him too much. But maybe, if Luo Binghe could get him to listen -

Maybe he could at least tell Luo Binghe if there was anything Luo Binghe could change. If there was any way to get a different outcome.

"Shizun," Luo Binghe said again. "I-"

Shizun winced. His face shuttered, becoming as blank and empty as an unused sheet of paper.

Before Luo Binghe could ask him what was wrong, a loud chime went off in his head.

[Warning! Sharing DATA NOT FOUND is forbidden.]

"What do you mean, forbidden?" Luo Binghe snapped. Shen Qingqiu did not appear to notice, somehow - it was as though the System was bending reality around it.

[Sharing DATA NOT FOUND may critically destabilize the CORE NARRATIVE. This destabilization might lead to a CASCADING NARRATIVE COLLAPSE, which would permanently void all activity within this node. As such, it cannot be allowed to happen.]

Fine. With enough time, Luo Binghe was sure he would find some way to circumvent it. He could be patient. He had - he would have resources.

"Thank you for your courteous explanation," he said politely, filing away the information for later.

Now he looked up at Shizun, whose face was pale as old bones.

Let me help you, he thought, with a desperation that felt as acute as any other illness. Let me take care of you, Shen Qingqiu. You will never be harmed or suffer as long as you are in my care.

It wasn't true, of course. Luo Binghe had already proven himself to be lacking in that area, over and over, and this fourteen year old body did not make him better suited for the task.

That didn't stop him from wanting, as the silence settled between them, to reach out his hands and straighten the hem of Shizun's robes. To make him tea to strengthen him after his illness. To make sure he was eating well, because Shizun often forgot.

Please, he thought. He wanted too much and too many things at once, and so the word felt all-consuming, heavy in his mouth, in his lungs; it flowed like the blood parasites once had in his veins. He couldn't filter out a single thing to want; it all flowed together like water in a stream.

Please.

Shizun's mouth pressed together in a thin line. Then his fan snapped up to cover the lower half of his face.

"Leave me, Luo Binghe," he said, sinking into the sandalwood chair in the corner. His voice was strained. "I wish to be alone."

Chapter Text

The thing about doing this shit a second time around was, Shen Qingqiu couldn't stop looking at people and seeing everything he already knew about them. It wasn't as though the first go around had been easy , but on some level he'd been interacting with everything - with every one - like it was still just a story he'd fallen into. He was pretty sure the small bit of distance it had given him was the only thing that had kept him from losing his entire fucking shit back when he first got here.

It was different now.

How could he go back to the way things had been, after he'd seen Binghe again at Maigu Ridge and seen him? There was just no way.

And the effect carried over, somehow. It was like a filter had been ripped away, and now everything was - a bit too close.

A bit too real.

Which was stupid! It wasn't like he hadn't thought people were people or anything in the first place!

It just meant that narrative causality wouldn't save him if he fucked up. That there was another degree of responsibility that he was forced to acknowledge.

Like, interpersonally.

He really was out here rawdogging reality, and it fucking sucked.

But there was nothing to do but get used to it. And, he thought, once he returned from Shuang Hu City and the OOC lock had been removed, he didn't have to do it alone.

After depositing his disciples at Qing Jing peak with some vague line about reporting the incident with the Skinner demon, he went to An Ding peak.

Shang Qinghua was buried in a small mountain of expense reports when Shen Qingqiu swept into his office.

"Shen-shixiong," he said, unable to entirely mask his alarm with politeness. He moved to stand.

"No need," Shen Qingqiu said. He thought about dragging this out, about making him sweat and then pulling the rug out from under him, but in the end, he didn't have the patience for it, so he settled for just the rug-pulling. "Airplane."

Shang Qinghua sputtered, turning white and grey and then bright pink. "Ahaha, sorry?"

Shen Qingqiu sat down in front of him and made horrible eye contact. "You heard me."

"No, really, I don't think I did?"

" Airplane ," Shen Qingqiu repeated. "I know who you are."

"Ah, that's - how? " Shang Qinghua asked. Then his face changed. "Wait, are you - you're a transmigrator ?"

Shen Qingqiu grinned at him, a little meanly. "Did you think you were the only one?"

"Well," Shang Qinghua said, " yeah, obviously."

"Surprise."

"You nearly gave me a heart attack!" Shang Qinghua said. "Wait - you said Airplane, so - are you a fan? "

Shen Qingqiu's mouth twitched. This was going to be just as obnoxious as last time, wasn't it?

"More like an anti-fan," Shen Qingqiu muttered. And then, because it was only fair, "Peerless Cucumber."

"Holy shit ," Shang Qinghua said. "What an honour, bro."

"For you or me?"

"For you, obviously."

"Fuck you."

"This is incredible," Shang Qinghua said, looking a bit too delighted.

"Whatever, dude," Shen Qingqiu said.

"That line from that face looks so wrong," Shang Qinghua said. "Sorry you got stuck in that guy, though, I know the ending isn't -"

"We're not doing that."

"Haha, what? I don't think you can really stop the protagonist from tearing your limbs off, man."

Shen Qingqiu shuddered, remembering the punishment the System had given him. The way the other Binghe had leaned over him, had taken his -

"We're not doing that," he repeated, more firmly this time.

"What are you going to do, then, kill him? I don't think he can be killed, bro, you'll only make things worse for yourself."

Shen Qingqiu shot him a withering look. "I'm not going to kill him . I'm going to be nice to him , obviously."

"Okay, good luck with that," Shang Qinghua said.

"It worked out … mostly fine," Shen Qingqiu said. It was mostly true. Better than being a human stick, anyway.

Shang Qinghua was giving him a mildly concerned look.

"Oh, didn't I mention?" Shen Qingqiu said placidly. "I'm a time traveler too."

-

After Shang Qinghua had stopped losing his shit, and Shen Qingqiu had explained what had happened, and Shang Qinghua had stopped losing his shit again, they got some tea sent up by a harried-looking disciple. Once they had left, Shen Qingqiu straightened out his sleeves and got down to business.

"I'm not throwing him into the Abyss," he said. "Not this time."

"I don't think the System will let you not do it," Shang Qinghua said. He was leaning over his desk, chin in hand. "I haven't had any issues with it, I mostly just go with the flow anyway, but that's gotta be way too big, right?"

"Failure to complete the quest has a ten thousand point penalty," Shen Qingqiu said. "So I'll just have to make sure I have more than that."

"How much did you have last time ?"

He told him.

Shang Qinghua nearly choked on a seed. "Fuck! That's-"

"Too low, yes. So I'm asking you , Airplane," Shen Qingqiu gracefully cut him off. "How can I farm points?"

Shang Qinghua took a purposefully long sip of tea. If Shen Qingqiu wasn't sitting with his knees tucked in under himself, he would have kicked him under the table.

"You just have to lean into the story, bro," Shang Qinghua said at last. "I don't know what to tell you."

"Well, the story is bullshit!"

"Thanks," Shang Qinghua said drily.

Shen Qingqiu rolled his eyes at him. "Anyway, clearly we can change things and still get points, we just need to improve the story. Instigate character moments, complete quests, that kind of stuff."

Shang Qinghua made a thoughtful sound.

"How do we make this story good?" Shen Qingqiu asked. "Don't hold out on me, dude, last time around I had to learn like half the shit about Shen Jiu's backstory through Meng Mo."

"Okay, first of all, that was another version of me, so you can't really hold me accountable -"

" Watch me. "

"- second of all, hang on." Shang Qinghua pulled out a blank sheet of parchment from his pile. "I may have some ideas."

-

Time passed.

Soon after their first meeting, Shizun gave Luo Binghe a new training manual. It was almost exactly like last time: Shizun handed it to him and said, cool and aloof, that this would suit him better than his old one. Luo Binghe thanked him and took it, though he already knew every page by heart. A gift from Shizun was a gift from Shizun, and Luo Binghe could read between the lines of it: that Shizun wanted him to learn well and become strong enough that he could protect himself.

I will, Shizun, he thought, so fiercely that the words pressed up against his teeth. I will.

And he would protect Shizun, too, when it came down to it. He wouldn't be too slow next time, or too angry, or distracted by his own petty feelings. In this one way, maybe he would finally be able to be enough to keep Shizun safe.

"Thanking Shizun]" Luo Binghe murmured. Shizun gave him a long, impassive look.

It was almost the same as last time, but the differences stuck out. The timing was different. Shizun wore his hair a little differently. too, as though he had suddenly begun to favour a slightly different style. When he gave Luo Binghe the manual, his hands shook.

A suspicion was lighting in Luo Binghe's mind.

Clutching the manual to his chest, he left the bamboo house. He held the suspicion carefully in his mind, and began to think .

-

Something was different this time around.

Instead of waiting until after Sha Hualing's attempted takeover of the peak, Shizun let Luo Binghe move into the bamboo house almost the moment when they arrived back at Qing Jing Peak after dealing with the Skinner Demon. In the handful of days before he went into seclusion to cultivate, it was easy to fall into their old routine: the cooking and cleaning and Shizun's gentle hands brushing his hair. The safety and comfort of it. It felt almost easy to close his eyes to the future, the uneasy, sickening promise of inevitable loss, to lose himself in the gentle present.

But he couldn't stop himself from noticing all the ways in which things were different.

It wasn't that they were wrong. It was just that he could not account for them with his return to the past alone. Surely he hadn't done anything differently enough to warrant the invitation to Shizun's spare room so soon? Surely Shizun had not looked at him with quite this intensity, or this level of open fondness, so early? He seemed to be set on giving Binghe more training than he remembered, too - more careful sparring, more quiet comments on the ways Binghe made himself pretend to struggle at the arts. (Not too much, of course. Just enough that it wouldn't be suspicious, and to keep Shizun entertained.)

What could account for such a change? It couldn’t have been another qi-deviation - Luo Binghe had been keeping a careful eye on him, and two deviations in such a short span of time was more likely to kill him than not. Just thinking about it was upsetting enough that Luo Binghe had to go wash the floors of the bamboo house until they gleamed.

But perhaps -

Perhaps -

Perhaps when Luo Binghe traveled back to this point in time, he did not do so alone.

The thought left him feeling so fragile that it took time to be able to think it straight on: a bird beating its wings bloody against the cage of his ribs; a moth shivering between his teeth.

But (and every day Shizun was Shizun, familiar-but-not-too-familiar)

But (and every day Binghe thought he could believe it more)

But (please don’t leave me behind)

But (please don’t leave me behind)

But (please -)

But in the end, he couldn’t stop himself from believing it.

Maybe Shizun really was here with him.

There was a part of Luo Binghe that desperately wanted to pretend that this second time around was a blank slate, a chance to do it right without Shizun ever knowing how badly he had fucked everything up. And then some other poisonous, vindictive part of him wanted Shizun to remember, not because of any good thing, but because if Binghe was the only one left to remember the Abyss, when even the scars from that time had been taken from him -

He didn't want to feel that way about Shizun.

But if he did remember, then -

After what Luo Binghe had done, how could Shizun still smile at him? How could he still look at Luo Binghe like this, if he knew?

And then there was the matter of this … System. When Luo Binghe had tried to enter Shizun's dreams, it had shrieked a repeated sequence of letters at him, chittering like some bothersome insect, and refused him to even use his dream powers. Luo Binghe had been tempted to hunt it down in his own mindscape, but had been unable to find any sign of it when it wasn't actively communicating with him. Even then, the parts of it that were visible were a manifestation, untouchable in any way that mattered.

Did Shizun have his own System? Some of his pauses seemed to suggest it, the way his expression sometimes went a little vague before he made a decision. The way he had flinched, every so often, in the time before their encounter with the Skinner demon. Had flinched in the same way that he had the first time around, back when Luo Binghe had been fourteen years old in mind as well as in body, now that he was thinking about it. It was so slight anyone else might have missed it, but the Luo Binghe of the past had been paying close attention, too, even if it was for different reasons than the ones he had now. There had been a time when cataloging every twitch of Shizun's expression, every shift of skin and muscle, had been less a matter of love and more a matter of survival.

He had just been reading him wrong, of course - Shizun had just wanted him to prove himself. The Luo Binghe of that time had just been unable to see the larger plan, not understanding that some things were necessary.

But.

He didn't like to think about it.

But if Shizun had come back with him -and if he did have his own System - was it restricting what Shizun could do, too? Would it threaten him?

"System," Luo Binghe murmured, pausing in the middle of dusting Shizun's collection of scholarly texts, "this Binghe is curious - how many people are currently tied to you?"

[The query is too ambiguous for this System to answer. Please narrow your search criteria and try again with a different question.]

Luo Binghe glared at the shelf in front of him. The wood grain was very fine. "Is Shen Qingqiu tied to the System?"

[Due to our privacy policy, we are unfortunately not able to reveal the personal information of other users.]

Privacy policy?

"But I am not the only user?"

[Correct. Luo Binghe, bound to ERROR. CHARACTER TOKEN DUPLICATE, is not the only user of the System in this instance.]

Luo Binghe considered threatening it to gain more information, but he had no leverage. He went back to dusting instead, being mindful of the corners. The floating square that signified the System's active presence disappeared, taking its sickly glow with it.

"Good riddance," Luo Binghe muttered.

He may not have gotten the information he needed, but this was still a hint at something that might be useful later. As it was, he would have to wait until his meeting with Meng Mo to (he blew out a disgusted breath) unlock his latent dream powers to investigate further.

He had time, he told himself.

He could be good. He could avoid rushing things.

It helped (even if he hated it, even if it hurt) that, if things went more or less like they had the first time around, Shizun would be in seclusion until around that time. There was no choice but to be patient.

-

Sha Hualing arrived, and Shizun returned from seclusion just in time to meet her. Everything went exactly as it had the last time, down to the letter, even -

Luo Binghe had tried to stop him this time, because even if he hadn't really thought Shizun would make the same mistake twice -

Well. He had. He had, and despite knowing it was a possibility, Luo Binghe still hadn't been able to stop him.

Afterwards, when Shizun had been taken away by Mu Qingfang, Binghe had been left to stew in his own misery.

Maybe Shizun hadn't traveled back with him at all? Or maybe - and this thought had a bitterer taste - maybe Shizun had not made a choice to save Luo Binghe either time this had happened after all.

Maybe the System had forced him.

It hurt too much to think it, so Luo Binghe shoved the thought down and went to make congee.

-

The dream realm did not catch him like it had the first time around; the memories pulled at him, but he was too used to his own dreamspace now for them to truly draw him in. Still, he played along, going through the motions as well as he could. Shizun was here with him, after all.

Even here, Shizun looked little wan, still tired from his initial experience with Without a Cure. Luo Binghe couldn't quite stop himself from glancing over at him every so often and thinking, with an intensity that jarred him, do you remember? Did you come back here with me, or am I really alone?

Once, Shizun caught him looking. His face softened immediately, and he gently patted the top of Luo Binghe's head.

"Don't worry," he said mildly. "Binghe has good instincts for this sort of thing."

Luo Binghe nodded and turned his face away, blinking hard. The first time they had done this, Shizun had told him that he needed to become stronger, but not now; instead he cut himself off half-way:

“The ways of demons are extremely unpredictable and difficult to guard against. However -”

Then he stopped, as suddenly as though he was choking, and looked away. His mouth became a thin, pale line.

“This teacher will always help Binghe,” he said finally, “as long as he is able.”

Luo Binghe loved him so much it felt as though he had swallowed a lump of hot metal.

“This kind of thing…” he said carefully, hearing the echo of his past words and feeling the irony of it, meaning it now more than ever and hoping it would be enough, “I definitely won’t let it happen again.”

-

The barrier broke; with a near-imperceptible twitch of his fingers. Luo Binghe sent Shizun to sleep.

“How interesting,” a creaky, old voice said. “To be able to break the barrier and remove another dreamer so cleanly from your dreams with no training? You’re quite something, boy.”

“Meng Mo,” Luo Binghe said. “Let’s not pretend we don’t both know why I’m here.”

“Hmmm,” Meng Mo said, like it was something he was considering for his own amusement. “And you want me to look into that particular why a little more, do you?”

“I can do it myself,” Luo Binghe said. The restrictions on his dream powers had already been lifted; the moment the barrier broke, the System had chimed its approval and rewarded him with points. “This is just a formality.”

“Humour an old man,” Meng Mo said. “It’s been a very boring century so far.”

“Hm.”

“Besides.” Meng Mo had not taken on a physical form, but there was still a sensation of … sidling. Binghe suppressed the urge to shudder. “I suspect you don’t feel ready to delve quite that deeply into your shizun’s mind just yet, hmm?”

Luo Binghe scowled. “Do it, then. But if anything -”

“Don’t worry, brat, I won’t let anything bad happen to him. Why would I spoil my own fun?”

Chapter Text

SPRING

After he had finished recuperating, Shizun took Luo Binghe with him on a mission: Collecting rare plants.

"Not everything can be a night hunt," he said, with a huffy self-consciousness that made Luo Binghe want to kiss him.

"I don't mind it, Shizun," Luo Binghe said, and then had to backtrack. "Th-this Binghe-"

"No need to be so deferential when we're alone, Binghe," Shizun said. He quickly added, as though it was a good and sensible reason: "After all, we will be travelling in close quarters for a while."

Luo Binghe looked down deferentially, mostly to hide his smile. "Yes, Shizun."

Shizun patted him on the head.

"I expect Binghe to be paying close attention," he said.

"Of course, Shizun," Luo Binghe said. As if he could ever do anything else, when it was Shizun teaching him.

-

The hills were so bright it almost hurt to look at them, the verdant greens shot through with whites and yellows, blues and vibrant pinks. Sometimes a breeze swept in, making it all move in gentle waves, a sea of splendid colour. Shizun led him through it all, murmuring names and uses as he went.

Luo Binghe found he recognized most of them from his first life, but he hadn't known what they were then. Now Shizun told him about the phantom wallflower (to ward a physical place from evil spirits) and the horsetail hyacinth (when crushed and mixed into a paste, it protected against physical harm) and rainbow sweetgrass (which soothed the mind) and many more besides. He put them in a qiankun pouch and told Luo Binghe to collect his own. He explained, in exacting terms, how to best preserve and store them.

"Perhaps I should have brought Mu Qingfang along for this," he said, halfway through the day.

"Shizun is doing a better job explaining," Luo Binghe said. He did not mention the last time he had interacted with Mu Qingfang (it didn't happen). It didn't matter (it did).

Shizun hmmed. But he looked a little pleased.

Luo Binghe busied himself with another cluster of flowers, each head sprouting blue petals that were small and rounded. Their leaves were long and had a furred texture when he ran his fingers over them.

He still hadn’t been able to find a way to deal with the System, beyond making it be quiet. Whenever he went to sleep, it would force its [ DAILY MESSAGE LOG SUMMARY (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ ] on him, making him scroll through seemingly endless lists of numbers with minimal context attached. At least it was better than seeing them in real time, constantly interrupting every situation.

He hadn’t gone into Shizun’s dreams yet.

He would, soon.

He would.

Meng Mo had taken a look already, and had confirmed that, while he was unable to actually see it, there was something in Shizun’s mind that was … different. Familiar. Approximately System-shaped.

Of course, he was being obnoxious about the whole thing.

But Luo Binghe had time. It was still years until the Abyss, at least, which was the first real break in the current holding pattern.

He could pick some flowers with Shizun in the meantime. It was no hardship.

There were plenty of flowers out there, he knew, that would poison a man through a touch like that. That would kill him, or drive him so mad with lust he might -

“Ah, Binghe, careful,” Shizun called, but it was too late. The leaf had crumpled against Binghe's palm.

"Apologies, Shizun." The sap was dark green and somehow both stickily wet and powdery at the same time. It stained the lines of his hand like moss on a rock.

"Let me see," Shizun said, suddenly at Binghe's side. He lifted Binghe's hand and turned it over. His fingers were cool and smooth against Binghe's skin, except for the calluses from playing the guqin. Binghe wanted to turn his hand over and grasp that dignified palm in his own, to interlace their fingers -

"Hm," said Shizun, shoulders relaxing just a little. "Not a papap - ah. Binghe, you really should be more careful. You never know what could happen with the flowers that grow in this world."

Binghe was familiar enough.

"Yes, Shizun," he said obediently. His skin itched, just a little, where the sap touched it. Not in a hot, restless way; just the natural reaction of human skin when exposed to an irritant. It had been a long time since he’d felt anything like it. In the sunlight, with Shizun holding his hand, he found himself not minding it.

The lines of his palm were still a darker green than the rest of it, flowing deep and strong, unbroken.

Not like moss.

Like rivers.

-

Total B-Points: 1,532

-

SUMMER

In the dream, he was in the Bamboo House. It was night, and everything was quiet. Shen Qingqiu rose from his bed and stumbled elegantly into the main room of the house. That room was still, too, though the door to Binghe's room was tightly shut, and the door that lead outside was wide open. The moonlight flowed in like water.

"What the fuck," Shen Qingqiu muttered.

This was a dream, wasn't it? He had a horrible feeling that if he stepped outside he would find himself right at Binghe's sword mound.

But there was nothing to it, was there? He pulled his hair up into a messy knot and stepped outside.

The sword mound.

Well! Like he hadn't known it was coming!

Everything was deathly quiet here, too. In the moonlight, everything seemed ghostly, leached of all colour like the bottom of the sea. His bare feet sank into the soft, cool grass, so at least there was something here that didn't suck.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. He'd been in the habit for so long he didn't think he would ever bend the shape of the words out of his tongue. "I'll do it differently this time."

"Shizun."

Shen Qingqiu nearly fell over.

"Binghe," he said serenely.

When he turned around, it was the adult Binghe who was standing there, the one he'd left behind. Shen Qingqiu wanted to chew glass.

"Shizun," Binghe said, "what is this?"

Shen Qingqiu laughed once, sharp and hard, before he managed to turn it into something nonchalant and airy.

It wasn't his best work, and Shen Qingqiu wasn't much of a laughing guy, but that was fine. It wasn't as though this Binghe was real.

"It's nothing," he said. "Let's go back inside."

The walk back to the bamboo house was longer than the one-step-FUCKYOU-sword-mound situation, because of course it was. Binghe walked close enough that Shen Qingqiu could feel the heat of his body through his sleeping robes.

Maybe he should have been embarrassed by the sleeping robes, he thought distantly, but once your sister has seen you in boxers and a Sasuke shirt that is worn out enough that it just reads UKE, well, some things just blow out the scale. Maybe if he'd been naked, it would be something to freak out about, but as it was -

"Shizun is quiet," Binghe said. "Is everything -?"

"This master is fine, Binghe, do not concern yourself," Shen Qingqiu said. The night really was warming up. Then, unable to stop himself: "What have you been up to?"

Binghe paused for a moment, and then shook himself, as though he had had a particularly unpleasant thought. His hair cascaded down around his face. For a moment, his eyes gleamed red in the darkness.

Shit.

"Ah, don't strain yourself," Shen Qingqiu said.

Binghe blinked the red out of his eyes, and then sighed. "This disciple apologises."

"There is nothing to apologise for," Shen Qingqiu said.

"Mm." Binghe stopped, turning toward him fully. When he spoke again, his voice was thick. "Shizun, I-"

And then -

Oh no.

Binghe burst into tears.

Fuck!

Shen Qingqiu hurried over to pat his hair, to wipe at his cheeks. When he did, Binghe pulled him in by the waist and buried his face against Shen Qingqiu's shoulder. He was fully sobbing, body shaking in Shen Qingqiu's arms. It sounded like he was being stabbed.

No.

He had been stabbed, and it hadn't sounded like that .

"I know, I know, I know," Shen Qingqiu murmured, like saying it would make it true, and patted Binghe's head and shoulders desperately.

The dream was getting blurry at the edges. He blinked hard against it, and pulled Binghe's face up so that he could meet his eyes before he could wake up.

He really looked exactly like he had, the last time -

Binghe leaned forward and kissed him. It was just as bitey and desperate as -

Well. Well! What the hell, right? Didn't he have an obligation to Binghe? Even if he was just a dream manifestation - if you thought about it, refusing him would just make him even more upset, and Shen Qingqiu really couldn't bear it. He really couldn't bear to let him go.

He really couldn't -

-

When he woke up, he was in the bamboo house. The sun shafted in through the window like the edge of a knife.

Eventually, Binghe came to his door with breakfast. He must not have slept very well, either, because his eyes were looking kind of red.

Then again, what did Shen Qingqiu know. It might just have been the light.

-

Total B-Points: 2,067

-

AUTUMN

The red of the leaves stood out starkly against the misty white sky. Shen Qingqiu slid in through the gate, already regretting it.

The Qiu mansion had burned down decades ago, but the shell of it was still standing, blackened and rotting like a row of bad teeth.

Shen Qingqiu frowned at the whole deal from where he was standing at the entrance.

Obviously none of this shit was up to code. Usually it would probably be completely demolished and a different building would be raised in its place, probably with at least one ceremony to smooth down the process, but not here.

The locals avoided the place.

Probably because it gave off an aura that was super fucking cursed.

"Shizun," Binghe said, trailing in after him. "Are you sure about this?"

He was really not, actually, and that extended to bringing Binghe along. But he needed more B-points, and explicating character backstories was part of that. And making sure Binghe got to find out too had to be a bonus, right? Not that Shen Qingqiu wanted him to think that he had done the things that Shen Jiu had done, but Shen Jiu had done those things for a reason, and if he could get that through to Binghe, then -

Well -

Anyway, the points. Shen Qingqiu had briefly considered finding Qiu Haitang and setting up some kind of … arbitration?? that might settle things between them without a surprise trial and time spent in a Water Prison cell.

He'd discarded the idea immediately, obviously, primarily because it was fucking terrifying.

So. The Qiu Mansion.

Shen Qingqiu steadied himself internally.

"I'm sure," he lied, and strode across the courtyard.

-

The floorboards, where they hadn't collapsed, had warped, first under the heat and then under years of untreated exposure to the weather. When they walked across them, the wood groaned under their feet. The autumn fog had left it slippery, and there was a strange smell in the air - rotting wood and embers, both too old and too fresh at the same time.

And there was something wrong with the air, too. Like walking too close to a power line, but … heavier somehow.

Resentful energy. Right? Right??

Fuck. Okay. Hopefully any spirits that were still sticking around wouldn't be strong enough to fuck them up too badly.

It definitely didn't feel too strong, anyway. It was just present . An oily film on everything.

Disgusting.

"Shizun," Binghe said. "Why are we here?"

Shen Qingqiu glanced at him. Binghe's curls were starting to frizz slightly in the wet air. It had the effect of making him look a bit like a startled dog.

"What does Binghe think?" Shen Qingqiu asked.

Binghe pursed his lips and hmmed. "Resentful energy. But it doesn't seem…"

He trailed off. Shen Qingqiu raised an expectant eyebrow at him, and he turned a little pink.

"It's just different," he muttered into his collar, "from what I expected."

"Hmm." Shen Qingqiu crossed a threshold into what had been a hall, once. The ceiling was mostly intact, except for the far right corner of the room, which was covered in rotting debris. The walls, where they hadn't been wrecked by flame, were cracked and peeling. Everything was still. "Let me tell you a story."

"Yes, Shizun," Binghe replied, so quickly Shen Qingqiu barely had the time to finish his sentence. "This disciple will listen to anything Shizun has to say."

Shen Qingqiu rolled his eyes, his heart tight with fondness. He led Binghe out through a side door and into a hallway.

"Once upon a time," he said, "there was a child known as Shen Jiu."

The hallway was deathly still. The fire had burned hotter here, collapsing most of both the floor and the ceiling. The remaining floor beams stood out in straight lines, broken off at odd angles that had been smoothed over where the blackened wood had turned fully into coal. Shen Qingqiu picked his way across them, and Binghe followed after.

"Shen Jiu grew up on the street," Shen Qingqiu said, jumping from one beam to the next. It wasn't far enough down to the debris on the ground that falling would hurt, but having more than one thing going on made the story easier to tell. "One day, he saved some other street children, and caught the eye of a young master, Qiu Jianluo."

Binghe made a small sound of acknowledgement. Clearly his little white sheep was connecting the dots!

If only he could connect them without Shen Qingqiu having to say all this.

If only he could connect them without getting the wrong idea about who Shen Qingqiu had been.

But there was nothing for it. "Qiu Jianluo bought Shen Jiu and made him his servant. He robbed him of what little freedom he had and - and abused him mercilessly for years."

"Shizun," Binghe said behind him, like the word had been torn from his throat. Shen Qingqiu couldn't make himself turn around or answer. Binghe said nothing else.

They passed three rooms that had caved in so completely that looking inside was impossible, and a fourth that looked like it might have been some kind of storage room.

Shen Qingqiu cleared his throat. "Qiu Jianluo had a sister, too, and her name was Qiu Haitang. She was not cruel to Shen Jiu, and they were engaged to be married when they came of age -"

There was a loud tearing sound behind him.

Shen Qingqiu turned, Xiu Ya at the ready, but all he could see was -

Binghe, having fallen off a beam.

"Sorry, Shizun," he said, looking down at the roof tiles he was currently standing on. "This disciple got distracted and slipped."

Shen Qingqiu frowned down at him. "Are you hurt?"

"No, Shizun," Binghe said. He pulled himself up onto another beam. "Did - did Shen Jiu marry Qiu Haitang?"

Shen Qingqiu turned around again, now that it was clear that nothing had happened.

"No," he said. "When Shen Jiu was fifteen, he got into an argument with Qiu Jianluo. It escalated, and after years of heavy beatings -”

"He killed him,” Binghe said.

Shen Qingqiu couldn’t read his tone. It made his stomach hurt.

“It was self defense,” he murmured, as they reached the end of the hallway. It was even true, sort of.

At least at first.

At least in part.

Would Binghe be able to relate, if he had said it was also about revenge? Even with Shen Qingqiu’s - even with Shen Jiu’s death ending the abuse he’d suffered early? Even before the Abyss? And -

Shen Qingqiu stopped the thought before he could think it.

The door in front of them was badly charred, but it was still intact enough that he could slide it open. The room on the other side was a familiar office - the same one that Shen Jiu had stabbed Qiu Jianluo to death in, many decades ago. It was falling apart, just like everything else here, but not enough that it mattered. The floor was still stained black with splattered ink and dark with old blood. All the furniture was still mostly standing - the desk and the chair, the hangings on the wall, the shelves. It was like the flames hadn’t been able to touch it at all, stopping abruptly at the threshold of the room.

"Afterwards, he had to fight his way out," Shen Qingqiu said. The paperwork on the desk was unfinished and covered in dust. “He escaped and joined a cultivation sect. And once he had become a talented cultivator in his own right -” better to just get this over with “- Shen Jiu took the name of Shen Qingqiu and became the lord of Qing Jing Peak.”

The System chimed approvingly.

"You -" Binghe said, and then stopped. Shen Qingqiu sent him a thin-lipped smile.

Then, without any warning:

"you," said a voice behind him, guttural and scraping like a dying breath. "returning to the scene of the crime."

Shen Qingqiu turned around. The stain on the floor was the same, but in the middle of it was Qiu Jianluo.

He looked like he had when he died, in Shen Jiu's memories. The edge of his robe was splattered with ink. His torso was soaked with blood, so bright and vivid compared to every other colour in the room that it was shocking to look at. The injuries were somehow hidden behind the fabric, but Shen Qingqiu had seen them the first time around, in Shen Jiu's memories. It was like ground hamburger in there.

“imagine,” Qiu Jianluo said. His face was pale. His eyes were blank. His hands were red. Black strands of someone else’s hair were looped and twisted around his fingers, the inverse of a red string. “you could have had a good life here, if you had not been such an ungrateful, hateful, useless little beast.”

His mouth was smiling.

He seemed somehow to have too many teeth.

And even beyond that, there was something wrong about him. It was like the outline of his body kept twitching, snapping out of place and back again. Like a rubber band. Like a glitch. Like something that was never meant to exist.

What kind of creepypasta bullshit was this??

"you killed me," Qiu Jianluo said. His mouth did not move from his smile.

"Shen Jiu killed you," Shen Qingqiu acknowledged. He wished for his fan to hide his face behind. "He did it to save his own life."

"your life? that wretched thing had no value."

Shen Qingqiu opened his mouth to respond, but -

Binghe! Was! In front of him suddenly!

With his sword out!

Binghe, this master is not the one here who should be protected!

“How dare you say such things about Shizun?” Binghe yelled.

“Ah, Binghe…”

Qiu Jianluo didn’t look away from Shen Qingqiu. He took a step forward, and then another. “what was taken from me i will take from you.”

No thank you! The Shen you want is in another castle!

Anyway, there was no point in dragging this out! He was pretty sure he had managed to hit the parts that mattered for the B-Point total.

“Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu said, raising Xiu Ya. “Shall we banish this ghost together?”

-

Total B-Points: 3,429

-

WINTER

The eggplant was poorly cooked. Whoever had prepared it hadn't braised it for long enough, and the texture was just on the wrong side of spongy, the flavour just on the wrong side of bitter, acrid from poorly applied stasis talismans. The rest of the meal was fine, but the eggplant …

Luo Binghe sighed, picking up another piece and dragging it through the sauce. It wasn't as though he hadn't had worse. This meal wasn't molding or rotting, for one. It wasn't screaming at him, and didn't involve eating small creatures raw while barely managing to stay out of the acid rains of the Abyss.

However -

"If A-Luo keeps sighing so heavily, he'll blow out the candles," Ning Yingying said, smiling at him.

"Apologies, Ning-shijie," Luo Binghe muttered.

The inn was large and crowded, air thick with smoke and noise. The weather outside was foul, and every time a patron left or entered, the wind would gust inside, heavy with the promise of rain and snow, scattering across the floor like spilled beads. The older disciples of the Qing Jing and Xian Shu peaks sat pressed together around a long table in the corner by the fireplace. Shen Qingqiu and Qi Qingqi had a table of their own, and Luo Binghe had a perfect view of the way she was teasing him. It made the eggplant taste more bitter.

Shizun had been taking him on more joint missions lately, with other Qing Jing disciples as well as disciples from other peaks. Clearly Luo Binghe had disappointed him somehow.

Or maybe he had just seen too much, and Shizun was uncomfortable with him knowing. No wonder it had taken time to win his trust the first time around, with a childhood like that. The story he had told at the Qiu mansion had felt so …

Not familiar, of course. Qiu Jianluo had deserved what he got, and what Shizun had done, he did to make Luo Binghe better, but.

It was Shizun’s private life. Luo Binghe shouldn’t intrude on it too much.

"He's just upset he can't monopolize Shizun's time," Ming Fan said.

Luo Binghe smiled sweetly at him over the table. "Perhaps it would feel less like monopolizing if the other disciples were more worth Shizun's time."

"A-Luo," Ning Yingying snapped, but didn't continue. Instead, she shoved a spoonful of food into her mouth and chewed intensely.

"Are they close?" Liu Mingyan asked. Her eyes were tracking the way Shizun was smiling conspiratorially and leaning in toward Qi Qingqi.

Perhaps the food was rotting after all.

"She never comes to our peak," Luo Binghe muttered.

Liu Mingyan glanced at him, and then back at the peak lords. Her veil hid half of her expression, but the look in her eyes was focused and slightly far away, as though she was working on some complex puzzle.

"I see," she said, after a moment's contemplation. "How sad."

"Mm." Luo Binghe took another bite so no one could expect a longer answer.

"Huang Li said she heard Qi Qingqi sneaks him onto our peak once a month," another Xuan Shu disciple said conspiratorially. “She says they play weiqi."

Liu Mingyan turned towards her with a disconcerting light in her eyes, and began to interrogate her on the details. Ning Yingying and Ming Fan were both giving Luo Binghe matching looks of irritation.

This was all fine. None of it would matter soon enough, anyway, and Luo Binghe hadn't missed any of the other disciples in the remaining years. The coming years.

Besides, he was too busy appreciating the inn's rustic cuisine to care.

-

They had been called in to deal with a series of disappearances in Beilin Town, a town three days' travel on horseback from Cang Qiong. The descriptions made it sound as though it might be some manner of opportunistic monster, something slippery and hard to locate, but not too difficult for a decent cultivator to defeat once it had been found. Because of this, Shizun had put forth the argument to Yue Qingyuan that making it a joint excursion between Qing Jing Peak and Xian Shu, and Yue Qingyuan was always weak to Shizun’s wishes, so that was how it went.

Luo Binghe found it wasteful, spending so many resources on a simple problem. Shizun was constantly distracted, and the other disciples were so frustratingly young - the things they talked about were so shatteringly insignificant, so insipid, so -

“A-Luo,” Ning Yingying said, “are you listening to me?”

Luo Binghe shook himself and gave her a small smile. “Sorry, Ning-shijie, this one did not sleep much last night.”

This was true. The disciples had been divided into two rooms, and the owners of the place had brought up extra beds to fit them all. Luo Binghe did not mind cramped or uncomfortable sleeping arrangements, and the bed had been soft enough, but he wasn’t used to the crowding .

Ming Fan snoring into his ear all night had not helped, either.

Ning Yingying giggled. “Some people were pretty loud, weren’t they?”

Despite himself, Luo Binghe found himself smiling back at her. “At least the snoring is loud enough to deter any beasts.”

“And the food here is good,” Ning Yingying said. They were halfway out the door already, heading for the Lin estate, which belonged to the family that were in charge of the town.

“Mm,” Luo Binghe replied diplomatically. “I wonder what stasis talismans they use here.”

“Stasis talismans?”

“For summer crops to last through the winter,” Luo Binghe said, as they stepped out into the street, following the rest of the disciples and the two peak lords up front. Qi Qingqi was saying something to Shizun with a sly smirk on her face. Whatever it was, Shizun replied to it placidly, content to be speaking to her.

Luo Binghe looked away, frowning. Ning Yingying was still smiling at him, half a question and half expectant.

“What else does A-Luo know about stasis talismans, I wonder,” she said.

Luo Binghe sighed, but he told her: For smaller towns like this, it was not unusual for the mayor or lord to engage a wandering cultivator or a nearby sect to make stacks of paper talismans that could then either be handed out or sold to the locals. He’d heard of places that did away with the paper altogether, firing sigils directly into clay pots or burning them into wooden boxes.

“If they’re poorly done, it can add a slight acrid aftertaste to the -”

He cut himself off, because a deathly pale man in ostentatious robes was running toward them.

"Cultivators," the man cried, eyes wide and mouth trembling, "please come quick!"

"What's the matter?" Qi Qingqi asked.

The man swallowed convulsively. He looked as though he was fighting the urge to vomit. "We - we've found a body."

-

The body was lying by the riverbank behind the Lin estate, though there wasn't much left of it.

"It's Feng Yue," the man who had led them there said. He had hastily introduced himself as Lin Guoqiang, the Lin family's second son, on the way there. He didn't seem to know what to do with his hands; they fluttered around like unsettled birds. “The potter’s daughter. Sh-she went missing in early autumn.”

Most of her was still missing now. The body in front of them was cut off at the torso, which had been stripped down to the bone. Feng Yue’s long, dark hair was unadorned, and the lower half of it was wrapped delicately around her rib cage. The rest of it was stretched out behind her like a halo, standing out starkly against the snow.

Her face was intact, though, the skin still unblemished. The mouth was carefully stained a dark, coppery red with something that was too thick to be lipstick. Her eyelids had been pinned open, like butterfly wings; her sightless eyes were staring up at the painfully blue sky.

“Oh,” Ming Fan said weakly. When Luo Binghe glanced at him, he looked as though he might pass out. Next to him, Ning Yingying looked equally pale.

“This isn’t,” Shizun said, voice choked. His face was stricken.

“Isn’t what? ” Qi Qingqi snapped. Shizun glanced at her and then at the disciples.

“This is not the work of a monster,” he said.

“Senior Shen,” Lin Guoqiang said, “what do you mean?”

“This is too deliberate,” Shizun said. He frowned. It was a handsome look on him. Luo Binghe bit the inside of his cheek.

Qi Qingqi nodded. “For once we are of the same mind. We will go to the Lin estate, then, and proceed from there.”

“That seems best,” Shizun said, and then paused, mouth thinning in thought. “Although, for the sake of information gathering, the disciples should divide into groups. The first will guard the body until the town officials come, and take notes on the state of the body and the sce - the riverbank. Draw it, too, in as much detail as you can. Ming Fa - ah, no, Huang Li, you are in charge of that. Avoid walking around the body as much as possible, so that you do not accidentally cover any tracks. The rest of you, question the locals to find out if anyone has seen anything. We will meet at the estate before sunset -”

“I’m sure we can supply you with dinner,” Lin Guoqiang shot in with a wet, strained smile.

“Wonderful,” Qi Qingqi said, though she did not sound like she meant it. She turned to the disciples. “No one will go off alone until we can meet back up. Stick with your group, or there will be consequences , is that clear? Mingyan, you’re in charge of making sure everyone gets started.”

Liu Mingyan nodded sharply, and a wave of agreement swept through the group. Shizun and Qi Qingqi shared a glance and then left them all to it.

“I, uh, I suppose I will, also,” Lin Guoqiang said, “the guards are … and we will need to find a sheet for the, ah, for A-Yue…”

With that, he hurried off in the other direction, his face streaked with tears.

“A-Luo,” Ning Yingying murmured into Luo Binghe’s ear, as the rest of the disciples began to split up into teams, “did you notice?”

Luo Binghe shot her a questioning look.

"The body," Ning Yingying said. "Lin Guoqiang said she went missing in autumn, but it looked as though she died just now. That's strange, right?”

-

Their canvassing of the neighborhood turned up next to nothing. No-one had seen or heard anything, and they hadn't seen or heard anything when people had gone missing, either. Luo Binghe was anxious to return to Shizun again, to ask him what he thought about all of this, but instead he dutifully followed his group around. In a different world, he might have cajoled the villagers more or threatened them harder for information, but neither worked particularly well on a sixteen year old. He attempted to play at the innocent lamb instead, but Ning Yingying did it better, and it wasn’t as though it yielded much of use with her at the helm, either. People simply did not pay enough attention.

“A-Luo,” Ning Yingying said under her breath, as they left yet another house with nothing to show for it, beyond another confirmation of Feng Yue’s good character, and how much she was missed. “Please try to act invested in finding out what happened here.”

“This Binghe is invested,” Luo Binghe said.

“Then act like it,” Ning Yingying said. “Stop looking like going the rounds with us is beneath you.”

“I don’t, ” Luo Binghe began, too sharply, and then started over: “Sorry, shijie, that was not this Binghe’s intention.”

Ning Yingying gave him a long look.

“... Well, just keep it in mind,” she said mildly, but she no longer kept pace with him, falling back to walk next to Liu Mingyan and leaving Luo Binghe to walk with Ming Fan.

Truly the day held no end of horrors.

-

The master of the house, Lin Haoran, met them in the dining hall of the Lin estate. The room was large and well-lit, the furniture well-made, but not overly ostentatious.

Shizun and Qi Qingqi were not there. When pressed about it, he explained that after they had talked to him, the two had left to investigate further, but that they hadn’t mentioned where they were going. As no-one knew when to expect them, Lin Haoran bid them all to sit down and eat while they waited.

“This town is not large enough to insist on ceremony,” he said, smiling. His beard curled greasily from his chin. “Besides, this lord is sure you must all have worked hard today.”

With that, a servant brought out platters of meat and vegetables covered in dark, lustrous sauce. The fire-bright smell of ginger and garlic mixed with the heavier note of soy, the meatiness of the pork, the rice. Despite the sick, uneasy feeling that was steadily building in Luo Binghe’s gut, he could not help but be a little impressed.

They filled their bowls.

At the head of the table, Liu Mingyan and another Xian Shu disciple were giving Lin Haoran a brief description of what the disciples had found.

Luo Binghe watched the man's face - sympathetic, concerned, uncomfortable with the gorier details - as he brought a slice of pork to his mouth. The meat was well-cooked, with a good sear, and thinly sliced. The sauce was well-balanced, and did not overpower it. It tasted -

Acrid.

Next to him, Ning Yingying took a bite and froze, fingers tightening around the bowl. Her round eyes met Luo Binghe's.

Why slaughter pigs in advance just to store the meat for such an extended period of time that a stasis talisman would be necessary, if it added such a strong aftertaste to the final product?

Luo Binghe stood up. The room went silent.

"Don't eat the meat," Ning Yingying said.

"What's wrong?" Liu Mingyan asked. Luo Binghe could barely hear her.

The blood was rushing in his ears.

The blood was rushing in his ears.

The blood was rushing in his ears.

His hand was on Lin Haoran’s throat. The skin was warm under his fingers. His nails dug into the soft, wrinkled surface of it, the shorter hairs on the side of the old man's neck; the pulse beneath was rabbiting hard enough that Luo Binghe could see it jumping by his ear. It would have been easy, once, soon, to crush his windpipe. It would be harder now.

But it wouldn’t be hard.

Luo Binghe tightened his hand once, for emphasis, and then let go. It wouldn’t be hard, but it wouldn’t be useful, either.

Lin Haoran stumbled back, gasping. “What-?”

“Where is Shen Qingqiu and Qi Qingqi?” Luo Binghe asked.

“I don’t,” Lin Haoran said, rubbing at his throat, sweating. “I don’t know - they shared their suspicions, I responded to their questions, and they left to investigate further.”

“Elaborate.”

“W-well,” Lin Haoran said, “Senior Shen said this could not possibly be the work of a monster, and Senior Qi agreed. Their argument seemed sound, but I don’t believe I could offer any help with the matter of, ah, getting further down that line of inquiry. Th-this is a peaceful town, for the most part. People tend to get - to get along.”

Luo Binghe glared down at him. He felt as though he was under water; the memory of Xin Mo sat like a whisper in the back of his mind. “Did they say -?”

“Who is in charge of the kitchen?” Ning Yingying asked. Luo Binghe had not noticed her move, but now she was standing next to him, expression clear and earnest.

Lin Haoran stared up at her. “S-sorry?”

“There is something wrong with the meat,” Ning Yingying said. “Who is in charge of preparing it, and who procures it?”

Lin Haoran opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it again, swallowing. He blinked rapidly, eyes wet. “We - it’s unorthodox, but our Guoqiang has taken up most of the administrative work on that front.”

“Thank you,” Ning Yingying said, with a gentle smile. “And where is he now?”

Lin Haoran hesitated.

“Tell her,” Luo Binghe hissed.

Trembling, Lin Haoran looked up at him. Whatever it was he saw in his expression made him flinch. “H-he should be in -”

-

The office was empty, and seemed to have been for some time. On the low table in the middle of the room, a blank stack of papers had been messily set aside. The brush that rested beside them had been dipped in ink and left to dry; the ash in the little clay incense burner had gone cold.

“How messy is this guy,” Ming Fan complained, but there was a thread of something reedy and anxious in his voice. Luo Binghe would roll his eyes, but he was busy. His heartbeat was in his fingertips; his stomach burned with acid; the rage had receded and left him with a sick, choking worry that made it hard to stand still and harder to concentrate.

The man Luo Binghe had seen earlier had not looked capable of killing, but that meant nothing. If he was in charge of procuring the meat, of preparing it -

Perhaps Lin Guoqiang was the culprit, or perhaps he wasn’t. It did not matter which; even if he knew nothing of the true nature of the meat, he would be able to point them in the right direction. Someone would know something. They would be able to find Shizun.

"Luo-shidi," Liu Mingyan said. She was standing next to Ning Yingying. The two of them were staring at a spot on the wall.

"What is it?"

"You mentioned stasis talismans, A-Luo," Ning Yingying said. The wall was made up of thin panels of pale wood. Ning Yingying had pulled at a loose corner, revealing a slip of paper beneath. 

Luo Binghe came closer. The paper had been covered with lines of red ink. The characters looked vaguely familiar.

"I haven't seen a lot of them up close," he said, "but it looks like the ones I've seen."

Liu Mingyan peeled the panel back further, revealing more talismans, lined up so neatly that there were no gaps between them.

"I think they might be covering the entire wall," Ning Yingying said quietly.

"Why would he need so many of them?" Ming Fan asked, like he already knew the answer and would like to unlearn it.

There was a small indentation on the far side of the wall, crescent-shaped and at around waist-height. When Luo Binghe pushed his fingers into it, there was a small click - more a feeling than a sound - and a portion of the wall slid away easily when he pushed it. Inside was a narrow staircase, leading down into the dark. "Let's find out."

-

The rest of the disciples had either stayed behind in the dining room or gone to check out the situation in the kitchen, so it was just the four of them, cautiously descending into what turned out to be a large, dark room. They had brought lanterns, which illuminated the space a small distance around them, and caused shadows to shudder and jerk around them when they moved.

The room had a dirt floor, and rows of lockers stood close to the wood-paneled walls. The air had a strange, still quality to it. It smelled faintly of strong, clear liquor.

Perhaps that was the result of the talismans. They were placed out in the open here, plastered neatly across the paneled walls. There were matching symbols carved straight into the lockers, too.

There was no need to look inside them, though Liu Mingyan did anyway, walking briskly past Luo Binghe to throw one open.

The man inside looked as though he was sleeping standing up, seemingly unmarred by blood or injury. He looked to be in his late twenties, maybe, or early thirties, with an angular, serene face. His hair had been lovingly pulled back; the fabric of his single robe, funeral white, took on an almost turquoise cast in the shadows.

It was too much to look at. Luo Binghe stalked further into the room, keeping himself carefully in check. There was a pile of something in the far corner. Rags, perhaps, or the discarded clothes if the victims who were kept here. Or -

The pile shifted slightly. Even in the dark, Luo Binghe could make out the flash of skin.

"Shizun?" The word came out of his mouth without him meaning to, cracked and too quiet for his voice to carry. Without meaning to, he was running. The flame of the lantern bounced erratically across the walls as he went.

As he came closer, the pile resolved itself into two figures, curled up and bound by thin, red ropes.

Immortal binding cables.

It wasn’t that long since the last time he had seen them used on Shizun, but that had been different. Luo Binghe had already known how it would end, and Shizun had been awake. Now, he was lying almost completely still on the hard, uneven floor.

For a moment, Luo Binghe couldn't breathe. It was so quiet here already, but now the silence seemed to echo, sharp and suffocating. All at once he was back in Huayue City. He was holding Shizun’s limp body in the demon realm. He was watching Shizun fall at Maigu Ridge.

Then Shizun's arm twitched. He frowned, though his eyes stayed closed. Luo Binghe blinked hard against the sudden wetness in his eyes.

Next to Shizun, Qi Qingqi was shifting, attempting to sit up. She turned towards Luo Binghe, squinting.

“Luo-shizi,” she said. “How did you find us?”

“There was a hidden wall in Lin Guoqiang’s office,” Luo Binghe said. He sank to his knees next to Shizun and reached out to touch his shoulder. Shizun did not stir. Luo Binghe swallowed. “Is - will Shizun be alright?”

It was a stupid question. Just asking it made him feel unforgivably childish, but he couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t help it.

Qi Qingqi sighed through her nose.

“Don’t worry yourself,” she said. “Your shizun won’t go down so easily.”

“Shizun!” Ning Yingying and Ming Fan cried out, and then the other three disciples were there, too. Wordlessly, Liu Mingyan pulled out a dagger and began to cut the cables that held Qi Qingqi. Seeing it kicked Luo Binghe into action. As gently and carefully as he could, (especially with Ning Yingying and Ming Fan both crowding him,) he began to cut the cords that bound Shizun.

“Lin Guoqiang stopped us when we were on our way out of the estate and asked us to come to his office. He said he had something to discuss with us," Qi Qingqi said, voice dripping with disdain. “Once we were seated, he released some kind of powder into the room that immobilized us.”

"It worked pretty well, didn't it?" a voice spoke from the shadows by the exit. Slowly, Lin Guoqiang came out of the shadows.

Luo Binghe rose to his feet, unsheathing Zheng Yang. The other disciples rose with him.

"W-well, that's not necessary," Lin Guoqiang said. Then he pulled out a clay cylinder from his pocket and threw it.

It was a good throw. Luo Binghe had not expected him to have such good aim. The clay fractured, shattering across the floor and releasing a pale cloud of smoke. It filled Luo Binghe's mouth and nose, thick and powdery and smelling faintly of burnt hair.

"Don't breathe it in," Liu Mingyan said sharply, but it was too late.  Luo Binghe stumbled.

Everything was growing heavy and distant, as though his head was packed with wool. His legs began to tremble.

"Not this again," Qi Qingqi muttered, and then fell over.

Not long after, so did everyone else.

"Wonderful," Lin Guoqiang said under his breath, and then stepped forward. The smoke had not quite dissipated, perhaps because of the uncanny stillness of the air, falling instead like a fine powder all over the floor. "Pretty effective, isn't it? You may be wondering what this is all about."

It was pretty clear what this was all about, Luo Binghe thought, eyes locked on the bottom edge of Lin Guoqiang's robes as he came closer. Luo Binghe tried to get up, but his limbs would not obey him. His fingers twitched weakly in the dirt. If it weren't for his seal, this would not have been a problem, but as it was -

"You see," Lin Guoqiang said, enjoying his captive audience, "I have always had a hunger in me. And it took me so long, it took me - hah - so long, but in the end, I found a way to sate it."

As it was, there was nothing Luo Binghe could do but lie there, numb and dizzy, and listen.

"I was always so alone," Lin Guoqiang continued. "No one quite seemed to understand me. No one really wanted to listen , to stay. Not for me. I was too small, too weak, too 'invested in administrative minutia'. Well!"

He kicked Luo Binghe in the side for emphasis. It barely felt like anything, the whisper of a touch, and yet the force of it twisted Luo Binghe's body to the side.

"And then one day, my mother died," Lin Guoqiang said, "and she looked so peaceful when I talked to her, after. So ready to listen, in a way she never had in life."

Luo Binghe felt the phantom urge to vomit. His mouth was thick with spit, but he couldn't swallow. His fingers twitched against the dusty floor in front of him.

"I didn't want to lose that feeling," Lin Guoqiang said, rueful, a little self-deprecating. Luo Binghe wanted to rip his throat out. "But mother was given her rites, and what could I do but watch?"

He laughed, light and airy.

"What! Could I do! But plan?" He bent down to pat Ning Yingying gently on the head. "And it took me years, and a lot of careful finangling of town funds and resources, let me tell you."

Luo Binghe's fingers curled, with excruciating slowness, into a fist. He could barely feel it where his fingers touched his palm. There was a rushing in his ears, loud like a river, but it didn't drown anything out. Lin Guoqiang's voice remained crystal clear.

"And do you know what I realised, eventually?" Lin Guoqiang asked conspiratorially. "I realised that the best way to get close to someone - if you really want to keep them, and keep them close - the best way is really so simple: You have to eat them."

He stopped to pat Ming Fan on the head, carelessly.

"Getting a cultivator here was my idea, actually. Of course, I wasn't expecting that there would be so many of you!”

He stepped over the still form of Qi Qingqi.

“Really, it’s too much,” he said. He put a foot on Shizun’s shoulder and pushed him over. Then he leaned down to slide two fingers down the side of Shizun’s cheek. “This golden core business makes for a wonderful skin care routine, hmm? I really am curious about what will happen when I consume you."

How dare -?!

Luo Binghe bit his tongue; his mouth filled with blood, coppery and stinging. He was going to kill this man. He was going to do it slowly and painfully, with extreme prejudice. Perhaps lingchi, or perhaps he would simply tear the man apart with his bare hands -

"It's a bit of an experiment, you know?" Lin Guoqiang said, patting Shizun's cheek before moving on to Liu Mingyan, briefly lifting her veil. "You really are all beauties, aren't you?" he murmured. Luo Binghe could not make out anything but Liu Mingyan's eyes, bright with fury. Lin Guoqiang haphazardly dropped the fabric and continued: "A little culinary experiment."

Now he was moving back toward Luo Binghe again. He bent down and pulled Luo Binghe's face up with both hands, as though he was a vegetable at the market being inspected for imperfections; a lover being pulled in for a kiss. Lin Guoqiang's eyes were shining with gentle delight.

"What," he said, his breath ghosting against Luo Binghe's mouth. "does a cultivator taste like?"

No.

Slowly, painfully, Luo Binghe pulled his arm up from the floor. It shook; spots danced across his vision with the effort.

"You-" Lin Guoqiang began, mouth and eyes rounding, all delight lost.

Luo Binghe shoved a handful of dust into his face, clamping a hand over his nose and mouth.

There was no escape.

Lin Guoqiang's hands began to tremble, and then slipped from Luo Binghe's face. The man slumped to the floor.

It took another ke before Luo Binghe was able to move enough to get away from him, and another five for the other cultivators to get their bearings. Shizun still looked too pale and unsteady, but he only gave Luo Binghe a gentle smile when he asked him about it.

No one spoke as they tied Lin Guoqiang up.

Shizun nearly fell over as they went up the stairs.

-

Then everything happened quickly: There was a lot of shouting and general activity before Qi Qingqi, supplemented by Ning Yingying and Luo Binghe, could explain what had happened, and then Lin Guoqiang was taken away by the town guards. The disciples were all herded over to the inn while Shizun and Qi Qingqi stayed behind to deal with the metaphorical paperwork. They were served a meal and thanked profusely, even as the villagers kept exchanging uneasy glances and drinking and tearing up.

Luo Binghe kept watching the door. Every time it opened and the winter air gusted in, there was a kick-and-spark in his gut that forced his spine to straighten, his breath to catch, and every time it kept not being Shizun.

That was fine. The danger was dealt with, after all, and surely there must be enough to deal with between Cang Qiong and Beilin Town.

The food was better than their last dinner, probably. Luo Binghe found himself not really tasting it in either sense of the word, picking at pieces that all seemed as substantial as ashes in his mouth.

Eventually, he excused himself and went outside. It was getting dark, the blue of the shadows deepening across the snow. Some people were still out and walking (most of them to the inn), but for the most part, it was quiet. The snow creaked under his feet. It wasn't deep; if he scuffed at it, it would expose the yellowed grass beneath.

He stood there until it got too cold.

When he turned to go back inside, Ning Yingying was standing by the door.

“Ning-shijie,” he said.

“A-Luo,” she said, with a small smile. “Well done.”

"Shijie also did well," Luo Binghe said.

“Yeah,” Ning Yingying said. She took a deep breath and held it for a moment, cheeks puffing up. It made him think of her, the first time he met her. How she had felt like the sunlight promise of something better, beaming down at him in the dirt.

But she had been just a kid. Just like he’d been a kid.

And now she was -

Breathing out again, forcibly. In the cold, it turned into a plume of smoke.

“I just,” she said, and burst into tears.

“Um,” Luo Binghe said, panic spiking in his gut.

“Sorry,” Ning Yingying said, already wiping at her face as though she could undo it, even as her breath kept hitching.

Luo Binghe stared at her. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah!” Ning Yingying said. “I’m fine!”

“You don’t look fine,” Luo Binghe said.

“Well! Ignore it!” Ning Yingying rubbed her eyes furiously.

"If that's," Luo Binghe began, but Ning Yingying cut him off.

"I just ," she said, and then took another deep breath. "Never mind."

They stood there in silence for a while. The moon above them was a thin crescent, stretched out like a smile.

"A-Luo," Ning Yingying said. "Are we still friends?"

"Of course we are," Luo Binghe said, but it came out brittle and strange.

Ning Yingying looked at him for a moment. Her gaze felt heavy on him.

"I don't know what it is," she said, "but lately, I can't help but feel like A-Luo has grown apart from me."

He should reassure her. That was the best way to keep things on track, surely. He should just reassure her and tell her they were fine, but the words wouldn't come. Helplessly, he met her eyes.

"Like that," she said quietly. "I'm not stupid, A-Luo, and I'm not - we're not kids anymore."

But you are, Luo Binghe thought. You are just -

"I don't know if you think you're better than us, or if your thoughts are just too occupied by something else," Ning Yingying said. "But you are - you were my best friend, A-Luo, and then one day it was as though you didn't even care if I was there or not."

“That’s not true,” Luo Binghe muttered. 

"Isn't it?" Ning Yingying asked. 

Luo Binghe looked away.

Ning Yingying sighed. “I miss you.”

“Ning-shijie,” Luo Binghe said, and then had to stop. He didn’t know how to explain himself to her. He barely knew how to explain it to himself - the distance of the Abyss, of Huan Hua, the widening rift between him and the Ning Yingying of his future-past. Worse, the distance of time, contorted and bent back on itself. He might be in the body of a teenager, but it could not erase the things he had lived through. The things he had done.

It all stuck in his throat, now, lodged there like a rock.

He hadn't meant for her to feel it.

But he hadn't cared enough to notice that she did, either.

"I don't want you to feel that way," he said hesitantly.

"Then take responsibility," Ning Yingying said. Her face was clear and serious. 

And in the end, how could he refuse her?

“I will,” he said. “I will.”

She looked at him for a little longer. 

“Good,” she said, and then looked away, wiping at her face with her sleeve again. “Anyway, I wasn’t crying about that.”

“Of course, Ning-shijie,” Luo Binghe said.

“I was crying because of what we found in the basement.”

“Of course, Ning-shijie.”

“Also, I think you should hug me.”

So he did. It had been a long time, and he was taller than her than he had been the last time it had happened, but she still had the same warmth. She still smelled the same. Her hair loops kept brushing against his chin.

He found that some part of him had missed it.

“Ah, Binghe, Yingying,” Shizun’s voice called out behind him. Luo Binghe turned to ice. He let go and took a sharp step back.

"Ah, don't mind me," Shizun said, with a small smile. "I'm glad the two of you are getting along."

Then he breezed past them into the inn.

Luo Binghe stared after him until Ning Yingying poked him in the side.

"What?"

"You don't have to worry so much," she said. "He was with Qi Qingqi, after all, so she probably would have seen if there was something wrong with him, after … you know."

"Yeah," Luo Binghe said. He didn't trust Qi Qingqi as far as he could throw her on this. "I'm going to go see if he needs anything."

Ning Yingying rolled her eyes, but it didn't feel mean - more a kind of exasperated fondness.

"Well, Shizun will probably appreciate it," she said.

"Yeah," Luo Binghe said. He stopped with one hand on the door.

Make an effort.

"Ning-shijie, let's meet up and practice our forms when we get back."

Ning Yingying gave him another long look, like she could read every single one of his thoughts on his face. Then she smiled.

"Yeah," she said. "Yeah, I'd like that."

-

Shizun had already disappeared to his room when Luo Binghe came inside. Most of the other disciples had gone to bed, but three Xian Shu girls were still hunched together in a corner, quietly discussing something over their cups. They glanced up when Luo Binghe walked past, but didn't speak.

The second floor hallway was empty. There were whispers coming from one of the rooms the disciples had been put in, its door partially ajar. Luo Binghe passed it, moving quietly down to Shizun's room. Soundlessly, he slid the door open and slipped inside.

The room on the other side was dark, illuminated only by the light of the moon slipping in through the window. Shizun lay face-down on the bed by the far wall. His hair, unbound, fanned like a river, like the dark between stars; the moon reflected off strands of it, a gentle silver filigree. His outer robes were still on. He hadn't even taken his shoes off.

"Shizun," Luo Binghe said.

Shizun's head shot up at the sound. He squinted through the darkness.

"Binghe?" he asked, unsure, hand moving toward his sword, which was -

Still on him. Hm.

"This disciple only wanted to see if Shizun was alright," Luo Binghe said.

Shizun pushed himself up, wincing slightly. A few stray strands of hair had gotten stuck on the side of his mouth. In a swooping moment, Luo Binghe wanted to be those strands, to touch Shizun's mouth so casually, so intimately. His fingers twitched minutely at his side.

"This old master is fine," Shizun said. His breath was a little shallower than usual. When Luo Binghe stepped further into the room he could see the way sweat was beading at the side of his temples. Shizun had been the last to wake up from the powder; he had stumbled badly on the way up the stairs, which was unusual for him, and then he had stayed behind to discuss the situation with Lin Haoran and Qi Qingqi for hours. Luo Binghe worried at the inside of his cheek. Had Shizun had another outbreak of Without a Cure? Did the poison in his system amplify the effects of the powder and the cables?

Luo Binghe hated the thought, but looking at Shizun now, it didn’t seem too unlikely. It filled him with a desperate need to do something, to fix it, so -

"Shizun was knocked out and tied up with immortal binding cables," he said. He schooled his face into something appropriately wide-eyed and sweet. "Won't he let this disciple take a look at his meridians?"

Shizun gave him a long, considering look. It felt heavy, in some way Luo Binghe couldn’t quite quantify. As though Shizun was looking at him and seeing - not someone else , exactly.

But maybe something more.

As though he could see the shadow of the person Luo Binghe would become, the person he had been, looming behind his sixteen year old body.

Luo Binghe barely dared to breathe.

Finally, Shizun sighed. “It really isn’t necessary,” he said, though there was a streak of fondness in his tone, “but if Binghe insists.”

He reached out a hand, pulling up his sleeve to reveal a slender forearm. Luo Binghe nearly tripped over his own feet in his haste to reach him.

At Jinlan City, he had taken Shizun's wrist and held it, his grip made too tight by desperation and the blood rushing in his ears. In the Holy Mausoleum…

His hands had been larger, then. Now his fingers barely wrapped around Shizun's wrist.

And he was not about to make the same mistakes again. He didn't need to prove himself to Shizun right now, because whatever would happen to make Shizun cast him aside hadn’t happened yet.

Instead, Shizun was letting him do this, watching him with a serene expression.

Luo Binghe stroked his thumb down the thin skin of Shizun's upturned forearm once, the smooth expanse of it, the rivers of his veins.

Shizun's hands were cold. He had poor circulation, in the purely physical sense.

I can fix that, Luo Binghe thought. If he'd had control of his blood parasites, if he could make Shizun ingest his blood again - it would be a simple thing, to ease the flow of blood, to warm Shizun up from the inside.

Not now, though.

At least he could still check on Shizun's meridians. Luo Binghe closed his eyes and concentrated.

Shizun's qi was faint and stagnant, blocked off from its usual free-flowing course. Like this, Luo Binghe could feel the toxin that was clogging up his meridians, slick and viscous.

"Without a Cure," Luo Binghe said, unable to keep the reproach fully out of his voice.

"I'll sleep off the worst of it," Shizun said, refusing to meet his gaze, "and then Mu-shidi or Liu-shidi can assist in clearing it up once we get back to Qing Jing Peak."

Luo Binghe swallowed back the sour taste in his throat.

"Shizun," he said instead, "the journey back will take days."

"Don't concern yourself, Binghe, this old master is -"

"Disregarding his health," Luo Binghe cut in.

It came out wrong, at once too sharp and too smooth for the child he was supposed to be. Shizun blinked once, and then gave Luo Binghe a searching look.

"... Interpret it however you like," he said, a little stiffly.

"Yes, Shizun," Luo Binghe said. He intended to.

Shizun had picked up on it, too. His mouth thinned. "Not like that."

"Not like what, Shizun?" Luo Binghe asked sweetly. "Like Shizun is dealing with the effects of a debilitating illness and is resisting treatment?"

Shizun bristled.

"It really does not bother me," he said. "Binghe, it's hardly worth kicking up a fuss over."

"It would be more practical to let this disciple clear his meridians now," Luo Binghe said. "What if something happens on the way back?"

"Qi-shimei is more than capable of protecting you," Shizun said.

"Maybe," Luo Binghe said, as though that was what he had meant. "But clearing Shizun's meridians shouldn't take long, right? It won't be any trouble."

"I suppose Qi-shimei could -"

Luo Binghe held back the frustrated sigh and the vinegar, but he let the pout show.

"Shizun," he said, widening his eyes, "don't you trust me?"

Shizun didn't respond. He didn't speak for what felt like a very long time. Every moment felt like the twist of a screw being tightened.

Of course Shizun would not answer him.

He never would.

Not this question, still and already.

Of course Shizun did not truly trust him, and why should he? Luo Binghe had broken his trust many times over in the future. He was breaking Shizun's trust right now, by not telling him about Meng Mo and his own demonic ancestry, and he would not do it differently if he could, because the thought of losing this -

Even if Shizun did not fully trust him, sitting stiffly in bed and refusing the help he clearly needed because he did not want Luo Binghe to be the one to do it; even if Shizun didn't know, even if Shizun had travelled back with him and knew it all already -

He really couldn't stand it.

"Fine, fine," Shizun said, cutting through his thoughts. "Does Binghe need me to explain how to do it?"

Luo Binghe didn't, but he made Shizun explain it anyway. His voice was calm and methodical, as though he was discussing some neutral mechanism and not the inside structures of his own precious body. It was soothing anyway, listening to him talk.

Clearing his meridians was not hard. Luo Binghe gently pushed his qi through them, keeping it steady, holding Shizun's wrist through it.

"How is Ning Yingying?" Shizun asked. His tone was hard to read, as it often was.

Luo Binghe paused, considering it. 

"Ning-shijie is fine, Shizun."

Shizun gave him a searching look. "Is she?"

"The situation upset her, Shizun." And I did, too, he didn't add.

"And Liu Mingyan?"

Why was he asking about these women?

"I've barely spoken to her," Luo Binghe said curtly, "but she seems unfazed."

Shizun hmmed and nodded thoughtfully, and then didn't say anything else, distracted.

Luo Binghe was developing ulcers by the moment. He was going to vomit - not blood, but vinegar.

"I'm doing fine, by the way," he muttered. "If you care."

But that was too rude, wasn't it? Surely -?

Shizun patted his head with his free hand.

"Of course I care," he said. His eyes were bright in the moonlight. "And of course you are. You're Luo Binghe."

He said it like it meant something. Luo Binghe bit his tongue to keep from saying anything embarrassing.

"And you did so well today," Shizun murmured. "There at the end - you did so well.”

-

Total B-Points: 4,786

-

Chapter Text

SPRING

They were running out of time.

Shen Qingqiu was usually a pretty easy-going guy, but even he had to admit (in the privacy of his own mind) that it was starting to get a little stressful. He kept waking up in a cold sweat and compulsively checking his B-points, like maybe the tally would have gone up during the night.

It had, a couple of times, but that tended to coincide with his dreams about the other Binghe - not the other other Binghe, but his other Binghe, the one from the first time around. And they weren't frequent, and he wasn't about to dwell on them, so.

No point! There was no point in that at all!

Anyway, it was fine. He had things under control. He'd written out the plan with Shang Qinghua, and they were following it.

Sure, some of it was based on information that had never made it into the published version of Proud Immortal Demon Way, and Shang Qinghua's memory of it was abysmal. And some of it was based on things that would happen later in the timeline, or their shared conjectures.

So it wasn't exactly like knocking down dominoes. Most of these dominoes wouldn’t even be set up for years.

But it didn't matter! They would be fine!

Admittedly this trip was a bit of a long shot, but Shen Qingqiu had already shown Binghe how to identify every plant he could remember that wasn't papapa-related, and they had gone on enough minor quests to deal with beasts and … other local disputes to write at least a hundred spin-off chapters about by this point. They needed something a bit meatier - something like the Qiu mansion again. Some kind of significant side character or main plot event!

He could have had a deep and emotional chat with Yue Qingyuan about his shared past with Shen Jiu, of course -

But as if! Shen Qingqiu would rather throw himself into an active volcano.

Besides, he only had so many tragic character details to vaguely throw around! He wasn't made out of backstory!

So! Now they were wandering around the base of Bailu Mountain, in the area Shang Qinghua had roughly circled on the map as "I don't know, dude, I guess maybe this is one of the areas where Zhuzhi-lang can get through?"

And like, it wasn't ideal. Obviously! It was, in fact, a pretty fucking long shot!

But if they could get in a hint to Binghe's backstory early, that would have to be worth some points, right? And if they could just find Zhuzhi-lang…

So they were walking through the tall, green grasses and brushing past weeds and low bushes, getting the heads of Purple Heartsick Thistles stuck to the hems of their robes.

Despite the name, the thistles did not encourage papapa or convince people to languish in love or any other bullshit Airplane thing. The heartsick was because they clung to whatever touched them like a jealous lover.

And, fine, also because, if you prepared them right and steeped them in clear water at precisely the right temperature, they did encourage papapa.

But they were harmless in the wild!

So it didn't matter!

Anyway, they had been wandering around for hours now and not seen even a single small snake, which was frustrating. Before Shen Qingqiu could suggest that they get on their swords and fly a little further, however, what looked like a small, portable pavilion came into view. Its insides were hidden by gauzy, green curtains.

Binghe went still next to him, so he'd clearly spotted it, too.

A group of young ladies were picking thistles into wide, flat baskets. As Shen Qingqiu and Binghe came closer, they could hear them singing, their voices soft and clear like bells.

Wasn't this … a little familiar?

He had barely finished the thought when one of the curtains of the pavilion shifted, revealing a willowy woman dressed in rich purple.

Ah.

"Shizun," Binghe said quietly, "who is she?"

And.

Well.

It was Madam Meiyin.

-

"How tangled," she said, when they were close enough. "It is as though we've met before."

"Not to my knowledge," Shen Qingqiu said. It was technically true - not yet , anyway.

"Well!" said Madam Meiyin, and introduced herself.

Shen Qingqiu introduced himself and Binghe in turn, and then followed it up, glancing at Madam Meiyin's girls, who were still working: "The thistles are abundant here."

Madam Meiyin looked over at them as well, and smiled. "They say the Purple Heartsick Thistle grows especially well at the foot of Bailu Mountain."

"Do they?" Shen Qingqiu asked. He hadn't heard anyone say that, but it was pretty interesting if it was true - perhaps the prolonged presence of a heavenly demon could be altering the composition of the soil?

Well, probably not, but -

"You know, your human sects had a heavenly demon buried under this mountain," Madam Meiyin said conversationally. "They say he was betrayed by his lover."

Was he right??

"I see," he said, as neutrally as he could.

"Strong heartbreak," Madam Meiyin said. Her eyes turned a little sombre, but the smile still stayed on her face. "The deeper it is, the longer lasting, the better. That is what the Purple Heartsick Thistle thrives on."

Shen Qingqiu didn't know what to say to that. This had to count as a minor backstory reveal, right?

But also -

But also , he couldn't help but think about -

About Binghe, in that five year span when he'd been having his little dirt nap; Binghe alone with his dead body -

Had there been thistles growing in Binghe’s demon palace? At Huan Hua?

"It's an unfortunate thing," Madam Meiyin said, "but the side effects, at least, are beneficial for our business."

From there, the conversation moved to lighter topics, though it did not last long. In the end, Shen Qingqiu traded a few of jars of pulped Furred Grasping Vine root (good for a variety of rashes if applied topically) for the promise that Madam Meiyin would send word if her group spotted any snakes.

"Master Shen," Madam Meiyin said, as they turned to leave. She glanced between Shen Qingqiu and Binghe, gaze heavy and obvious and horribly meaningful . "When you have something good, hold onto it."

Shen Qingqiu was going to die on the spot.

"Of course," he said serenely. "And Madam Meiyin as well."

Then he got the hell out of there. Binghe followed close behind.

-

Total B-Points: 5,834

-

SUMMER

The less said about Huan Hua Palace, the better.

-

They went there when summer was at its hottest, on an errand for Yue Qingyuan that ostensibly could have been delivered by courier. Luo Binghe would be happy to never see the place again - the place where Shizun suffered in an acid-moated cell, the place that is still run by the Old Palace Master, who still has all his limbs intact, the place that is almost the place he had taken over, the place that is not Qing Jing Peak with its Bamboo House - but Shizun seemed to feel that it was necessary.

The closer they got, the more on edge he seemed. His muscles seemed perpetually on the verge of tensing, eyes scanning the perimeter. It lended him a fleeting sharpness other people might write poems about, a notched arrow sort of beauty that was only dimmed by the anxiety he must be feeling, to be moving like he was.

It would put Luo Binghe on edge, too, if the situation as a whole hadn't already put him there.

"Binghe," Shizun said, and then stopped. His face was impassive, revealing nothing. It was swelteringly hot, but a mild breeze picked up around them, rustling through the grass and the hems of Shizun's sleeves.

"Yes, Shizun?" Luo Binghe prompted, when no more words seemed to be forthcoming.

"This meeting should be no trouble," Shizun said, with a slight frown, "but if anything were to happen that makes Binghe uneasy, he is to tell this master at once. Do you understand?"

There was nothing about the situation that warranted this amount of concern, unless there was something Shizun wasn't telling him.

"Yes, Shizun," Luo Binghe said. After a moment's hesitation, he forged ahead: "Is there any particular reason to be concerned?"

Shizun gave him a considering look, weighing his words. "The leader of Huan Hua is … not as good of a man as he pretends to be. It should not be an issue, but do not let your guard down around him."

"Understood, Shizun," Luo Binghe said, though the warning was unnecessary.

It was, after all, nothing he did not already know.

-

When they met the Old Palace Master again, for the first time -

The less said about it, the better.

-

"You look just like her," he had said, the words slipping from his mouth like porcelain, smoothly accidental.

Luo Binghe had schooled his face into something sweet and innocent and unassuming, and recalled how it had felt to relieve the man of his limbs.

"Of whom?" he had asked.

The Old Palace Master had smiled enigmatically and said, "just an earlier disciple of mine. You have that same youthful glow."

It was as though Xin Mo was still beside him, in his hand. It was as though he had swallowed it, the flames of its raging, poisonous energy licking at the insides of his throat.

They left quickly after that.

-

Afterwards, Shizun kept apologizing, even if nothing had really happened.

"I'm fine, Shizun," Luo Binghe said, but it did not stop him.

Instead, when he looked at Luo Binghe, his eyes softened and his jaw tightened all at once.

"You will be," he said, and then again, with a quiet intensity that struck Luo Binghe all the way down to the bone:  "You will."

-

Total B-Points: 6,191

-

AUTUMN

Yue Qingyuan was in the Bamboo House.

He often came to check on Shizun, of course, but the visits were usually short and fairly perfunctory. Every so often, Shizun would visit Yue Qingyuan’s peak out of obligation, but those visits rarely lasted long, either.

Today was different.

When Yue Qingyuan arrived, Shizun had invited him inside and sent Luo Binghe away on a trivial but time consuming errand. As Luo Binghe reluctantly left, Shizun had begun to make tea .

Luo Binghe did not like it.

He hurried through the task and then returned early, sneaking back to hide under an open window.

Shizun and Yue Qingyuan were talking quietly. Luo Binghe held his breath as carefully as he could.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Shizun asked. There was a thread of emotion in his voice, too gentle to be frustration, but not far away from it, either.

Yue Qingyuan laughed without much humour. "Would you have listened if I had? Would it have mattered?"

There was a pause: a cup was lifted and then carefully set down again.

"Maybe not at first," Shizun allowed. "But I needed to hear it."

There was another silence, this one longer, drawn out.

"It mattered," Shizun said, softer. "It mattered that you tried."

"Xiao Jiu," Yue Qingyuan said, a little wetly, and the name made Luo Binghe go rigid with recognition. "I really -"

"I don't know if it would have changed anything," Shizun said. "I like to believe it might have."

This time, it was Yue Qingyuan who lifted his cup; when he set it down, it made a heavier sound against the table.

He was silent for a beat longer, and then sighed. "But not anymore, I take it."

"Not anymore," Shizun agreed. "This Qingqiu apologizes. He can no longer be the person shixiong wants him to be."

"Shidi," Yue Qingyuan said, "all I ever wanted you to be was happy."

-

Luo Binghe did not dare visit Shizun's dreams too often. It always felt risky - as though Shizun might realize and throw him out; as though he was going to ruin it somehow; as though he had already ruined it, and the damage, once uncovered, could never be undone. As though Luo Binghe was a woodshed, stacked with cut timber and forgotten, left to rot; as though once that first dark stain of destruction was found, it would be obvious that there could be no end to it. He was a thing that was eating itself, always.

But sometimes he couldn't help himself.

Now he was sitting in the Bamboo House where Yue Qingyuan had sat before, once again in his adult body. Shizun was pouring him a cup of tea, but the water had a strange, pink glow to it. As it flowed, tiny shooting stars sparked from the places where the flow was uneven.

Luo Binghe watched him pour for both of them. He watched him put the pot carefully back down on the table.

He sometimes found it hard to know what to say to him, when he intruded on his dreams like this.

"Binghe," said Shizun, and smiled. Like all of Shizun's smiles, it struck him like a mortal blow.

"Shizun," Luo Binghe said. The tea in front of him was fizzing slightly. He wasn't sure it would be safe to drink. "How was your day?"

Shizun's smile turned melancholy.

"Unraveling some old regrets," he said, and took a long drink from his cup. The light reflected off the liquid, making his forehead glow pink for a moment. "They should be dealt with now."

"And were they," Luo Binghe began, but found himself strangely tongue-tied.

"You know, Binghe," Shizun said, like he was sharing a secret. His cheeks were a little flushed; Luo Binghe could barely look away from them, those two bright spots of colour. "I have missed you very much."

What did Yue Qingyuan wait so long to tell you? Luo Binghe wanted to ask. What changed between you? Is the System -

Instead, he could only watch silently as Shizun rose to his feet. His robes unfurled around him; the white and pale green silk seemed to go on and on without end; as Shizun moved around the table, it trailed after him like a river. His hair was loose, suddenly, barely gathered behind his shoulders.

He stopped in front of Luo Binghe and stared down at him, his dark eyes shadowed by the sweep of his eyelashes.

Luo Binghe's breath caught in his throat like a key in a lock.

Then Shizun collapsed on top of him, his arms around Luo Binghe's neck, his face so close their mouths were almost touching; when Shizun exhaled, pink clouds rose from his mouth; the entire world

tilted

sideways;

then

Shizun's bed, and Shizun, too, delirious under Luo Binghe's hands, the layers of his robes slipping away and open as though they had a mind of their own, leaving so much bare skin that Luo Binghe felt dizzy with it; the air was pink and sticky with shooting stars, and Shizun was saying please , but he wouldn't say what he was asking for, and

Luo Binghe woke up.

It was still dark, but the sun would rise soon enough. He was back in his new-old body, his heart hammering hard enough that he could taste blood.

Unsteadily, he tucked his robes around himself and went to sit in the pond outside.

-

Total B-Points: 7,449

-

WINTER

The Luo River cut through the frozen landscape like a snake, the water so dark it was almost the colour of lead. Shen Qingqiu was leading Luo Binghe and Zhao Hua Temple Sect Master Wu Chen up the path that meandered next to it. The ground crunched under their feet as they walked. No-one was really speaking.

Okay, so this was another long shot!

Because of the System, and because it was privileged top secret plot information that Shen Qingqiu had no way of knowing if he hadn't been doing everything twice - which the System still stubbornly refused to acknowledge, and threatened to glitch out over whenever Shen Qingqiu even alluded to it -

Anyway , because of all that, he had to get creative about getting certain information out. He had to , because the Immortal Alliance Conference was coming up, and he was still missing some crucial B-Points.

And sending Binghe into the Abyss was not! An option!!

Zhuzhi-Lang still hadn't made an appearance, or if he had, Shen Qingqiu had been unable to find him. And the Old Palace Master was not an option; Shen Qingqiu regretted even trying it in the first place.

At least the conversation with Yue Qingyuan had gone well.

Disconcertingly well.

It was a bit easier to be around him, too, now that the air was - okay, maybe not entirely clear, but clear er . The room felt a bit less choked by the lingering ghost of Shen Jiu, of the things that had gone wrong between them.

He almost felt bad that it had taken him so long to push the issue.

And now -

Look, he was running out of people who knew about Binghe's parents, okay!

Master Wu Chen probably wouldn't want to say anything about his meeting with Su Xiyan unless pushed, but maybe if Shen Qingqiu could just kind of … put him in a similar place … with Binghe, who resembled her so strongly…

Well, so far it wasn’t really working. Shang Qinghua had helped spread some rumours (“I’ll just let people know the place has bad vibes, bro”) that Master Wu Chen had kindly agreed to help check out, but there was a bit of a jump from that to sharing secrets to near-strangers.

They stopped by a small copse of trees near the riverbank. The sun was setting, and the lengthening shadows made the leafless branches look like skeletal fingers reaching out to grab them.

Creepy.

The place was fine, of course, because there was nothing actually there, but they still made up a small camp. Shen Qingqiu felt bad about that - it wasn’t like Wu Chen was a young man by any measure, and even if their tent had been plastered with warming talismans, was it really okay to make an old man go camping like this?

Binghe tended the fire and cooked them a meal while Shen Qingqiu and Wu Chen walked the perimeter.

They did talk a bit, now, but they kept mostly to pleasantries and discussions about the area. No matter how hard Shen Qingqiu tried to inch it toward something personal, Wu Chen did not seem to want to follow.

This wasn’t going to be enough, was it? He was going to have to push this.

Shen Qingqiu hid his face behind his fan.

“Master Wu,” he said, “does this master’s disciple remind you of anyone?”

Master Wu Chen looked back toward the campfire, where Binghe was stirring a pot of something that would definitely be more delicious than it had any right to be.

“He does,” Master Wu Chen said.

“We went to Huan Hua Palace earlier this year,” Shen Qingqiu said delicately. “The Old Palace Master mentioned that Luo Binghe resembled an old disciple?”

Master Wu Chen’s jaw tightened for a moment, and then released.

“Her name was Su Xiyan,” he said. “She was Huan Hua’s first disciple, but she passed away seventeen years ago this winter.”

Shen Qingqiu watched him carefully, but Master Wu Chen did not elaborate. With a sharp flick of his wrist, Shen Qingqiu snapped his fan shut.

“If you know anything more, Master Wu,” he said. It came out too earnestly; he felt suddenly horribly exposed, scraped raw. “He needs to know.”

Master Wu Chen met his eyes.

“Some things are better left unsaid,” he said. “Once they are spoken, they cannot be taken back. It is better to let it lie, for Luo Binghe’s sake, as well as Benefactor Su’s.”

Behind his back, Shen Qingqiu tapped his fingers against his fan guard.

It made sense that Master Wu Chen was keeping things back - it was impossible to tell this story without exposing Binghe as half-demon. But Shen Qingqiu already knew - and so did Binghe, at this point.

So there was no real harm, even if Master Wu Chen had no way of knowing it. In fact -

Hang on! Could Master Wu Chen be trusted not to act on the knowledge that there was a half-heavenly demon running around? The situation had been very different the first time around, but hadn’t Shen Qingqiu just exposed Binghe’s secret?

He felt as though his lungs had inverted themselves.

“Master Wu,” he said, barely keeping the panicked wheeze out of his voice. “What do you mean?”

“Only that there is nothing to be gained from unearthing these things,” Master Wu Chen said serenely.

Shen Qingqiu considered it. Master Wu Chen probably wouldn’t use it against them, right? Every time they’d met the first time around, he’d had a good, measured approach to things, and even if he didn’t know Shen Qingqiu yet, it was unlikely that he had changed that much as a person, right? Which was good, because Shen Qingqiu didn’t know if he could actually kill a man in cold blood.

“This master will always do his best to protect his disciple,” he said. “Whatever Luo Binghe’s parentage is, it does not define him.”

Master Wu Chen nodded sagely, as though an understanding had been reached.

Hang on, old man, we’re not done here!!

“But he needs to know,” Shen Qingqiu said. “Sooner or later I have no doubt that whatever it is, it will come out -” (in fact he knew it a little too well) “- but it would be better for him to find out now, when he is with someone he -”

He didn’t have a thick enough face to finish the sentence. He pulled up his fan again and hid behind it like a coward.

Master Wu Chen regarded him for what felt like the whole of time.

“... Master Shen makes a good point,” he finally said. “This one will oblige him.”

For a moment, Shen Qingqiu thought his knees might give out.

When he remained standing, he thanked Wu Chen profusely instead.

They went back to the campfire and sat down, and Binghe served them steaming hot food in their wooden bowls. Once they had eaten, Wu Chen told them about Su Xiyan for the second and first time.

-

The B-points rolled in, but Binghe seemed as untouched by Master Wu Chen's words as he had last time, beyond a few nervous glances at Shen Qingqiu. After all, even if your parents loved each other and had suffered horribly for it, that didn’t mean they loved you . And even without Xin Mo whispering poison in his ear, Binghe was still -

Well, of course it was hard for him to believe that Su Xiyan might have loved him, when he’d spent so much of his life feeling left behind and abandoned! Who could blame him! He was probably worried that Shen Qingqiu would leave him next, after this revelation!

But he didn’t say much. Instead he smiled blandly and went to clean their bowls.

Master Wu Chen went to bed. Shen Qingqiu remained sitting by the fire.

It felt wrong, forcing these big plot-related revelations on Binghe when they didn’t matter to him. It was just so much like following a game guide, like putting coins into the slot until a prize came out.

Not exactly like trying to be genre savvy, but not exactly not like it, either.

Even if it was necessary.

And it was . So.

After the Immortal Alliance Conference was over, he would take Binghe with him somewhere nice. Maybe Shang Qinghua would be able to point them in the direction of whatever cursed Proud Immortal Demon Way experience was the most like Universal Studios.

For now, though …

“System,” he said quietly. “I want to retrieve the fake jade guanyin.”

[ Item is already in your inventory. However, please note: This item is single-use and can consume a maximum of five thousand of Luo Binghe’s anger points. It is inadvisable to use the item at this time, as POINT TYPE: ANGER is currently not enabled. ]

“That’s fine,” Shen Qingqiu said.

[ Valued user, are you sure? ]

“I am, I am, come on.”

[ Friendly reminder: There may come a time when mitigating Luo Binghe’s anger will be necessary. ]

“Fuck off,” Shen Qingqiu said, and pulled out the fake jade guanyin.

[ ( ; ω ; ) ]

Shen Qingqiu x-ed out of the System window without a second thought.

Then he called out: “Binghe, come here.”

Binghe emerged from the shadows like he’d been waiting. “Yes, Shizun?”

“Sit with me,” Shen Qingqiu said.

Binghe did. Sitting there next to him, his white sheep looked more like a wet dog, small and more miserable than he had while Master Wu Chen was still awake.

“What is it, Shizun?” he asked. Shen Qingqiu patted his head on instinct. This child! He just looked too sad!

“It’s nothing bad,” Shen Qingqiu said. “Is Binghe all right?”

Binghe looked away, biting his lip. “... This disciple is fine, Shizun.”

“Well,” Shen Qingqiu said, “this master just wanted to say that this doesn’t change anything.”

The words hung awkwardly in the air.

Then Binghe said, in a voice that was flatter and older: “How can you say that?”

Maybe there were no anger points in play yet, but that definitely didn’t mean he couldn’t get angry!

“How can you still look at me the same?” Binghe said. There were tears in his eyes. “I’m part Heavenly Demon! How can I still - I -”

In desperation, Shen Qingqiu pulled him in close and hugged him. Binghe was crying in earnest, now, sobbing against Shen Qingqiu’s chest.

“This master sees you,” Shen Qingqiu said, once he’d calmed down a little. “Binghe is still Binghe.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Binghe muttered. His hands twisted desperately against Shen Qingqiu’s back. “You’ll leave me, or you’ll send me away. That’s how this goes.”

Did Binghe really trust him so little already?

“Don’t be silly,” Shen Qingqiu said, uneasy.

Binghe sniffled pathetically into his shoulder. Shen Qingqiu patted his head some more.

“Anyway, I wanted to give you something,” he said.

Binghe shuffled back a little so he could see Shen Qingqiu’s face, but he stayed close.

Shen Qingqiu took a steadying breath, and then pulled the red thread of the guanyin over Binghe’s head.

Binghe blinked down at the pendant as though he didn’t understand what he was saying.

“I,” he said, and then looked up, eyes wide. “I thought I’d lost this. Shizun - has Shizun kept it with him this whole time?”

Shen Qingqiu winced. “I’m sorry for not giving it back to you earlier.”

“No, I,” Binghe said, blinking rapidly again, “no. Th. Thank you.”

“Hold on to it from now on,” Shen Qingqiu said gently. “Take care of it, and - and take care of yourself like you take care of it, too.”

Binghe went very still.

“You’re sending me away,” he said, in a tiny voice.

That’s not it!!

“This master won’t leave you,” Shen Qingqiu said, because the alternative was to start ranting, Peerless Cucumber-style, and he didn’t have the face for that. He barely had the face for this , but the alternative was - it was not acceptable!!  “And I would sooner die than send you away. You have my word on that.”

“How can you say that,” Binghe muttered. The sulky cast of his face would be adorable if it wasn’t so horrifically serious. “Everyone leaves me eventually. No-one cares enough to stay - no-one ever chooses me. You won’t, either. Will you, Shizun?”

He fixed Shen Qingqiu with a glacial look.

It was heartbreaking! Fuck this shit!

“How can you say that no-one cares?” Shen Qingqiu asked. He put his hands firmly on Binghe’s shoulders. “Weren’t you listening? Su Xiyan gave her life to keep you safe because she loved you. The washerwoman who raised you bought that guanyin with her hard-earned money for you because she loved you. I -”

Died for you.

I would die for you again.

The words didn’t come.

“I want to see you grow up strong and healthy,” he said instead. “I want you to be happy.”

The ice in Binghe’s eyes had melted again; now he was back to barely holding back tears, wiping at his eyes.

“Don’t say that no-one will choose you,” Shen Qingqiu said. “They chose you because they loved you. This master has already told you that he will choose you too. Please believe that.”

“... This disciple will try,” Binghe said, very quietly.

Shen Qingqiu supposed it would have to do for now. They sat there together in silence for a while, watching the flames of the campfire slowly die out. When there was nothing left but embers, Shen Qingqiu cleared his throat.

“Once upon a time,” he said, feeling strange and reckless in the cold dark, “there was a child known as Shen Yuan.”

He could feel Binghe watching him, even if he couldn’t look directly at him.

“Shen Yuan was the third son of a rich merchant, and he wanted for nothing,” Shen Qingqiu said, forging ahead. “But even so, his life was hollow. To combat the emptiness, he filled his head with stories about great heroes who fought great battles and conquered strange worlds. Out of all of them, there was one story that crept into his heart. It -”

[ Warning! Valued user is advised to stop talking, as your current line of action threatens to expose the nature of the CORE NARRATIVE. Continuing risks the internal stability of this world, and may lead to catastrophic error and loss of B-Points. ]

Shen Qingqiu swallowed convulsively. “Fine.”

[ Thanking user for your understanding. ]

Shen Qingqiu shut the window.

“It’s getting late,” he said to Binghe. “No need to force a young man to listen to this old master’s aimless ramblings.”

Binghe opened his mouth to protest, but Shen Qingqiu shooed him to the tent.

He waited until Binghe had disappeared behind the flap, and then viciously kicked dirt into the campfire. It was important to choke out the last of the embers. They wouldn’t want to accidentally set anything ablaze.

-

And then - 

-

Total B-Points: 9,034

-

SPRING AGAIN

They were out of time.

-

Total B-Points: 9,995

-

Chapter Text

The Immortal Alliance Conference, at the end of everything.

The air swirled with demonic energy; the ground was still partially frosted over where Mobei-Jun had stood.

Binghe's seal was broken. The red glow of his[huadian sapped all the colour from his skin, reflecting off every bloody, bleeding scrape on him.

Somehow it was worse the second time around.

He looked so small.

Worse - he lookedscared, staring up at Shen Qingqiu with large eyes and an upset twist to his mouth. Like he was already sure Shen Qingqiu would betray him.

Like he already knew how this would end.

The System chimed shrilly in Shen Qingqiu’s head. Across from him, Binghe flinched.

[ Warning! The critical quest “The Endless Abyss and Endless Hatred, a Sky Filled with Crystal Frost and Tears of Blood” has officially begun! If it is not successfully completed, twenty thousand protagonist satisfaction points will be deducted! ]

That was -

What kind of childish bullshit move was that!

He had forgotten. The System had done this the first time around, too, and he had forgotten, how the fuck could he just forget?

Shen Qingqiu blinked the sweat out of his eyes.

Well. Five points or ten thousand and five. What difference did it make, in the end?

“Shizun,” Binghe said, wretched. His throat worked, as though he was trying to fish some more words out, but nothing came. Instead, his eyes were watering. “I’m sorry, please don’t –”

"Nothing has changed for this master," Shen Qingqiu said. The smoke in the air was really making his head hurt. “I told you. Binghe is still Binghe.”

The Abyss beckoned behind Binghe’s back.

A timer was ticking down in Shen Qingqiu’s head.

What was this, a hostage situation??

“I won’t punish you,” he said. “I won’t banish you from your home, or - or push you into the Abyss. Binghe has done nothing wrong.”

The System chimed again.

[ Valued user, the window for completing the critical quest “The Endless Abyss and Endless Hatred, a Sky Filled with Crystal Frost and Tears of Blood” is closing. If it is not successfully completed within the next five minutes, points will be deducted! ]

Five minutes! That was barely time enough for a proper villain monologue!

[ Consider it encouragement! ٩(*•͈ ꇴ •͈*)و ̑̑❀ ]

No thank you!

Shen Qingqiu grabbed Binghe's wrist and powerwalked away from the entrance to the Abyss.

When he stopped, at what felt like a slightly safer distance, Binghe was giving him a look that seemed less upset and more … assessing.

Binghe, what are you seeing?

It didn't matter. Shen Qingqiu didn't know how much time he had left, and this part was important.

"Binghe," he said. "No matter what happens next, this master is trying his best to protect you."

Binghe swallowed. "What do you think will happen, Shizun?"

"I don't know," Shen Qingqiu said. "But it will probably be bad. I'm -"

[ Warning! Saying what you are thinking about saying would threaten the integrity of the narrative. ]

The words came with a spark of pain, flaring up right in the centre of his forehead.

Shen Qingqiu hissed. It felt like he'd touched a hot stove. 

The gloves were really starting to come off now.

"It doesn't matter," Shen Qingqiu said. "All that matters is - Binghe, you're going to be fine. No matter what happens next. You'll grow up clever and strong, and you'll meet so many people who will love you -"

There was a ringing in his ears. Binghe looked like -

Like Shen Qingqiu really had stabbed him in the chest again, right above the heart.

Shen Qingqiu couldn't stand it.

He pulled Binghe into a tight hug.

"You have to try to be happy," he said, scrambling, desperate. "All this master wants is for you to be well. You could, you could take over the cultivation world or the demon world or both, or you could - you could leave it all behind and start weaving baskets, you could -" the ringing in his ears pitched sharply up again "- fuck, you could revolutionise the, the food service industry, you could do anything -"

"Shizun," Binghe said quietly, cutting through the noise, "you're bleeding."

Oh. Was he?

Did it even matter?

"It's fine," Shen Qingqiu said.

The system dinged in his ear.

[ The critical quest “The Endless Abyss and Endless Hatred, a Sky Filled with Crystal Frost and Tears of Blood” has expired. Twenty thousand B-Points will now be deducted. ]

Then -

Pain.

It screamed through his nerves, eating into his bones like acid. His vision was swimming, dark and white and red spots blooming in front of him like fireworks, like flowers, and with every spark his breath was stabbed out of him, his face wet with tears or sweat or blood.

[ Insufficient B-Points. Shut-down protocol initiated. ]

Binghe was there, his voice in Shen Qingqiu's ear, though it was hard to make out what he was saying.

"Shizun," Binghe said again, louder, slower. He sounded scared. He sounded … older, somehow.

"Mm," Shen Qingqiu agreed, scared to open his mouth. His molars were full of spiders.

There was something stuck in his throat.

"Is this -" Binghe took a deep breath, as though he was bracing himself "- is this “The Endless Abyss and Endless Hatred, a Sky Filled with Crystal Frost and Tears of Blood”?"

Shen Qingqiu vomited blood.

In the extremely literal sense: a dark red clot the size of a fist landed on the ground with a splat. For a second, Shen Qingqiu thought it was his heart, but no - that was still jumping arrhythmically in his chest.

He would get stuck on the gross-out factor, but another sheet of pain hit him, an icy fire that scraped his nerves, shaving them down to their filamented fibers, and -

"How," he managed. It was all he could do before more blood came out, splattering down his robes.

They would be impossible to clean, he thought, as his muscles began to spasm.

Binghe paused as though he was listening to something, and then nodded sharply against the top of Shen Qingqiu's head, as though he had come to some sort of decision.

"System," Binghe said. "Give Shen Qingqiu all my points."

The pain stopped as suddenly as it had begun.

What the fuck??

The System dinged again.

[ Apologies, valued customer! It appears as though the shut-down sequence was initiated in error. Restoring full functionality. ]

Shen Qingqiu drew a shaky breath. His hands pressed hard against the ground; a small, sharp pebble dug into the meat of his thumb.

“What,” he managed, throat scratchy and raw. He felt as though someone had dropkicked him down Cang Qiong Mountain.

“Shizun,” Binghe said. He was kneeling in front of him, carefully pushing the hair out of Shen Qingqiu’s face. His nose was bleeding. “Are you okay?”

“You - Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu managed.

Binghe opened his mouth to answer, but he froze before he could say anything.

The sound covered all of the earth: A shrieking static, a metallic crunch-and-whine that would not end.

Everything fell away.

-

[Warning! Warning! Warning!

Critical narrative breakdown imminent!

Please hold for maintenance. ]

-

The world filtered back in in pieces: four walls and a bed; a strange desk and a strange chair; a dark, flat metal thing on the desk that was tethered to a nest of thick, smooth cables; a body in strange clothing collapsed on the floor.

Luo Binghe took it all in.

He was in his adult body, with its old scars: the heart, the hand.

The air was wrong. Too flat, somehow. Strangely dry.

Shizun was nowhere to be seen.

For a moment, Luo Binghe entertained the thought that this might be someone's dream realm, but no.

This place was something else. Not quite a dream, but not quite real, either. An in-between place, like the empty space where he had first encountered the System.

"System," Luo Binghe murmured. "What is this place?"

[ System is currently under maintenance. Thanking our valued customer for your patience. ]

Useless. Luo Binghe glared at the bookshelf by the desk. One of the shelves was reserved for toys made from some kind of smooth, matte alloy, tiny humanoid and monstrous figures standing side by side. Their proportions were exaggerated, their features highly stylized. A few of them looked like -

The body on the floor twitched and groaned.

Not dead.

Perhaps this person could be useful in finding a way out of here. Perhaps he could help him locate Shizun, if Shizun was even in this place.

"Oh no," the stranger said weakly, staring down at his hands. His hair was cropped scandalously short; from where Luo Binghe was standing, he could see the ridged line of his spine, the back of his vulnerable neck. His back through his undershirt, a single layer of thin, dark cloth that did not so much leave things to the imagination as it eagerly suggested them.

Indecent.

The man groaned again. He staggered to his feet, unsteady, bracing himself on the strangely shaped chair. It twisted sharply sideways under his weight, and he fell onto the floor again, caught by the motion.

"Fuck," he said, with feeling.

Then he didn't move for a while.

Luo Binghe squatted down next to him.

"What is this place?" he asked.

The stranger turned his head to stare at him. It was the first time Luo Binghe could clearly see his face, and it sent a jolt through him; a lightning bolt, a flashfire haunting.

That profile - it really looked like -

"B-Binghe?" the stranger asked, blinking rapidly. His face was a little softer, his eyelashes a little shorter, but it still looked so much like the face of that other body Shizun had briefly inhabited that it stopped the breath in Luo Binghe's chest. And his voice -

It was not Shizun's voice.

But it was his inflection.

"Shizun?" Luo Binghe asked. It came out softer than he intended; fragile, like the ribcage of some small animal.

"I, ah," Shizun said, "yeah. Yes. I'm -" he pushed himself up into a sitting position, and then continued, in a desperate tone that made Luo Binghe's chest hurt: "I'm Shen Qingqiu. Binghe, I can explain -"

Relief hit like a hammer.

“There you are,” Luo Binghe said. “Shizun.”

Shizun made a soft, shocked exhale, barely voiced.

“What is this,” he murmured.

The flat metal thing on the desk flared to light, its polished surface transforming into the face of the System.

[ Apologies for the inconvenience, ] it read. [ System is currently under maintenance due to a critical narrative error. While maintenance is underway, Users will be relegated to a temporary lobby based on Users’ initial save states. Thanking Users for their patience! ]

“Oh,” Shizun said, as though that explained anything. Then he stopped, making a face as some thought occurred to him. “Wait, where is Airplane? And then why is Binghe - why is adult Binghe -”

[ Apologies for the inconvenience, ] the System repeated helpfully. [ System is currently under maintenance due to a critical narrative error. While maintenance is underway, Users will be relegated to a temporary lobby based on Users’ initial save states. Thanking Users for their patience! ]

“Fuck, okay.” Shizun put his hands over his face, fingers digging into the soft skin of his temples. “I didn’t have enough points, but then you … you … Binghe.”

“Yes, Shizun?”

“How did you know about the points?”

“The System gave me a mission, Shizun,” Luo Binghe said. “It told me I needed to go into the Abyss, and that there was a price to pay for failing to complete it.”

It had been a surprise. The System rarely gave him objectives, and only sometimes imposed potential penalties, beyond speaking of it. Usually, when it did instruct him to do something, as it had when Shizun told him to fight Elder Sky Hammer, it was something he would have done anyway. More often, it would inform him that his point total had increased, usually after he achieved some kind of personal milestone.

But now…

It had told him he had to be thrown into the Abyss. When Shizun did not do it, the objective had shifted: Throw yourself into the Abyss.

Of course he wouldn't do it.

He couldn't, not when Shizun was collapsing, face slick and red with blood.

So -

Admittedly, it had been a hunch.

But (Shizun's sword in his chest, the first time around: the threat of the System; the shrill demands in Luo Binghe's ear; the way the Abyss seemed to beckon, a threat and a promise, inevitable) it was an informed one.

"After I gave you the points, I was informed that I no longer had enough, and that my account would be terminated," Luo Binghe said.

Shizun gave a sharp bark of laughter. It stung; Shizun must have seen it on his face, because his eyes softened, and he reached up to pat Luo Binghe's head.

"Not like that," Shizun said. "I just find it funny that the System would try to boot you out. It must really be glitching."

"I don't know what that means," Luo Binghe said.

Shizun sighed. It made his face scrunch up in ways his other face did not.

"It doesn't matter," Shizun said.

Luo Binghe glanced meaningfully around the room. When he spoke, the words came out heavy. "Doesn't it?"

Shizun looked away. His mouth went flat and tight; a snarled thread, catching.

So it was like that.

Like this, all over again, every time.

"Of course," Luo Binghe said darkly, "Shizun will not tell this lowly disciple anything. Of course Shizun does not trust him. Of course he would throw him away -"

Shizun sat up straight. He reached out toward Luo Binghe's shoulders, but his balance was off; instead, his hands ended up tangled up in Luo Binghe's robes. 

"Uh," he said, face red, and then seemed to make a decision. His hands tightened around the fabric and then flattened against Luo Binghe's chest. He swallowed; he looked up from under his lashes with a strange, queasy intensity.

Luo Binghe wanted to apologise endlessly, to burn everything down just to keep Shizun from leaving, to ask if he was okay, to pull him close, to eat him alive -

But there was a horrible, fragile tension in the air, in Shizun's long fingers, that Luo Binghe could not bear to break.

He stayed still.

"I told you already," Shizun said quietly. "This master won't leave you again."

"Then why won't you," Luo Binghe said, unable to help himself, vision blurring. Then, with a spike of alarm: "Is the System still keeping you from speaking?"

Shizun frowned thoughtfully.

"I don't … think so," he said haltingly. "It's just … words. I'm, ah. It's. Difficult."

"Then -"

"You traveled back in time as well?" Shizun asked, cutting him off. "From - Maigu Ridge?"

Just thinking about it made Luo Binghe feel violently unwell, running hot and cold with grief and guilt and sulfurous, corrosive shame.

"Yes," he said quietly. "Shizun, this disciple is sorry -"

"Xin Mo is poison to the spirit," Shizun said. "This master knows you did not mean it."

"I killed you," Luo Binghe said.

"Well, no," Shizun said. "The rocks did."

That did not help. Shizun must have seen it on his face, because he reached up to pat cheek. His palm was cool and slightly sweaty against Luo Binghe's skin.

"All I'm saying is," Shizun said, "we're here now, and we're both alive."

He glanced up at the glass where the System was still projecting its message.

"... Probably," he amended.

"Shizun," Luo Binghe said, pained.

"Mm," Shizun said. He lifted his hand from Luo Binghe's face (upsetting, unnecessary) to pat his head (good, correct).

None of them spoke for a while.

"What is this place?" Luo Binghe asked, when Shizun lowered his hand again.

"When Binghe fried the System, it must have thrown us into some kind of lobby," he said.

"What does that mean?"

"A waiting space," Shizun said. "A place to be between … games, while the arena is being prepared. That must be why we are in these forms, too - the System has restored us to the way we were before the start of this round."

"Is that what this is?" Luo Binghe asked quietly. "A game?"

He felt - he did not know what he felt. Anger, yes, but also … something like understanding. A joint snapping back into alignment; a sudden clarity.

Shizun made a face.

"Yes and no," he said. Then, seemingly out of nowhere: "Let this old master tell you a story."

Luo Binghe nodded, but Shizun would not quite meet his eyes. Instead, he picked at a loose thread in the seam of his stiff blue trousers.

"Once upon a time," he said, from somewhere far away, "there was a child known as Shen Yuan."

It felt as though he was calling something up from the depths of him, intoning, ringing like a bell.

“Shen Yuan was the third son of a rich merchant, and he wanted for nothing, but even so, his life was hollow. To combat the emptiness, he filled his head with stories about great heroes who fought great battles and conquered strange worlds. Out of all of them, there was one story that crept into his heart.”

A chill spidered its way up Luo Binghe's spine.

"Shizun," he said, unsure if he wanted him to stop or keep going.

It didn't matter; Shizun did not seem able to slow down the telling.

"It was known as Proud Immortal Demon Way , and it detailed the rise of Luo Binghe, a cultivator whose secret demon heritage allowed him to rise to power as demon emperor and take revenge on the people who had wronged him.

"Shen Yuan loved Luo Binghe, but he hated the story of Proud Immortal Demon Way . What began as a solid idea with a strong and promising emotional core quickly devolved into a bloated mess of poorly structured misery porn that then turned into increasingly preposterous forays into truly excremental attempts at real porn. Who needs a harem of more than six hundred wives?? Every arc it was another girl you would never see again after, and once that started, the author barely bothered with anything even adjacent to the real plot again! It was just unbelievably frustrating! How could you waste a character like Luo Binghe on such fourth-rate garbage? Not even the monsters were interesting enough to … make up for … ah."

Shizun cleared his throat, face flaming.

"Anyway," he said, "Shen Yuan was mad about it until the day he died."

"You," Luo Binghe said, and shut his mouth hard enough that his teeth clacked together, grazing the side of his tongue.

"When he woke up," Shizun said, "he was someone else."

Luo Binghe barely dared to breathe.

"Shen Qingqiu had just died in a qi deviation," Shen Qingqiu said. "His body was empty, and the System threw me into it, and then I made it my own."

"When you called me out of the woodshed and gave me medicine," Luo Binghe said slowly.

"Yes," Shizun said. "Binghe, I'm sorry."

"No," Luo Binghe said, eyes stinging. In his chest, half-turned keys were twisting through their final rotations, the locks coming undone, the drawers sliding open. The secret that had whispered to him for years, half-heard and unintelligible, was tumbling out and into the light. "No, there is nothing to be sorry for. This is - that Shizun loved his Binghe even before we met, that he would -"

Then the tears took over.

Shizun made a panicked sound, and then reached out to pull Luo Binghe close. Luo Binghe had expected him to smell like sweat and dust, but instead he smelled like nothing, as though his body was not really there.

Constructs, he thought. But Shizun's shoulder was still warm when he buried his face into it, so what did it matter?

"This master acted foolishly the first time around," Shizun murmured, fingers carding through Luo Binghe's hair. "He thought the story was set in stone. That he had to - to push Binghe into the Abyss. And that there was a punishment coming for that."

"I wouldn't have," Luo Binghe muttered into the line of Shizun's collarbone. He wanted very badly to bite it.

"I know that now," he said, with an embarrassed little huff. "But knowing what I did, it all felt so inescapable that I didn't know what else to do. "

"Shizun did his best."

Shizun hmmed as though he disagreed. He pulled Luo Binghe's face up to look at him. "Anyway, I just told you you're from a story, shouldn't you be freaking out?"

"As Shizun said," Luo Binghe murmured, "we're here now, and we're both alive."

Everything else could be dealt with later.

Shizun gave a short, sharp laugh.

"Yeah, okay," he said. "This master won't leave your side again."

He gave him a sideways smile. Luo Binghe wanted to bite his mouth, to sink his teeth into that soft lower lip until he drew blood and then lick it all better.

Shizun must have seen something on his face. He went still, eyes wide and shocked, and then -

They were kissing, teeth clicking painfully with the force of it, everything hot and slick and close, Shizun's hands winding tight into Luo Binghe's hair -

Ding!

"Fuck off!" Shizun yelled.

[ OLD_DATA restored. Updating genre classification. ] 

The System's surface crawled with letters, too fast to make out anything in the blur. Luo Binghe stared at them. "What -?"

The System chimed again, cutting him off. [ Genre classification: Time Travel Fix It, Danmei. ]

Shizun stood up. His hands tightened into fists; his arms were shaking. Luo Binghe followed him, holding onto his waist.

Ding!

The room buckled and bent around them. Luo Binghe pulled Shizun tighter; Shizun grabbed his arm with enough force that if Luo Binghe were anyone else, it would have bruised.

The windows shattered; the glass flaked away into shifting, massless crystals. The world outside was a wide, blank space, white as bone or a piece of paper.

Then the walls were flaking away, too, and the floor; the System chimed again, the sound so loud it felt as though it came from within his own brain.

[ Congratulations! Congratulations! Congratulations! Important things must be said three times! ] it said. [Under the new genre classification, Users qualify for a Happy Ending! The story is now complete. System will now list your achievements:

1. That's So Meta
2. No W| ]

"Stop," Luo Binghe said.

The System did. The thin, white line that heralded its next letter blinked unceirtanly.

Luo Binghe put a hand up against its smooth surface, dragging his nails down its side.

It might take Xin Mo to kill a thing like this.

It might take more.

But if this was just a story, and if Luo Binghe was its main character -

If him leaving the story was enough to destabilise the System so thoroughly -

If that was the case, he was going to decide how it went. 

He might not have Xin Mo, but he didn't need it.

"You say it's ended," he said, "so it's ended. No chatter in our ears, no punishments, no quests, no achievements. You had your story; now we're taking it back."

He pressed his nail harder into the System's surface until it began to crack. It wouldn't hurt it, probably; like the body Luo Binghe was currently in, this was just a construct.

But it did feel very satisfying.

Luo Binghe leaned his weight into it. Fragments of glass splintered away from the words. The light of the letters still glared back at him from inside the widening gap.

"If you speak to Shizun or this lord again," Luo Binghe said, "If I so much as hear of your involvement in this world, I will break it all apart to get to you." He twisted his finger around for emphasis and smiled. "And then I will break you. Is that clear?"

There was a pause. The System flickered.

[ ... The narrative has been completed satisfactorily, ] it said begrudgingly. [ However, User should be warned that breaking things off here will void any haloes in play, including that of the Protagonist. ]

Shizun's hands tightened around Luo Binghe's arm again. Luo Binghe reached over to gently stroke his fingers across the back of Shizun's hand, and then stabbed his finger back into the construct the System had made for itself.

[ You will no longer be as powerful or protected as you were, ] the System said. [ Any normal thing will be able to kill you. ]

"Shizun will keep me safe," Luo Binghe said. "And I'll keep him safe in return. Now let us go and leave us, before I find a way to tear you apart with my bare hands."

[ This is only a manifestation of the System. Tearing it apart will have no effect. ]

"No," Luo Binghe said, "but this is an in-between place, isn't it? Things work differently here. I am closer to you than I have ever been, and you know what I'm capable of. Do you really want to give me the time to work out how to follow your black threads all the way home?"

[ There is no need to be rude (¬_¬") ] the System said. [ The honourable Users will of course be released back into the world, and this System will leave. You will, of course, lose out on a series of exclusive offers and prizes. ]

"You heard what he said," Shizun said. "Get us out of here."

The System didn't respond.

Instead, between one breath and the next, they were back at Jue Di Gorge.

It was as though they had never left. Shizun - now back to his usual body - was covered in blood. The second he realised what had happened, he started laughing, loud and high. He laughed until he was sobbing into his sleeves, smearing blood everywhere. Luo Binghe held him as well as he could. He was back in his younger body again, too, which made it less effective than he wanted it to be.

He wasn't sure he knew what it meant to be a protagonist, or what it meant to give it up. He didn't feel too different; everything still hurt the same. The air tasted the same, too, and the ice Mobei-jun had left behind when he went still sparkled just as brilliantly as it had before the System collapsed.

Maybe everything would change; maybe nothing would. Maybe he would find out slowly or be blindsided when it was too late. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

But Shizun would be with him. Whatever came next, he would help him see it through.

That alone would be more than enough.

Above them, the clouds opened up.

Very gently, it began to rain.