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Chapter Text

Shen Qingqiu was the marbled black leopard of Qing Jing Peak.

At the highest ledge sat a grove of lush bamboo, thick to the point of obscuring sight. And therein was the good master’s home. A singular path carved its way up through this show of seclusion, made up of carefully lain stone. It was said that to place even a single toe upon the very first step was to invite misfortune, and so naturally rumors ran wild as to why.

As if designed to reinforce these murmurings, the most esteemed cultivators gave the sky above a courtesy distance when flying on their swords. If the sect leader paid a visit, even he was sure to use the path, despite urgency or whatever distance it may have added to his travels. None dared to intrude uninvited.

New disciples were told only the once from their shizun’s own mouth: “No one is to approach my home, regardless of the reason. Punishment will be immediate.”

The favored explanation for this was a simple one. Many believed Shen Qingqiu was hiding away a dainty wife of unparalleled beauty. It was said that her face was so moving as to cause a man to fall in love with her upon sight alone, and her kindness so inexhaustible that her grace could tolerate even the most inhospitable of environments.

In short, the only kind of woman who could possibly entice, and furthermore marry, a contemptible man like Shen Qingqiu.

Bullshit! Bullshit! Bullshit!

The only thing tucked away in the bamboo grove like a precious doll was Shen Qingqiu’s twin brother, Shen Yuan.

Upon waking up in this body, Shen Yuan’s disorientation had been profound. After all, transmigration he could conceivably cope with, yet how was he supposed to deal with inhabiting the body of a character who was never in the original work? Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky, do you have a good explanation for this? Was this man who shared his name in the original draft or not!

For the time being, Shen Yuan decided to assume that this role had been forcibly created for him by the System itself. After all, the likenesses were too startling otherwise. In his past life, he had been the youngest son in a wealthy family, and he had been prone to illness and weak of body. Thus, his life had consisted of comfort, leisure, and endless hours to while away his existence. Surely, it was only with such a lifestyle that one could feasibly read all of Proud Immortal Demon Way to completion. Who else had the time to bother?

The Shen Yuan of this world’s cultivation was on par with his twin’s, shockingly, but there were some shortcomings to this. Namely, he had been inflicted with a poison while young which inhibited his ability. It was only through sheer tenacity and his brother’s guidance that he apparently overcame an inevitable death and eventually managed to reach mid-core formation. However, due to Without A Cure’s cumbersome meddling, his qi often fluctuated in its stability, rendering him wholly unreliable in any meaningful capacity and making him prone to bouts of weakness and, on occasion, illness.

Airplane, Brother, was this character powerful or not? What kind of Gary Stu fantasy was this! Who can form such a core with unstable qi! How has this Shen Yuan not suffered fatally from a qi deviation from the first attempt! And you make him ill? Tell me, what is the purpose other than certain tragedy?

Considering that Shen Yuan was not a character featured in the official work, he was almost afraid to ask what had happened to this man who shared his namesake. A treacherous snake like Shen Qingqiu having a mournful backstory was unnecessary for reader satisfaction. Who cared if he had once a twin? That excused none of his venomous and horrific actions!

Well, that was to say, that was how Shen Yuan felt about the novel’s portrayal of Shen Qingqiu. But now, living under his care, ah…

Things had become complicated in that regard.

“Is A-Yuan hungry?”

“I could eat,” Shen Yuan answered vaguely, looking up from his book. Old habits died hard, alright? He had been here three months and there was only so much he could look out the window and occupy himself with his own thoughts! Reading was a fine occupation, even for an immortal!

“Then I will send word,” Shen Qingqiu told him, gracefully rising and moving to the open window where a small bird was perched. He tapped it lightly with his fan and it fluttered off, carrying an unencrypted message through transmitted qi.

Very… elegant.

Very reclusive.

Shen Yuan had a begrudging respect for the means of communication, even if he knew at the other end of this favor was thin, almost flavorless broth.

Inedia was asking too much of this one! At least allow him to still taste food! That was one of his few prior joys, and at this point the broth almost seemed savory in comparison to nothingness!

Within no time at all, a diligent knock came at the door to the bamboo house and Shen Qingqiu waited a page turn’s before going to open it. A bowl of broth sat neatly outside, as if ordered via delivery. The person who had brought it—Ming Fan, Shen Yuan presumed—had long departed.

With a delicacy that was surprising for a lead villain, Shen Qingqiu slowly lifted the platter and brought it to the table, setting out the broth for his twin with a deeply ascertaining gaze and open concern. After finishing this task, he went back to shut the door.

The truth of the matter was, it was difficult for Shen Yuan to loathe this Shen Qingqiu as much as he had the man in the story. Although his face was cold and his eyes carried a withering bite, he became almost warm in Shen Yuan’s presence. No matter what Shen Yuan requested, Shen Qingqiu pursued it without question. He never spoke of his feelings, but his devotion was wholly apparent.

Shen Yuan said some prayers for the Original Goods. ‘I was in the wrong. You should have at least been allowed to keep your genitals.’

***

Shen Qingqiu idly tossed the jade pendant on the table like so much trash, and Shen Yuan felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end as he stared at it.

Luo Binghe’s fake jade pendant. There was no mistaking such a prominent plot point, and it was about that time, wasn’t it? The protagonist must have just recently lost it.

So, then… why did Shen Qingqiu have it?

“What’s this?” He asked, moving to pick it up. His brother’s face darkened upon seeing him touch something from the outside world, but he refrained from commenting as Shen Yuan studied the key item more closely.

“Some disciple of mine has littered,” Shen Qingqiu said bitterly. “I found the object hanging from a tree branch.”

Ah ha ha…

Really! Brother of mine, kind enabler, do you not think this is more than just crumpled parchment?

“What are you going to do with it?” Shen Yuan asked, trying to keep his identical face neutral.

His twin exhaled a noise that sounded put upon. Then he settled with, “If it is sought, I may choose to return it. If not, I shall discard it.”

Throw away the protagonist’s treasure! You wish for death!?

“May I hold onto it?” Shen Yuan asked, his voice light and innocuous, as though he found the object pleasing.

Shen Qingqiu arched a brow, looked disdainfully at the object, and announced, “It is a fake.”

As if to imply that Shen Yuan deserved better. How touching! And how misplaced! Value is not in quality, okay? This is the protagonist’s most cherished object!

“I know,” Shen Yuan agreed. And then, after considering it for a moment he added, “I sense… positive energy emanating from it. It feels lucky.”

His brother’s eyes narrowed, flicking to the faux jade and back, less like he was seeking falsehood and more as if he were trying to understand. After a moment, he relented. “As A-Yuan wishes. It is yours.”

Shen Yuan gave a brief smile even if he went sheet white on the inside. Brother, I want to live! Don’t curse me like this! When did I ever say I wanted to keep it for good? The System's [Congratulations! Obtained key item!] did little to soothe his anxiety.

He ended up tucking away the pendant in a cabinet of his belongings. And if perhaps he affixed a talisman to it in order to ward off evil, who could truly blame him? He wanted no misunderstandings about his intentions!

***

Luo Binghe was not where he was supposed to be.

He had asked after his jade pendant, and Shizun had been displeased. His face had filled with scorn as he told him, “You disgrace this peak with your ineptitude. You will be reprimanded.”

His shixiong had beaten him before demanding he perform a list of laborious chores. Of course, he understood he deserved this outcome. He had been too negligent with something tremendously important to him. He had lost it due to weakness, and if he lacked the ability to become stronger then he would lose much more than a keepsake in the future.

But, admittedly, it did cloud his mind with bitterness.

The spark in Luo Binghe that implored him to believe that Shizun was doing this for his own good was starting to die out. He feared that, soon, like a star in the night sky… it may be there one moment and gone the next.

For that reason, realizing he had stumbled into the clearing that held Shizun’s home made his heart beat to life with both curiosity and apprehension. Its appearance was more elegant and simplistic than expected, when Shizun walked with the stride of a noble. A newly sown seed quickly took root; if he could understand him better, would he be able to follow his teachings without wavering?

And so, against his better judgement, he approached.

There was an open window on what seemed to be a side room. He simply wanted to peek inside, and then he would run away in order to digest whatever it was that he spied.

Yet, as if summoned, the moment Luo Binghe was close enough he could have grasped the sill, a figure appeared. His eyes locked with those of the man’s.

Shen Qingqiu.

Cold sweat prickled all over Luo Binghe’s body, his throat closing under the weight of that surprised expression. Shizun had made himself so utterly clear, and despite that this disciple had been disobedient! If was expelled from the sect, then so be it! Clearly, this act was one of Luo Binghe’s many failings, and Shizun’s appraisal of him had been nothing but accurate!

Just as he was about to shout his apologies, the figure in the window jolted and surged forward, leaning far out in order to press his fingers against Luo Binghe’s lips. There was a wild expression on that beautiful face, bearing no hint of coldness. The skin against his lips was soft, and carried a sweet fragrance. A silken sleeve tickled his cheek.

Luo Binghe could only stare, stunned into silence.

A breeze disturbed Shizun’s hair, and he was ensnared by how lovely the man looked in casual form—hair tied up less elegantly, robes light and white. It was as if he might have only just roused from slumber and decided to spend a serene day indoors.

Slowly, the fingers pulled away from his mouth and Luo Binghe obligingly said nothing as that perfectly sculpted face changed emotions—first hesitance, then questioning, then relief. It was as if he were trying to say with his eyes, ‘Don’t speak, okay?’

Unable to do anything other than obey, Luo Binghe nodded, throat tight, feeling the loss of contact deeply in his chest.

As if to reaffirm the need for silence, Shizun pressed a finger to his own lips—

The same that had touched Luo Binghe’s!

And then the man dropped his hand to perform a motion that he could only fathom meant, ‘Wait.’

Again, as if uncertain, Shizun hesitated. It was like he was attempting to confirm that Luo Binghe understood him. He glanced to the side once, appearing to check for something, and then disappeared into the home.

Luo Binghe awaited his return, breathless and bewildered.

When he did, it was on silent footsteps. Shizun leaned out the window, cradling something in his hands. When he opened them, the jade pendant sat on his palms. It had been cleaned and polished, and gleamed in the light with a radiant luster. Luo Binghe was aware that it was fake—surely Shizun could see as well, with his discerning eye—and yet he had cared for it so tenderly. Luo Binghe held out his hands, accepting it, unable to help the shudder that went up his spine at the burn of those pale fingers where they brushed his own.

He stared at it, uncomprehending. Shizun had punished him earlier for asking about it. So why—

When he looked up, the man in the window was smiling all the way up to his eyes. As if pleased with his own handiwork, he leaned out just a little further than before to pat Luo Binghe’s head like he was a fisherman’s dog.

No.

No, now that he looked closer—

This wasn’t Shizun.

It was clearly a man, and he clearly bore Shizun’s face, but it wasn’t Shizun. They didn’t move the same. They didn’t smell the same. Luo Binghe was embarrassed to realize he should have recognized this fact sooner.

The not-Shizun made a shooing motion with his fingers, mirth sparkling in his eyes. Luo Binghe nodded. If this wasn’t Shizun, then that meant one or both of them could be in trouble! He left, putting more care to be quiet in his flight than he ever had before, clutching the jade pendant to his chest all the while.

His mind was tumultuous, ravaged by crashing waves of thought and emotion.

‘Who was that?’

***

Shen Yuan exhaled a long sigh, a strange kind of prickling exhilaration thrumming through his blood. He shut the window before it could entice any more plot important characters to his yard.

He had just! Interacted with! The Protagonist!

A shining beacon! A dirty, abused child with soulful eyes! A beauty unparalleled even in youth, who could drown you in his purity!

How could Shen Yuan mistake him for anyone else? He had practically glowed in the sunlight!

What an opportune time to get rid of a death flag of an object! Shen Qingqiu was cruel and merciless to his disciples, that much was evident, yet Shen Yuan was now fully of the mind that he wished his brother remain very much alive. After all, without him, Shen Yuan’s life would surely be full of misery. Black lotus protagonist killing off an entire family line in vengeance? Par for the course! Without Shen Qingqiu to take out his anger on, Shen Yuan was next!

And, perhaps… maybe…

Shen Qingqiu seemed to adore his twin in his own way. It was hard to begrudge him. What was that saying? A hero would sacrifice you for the world; a villain would sacrifice the world for you? It was deceptively touching to have that kind of spotlight!

It only occurred to him exactly what he had just managed to get away with when he stepped further into the main room and spied his brother dozing calmly on his bed, perfectly immaculate, not a hair out of place. Oh, what the image of an immortal! And he hadn’t woken even the slightest bit.

A giddiness bubbled up in Shen Yuan.

Undoubtedly, he had just altered the plot for the better. Was that what this felt like? Agency? Character depth? System, where were his points!

[+100 Protagonist Satisfaction Points!] The System chirped at him cheerfully. Shen Yuan had hardly utilized this program so far, instead choosing to spend his days in idleness, so he was unabashedly smug about its quick response. He was right! This occasion had warranted points!

[+2 Character Complexity for Shen Qingqiu!] Ohhh! Extra points!

[-10 Reputation Points with Protagonist for Shen Qingqiu.] The System concluded, no longer sounding as enthusiastic.

It took Shen Yuan a moment to register this and his eyes bored into the screen as he read it over at least three times. Minus points? Dear System, do you not mean plus? How could such a good event lose points!

The System unhelpfully said nothing.

Shen Yuan paced a few times, wracking his brain. His brother failed to rouse, likely seeing no need to engage himself in whatever was causing his twin to fuss.

After some consideration, Shen Yuan gave Shen Qingqiu a contemplative look. Then, he happened to spy his own reflection in a bronze mirror. Could it be…

Did the protagonist think he was Shen Qingqiu? Did he think he was mocking him by returning the object in such a manner? The fabled protagonist was brilliant of mind as a black wolf, but what now? Was there any way that sheep-faced disciple could realize he wasn’t his shizun? Did appearing so suddenly, lacking Shen Qingqiu’s refinement of form, cause him to accidentally lose face for his brother?

Surely Luo Binghe must be thinking: ‘My Shizun is a sloppy man who jeered at me as he threw the pendant into my hands! I will have my revenge!’

Satisfaction from regaining the item from evil! Loss of reputation for having it at all!

Shen Yuan dropped harshly to his knees and this caused his twin to now startle off of the bed, flitting to his side as if he’d teleported. “A-Yuan? What is it? Are you not feeling well?”

He gave him a despairing look. “I feel as if I have seen a ghost.”

It was true.

Shen Qingqiu’s expression hardened. Commander of cruelty, lacking in the art of metaphor. He said, “I shall call for a master exorcist at once.”

As dumbfounded as Shen Yuan was, there was little he could do. Soon his home was professionally purged of the phantoms it never had. He was unable to suffer the shame of crushing his brother’s thoughtful righteousness.

Instead, he busied himself with another thought. It was one that dominated all of his senses.

‘I may have just made our family’s end even worse than before. If so, I need to stop stalling and start taking action.’

He couldn’t have possibly known that on the other side of the mountain, Luo Binghe went to sleep in the woodshed with the pendant once more tucked safely against his chest. Clutching his hands over it, the memory of its return to him filled his body with warmth.

Chapter Text

Every good story needed a call to adventure, didn’t it? No need for a refusal! Shen Yuan wasn't a haloed protagonist, whose IQ loomed over every good-natured person he met. Which meant that he was free to get right into things, in a manner of speaking.

First order of business: imitate Shen Qingqiu’s appearance in order to further explore Qing Jing Peak.

Okay, perhaps there was some indulgence in that. He really wanted to see it, okay! But if he was going to figure out how to reduce Luo Binghe’s vengeance meter, then he required some base-level experience. You can’t play until you do the tutorial, after all. Scouting out the surrounding area would give him a better impression of what he was working with here.

As the real Shen Qingqiu prepared to whisk his disciples away on a demon-exterminating mission in Shuang Hu City—an event so inconsequential it didn’t even have a footnote in the novel—Shen Yuan made preparations of his own.

Barely two shichen had passed after his brother’s departure when Shen Yuan set to work.

There were marked advantages to having the same form and same face. Donning Shen Qingqiu’s robes as skillfully as he could manage, he even startled himself when he chanced a glance at that bronze mirror! The likeness was unreal. But, then of course came the matter of his hair…

Ha ha ha.

Well, he did as best he could with what he had.

There was an instinct deep down inside of him that guided him on some matters his own body knew intimately—how to channel qi, how to move, and sometimes even how to feel. It was as if the previous Shen Yuan, if one truly existed, had left an imprint of himself behind. Even though this body’s hair was similar in length to his twin’s, he had never struggled with caring for and combing it. From what he could glean, the former Shen Yuan had spend a fair amount of time in bed, so it was uncertain how much experience these fingers had in manipulating more complicated designs.

It seemed he had needlessly worried. Yes, his work was… not the same. But it was passing. He, himself, could spot the differences, but if someone else managed to he would be genuinely impressed.

After that came the matter of a fan…

It went without saying that Shen Qingqiu disliked change, and therefore had taken his most used fan with him. Why not dress up a little more? Use something fancier? If Shen Yuan had to guess, based on observation, it was likely that Shen Qingqiu hated interacting with strangers. Changing fans for formality would invite some discomfort as he adapted to its subtle differences. Therefore a ‘normal is best’ approach.

What a surprisingly sensitive man.

Rifling around in his twin’s belongings, it took no time at all to locate an entire drawer of neatly organized fans. Shen Yuan recognized some of these as gifts his brother had received, so after a bit of contemplation he eventually settled on a black and white design he knew Shen Qingqiu had recently purchased himself. The man had used it for about a day when his own favorite was lost. It would suit Shen Yuan’s needs perfectly.

Shen Yuan spent some time admiring himself in the bronze mirror. He was the spitting image of his brother. So long as he schooled his expression into something taciturn and cold, who could ever spot the difference?

He could have skipped out over the threshold to the outside world, he was so excited.

Which, of course, he did not. Character was everything!

The path down the mountain wasn’t much to speak about. Bamboo, bamboo, and more bamboo. But eventually it yielded to the more disciple-oriented areas of Qing Jing Peak, and Shen Yuan was absolutely thrumming with all the anticipation of a lore-starved fanboy.

He barely managed to survey the scene before him once—pathways leading to different areas, tidy buildings clustered primly together—when his admiration was interrupted by an explosive sound. It reminded him vaguely of the noise of active city construction.

Which disciple could this be? Hadn’t they all dutifully left with their shizun like a flock of ducklings?

Investigation was in order! That was the excuse Shen Yuan gave himself.

He followed the pounding, repetitive sound to its source. A short way beyond what was clearly a martial training ground, following a dirt path through bountiful greenery, he came upon a peculiar sight.

A man dressed in glimmering white and silver cloth, broad-shouldered, with his hair tied up high on his head…

Even from behind, it was clear he was attractive. No one with the prowess he was exhibiting at the moment would be anything less in Airplane’s work. Especially not if it was someone from the Cang Qiong Mountain Sect. It seemed as if he was coating his fists in qi and punching the stone tiger tree for endurance training.

Wait.

Shen Yuan was not a person with a lot of stamina, even in this life, so he was surprised by how swiftly he closed the distance between himself and the man, grabbing his wrist to halt even one more strike. Yes, his strength wasn’t enough to stop him with sheer force, but that was fine, because it seemed as though his appearance and touch had given the guy one hell of a fright. He yanked back on his own, jumping away to put distance between them, and sparing the tree anymore blows.

“You!” The man barked at him, which—

Yes, good, he thought he was Shen Qingqiu! But, stranger, why are you angry to meet the peak lord on his own peak?

Snapping his fan open to hide half his face so he could obscure some of his expression, Shen Yuan attempted to foster a disdainful look in his eyes. He must have succeeded, because the man in front of him tensed and grit his teeth.

He couldn’t even hazard a guess at a proper form of address, and getting such a critical thing wrong would instantly arouse suspicion. So, instead, he turned to look at the tree.

“Have you ever practiced here before?” He asked.

Maybe he should have said something more acerbic, like ‘How dare you utilize my training grounds!’ but he was a little worried and needed to watch his words carefully. So, vague was best.

Somehow, this was inadequate, though. From the corner of his eye, Shen Yuan could see the man squinting at him. After a long, unpleasant pause, the guy finally answered him as if the act was like pulling out his own teeth: “Yes, last season.”

“Spring. Hm. That makes sense.”

Shen Yuan was speaking to himself and realized it after a heartbeat. He attempted to pretend this was normal, which maybe it was. Shen Qingqiu was known to make idle commentary when working his way up to condemnation.

Well, he wouldn’t worry about it. Too much thinking would make this entire situation slow enough to inspire concern.

“In the springtime, the stone tiger tree’s bark is at its hardest,” he informed the man, pressing his fingers to the abused trunk and tracing the damage there. “In summer, it sheds its outermost layer to rebuild anew. During a single moon it goes through immense repair, making for a perfect training tool.”

In the original work, Luo Binghe had used such a tree as his preferred punching bag after coming back from the Endless Abyss; no other object could withstand his power. But there was a caveat to that usefulness.

“When in a state of renewal, the edges of its orange leaves turn black. And it broils internally with concentrated energy.” He looked at the stranger and gestured forward with his fan. “Come here.”

The man hesitated, gawking at him, before hesitantly striding forward to stand beside him. Shen Yuan took the man’s hand with his own and pressed his fingers to the bark.

“Feel its essence,” he guided him, keeping his palm over the back of the man’s knuckles in case he suddenly suffered from a bout of stubbornness. There was a sharp exhale from him, followed by a slow inhale.

Shen Yuan turned to find the man had closed his eyes. He could faintly feel him exploring the inner construction of the tree with his qi.

Oh, he really was quite a handsome man, wasn’t he? Masculine beauty. There was a short list of people who had been described as such in the novel, and even fewer who would march onto this peak when its master was away and be indignant about being caught.

Liu Qingge, most probably. Although, when he had read about him Shen Yuan had imagined him to be more... burly? Rugged? How was he supposed to know that in this case ‘handsome’ had meant ‘unparalleled physical refinement’? Of course, Luo Binghe naturally overshadowed him as the protagonist. What a waste.

Shen Yuan dropped his hand away, knowing this martial brother had done as expected, and returned to hiding his lower face behind his fan.

At this, the man’s eyes shot open, and he looked at him, his palm remaining on the bark. After a breath, he said, “It would have exploded had I breached the weakened surface.”

Good! Yes! With the main character away, this one kept all of his senses!

“Exactly,” Shen Yuan confirmed. “And I would advise treatment for the shards of inner bark that may have embedded into your skin. The splinters cannot be felt, but they release a mild toxin that will inhibit recuperation. As rest is integral to training, I foresee an infliction like that being cumbersome for you… Shidi.”

High-risk, high-reward! Give me confirmation of your identity, stranger!

The man searched his eyes, gaze piercing. Shen Yuan self-consciously felt himself raise the fan higher. This seemed to only perplex the man all the more. “Why are you… telling me this? Doesn’t it suit you better if I suffer?”

Shen Yuan had to refrain from sputtering. What kind of relationship had his twin been forming between himself and this man? Was it jealousy over looks? Yes, Liu Qingge was wildly more beautiful than any reader would have ever guessed, but Shen Qingqiu had his own qualities too, so no cat fighting, okay?

Maybe if he could repair some of that damage now, their family’s situation might be improved. Speaking of… didn’t Liu Qingge enter seclusion at some point in the near future? Oh, but his twin would never dare to leave his side for that long, so surely the murder plot was off the table, right? Right?

Either way, it was best to be cautious.

“Is Liu-shidi intending to enter the Ling Xi Caves soon?”

The lack of a correction made Shen Yuan slowly relax as Liu Qingge gave a grunt and a nod, still radiating suspicion. And perhaps now even more so, considering what he’d just asked.

“Please obtain permission from Mu-shidi first; if you falter due to a spell of poor health, it may mean your death.”

Liu Qingge’s hostility was the only thing that exploded in this clearing. “I don’t need you to tell me that!”

And then he stormed off, summoning his sword in a huff and taking flight before Shen Yuan could even so much as admire its blade. He inhaled a hiss, worried that he may have driven the man into the caves all the sooner. Something, something, fated to die. Would that be his fault, then? Should he have worded his concern differently? Added a little more insult and venom?

Shen Yuan had known that meddling would be tricky, but this felt like hard mode. Liu Qingge’s and Shen Qingqiu’s hatred for each other was legendary!

Ah, well. What was done was done. He hoped everything turned out okay.

He made to return to his exploration, his heart not quite as in it as before due to this incredible failure.

***

Luo Binghe was immersed in a spell of self-pity.

Truly, he knew this outcome was of his own making. But it still left him churning with grief. Shizun had been in a terrible mood lately, imperious and untouchable, and all of his irritation had fallen on the shoulders of Luo Binghe.

Was it deserved? Yes…

Yes.

Luo Binghe was a worthless disciple. He had only floundered thus far in his attempt to cultivate. Why should he be allowed to attend on a mission? Shizun was right, he would only get in the way.

‘I want the entire grounds cleaned by the time I return, mongrel.’

“…”

It was difficult, but Luo Binghe understood. Shizun’s loathing of him was not misplaced. He had boldly been selected for his promise and bitten Shizun’s hand repeatedly by revealing none of it.

Lost in these miserable thoughts, it took Luo Binghe a moment to notice the sound of footsteps. He had witnessed Liu-shishu’s flying departure, so it couldn’t have been him. So, then who…?

Luo Binghe peered around the corner of the kitchen warily. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he spied Shizun walking gracefully through the courtyard.

Wasn’t he supposed to be—

No.

No, it was not-Shizun. It was the other man who had the same face!

Shizun walked nobly, but his footfalls were confident. This person walked gracefully, like he was disallowing his steps from disturbing the earth itself.

In a rash act, Luo Binghe darted out from his hiding spot to run up to the strange man. Before the person could so much as utter surprise, Luo Binghe was bowing, words flowing out of him with the rush of river rapids. “This lowly disciple wanted to express his immense gratitude for the return of his pendant! If there is anything this disciple can do—,”

Before he could get any further, a hand lighted on his shoulder and the voice that came with it said, “Ah, no need. Luo Binghe, raise your head.”

He knew his name. He called him by his name.

And his voice…

Even this man’s voice was like Shizun’s, but the way he used it was so incredibly different. It made Luo Binghe feel like he was in the presence of someone who truly cared about him.

He lifted his head, vibrating with emotion.

The man fanned himself slightly, observing him over a line of white; a design of bamboo painted in black ink decorated the front of his fan. His eyes were much kinder than Shizun’s were.

Luo Binghe had not been mistaken in identifying him. Yet, he had never seen this person wander the grounds before. Why was he doing so now, dressed as Shizun?

“This master is morally bound to see objects to their rightful owner,” the man said after a pause, as if sounding out the words little by little. Was he…

Was he pretending to be Shizun?

Luo Binghe licked his lip and then tried, “Shizun.”

“Hm?” The man hummed, appearing to relax at the address.

He was! He was imitating Shizun's appearance so as to not be noticed! But why? He had been in Shizun’s home, so it was impossible that his presence was unwanted on Qing Jing Peak. Yet, there were rumors about why no one could approach. Could it be because of this person? Was he a relative of Shizun’s, and that was why their appearances were startlingly similar? And if he was pretending like this, did it mean he was forbidden from leaving his lodgings?

Luo Binghe felt simultaneous emotions—Shizun would surely be furious, and that filled him with dread, but the mischief of this moment made something in his chest dance. It seemed so incongruent with his understanding of this world that someone so nice like this existed in secret.

Yes, he would help this man. Shizun may be displeased with him, but kindness should be rewarded with kindness.

“Shizun, are you… hungry?”

It was a shy offer, but the least he could do was prepare food and tea for his unexpected guest. As a lone disciple, he would play the proper host.

Real Shizun would have immediately scoffed and told him he had no need for food or drink, and if he was feeling offended he would order Luo Binghe’s punishment for accusing him of weakness.

So Luo Binghe watched with barely contained fascination as not-Shizun’s expression kept changing behind his fan, like water being exchanged to the next slat of a waterwheel. Was he… fighting with himself? Or attempting to think of what Shizun would do in this situation?

“This disciple insists on serving Shizun to ensure this disciple’s gratitude is well-known!” He announced, hoping his words might cut off not-Shizun’s urge to deny him at the root.

The man jumped a little and then gave him a look that Luo Binghe thought must be fond, if not exasperated.

“This master would be… remiss to turn down such a generous offer.”

Victory!

Luo Binghe had never felt so much pressure before as he went about preparing food. Not-Shizun was settled in at a table that kitchen hands ate at, seemingly at home even in such an unworthy setting. He had asked after Luo Binghe’s cultivation progress, and in turn asked to see the manual this disciple was using. Of course, Luo Binghe would not refuse him this, and so had retrieved it from the woodshed. As he cooked, not-Shizun was reading over his materials and enjoying freshly brewed tea.

In short order, Luo Binghe was pushing a plate of freshly steamed mantou in front of not-Shizun. The man lowered the book and studied the buns. Luo Binghe had poured his heartfelt thanks into making them into the shape of flowers.

“Very impressive,” not-Shizun murmured, reaching out and hovering his fingers over them but not touching them. Luo Binghe lit up, chest filling with light.

Then, as if remembering himself, the man before him cleared his throat.

“This master is curious as to how Luo Binghe made these so quickly.”

“This disciple had already set the yeast to rise in order to prepare for his own lunch,” he confessed. And then he immediately wished he could pluck the words back from the air. What if not-Shizun thought he was eating Luo Binghe’s food and was insulted? Or refused it out of kindness?

“Ah, sensible,” was all he said instead. And then he tapped the table with his fan. “Sit. It would be a shame if they get cold.”

Luo Binghe obeyed, but kept his hands to himself and did not move any further after sitting on the opposite bench.

Not-Shizun, of his own accord, poured himself more tea. And then he poured some into a second cup for Luo Binghe, pushing towards him with the expectation that they were now sharing this meal together.

“Now, tell this master what it is… exactly, that Luo Binghe has been performing while utilizing his manual?” Not-Shizun asked him.

And so, Luo Binghe ate mantou with the mysterious not-Shizun, who listened to him attentively when he spoke and always appeared eager whenever he took a bite of the food that had been prepared. Although he did not speak it aloud, his joy was obvious. He really liked Luo Binghe’s cooking!

Unfortunately, he ate very little. Luo Binghe finished the rest, so as to not make not-Shizun feel awkward. Perhaps if he had cultivated as much as Shizun, he did not like to eat too much food? He would need to keep this in mind for the future.

“Would it trouble Luo Binghe to escort this master to his home?” Not-Shizun asked him, and of course he accepted immediately, even if he knew the real Shizun would dislike him once again getting so close to where he lived.

The journey was quiet, and not-Shizun did not speak, so Luo Binghe obliged by saying nothing as well. Before he was ready for it, they were at the door to the bamboo house.

“Hm,” Not-Shizun said as he moved to open it. He looked at Luo Binghe for a long moment before saying, “Come inside. This master has something to give you.”

Luo Binghe followed him inside eagerly. Not-Shizun shut the door, and they were alone together in Shizun’s home. Luo Binghe’s gaze swept the area, mad with curiosity. But he stilled as his ears caught the barely there chuckle on not-Shizun’s lips as he noticed Luo Binghe’s interest. His heart thundered in his chest as he replayed the sound over and over again in his head.

Not-Shizun walked over to a near bookshelf, looked it over, and then left it. He then took light steps to the side room, where there was visibly a small bed. Luo Binghe stayed at the front door, not moving a single muscle, but he watched after him in wonder. ‘Is that where he sleeps? So he does live here, then. The window I saw him through was his own.’

“Here we go…” Not-Shizun muttered to himself, pulling out an old book from a chest. It was only upon his approach that Luo Binghe realized he was still holding this disciple’s manual in one of his hands. The man had brought it all the way here? How had he missed that? At the very least, he could have carried it for him!

But before those thoughts could get too far, not-Shizun was holding the other book before him. It too looked like a cultivation manual, but one that was aged and made of more delicate paper. Old, yet of a good quality.

Luo Binghe looked between this new book and not-Shizun’s face, bewildered.

“Your manual’s techniques are… less than ideal for your particular use. You may have my copy instead. It isn't as new, but it should suffice.”

Not this master’s copy.

My copy.

The manual belonged to not-Shizun, almost certainly. It had been the very one he used himself.

Luo Binghe took it reverently, careful in his grip as he accepted it, before hugging it to his chest. “This disciple wishes to express his utmost gratitude! Nothing this disciple can do will ever be enough to repay Shizun's generosity!”

“Yes, yes…” Not-Shizun said, words warm. He put his fan up before his face, like he was hiding from him again. “Now, run along and practice. The absence of your shixiong is a good time to study, hm?”

“Yes, Shizun! This disciple will, Shizun!” He blurted, for a moment confusing in his own head that this nameless man was not actually his true Shizun, but instead pretending to be Shen Qingqiu, his real Shizun. He felt some shame, but how different would his life be if this were the one who taught him?

“Alright, good. Now go,” not-Shizun said, shooing him off.

Luo Binghe obediently did as he was told. He raced down the stone steps, cradling his new manual and blinking away the tears that kept welling up in his eyes.

Chapter Text

Upon Shen Qingqiu’s return from Shuang Hu City, Shen Yuan sat him down and poured him tea.

And then he opened with:

“Jiu-ge… don’t be angry.”

Shen Qingqiu’s posture, which had communicated ‘what a relief it is to be home’, changed dramatically as his eyes went wide. He had been at peace, cup halfway to his mouth, but he froze as his gaze became daggers that said, ‘I was gone two days.’

“What did you do?” He said, his words weighted with authoritative tension.

“I left our home dressed as you in order to explore the peak,” Shen Yuan confessed easily, attempting to look perfectly ashamed of himself. And he was, just a bit. After all, his brother treated him well, and he had no reason to betray his trust in such a fashion.

Instead of explosive rage, however, Shen Qingqiu’s lips pressed together in a thin line. “And?”

Shen Yuan blinked at him. “What?”

“And,” Shen Qingqiu repeated, sounding agitated, “what did A-Yuan think of it?”

Oh? Oh.

This Shen Qingqiu was a ruthless, prideful man, but he coddled his younger twin and relished being called Jiu-ge. This was all about face! He wanted to know if he had lost face in front of his brother! Who knew when the last time Shen Yuan had seen the area was? Or if he’d really even experienced it much at all?

Well, this was an easy thing to answer. Of course Shen Yuan had thought it amazing. It was his very first glimpse at bonafide xianxia setting!

“A-Yuan found it impressive and well-kept,” Shen Yuan answered, and the enthusiasm in his voice was far from forced. Sure, this world was minimalist compared to his prior one, but he knew quality when he saw it. “And the view was incredible, as expected!”

Shen Qingqiu may have, just maybe, sat up a little straighter. Was that smugness, big bro? What is this sudden onset of gap moe? What kind of villain are you? If the protagonist sees you like this, you’d keep your limbs I bet! Think about it, alright?

“So, Jiu-ge isn’t… upset?”

“No, I am upset,” Shen Qingqiu told him, and there was a line of frost to his words. But he wilted after speaking them, and he finally took a sip of his tea. “Yet it is not unexpected that… A-Yuan may feel an urge to wander. Especially since he has been feeling more lively as of late.”

Shen Yuan was uncertain if this was about how restless he acted, pacing at times and even requesting things like books, or if the previous Shen Yuan had just been too unwell to manage the energy for those things. He didn’t dare probe further. He wasn’t sure he’d like the answer.

“At the very least, you chose an auspicious time,” Shen Qingqiu mollified himself. “The peak was empty, after all.”

Of course, that wasn’t to say it was defenseless. He suspected more wards were placed around Qing Jing Peak than all the other peaks combined.

Regardless, he winced at this assertion.

“I…” He began, then hesitated. “A-Yuan did encounter someone.”

Immediately, Shen Qingqiu’s face flashed with anger. “Who? Who dared to trespass while I was away?”

“No, it… was your own disciple,” Shen Yuan said slowly. “Luo Binghe.”

He watched closely as his brother’s face did several things in quick succession, too fast for him to name the emotions. The changes were minute, but a little could easily say a lot when it came to Shen Qingqiu.

Instead of waiting for a response, Shen Yuan cut in with, “Why did you leave him on the peak? Were you not planning to take all your disciples?”

It seemed this was the right way to go, because his brother settled a little as if direction helped him come to terms with whatever was broiling inside his chest. “His cultivation is practically nonexistent. This master prefers not to bury disciples.”

Oh. Huh. That’s… oddly considerate, isn’t it?

“If his ability is lacking, why did Jiu-ge take him?” Shen Yuan ventured, driven by a reader’s insufferable curiosity.

Shen Qingqiu seemed aggrieved by the line of questioning. “His potential is immense. It is his progression that is abysmal.”

And then a small dam broke, loosing a trickle of complaints.

“That disciple chooses to make mockery of my teachings, and many of his peers have clearly seen it, too. If he has no intent to learn, then he should leave, but at the slightest hint of casting him out, he begs and does all that is demanded of him. I cannot educate him and I cannot be rid of him. Does the beast truly only exist to lose me reputation?”

Shen Qingqiu’s dark expression changed to one of mourning as his eyes met Shen Yuan’s.

“Of all the disciples for you to encounter, I would hope he would be the last.”

Wait, wait, wait! What was with this monologuing? What was with this exposition? Really, brother, just a little push and you say that much? Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky, did you really screw this guy over that much or does having a sibling soften even a cold-hearted villain? Which is it?

It was impossible to imagine the man before him leaving his twin long enough to step foot in a brothel. And seeking affection from Ning Yingying could likely be crossed off the list of evil deeds too. When would he have the time, when he always returned home so quickly?

Well, no matter how messed up this storyline was, it was obvious what he had to do.

“Ah,” Shen Yuan said. And then he stood up. “Please wait.”

He went to his room and returned with Luo Binghe’s very much extremely wrong cultivation manual. That the child hadn’t died from following the methods within was surely only due to the protagonist’s built-in invulnerability.

Shen Yuan sat and placed the book down, pushing it across the surface for his twin to examine. At first Shen Qingqiu simply stared at it, uncomprehending.

“Is this the boy’s manual?” He asked, and there was venom in his voice. “Why does A-Yuan have it? What is the meaning of showing it to me?”

“Jiu-ge, open it,” Shen Yuan said.

Shen Qingqiu wordlessly obeyed him and picked it up, flipping through the pages. It was easy to identify the exact moment he noticed the dangerous errors. He began to sift through the book more quickly, and, honestly? Shen Yuan had never seen him more pissed!

Which, yes, was only three months of interacting with him. But still!

“Who wrote—,” Shen Qingqiu exhaled, throaty and borderline demonic. And then he snarled. “Ming Fan?”

Shen Yuan quickly moved to his brother’s side of the table to grab his arm, just in case Shen Qingqiu decided that his most entrusted disciple should be shaped into a future revenge murderer instead of Luo Binghe. “Jiu-ge, listen. Listen to A-Yuan. Enough punishments.”

Shen Qingqiu shook his head. “You do not understand. How am I— How is this master supposed to face that miserable child now? Or the other peak lords? I have been utterly disgraced.”

“Can this one suggest a remedy?”

“Speak,” Shen Qingqiu barked, in a tone that said he very much thought there wasn’t one.

“I would like to teach him.”

Shen Qingqiu didn’t so much as gape, but his expression went rigid and his skin lost some of its color. “But, A-Yuan is…”

“The former peak master named us as both acting lord so that I could leave the position of disciple,” Shen Yuan reminded him. After all, if something happened to his brother, Shen Yuan would have to endure the power struggle for the position or remain a disciple under another peak lord. It was this detail that first informed him how utterly different this world was from the canon he knew.

If this was the novel’s Shen Qingqiu, he would have huffed and puffed, outright refusing. Yet this Shen Qingqiu just looked bitter, like the world had foisted upon him a banquet of his least favorite foods.

“I dread to imagine how he interpreted your behavior as you gallivanted around in my clothing,” Shen Qingqiu said after a long bout of thinking. He seemed on the verge of clutching his head. “At this point, the very image of his face instinctively fills my entire soul with fury. I suppose…”

Shen Yuan held his breath.

“I suppose if A-Yuan can straighten the boy out, I can pass him off to you. It should be a simple matter, and it saves me the trouble.”

Success! Incredible, undeniable success! Crisis averted! Family—and family jewels—saved! There was no way Luo Binghe could become the black wolf, black lotus, heavenly demon of fucking and killing now, right?

Well, he still would, but at least he was less likely to murder his poor shizun!

“The conditions will need to be worked out. Namely, he must study here. He must know you are not myself. He must abide by strict secrecy regarding your presence. And you will be forbidden from showcasing any advanced techniques without my supervision.”

Shen Yuan nodded. Okay, okay, all reasonable so far.

“As well, I intend to correct Ming Fan’s behavior if he is, indeed, the author of this text.”

Shen Yuan blanched. Well, he couldn’t win them all.

“Now, if you are well and truly done springing unpleasantness upon me, I would like to rest.”

“A-Yuan will let you be,” Shen Yuan said, and maybe he was playing up the cute little brother thing a bit much today, but this whole negotiation was important. He needed to use everything he had!

He moved to stand, but then another thought snagged him, and he turned just as his brother picked up his fan.

“Oh, that’s right. I also encountered Liu-shidi, so he may have a strange impression of you the next time you meet.”

Shen Yuan hurried out of the room after he heard the guard of his brother’s fan snap.

***

Luo Binghe was staring at two identical copies of Shen Qingqiu.

Well, no. Not quite. One man was Shizun, and he was doing his best to ignore him as returned to the seat at the table in his home—a home that Luo Binghe was now standing in, for some reason.

And that fact must have had to do with not-Shizun, who regarding him from where he also sat at the table. His robes were not the casual ones of their first meeting, nor were they Shizun’s borrowed outfit. Instead, he was dressed in something elegant and white, with dark grey inner robes visible at the collar. He reminded Luo Binghe of something pretty, like a flower or a bird.

Luo Binghe, who had sprinted here after Ming Fan informed him of the summons, saluted.

“Shizun,” he said, careful to direct it at the right person, “this disciple is present and ready.”

For… whatever it was that was happening. He hesitated to believe it was going to be anything painful. After all, Shizun had never punished him at his home before. And with not-Shizun here, he wondered if the man’s presence stayed his hand.

“From today, I am no longer your shizun,” Shen Qingqiu said idly, paying more attention to scraping his tea leaves than to the horrible shock Luo Binghe experienced.

But the tremors of rejection that started to quiver in him were short-lived.

“Don’t scare him like that,” not-Shizun said quietly, shooting no-longer-Shizun a displeased look. Then his eyes flicked back to Luo Binghe, and he gave him a thin smile. It was still jarring to see such emotion on a face he didn’t expect it from.

Not-Shizun cleared his throat.

“What has been said is true,” he confessed, and then rushed on to say, “as this master will take over the role of your shizun.”

Luo Binghe’s heart felt as if it might burst.

“Who—,” he began, forgetting his manners, “Who are you?”

Shen Qingqiu, no longer his shizun, spared him a warning look. But all he said was, “See? Even this child could understand you make for a pale imitation.”

Not-Shizun—

Who was now Shizun—

Blinked at that.

“Hm, well,” now-Shizun said, “that was then, and this is now.”

He offered Luo Binghe a welcoming look.

“This master is Shen Yuan, also Lord of Qing Jing Peak.”

“Also?” Luo Binghe said.

“This peak has two lords—a primary and secondary. Does Luo Binghe find this disagreeable?”

He shook his head fervently. He wanted to ask why. What did this change mean? Had one lord rejected him only for another to take him on out of pity? As happy as he was, the questions burned inside his throat.

“You must be wondering why the sudden change in appointment,” his new shizun continued, as if reading his mind. Was Luo Binghe truly that easy to read? “Due to your… specific situation, it has been decided that this master is the more appropriate instructor.”

Luo Binghe’s gaze darted to Shen Qingqiu briefly, and while he wasn’t looking at them, it still seemed like he was paying attention to every word and movement.

He looked back at Shizun. Shen Yuan Shizun.

His Shizun. And only his.

Luo Binghe bowed low. “This disciple is unworthy of such care! This disciple will give his all to live up to Shizun’s expectations!”

***

Luo Binghe will live in the spare room of the bamboo house.

Luo Binghe will care for the premises, cooking and cleaning as needed.

Luo Binghe will study under the Qing Jing Peak Lord, Shen Yuan.

Luo Binghe will not speak a word of this lord to outsiders.

Luo Binghe will not leave the premises without permission.

The list went on and on. It was exhaustive.

[+1000 Protagonist Satisfaction Points!]

[+3 Character Complexity for Shen Qingqiu!]

[+2 Character Complexity for Shen Yuan!]

That list went on and on too.

Luo Binghe was currently moving his few belongings into the spare room. It was a detached unit, meant for servants. Shen Qingqiu detested people, and loathed the idea of putting someone in that kind of constant proximity to himself, so it was curious to Shen Yuan that he had even drafted the order in the first place.

“Are you… sure you’re okay with all of this?” Shen Yuan asked his brother, now that they were alone. “I thought you disliked the boy?”

“Hardly,” Shen Qingqiu disagreed. Shen Yuan suspected he was doing it just to be contrary.

He opened his mouth, but his brother spoke first.

“A-Yuan truly doesn’t recall our childhood anymore?”

Shen Yuan froze. Shen Qingqiu’s gaze was piercing as it searched him, filled with emotions that swam under ice. After a pause, he resigned himself to shaking his head in answer.

Two weeks after Shen Yuan had first awoken in this world, his twin had made a comment he didn’t understand. It had been a small thing that he couldn’t remember now, but apparently it had to do with how they had been raised. Divulging nothing, Shen Qingqiu had queried him by asking questions that made no sense without context, and had ultimately determined that his memories of ‘that time’ were completely gone.

The prospect seemed to cause Shen Qingqiu a significant amount of grief. And, even more, relief. He refused to utter a word of it to Shen Yuan, no matter how much he pried.

Perhaps the most worrisome thing to his brother, though, was the implication that… Shen Yuan could forget things. If he forgot their youth, what else would he forget?

Sometimes that fearful sentimentality bubbled up in his twin, unexpected.

“That child… has been robbed of the opportunity to grow to his full potential,” Shen Qingqiu said slowly, like the words were ash on his tongue. He stared at Shen Yuan’s face hard—meaningfully. “And it is my fault.”

Shen Yuan said nothing.

“A-Yuan seems…” Shen Qingqiu searched for a word, looking away from him, “fond of him. Under your hand, serving you, the boy has nothing to worry about.”

Again, Shen Yuan said nothing.

“This master has made too many mistakes. He thought he was done with that, and yet it happened again. It will stop now.” His twin said airily, busying himself with the papers in front of him. “That is all I will say on the matter.”

Well, there was no arguing with that. Shen Yuan didn’t push the issue. After all, what would be the point? He had successfully pried Luo Binghe out from under his brother’s misguided influence.

But…

He wished he knew why he had such a thick lump in his throat.

Chapter Text

When Shen Qingqiu came home in a sour mood, Shen Yuan immediately noticed the way Luo Binghe imperceptibly tensed up in his presence—muscles wound tight, prepared for either prostration or flight. He had been serving Shen Yuan, newly a proper shizun in his own right, tea. The young stallion had only been living near the bamboo house for a couple of days now, and Shen Yuan had given the excuse of needing to prepare his education timeline in order to delay starting his training.

He wanted any hidden injuries Luo Binghe sustained to heal first, was the true reason.

So it was that the protagonist had thus far spent his time cleaning and attending. Which, alright, was not exactly ideal. This sort of thing could spawn grudges too! But, for the time being, Shen Yuan kept his workload as light as he could, giving Luo Binghe simple tasks that wouldn’t overly exert him. Sadly, it seemed the radiant child glowed under this, as if he was on some kind of glamorous vacation. What a horrible life he must have led so far.

Shen Qingqiu dutifully ignored Luo Binghe whenever he was around, never so much as looking in his direction. But, oddly, Shen Yuan had never noticed the boy to show any discomfort about this.

It seemed his anger was still something that inspired trepidation, though…

Hm, well. Things would be okay now, Luo Binghe. Your nice shizun is here to wrangle this uncharacteristically soft villain for you! Let’s go into the future with nothing but graciousness and well-wishes!

“Bad day?” Shen Yuan asked conversationally, breaking the crackling silence with such nonchalance that he could see Luo Binghe relaxing just slightly.

That’s right, my duckling! Hide behind me! I’m bigger and older.

“This is your fault,” Shen Qingqiu spat at him, all hiss and no bite. A look of disgust took over his elegant features. “That Bai Zhan idiot approached me today, with nothing but words of accusation and poor temper.”

“Mm,” Shen Yuan hummed. He could imagine it, considering his brief interaction with the man. “And? What did you say?”

“That is of little importance,” Shen Qingqiu dismissed with a hand motion, like that information was inconsequential.

Shen Yuan realized suddenly that apparently the conversation itself wasn’t the source of his irritation.

“A-Yuan is forbidden from interacting with that insolent brute in the future. Am I understood?” Shen Qingqiu continued haughtily, sitting down across from Shen Yuan in a way that was far from delicate. The man rapped his fan on the table like he was itching to beat something and shot Luo Binghe a sharp look. “Tea. Now.”

“A- ah, yes, Shen-shibo…”

“Careful,” Shen Yuan warned pleasantly. “That’s my disciple now.”

Shen Qingqiu shot him a look that clearly said the period appropriate version of a very sarcastic ‘whatever’, but he blessedly skipped the lecture on appropriate hosting behavior. After all, disciples serving guests tea was par for the course under the guidance of a good master.

Still, the acknowledgment of Luo Binghe, while rough… was kind of refreshing? It was all harmless yowling, and Shen Qingqiu took the tea with no gratitude, but at least he didn’t press any further into the realm of spite and cruelty. It seemed as if he really just wanted tea to soothe his nerves and wasn’t afraid to make a loud demand for it in front of someone who was privy to all of their secrets.

In other words, now that the cat was out of the bag regarding Shen Yuan’s existence, Shen Qingqiu had no intent to uphold any kind of appearance within the realm of his own home. Luo Binghe was permitted to see him as he was, much like a household servant.

“So, why is this one barred from speaking to Liu-shidi?” Shen Yuan probed. Did the man go to the caves already and get injured? And now he blamed Shen Qingqiu out of suspicion due to his cryptic warnings? It seemed early, but then again, he didn’t know exactly when in the original canon the guy had secluded himself.

Shen Qingqiu just made a scoffing noise, like he didn’t want to talk about it.

Then he started to tell him anyway.

“Whatever kindness A-Yuan doled out to him, he spits on in turn,” Shen Qingqiu complained.

“I wasn’t acting sweetly to him. I was posing as you,” Shen Qingqiu reminded him. What kindness? Not letting Liu Qingge kill himself? That was a low bar, brother!

“As I said,” Shen Qingqiu stated firmly, not to be moved. He wasn’t even insulted by being called unkind; when it came to Liu Qingge, he was likely proud of it. Such a thing couldn’t move his heart. And he knew very well that Shen Yuan thought of him as loving, so it was probably just that no one else’s opinion mattered to him.

Which, again, was painfully cute in a strange way?

Shen Yuan subtly glanced at Luo Binghe without moving his head, and saw the boy watching his twin with barely concealed interest, his eyes wide.

[+50 Protagonist Satisfaction Points!]

[+5 Character Complexity for Shen Qingqiu!]

[+15 Reputation Points with Protagonist for Shen Qingqiu!]

Huh…?

Shen Yuan feigned interest in drinking his tea as he read the points log. That couldn’t be right, could it? System, that was a lot of points. What the hell was going on inside the protagonist’s head to warrant them all?

As usual, the system said nothing. In his experience, it barely ever spoke except to dole out points. Shen Yuan decided to put the matter out of his head. Good things were good things, right?

So, this was definitely a step in the right direction.

System? Dearest System? What are my total point values, anyway? Can I see?

At first he thought it wasn’t going to respond, but after a moment a list finally began to fill out, line by line.

[Protagonist Satisfaction Points: 1150]

[Character Complexity: Shen Qingqiu [+10], Shen Yuan [+2]…]

[Reputation: Shen Qingqiu [5], Shen Yuan [50]…]

[Provide full character list for individuals not in current scene?]

Ah, no. This would be fine, thanks.

The numbers didn’t totally take him by surprise. He wasn’t entirely sure, but it seemed like the satisfaction points referred both to Luo Binghe’s satisfaction and the unseen reading audience’s. At least, in theory. Scenes that fulfilled a desire were measures of satisfaction and bigger was better, right? Although, who knew if just over a thousand was anything notable? He had no broader context for what he was aiming for there. Oh well.

The character complexity seemed reasonable. Shen Qingqiu was definitely infinitely more difficult to understand than Shen Yuan himself. At least his brother was getting a bit of spotlight.

The reputation, on the other hand…

System, what’s the reputation part mean?

[Reputation is the measurement of how high the protagonist’s regard is for other characters. It ranges from -100 to 100.]

Shen Yuan stared at the stats for a long time.

His brother had worked his way up to five points somehow.

Wasn’t that… borderline apathy?

Shen Yuan perked up at this. For all intents and purposes, Luo Binghe should have loathed Shen Qingqiu. If negative one hundred was eternal torment in the pits of the deepest dungeon, and zero was disinterest, then should he not have been around at least negative thirty? After all, the boy was still young and bright-eyed, and he had yet to be pushed into any gaping canyons of hellfire. So, moderate dislike to mild hatred, even if simmering unnoticed under the surface of the half-demon’s skin, sounded about right.

Apathy, though?

Apparently, things were going a lot better than Shen Yuan had thought!

***

“You may no longer be my pupil, but I am still a Lord of Qing Jing Peak. For that reason, I will permit your presence in my household under one final condition.”

Luo Binghe’s very first night in his new accommodations, he had found himself pinned down by Shen Qingqiu’s glare as the man stood in his room. A stripe of moonlight illuminated his ferocity as it cut across the darkness.

And his words contained a deadly sharpness.

“You will vow to protect my brother.”

After he left, Luo Binghe had collapsed onto his bed, somehow drained of all energy. Yet, strangely, he felt at ease despite the sudden confrontation. After all, it was effortless to give his word on something he already felt compelled to do—what kind of disciple would fail to sacrifice themselves for their master? Shizun was an esteemed cultivator, with a soft touch and an ethereal air. He existed on an entirely different plane from those around him, his caring nature unblemished by the rigors of a chaotic world. Should someone have told him Shizun was a god descended from the heavens, Luo Binghe would have been inclined to want to believe that person.

However, it was only after a week had passed that he realized there were other reasons for Peak Lord Shen Qingqiu to make such a request of him.

“After this visit from Qi-ge—ah, Zhangmen-shixiong—we can begin your training properly.”

Luo Binghe had been startled to hear Shizun call the sect leader so familiarly, but his focus was quickly driven elsewhere. “This disciple is incompetent and doesn’t understand.”

Luckily, it seemed Shizun knew what he was thinking, even if he only answered with a shake of his head and the words, “Zhangmen-shixiong must be informed of the change in your assignment, is all. Binghe need not give it too much thought.”

At the time, he had been too taken aback to be called familiarly himself to spare even another moment pondering the sect leader’s upcoming visit.

Binghe.

No one had called him that since his late adoptive mother. And as far as he could tell, Shizun didn’t even seem aware of himself when he did it. The name had slipped past his lips with ease. It made Luo Binghe wonder if that was simply because of Shizun’s lifestyle; after all, those he referred to in a close way surrounded the man, with no room for outsiders. And he had no other disciples aside from Luo Binghe.

It was plausible he had never taken a disciple before Luo Binghe.

So, of course, the man would display an unusual set of behaviors. Shizun was an unusual man.

Although the sect leader was coming to visit, neither Shen Qingqiu nor Shizun exhibited any anticipation about the matter. Luo Binghe naturally set to work making things as presentable as possible, and while that earned him begrudging acceptance from the former, the latter reminded him it was a casual event and told him not to overexert himself too much. How could that be, though? It was Sect Leader Yue Qingyuan! The Qiong Ding Peak Lord was undoubtedly the most powerful man of all Cang Qiong Mountain Sect.

When he finally arrived, however, there was little to no fanfare. And on his heels walked Mu Qingfang, the Qian Cao Peak Lord—yet another highly esteemed person.

Luo Binghe was only spared a pair of curious looks before they shooed him off. Shizun pleasantly suggested he go chop some firewood, and so he did. It was easy to understand that they had sent him away in order to talk privately, and he was unsure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

When he returned with a stack of wood in his arms, his ears picked up the light sound of voices. He placed the spliced logs down as quietly as he could in the bamboo house’s small storeroom before sidling closer to the door that led to the kitchen. He didn’t make a habit of eavesdropping, and his conscience rallied against him, but they spoke with tones of urgency and he dreaded it might have to do with him.

“—still re-reading books?” That sounded like Yue Qingyuan.

“Yes,” came Shen Qingqiu’s familiar voice—Shizun’s, but lacking his undercurrent of ever-present warmth. “A-Yuan was so taken with one that he told me about its contents at length. It was… disconcerting, to say the least. It did not come across as a simple review of the material.”

“As if he had never seen it before…”

“Exactly.”

There was a sigh that sounded like Yue Qingyuan. It carried a forlorn note. Luo Binghe stood rigidly, back pressed against the wall, hardly breathing. They were talking about Shizun? And they sounded stressed about the subject. Was something wrong?

“Do you still suspect a qi deviation?” The sect leader didn’t wait for an answer before further asking: “Would it not be a strain on his body to allow him a disciple at this time?”

Luo Binghe’s heart gave a painful thump.

“I don’t know,” Shen Qingqiu said. And then, as if he felt compelled to answer both questions, he repeated himself. “I don’t know.”

There was a vulnerable quiver to his words that made Luo Binghe feel strangely guilty. He would never have suspected the man of having this side, and he was sure that his former-shizun would have been incensed to learn that he’d witnessed it. As cultivators, their abilities far surpassed anything Luo Binghe could dream of, yet they failed to notice his presence at all. It was as if the setting put them off guard, and he was taking advantage of that in order to pry.

“His body is fine, however. In fact, A-Yuan’s livelier than I have seen in years. And his meridians show no sign of recent blockage or damage. It’s just his mind that is gone. It’s as if…”

A hesitation.

“It’s as if, without the weight of his memories, he’s slowly recovering.”

The silence that followed was grave. After a breath, a sorrowful creak came in the form of Yue Qingyuan’s voice, “Xiao-Jiu…”

“Don’t,” Shen Qingqiu warned, but there was no fire to it. “Not now.”

Blood rushed in Luo Binghe’s ears, crowding out any other sounds. He slowly toed his way over to the back door before making a hasty escape for his room. The side unit swallowed him up, cloaking him in shadow as he shut the door and made himself very small in a corner.

Shizun was ill.

Shizun was ill, and he acted strangely, and he failed to remember things he should have, and—

Luo Binghe’s mind flashed to a woman lying in a bed, too weak to raise her head but determined all the same to smile at him no matter how much energy it took her.

He clutched the jade pendant hanging from his neck and… cried. And he was ashamed of it, too. It was as if the winds of fate had determined that the moment someone looked upon him with something other than scorn, they were to be struck down. He had only just barely met Shizun, and yet he felt as if he stood on the threshold of watching him sink down that same dark path, leaving Luo Binghe helpless at his bedside as he deteriorate into ash and left him behind.

Luo Binghe didn’t come out of his room for a while. And, when he did, if Shizun noticed the firewood pile was lower than expected, he never commented on it.

***

Shen Yuan, in both his last life in this one, avidly enjoyed reading.

Well, that was half a lie. What he really enjoyed was fantastic adventures, gruesome monsters, and dramatic intrigue. And, to a lesser extent, romance. It was satisfying to see protagonists win over the objects of their desire, but often the story arcs felt predictable. And once a bond of unbreakable love had been established, authors liked to upturn the inkwell and pad their work with innumerable, meaningless sex scenes. So, in the end, he had grown somewhat resentful of that part of any tale.

Yet all of this criticism left him with was a very handy skill: a proper level of reasonable expectation. And such a tool was useful when hurriedly slapping together something resembling ‘Youth’s First Days of Cultivation’.

The way he saw it, Luo Binghe needed little tutoring. As a protagonist, he would grasp things all on his own with just the slightest nudge. It was why the stallion’s swordwork had far outpaced his spiritual level. One he could observe and one he couldn’t.

All Shen Yuan needed to do was patiently guide him and Luo Binghe would do the rest on his own, he thought.

And he was absolutely right.

Luo Binghe was like a child who knew only half the characters with which to write, or half the numbers, and just needed the missing pieces pointed out to him in order to combine it all. Shen Yuan was performing the cultivation equivalent of teaching year one addition and subtraction.

Easy. Luo Binghe’s first week had him flying through the material. Sometimes Shen Yuan would move to demonstrate a simple technique, like floating a leaf with the power of spiritual energy alone, and his disciple would hurry to execute it first before he could so much as raise his hands.

Shen Yuan couldn’t really be prideful over this, but he was unashamedly proud of the haloed protagonist for being so easy. Hopefully, he would never look back on these days and think, ‘Shizun barely did anything! It was all me! I should off the useless person who took credit for all my talent!’

Hopefully.

In no time at all, they came to the first rest day in Luo Binghe’s training.

“Would Shizun like me to prepare something for him?” The boy asked, like a seedling that swerved to face the sun in desire of praise. Shen Yuan felt he was being treated akin to livestock, which needed fattening up for butchering. Worse, he often accepted. After all, who would dare turn down the main character’s incredible cooking? If he eventually died by his hands, at least he wanted to eat his fill first. That much he would gladly bear the burden of resentment for.

But this time, Shen Yuan turned him down.

“Ah, no. This master is fine. Binghe—,”

He cut himself off and delicately cleared his throat.

“I mean, Luo Binghe. If you could please retrieve the book from my desk, I have something to show you.”

Luo Binghe dutifully padded into the side room and returned with a thick tome bound by a ragged red cover. He took care in handing it over to him, but there was a frown playing at his lips. “This humble disciple would be honored if Shizun continued to call him ‘Binghe’.”

He spoke in even measure, with a quiet urging laced into his tone.

“Continue?” Shen Yuan asked.

“Shizun has called this disciple ‘Binghe’ since Sect Leader’s visit,” Luo Binghe said, his stare containing an intensity that seemed suitable for a half-demon. It was like a predator observing its prey.

Shen Yuan felt his face flare with heat. He did what?

Since when?

He snapped up the black and white fan his brother had now forced onto him—‘I don’t want anyone seeing this and getting strange ideas after you’ve used it.’—and made a poorly concealed attempt to hide his face. “Well, how foolish of this old master. In that case, if he wishes it, Binghe shall remain Binghe.”

“Shizun doesn’t seem that old,” Luo Binghe commented, meanwhile brightening at the concession. “This disciple thinks Shizun comes across as a wise nobleman of courting age.”

That is what he focused on? Well, it was true, so he found no insult in the observation. As an immortal, he was incredibly young. But what was that about courtship? Luo Binghe, you are fourteen! Are you already looking at your surroundings and picking out your harem members at this age, white lotus? Don’t worry, this shizun has no intention to compete!

“Neither here nor there,” Shen Yuan dismissed, grateful for the fan in front of his face. “This master seeks no woman’s hand.”

Luo Binghe’s head tipped to the side as he stared at him, assessing.

No, really, I do not want your Ning Yingying! Take her, please!

“So,” Shen Yuan aggressively changed the subject, “what does Binghe know about demons?”

There was a stretch of hesitation before Luo Binghe’s eyes caught on him opening the book that had been sent for. Shen Yuan thumbed through the bestiary, searching for a specific page.

“… Demons are abhorrent, violent beings that vary in appearance,” Luo Binghe said distractedly, like he wasn’t giving the matter much thought. “They are the enemy of all humans.”

Well, that wasn’t a great start. It was damage control time, and it seemed like he had his work cut out for him.

“Sit beside this shizun,” Shen Yuan invited, and Luo Binghe slowly moved to sit next to him at the low table. “Does this entity look ‘abhorrent’ to you?”

On the page was an illustration of an eight-eyed swancock. It had the lengthy, delicate neck of a swan, two sets of four blazing red eyes, and a large peacock’s tail.

“Yes,” Luo Binghe answered after looking at it.

Shen Yuan reflexively exhaled a laugh, which caused his disciple to jump. He patted the boy’s shoulder. “It’s okay. There is no wrong answer. However, let this master explain this beast’s value in greater detail…”

He pointed out the bird demon’s plumage.

“It is a demonic tradition to bequeath a bouquet of these tail feathers to a new spouse, to example one’s strength and intent for a harmonious marriage. As well,” he indicated the body, “once plucked, its skin is coated in scales that, when ground up, are oft used in skin-cleansing medicines.”

He held his tongue on the matter of all of these body parts being burnable for an airborne aphrodisiac affect, which is why he recalled this overgrown chicken from the original work with such clarity. Its use as a cheap plot device to inspire certain activities went without saying.

“Because of the overwhelming demand for their parts, the beasts have grown fearsome in order to survive,” Shen Yuan added. “And they mate for life. When one perishes, the other will waste away with grief. Due to this weakness, they often fight to the death in pairs.”

Overall, a suitably romantic demonic creature.

Luo Binghe looked unhappy. “So if one sacrifices itself to protect its mate, then the act is meaningless. The mate dies anyway.”

Ah. Cute. Shen Yuan smiled vaguely.

“Sacrifice is not something to be taken lightly,” he told Luo Binghe. “It may seem noble to the inexperienced, but… if you care for someone to that extent, then you must also care enough not to leave them to suffer the aftermath alone.”

“What if there is no alternative?” Luo Binghe challenged.

Shen Yuan shrugged. “That sort of thing is what one calls a tragedy.”

His disciple turned thoughtful. After some silence, he said, “Shizun really likes demons.”

It was a statement of fact. And it was true. Shen Yuan was amused to see Luo Binghe’s unnatural perceptiveness in action. “Shizun does, yes.”

Luo Binghe frowned at him. “Why?”

Shen Yuan just flipped to a new page. This demon on this one was higher level, and thus more humanoid. Unlike the swancock, it was quite hideous, with the head shape of a horse covered in hanging, furry skin. Its eyes bulged. He had to refrain from laughing again when Luo Binghe’s expressed became stricken.

“Did you know this one has an incredible singing voice?” Shen Yuan asked, barely able to contain his mirth. “It’s called a warbling mare. They’re all female, and they often come to the human realm and transform into a horse-like shape to infiltrate a stable or blend in with a herd. They sing songs to lure humans to them, and they also sing songs that drive normal horses mad. Using this combination, the victims are pummeled beneath the herd’s hooves. They especially delight in eating trampled humans while they’re still alive and awake, as they consider human screams to be a form of singing.”

“Shizun, that’s horrible,” Luo Binghe balked, pale.

“It is,” Shen Yuan agreed. “I would kind of like to see one, though.”

“This disciple fails to understand,” the boy said, although it sounded pretty close to a complaint. “How can Shizun like such terrible things?”

“Alright, then this master will tell you about one more, which is not in this book,” Shen Yuan said.

Luo Binghe gave him his full attention.

“It is a creature with mad eyes and blade-like claws. It is adept at learning to shriek like a human infant, and it terrorizes its environment by killing lesser beasts for sport. If left unattended, the things breed aggressively, like a plague. It is nearly impossible to be rid of them.”

Beside him, Luo Binghe looked both enthralled and wary. “What demon is that, Shizun?”

“A common cat,” Shen Yuan told him.

Luo Binghe blinked. Then he actually pouted. “This disciple… feels tricked.”

It was kind of hilarious how he could admit that so readily, yet still sound hesitant about accidentally offending his shizun.

“Good. That is because this master tricked Binghe,” he agreed. “The point is, one should never judge the ways of another, as it pertains to good or evil. There are men who are worse than the lowliest of demons, and there are demons who have the virtue of a divine being.”

Luo Binghe looked dubious.

“If this master were ever to meet one of those gallant demons, he would definitely be interested in forging close relations,” Shen Yuan added airily, in a tone he knew screamed, ‘I’m not talking about anything specific, but if I were…’

His disciple sputtered, apparently too taken aback by the idea of his shizun forming an alliance with a member of demonkind to speak properly. Shen Yuan patted his back, empathetic.

“Anyway, has Binghe ever seen a mother ghost-head spider?” He continued, thumbing through the book again. After all, the whole I-won’t-reject-you-if-you’re-a-demon seed had been planted, so it was best to move on quickly before he said anything too suspicious. “They’re enormous, and they looked like bloated, headless pregnant women.”

Luo Binghe spoke little for the rest of the impromptu lesson on demons, but at least Shen Yuan found himself thoroughly entertained by the session.

It was perhaps unfortunate that he had begun reflexively muting his System notifications during bouts of one-on-one lecturing, as it never relayed to him the day’s log unless he specifically requested it. For this reason, Shen Yuan was largely unaware of the profound repercussions of this convivial conversation.

Chapter Text

Things fell into a comfortable routine after a while.

Most days began with a morning lecture, followed by midday form practice. After, Luo Binghe was to divvy up the rest of his time between meditation and chores. If he had excess energy to burn, Shen Yuan gave him simple endurance tasks, like lap running. Now that the boy was under his care he was eating fuller meals, so it seemed prudent to take advantage of that by increasing his physical ability. Becoming a handsome, broad-shouldered heavenly demon wouldn’t just burst out of nowhere.

As well, the novel’s next major event was the demon invasion of the Cang Qiong Peaks. Shen Yuan hesitated to guess how that might pan out, given that Luo Binghe was unlikely to be naturally drawn into the fray, but it would be careless of him not to exercise caution. Luo Binghe’s match up had initially given the poor boy a heap of trouble due to his cultivation setbacks. While a triumphant underdog victory was satisfying for the reader, Shen Yuan’s body screamed: Unfair! Unfair! Child endangerment!

Yet this wasn’t the story’s original path. Luo Binghe was staying at the bamboo house and rarely left it. The risk that he might simply miss the entire invasion as he stuck to Shen Yuan’s side was rather high.

Curious what his options were, he attempted to seek some information on the matter from a certain omnipotent entity.

‘System? Is there… anything in particular I need to do about that whole thing?’

At first, he received no answer.

‘System? Hello? You there?’

Finally, it responded with a completely unhelpful: [User is acting within character perimeters and is free to determine the route for optimal point farming.]

After that, it refused to answer him when pressed, so Shen Yuan gave up. It didn’t seem to have much of a personality, but he could only wonder if months of languidly ignoring it had put it in a foul mood.

It was just that, the lack of objectives made little sense. Shen Yuan had died furious at the original story, and the System had dragged him here with the limited reasoning of: ‘If you want to fix it so badly, then go ahead. But I’ll kill you if you do a poor job.’

After that, it just sort of… fucked off entirely.

Shen Yuan had read transmigration stories involving systems before, but he’d always assumed a passive system was just the writer wanting to self-insert or something. What were the stakes, if there weren’t rules forcing someone’s hand? Writer-bro! Author-bro! Just admit you want to run away from your life and do a reincarnation story instead!

Well, it wasn’t worth getting worked up over. After all, wasn’t freedom a good thing? Sure, if the System popped up randomly at some point and made him do something, he’d be so unused to it that it’d come as a tremendous shock. But, that sort of abrupt change of character would also startle readers into a rage, so he had his doubts about that ever happening.

Truth be told, there was one looming threat hanging over his head despite all of this—if the story sucked, he was a dead man.

Ahaha…

The System was maybe more unpleasant than he gave it credit for. Freedom? What freedom! Shen Yuan had all the freedom of a kid being forced to drive his drunk uncle’s truck, head barely high enough to see over the wheel! This was negligence, was what it was!

It was enough to make him choke up a lungful of blood.

Shen Yuan wasn’t idle, however. He was properly training his disciple with all the care and tenderness of a kindly cultivator.

Except for today, that was. Today was just too hot to bother.

Shen Yuan felt as if he could melt into his robes and Shen Qingqiu, his dear twin, was in an even worse mood than normal. Yet Luo Binghe somehow experienced no discomfort with the rise in temperature.

The young disciple had rejected his shizun’s suggestion to go down the peak and see his sect peers. However, his lingering around the bamboo house with nothing to do clearly made him antsy. So, eventually Shen Yuan relented and gave him the fairly easy, time consuming task of tidying up his personal room.

This was an excellent choice, too, as Luo Binghe stayed safely out of the sun’s overbearing glare and thoughtfully put his entire focus into his every action. His movements were slow and careful as he handled Shen Yuan’s things, minimizing his sweat and exertion.

For a while, it was nothing but Shizun, Shizun, Shizun. Where do I put this? What do I do with that? What is this? How should I sort this?

Shen Yuan felt a little bad allowing him to do everything on his own while he just sat and watched, fanning himself and drinking a cool glass of water. Yet any time he got up to help, Luo Binghe fussed until he sat back down again.

So, it just went on like this.

At one point, Luo Binghe found a small mirror stashed away in Shen Yuan’s trunk, which he had mentally named ‘box of miscellaneous objects’. In other words, a repository for all the items he didn’t quite know what to do with. The boy looked at it, mesmerized by the glossy surface and the sterling silver frame inlaid with flecks of precious white gems.

“Shizun, this mirror is so pretty!” Luo Binghe enthused. Shen Yuan could understand his excitement. After all, it was a lot like a compact mirror from his old world, and it had a far superior reflection than the typical bronze mirrors of this setting.

The boy walked over to him to show him, as if Shen Yuan had never seen it before. It was cute of him.

“What does it do?” He asked.

“Do?” Shen Yuan said, taking it from his outstretched fingers for observation. Looking into it, all it did was reflect the image before it. “Ah, this object is just a normal—,”

“The item is a spiritual conduit,” came a biting voice and Shen Yuan looked behind him with mild alarm. His brother was standing in the entrance to his side room, imperious.

“Yes,” Shen Yuan agreed without missing a beat, continuing to fan himself. “That.”

Warn a person before you make a dramatic entrance like that, big bro!

“What is a spiritual conduit?” Luo Binghe asked with big, interested eyes. Child you are tempting fate! But! I also want to know too!

Shen Yuan looked at Shen Qingqiu expectantly. Take it away, brother! You have the floor and we’re all ears.

His twin gave him a sour look, but obliged.

“A spiritual conduit bridges the gap between spiritual entities,” he said, every word pinched like he hated having to explain it. “This is useful for several reasons. It allows for a safer transfer of qi to someone who is weakened or experiencing a qi deviation. And a user can easily extract qi from sources that have no cognizance, such as plant life. It is, largely, a healing device.”

Suddenly, Shen Yuan was acutely aware of what the item in his hand was for. After waking for the first time in this strange land, he had found the mirror at his bedside. He hadn’t given it too much thought, but…

It was likely Shen Qingqiu had used it to ease his sudden onset of fever, avoiding causing him further bodily strain.

Without waiting for a reaction, his brother spoke again.

“A-Yuan used to rely on it to siphon energy from the bamboo and reduce the stone tiger tree’s threat level,” Shen Qingqiu said, with a thick coat of talking around the issue of his twin’s missing memory to his face. “However, he doesn’t seem to need to replenish his qi that way anymore.”

And then the man turned and left, as abruptly as he had come.

***

A limitless expanse of powdery, golden fog surrounded Luo Binghe. His feet were bare, cushioned by soft grasses. The air had a sweet, nature smell to it, as though he’d decided to take a stroll through a glade on an early spring morning.

With nothing else to do, he walked.

And he walked some more.

His breath never faltered and his legs never became weary. Eventually, though, he arrived at the edge of the grasslands and before him stretched dry, cracked earth. Barren.

It was as if heaven had splashed a basin of water onto this strange land, brightening one wild spot with lushness while the outer world suffered from thirst.

Luo Binghe didn’t relish the idea of exploring the wasteland before him. Brief breaks in the fog showed an endless, desolate path.

He turned around, but he only took a few steps before he noticed the golden air swirl around a form. Luo Binghe could just make out a figure, and he jolted into a run as he realized it was an all too familiar one.

“Shizun!” He called, darting forward so suddenly he nearly tripped over his own feet.

Part of him expected the man to vanish into the glowing mist, as if he was nothing more than a mirage, but he remained. As Luo Binghe drew closer, his silhouette became clearer, until he was standing right before him. This close, it was as if the gold fog had loosely swaddled the two of them in a dusty blanket.

Idly, Shizun gave his head a pat as he surveyed the area, confused.

“Where is this, Shizun?” Luo Binghe asked. “What’s happening?”

“I… believe this is a dream realm,” he answered. And then he looked at him and amended, “Your dream realm.”

He appeared openly confused, if the pinch between his brows was any indication.

“If this is a dream realm, does that mean you’re not real?” Luo Binghe asked.

“No, this master is very real,” Shizun said. The pinch between his brows deepened before he sighed and it vanished entirely with a shake of his head. The man gave him a small smile. “It appears Binghe has drawn him into a world within a world. Perhaps it was our physical proximity? I admit, it is not what I would have expected.”

Luo Binghe shuffled on his bare feet and wondered if Shizun was referring to the arid wasteland. Had he seen it? Did he judge him for having a dream world like that?

“This disciple is useless and asks for Shizun’s punishment,” he said after a moment of thinking. Deep down in his heart, a little treacherously, he knew part of the reason he had offered was because he felt Shizun too soft-hearted to scold him for this unintentional transgression.

“Nonsense,” Shizun said, living up to his expectations. And then, as if the suggestion alone had aggrieved him, he ruffled Luo Binghe’s hair. “This was hardly within your control. No, a demon is pulling the strings here.”

Shizun dropped his hand and turned to walk further into the lushness. It took Luo Binghe a breath to get over the feeling of soft fingers in his hair, so he was delayed in hurrying after him.

“A demon?” Luo Binghe repeated. His shizun had discussed demons with him a few days ago, but the thought of being targeted by one made his blood run cold.

Or, rather, because of what he’d been shown he felt a great deal more fear.

As if in reaction to his emotions, a shadow seemed to slip through the fog, there and then not—some manner of beast slinking unseen.

Shizun clucked his tongue at the sight of the showing. “Strange.”

“What is?” Luo Binghe asked, staying close to his heels.

“That happened because you associate that sort of thing with fear, but if Binghe is feeling fearful… I would have expected a much grander reaction.” Shizun stopped suddenly and Luo Binghe nearly bumped into him. The immortal master looked around. “The construction is very kind this time around.”

“Shizun has been in a realm like this before?” Luo Binghe asked, bubbling with curiosity. Because of his frailness it was likely that he had never traveled, so when could that have possibly been?

“Mm,” he confirmed. “Something of that nature.”

And then Shizun shrugged, as if to himself, and began to walk with long strides again.

“Well, let’s keep going. There should be something of interest within all of this.”

There was.

Together, they walked for a long while before a sound met their ears. It was the light splash of a waterfall, and when they stepped closer, the golden fog parted to reveal a clearing. It was a scene Luo Binghe had never seen before, but it radiated meditative purity: a stream collapsing gently over a vertical slope of rock only to meet a crystal clear pond, a cliff side beyond, and a fiery orange sunset blazing over the cracked earth landscape below.

Shizun produced his fan from his sleeve and lightly fanned his face as he stared at the scene. “Incredible.”

Luo Binghe wondered if he was covering part of his face because he felt embarrassed by his own wonder. “Has Shizun seen this place before?”

He thought he knew the answer, and Shizun confirmed it with a soft, “No.”

Then he looked at Luo Binghe thoughtfully.

“This disciple has never seen it either,” he supplied without being asked.

“So, a raw construction,” Shizun hummed. “Or a memory. Perhaps Meng Mo’s.”

“Meng Mo?”

“The demon controlling your dream realm,” he informed him. “Only someone of that caliber could so deliberately produce this much from nothing. In that case, the monster in the fog was likely his as well.”

Silence swept between them as they both stood there for a while, simply taking in the view, waiting for something to happen. The longer nothing changed, the more tense Shizun became. He looked around, as if impatient.

“Shizun?” Luo Binghe asked, uncertain.

“Nothing,” he said. “It’s nothing. I suppose we’ll just—,”

As if summoned by the lowering of their guard, something launched itself from the fog in a wild pounce. It was an enormous creature with an agile body and clawed paws.

Luo Binghe’s traitorous mind yelled: cat!

Which, no, was not a demon. Even if Shizun had fooled him on the topic.

“Stay behind me!” His shizun said, sweeping forward to block his body from the creature’s view. But Luo Binghe could still see it from his vantage point.

On closer inspection, it looked absolutely nothing like a cat. It had six legs instead of four, and scales instead of fur. Even though its body was graceful, its flat face was pressed into its shoulders as if it had no neck. Drool trickled from its mouth, and when it opened it the tongue inside was long and so thick it could barely push it out from between its teeth.

Luo Binghe, understandably, shuddered.

“A semi-divine emerald lion,” Shizun said, sounding disconcerted.

While it was rare for Luo Binghe to think rude thoughts, his mind viciously yelled, ‘Whoever named this beast was an idiot!’

This distraction was costly, however, because he didn’t even see as the monster flung itself at them. Suddenly Shizun’s blade—a white sword—was out, parrying its claws. And with a great heave, he simply flung it right back.

Pulling a talisman from his robe, Shizun made a motion with his hand and it became many more, all lined before him. Another gesture had them whipping towards the creature with expert precision. Each one hit, and the semi-divine emerald lion roared in pain.

It must have been in more agony than expected, because it shuddered and clawed at itself. Shizun swept forward, taking advantage of the opening to thrust his blade into the spot beneath its chin. There was a moment where all seemed frozen, and then the monster sagged with death.

Shizun extracted his blade cleanly and flicked the blood off. It splattered over the grass and into the pond.

Awe gripped Luo Binghe, and his enthralled mind tumbled over itself with curiosity as to the name of Shizun’s weapon.

“T- that was incredible!” He said, rushing forward.

“Well,” Shizun said, and his tone made it clear he was a little flustered. “This master is at mid-core formation, after all.”

He recalled his sword, the weapon vanishing, and moved to sit down on a jut of stone nearby.

“Curious,” he murmured, staring at the body of the monster. “Almost as if a hunt for sport…”

“Shizun?” Luo Binghe asked, coming to stand beside him.

A pained look flashed across Qing Jing Peak Lord’s face, and with no warning at all, his eyes closed and he slumped. Luo Binghe caught him before he could fall, but the panic in his heart was overwhelming.

“Shizun!”

A deep chuckle sounded in the gold fog, as if from everywhere at once.

Luo Binghe bared his teeth. “What did you do to Shizun!?”

“Me?” The voice said. “Nothing. Your master exhausted his spiritual capacity of his own volition. This elder has even been kind enough to set him at ease in a comfortable dream, and this is the thanks I get?”

He looked down at Shizun’s body in his arms and carefully lowered him to lie on the grass. Although Luo Binghe wasn’t inclined to believe the words of a demon, Shizun had said it had constructed this current dream world with kindness. In honor of that wisdom, he would allow himself to listen to Meng Mo’s words.

“What do you want from us?” He said, standing tall. Undaunted. While he knew he was unlikely to win a fight against this demon, the roiling fury in his chest made him feel bigger than he actually was.

The demon appeared in a swirl of soft smoke, standing by the slain monster. He was sagely and elegant, with a long beard and sharp eyes. His corporeal form fell apart near his feet, giving him the illusion of standing on some manner of cloud.

Tension filled Luo Binghe’s body, but he forced himself to relax. After all, Shizun had said that not all demons are necessarily evil.

And Meng Mo’s prestigious appearance gave him pause too.

Luo Binghe shifted a little closer to Shizun’s body, so the demon couldn’t look at his prone form so openly.

Meng Mo smirked. “I assure you, I have no unsavory intentions regarding your precious master.”

“…”

The demon heaved a great sigh, as if all of this had been more troublesome for him than anyone else. “You know, I have taken residence in your mind for some time now. I know your thoughts and I have seen your memories. I have witnessed your dreams.”

At this, Luo Binghe frowned. “You desire to use my mind against me?”

“Great heavens, no! Listen here, boy,” Meng Mo said, more and more fed up with him by the second. “I have only revealed myself now to extend you an offer.”

“I have no desire to make deals with demons, regardless of Shizun’s opinion of them,” Luo Binghe answered without hesitation.

“Really?” Meng Mo tutted, but there was a cruel humor in his eyes. “Is that your answer? And would it change that closed palm of yours to know that you, yourself, carry the sinful blood of demons?”

Luo Binghe stiffened.

“You take me for a liar,” Meng Mo said.

“I take you for a fool,” Luo Binghe corrected.

Meng Mo scoffed, loud.

“Whatever blood runs through my veins, forging a deal with a demon is unforgivable.”

The dream demon gave him a wry look. “And would you say that to your master’s face? Would you turn your back if you caught sight of him hand-in-hand with a demon?”

Luo Binghe’s conviction wavered.

“I had grand designs,” Meng Mo continued. “I had planned to observe you for a time, and if you looked promising… I would test the mettle of your mind. Yet you fell under the wing of this teacher of yours, and your aptitude became all too clear.”

Meng Mo approached him with a gliding, ghostly stride.

“And so, too, did your weakness.”

As Meng Mo came to stand before him, Luo Binghe clenched his fists and glared up at the elder. Yet there was nothing he could say. The more he thought about it, the more he realized this demon had him cornered.

“What do you mean? And what do you want?” He asked, waiting to see if Meng Mo would reveal his advantages.

“As you are now, do you think you can truly protect him?” Meng Mo said, bending a little to look at Shizun. Luo Binghe adjusted his stance to block his view once more, and the elder chuckled. “His power may be immense, but his ability to use it is terribly limited. Without unraveling the seal on your demon blood, without walking a path towards unrivaled power, will you be enough?”

Luo Binghe opened his mouth, prepared to reject the sentiment that the only way to protect Shizun was by embracing his supposed demonic heritage, but Meng Mo hadn’t finished speaking.

“Or will you choose to prove your master’s words correct, and show him just how virtuous a strapping young demon can be?”

Fingernails biting into his palms as he clenched his hands tighter, Luo Binghe felt his resolve falter.

“I will hear out your proposal,” he relented, averse to lowering his guard entirely.

Meng Mo laughed, pleased. “Of course you will.”

***

Shen Yuan found himself in his apartment.

Sort of.

Looking around, he couldn’t help but admire the bizarreness of his surroundings. The back of his mind buzzed with the knowledge that this was clearly a dream, and it was following dream rules, but he also knew it was a dream constructed by a master of the art. And so it was vivid enough that even the supernatural elements felt all too real.

The apartment before him was around the same size and make as he remembered his own being, although if he looked at the corners of the room they blurred together. And looking up caused the walls to suddenly appear to go on forever. A glance out the window revealed a flush wall of tall bamboo blocking out the world beyond.

Yet it was the interior that was the most strange.

All of his belongings were designed in a fashion similar to his current room in Proud Immortal Demon Way, but the objects themselves reminded him of his old world. There was even a desk, and upon that desk a computer monitor. But the screen was an ornately carved wood and paper facsimile, as if someone had seen a screen once and tried to recreate it with no knowledge of what it really was.

The whole atmosphere was jarring and highly unnerving. And what was worse was that this plot arc wasn’t even supposed to happen yet! And when it did happen, he wasn’t supposed to be in it! Shen Yuan could only guess that Ning Yingying simply slept too far away for Meng Mo to draw her in, so he had used a substitute. Perhaps he should just take it as a blessing he hadn’t picked Shen Qingqiu.

Sitting on the edge of his old-but-new mattress, the cushioning was soft and downy—familiar. His bed in his new world wasn’t nearly so plush. It filled him with an ache of poignant nostalgia.

Looking around, even if the room was too different to be his own, that hardly mattered. He had spent countless hours trapped in this box, however his mind had roamed free as it swam through texts and dove through web novels. Barely any of his life was truly lived in this place, even if he had died here.

Did he miss it?

Shen Yuan considered this.

In a way, he missed his family, if only a little; he had never been all that close with them. His parents had a patient and indulgent air about them, and spoiled him somewhat, but in retrospect, there was a distance between him and them that didn’t exist for his siblings. He was too much like a baby bird that never properly fledged, existing in a nest that needed occasional checking up on.

And his siblings had led their own lives, competing over prestige and achievement. All of them had been nice to him, but the gap was too great. There just wasn’t enough in common between them.

Sometimes they would ask what he had read lately, and he would tell them. The person in question would smile and hum, then indulge a couple of questions about the topic before changing the subject. At these moments, Shen Yuan had always felt some deep, internal pain. The stories he read represented the life he led, but few cared. The only people who understood his passion lurked within the comment pages.

But, despite all of this thinking, there was a wrongness to the question.

Did he miss it?

Did he miss… what?

A soft thrumming in his head whined with confusion at the idea. Miss what? What was he missing? The starting point made no sense, and it blurred in his mind like the walls of the room.

Dream logic, Shen Yuan decided, gaze shifting to the fake computer screen again. Yet that uneasy feeling didn’t disperse. If anything, it intensified.

The emotion was enough to have him waking with a start, and he sat up in his bed roughly, a hand moving automatically to his head. A cold sweat had burst out over his skin, making it clammy, and he shivered.

A moment later, the front door of the bamboo house opened, and his young disciple ran into his room. Luo Binghe appeared at the side of his bed, distraught and overcome with obvious worry.

“Shizun!” He called out like a little lamb as Shen Yuan self-consciously adjusted his singular robe, not expecting this sudden night visitor. “Shizun, are you okay!?”

There was a clamor from further in the house and, all at once, Shen Qingqiu appeared in his doorway—yet another night visitor. It seemed his twin, who often forewent sleep, had decided to rest tonight. And they had woken him up.

Shen Qingqiu was standing there in nothing but his inner robe, which hung loose and open on his body. His hair was wild. In one hand he held Xiu Ya and in other the sword’s sheath. He looked less like an immortal and more like a beautiful street vagrant prepared to break someone’s knees.

“What’s happening!?” He demanded, on high alert.

“Nothing, Jiu-ge! Nothing!” Shen Yuan said, laughter infiltrating his tone as he covered Luo Binghe’s eyes. “This disciple of mine had a simple nightmare, is all. Please, go back to bed.”

For a moment, Shen Qingqiu hovered there, ungraceful and ruffled. And then a look of pure disdain flooded his delicate face, although it seemed to be aimed internally. He sheathed his sword with a dignified motion and stood tall, adjusting his clothing with a quick flick of his hands and becoming the image of a prominent cultivator once more.

Although it was apparent that he was multiple levels of upset, the most he did was shoot Luo Binghe a cross look. The boy never saw it, as Shen Yuan’s palm obscured his eyes.

“I will make tea,” Shen Qingqiu decided, and he swept out of the room.

Shen Yuan’s mirth was strong as he watched him go. Doubtless, his brother wouldn’t be sleeping anymore tonight.

When he dropped his hand away from Luo Binghe’s face, the boy’s bright gaze twinkled with amusement, and for a moment they shared a unified, knowing look.

Unable to resist, Shen Yuan gave in and ruffled his disciple’s hair before leaning down to whisper conspiratorially into his ear, “We will discuss the details of that dream of yours later. I hope you properly accepted that elder.”

Luo Binghe’s posture went rigid, but he didn’t refute him.

As he sat back up, Shen Yuan thought smugly to himself, ‘If the System has no issue with it, why not make the boy strong enough that a tumble into the Endless Abyss is unnecessary? We’ll just work on his demonic cultivation together before it ever comes to that.’

He was, after all, his shizun.

Chapter Text

Fighting beasts in the dream realm Meng Mo conjured had no direct repercussions on Luo Binghe’s mind, as he had expected. After all, if the construction was not of the person’s own memories, then what they were attacking was Meng Mo himself. And the elder demon was likely powerful enough not to be affected by such things, even if disembodied.

Yet it did, however, have repercussions for Shen Yuan. In other words, what he did in that dream world was akin to him doing it in real life when it came to attacks drawn from his spiritual power.

After that dream, Shen Yuan found himself firmly knocked on his ass. It began the moment he moved to get out of bed, deciding to lead Luo Binghe to the main table so they could partake in some late night tea with his brother. He'd moved to stand, yet when weight was applied to his knees they gave out from beneath him and he instantly fell to the floor.

Luo Binghe caught him with a startled yell, and so it was that they scared Shen Qingqiu half to death for the second time. It was incredibly pitiful to be caught in the arms of a fourteen-year-old boy; what sort of immortal master was he, really?

His twin brother saw him and instantly barked, “Lay him on the bed already!”

Shen Yuan at least had enough dignity to sit up as his disciple placed him back onto the mattress, Shen Qingqiu coming to sit at his side. The other peak lord grabbed his wrist in a hold that was much firmer than when Mu Qingfang had done it, but the way he circulated his qi through Shen Yuan to evaluate his system was achingly gentle.

“You summoned Xiu An¹?” His brother asked, tone flecked with sheer incredulity. Even the foreign qi in his veins flared with his twin’s emotion. It seemed something about Shen Yuan’s spiritual drain had given him away. “Why? For what reason? Did this brother not warn you to avoid advanced demonstrations?”

Shen Yuan had panicked in the dream realm and his body had done several things of its own volition, like a bodily reflex. Dragging the gleaming blade out from the realms of in between had been one of those actions. He had to give the setting some credit for thematic consistency, though—even if this world had bent its rules to allow Shen Qingqiu to have a twin brother, it felt fitting their swords bore similar names. Something, something, readership appeal.

Although he hoped such a thing didn’t imply they shared a similar fate. And, failing that, how many powerful duos were quickly rendered a party of one for climatic tragedy? Shen Yuan discreetly shot Luo Binghe a glance and prayed in his mind, ‘Look how tenderly my brother attends to me! You really don’t want to break this up, right? Right?’

Shen Qingqiu twisted his wrist a little and Shen Yuan hissed. “Pay attention and answer!”

“Ahh, Jiu-ge is merciless,” Shen Yuan laughed vaguely.

In the end, he got out of most of the questioning by just claiming he’d wanted to simply take a look at his own sword, he had missed seeing it, and can he really be blamed for that? Shen Qingqiu spent an incense stick’s length of time lecturing him after that poor excuse.

The sun was just beginning to paint the sky a soft blue by the time he finished.

***

“Help this old master change—we’re going out today.”

While it had been a fairly simple matter dressing up as Shen Qingqiu and sneaking out the first time around, the second occurrence had a few complications. Luckily, Luo Binghe was attentive to the point of stickiness, and so Shen Yuan’s sudden onset of physical weakness was overcome with his help. That he became overtaxed easily, however, really made him feel like some kind of decrepit old man. Luo Binghe’s wary, polite fussing only drove that sensation home.

He’d needed the boy to help him pull on Shen Qingqiu’s layers of robes, as well as fix his hair. The little adventure in Meng Mo’s dream realm made him feel a cross between ‘a constant hangover’ and ‘having just run ten laps around the peak’. If a semi-divine emerald lion cub rolled out of the bushes, it probably could have taken him down with a single paw swat.

Still, he was slowly recovering. Although, dread lurked in the back of his mind, because he felt like he was more and more being slotted into the kindly master role. And those types always met an untimely end in order to spur the protagonist’s motivation.

Sometimes he entertained potential outcomes in his head:

He and his twin would both attend the Immortal Alliance Conference somehow, despite few knowing he existed. Shen Yuan would horrifically fall to the black moon python-rhino. In his anguish, Luo Binghe’s demonic seal would break wide open, and then Shen Qingqiu would blame the half-demon for his brother’s death and push him into the Endless Abyss. After that, of course, Luo Binghe would eventually return and destroy Shen Qingqiu for daring to wear his old master’s face, as well as for his past abuse. As if fate, his very own brother would ultimately become a human stick.

Kindly master? What kindly master! There was absolutely no way he was going to let his life end in such a pathetic way. No thanks! This Shen Yuan died once already and once was enough. No complaints, System? Then point farming it is! He would keep himself alive with all the spite and fury of elders everywhere. Just you watch!

As Luo Binghe accompanied him on the slow walk to Qiong Ding Peak, Shen Yuan surveyed his most relevant point scores.

[Protagonist Satisfaction Points: 1800]

[Character Complexity: Shen Qingqiu [+12], Shen Yuan [+8].]

[Reputation: Shen Qingqiu [20], Shen Yuan [80].]

He nearly fainted at the sight of all those numbers, which really didn’t help his image in the slightest. It was a small blessing that Shen Qingqiu had once more left the peak with his disciples, so there was no one around to see. That his twin had Yue Qingyuan accompanying him, and therefore wouldn’t notice if Shen Yuan visited his peak’s library, was the primary reason he had made this journey at all.

Shen Yuan simply needed to not keel over on the way there, which he was already doing a poor job of.

What was with these insane scores? Why was the protagonist’s satisfaction so high? He hadn’t even fought off the dream lion himself! What was there to gloat about? And the complexity ratings were one thing, but what was going on with the reputation?

Since when was Shen Yuan’s at eighty points?

Didn’t it cap at one hundred? And if minus one hundred was sworn enemy territory then—

Shen Yuan stopped walking. Ah…

“Shizun?”

Luo Binghe gave him a cute, pure-eyed look of concern. Shen Yuan patted his shoulder, smiling to himself. “It’s nothing.”

Maybe eighty points could be a useful thing, actually. What was the opposite of one’s greatest enemy? Well, one’s greatest ally, after all. A mere shizun could be held in high esteem, but surely this was creeping into sword brother range, right? Luo Binghe had seen a few days ago how well he could down a beast with just a single strike. True, it was a bit of a cheat to rely on his knowledge of the novel, as that was what had informed him that a semi-divine emerald lion’s only weak spot was beneath its jaw. However, Luo Binghe didn’t need to know that.

As far as his disciple knew, his shizun was a scholarly, badass monster slayer.

Eighty points made a lot of sense! Who wouldn’t admire someone like that and want them as an ally in the future?

As soon as they reached an area that had other sect’s disciples milling about, Shen Yuan made his posture as haughty and closed-off as possible. He forced himself to walk with elegance. The bystanders shot a few glances their way, perhaps incited by how Luo Binghe walked close to his side, but the two of them reached the library with little to no fuss. It seemed the younger generations lacked an eagerness to incite Shen Qingqiu’s wrath. His brother’s reputation was incredibly useful.

“Binghe,” he told his disciple after the attendant at the front desk verified his identity and gave him free passage to head further inside, “I want you to wait here.”

“But Shizun—,”

Shen Yuan gave a light shake of his head and patted his chest with his closed fan. “This master is capable. Have patience.”

Luo Binghe’s expression was torn. Finally, he reluctantly nodded. “Yes, Shizun.”

It was a bit of a farce. In reality, Shen Yuan knew the protagonist could sometimes show a striking amount of perceptiveness, and he was reluctant to allow him insight into how little Shen Yuan knew about the Cang Qiong Mountain Sect. Even getting this far had all been because he’d carefully positioned himself to always be a step behind Luo Binghe’s own gait. It wasn’t like he knew how to get to Qiong Ding Peak on his own, and as he must have been a disciple here at one point, that lack of familiarity was extremely suspicious.

Of course, he just as well had no idea how to navigate these library shelves, but that seemed a more manageable issue. And, also, he was rather curious what kinds of things were being stored here in the first place. Perusing a little as he searched for his target couldn’t hurt.

Some time passed this way. Shen Yuan would slowly work down one row, finger brushing over well-dusted volumes. Occasionally, he would stop and pull one free from its confines so he could skim its pages. In a world like this one, such a concentration of easily accessible information was an enormous luxury. It was unlikely he could visit again casually, so he wanted some idea of what to ask his brother to fetch for him.

Turning the corner to enter another row of shelving, Shen Yuan paused. There was someone present in this one, standing close to a shelf with a book open in his hands. His expression gave the impression that he was absorbed in whatever he was reading.

The librarians gave disciples discretion to enter here only under rare circumstances. As this person was unattended and clearly loitering about, Shen Yuan concluded he must be a peak lord.

He didn’t quite look like one, though, did he? Too mousy. Too—

Oh.

Shen Yuan glanced to his side, noting that this area pertained to demons. It had been the section he sought himself, coincidentally.

Well, that answered that. He looked at the individual before him again, and an unpleasant emotion coalesced to life in his chest. This peak lord was a traitorous rat of a man, so perhaps it wouldn’t be all that difficult to act like Shen Qingqiu in his presence.

As if sensing Shen Yuan’s hard stare, Shang Qinghua looked up. And then he jumped, all nerves and anxiety. It was honestly baffling how no one ever suspected this person of being a spy. He could only blame the piss-poor writing for that.

Shen Yuan kept his gaze locked on the squirrely man and strode forward, like a snake gliding up to its paralyzed prey. Shang Qinghua began to sweat visibly.

Good. Fuck him, honestly.

It helped that he was taller than him in this body. It really drove home the emotion he wanted to pin this traitor under. I know what you are, little man. I know what you are.

“Shang-shidi,” Shen Yuan said in his best, iciest, impression of his brother. “What a coincidence.”

He could just barely perceive the man shuddering in his robes. It filled Shen Yuan with a strange sort of smugness. Whatever discomfort Shang Qinghua felt, it was nothing compared to how the original Luo Binghe had suffered in those horrific, dark years. As far as Shen Yuan was concerned, the blame for that fell squarely onto this man’s shoulders. He was the one who had needlessly given the novel’s Shen Qingqiu such a dramatic, brutal opportunity.

“Yes,” Shang Qinghua said roughly, like he was doing his utmost not to stutter. “It is. Good afternoon, Shen-shixiong…”

Shen Yuan hummed, like he was turning over his words and examining them from every angle. He wasn’t, but it was the appearance of doing so which mattered. Liars facing scrutiny always fell apart internally, even if they were innocent and that scrutiny was unwarranted. It was the paranoia which made it so effective.

‘I should tell my brother to keep an eye on this one,’ he thought to himself ruefully.

For now, though, Shang Qinghua might be of use. After all, he had clung to the thighs of demons and set up a trap for the mass genocide of cultivators—

Yet he likely had no clue as to Luo Binghe’s existence. That was merely a horrible twist of fate.

“Help this shixiong locate a few obscure tomes,” Shen Yuan said, finally—finally—releasing the peak lord from his piercing gaze. In his peripheral, Shang Qinghua visibly relaxed. Was he not ashamed to be so transparent? How much face did he have?

“This shidi would be happy to oblige,” Shang Qinghua managed to say without his voice quivering. “I know this section very well.”

Obvious! So obvious! Honestly, how did no one ever figure it out? Shen Yuan almost wanted to file a complaint. Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky, what was with this cowardly, shameless mole of yours?

Shen Yuan pushed down his frustration. He could rage about it in his head later.

“I am looking for a few volumes on select topics,” he said airily. “Demonic cultivation and seal breaking.”

There was a beat of silence. When he looked, Shang Qinghua was staring at him with an unreadable expression. With a lot more composure than he’d displayed until this point, the shorter peak lord said, “That is… quite specific. May I ask why?”

Shen Yuan opened his fan and attempted supreme nonchalance. “Some of my more troublesome disciples have been curious as to the differences between human and demonic cultivation. This master has decided to review the subject in preparation for a thorough lesson.”

Shang Qinghua nodded, but he didn’t seem altogether convinced, which was strange. Wasn’t that a perfectly good explanation? What was he to be confused about?

“And the seal breaking…?” Shang Qinghua said. And then he stood a little straighter, like something had occurred to him. “There are various types of seals. Countless, even. What type has captured Shixiong’s focus?”

Shen Yuan felt his eyes narrow against his will and then corrected himself. After thinking about it, he really couldn’t see a way this would backfire on him. Shang Qinghua had zero knowledge of Luo Binghe’s bloodline, and his entire timeline revolved around bumbling meekly to his death. Shang Qinghua likely thought this was a prime opportunity to gain information on one of the more prestigious and untouchable peak lords.

Normally, this would be a cat-and-mouse battle. Shang Qinghua would find out what he was studying and then pass off that knowledge to the demons so they could prepare appropriate counter measures.

He felt a deep sense of satisfaction at the realization that his interest this time would be wholly useless to the spy.

“Blood seals,” Shen Yuan, as Shen Qingqiu, told him honestly. “In particular, anything regarding seals that might contain the demonic blood in a half-human.”

The silence stretched this time. Shang Qinghua was staring at him as if he had never seen him before. Eventually, he managed a wheezy-sounding, “Why?”

“Why does Shidi think?” Shen Yuan deflected, as if he had nothing on his mind but was intrigued by what rampant fantasies were going through the one beside him. In other words, ‘Shang Qinghua, you’re the one behaving strangely here, not me!’

“Well, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you… had some half-demon tucked away somewhere. And that you wanted to break the seal on his blood and help him cultivate his demonic powers…” Shang Qinghua said, and while there was a nervous laughing quality to his words, he still got through the entire explanation with a straight face.

Alarms went off in Shen Yuan’s head. This traitor was a bit too clever, wasn’t he!?

However. He did not. Know. About Luo Binghe.

Shen Yuan kept his calm and gave Shang Qinghua an arc look. “That is quite the imagination you have. Is this sort of thing something Shang-shidi has experience with? Perhaps a discussion with Yue-shixiong is in order to sort the matter out?”

Okay, so it was playing dirty to imply he’d rat him out to mom, but what choice did he have? And his twin would definitely do that, too! If threatened, running to Yue Qingyuan would be the first thing he’d do if it meant getting the edge up on someone. Everyone knew Shen Qingqiu somehow had the sect leader’s ear!

Shang Qinghua raised his hands, expression appeasing, successfully cowed. “N- no, I just thought— This shidi… It really would be something if that was the case, huh?”

Shen Yuan resisted the urge to roll his eyes. What a coward. “If you are quite done entertaining your fantasy, I would like to find these books and be on my way.”

“Of course, of course! I’ll, ah… see what I can find…”

As it turned out, Shang Qinghua was astoundingly helpful. He easily located books so niche and unnoticeable Shen Yuan doubted he would have noticed them. And for many, he need only to glance at a few pages before he knew what it was. It was such a shame he was an unrepentant villain; the man could have sought a much higher station than that, if he really applied himself.

With five books in hand, Shen Yuan made his way back to the front of the library. Shang Qinghua, unfortunately, decided he was leaving as well and followed him. It was less than ideal, but what could he do?

The moment the two stepped out from the shelves and came within line of sight of the front desk, Luo Binghe stood up abruptly from the chair he’d been sitting in. “Shizun!”

Beside him, Shang Qinghua startled badly. Shen Yuan was smug again. ‘Get a good look. If Mobei-Jun doesn’t end you, this man is the next in line to be your life’s bane.’

He did his best not to show it, though, ignoring Shang Qinghua as he strode forward to meet with his clingy disciple. “Volume, Binghe.”

“This disciple apologizes,” Luo Binghe said, voice lowered. “This disciple was simply worried after Shizun was gone for so long. If something had happened, this disciple wouldn’t have known about it.”

“This master is not so frail as to faint while locating a few books, Binghe,” he scolded mildly.

“This disciple knows,” Binghe argued, “but the walk here was long. Shizun, let me take those.”

Without waiting for a response, he extracted the books from Shen Yuan’s hands. How utterly noble of him. It would be that kind of tenderness that would win the hearts of several hundred maidens someday.

With Luo Binghe at the front, they made quick work of exiting the library. And, while he refused to look in his direction, Shen Yuan had the distinct impression that Shang Qinghua had carefully watched them even as they departed.

***

Luo Binghe felt restless.

For seven days and seven nights, Shizun spent all of his time reading, almost without end. The only times he would stop was if Luo Binghe brought him food. With his current state, where even simply walking to another peak was a tremendous conquest for him, Luo Binghe’s direct lessons were canceled for a short while.

Secretly, he was rather quite pleased with how much Shen Qingqiu lectured Shizun for going out. While he hoped he had not scolded him so thoroughly the last time it happened, as meeting his Shizun for the second time was a fond memory for him…

He also could not help but understand.

“At least you had your disciple with you!” Shen Qingqiu had said at a certain point, making Luo Binghe stand straighter with surprised pride. “Honestly, which one is more the pet—that child or A-Yuan! Either is a dog in need of a leash, if you ask me!”

All Shizun said to this was, “Do not refer to Binghe in such a lowly way.”

Luo Binghe’s chest burned with rejection; he wanted to argue that it was Shizun who was above those words! Yet he realized how special it was that Shizun took to defending him first, with no regard for himself. It made Luo Binghe unbelievably happy.

The lack of lessons was perhaps a good thing, as much as it bothered him not to have Shizun’s full attention. It gave him some time to get ahead on his materials. He even carefully left some things unlearned, which he knew were easy, which Shizun could teach him without straining himself. He wanted to ensure his master felt he was still contributing to his disciple’s education.

Finally, Shizun summoned him to his side as he sat at the low table one day, his borrowed books spread out before him. Shen Qingqiu was absent, and the look on his shizun’s face was serious. Luo Binghe braced himself for the conversation ahead.

But he never could have expected the words that his shizun spoke first:

“Binghe, how much has Meng Mo divulged to you regarding your blood?”

Unease spread rapidly over Luo Binghe’s body. He swallowed nothing and fidgeted, knowing he had not heard wrong. Before him sat not only his shizun, but Peak Lord Shen Yuan. Immortal cultivators were the antithesis of cultivated demonic power. Even if his shizun had said some strange things lately, and had asked him oddly pointed questions, he had tried to put it out of his mind that Shizun knew.

What if he was wrong, after all? What if Shizun reacted with hostility and kicked him off the peak?

He fretted for some time, but his shizun was patient. And ultimately, he couldn’t lie to him.

“This disciple… is aware of his heritage,” he confessed.

“Of course you are,” Shizun said. “I ask how much that elder master has spoken regarding the seal on Binghe’s blood.”

Luo Binghe blinked. And then, slowly, he said, “Shizun… this disciple is part demon.”

Shizun frowned at him, cutely confused. “Yes? This master is aware. Is that not why he encouraged Binghe to accept Meng Mo’s teachings?”

It felt difficult to breathe. While Luo Binghe had suspected that maybe Shizun figured it out, it’d seemed too surreal to put his hope on the idea. Yet now everything was crashing down around him as his shizun looked at him as if he should have realized all this already. Luo Binghe attempted to suppress his dizziness, his mind fighting to understand what it all meant.

Yes, he knew his shizun didn’t hate demons—

They’d had a discussion on it. A pointed one, where Shizun had been careful to express his thoughts that demons could be good, and virtuous, and even romantically pursued…!

Suddenly, it all slotted into place.

“Did Shizun—,” he licked his lips, then tried again. “Did Shizun take on this disciple… because he knew what he was?”

He watched carefully as Shizun gave the idea some thought, then finally nodded, confirming it. “That is the case, yes. This master knew. Your former-shizun does not, so it may be best to, ah, keep this a secret. Okay?”

So, Shen Qingqiu was unaware.

Peak Lord Shen Yuan had taken only but a couple glances at him and had determined Luo Binghe’s capability with his own eyes. He had found normal cultivation methods lacking for the half-demon, and rescued him from Shen Qingqiu’s failure-inspired wrath. And now he shielded him, protecting him from his own flesh and blood, knowing that such a thing carried incredible risk.

Luo Binghe bowed until his head touched the floor. “This disciple is unworthy of Shizun’s care and effort.”

If it could express his sincerity, he would have gladly spent hours in this position.

“Binghe? Binghe! Look— There’s no need for such…” His shizun flustered and hands caught Luo Binghe’s shoulders, pushing him back up. “Rise and strike that from your mind. Let’s discuss more pleasant things, hm?”

“Like what?” Luo Binghe asked, feeling dazed as those slender fingers remained on his shoulders.

The smile he won for that question, small and soft, dazzled him. Shizun's hair draped down one shoulder, and his eyes were filled with light. “Like how to break that seal on your blood, so you can access your true potential. This master can't simply educate his disciple halfway, can he?”

Luo Binghe’s gaze darted to the books before returning to his shizun’s face. The demonic cultivation manuals? The research? All of this sleepless effort... had been for him? It was one thing for Meng Mo, a demon, to impart upon him the ways of dream manipulation, but Shizun was a human!

Overcome with emotion, his eyes stung. He launched himself at his shizun, grasping him like a child that’d found its long-lost family. Not only had Shizun accepted him, but he'd also embraced what he was unwaveringly.

A quiet laugh sounded over his head, and Shizun ran soothing motions down his back with his palm. Luo Binghe stayed in that position longer than he should have, unable to make himself let go.

Chapter Text

It turned out that releasing the seal on Luo Binghe’s blood was painfully straight-forward, once one knew what they were doing.

The books Shang Qinghua had located for him in Qiong Ding Peak’s main library had been exceptionally helpful—so much so that after some wheedling Shen Yuan convinced his brother to send some high-quality tea leaves the man’s way.

Ming Fan had become a pinpoint of focus for Shen Qingqiu after his transgressions. The boy was forced to write long essays about the different subjects of his training. Literature, music, martial practice, and so on. Whatever he did, Shen Qingqiu wanted it explained in full, with details and annotations.

Daily.

And yet, from what Shen Yuan heard, Ming Fan was taking this abuse and running with it. Not a single quip or complaint. The disciple was gladly allowing his master to ruthlessly beat him into shape.

So it was that Shen Qingqiu would return to the bamboo house every few weeks with a gift of tea from Ming Fan’s family, an annoyed yet pleased expression on his face. They had enough tea to last ten winters. Giving some away hardly bothered Shen Qingqiu. It was simply the recipient that perturbed him.

“It appears the moment A-Yuan slips out, he slinks back with the whole of Cang Qiong Mountain’s affection.” He complained.

Shen Yuan wasn’t sure how to break it to his brother that the only one who gave him so much excessive favor was him. Each time he'd left the house, it was disguised as Shen Qingqiu. And this last incident, in particular, he used that façade to threaten and bully someone…

Exactly what affection was he gaining here? If anything, he was losing his brother face.

Well, if Shen Qingqiu disliked Shang Qinghua all the more, it wasn’t a bad thing. This storyline differed from the original, so who knew what sort of traitorous acts the An Ding Peak Lord might pull?

Regardless, the books had been helpful, and at least for that, he had Shen Yuan’s gratitude. It appeared Shang Qinghua could be deceptively useful in a pinch if he knew which arm to pull.

The original work had never detailed exactly who sealed Luo Binghe’s blood, but Shen Yuan suspected the only person with enough power was his mother. He couldn’t imagine the distress she must have felt in her final moments as she poured the last shreds of her energy into making her half-demon child appear human. Did she wonder if she was doing the right thing? Did she wonder if she was weakening him to the cold, and so he would fail to survive it when his demon blood might have shielded him? Yet it was the human realm; she had no choice but to obscure his nature.

Shen Yuan never spoke to Meng Mo directly, but through Luo Binghe, he was able to obtain the elder demon’s assistance. With some effort, Meng Mo used the realm of dreams to place a marker on the seal in Luo Binghe’s body. During the day, Shen Yuan sought this marker out and finally ascertained the seal’s formation for himself.

As he suspected, it was constructed with purely spiritual energy—light encasing great darkness. That made things tricky. If the energy had been demonic, eating away at it would take less time. Since it was spiritual, though, Shen Yuan would more safely be able to unwind it with no unexpected backlash.

Thus began a long, arduous road: every night, without fail, Shen Yuan poured his energy into gently peeling layers off of that heartfelt mother’s barrier like it was a cocoon of translucent silk. On the rare occasions that Shen Qingqiu lurked too close at hand to perform the transfer, Shen Yuan’s qi would simply build up a little more. When an opportunity arose, he could give his disciple more effort than usual. Sometimes he and Luo Binghe would sit at the low table for hours, nursing hot tea and waiting out the completion of that day’s session.

Of course, Luo Binghe had mixed feelings about all of this.

“Is this really necessary?” He would press and pester, over and over, without end. “Each day, Shizun is barely strong enough to carry himself. This disciple can’t possibly trouble Shizun to this extent!”

“Nonsense,” Shen Yuan would tell him. “This master is setting up his disciple for future success. Have some trust, Binghe.”

So what if the whole thing made him unbelievably tired? So what if he started sleeping more, and his brother began to pester Mu Qingfang for visitations out of concern? Did they not realize that on the other end of this transaction was the Endless Abyss? Who really had it all that hard—a Shen Yuan who was pampered and fed, or a Luo Binghe scrounging for life in a demon-infested chasm? Like anyone could argue that the former had it worse! He was, at most, sleepy!

Shen Yuan may have overlooked one critical detail, however.

He was also completely defenseless.

***

To say Luo Binghe’s life had changed dramatically would be an understatement.

For several months, he woke with the anticipation that all of his prior days had simply been a wondrous, incredible dream. And yet, as his hands dutifully prepared Shizun’s breakfast, his senses returned to him.

This truly was his reality.

Yet there were a few things he found highly unsatisfying.

“Binghe, thank you,” Shizun said, accepting breakfast from him. Shen Qingqiu, sitting across from his brother at the table, ignored the both of them. “This looks incredible, as always.”

“Would Shizun like tea?”

“Mm, yes. That sounds nice.”

As usual, Luo Binghe observed his shizun carefully as he poured his tea. Perhaps if he had not watched him so carefully when first taken under his care, he wouldn’t have noticed it. Back then, he had spent days studying the differences in Shizun’s face when compared to Shen Qingqiu, endlessly fascinated by how the same features could express things so differently. Because of this, it was clear to him now just how utterly fatigued his shizun was at the moment. This morning was even worse than usual.

He forced himself to swallow down his unhappiness. If he showed his worry openly, Shen Qingqiu might narrow down the cause to Luo Binghe. Shizun would be sad if they were found out and his efforts were taken away from him…

Luo Binghe simply wished that all of that exhaustion was for Shizun’s own benefit. A fierce longing had started to swell in his heart; he would have eagerly given all of this up for a more self-serving goal, pouring his qi into Shizun to meet a new level of cultivation. On the surface, such a manipulative, parasitic arrangement would be the work of a perfect villain, and so was unfitting of the Xiu An Sword. Still, the desire remained.

It was all Luo Binghe could do to repay Shizun’s efforts with what was within his grasp.

And so he trained relentlessly, day in and day out. No time was wasted. Were it not for Shizun’s consistent night treatments, Luo Binghe likely would have forgotten to sleep at all. Even with that, his head often left his pillow before dawn broke, body energized after a night of processing and integrating Shizun’s gifted qi.

Unlike his sect siblings, very little of his practice was devoted to the finer arts. Aside from educating him on literacy and writing, Peak Lord Shen Yuan was content to allow him to focus solely on cultivation and martial training.

And then, as if a dragon descending the heavens to shake the earth, he even went so far as to draft a letter in Shen Qingqiu’s name, and had it delivered to Liu Qingge. Luo Binghe fervently wished he could have read it, as it caused the Bai Zhan Peak Lord’s face to go through a series of severe expressions, but he was too loyal to betray Shizun’s trust in him that way.

So it was that Liu Qingge gave him formative instruction in sword technique personally. When Luo Binghe realized this was what Shizun’s letter pertained to, he resented himself for being too obedient to open that envelope.

How was it that, even when feigning an identity, his shizun could stir the hearts and minds of other people? Shen Qingqiu was a fierce and unlikable man, yet when Shen Yuan hid behind his brother and spoke softly, Shang Qinghua watched after his back with all the focus of a suitor and Liu Qingge bent himself to his will with but a few ink strokes.

If Luo Binghe put extra effort into his beginner spars with Liu Qingge, then it was for good reason. The peak lord had years of experience on his side, and half-demon or no, it would take substantial investment to overcome him.

When the demons came, Luo Binghe was forced to witness firsthand just how lacking his own progress truly was.

It began with shouts in the distance, disturbing Luo Binghe from his cleaning. Shizun was particularly exhausted today and calmly continued to sleep, unaware and undisturbed by the shouts. As an immortal master, that spoke all too much as to how fragile he was…

Luo Binghe met a desperate Ming Fan outside, who rarely ventured up to the bamboo house anymore and never did so without summons.

“Demons are attacking the mountain!” He said. “Where’s Shizun?”

His Shizun— Shen Qingqiu.

Ming Fan had no clue that they were not sect siblings under the same lord.

“He isn’t here,” Luo Binghe told him. “He went to visit Qiong Ding Peak. I will stay here and protect the house. You should seek him out and offer your assistance.”

Apparently all too willing to grasp the spotlight at Shen Qingqiu’s side, Ming Fan left without argument. Alone, Luo Binghe’s mind raced as it occurred to him that he would need to prepare for the possibility of combat.

Quietly, so as to not disturb Shizun, Luo Binghe retrieved his sword and practice talismans. He hoped things would not escalate to the point where he would be forced to use them.

Yet hope was a feeble, delicate thing.

And entirely useless.

***

Shen Qingqiu jumped down from his sword, feet gracefully touching the ground. He was out of breath, but his body refused to show it.

Before him lay three corpses pulped into raw gore. Split heads, cut stomachs, and deep red puddles. The song of desperation and slaughter, as one struggled to survive.

At the door to his home sat a blood-soaked youth, training sword in hand. If it wasn’t for his appearance, his stance would have been appropriate at a formal tea ceremony. As he looked now, Shen Qingqiu was reminded of a god of war poised at a critical junction.

Shen Qingqiu was also reminded of himself.

A smoky haze cloaked the sky. Demons had scorched some of his bamboo, and the ground wore smatterings of streaky ash. One of the attacking beasts had used fire, and were it not for the boy’s sword and water talismans, his home would be aflame and his brother dead.

The truth of this was bile in Shen Qingqiu’s throat. He had known Shen Yuan was at risk, and yet…

And yet he couldn’t simply abandon tens of disciples, delivering them to a swift execution. As a peak lord, he had a responsibility to them, and he had upheld it. And now he could no longer ignore reality. If Shen Yuan had never brought the mutt to heel, there would be no guard dog to defend him. As a brother, he failed him. As kin, he had opted for the greater good in order to save face. And the rage in his heart screamed at him, because he never wanted all this responsibility. He wanted to be selfish.

He wanted his brother alive, and this was the price he paid.

Qing Jing Peak’s Lord. A miserable fraud who had sacrificed and scraped together every bit of raw qi he could spare to pour into his sickly brother, refusing to cultivate further if it meant leaving Shen Yuan behind. He was by no means weak, but even Liu Qingge could bat his sword from his hand unthinkingly if he damn well tried to. A junior in title alone. How utterly humiliating was that?

“Someone like you doesn’t really fit here.”

Of course he didn’t. That was because he had little to no interest in teaching others or cultivating beyond a certain level. The brute’s biting words were more accurate than he realized. Even fending off the demons just now, the Bai Zhan Peak Lord had hovered about him as though he thought Shen Qingqiu a fancy piece of glassware that might shatter at the slightest touch, not a single flicker of fear in that righteous heart that he might expose his back to Xiu Ya’s blade.

Shen Qingqiu inhaled a deep, long breath, and refocused his gaze on the form before him. Luo Binghe’s eyes were dark, his expression unreadable.

Wisps of demonic qi softly shadowed and snaked his skin.

Many things Shen Qingqiu was, but never an outright fool.

He had long taken notice of what was happening. He had reviewed the recorded log of books his brother had boldly collected in his name. And he had observed the way his twin guardedly snuck off to the child’s room to perform unwittingly the same act for Luo Binghe that Shen Qingqiu had for him, draining his own spirit into him in order to accelerate some means to an end. His twin had willfully pricked holes in whatever force concealed the brat’s true nature, and now, after the heat of battle, that leaking essence steamed off his skin.

The boy appeared a street puppy, but in reality he was far more monstrous. And Shen Yuan knowingly kept this thing as his pet.

For a while, Shen Qingqiu had felt too conflicted to know what to make of it.

Looking at him now, though…

Hard eyes, blood, and soot.

Shen Qingqiu’s mind flashed to a time before all this, a young master grinning from ear to ear, that accursed mirror in his hands, and Shen Yuan’s limp, soul-sundered body. That face had been allowed to smile and cause all manner of abuse for several more years after that until Shen Jiu had put a stop to it. As he hauled his brother free of that place, he had probably looked no different from the figure before him.

Yet what liberation did he find? A traitorous jianghu who used his brother as leverage to throw Shen Jiu into the criminal depths of hell itself. And when his body broke, and his will was snapped like a horse’s, Shen Yuan had attempted to beat the man himself with all the strength of a flower petal diving at a waterfall. Shen Jiu’s hatred revived as his brother was beaten near death and fed poison before his very eyes. And then the scum had fled the scene, cheerfully certain that one or both of the twins would die in the forest.

Shen Jiu had held Shen Yuan, but could not shed tears as he watched the life seep from his brother’s body. When his consciousness faded, and his head drooped, Shen Jiu had grabbed the jianghu’s abandoned knife and plunged it into his own chest.

Who could have known they were in such close proximity to the Cang Qiong Mountain Sect? Who could have known that his choked scream of pain as he tried to kill himself would alert those prestigious cultivators?

And so, instead of dying, he awoke to the sight of Yue Qi’s face—the person who had abandoned the twins first. And a way forward was extended to him.

Yet it meant listening. It meant cooperation. It meant digesting his grudges and hatred until fury finally left his system, and all that remained was some ball of emotion that he had no name for. He likened the entire process to torture, really.

There were far worse things in this world than demons…

Shen Qingqiu strode forward, navigating over the lifeless meat of enemy bodies with an easy stride. Luo Binghe sat up straighter as he came closer, as if he’d only just spied him through the blood crusting on his face.

“My brother?” He asked as he stopped before him. However, he already knew the answer.

“Shizun is unharmed,” Luo Binghe reported, moving to stand. It was obvious from the way he favored one of his legs that he was injured. “He slept through the attack.”

Shen Qingqiu’s eyes narrowed. His twin was that unwell? He supposed it made a terrible amount of sense. He was bequeathing his energy to this… thing.

An unlucky demon? A halfling? It mattered not. Either way, it was happily devouring Shen Yuan’s qi like a greedy infant suckling milk.

Shen Qingqiu had finally put the pieces back together, and yet his brother saw fit to hinder his own recovery with such a troublesome project…

He sighed.

At one point in time, he was sure he would have been the kind of person to approve of Ming Fan’s dangerous stunt. The cultivation manual he had drafted was the kind that could cause a long, and very painful, death. Were he a different man, he may have even crafted it himself in his spite and rage at the boy’s youth and good prospects. And that selfsame person would not hesitate to cut the throat of this child demon here and now, thinking it a sort of poetic justice having finally come to roost.

Shen Qingqiu took a deep breath. A more recent memory surfaced—Yue Qingyuan’s fingers drifting across his cheek as he pushed a lock of hair behind Shen Qingqiu’s ear with that obnoxiously sentimental expression of his. And a sinister voice knocked at his insides, filling him with disgust at himself. ‘What would he think?’

Kindness was rare in this wretched world.

Yue Qingyuan would likely put Luo Binghe under great scrutiny. So, naturally, Shen Qingqiu opted to do the opposite.

“Come inside,” he said, sweeping past the boy and opening the door. “Your wounds should be seen to.”

*

As if a mere blink of the eyes, five years passed.

He soon came to regret allowing that young wolf to mature on his peak, but not for a reason he could have possibly predicted.

Chapter Text

As time went by, Shen Yuan thought about the System less and less.

It had always lurked in the back of his mind as a general threat, right up until the Immortal Alliance Conference. He had never been able to suppress the fear that somehow, despite his best efforts, the story would rip away Luo Binghe and force him on his black lotus path. The paranoia he experienced around that time was so fierce both his disciple and his brother took alarmed notice. How could they not, when Shen Yuan stopped eating, sleeping, and sometimes wandered out of the house in a fitful daze of whirling thoughts? He had immense secondhand embarrassment looking back on it all.

And then the conference came and went, just like that.

Shen Yuan and Luo Binghe did not attend. And the Endless Abyss made no grand appearance. The most that happened was his brother returning with numerous complaints about Gongyi Xiao taking first place. It was around that point that Shen Yuan came to terms with how irrevocably different this world was from the novel. In Proud Immortal Demon Way, Luo Binghe was the main character, and every event revolved around highlighting his innate superiority to those around him.

In reality, Luo Binghe had not taken part in the demon invasion or the conference, and his name was relatively unknown, even within their own mountain sect. Those on Qing Jing Peak were acutely aware of him, and Bai Zhan to a lesser extent, but only insofar as he was the subject of much rumor. Eventually, his peers settled on the idea that Luo Binghe had failed to cultivate and had been demoted to a servant’s position, thus why Ming Fan held the proud role of head disciple. The only reason Luo Binghe was allowed to remain on the peak was because he was an orphan and Shen Qingqiu pitied him.

If these cruel whispers bothered Luo Binghe, he never showed it. Shen Yuan himself struggled to take them seriously.

Two years after the conference, he tugged loose the last spiritual thread on his disciple’s seal. The final unravel had occurred with little fanfare—no explosion of demonic energy, no glowing red insignia of heavenly demon blood. Apparently, Shen Yuan had performed the seal-breaking equivalent of dipping a wind-chilled infant in a cool bath and slowly raising the heat until it was a reasonable temperature. In short, Luo Binghe’s circumstances had allowed him to adapt to the influence of his blood, as incrementally, more of its power was unrestrained over time.

With a year of rigorous training at full strength, Luo Binghe now had enough spiritual and demonic power to wrench the very heavens apart.

What kind of lion would the boy be, if he took to heart the gossip of mice?

Although Luo Binghe had traveled a much kinder path in this world, his status as the protagonist had dutifully given him whatever challenges he needed to increase his prowess.

No scraping and clawing through the Endless Abyss? That was fine; Liu Qingge just so happened to be interested in hunting down the same beast Luo Binghe had headed off to slay, and when they journeyed together they encountered a monster three times as deadly. Similar incidents were as plentiful as flower fields.

No retrieval of Xin Mo? It didn’t seem to affect much of anything. The sword had allowed a young, freshly demonic Luo Binghe to survive harsh conditions, but his Luo Binghe had already cultivated to a much higher level, and Zheng Yang never failed to match his strength.

Perhaps the most puzzling change was Luo Binghe’s lack of sexual appetite. No matter how much Shen Yuan offered or cajoled, his disciple never spent his leisure time anywhere beyond the bamboo house. It made no sense. Ning Yingying was so close at hand. How could Luo Binghe stand idly by when he had the opportunity to woo his future spouse?

‘Maybe I sheltered the boy too much,’ Shen Yuan thought ruefully. ‘He must not have the slightest idea how to talk to his romantic interests.’

And yet, despite all this, the System largely remained silent.

Out of curiosity, he would check his stats sometimes, but it rarely seemed necessary. Satisfaction rose at a steady rate. A few of the reputation numbers went up and down occasionally, but never anything drastic…

At current, the scores were largely as thus:

[Protagonist Satisfaction Points: 16,200]

[Character Complexity: Shen Qingqiu [+15], Shen Yuan [+10], Yue Qingyuan [+3], Mu Qingfang [+1], Liu Qingge [+2]...]

[Reputation: Shen Qingqiu [10], Shen Yuan [100], Yue Qingyuan [20], Mu Qingfang [25], Liu Qingge [30]...]

Shen Yuan had wondered why Mobei-Jun’s name never appeared on the list, despite Luo Binghe offhandedly informing his shizun that he’d fended off an ambush from him and turned him into a subordinate. When prodded, the System simply told him: [Protagonist relationships stats are unavailable until relationship is adequately observed by user.]

Well, that explained why the list was predominantly made up of everyone who had access to the bamboo house, plus Liu Qingge, who he heard enough about in passing. In the beginning, Shen Yuan had been allowed access to a slightly longer list made up of disciples of Qing Jing Peak. He wondered if there was some kind of decay mechanism that removed access after a certain period. After all, he had never actually seen Ning Yingying, but he’d initially had a good idea of her starting relationship to Luo Binghe after he first transmigrated, based on the timeline. So, that had probably counted as adequate observation.

It seemed even the System agreed with him that this storyline was too different to be predictable, so it made the unilateral decision to remove old and unreliable data.

In fact, from Shen Yuan’s perspective… the world around him was shockingly peaceful. Boring, even, if one wanted to make a more critical assessment. If someone wrote out the last five years of his life, it would be an extraordinarily mundane read.

Year one, work on destroying Luo Binghe’s seal.

Year two, work on destroying Luo Binghe’s seal.

Year three, work on destroying Luo Binghe’s seal, wait in fear of Immortal Alliance Conference, breathe sigh of immense relief after its passing.

Year four, finally break Luo Binghe’s seal.

Year five, physically recover from four years of slowly breaking Luo Binghe’s seal.

Maybe a better way to put it was… Shen Yuan himself was growing a bit bored.

The first four years hadn’t been so bad, if only because they were dreamlike. He slept a lot, he ate a bit, and he vicariously lived through Luo Binghe as the half-demon filled out into a nice young man and indulged him for hours with tales of his adventures.

Most of the fifth year had been fine too, if only because Shen Yuan was so overtaken by the novelty of not being tired that it felt like he saw his surroundings with fresh eyes. Mu Qingfang, who did not have knowledge of why it took this long for Shen Yuan to recover, gave the assessment that his meridians were filling out now after years of disuse. His spiritual veins were thirsty, dried up rivers that had only had to support a slow trickle until this point, and now they were beginning to rise with the accumulation of water. Because of that, his circulation was increasing, and his ability to regenerate spiritual power was improving.

If you had asked him, Shen Yuan would have assumed the entire process would make him sluggish and achy, instead it made him stir-crazy and energetic. And that, in and of itself, was a problem.

After all, his identity was a secret. And that relegated him to living within the confines of the bamboo house. With each passing day, it felt more and more like a cage.

***

A knock came at the door.

It was an electric shock for the bamboo house, although it wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. Shen Yuan moved to stand, Luo Binghe taking his arm, and they escaped to the kitchen. Talismans were placed strategically throughout the home for these exact sort of occurrences—anyone outside would have trouble discerning those within, and those in the main area could not sense persons lurking in Shen Yuan’s room or the back of the house.

Not to say that an individual could enter undetected. If a foreign presence tried to make use of these tricks, they’d find out quickly just how ruthless Shen Qingqiu’s violent side could be.

But once Shen Yuan was in the kitchen with Luo Binghe, they could both relax. From a distance they could hear Shen Qingqiu answering the knock, and it immediately became clear from his biting words that Liu Qingge had made a surprise visit.

Shen Yuan huffed a silent laugh at this, giving Luo Binghe a conspiratorially mirthful look. For years now, Liu Qingge had continually approached Shen Qingqiu in a manner that could be considered cordial without being outright friendly. It was as though he had some motivation to pester him, so pester him he did. And Shen Qingqiu absolutely loathed it. After Shen Yuan began to recover and Mu Qingfang made one too many trips to their home, this light badgering had extended to where Shen Qingqiu lived, too.

It made some sense, Shen Yuan thought. Liu Qingge probably thought, ‘If Yue Qingyuan and Mu Qingfang can freely go there, why can’t I?’

Of course, he didn’t realize that Yue Qingyuan was… well… in some kind of way with Shen Qingqiu, which often involved a bed. And Mu Qingfang came by with incredible frequency due to his being the only physician aware of Shen Yuan’s presence.

Naturally, no one could actually correct whatever kind of mental assessment Liu Qingge had made regarding visiting propriety.

Shen Qingqiu’s annoyed voice filtered in from the other room, and Shen Yuan’s amusement grew even if he wasn’t listening to what his brother was saying. It was the tone that mattered. Right now Shen Qingqiu was using his ‘I will gut you like a chicken, so help me’ voice.

Silently shuffling over to the window, Shen Yuan took in the opportunity to enjoy the view outside. There weren’t any silencing sigils up, but he doubted Liu Qingge would be here for more than a few minutes. Shen Qingqiu was adept at kicking someone out, even if sometimes it meant he had to leave with them in order to ensure they exited his home.

Luo Binghe came up behind him and then, after a moment, wrapped his arms around Shen Yuan, pressing his chest against his back. The protagonist was taller than him by this point, and wider too, so whenever he did this, it felt like being wrapped in a large, demonic blanket. Shen Yuan fondly patted his arm. Luo Binghe had begun to get sticky in this overly tactile way after his seal broke, which Shen Yuan suspected had to do with the full actualization of his demon blood.

Proud Immortal Demon Way had been very clear on the idea that demon brides were often way more needy and required far more physical affection than human ones. Why would it be any different with an overly coddled, clingy disciple?

But! This! Was! Always! A bit! Much!

System, please explain what this humble Shen Yuan did to get +100 reputation? Where did all that come from? Why did it never go down? Sometimes Shen Qingqiu would make a single quip and lose five points, but Luo Binghe could be gone an entire month and Shen Yuan’s wouldn’t budge at all! He hadn’t even demonstrated his spiritual ability since Meng Mo’s first appearance, so what kind of sword brother could he possibly be? And he barely even taught these days!

The only thing that mollified his turbulent thoughts was the concept that a fully demonic disciple would likely act this way if properly spoiled, so he shouldn’t think too hard about it. Why question the uncommon ability of flight when handling a phoenix?

Shen Yuan turned in Luo Binghe’s hold, smiling as he pushed that chest away. His disciple obediently peeled himself off of his person, grinning at him in a manner that caught in the light from the window. Sometimes, during moments like this one, it reminded Shen Yuan of how this character had originally wooed countless women. He was certainly of unparalleled, breathtaking caliber.

It would probably be best if the boy never knew his shizun thought that, though. What student wanted to be praised in such a way by an educator? It would make Shen Yuan out to be a lecherous old man.

Moving to slip past him, a few things happened all at once.

The two of them were dressed down, and Shen Yuan’s foot caught on the sliver of Luo Binghe’s robe which touched the ground. At the same moment, the half-demon had been pulling back, and that slight yank of friction under heel was enough to make Shen Yuan fumble. He reached for a counter, his hand missed, and then he was falling.

And he fell.

There was a great clamor as all of this went down. Luo Binghe’s voice began with an startled, “Shiz—,”

He grabbed him during the descent, arms coiling around his back to soften the impact onto the clay tile floor. And on the way down, they knocked into a few custodial items tucked off to the side, which tumbled with a clatter onto Luo Binghe’s back.

It was all very dramatic.

At first, Shen Yuan hadn’t quite been able to think straight, because his mind was struggling to understand what had just happened to him. Then, he stiffened as he felt hot breath on his face, and he blinked his eyes open to find Luo Binghe staring down at him, so close their lips were almost brushing. He was a blurry, handsome image, with a solid chest bearing down flush against Shen Yuan’s, legs atop his. Unsure of what to do, he shifted his position, but Luo Binghe’s arms around his upper half meant he couldn’t move his own, and when he moved his leg, one of his disciple’s fell suggestively in the slot between his thighs.

What the hell was this?

All of that processing must have happened in a single breath, because suddenly Liu Qingge’s voice rang out with a startled, “What was that noise?”

Wait. No. Oh no. He couldn’t see Shen Yuan’s face. If he did, his brother was absolutely going to kill him. No, no, no, no—

Suddenly, Luo Binghe pushed himself further up Shen Yuan’s body. And then he hunkered down, blocking sight of him with his arms as his hand curled around the back of Shen Yuan’s neck and gently pressed his face to his chest. He was so close to him, he could hear the half-demon’s heart thudding beneath his ear.

Oh! Clever.

Shen Yuan wasn’t dressed as some esteemed cultivator at the moment, wearing only loose white house robes. With his form difficult to see and his plain clothes, he could have been any beautiful, long-haired woman!

The ruse worked, because the next thing Shen Yuan heard was Liu Qingge making a kind of choked noise as he took in the sight of Luo Binghe engaged in some romantic tryst in the kitchen.

“You—,” Shen Qingqiu began in a voice that carried disbelief and insurmountable rage in one quivering exhale.

“He is at that age,” Liu Qingge stated, sounding both uncomfortable but also apparently wanting to defend him just slightly against Shen Qingqiu’s murderous intent. “And our… sect has no rules against…”

It didn’t really sound like his heart was in it. He had probably never excused something like this before, and he sounded lost.

This awkwardness caught the attention of Shen Qingqiu’s ire and Shen Yuan heard his brother whirl on the intruder. There was a sound like a fan guard hitting against a clothed shoulder. “You! Get out of my house!”

If that had worked before, Liu Qingge wouldn’t still be here. But under these circumstances, he didn’t need to be told twice. There was a mutter, some shuffling, and then the front door to the bamboo house opened and closed.

After that came a long pause, as if his twin was making sure the man was gone, and then—

A hand grabbed Luo Binghe by the back of his robes and hauled him up with impressive strength. It was at this point that Shen Yuan finally got a good look at the situation.

Shen Qingqiu’s face was actually quite red. It was an angry, embarrassed color, and it swept over his cheeks like gauzy cloth and even draped over his ears. Luo Binghe, on the other hand, appeared totally calm and unrepentant.

His brother’s mouth was open, sharp words already spilling out, but as Shen Yuan sat up slightly, he heard none of it. Instead, he turned away from them where he sat on the floor, sleeve pressed to his mouth and shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

Maybe it was because he had spent so many years weakened in this life and the last that he wasn’t used to this sudden surge of spasming energy. Since he had always been so tired, his laughter had typically come as a single exhale or the wry twist of his lips. Over time, he just became one of those types that mostly laughed within the confines of their own head.

He felt like some kind of unruly child who’d been found causing mischief in the family home. As the deep silence descended on the kitchen, he couldn’t even meet his brother's or disciple’s eyes. Why did their reaction make this funnier? It was making him so self-conscious his eyes were watering! Ah, but he couldn’t stop thinking about how Liu Qingge’s face must have looked as he bore witness to “Shen Qingqiu’s disciple” apparently having a liaison with “an unknown girl” in Shen Qingqiu’s own kitchen…!

Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky, this Shen Yuan has done terrible things to your storyline, and he’s not even the least bit sorry! Shoved into a chasm? Torn of all limbs? Who's that? Let them live a normal life like this! Can’t that be enjoyable too?

Shen Yuan hoped he never laughed this hard again. He nearly hurt himself.

***

“Enough is enough. He is an adult.”

Shen Yuan was supposed to be asleep.

Hearing Yue Qingyuan’s gentle hum, he rolled over and groped the table at his bedside for his muting ring. It was a trinket Luo Binghe had brought back from his travels once, and while an item like that had extremely limited usage, they had both understood its value in this case. After all, Shen Yuan had gently coaxed the boy into practicing creating muting talismans for him for years, and it didn’t take Luo Binghe long to figure out why he kept using them up with such frequency.

It wasn’t as though his brother and Yue Qingyuan were inconsiderate. The moment the two became at all self-aware, they silenced whatever happened between them on their own. It was just…

They were painfully romantic, leading up to that point. Rather, Yue Qingyuan was. Shen Yuan didn’t need to hear poetry or gentle music playing when he was trying to rest, so for the sake of Shen Qingqiu’s thin face, he feigned sleeping like the dead and blocked out the sound of their antics himself. Apparently, this was believable enough, seeing as he really slept through things he likely shouldn’t have been able to. When Luo Binghe brought him back that ring, he could have kissed the boy.

Who would have known that those girls from the comment forums had been so accurate in their assessment of the relationship between Shen Qingqiu and the Sect Leader?

Shen Yuan was just about to slide the soft green jade onto his finger when Yue Qingyuan’s voice traveled through the air and halted him.

“I can see your reasoning. He has lived here for several years now and is no longer a child. I hesitated to ask, but…”

“Children flock to our mountains; if my brother is so taken with having a pet, we can acquire any number of disciples for him.”

Wait. Wait, what?

They were talking about Luo Binghe? As in, kicking him out and replacing him? Shen Yuan felt cold dread creep up his neck in a way he hadn’t experienced for some time. Bro, please, we were doing so well and now you’re thinking about sabotaging all of that? And for what?

Besides, Shen Yuan didn’t want any other disciples. He had learned enough about teaching to be halfway decent at it, but his true ambition was to see the world someday. Luo Binghe was a special case, in part because he wanted him to do well in life and he had a particular soft spot for the protagonist. He had died consumed with sheer rage at the poor heavenly demon’s unsatisfying ending, so it could even be said that he was something of a vengeful spirit here to right a tremendous wrong!

“It is true that… you had no issue protecting him before that boy came here. I will miss this carefree side of you, though, Xiao Jiu.”

“Shameless,” Shen Qingqiu said, but there was no bite to it. It was actually disgustingly fond, which was why Shen Yuan usually hated hearing these conversations. It wasn’t as though he didn’t want his twin to be happy, it just made him deeply uncomfortable to bear witness to it without him knowing.

“In the morning, I will draft a letter to Huan Hua Palace. We can present it as an exchange of knowledge and suggest they send an accomplished disciple in return. After some time has passed, it should be easy to adjust the proposal for a more long-term arrangement. If they remain separated for three years, surely his attentions will turn to someone else.”

“I will read the letter before you send it.”

“Of course,” Yue Qingyuan soothed.

Shen Yuan remained frozen where he lie on his bed, barely able to believe his own ears. His fingers mindlessly fidgeted with the ring he had never put on, like a coiled jade snake rolling around on his palm. His heart was thundering.

They… wanted to send Luo Binghe away.

It wasn’t as if there was anything particularly wrong with that. Shen Yuan’s disciple was striking, powerful, and definitely far too old to cling to his shizun’s robes. In fact, sending him to Huan Hua Palace was an incredible opportunity. He would do very well there, and it was no question that he’d hit it off with the little mistress. True, she had never been Shen Yuan’s favorite wife, but to see Luo Binghe pursue anyone at all would be a relief at this point, even if it was her. Maybe she would suit his tastes, as he was half-demon? It was hard to tell.

This thought drudged up a dusty memory.

A few months before the Immortal Alliance Conference, Luo Binghe had told him offhandedly:

‘Shizun, I obtained a servant by the name of Mobei-Jun today. He said that with my heavenly demon blood, I could get any number of demonic brides. I thought that was a little foolish of him to say. Why would I want that when I have you?’

Brazen and unintentionally charming, yes. However, it had been one of the few times Luo Binghe had ever spoken on the subject of women of his own volition. Clearly, the idea of demon females had ignited some sort of emotion in him. For that reason, little mistress might not be the worst pick.

And yet…

Shen Yuan turned over, still fiddling with the ring.

Eventually, he realized the true nature of his bad mood.

With Luo Binghe around, even if he was away for a time, Shen Yuan had never felt alone. If nothing else, he could occupy himself with thoughts of his disciple returning. Should Luo Binghe leave in this way, it would seem like the end of everything. There may never be an eventual return, a warm greeting, a meal of lively chatter and fantastic stories. Worst case, Shen Yuan would next see the man at his wedding, and by that point he would merely be a face in the crowd—an NPC from the protagonist’s history, fated to only show up as a plot device or in flashbacks.

Shen Yuan wasn’t ready to be nothing more than history.

It seemed Shen Qingqiu and Yue Qingyuan were too occupied with collaborating to engage in affections tonight. There was some conversation for a while, which wandered, before eventually Yue Qingyuan said, “I will head to my peak and begin drafting that letter, then.”

Shen Qingqiu returned with, “I have some preparations to make as well. I will head to An Ding Peak to request provisions for the boy.”

“At this hour?”

“It will arouse the least suspicion.”

“I suppose so.”

And then, just like that, the two slipped out of the house like thieves into the night.

Shen Yuan waited a short while, then shoved himself up and out of bed. As Luo Binghe had grown, he had been equal in size to him at one point, and the robes from that time were tucked away in his chest. Shen Yuan pulled them on with haste, barely sparing enough time to be amused at how they were still just a touch too big.

And then he went to work shoving all manner of objects into the qiankun bags he’d at one time requested Luo Binghe purchase for him. They were of a much higher quality than Shen Yuan had given his disciple money for, but now he could only feel thankful, as they fit a great many things. One already had food and medicine stored away, so all that left was for him to pack whatever belongings he wished to take with him. His books ended up being the most difficult to select from.

As he was shoving unpacked objects back into his trunk, Shen Yuan’s eye caught on the jeweled mirror and he picked it up.

He was fairly certain that it no longer worked. Whatever Shen Qingqiu had done with it on the night of his transmigration, it never responded to Shen Yuan’s usage. At one point he’d thought it would be clever of him to replenish his own qi with that of their natural surroundings, so he could whittle away Luo Binghe’s seal faster. Even after reading a book on such objects, he still couldn’t figure it out.

It was probably for the best. Shen Yuan only came to realize later that pouring all his energy into someone else and then straining his own body by force feeding it foreign qi was a bad idea. The way he understood it, it was a lot like using an electronic device on full blast while also charging it. The battery would burn out quickly, except in this case, the battery was him.

Still… it was a pretty mirror.

And a hand mirror could be useful.

Shen Yuan packed it and returned to shoving things back into the trunk. Once he was done, he took a quick look around before putting on some wooden sandals and slipping out of the house. He would need something to cover his face, but with his hair down and his clothes that of a disciple’s, it was enough to obscure him in the dark.

Luo Binghe was asleep, and Shen Yuan roused him with a gentle touch. When he woke, the young man looked at him as if he had never seen him before.

And then his face became stricken as he noticed the three qiankun bags hanging from Shen Yuan’s waist.

“Where is Shizun going?” He asked, a pitiful creak in his voice.

Shen Yuan huffed a laugh and tossed him one of the bags. It was empty. “This master is, ah… leaving the mountain for some time. Does Binghe want to come?”

He knew the answer, which was why he even posed it as a question in the first place. Luo Binghe jumped out of bed with the grace of an acrobat and began packing with such swiftness that it made Shen Yuan’s efforts look leisurely.

Under the cover of night, they took a concealed side path down Cang Qiong Mountain, cloaked from notice by the cover of twisting trees and slanted cliff. Shen Yuan showed Luo Binghe an unknown cave system that followed a shallow stream—knowledge he had only because of having read about it in the novel.

They escaped notice of the mountain’s wards with ease.

As they stepped out into the open air, Shen Yuan realized that, for the first time in his life, he was really going on an adventure.

On Shen Qingqiu’s desk sat a note written in Shen Yuan’s hand. It was hastily scrawled, and all it said was:

‘I left with Binghe. Don’t look for me.’

Chapter Text

Luo Binghe wasn’t sure what was going on, but he was fairly certain Shen Qingqiu had upset Shizun.

He did not actually dislike the taciturn peak lord. There were some points of his life he felt were wholly unforgivable, yes. And Shen Qingqiu was just about as likely to offer an apology as he was to cut off his own hair. That was assuming Luo Binghe would even accept one from him. After all, what kind of monstrous personality did someone need to justify the abuse he had doled out to a well-meaning young boy? And Yue Qingyuan was respectable enough, but not much better, as he’d known and done nothing about it.

For Shizun to leave so abruptly in the middle of the night, the true culprit could only be the person who would oppose his flight the strongest.

As he did not disagree with this decision, the half-demon honored his shizun’s lie of omission and did not question his motives for this sudden excursion.

Personally, Luo Binghe found Mu Qingfang aroused a great deal more resentment. It wasn’t the man himself, however. It was what he represented.

Shen Qingqiu had the redeeming quality of being an exemplary brother, which begrudgingly forced Luo Binghe to accept him. Yue Qingyuan enabled conditions that ensured Shizun’s safety, and was also a good lover to Shizun’s brother, and so he was tolerable.

Mu Qingfang, as invaluable as he was… represented Shizun being unwell. The more often he darkened their doorstep, the worse Shizun was feeling. He only allowed Luo Binghe to overhear his diagnosis half of the time, shooing him away with infuriating persistence the other half. At this point, Luo Binghe's reflexive emotional response to Mu Qingfang’s face was gutted terror.

The air was dewy, the dirt road damp but firm, and Luo Binghe spared his companion a glance. It wasn’t the first look he would steal, and it wouldn’t be the last.

Shizun had directed them to a town near Cang Qiong Mountain, where they swapped their clothes for those newly purchased. It had distressed him, at first, when Shizun appeared overly interested in the simple, scratchy garb of farmers. Luo Binghe had needed to coax him out of buying them, because money was no issue for him. Instead of the best silks in the land, his Shizun had simply gone one rung higher and bought a light traveling outfit of slightly better quality. At the very least, the material was soft and wouldn’t chafe, so Luo Binghe had accepted it.

He’d intended to match Shizun, but the man had hummed a little, feeling at the sleeve of a black robe, and murmured, “Binghe really would look…”

Shizun hadn’t finished the sentence, but Luo Binghe had understood and purchased black. The way his shizun looked him up and down three times with interest had been more than worth it, even if the material absorbed heat more readily than what he was used to.

After, Luo Binghe had been firm on having Shizun’s wooden sandals swapped out for something that would be gentler on his feet. Shizun fought even harder on this point, citing that they were charming, before eventually giving up.

Expecting they were done, Luo Binghe had made to leave the shopping area. But Shizun surprised him.

The man wandered over to a vendor and quickly selected a straw hat with a white veil. It made sense, Luo Binghe had to admit. After all, he did share Shen Qingqiu’s face. Someone able to see past the lack of decorum might recognize him.

When they left that town, Shizun had appeared incredibly pleased. There was a cute bounce to his step.

He had since calmed, his stride easy and his steps graceful. It was this demeanor that had Luo Binghe sneaking little glances every so often.

Shizun was an enigma.

On the one side, he spent many of his days in idleness. He slept often and easily, made no effort to follow any sort of established cultivation routine, took great pleasure in delicious food, was easily distracted by company or thick books, and came across as an easy-going person.

And yet, on the other, he was so much more. Inexplicable comments, wayward musings, sudden bursts of formidable intellect—these things were commonplace. One breath he would seem to pay no mind to what was happening, and then next he would hum lightly, wave his fan, and move in to readjust Luo Binghe’s sword stance with the slight brush of his fingers.

His fortitude at doing something he had set his mind to was ironclad; who else could have withstood years of breaking down a demonic seal with such diminished power? An esteemed cultivator could have broken it in a month, Meng Mo told him. Yet Shizun had gently worn it down like a stream over rough stone, patiently reshaping it until it fell into wisps of nothingness.

The only way Luo Binghe could describe him was to be something akin to a god.

There and yet not quite. At ease and yet sharp. Quiet confidence in the face of the impossible.

In plainclothes, Shizun walked beside him, looking for all the world like one of the great beauties. His steps were deliberate enough to border on dainty, his waist small enough to tempt one to sling their arm around it. The veil obscured his features, but that only added to his air of intrigue. Luo Binghe had a gluttonous diet of observing that face, so being denied now made seeing it clearly in the future feel all the more exhilarating.

Even with how incredible he was, though…

Even with how he strode boldly, as if nothing could harm him…

Luo Binghe was not ignorant enough to assume his Shizun was all-powerful. In fact, he suspected the man may be extremely vulnerable. Even if he might have a powerful blade and honed skills, assuming he could execute the limits of his potential, Without A Cure was a major hindrance. A flare-up could occur unexpectedly. If Luo Binghe’s blood was not immune to such poisons, an affliction like that could even cause someone like him to take a fatal blow. And Shizun was delicate paper by comparison, his meridians in a state of recovery and his abilities rusted from disuse. A splash of water might be enough to kill him.

Needless to say, Luo Binghe was beyond overjoyed to be traveling with his shizun, but he was not oblivious to the reality of the situation. Shizun had a thin face, however, and so with that in mind, he gave away nothing that might reveal his innermost thoughts.

Really, this wasn’t all that different from a powerful, accomplished lord taking his prized empress on a sightseeing trip.

If Luo Binghe had his way, that comparison would be closer to reality by the time their journey ended.

He considered this.

“Shizun, you know… I…”

“Hm?” The man turned to look at him, and although the veil made it difficult to discern his expression, it was easy to tell he was curious.

Luo Binghe exhaled a laugh, mostly at himself, and shook his head. “I think we should stop to rest when we reach the next town.”

Shizun nodded. “Yes, that’s a good idea.”

The silence returned, and Luo Binghe became immersed in his own thoughts.

He needed to suppress his impulsiveness. It was far too early to say something like that. The setting wasn’t right at all.

Luo Binghe had waited this long. He could wait a little longer.

***

“Has Binghe ever heard of the Flower of Infinite Tears?”

Luo Binghe hesitated and gave the question some very real consideration. It took a lot of his willpower to do this. After all, his current situation was nothing short of surreal.

Shizun had allowed Luo Binghe to take them by sword a lot further than they would have managed on foot, and so by sundown they reached a small city that was outside the range of where the other peak lords might search first. Seeing that his shizun was tired, Luo Binghe had insisted on renting an inn room. He had generously asked after lodgings with two beds, wanting to be considerate of his elder, but the innkeeper had only had one room with one bed available.

Apparently, Shizun found this acceptable, so Luo Binghe had gladly paid for their night before thoughts plagued him because what did it mean that the man was so willing to share a bed with him?

Requesting a server bring food to their room was also a relatively simple task, although Luo Binghe found the delivered goods wanting. Shizun, too, made a knowing face at the dishes, as if to say that it couldn’t compare to his disciple’s cooking. That one expression filled the half-demon with incomparable warmth.

However, none of this prepared him for when his shizun would say, “Oh, yes, Binghe. Can you ask if they stock Honey Rabbit Wine? This master heard it is a specialty in Kuihua City.”

“Shizun… drinks?” Luo Binghe asked after a pause, astounded by this revelation. It seemed like a base activity that would be beyond an immortal cultivator, so in emulation of this Luo Binghe had never cared to indulge much himself during his travels. He had tried liquor at the behest of others, but the idea of drunkenness carried no value for him.

Shizun waved his black and white fan in front of his own face, amusement playing on his lips. “Well, no. Not usually. However, when texts call it ‘as fragrant as a goddess’ bosom and as sweet as the lips of a succubus’, it certainly inspires the imagination, does it not?”

Luo Binghe sat as still as a stone.

Bosom? Succubus? What kind of book had his shizun been reading?

Discomfited by the idea of Shizun wanting to know what those things were like in real life, Luo Binghe could only nod vaguely before leaving their room to ask about the wine. As it turned out, it was indeed a very popular local beverage, and so he returned with a small ceramic pitcher in hand and two cups.

He poured a serving for both of them, gently setting Shizun’s cup down in front of him. Then they both took a sip.

Luo Binghe frowned. It tasted like sugary, rotten fruit, and it made his mouth tingle.

He studied Shizun’s face for his reaction. The man’s brows perked as he looked at the drink. Something dark crossed his features, and then his expression smoothed into one of mild approval. “Ah.”

“Does Shizun dislike it?” Luo Binghe asked.

“No, this master finds it pleasing,” he answered vaguely. And then he added, “It is just familiar, is all.”

Yet before he could probe that curiosity any further, Shizun was asking him about the Flower of Infinite Tears.

“This disciple does not recognize the name,” he answered honestly.

Shizun nodded, as if he had expected this. “There is a solitary bloom that exists at the heart of the nearby Zantan forest. It cries saltwater, and they say it grows in the middle of a landlocked sea lake, which has spawned unique ocean fish. This master was thinking, if we could pluck it, would it not be a decent source of income?”

Luo Binghe had been nodding along to most of this story, but the end caught him off guard. “Income?”

“Yes. It would be easy to replant it somewhere and dry out the salt it produces. Isn’t that valuable?”

Salt was a luxury item, and merchants would be delighted to get their hands on pure salt from a legendary flower. Luo Binghe could follow the logic of the idea, but he still felt disoriented. His shizun just sipped his wine as though all of this was perfectly normal.

“Shizun…” He began after a long silence, a little guilty. “This disciple must confess something.”

“Oh?” The man said, giving him his full attention.

Luo Binghe shifted uncomfortably. “It is… true, a flower like that would be excellent for such a purpose, but this disciple… is considerably well-off. There is no need for Shizun to exert himself or work for money.”

“That’s your money, Binghe,” Shizun said. And that was all he said.

This stunned him on some level. After so long by his shizun’s side, he had gained the impression that the peak lord was unaccustomed to looking after his own affairs. Money and security were things other people concerned themselves with on his behalf. Shizun wasn’t selfish, so if left to his own devices, he was certain the man would adapt quickly, but for these matters to be the very first ones on his mind…?

He could have asked to see the red ocean wall flowers. He could have requested they visit the gold ink peaks. There were beautiful, majestic creatures tucked away in remote regions, and some of them were friendly enough to take away as a pet. How elegant would his shizun look with a spotted-moon weasel or a palm-sized dew fox on his shoulder?

And yet, the immortal master wanted to opportunistically obtain a flower that produced salt in order to ensure they would always have future lodging and meals.

Luo Binghe knocked back the rest of his wine in one go and looked shamefully at the single bed.

His shizun was unbelievably pure, and so he resigned himself to sleeping on the floor that night.

***

The first time Shang Qinghua saw Luo Binghe, the boy had been half-starved and digging holes.

The first time Shang Qinghua met Luo Binghe, he wondered who the hell this character standing before him was.

Two months before the Immortal Alliance Conference, Mobei-Jun had dragged him along to some meeting. As it turned out, it wasn’t simply a casual discussion with some random demon, but instead a semi-formal introduction to Mobei-Jun’s new superior. The look Luo Binghe gave him, the An Ding Peak Lord, as he learned Shang Qinghua was the servant of a high-ranking demon…

It could have melted the entire Northern Desert with its righteous intensity.

Truthfully, he had zoned out after that furious, betrayed glance. While Luo Binghe and Mobei-Jun traded tense words, all of Shang Qinghua’s focus turned to the situation at hand.

Before him, Luo Binghe wore white disciple robes, Zheng Yang hanging from his side. Yet his demeanor wasn’t meek or innocent—while definitely toned down, he still had traces of the cockiness and snarly sass of the post-abyss Luo Binghe. And he had somehow defeated Mobei-Jun already.

Shang Qinghua’s thoughts circled back to the obvious: Shen Qingqiu. He had given him the knowledge necessary to break Luo Binghe’s seal, mostly out of curiosity. After all, the original timeline doomed Shang Qinghua to death, so how much worse could it get, really? If that Qing Jing Peak Lord had actually gone and tried to do it, then that would explain Luo Binghe being far more demon than he was supposed to be by this point. Yet, Shen Qingqiu clearly hadn’t fully broken the seal yet, because if he had, the protagonist wouldn’t bother to hide the mark on his forehead while talking to a lesser demon that served him. So it was clearly a work in progress, which raised even more questions.

When the Immortal Alliance Conference went off without a hitch, and Luo Binghe didn’t even bother to show, that was when Shang Qinghua really lost the plot.

Weirdly enough, things had gone even more sideways than he could have predicted after that. One day, while in Luo Binghe’s presence, Mobei-Jun had cuffed Shang Qinghua across the head.

“You know, humans hate pain,” Luo Binghe had said dryly and disapprovingly, earning him one thousand thanks from his author-father. “If you really like that one, you probably shouldn’t hurt it.”

Somehow.

In ways that Shang Qinghua still couldn’t fully grasp.

These remarks were the catalyst that led to him eventually becoming married to Mobei-Jun.

Plot? Gone. System? Unhelpful. All it told him was that things were fine, and if he pestered it too much, it conveniently sprung a quest on him within the next few days as if to keep him on his toes. His life was a constant blade swing between certain death and affectionate-in-his-own-way husband. It was an endless fever dream. And he was immortal, so he couldn’t even hope for a painless escape in his old age.

Not that he would have wanted to leave Mobei-Jun, but the point remained.

At current, Shang Qinghua was at Qiong Ding Peak, patiently sitting in one of the chairs surrounding the large meeting table. Events like this were normally formal and even grand depending on the occasion, but right now it looked as though some poor disciples had hastily put everything together, and half the peak lords appeared to be in disorder.

Shen Qingqiu was the worst offender. Apparently he had been harassing An Ding Peak disciples in the middle of the night for some reason. And now this. His clothes were rumpled like he’d been in a fight, his hair was a touch out of place, and there was a savage look in his eyes where he stood and muttered furiously to Yue Qingyuan with an increasingly frantic, indecipherable tone.

A few other peak lords were watching this as well, including Liu Qingge. That the Bai Zhan Peak Lord had such overt interest in the spectacle wasn’t too strange, but his expression was schooled and thoughtful. He wasn’t simply enjoying the show. He was… concerned?

Shang Qinghua gave up attempting to understand this world, and he sighed as the amulet under his shirt went cold. It was a fun little artifact that, if properly attuned to, could be used for espionage. Mobei-Jun didn’t care to hide his usage of it, though, so it always went cold against his skin whenever his king was looking out at the world through his eyes and listening with his ears. Most likely, the demon had gone to his room and failed to find him there, so he was attempting to discern why. When the amulet remained frigid, it told Shang Qinghua that he had taken an interest in the pre-dawn assembly he was seeing. He intended to listen in.

Shang Qinghua had designed the item for Luo Binghe’s usage, which, of course, involved a few of his wives and a lot of sex. This world’s Luo Binghe probably didn’t need it though, considering he only visited the demon realm to cause chaos by randomly solving whatever problem reached his ears first. He was less a lord and more a monster-slaying sellsword.

Of course, when you killed the guardian beast of Demon Clan A because it had been eating members of Demon Clan B, that had political fallout which needed to be dealt with. It seemed like no one had told Luo Binghe that. And it was probable no one ever would.

Shang Qinghua barely ever saw his son, and yet he drowned in paperwork due to him. It really wasn’t fair.

Finally, the last missing peak lord wandered in, Wei Qingwei, and this crack of dawn emergency meeting could finally begin.

Normally, Yue Qingyuan, as sect leader, would be the first to speak, but after gaining everyone’s attention by clearing his throat, it was Shen Qingqiu who stepped forward. This caused an immediate ripple of displeasure from among some of their more irritable peers.

“A demon has kidnapped my brother,” Shen Qingqiu said, without preamble.

A couple of lords jolted at the unexpected announcement. A few looked perplexed, and one even made a noise of disdain. Liu Qingge frowned silently, but showed no other reaction.

“And your family affairs are Cang Qiong Mountain’s affairs now?” Wei Qingwei asked, sneering. Not that he lacked sympathy, Shang Qinghua thought, but the implication here was clear that this matter was being elevated beyond its normal standard.

Shang Qinghua sat in muted silence, attempting to understand what he’d just heard. Brother? Shen Qingqiu’s brother? But that was…

Yue Qingyuan stepped forward, raising a hand to silence the noise.

“A peak lord has been taken. Is that not a matter for the entire sect?” He said.

Everyone looked around, befuddled. The murmurings kicked up again. Wasn’t every peak lord in this very room?

Shang Qinghua's mind reeled back to hazy memories of a vague story outline and his stomach did uncomfortable things.

“Would Yue-shixiong care to explain this in more detail?” Qi Qingqi asked, sounding both doubtful and distrustful in the same breath. She had crossed her arms over her chest and her expression was cold.

Yue Qingyuan gave a nod. “It has been a heavily guarded secret until this point… but there are two peak lords for Qing Jing Peak. They are Peak Lord Shen Qingqiu and Peak Lord Shen Yuan.”

This time, a deep silence, like a canyon, stretched across the room. No one broke into gossip, because every ear was pricked and eager for more information, regardless of how absurd it sounded.

“I can confirm this is the case,” Mu Qingfang said from his seat. “As lord of Qian Cao Peak, I am among few who had access to the second Qing Jing Peak Lord.”

“Thirteen lords? Doesn’t that seem unlucky…” Someone muttered from further back.

“Unless there are more secret lords we don’t know about,” another commented ruefully.

Mu Qingfang was many things, but indulgent of Shen Qingqiu was not among them. The room became heavy with unease, as no one had an argument anymore. If the Sect Leader said there were two Qing Jing Peak Lords, then there must be two.

After a moment, Liu Qingge made a thoughtful noise, and countless eyes turned to him. He and Shen Qingqiu had a reputation, and no one wanted to miss what his response to this ludicrous scenario would be.

Yet his expression was not angry, nor disgruntled. It was oddly contemplative.

“This brother…” Liu Qingge began, words measured. “Does he look exactly like you?”

All eyes turned to Shen Qingqiu, who was rigid with rage, a sneer of hatred on his face. Apparently, Liu Qingge had plucked some kind of nerve.

“He does,” Yue Qingyuan answered in his stead. “They are identical.”

Liu Qingge nodded, mostly to himself. “In that case, I believe you. I have met him.”

A beat.

“Luo Binghe is Peak Lord Shen Yuan’s disciple, then?” Liu Qingge asked. For a man who was typically stoic or vigilant, he was uncharacteristically lost in thought. Shang Qinghua suspected that he and Liu Qingge were experiencing a similar state of mind. The Bai Zhan Peak Lord must have been trawling through his own memories, poking and prodding at anything that stuck out as odd.

If Luo Binghe was Shen Yuan’s disciple, then Shang Qinghua had also met him. It was that person he had encountered at the library who had clearly known about and wanted to break the blood seal. The twin from his initial character outlines. His existence never made it beyond the planning phase; Shang Qinghua had never so much as charted out his plot relevance.

Just as he was about to contribute that he, too, had met this unknown character—

Shen Qingqiu’s hands crashed down on the table with a snarl, all propriety gone.

“Luo Binghe is the demon who took him!”

Chapter Text

“Shizun, please stop trying to take your clothes off,” Luo Binghe said, and it wasn’t the first time.

He reached over to pull the man’s hand away from where it had tugged down the shoulder of his robe, dragging it back up again to cover the strip of exposed skin. Too low, too low, far too low—!

His shizun gave him a deeply aggrieved look. The edges of his cheeks were dusty peony, and his passively kind face unusually expressive as his brows knit together. “I can do as I like, Binghe.”

And yes, that was very true, but please have mercy on this poor disciple’s fragile heart. Shizun squirmed away from him, trying to divest himself once more, and Luo Binghe trailed after, batting his hands back and readjusting his clothing.

Shizun wasn’t exactly drunk. Luo Binghe had witnessed many people who were drunk, and the immortal master was nowhere near that threshold. However, two glasses of wine—because the peak lord had been insistent not to waste the remaining dregs—was clearly enough to put him in a mildly intoxicated state. With that, his inhibitions dropped, and his behavior turned alarmingly loose and exaggerated.

“Luo Binghe,” Shizun snapped at him, his voice somewhere between stern teacher and annoyed feline. The half-demon in question felt his spine snap straight.

And then Shizun started trying to pull his clothes off again.

Luo Binghe could neither laugh nor cry.

“Shizun, this lowly disciple begs of you,” he said, plucking his hands back and fixing him once more. “Please keep your robes on.”

“They’re itchy,” Shizun complained abruptly, righteous.

Ah, so that was the actual issue. Luo Binghe could only imagine how much worse shizun would feel had he allowed the man to buy the cheaper clothes. In the morning, they would purchase new ones made of finer cloth…

“In the haste to leave, did Shizun bring nightclothes?” Luo Binghe asked patiently, his hand cradling the man’s wrist. It was thin under his fingers, the skin soft and warm. He longed to smooth his thumb over it, only just barely resisting.

“This one did,” Shizun said.

He directed him to pull them out. Shizun seemed unfamiliar with removing things from qiankun bags, and so he dumped all the contents onto the bed to sort through. It was so very… Shizun.

Luo Binghe carefully put all the errant belongings away again as the man changed behind a screen, trying not to look in that direction lest he catch sight of some suggestive silhouette. His mind wouldn’t be able to take it, and the shuffle of clothing and the soft cursing was already making his heart jump in his chest.

He nearly collapsed in on himself when he heard Shizun issue forth a soft, “Fuck.”

Until now, Luo Binghe had never heard him curse. At current he was hearing breathy words that lingered in his mind long after they’d passed through his ears, and made his back quiver.

He had been certain of his longing before, mind fixed on the person who had stolen all of his affection, and it felt like he was being submerged in a hazy dreamscape. How many more sides did his Shizun have? Were all of them this adorable?

A couple of sexual imaginings bubbled up and Luo Binghe forcefully shoved them down before his demonic blood could latch on. Having gone on countless trips to various locations, he had learned firsthand that half of his heritage correlated fondness with obsession. Losing control like that now would be disastrous, and so he bit the inside of his mouth and willed his thoughts elsewhere.

His shizun emerged from behind the screen thankfully dressed, even if only in the single layer of a night robe. Luo Binghe had just stored the last item in the qiankun bag when the man flopped on the now clear bed, his legs lying off the edge. And then he did not move again.

Luo Binghe circled around the bed, assessing. At last, he sighed in his heart.

Shizun had fallen asleep instantaneously.

Maybe that was not so surprising. In all of Luo Binghe’s time with him, he had never seen his shizun perform so much physical activity in a single day. The man had glowed with excitement at every step, so Luo Binghe had never thought to ask if he wanted to rest. He was likely exhausted beyond measure.

Carefully, Luo Binghe readjusted Shizun’s position so that he was more fully on the bed, and then he draped the covers over him. Throughout, the man remained completely limp and lifeless. It was impressive enough that Luo Binghe checked his pulse, just to be sure.

Making himself comfortable on the floor nearby, Luo Binghe stared up at the ceiling, head pillowed beneath his arms.

This was all he could have ever wished for. And more.

***

Liu Qingge didn’t stay with the other peak lords for very long.

He was used to working alone, and his method for gathering information was particular to him. Following around Mu Qingfang would render him useless, as the other man would take the lead in all conversation. Yue Qingyuan treated Liu Qingge’s direct questioning with mild disapproval, typically undermining his authority in the eyes of his target.

The only person who was the exception, coincidentally enough, was Luo Binghe.

It was never Liu Qingge’s intention to grow at all close to the Qing Jing disciple, and he would hesitate to even call them that. At best, he held a certain level of respect for the individual. When hunting down the location of a beast, Luo Binghe never interrupted him, never displayed scorn for his techniques, and would peel away and perform his own search with timely ease. They worked okay together, which would never have been the case if he hailed from Bai Zhan. Liu Qingge would have told him to return to the peak and train, because that was what their peak was for.

Qing Jing, on the other hand, was… flowery.

Artistic and scholarly. Fluid. Airy. It smelled like nature instead of metal, and lingering nearby, one could usually hear soft music. For a disciple from that peak, Luo Binghe had impressive potential with a sword and none of the aloof softness one would expect of him.

Liu Qingge had agreed to educate the boy on sword form mostly because he did not know what else to do. Shen Qingqiu’s kindly worded letter had stupefied him, so he accepted the role of martial tutor. After all, since when did Shen Qingqiu confess to being lacking in any way?

And, of course, he had also accepted because at that point it felt like an obligation. It was a debt repaid.

Shen Qingqiu had been right about the stone tiger tree.

It unnerved Liu Qingge that he had harbored such doubt that he nearly almost didn’t seek Mu Qingfang that day. When he did, the examination was simple, and the man did not seem overly concerned about the situation. After all, it was a matter of a few harmful splinters, not a mortal wound. Mu Qingfang had given him some medicinal pouches to take with him in case his qi destabilized, and that was it.

Then, as if prophesied, Liu Qingge succumbed to a qi deviation in the Ling Xi Caves. Ingesting the powder from a single pouch was enough to temper him until he could calm himself. If not for that, his future would have been highly uncertain.

With such a polite request, Liu Qingge had no choice but to take on teaching Luo Binghe. At first the matter had left him feeling resentful, as if Shen Qingqiu had plotted this out in order to force his hand.

Yet the peak lord himself never so much as gloated about it to him. On the few occasions Shen Qingqiu saw Liu Qingge and Luo Binghe together, he looked openly annoyed. That gave him the impression that maybe Shen Qingqiu had desired to get Luo Binghe away from him, but the idea didn’t seem quite right either.

“Your footwork is decent,” Liu Qingge had commented one day.

“Shizun taught me that move!” Luo Binghe had declared with barely concealed admiration.

It made sense. The glide of his heels had been smooth and elegant. Had Shen Qingqiu really taught him that, though? If he took such pride in his disciple that he both instructed the boy himself and had Liu Qingge hone him, then why did he not boast endlessly? Luo Binghe was talented, and it made sense that the other peak lords should never have heard the end of it.

“If you are the head disciple of Qing Jing, do you really have the time to come to Bai Zhan every other day?” Liu Qingge had ventured once.

Luo Binghe had shaken his head, smiled brightly, and told him, “No. Ming Fan is Peak Lord Shen Qingqiu’s head disciple.”

No envy or displeasure lurked in those eyes. If anything, they were fiercely possessive and unwaveringly fond. It baffled Liu Qingge. The boy was more difficult to comprehend than Shen Qingqiu himself.

The strangeness failed to end there. It dogged Liu Qingge’s heels, cloaking his life with all the expansiveness of nightfall. He found himself attracted to the mystery, always catching wisps of it wherever he went.

Shang Qinghua returned from his expeditions, and shortly after started receiving tea from Shen Qingqiu with regularity. Face to face, Shen Qingqiu mocked him for being utterly useless and pathetic.

Liu Qingge also received tea, usually delivered by Luo Binghe himself. Shen Qingqiu never commented on it to his face, and their relationship did not improve at all. Uncertain of how to respond to this, Liu Qingge made several efforts to return the gifts over the years, but most were refused. The only ones Shen Qingqiu reluctantly kept were sweets, but he didn’t appear to enjoy sweets himself whenever they dined in the same location. Maybe he gave them to Luo Binghe?

And then Liu Qingge caught wind of Mu Qingfang making overly frequent trips to Qing Jing. At first he paid it no mind, thinking perhaps Luo Binghe was using his skills on his peers and whipping them into shape. But then he overheard something implying it had to do with the peak lord himself, and Liu Qingge’s urge to understand all of this deepened.

He started visiting Qing Jing Peak himself, every so often. Shen Qingqiu rebuffed him frequently, but it was always something of a relief to see that he was in good health, so Liu Qingge didn’t mind it.

Now, however, the mystery had unraveled itself for him.

Liu Qingge had conflated the existence of two men into one, and so the image was nonsensical. Luo Binghe’s beloved shizun was never Shen Qingqiu. The one who had requested him to be taught was never Shen Qingqiu. That day at the stone tiger tree had not been Shen Qingqiu.

It made sense, in retrospect. Liu Qingge had only infiltrated the peak with the mind that Shen Qingqiu had left it. Why he never questioned the man’s sudden appearance that day frustrated him now. He had always been privy to the most significant clue, and he had cleanly overlooked it.

A brief conversation with an elderly merchant revealed some information on their missing peak lord and disciple.

“Ah, yes. I remember those two,” the man said, stroking his chin. “The fairer man purchased one of my hats.”

Liu Qingge spared the veiled bamboo hats a look. Shen Qingqiu would probably rather eat a hat like that over wearing it, given a choice. But he also hadn’t been the one to buy it, either.

It was Shen Yuan—a person who bore the same face.

This hunt felt less like that of tracking a beast, and more like pursuing a fairy. It distantly reminded him of trekking through a deep, gnarled valley with Luo Binghe. One of those strange, flickering illuminations had found them and started guiding them along helpfully. Liu Qingge hadn’t trusted it, but Luo Binghe confidently told him, ‘It’s a jade butterfly night light. They come into existence through the desperation of countless travelers, and they like to lead people through tough paths. Shizun thinks they’re beautiful. Do you think I could capture it for him?’

Once, Liu Qingge had been told an old story about two dragons. One was vicious, breathing fire and scorching skies, and one was sweet, lying docile in cool spring waters. Shen Qingqiu and Shen Yuan sounded a lot like that.

Although, he had no question that Luo Binghe was likely an actual demon.

The word shizun had fallen from his lips with profound frequency. Liu Qingge sometimes talked more in the boy’s company, if only to distract him with the topic of their prey. A dozen hunts side by side informed him that this strategy only half-worked, so long as Luo Binghe’s shizun had never educated him on the monster, or on any other relevant monster they might find on the way.

Demons became attached to things easily and were hostile if something threatened that object or person.

Liu Qingge frowned as he thought back: Luo Binghe on the floor of Shen Qingqiu’s kitchen, a lithe figure clutched protectively in his arms, long inky hair spilled across the floor. That was likely Shen Yuan, and not some woman, as he had assumed. The incident had triggered Luo Binghe’s kidnapping. Had Shen Qingqiu tried to take Shen Yuan away from him?

The boy was strong, and demon blood would make him exceedingly dangerous. Luo Binghe wasn’t subject to the same instinctive norms humans had. If Liu Qingge attempted to take his shizun from him, he could easily lose an arm. Or his life.

It would be best to extract the peak lord from him quickly, before the relationship between him and his disciple deepened any further.

***

The Zantan forest was breathtakingly beautiful.

‘Leaves as soft as mink fur, white-trunk trees, ethereal branches that sway and swoop and interlock with those of other trees like the arms of a lover.’

That description tickled at the back of Shen Yuan’s mind, as though he was forgetting something. The feeling dissipated when Luo Binghe put a hand on his elbow and said, “Watch your step. The roots are difficult to see through the grass.”

“Oh, thank you, Binghe.”

The forest was a labyrinthine structure that guarded several precious treasures, each more difficult to reach than the last. Of them, the simplest to obtain was the Flower of Infinite Tears, which was only guarded by an altered maze array, a divine beast, and two puzzles. Shen Yuan struggled to remember the general order of things, since this location had featured a huge filler section, but when they ended up circling the same area half a dozen times, he figured the array was likely first.

“Ah,” Shen Yuan said, clearing his throat and feeling a little embarrassed at himself for being so slow on the uptake. “This master sees. We need to follow the trees with moss growing on one side.”

Luo Binghe looked at the tree beside him, which sported a hale patch of green moss, and then looked at Shen Yuan. “Why?”

“The one who set up this array was a tree spirit,” Shen Yuan answered. Which was as far as he was comfortable explaining it, considering it had been more like a sexy, large-chested dryad who had incarnated in the area after her grief over dying as a virgin. It was unnecessary for him to recall much more of what happened after that, but there’d been ‘feather soft grasses’ and ‘gentle caresses like wind’.

Shen Yuan hoped dearly that Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky’s ancestors were aware of what he was up to in his life and were waiting for him on the other side.

They exited the array easily, ignoring soft giggles that sounded from a breeze rustling the tree leaves.

The next part was a puzzle. Shen Yuan felt particularly resentful, so he scanned it once over before jabbing a stone in the wall that had a barely discernible chip in it. He stepped back as the spellwork crumbled, the stones clamoring to the ground before dissolving into dust and fading away into mist. There and then gone. He strode onward.

Luo Binghe followed him, silent.

When they reached the ocean-lake, Shen Yuan was a little startled. There was still a beast and a puzzle, wasn’t there? But they were already here, and in the middle of the expanse of water sat a sky-blue flower. Each one of its petals dripped beads of water at a steady interval, like it was softly shedding rain. The salt pool before them glimmered with bright, exotic fish. It was a dazzling sight, but Shen Yuan was sweating into his new collar and he’d long since let the hat hang from his back to allow his damp scalp a chance to dry. It was humid enough here that a woman might twitter and strip seductively as she looked at her man. That was probably on purpose.

Seeing he was exhausted and in a poor mood, Luo Binghe gave his shoulder a pat and said, “May this useless disciple have the honor of fetching the flower, Shizun?”

Shen Yuan gave the stretch of water a long, contemplative stare. He really didn’t want to have to swim across all that. Waving his black and white fan to cool his face, he said, “This master would appreciate it.”

He had little time to think about this before Luo Binghe was removing his outer robe, folding it neatly and placing his qiankun bag atop the garment. Then he turned and dove into the water with all the grace and poise of a fish.

‘Were you a dolphin in your past life?’ Shen Yuan thought to himself in reflexive agitation. No one should look that majestic when jumping into a lake.

Oh well.

Feeling worn out, Shen Yuan sat down on a stone near the edge to watch. His surroundings were gorgeous, truly, but his body ached all over. He wondered if it would be too much to ask to take a nap before they left the forest again. Apparently, the earth here was as springy and comfortable as a brothel bed.

He had never experienced a brothel bed, so he would take “Great Master” Airplane’s word for it.

Just as his mind was beginning to wander, stoked by the wet flames of heat, something slithered up his ankle.

Shen Yuan looked down, blank faced. A semi-translucent, green tentacle had slithered out of the near water and was climbing up his foot like a blind snake. The viscous-looking surface was refreshingly cool against his skin, and he stared at the spectacle for a few moments, unmoving.

The limb curled loosely around his calf, seemed to find some kind of purchase there, and then it tightened abruptly. Before Shen Yuan could react, it yanked hard, his entire body pulled forward by his leg. He yelped as his head cracked against the stone surface he’d been sitting on, making him see stars, and then suddenly salt water surged into his mouth as he was dragged beneath the surface of the lake.

Oh, right.

This was where the divine beast lived.

Chapter Text

It should have occurred to Shen Yuan that he was a cultivator.

Even if he didn’t quite know how to do it, it still would have been a simple matter to expel the water from his lungs, summon his sword, and make swift work of the seaweed-like vines that were tugging him down as they snared different parts of his body. And yet his head wasn’t cooperating with him, because he’d probably just managed to get himself concussed. This was highly embarrassing, considering he’d only been away from Cang Qiong Mountain for just over a couple of days.

So, instead of beating back the deadly lake creature like the proud immortal master he was… he just floated there, allowing it to drag him deeper.

A dark figure propelled into view, sleek and fast, and suddenly blood cascaded into existence like fireworks. Shen Yuan blinked as the monster ceased its yanking, watching as severed green limbs started floating upwards.

Strong arms caught him, and Shen Yuan felt his body give a physical, reflexive jerk as he gasped and more water crashed into his mouth. The hold didn’t loosen, but his savior’s speed increased as they brought him back up to the surface again.

Shen Yuan’s first reaction to air was violent coughing, so it was lucky that Luo Binghe was there to help him stumble ashore. All elegance gone, he hacked up burbles of sea water and probably looked a lot like a ghost with his wet hair clinging to his face.

Luo Binghe carefully set him down in the grass.

“Shizun,” his voice came in a burst of worry. He was equally wet, but that fact had only enhanced his innate beauty, and he was fixing his coughing companion with large, worried doe eyes. His hand moved to rub Shen Yuan’s back. “I shouldn’t have left you—,”

Shen Yuan didn’t really hear much of this, because his spine arched and he wheezed out a moan as pleasure skittered through his entire body.

A beat of silence followed. Luo Binghe retracted his hand as if burned, and Shen Yuan’s face went so hot his heartbeat pounded in his ears.

“S- Shizun?” Luo Binghe stammered.

“I—… This master apologizes,” Shen Yuan said, because it was the first thing he could think of.

After a hesitant moment, Luo Binghe tried to put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Do you think you can—,”

Shen Yuan had to bite his lip, but it only muffled the mewl that warbled in his throat. His shoulder throbbed like someone had just bitten him in the throes of— of that.

Decisively, he pulled his robe sleeve down to look at the affronted skin, and unlike the night before, Luo Binghe did nothing to stop him from exposing his bare left side. Closer examination revealed deep red welts, and it wasn’t difficult to put two and two together. Wherever the tentacle things had touched him, it had left behind this effect.

His mind, which was lagging rather terribly, finally drudged up the relevant information for this scenario.

This had been a mini-arc meant to woo over some warrior princess demon, who was as cool as ice and as hard as steel. She had accompanied Luo Binghe on this journey, decrying the ease of it the entire way, and eventually letting her guard down so thoroughly that the lake could effortlessly capture her. The divine creature was really the body of water itself, and the tentacles had been called ‘crystal water’s one hundred fingers’. They had an aphrodisiac effect, naturally, and so after ingesting some of the poison, the demoness had been so fitful with lust she yielded her vulnerability and the rest was history. Luo Binghe’s other sword won her over to the harem.

Shen Yuan stared at his shoulder with disdain.

Luo Binghe cleared his throat gently and then, careful not to touch him, dragged the wet clothing back up Shen Yuan’s shoulder. It was kind of funny. In the original work, the heavenly demon would have been tumbling in the grass with a sexy woman by now, but his disciple was so chaste that even the sight of bare skin on a male made him uncomfortable. He was unintentionally following in his inexperienced master’s footsteps.

“You and I are alike, Binghe,” Shen Yuan said consolingly. It wouldn’t be like that forever, though. Soon enough the protagonist would have his sexual awakening and then every high status man with an attractive daughter would need to be on guard. “You’ll make your wives very happy someday.”

His disciple moved to stand before finding a clear spot of skin on Shen Yuan’s right wrist and hauling him gently to his feet. “Shizun hit his head.”

“Mn.”

“This one should get Shizun back to the city quickly,” Luo Binghe said.

“You can’t fly out of here. There are man-eating snapper birds.”

“Shizun is very knowledgeable, but this disciple has other methods.”

“Oh?”

Luo Binghe extracted what looked like a whistle from his pocket and blew into it. An intricate pattern lit up the surface, but it made no noise. A breath later, the air turned to frost as snowflakes abruptly formed and then—

Mobei-Jun.

Ah.

Shen Yuan had never actually seen him before. He cut quite the figure.

“Take us back to our inn room,” Luo Binghe told the demon, and his tone was one Shen Yuan had never heard before. Strong. Neither friendly nor unfriendly. Commanding, leaving no room for argument. If a voice could be an unmovable wall through promise alone, that’s what his was in that moment.

Mobei-Jun gave a nod, and their location suddenly changed. Shen Yuan felt a disorientation, like being spun in a circle too many times. His feet tried to grapple with standing on wood flooring instead of spongy earth.

“That’ll be all,” Luo Binghe dismissed. And then Mobei-Jun left, taking the chill in the air with him.

It was a good thing they could teleport, Shen Yuan thought bitterly, because his legs gave out from under him and he just sat there, catching his breath. If not for the welts, Luo Binghe probably would have caught him in his arms, but his disciple was hovering and nervous, doing his best to be good and not aggravate Shen Yuan’s laughable affliction.

How were they supposed to have made it back like this? Should he have staggered and stumbled his way through the forest? Or should he have given in and allowed Luo Binghe to touch him? He could only imagine how utterly mortified his disciple would be, having his shizun moaning in his arms like some kind of lust-mad maiden…

They’d likely never be able to meet each other’s eyes again, in this lifetime or the next.

“Shizun… You…” Luo Binghe fussed, clearly unsure how to handle this very trite wife scenario. Shen Yuan felt a flood of gratitude that his disciple was still such a pure white lotus.

“It simply stings a little, Binghe. Nothing more.” He told him.

Headache? No. Confusion? Mild. Disorientation? A normal amount. Memory Loss? He wished. Sensitivity to light? No.

Probably not a concussion then, or at least not a very serious one. His dazed state had likely been more plot-driven than anything else. Maybe it was even a result of the poison? Either way, he fought with his qi for a moment before circulating his power through his body, forcing the welts to recede along with the other minor symptoms he was experiencing.

Luo Binghe made a sound of awe as he watched, concern melting away. “Shizun is incredible, as always!”

“Speak nothing of it,” he said, picking himself up from the floor. “Binghe is the one who defeated that beast.”

“I only chopped off a bit,” his disciple countered, like that couldn’t count as a genuine victory.

For a moment, the two of them stood there saying nothing, dripping wet.

“This disciple will arrange a bath for Shizun, then change and go buy ingredients,” Luo Binghe decided.

“Ingredients?” Shen Yuan asked. He would not refuse the offer of a hot bath right now, what with his sopping robes.

Luo Binghe nodded. “This one will cook Shizun’s dinner tonight.”

Shen Yuan couldn’t help the knowing laugh that bubbled up. The heavenly demon’s meals were beyond compare, after all. The food they’d had on their journey so far had been mediocre, and they were both aware of it. “That sounds wonderful.”

He watched Luo Binghe leave the room.

And then, tentatively, he dragged his finger over the flawless expanse of skin on his arm. Hot, wicked tendrils of desire stabbed into him the moment he touched anywhere the welts had been, the feeling sparking and euphoric. He suppressed the low whine in his throat.

Only the appearance of the marks had gone, not the underlying effect.

Like most poisons, one cure was heavenly demon seed, Shen Yuan thought ruefully.

Well, that wasn’t happening.

***

By the time Shen Yuan finished bathing, there was a fresh night robe folded neatly on a tray in front of the door. Luo Binghe must have placed it there before he went to buy food for their dinner that night.

He’d had high hopes that the bath would help alleviate the underlying skin irritation, but it didn’t. If anything, the soft lapping of water made him feel the unseen welts with more intensity. Shen Yuan had become so overly aware of every affected bit of skin that it’d been difficult to control himself…

Even the new, dry robes rubbed against his arms, torso, and legs, making him squirm.

‘I’m not sure how much longer I can survive like this…’

He had checked the System a while ago, but it hadn’t been helpful. All the logs showed were:

[User has accepted quest 「One Tear Too Many」. Completion satisfaction gain +1000.]

[User has abandoned quest 「One Tear Too Many」. User will suffer no point loss for failed quest due to protagonist trait You Are Worth More Than 1000 Flowers.]

When asked about the poison, the System said:

[Scenario Feature can be removed with the use of 15,000 satisfaction points. Y/N?]

That had sounded foreboding. What if he needed to get the highest score possible in order to save his or his brother’s life? Shen Yuan could imagine himself standing on some heavenly platform, being laughed at by this universe’s gods, who would roast him until he was nothing more than ashes. ‘This human gave up success just so he wouldn’t feel minor arousal! How very small-minded of him!’

No, he couldn’t risk doing something like that. There was too great a chance of it being foolish.

Shen Yuan resigned himself to just waiting it out. When his disciple got back, he’d inform him that his actions did not fully cure the poison, and they would need to stay here for a while until it abated.

Picking up one of his qiankun bags, he moved over to the bed, intent on dumping out the contents so he could sort through his books. He may as well unpack, in any case.

But he never made it that far.

Instead, the window suddenly opened from the outside and a man slipped in with all the grace of a trained assassin, distracting him.

Shen Yuan stared at the person, feeling an intense sense of déjà vu after having reacted to the tentacle earlier that day in a similar, slow manner. Before he could snap into action, though, he recognized them.

“Liu Qingge?” He said, bewildered.

The intruder stood up straight and looked at him. Shen Yuan felt like the guy was sizing him up as he gave him a brief once over. Who did this humble master look like he was going to fight, wearing only a night robe? Bai Zhan Peak Lord, please, not everything is a battle.

“Shen Yuan?” Liu Qingge ventured, sounding uncomfortable.

It suddenly occurred to him why Liu Qingge would be here—why he would know his name—and alarm spiked hard and fast in his body. Shen Yuan had even said not to look for him, but of course, Shen Qingqiu was stubborn and wouldn’t listen! So he’d sent the mountain’s best monster tracker! How cunning, big bro, to use this guy as your scent hound!

“Look,” Shen Yuan said, taking a step back. Liu Qingge matched it, taking a step forward. “This isn’t—… I’m fine. Whatever my brother said is an exaggeration.”

“Is it?” Liu Qingge said, doubt making his voice exert a heavy pressure.

I don’t know! What did my brother even say?

If he had to guess, Shen Qingqiu had probably told them he was frail and impulsive. It wouldn’t be out of character for him to storm around, claiming his twin was made of flower petals and would scatter to the four winds at the slightest touch.

“I can handle it,” Shen Yuan asserted, trying to stand tall. “I know what kind of danger I’m in; I’m not ignorant. And I’m stronger than I look.”

Liu Qingge gave him a hard stare and then drew his sword.

Always with the fighting!

He didn’t lunge, though. He just held it limply in his hand, as if silently challenging Shen Yuan to match him. So, of course, he did—

Or, well, he tried to.

At first, summoning his sword went well. It was easy, even. But then the fabric moving over his skin made warm pleasure travel through his blood, and he lost his focus like a water droplet hitting a calm pond. The sword summoning faltered, the blade vanished, and humiliation crawled up his spine. When he tried to call it again, his qi sputtered, not listening to him anymore. What a stupid time for Without A Cure to act up!

“…” Shen Yuan said.

Liu Qingge strode over to him, his sword already sheathed at his side. “Something’s wrong.”

The peak lord grabbed his arm, palm pressing into the sensitive skin, looking as if he was going to check his meridians. Shen Yuan gave a short cry, knees weakening, because deep, red hot arousal was viciously flooding his system.

“You’re hurt,” Liu Qingge said darkly.

“N- not… Not hurt,” Shen Yuan corrected breathlessly. “There was a… an incident. With some poison. It’s an aphrodisiac, you see…”

Liu Qingge released him and staggered back. “Oh.”

Shen Yuan looked up, face flushed, hoping maybe this would ease some of the fear that the peak lord had. After all, being affected by something stupid was much better than being wounded, no matter how mortifying it was.

Instead, however, Liu Qingge’s expression was fierce.

“Luo Binghe?” He asked out of nowhere.

“He… wanted me to bathe before dinner. He’s buying supplies…”

Liu Qingge thought about this, then nodded to himself. “I arrived in time, then.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to do this,” Liu Qingge told him, stepping forward, “but it’s the easiest way.”

Before Shen Yuan could question what exactly that meant, the peak lord’s arm shot out and jabbed a pressure point on his neck.

Even as his consciousness faded, his confusion only grew stronger.

What the hell!

***

The atmosphere in the rented room was dismal. The location was a small side house on the property of one of the more affluent farmers in the village, and the air was heavy with the scent of mud and crops. Shang Qinghua sneezed and shuffled further into the thin blanket Mu Qingfang had given him. The Qian Cao Peak Lord said nothing and kept to himself, whiling away his time by grinding herbs. Shang Qinghua wondered if he really spent his free time like that, then decided he didn’t want to ask.

The An Ding Peak Lord wasn’t altogether well-liked by his sect siblings. He knew this, and so he avoided them as much as possible. Traveling with any of them usually meant a valley of stilted silences and uncomfortable attempts at polite conversation. He’d given up on trying to form a bond with them years ago.

And yet a newcomer popped into existence, and suddenly every peak lord was eager for an excuse to leave Cang Qiong Mountain in order to search for him. It really made Shang Qinghua feel pitiful.

Liu Qingge, Shang Qinghua, and Mu Qingfang headed west, while Yue Qingyuan and Shen Qingqiu headed north. The other peak lords stayed back to watch over the sect in their absence.

Would five notably prominent men come searching for him if he disappeared? No. Shang Qinghua knew that from personal experience. Once or twice Mobei-Jun had abducted him without warning, and upon his return everyone greeted him pleasantly like they thought he’d simply gone on a months long trip.

Yet Shang Qinghua couldn’t feel entirely resentful. After all, he hadn’t come to help at all. He just wanted to see what this elusive and unknown twin was like.

The answer to that question came a short while later, when Liu Qingge kicked the door in with his foot, making the two in the room jump. Before either of them could express indignation, the Bai Zhan Peak Lord strode in smoothly with a man in his arms and placed him down on one of the beds.

It was Shen Qingqiu.

Well, no, it wasn’t. But it looked like him. Dead on. One hundred percent. Right now, as far as Shang Qinghua was concerned, he was staring at an unconscious Shen Qingqiu, hair lightly damp and wild, dressed only in a single thin white robe. It was as if Liu Qingge had snatched the man from his bed.

Glancing at Mu Qingfang, the man’s expression was complicated. Even though he met with this person regularly, it was apparently still jarring to see him in this state. Yeah, yeah, me too, buddy, Shang Qinghua agreed.

The Shen Qingqiu look-alike was breathing softly in the silence, but he exhaled in a raspy way, like he was sick. Mu Qingfang rose from his chair and walked over, kneeling at the bedside for a better look.

“Don’t touch him,” Liu Qingge warned.

Mu Qingfang frowned. “Why?”

“Don’t touch him… carelessly,” the first peak lord amended. “Luo Binghe fed him a poison meant to cause…”

A beat. Liu Qingge was thinking.

“… interest,” he finally settled on.

Shang Qinghua absorbed this information, but couldn’t find any reason to doubt it. If the blackened protagonist wanted to poison someone, he would do so without a second thought.

“So, he is sensitive to touch,” Mu Qingfang deduced.

Liu Qingge gave a stiff nod. He then glanced at the prone form. His expression hardened, and he turned to leave, dropping a qiankun bag on the table as he went. “I’ll be outside.”

He even shut the door after himself.

After examining this Shen Yuan guy’s visual appearance for a while, Mu Qingfang pulled out some cloth gloves. Shang Qinghua watched all of this without reservation. He was unlikely to get many chances to observe this surprise character, and he didn’t want to miss any of the details the world had filled in for him.

When Mu Qingfang gently picked up the man’s arm, a soft noise came from the sleeping figure’s throat. It was breathy, like the quiet moan of a sweetheart.

Shang Qinghua jolted where he sat, but Mu Qingfang showed no expression. The only sign that he was uncomfortable was his shoulders tensing. After all, the voice was just like Shen Qingqiu’s, and it wasn’t like either of them had heard the peak lord express that kind of pleasure before…

Silence weighed the air down as both men stared at the twin in apprehension.

So that was why Liu Qingge had bolted. It was unimaginable what he had gone through to get here. Shang Qinghua’s mind was racing. He tried to envision that respected swordsman riding atop his blade, wind whipping his clothing as he brought his charge here at top speed, all the while having to endure erotic sounds from a form that looked identical to Shen Qingqiu.

What was Liu Qingge feeling now? Revulsion or arousal? Shang Qinghua desperately wanted to know.

“You may leave, if you wish,” Mu Qingfang said as he lowered Shen Yuan’s arm carefully and ignored the weak whine his patient made in return. “I will need to apply a salve to his skin to remove the concoction’s influence. It has a qi disruption element to it, and has hindered the flow of his spiritual veins. This could take some time to undo.”

Shang Qinghua opened his mouth, happily about to accept the opportunity not to stay here for this. After all, even if he was curious, his feelings were far too mixed. Shen Qingqiu was extremely attractive, so naturally an identical twin was as well. He was married, and his king was his everything, so becoming aroused by someone else would be indecent.

However, the amulet lying over his chest cooled down. Suddenly, he was being used as a tool. It was easy to deduce that after seeing Shen Yuan gone, Luo Binghe had gone to Mobei-Jun. If his husband realized he was with the other peak lords, then he probably also realized that Shen Yuan might be there too. And thus the amulet.

Luo Binghe had to know by now that Cang Qiong Mountain thought he’d kidnapped the man. Mobei-Jun had seen their meeting where Shen Qingqiu announced it.

Thinking a few steps ahead, Shang Qinghua resigned himself as he looked at Mu Qingfang and said, “I will stay. It would be better for there to be witnesses to not cause a misunderstanding.”

He only spared the prone figure enough of a glance to give Mobei-Jun sight of him before looking away.

“I suppose that is wise,” Mu Qingfang agreed, taking no offense to the idea that someone might mistake him for a molester because of the unwanted noise his patient made.

Shang Qinghua turned toward a wall, as if out of politeness, then fiddled with his hands.

Rather, he watched his own fingers as he signaled out a code to his king. Normally he might give a report by talking to himself, but this was way too awkward a situation, so he resorted to his tried-and-true backup.

Straight side hand, danger is here. Because Liu Qingge was not an easy person to beat, even for someone like Mobei-Jun. If he and Luo Binghe teamed up, sure, but the warning still applied. They couldn’t just charge in here.

Circle hand left, crooked hand right, somewhere north. Of Cang Qiong Mountain, anyway. He did not know where Liu Qingge had picked Shen Yuan up from.

Flat hand left and right, target is okay. Shen Yuan was safe.

Thumbs together, receiving treatment. He’s getting medical attention right now.

After a moment, Shang Qinghua hesitated and then…

Tips of his fingers together, I’m sorry in advance my king for troubling you. He used that one a lot.

A moan sounded from further in the room, as if ripped straight out of a pornographic movie. Shang Qinghua squeaked. The amulet went sharply cold. Mobei-Jun was angry.

Both hands flat together, I’m so so so so sorry really truly don’t hurt me. He used that one even more frequently.

The icy metal eased down to something normal, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

Eventually, the temperature warmed, meaning Mobei-Jun was probably reporting the information to Luo Binghe. After half an incense’s time, the chill returned. Shang Qinghua had not so much moved a muscle, all to ensure his king that he wasn’t getting up to anything nefarious while outside of his watch.

The soft sounds went on for so long the sun was about to rise. Finally, they vanished entirely. Mu Qingfang stepped away from his patient with a stone face, looking as though his soul may have fled his body after such a tiring experience.

“I’ve soothed the affliction, and his meridians are clear,” Mu Qingfang announced. He looked dazed, then said, “I will go see where Liu Qingge is.”

An excuse, and a poor one. The man stepped out of the room, leaving Shang Qinghua alone with the now utterly quiet Shen Qingqiu twin. The coolness of the amulet deepened as he cautiously approached Shen Yuan’s bedside, but it never turned frosty with anger, so he figured he was safe to meddle a bit.

“Hey,” he whispered, poking the guy’s arm. He was glad when the figure didn’t moan or anything. “Hey, Shen-shixiong. Wake up.”

He prodded for a bit until finally Shen Yuan’s face twitched, and the man opened his eyes. Shang Qinghua thought briefly to a description of ‘eyelashes like black fans’ and wanted to slap himself. Of course, this person was pretty; they were identical to Shen Qingqiu, elegance incarnate!

Shen Yuan appeared sleep-addled and groggy, and so he didn’t fully react to Shang Qinghua’s presence at first. Then, when he finally looked at him, he squinted before his expression became extremely hostile.

Whoa, whoa, whoa— which Shen was this again? Or were their personalities the same too? How nightmarish!

“Sorry, has this shidi met you before?” Shang Qinghua said, putting up his hands. “Why do you look at me as if you want to bite me? Your name is Shen Yuan, isn’t it?”

The man sat up, unaware that his robe was loose and showed some of his chest. Shang Qinghua wasn’t going to tell him, anyway. But Shen Yuan rewarded his kindness by grabbing his collar in a rough, but ultimately weak, way.

“You’re a traitor,” this Shen-someone said drowsily. Maybe it was the medicine that had made him sluggish, because his words were a little slurred. “You hurt people.”

Well, this couldn’t be Shen Qingqiu. If he thought that, Shang Qinghua would already be dead.

“Who have I hurt?” He asked. True, the original Shang Qinghua had caused havoc, but not him. He was a happily married man. He did paperwork!

This seemed to stump Shen Yuan, because he frowned. It was expressive and cute. Yeah, definitely not Shen Qingqiu.

“No one…” He said, eyeing him. “That I know of. Mobei-Jun keeps you in line.”

Shang Qinghua considered this. “Why do you think that? Because he serves Luo Binghe?”

Shen Yuan nodded.

“And… Luo Binghe serves you, does he?” Shang Qinghua asked, feeling bold.

Shen Yuan shook his head.

“So you didn’t break his seal in order to gain his gratitude and force him to repay the debt?” Shang Qinghua asked.

Shen Yuan shot him an annoyed look. “No.”

“Then why did you do it?” Shang Qinghua said. This entire line of questioning wouldn’t work on a cognitively aware person, but no matter what he said, this secret peak lord was just answering without a care. Either he was a very open person, or he was heavily drugged. It was unclear which was worse, in this case.

For a long moment, Shen Yuan said nothing. He was staring off at some middle distance. Finally, when he opened his mouth, all that came out was a soft, “To give him a fighting chance…”

After that, he looked around, assessing his surroundings.

“Speaking of,” he said, “where is Binghe?”

Shang Qinghua suddenly had a realization that made his blood want to flee his body.

Were…

Were this man and Luo Binghe… lovers?

Did Cang Qiong Mountain fail to save a kidnapping victim, and instead spirited away the protagonist’s male wife?

Shen Yuan frowned at his silence, but then realized there was a somewhat minty-smelling substance covering almost his entire body beneath his robe. “Oh, that poison has been cured!”

A substance that made someone sensitive to touch, who would moan and—

This was a member of the protagonist’s harem. Undoubtedly. He wasn’t certain why it was a man, but a lot of things in this world had been overturned, so who cared? What was important was that random people didn’t just get roped into those lascivious events for no reason, let alone people in close proximity to Luo Binghe.

And now Shang Qinghua was alone with this person, poised as the only guard protecting a peerless princess.

He wanted to scream inside his heart.

Why was he always relegated to these shitty cannon fodder roles?

Chapter Text

Shen Yuan felt woozy, smelled of mint leaves, and he was barely dressed.

Most of these issues were solved shortly after waking up. Mu Qingfang brought him a spare change of clothes, which he put on behind a screen, and the disorientation subsided over time. There was nothing for the matter of his skin smelling strongly medicinal, but it was far better than the way he had been before.

The problem was, he couldn’t recall how he had ended up in this place. He remembered the inn room, bathing, and then something about Liu Qingge…

And that was it.

After he asked Shang Qinghua where Luo Binghe was, the An Ding Peak Lord had laughed suspiciously and then assured him he was around and they would probably see him soon. With those words, he’d scurried away to inform the other peak lords that he was awake, and so on.

Maybe Luo Binghe had been at a loss as to how to cure him? Did he collapse so his disciple anxiously requested help from Cang Qiong Mountain? It was a blur, and no one was really giving him a straight answer, so he eventually stopped asking.

Mu Qingfang brought him some congee. It wasn’t as good as Luo Binghe’s, but the dish was easy on his unsettled stomach. Oddly, though, the man didn’t speak all that much with him and seemed to make any excuse he could find to head outside. Liu Qingge was similar in demeanor, but it made more sense, given who he was. The Bai Zhan Peak Lord had died early in the original novel, so Shen Yuan didn’t know too much about him, and he clearly wasn’t the talkative type.

This unfortunately left him with Shang Qinghua, who was the talkative type.

He would rather be alone.

“Looking at you in that outfit, you really look exactly like your brother,” Shang Qinghua opened conversationally after the silence had gone on too long. “It’s eerie.”

Shen Yuan looked down at himself. “Of course I look like him. These are his clothes.”

Shang Qinghua nodded, although his eyes lit up like he was tucking that detail away somewhere in his treasonous little head. “What are yours normally like? Green not your color?”

“There’s nothing wrong with green,” Shen Yuan sighed. His fingers twitched. He had become used to holding a fan, but that was probably on the table in the inn room, where he’d left it last. “I simply don’t need a complicated wardrobe, so I wear white.”

“Is that because Shen-shixiong never leaves the house?”

Shen Yuan just gave him a narrowed look, because Shang Qinghua was asking a question he obviously knew the answer to. The rat man put his hands up.

“Alright, alright. No need to give me that face. You two glare in exactly the same way, you know? It’s terrifying.”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, then walked over to grab his qiankun bag off the table. Moving over to the bed, he upturned it and dumped the contents out.

After a moment, Shang Qinghua asked, “What are you doing?”

“I wanted a book.”

“You couldn’t just pull the book out?”

“I rarely travel,” Shen Yuan said curtly. “I have never used a pouch like this before.”

“That so?” Shang Qinghua hummed, sidling closer.

The snake in the grass clearly wanted to get a good look at his belongings, and there wasn’t much Shen Yuan could do to dissuade him. He wasn’t that concerned, though. Nothing from this bag was embarrassing or overly personal.

Then Shang Qinghua unexpectedly leaned down and picked up Shen Yuan’s mirror.

“Hey—,” he moved to say, trying to grab it back, but Shang Qinghua moved beyond his reach.

“Why do you have this?” The An Ding Peak Lord asked, brows raised high.

“It’s a spiritual conduit,” he said, figuring the other man could draw any kind of conclusion he liked from that. There was no real reason to tell him he’d only brought it because he’d been feeling sentimental.

“No,” Shang Qinghua said, giving him a strange look. “It’s not.”

Shen Yuan frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

“There are spiritual conduits that look like this, yes, but this isn’t one of them,” he told him. “This is the Mirror of Two Images. It’s an ancient relic used to shatter souls.”

While Shen Yuan had absolute trust in Shen Qingqiu’s knowledge and intelligence, the way this person spoke with such utter certainty unnerved him. Moreover, Shang Qinghua was an operative who had been working closely with demons for years. He had access to a vast wealth of knowledge the other peak lords didn’t.

“You really didn’t know,” Shang Qinghua deduced from Shen Yuan’s surprise.

Deciding there was no reason to lie, he shook his head. His eyes flicked back to the mirror. “What does it do, then? I’ve never been able to get it to work.”

“If you thought it was a spiritual conduit, that makes sense,” he told him. “It requires a special set of arrays and some blood to operate it, so it would be impossible to activate by accident.”

Shang Qinghua turned the mirror over in his hands, neither fearing it nor treating it preciously. He seemed more intrigued than anything as he ran his fingers over the jewel-encrusted silver.

“The Mirror of Two Images can be a torture device or a restorative one,” he said. “With it, it’s possible to split a person’s soul into so many shards that they’ll cease to exist. Yet you can also reassemble that soul using it. A mad demon king crafted it thousands of years ago. He had a rival, and he wanted that rival to suffer for all eternity, even after having killed him. Being shredded up that way is painful, alive or dead.”

“That’s such a foolish name for something so powerful,” Shen Yuan commented.

Shang Qinghua abruptly barked a laugh and waved the mirror at him. “What, you don’t like it? Isn’t it kind of clever? Two Images, right? Doesn’t that evoke a sense of ‘what is good and what is evil’? Or ‘which is the true self, the one in reality or the one in the mirror’?”

Shen Yuan shook his head. “It sounds like something a child named.”

“You two really are related,” Shang Qinghua complained aloud. He seemed to regret it instantly, considering what he’d just said and what the consequences of that implied. Shen Yuan found it amusing, however.

Maybe he would have taken it as an insult when he first arrived here, but five years of being coddled by that same twin had made him form a large soft spot for the man.

“Where did you get this, anyway?” The An Ding Peak Lord asked him.

“Well, my brother said he had used it to help heal me when I was unwell… so when I left, I thought it could have some use,” Shen Yuan said. It was the truth.

“Heal you?” Shang Qinghua asked, clearly not believing this story in the slightest. “What sort of injury did you have? The only way this relic could be helpful was if he wanted to reassemble the broken fragments of your soul by force. And if you had been in a state like that, you wouldn’t have survived very long.”

Shen Yuan opened his mouth. Then he closed it again.

A cold sweat broke out over his skin.

When Shang Qinghua gave him an interested glance, Shen Yuan shook his head and cleared his throat.

“You’re right, I probably misheard him,” he said. “I doubt he used it for anything like that.”

***

When the missive arrived that Liu Qingge had secured his brother, Shen Qingqiu felt an immense weight lift off of his chest.

He instantly departed their meager lodgings to head to the site where they were keeping him, and upon his arrival his disgust at the village room they were staying at barely registered. Whether in a palace or a dungeon, he didn’t care, so long as his brother was safe and sound.

Shen Qingqiu charged in like a bull, ignoring the three other peak lords in the room in favor of the only one he actually liked.

His brother was sitting at a table, reading, and looked up in surprise at his appearance. “Jiu-ge!”

“Don’t you ‘Jiu-ge’ me,” he snapped, striding over to scold him. He gently hit his twin’s head with his fan to enunciate every word. “What could you have possibly been thinking, A-Yuan?”

Shen Yuan only looked bashful, but not at all ashamed. “I left you a note.”

Shen Qingqiu gave him one last, firmer smack for that.

“Ow.”

“A note? A note! You mean the one that implied that you were running off to— to… seclude yourself away with that miserable dog?”

His brother’s eyes were bright, full of energy and the life of youth, and Shen Qingqiu adored that about him. Yet with it came a shamelessness that he had never borne witness to, and it left him with mixed feelings.

“I overheard Yue-Qi and you discussing sending him away,” Shen Yuan confessed.

“For your own good!”

“What does that have to do with me?” Shen Yuan countered. “Whether he trains under anyone else, that’s a matter for Binghe.”

“If it has so little to do with you, why did you leave?” Shen Qingqiu asked, sneering.

“I wanted to travel,” his twin said. “It would be a shame to not witness Binghe in the field before he left. I said I would be fine.”

“You said ‘don’t look for me’.”

“Yes! Because you didn’t need to,” Shen Yuan agreed.

“So,” Liu Qingge abruptly cut in, and Shen Qingqiu sent him a dark look as the man’s gaze flitted between him and his brother, uncertain. “Were you kidnapped or not?”

The question was directed to Shen Yuan, but he answered in unison with his twin.

“Yes!” “No?”

Liu Qingge hesitated. “And the aphrodisiac was…?”

“The what?” “That’s not…”

***

“Hey.”

Shen Yuan looked up from his book.

For about an incense’s time now, his brother and Yue Qingyuan had been furiously arguing in a corner and he had been doing his best not to listen to them. Shen Qingqiu, in particular, harbored some very embarrassing misconceptions regarding himself and his disciple, so it was better not to indulge it by eavesdropping.

Shang Qinghua and Mu Qingfang had made themselves scarce, leaving Liu Qingge as the only other person there.

The Bai Zhan Peak Lord handed him a bowl of food. It was roasted meat, simply cooked and lightly seasoned.

Shen Yuan accepted the offering, surprised. “Did you cook this?”

Liu Qingge nodded and sat down in the chair across from him. He had just come in from outside, so he must have been making dinner then. The results were strangely fitting.

“Thank you,” Shen Yuan said. He couldn’t imagine how many people had eaten Liu Qingge’s cooking before. From what he understood, the man was fairly solitary and closed off. Apparently, he was a much more benevolent spirit than Shen Yuan had taken him for. Then again, he trained Luo Binghe for him without question, so maybe he was being unfair.

He ate the food quietly. It wasn’t as good as his disciple’s cooking, but it was a cut above the congee, so he couldn’t complain even in his own thoughts.

“No,” Liu Qingge said after a lengthy silence.

Shen Yuan looked up at him.

“I should thank you,” the man continued.

“Why?”

“You saved my life.”

“When did I do something like that?” Shen Yuan said.

“Ling Xi Caves,” Liu Qingge answered shortly.

“You figured it out, then.”

“You approached me as Shen Qingqiu,” he said. “You pretended to be him.”

“I was convincing, wasn’t I?” Shen Yuan said.

Liu Qingge frowned, staring at him. He had the piercing eyes that a noble beast might have, always observing others as if they were prey. Finally, he answered, “No.”

“Oh.” Shen Yuan wasn’t sure how to respond to that. After a moment, he shrugged to himself and took another bite of meat. “Well, that’s alright. Jiu-ge is a difficult person to imitate.”

Neither of them said anything for a while.

Finally, Liu Qingge broached the silence, but his expression gave away the fact that he was uncomfortable. “You and… Luo Binghe…”

“He did not kidnap me,” Shen Yuan assured him.

“…”

“He’s a fine, upstanding, handsome young man,” he continued.

Liu Qingge’s face darkened slightly.

Shen Yuan sighed. It seemed no matter what he said, the peak lords wouldn’t listen to him.

“Luo Binghe is a demon,” Liu Qingge offered, like he was curious how the person before him would respond to that statement.

“Half, yes.” Shen Yuan conceded. “Has this master’s disciple ever caused Shidi any unpleasantness while traveling together?”

Liu Qingge’s brow twitched at the playful use of ‘Shidi’, but his shoulders relaxed. “No.”

“See?” Shen Yuan said. “Binghe is strong, but valiant. Truly upstanding.”

Rather than relent, Liu Qingge simply sighed.

Shen Yuan could only huff and quietly complain to himself. “You’re all so unreasonable.”

***

Mobei-Jun gave the field of obliterated trees an impassive stare.

“Junshang,” he said after thinking it over for a time. “Are you still feeling upset?”

Luo Binghe had been standing before the carnage for a while, arms folded rigidly as he glared at nothing in particular. The cut of forest before them was some distance from Shang Qinghua’s current location—close enough to be at hand, but far enough to go unnoticed. The great lord beside him had spent a good deal of energy destroying these trees one by one, using only his bare hands and physical strength, yet he was not so much as sweating. He looked immaculate and grim.

When Luo Binghe failed to answer, Mobei-Jun allowed his own thoughts to wander. He was in a so-so mood himself. It did not please him that Shang Qinghua had spent a great deal of time in the presence of someone so verbally aroused, but it eased his mind that a demon of higher status had already claimed such a person.

Besides, there was little either of them could have done about it. Luo Binghe had told him, in no uncertain terms, ‘He will stay and cut off the hand of anyone who dares take advantage of Shizun’s current state.’

Voice cold. A black fire, promising a void from which no soul would ever crawl out of.

Mobei-Jun thought about this for a long time, wondering if it would be possible to emulate the great lord and take Shang Qinghua on some manner of vacation. Humans appeared to find the notion romantic, and considering the state of the man called Shen Yuan, many things could happen.

His finger gave a soft twitch. Shang Qinghua was sensitive, but that could be improved upon, apparently.

“Junshang,” Mobei-Jun asked, “how did you invite your person to take on this journey with you?”

This question roused Luo Binghe from his brooding, and the half-demon turned to look at him with a hard but quizzical look. “I did not. Shizun invited this lowly disciple to walk the path with him.”

Mobei-Jun imagined Shang Qinghua proposing such a venture and was filled with indescribable longing. “I see.”

Inspiring another to act as one wished was not practical. Mobei-Jun set this wayward hope aside. Shang Qinghua did not react well to anything indirect, so he would simply need to be direct with him.

“Will you be retrieving him soon?” Mobei-Jun asked. As Luo Binghe was still angry, it seemed a relevant question.

Luo Binghe exhaled a snarled sigh and shook his head in the negative. “Shizun is with those other peak lords. They know what I am and drew their own conclusions, so if I charge in recklessly, they’ll fight me.”

“Junshang would win,” Mobei-Jun pointed out.

“Yes, but killing them all would upset Shizun.”

Mobei-Jun tucked this idea away for later, to ask if his killing anyone he knew would upset Shang Qinghua. It would be good to know in advance.

The great lord turned, waving his hand dismissively as he walked away. “I’ll speak with Shizun about it and decide what to do after that.”

***

When Shen Yuan dreamed, it was muddled.

It had been so overwhelming to be surrounded by so many people in a foreign place that it was all he could do to float along the river, so to speak. When night fell and he laid his head down, he was out instantly.

Had things been simpler, he would have felt more righteous indignation. No one would tell him where Luo Binghe was, and Shen Yuan suspected his brother had a hand in separating them. Their unsubtle, terse whispers revealed they intended to bring him back to Cang Qiong Mountain.

However, he wasn’t used to raising his voice. Whenever he spoke at home, his brother and his disciple both yielded the conversation to him. Between that fact and his whirling thoughts, the idea of voicing his opinion felt exhausting.

Shen Yuan observed the dream realm around him.

Occasionally, he would see this semi-distinct atmosphere. It wasn’t always the same, ever-shifting and evolving. This time, the landscape was a bamboo forest, but the bamboo was as large around as a skyscraper and shot high into the sky. If he paid careful attention, he could make out the impression of pavement roads in the mossy green earth, lined by a facsimile of sidewalks.

‘The only way this relic could be helpful was if he wanted to reassemble the broken fragments of your soul by force.’

It was peaceful here, and for a while he simply sat and watched the scenery. Occasionally, he would see what seemed like animals. A cat, a dog, a flock of birds…

No people. Never people. It was an empty city, and the only cries were those of nature. It had been over five years since he’d transmigrated, but he could recall who he was then with a lot of clarity. Mostly because there wasn’t much to recall. Back then, he hadn’t lived in a bustling world fill with people, so why would his dreamscape contain any?

Had he changed now? Was he different?

When Luo Binghe approached, he was already expecting it. They had been close to one another for a while, and so he had a handful of experiences being drawn into his disciple’s dreams. This would have been the first time Luo Binghe entered one of his, however.

“Shizun?” The young man asked, as if seeking permission to disturb him.

“Sit down,” Shen Yuan invited.

His disciple did so, taking up the place beside him. Their legs nearly touched because of the proximity. Even now, he was so very sticky.

“I am afraid this master can’t offer you any tea,” he teased, looking at the half-demon at his side.

Luo Binghe’s smile was gentle. “This disciple regretfully cannot pour any for Shizun.”

Dreams were uncontrollable, unstable things. However, Shen Yuan laughed. “With Binghe’s ability, summoning tea is a simple matter. Use the world however you wish.”

His disciple made a soft noise of assent and a small table appeared before them, laden with steaming tea and delicate foods. Luo Binghe then poured him tea. The liquid was a soft purple, and the glass teapot contained a large flower. Shen Yuan took his cup and looked at it curiously.

“This disciple experienced this tea once, and thought Shizun would enjoy it,” Luo Binghe said. “The tea master would not relinquish the make or recipe.”

Shen Yuan felt a burst of fond mirth as he gave his disciple a wry look. “And yet you still managed to steal it away in this form. That poor master.”

Luo Binghe looked shamelessly proud of himself.

The cup in his hands was realistically warm, and Shen Yuan took a gentle sip. He came away surprised. “It’s sweet.”

His disciple looked all the prouder.

“It would not be outside the realm of possibility to recreate the formula,” Shen Yuan thought aloud. And then he took another sip. It really was to his liking. No wonder Luo Binghe was quick to serve it to him at the first opportunity.

He went silent, considering his own thoughts.

And then he said, “Binghe, what do you know regarding fractured souls?”

There were many things he had learned about this world through reading Proud Immortal Demon Way, but there were infinitely more things that the book had never gone into detail over. Souls had been shattered aplenty, but the text never explained fully what that meant.

Luo Binghe put some thought into his answer before replying, “A soul that is sufficiently destroyed will be unable to experience rebirth.”

“Are there circumstances wherein an incomplete soul can be reborn?”

“If the damage is not too extensive, the soul will gravitate towards its other pieces after some time has passed,” Luo Binghe explained. “It may be weaker, but such a soul can then reincarnate.”

“I believe this master’s soul was halved in the past,” Shen Yuan confessed. “And it is my brother who repaired it.”

Luo Binghe jolted so violently, the cup in his hands flung out of his fingers. It spilled onto a patch of grass and rolled some distance away.

His disciple didn’t appear to notice this. He was leaning in very close now, his expression wrought with fury and concern. “Who? Why?”

A panicked beat.

“When?”

Shen Yuan shook his head and patted Luo Binghe’s shoulder. “It was long in the past. There is no need to fret.”

The young man’s stricken expression didn’t wane, but he sat back again, pensive.

“If a person continues to live on without part of their soul, how well do they fare?” He asked.

Luo Binghe’s mouth opened and closed a few times. Then, quietly, he said, “Not well. The soul and body should exist in equal parts. Removing part of the soul decreases one’s ability to use part of the body. It is usually a death sentence.”

Shen Yuan nodded. And his disciple, for all his boundless curiosity, said nothing. Whatever questions he had, maybe he didn’t want his shizun to answer them this time. Or perhaps he already knew what the answers would be.

However, Shen Yuan wasn’t done. If not with this person, who else could he share these things?

“This master… does not recall anything about his life from before his soul was put back together,” he said slowly, waiting for any kind of alert or alarm from the System. It had once warned him about what he should and should not say in the past, but it was blissfully unresponsive, and so he continued. “Rather, the memories inside me are from the other half, which lived in another place entirely. It differed from the things you know, Binghe.”

The person beside him was watching with eyes so bright they were dazzling. “Was that part of Shizun a god?”

Shen Yuan startled, not expecting such a conclusion. “Binghe, that—,”

“Shizun always has an air as if he sees beyond the world around him,” Luo Binghe explained. “As Shizun is such an incredible person, this disciple wonders if the other half of him lived as a god.”

It dawned on Shen Yuan that disagreeing with this assessment would mean he might have to explain that other world in more detail than he was comfortable with. There were certain lines one should never cross. This novel was its own living, breathing world. Defiling that in any way seemed like a tragedy. Yet, he also disliked the idea of lying outright.

So, eventually, he settled on, “This master was merely a being who cared a great deal about the fates of those he had never met.”

Luo Binghe’s hands grasped his shoulders and turned him around, expression swimming with a variety of emotions. “Shizun, I—,”

He hung there, then a look of frustration crossed his face as he shook his head.

Shen Yuan waited patiently, a little amused.

“In the morning,” Luo Binghe told him, like it was a promise. “I will come for you then. We will talk. This disciple… has some things to say to shizun. He will say them then.”

“Alright,” Shen Yuan agreed, giving the youth’s head a fond pat.

He wasn’t entirely sure what the delay was for, but he figured it had to do with Luo Binghe receiving the unpleasant shock that his master had nearly died once. The little demon always preferred to cry messily on his shoulder, and how could he shed those very real tears in a dream?

As his dream world faded away, and he returned to the peaceful unawareness of sleep, Shen Yuan felt a little bad.

He really shouldn’t have exposed all of his deepest psychological musings to someone so young.

Yet he was unable to voice to anyone the true core of his new, complicated feelings.

If this was really the story of his character…

Wasn’t he just as alive as everyone else? Wasn’t he just as much a human being as they were? If the Shen Yuan of the book and the Shen Yuan of before were one entity that originally belonged to this place, were any of them merely just characters instead of people?

When Shen Yuan woke at dawn, he requested the System repeat what exactly his mission was.

It told him:

[One, change the nonsensical plot and raise the average IQ of the villains and supporting characters. Two, avoid landmines that break suspension of disbelief. Three, ensure the main character’s satisfaction points. Four, discover and finish hidden plot events.]

And if he failed?

[You will automatically be deported back to your original world.]

Was that really a threat?

Or was that actually a warning that the rejoining of his soul wasn’t as stable as it might appear?

Chapter Text

As expected, Luo Binghe arrived mid morning.

Shen Yuan had known he was coming, but the other peak lords didn’t. Despite this, they reacted to his presence first. Liu Qingge practically flung himself out of his chair and dashed out, pursued by an irate Shen Qingqiu.

Exiting as well, Yue Qingyuan told him, “You should stay inside while we handle this.”

Shen Yuan did not heed this instruction, and followed out after him. After all, he had explicitly told them Luo Binghe didn’t kidnap him. How much more forthright could he be?

Shang Qinghua and Mu Qingfang exited the small building on his heels, apparently not about to miss the show.

A short distance away, standing on top of a small green hill, stood Luo Binghe. His chosen appearance was one Shen Yuan had never seen before, although he recognized it from the original novel—blazing red forehead mark, dark red and black robes, and an arrogant posture. He gave off the perfect image of a fierce, elegant demon lord, and was surveying the group with open annoyance, like he was above all the fuss.

His eyes softened as they found Shen Yuan, though. What a little sheep…

Luo Binghe looked like someone’s lost rooster, eager to crow and boast and cause a scene.

“If you think you’re making off with my brother, demon, you will suffer a rude surprise,” Shen Qingqiu barked at him, drawing Xiu Ya.

Liu Qingge stood near to him, sizing Luo Binghe up but making no move to draw his blade.

“The only insult present is yours, Shen-shibo.” Luo Binghe told him curtly. “What great master makes it habit to detain another for no particular reason?”

“Ingrate!” Shen Qingqiu snapped. “You slanderous dog! You should have stayed your hand. Shen Yuan belongs on Qing Jing Peak!”

“Does he?” Luo Binghe sneered. “Then why did he choose to leave? Relinquish Shizun and let us be on our way.”

Shen Qingqiu didn’t bother to respond to this, instead lunging sword first for the figure on the hill. Luo Binghe unsheathed Zheng Yang and blocked the swing. The sound of metal crashing against metal filled the air as the two began to spar. The fleet footed, rapid striking of cultivators made the farmland sing.

Yet, although his twin radiated killing intent, the entire thing came across as mostly harmless. Luo Binghe gave no ground, but he also took no ground. It was as if Shen Qingqiu was fighting the breeze. The half-demon deflected his moves with ease, dancing around them and countering them in equal measure. It was beyond obvious that Luo Binghe far surpassed his opponent, and so the half-demon was more invested in trading curses than he was blows.

“Sniveling, shameless whelp!”

“Can it be helped if Shizun’s looks bring one to tears?”

“You’re dead!”

“If Shizun will hold me during my last breaths, I’ll gladly die!”

Liu Qingge watched for a while, shook his head, and then approached the rest of the group. He gave Shen Yuan a tired glance. “You should collect your things. It seems you won’t be staying here long.”

“I already have them,” Shen Yuan assured him, surprised that the Bai Zhan Peak Lord would decline to join the fight. “You’re not going to help my brother?”

“There are some battles that one cannot win by the sword,” was all he said, before moving to lean against the wall of the little house.

“Wise words,” Shang Qinghua agreed.

The An Ding Peak Lord turned to Shen Yuan, grinning brightly.

“So, how does it feel?”

“How does what feel?” Shen Yuan said, perplexed.

Shang Qinghua motioned to the entire show going on before them. “You know, this epic battle? Your brother versus the man of your dreams?”

“…” Shen Yuan frowned.

The man beside him picked up on his confusion and arched a brow. “Luo Binghe? All blazing fire and war robes? The demon yelling on and on about how much he loves you at this very moment?”

Shen Yuan’s brow furrowed. What? Were they even watching the same fight?

“Luo Binghe,” he informed the An Ding Peak Lord, “is merely sticky. This is… normal.”

Well, most of it was normal. The full demon attire and the raging ego were a bit much, but he had seen the Luo Binghe of the novel and could safely say that this was nothing compared to the true blackened protagonist.

“You should maybe listen to what he’s saying,” Shang Qinghua told him, pointing at the two men embroiled in combat.

Shen Yuan turned his attention to their words.

“I will not let you have my brother so easily!”

“If Shizun chooses this disciple, then it is no matter of yours!”

“And what choice is it to run off with a demon? You doom him to misery!”

“So long as blood runs in these veins, Shizun will never be unhappy in my care!”

“You think you can promise him the world, demon dog?”

“If Shizun desires it, he can have all that exists in this land!”

Shang Qinghua nudged him with his elbow, shooting him furtive glances that read: ‘See? See?’

Shen Yuan, meanwhile, felt his face go white.

“You would lie with the one who practically raised you? Unfilial!”

“This one has much gratitude to Shizun, but Shizun is Shizun! Not a parent!”

“And how long have you harbored such desire, demon?”

“From the very moment I first gazed upon Shizun’s face!”

Shen Yuan went green.

The idea of someone having particular feelings for him didn’t bother him, even if it was Luo Binghe. It was just… these words were being shouted aloud, boldly. And a cluster of farmers had gathered nearby to watch the drama. They were murmuring to each other in wonder, having never seen such a spectacle before.

“I don’t… understand,” Shen Yuan said, attempting to digest the situation. “I’m a man. Shouldn’t Binghe…”

“What’s wrong with being a man?” Shang Qinghua asked him.

Right. In Proud Immortal Demon Way, the text had never cited homosexuality as a taboo. Luo Binghe’s harem was entirely female, and one could assume that maybe the author condemned alternative relationships as much as one might expect. However, without it ever being explicitly stated, that left room for the System to fill in its own interpretation. If the original work did not officially criticize cut-sleeves, then no one in this world would denounce them. It was that simple.

“N- Nevermind,” Shen Yuan stammered, deciding that the best way to deal with his slip up was to ignore it.

Moreover, it was unlikely Luo Binghe felt that way about him. He would have noticed if that was the case, wouldn’t he? After all, he had spent the last five years with him nearly always by his side.

This was likely a huge misunderstanding. Maybe Luo Binghe was simply attempting to out-brother his own brother. That made a lot more sense. He had stated that his shizun was no parent, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be an older sibling!

“I will approve of no such relationship!”

“Luckily, this disciple requires no approval from anyone other than Shizun!”

“Alright, alright, that’s enough!” Shen Yuan said, speaking loud enough that the two sword fighting men stopped mid battle. His twin was breathing hard, and his desperation to match his opponent made him appear wild. Luo Binghe looked far less affected, but there was a bit of dirt on his face and clothing. Stepping between them felt like parting two unruly schoolyard children.

“A-Yuan,” his brother said, tense, his teeth gritted.

“This master fails to understand what is being fought over,” he said, looking at Luo Binghe. Then back to his brother, “Jiu-ge, I will be resuming my travels with Binghe now.”

“You… You can’t,” Shen Qingqiu protested, but he put away his sword all the same. It seemed he wasn’t going to risk brandishing it in front of his brother.

“Jiu-ge…” Shen Yuan said. He smiled sadly. “I know what the mirror is.”

As expected, Shen Qingqiu froze up.

“When you used it… The ritual you performed… It didn't harm you in any way, did it?”

“No,” his twin answered quickly, aggrieved. “I just needed to locate the device. The rest was simple. I barely did much at all.”

But he hadn’t finished talking.

“It wasn’t difficult,” he said. “And yet this brother took so long to find it…”

Shen Yuan put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Thank you.”

The other peak lord didn’t look up, nor did he say anything. It was unlikely he had expected such an emotional blow. His expression was dark, but Shen Yuan had a feeling that was because he was keeping himself together by mere threads.

“I want to talk about it more,” he told him. “After traveling a bit.”

Shen Qingqiu raised his head and gave him a long look. Then he glared at Luo Binghe for a time before finally returning his gaze to his twin. “… I cannot stop you.”

That was as close to a blessing as Shen Yuan was going to get.

As he dropped his hand, Shen Qingqiu scoffed and turned away. He stormed back into the rural little house. Yue Qingyuan followed him.

The remaining peak lords looked lost now that the action had abruptly ended, but Shen Yuan paid them no mind. After all, he had already shown his gratitude to Liu Qingge and Mu Qingfang. And Shang Qinghua was something of a stranger. It was no issue leaving.

“Let’s go, Binghe,” Shen Yuan told his disciple, taking his elbow and leading him away.

His disciple beamed, like he’d just learned that his shizun had decorated the sky with the sun and the clouds.

***

When Luo Binghe suggested traveling by sword to put some distance between them and the other peak lords, Shen Yuan agreed. And when his disciple motioned for Shen Yuan to walk into his arms so he could carry him on his sword, he also agreed. After all, Without A Cure was unpredictable. How would he face Shen Qingqiu if he met his death through such means?

However, he had somewhat expected it to be a nice, platonic sword ride. Instead, he found himself cradled between two strong arms and had to wonder to himself, ‘When did my little sheep become taller than me?’

His mind yelled, over and over, that he shouldn’t take what had just happened as meaningful. Luo Binghe’s demonic blood had gotten the better of him, was all. Those dedicated, devout phrases were merely tossed around without care, all to disturb his brother’s spirit.

That wasn’t true, though.

Shen Yuan knew some of those lines. The original Luo Binghe had said a few of them about various women while fighting for their safety or freedom…

What did that mean?

Eventually, they landed. Luo Binghe had headed west again, but they had long passed Kuihua City by. Thinking on this matter, he turned to his disciple once their feet were firmly on the ground and there was a decent gap between their bodies.

“Binghe, did you happen to collect our things?”

The half-demon smile and patted the qiankun bag hanging from his waist. A look of enlightenment then crossed his features before he stuck his hand into it and diligently fished something out. As if prostrating himself, he offered Shen Yuan his fan with both hands.

“Oh. Thank you,” Shen Yuan accepted, smiling despite himself. He snapped the fan open and gave it a few experimental flaps. Somehow he’d accumulated a wealth of nervous habits and he channeled all that emotion through this little fan. It made him feel foolish, even if hiding behind it eased his sense of overwhelming vulnerability.

When had this started? He wasn’t sure this body he inhabited had used a fan before the transmigration. Yet after he went out as Shen Qingqiu that very first time, it had slowly woven itself into him as a part of his being…

Maybe this body had always wanted to use one, but never could. If the Shen Yuan of this world was like the Shen Yuan of the other one—was like him—then perhaps he was too weak to manipulate such dexterous motions. And who would he use the fan in front of? Both versions of ‘Shen Yuan’ never went too far from home.

Luo Binghe watched him, seeming to just soak up his shizun like he was a flower. Eventually, he broke the silence as they walked on the stone-laid path they had landed on. “What was Shizun a god of? Fate?”

Shen Yuan blinked at the subject of conversation, then internally slapped himself for daring to be surprised. Of course his disciple would latch onto something so wondrously ridiculous. “This master thought he explained he was never quite such a being.”

“What was Shizun’s life like?” Luo Binghe continued, apparently ignoring his correction.

Well, at least he could answer this question. “Lonely.”

The word had risen to his lips before he could think it through, and Luo Binghe stopped walking abruptly in order to turn around and look at him. It struck Shen Yuan how utterly beautiful the young man was with the sun lighting up his face, all radiant skin and silken hair, and he fought down an urge to blush.

How inappropriate was that? What was wrong with him?

Luo Binghe appeared as though he might reach out and embrace him tenderly, like Shen Yuan was a lost maiden. And so Shen Yuan cleared his throat roughly and side-stepped him so that he was in lead and wouldn’t have to keep looking at that handsome face. He kept walking, and his disciple followed.

“It is in the past,” he dismissed, his face too thin to expand on that wretched moment of weakness.

“Shizun…” Luo Binghe said, a creeping sort of sympathy laced into the word.

Before Shen Yuan could scold him for being too soft, the half-demon caught him from behind and suddenly subjected him to the embrace he had woefully attempted to avoid. Heat crawled up his face, because this was the exact scenario he would have expected a harem member to be subject to.

So why was it him?

“This disciple… was lonely for a very long time,” Luo Binghe said into his hair, and the arms around Shen Yuan tightened. “However, he has not felt as such ever since coming to live with Shizun.”

Shen Yuan’s throat went horribly tight at those words. He felt the same way, he realized. What did that mean? Why did he have those same feelings? Why did it feel as though…

Why did it feel as though sending Luo Binghe away was some form of condemnation? And Shen Yuan had rejected it with the entirety of his being?

Luo Binghe was being controlled by the plot.

He was mistaking his sense of belonging for… some deeper emotion.

He was slotting Shen Yuan in as parent, family, friend and…

It shouldn’t be like this. Twittering, beautiful women should have surrounded him. He should have presided as lord over the three realms. He should have—

But, that Luo Binghe had never really been happy, had he? Burning, killing, torture…

Someone who did all that wasn’t happy.

Shen Yuan should have pushed Luo Binghe away. He didn’t have these feelings. He could not reciprocate whatever it was his disciple wanted from him.

Instead, however, all that came from his lips was, “This master is the same…”

Luo Binghe’s hold on him tightened, and Shen Yuan knew there wasn’t any coming back from what he had just done.

***

Luo Binghe asked for an inn room with one bed and Shen Yuan could muster no protest. He recalled how, at the other inn, the matter of one room one bed had been coincidental. Now, it wasn’t. That meant his disciple had decided that things had changed, and Shen Yuan had a sinking feeling he knew what that was.

It was a full-body shock. He was young! Somewhat! He just learned about all of this! He wasn’t ready to have this kind of relationship! Or sleep with a man!

‘System,’ Shen Yuan thought desperately, pleading for the barely used transmigration device to come to his aid. ‘What is my reputation with Luo Binghe?’

[Reputation: Shen Yuan [110].]

He stared at this for a long time.

‘System… what do the reputation points mean again?’

[Reputation is the measurement of how high the protagonist’s regard is for other characters. It ranges from -100 to 100.]

‘Right, so then how can my reputation be above 100?’

[The protagonist’s regard has exceeded the maximum threshold and surpassed the limitation.]

Shen Yuan looked at Luo Binghe, who was bustling about their single inn room like a fussy attendant, checking surfaces for dust and reassuring himself that the bedding was clean. The sight caused him to sigh in his heart. He felt resigned.

“Binghe, could you bring this master some tea?” He said. “I am going to sit for a little while and require some silence.”

His disciple perked up eagerly at being called upon and gave him a brilliant smile. “Yes, Shizun.”

He left the inn room and returned a short while later with a tray. Saying nothing, he wordlessly poured Shen Yuan tea and then busied himself with the rest of the room, allowing the man the quiet he requested.

With a warm cup in hand, Shen Yuan gave the System a speculative look. It was time to dig into all the things he had been avoiding for so very long.

‘Please define exactly what the reputation numbers mean,’ he told it. ‘What exact emotions are associated with what scores?’

[The reputation system is a scale between—]

He cut it off, already aware of what it was about to say. ‘No. Instead, define for me what a reputation of 100 means.’

[A reputation of 100 is indicative of emotion of such intensity as to be bound by the soul. This score can unlock a variety of useful traits, including Meet Again in Another Life and One Dies, Both Die.]

Shen Yuan glared. What the fuck were they? A pair of eight-eyed swancock? And how was a bullshit trope like mutual death a useful trait? Death from grief was one of the most annoying, unsatisfying ends for a love interest. It was as if the plot decided that without their other half, they had no relevance anymore. Therefore, get rid of them.

Whatever. At least he was getting the answers he was looking for.

‘So how is it that my reputation is over 100? What does that mean?’

[The protagonist’s feelings deepened further after learning user was a god. An exception was made to accommodate the additional reputation gain.]

‘But I’m not a god?’ Shen Yuan said, already aware his protests would do nothing.

[User has completed the quest line Shizun Knows Too Much and met the backstory requirements to unlock the trait One Beyond This World. For canonical consistency, this resolution has been filed under the Godlike trait.]

Godlike wasn’t much better than being accused of being an actual god, but there wasn’t a proper way to argue against the situation. Again, certain lines could not be crossed. There was no good way for Shen Yuan to reveal the true nature of his origin, so it made sense if reality needed to be massaged to fit a certain mold. A half-truth was superior to a full lie.

If he really was a person from Proud Immortal Demon Way who had his soul sliced in two, and one of those halves read the book he originated from, it was a chicken and egg situation. The thought alone gave him an existential crisis. If he so much as breathed a word of it to anyone, they would never believe him.

‘So Luo Binghe is in love with me, then.’ Shen Yuan thought solemnly to his tea.

[Yes.] the System answered, and if there was a sliver of exasperation in that robotic voice, it didn’t surprise him.

His reputation with Luo Binghe had been at 100 for years now. Shen Yuan desperately tried not to think back on his every memory in order to over analyze all the details he had been missing at the time. His heart couldn’t take it right now.

‘Am I really… from this world? Am I really this world’s Shen Yuan? Have I always been him?’

[Yes.] the System said. It didn’t specify a question, so it was a yes to all of them.

‘And I’m the Shen Yuan from my original world, too?’

[Yes.]

‘Why did this happen?’ He asked it. ‘What don’t I remember?’

[Completion of relevant storyline has not concluded.]

‘Of course,’ Shen Yuan thought ruefully. It wasn’t going to give him answers to anything he didn’t already know.

That night, he retired to bed and, after considering it, invited Luo Binghe to share the space with him. There was plenty of room, and neither of their bodies touched. Naturally, this didn’t result in much rest, and Shen Yuan only dozed off after lying unmoving on his side of the bed for several hours.

He just couldn’t stand to see his disciple spend another night on the bare floor. Not after all he had learned.

It wasn’t until breakfast that he remembered that, at their cultivation level, neither of them actually needed to sleep.

Chapter Text

Luo Binghe intended to confess his feelings.

This was no small matter.

He had been aware of his own emotions for long enough that he suffered no small amount of trepidation. After all, even if Shizun recognized his desire by this point, it was still an event that only happened once. Mobei-Jun had been a decent source of advice for such considerations over the years, relaying to him all manner of wisdom after consulting his human husband, always careful to keep Luo Binghe’s name out of the conversation. He didn’t fully understand their relationship, but it worked and they appeared happy. Naturally, he wanted that for himself as well.

The three things that had been emphasized the most were the following:

First, sex with a male partner could harm them, so seek council with the succubi. Luo Binghe had done so, forgoing their hands-on teaching methods for lectures and written guides. He had a firm understanding of the topic now, for when that time finally came.

Second, openly communicating one’s thoughts and emotions was paramount to a successful relationship. As a demon, he needed to be extra sure to relay to his partner whatever stirred his heart, no matter how trivial. As well, tears should never be suppressed, regardless of who shed them.

Third, revealing one’s feelings was an important event that could not be done trivially. Humans normally lived short lives, and immortals had the same sensibilities, despite having thrown off such shackles. Therefore, the memory needed to be one they could hold close for the rest of their lives.

So many times already Luo Binghe had almost gone against that third lesson, eager to grasp Shizun’s hands and tell him of the things lurking inside his chest. He reined himself in at the last second, however, knowing that he needed to treat those words as if they themselves were a grand wedding ceremony. Everything should be perfect, not a thing out of place.

As much as it pleased him that Shizun had rejected the many peak lords of Cang Qiong Mountain, whether their affection be familial or lustful, he still could not rush this summit of their courtship. Even if his fair companion invited him into his bed and sent him numerous, subtle glances of appreciation…

Even if those things stoked the fires of Luo Binghe’s love heaven-high…!

It was a conversation that would only happen once.

A restless rush of breath wouldn’t be enough to convey how much Shizun meant to him. And so he forced himself to maintain patience.

They had returned to trekking across the landscape on foot, however, this time it was Luo Binghe who chose the direction they walked. With the events that had just occurred, it would be preferable if he had an easy way to track Shizun’s location. He could coax the man into ingesting his blood, but that was a little too intimate, and he couldn’t be certain Shizun would agree to it. Being unconditionally accepted for being a half-demon was already a blessing he wasn’t eager to challenge.

Luo Binghe continued wearing his more formidable robes. Meanwhile, Shizun had changed Shen Qingqiu’s borrowed attire for his better traveling wear—material soft and downy as to not itch even with the accumulation of sweat. Luo Binghe had insisted on purchasing it for him after the incident with the wine, and as the man moved gracefully under white and grey cloth, hat stowed away at the moment, fan in hand…

He was nothing short of ethereal.

“Does Shizun miss anything from that other place, when part of him was a god?” Luo Binghe asked conversationally, breaking the silence.

As he expected, Shizun’s lips left their flat idleness, curling into a look of pure exasperation. The man tossed him an expression that said, ‘This again?’

Luo Binghe was curious about the answer, but more than that, he simply liked to ask these kinds of questions, if only to witness that strange face it provoked. It was something between relief and reluctance, as though the subject was a secret and his shizun was glad it was being spoken aloud, yet was uncertain what to say. It was closely related to a similar expression that he had whenever he knew the answer to something, but had to consider how to phrase it.

Prodding at the topic of godhood made Luo Binghe feel as if he was tugging on the strings of some greater mystery. Even if he never beheld the true image of it, the act made him feel closer to Shizun. After all, it appeared no one knew this detail about him, and so each answer was a sweet slice of depth no other person could grasp. Luo Binghe wanted to collect every drop of nectar, and cradle the result close to his own soul, so that the ghostly figments of that long-ago past would never disperse.

After a while, the response he received was a hum and then the words, “This master misses the food most of all.”

It was difficult to suppress his smile, so Luo Binghe didn’t try. “Shizun has always enjoyed his meals. This disciple isn’t surprised.”

“Well, I enjoy the meals Binghe makes, anyway,” Shizun said. He tapped his closed fan against his lips as he thought. “The food the other peak lords served was… interesting.”

“Was it worse than the food at the inns?” Luo Binghe asked, already standing tall at the praise of his skills in the kitchen.

“Better than that, at least, but still rudimentary.”

Luo Binghe stepped a little closer to Shizun, warmed all over at the compliment. He had heard gossip once wherein two young women argued over fruit and meat, saying coy things about their husbands such as, ‘The way to his heart is through his stomach.’

Initially, Luo Binghe’s mind had heard the phrase, and he’d blanched, thinking she intended to slice the person open. It was only as they started discussing spice at length that he realized she meant that food was a point of charm, and one could win the hearts of others through a served meal.

That was one of his first trips away from Qing Jing Peak by himself. When he returned, he had been quivering with the anticipation of trying the idea out, and spent many long days refining new and interesting recipes. Shizun had always enjoyed what he made before, but the surprised delight at novel and exotic meals caused the man to gush about him to whoever would listen.

If anyone’s heart and stomach had such a firm connection, Shizun was one such person.

After clenching and unclenching his hand half a dozen times, Luo Binghe finally reached out and put his arm around Shizun’s shoulder. This brought the man firmer by his side, and the half-demon kept his gaze straight ahead, the beat behind his ribs thundering with nerves.

This was okay, wasn’t it? He could steal this much, couldn’t he? After what he had just said in front of all of Shizun’s martial brothers…

The shorter man was stiff, but he did not move away.

Luo Binghe’s affection overflowed, and he did all he could not to trip over his own two feet as they walked.

***

The mountain pass was snowy.

Luo Binghe only had the best impression of his shizun, but even he believed that this was when the immortal master would finally cut loose a wellspring of complaint. He had the half-demon’s thick outer coat wrapped around him, and his legs caught every few strides through the calf-high drifts. Even with a warming talisman, there was a quiet misery about him.

And yet, when Luo Binghe looked at him, his thoughts hitched. Shizun’s eyes were bright with wonder.

He was cold, shivering only a little, and somehow a childlike awe made his gaze sparkle above pink dusted cheeks.

Luo Binghe’s emotions choked, broiling over into something ferocious and hot. He wanted to grab the man and tumble into the snowbank with him. But, no, he needed to resist the urge. There were here for a specific reason, and keeping shizun out in this weather any longer than necessary would be unwise.

The Great Dragon Peaks spiraled around them, a twisting mountain range that curved and wound like a serpent. They were currently on one of the outer mountains, and the sky was clear and bright. The conditions were optimal for their journey.

When he first mentioned the location, Shizun’s eyebrows had perked with immediate recognition. It took no cajoling to convince him to take on the journey, which informed Luo Binghe that this place must be familiar to him. However, again, Shizun acted as if this was his first time seeing the area.

Knowledge borne from something other than experience, yet not so accessible as to be within the pages of a book.

“How much further do you intend to go?” Shizun asked him, curious. “Is there anything you need this master’s help with, Binghe?”

The half-demon shook his head. “The destination is a short distance from here. This disciple appreciates Shizun’s patience.”

He received a wry look for that, before the peak lord huffed with amusement. Luo Binghe suspected that if he told him what he intended, the smaller man would immediately take the lead in order to guide him. For now, he continued on, aiming to surprise him.

Eventually, they reached a crevice between two stone cliff walls. Luo Binghe gestured for Shizun to follow him and began making his way through. It took some uncomfortable shuffling, but he soon met warmth, and as he made it to the other side, he was immersed in fragrant, steamy air.

Shizun stepped up behind him, took in the view of the sprawling natural hot springs, and laughed.

It was a beautiful, rare sound, and Luo Binghe’s heart skipped a beat. He had never heard him laugh so loudly before—it was as if, when just them, he had relaxed into this open and carefree state.

“The Dragon Eye Ponds, Binghe?” Shizun said, coming to stand next to him. He nudged him in the side. “Have you been here before?”

Luo Binghe shook his head. “This one only learned of it in passing.”

That was a true enough answer. Madam Meiyin had told him of many fantastic locations for wooing a partner, and this one just so coincided with the target of his mission. Why Shizun knew of it, however, was the bigger question. It was a heavily guarded secret of the succubi, and only a couple of small demon clans were aware of its existence in the human realm. However, he did not wish for the man to know his thoughts on the matter, lest he hide the expansiveness of his intelligence and wisdom.

“Are you intending to bathe?” Shizun asked, stretching and clearly enjoying the exposure to natural warmth.

“After I find what I am looking for,” Luo Binghe answered. And then he added, “This disciple would be honored to share a bath with Shizun.”

He earned a raised brow for that, but the other man shook his head and let it go. Luo Binghe took in how the tips of his ears blushed and tried to calm himself. Just because Shizun knew his feelings, he couldn’t be too hasty.

“What is Binghe looking for, then?” The peak lord asked.

Shizun had a gleam in his eye, as if he was waiting for a specific answer—as if he knew. So Luo Binghe only said, “It is a surprise.”

That light transformed into something else, and then Shizun quickly tucked it away. “Ah. Alright.”

Luo Binghe wrenched his gaze away, patting down the urge to memorize all those curious little quirks. He could have spent a full lifetime simply etching a single feature into his mind, gently unwinding what every nuance meant. Shizun was beautiful, but the small amount of emotion he displayed was beyond the confines of description.

He began walking around the edge of the area, turning his attention to the task at hand. There was lush greenery clinging to where the cliffs met the stone ground, nourished by the moisture in the air and the openness of the sky overhead. The spiritual qi was dense, and so a couple of sparse trees grew in ways that pleased the eye.

It took some time, but soon enough Luo Binghe caught the rustle of a dense cluster of grass. He put a hand out to stop Shizun’s movements, and the two of them went silent as they watched for any further signs of life.

“Shizun,” Luo Binghe said, putting a hand on the man’s back and urging him forward. “Why don’t you go take a look?”

He received a difficult to decipher glance for that instruction, but there was no argument. His shizun stepped forward and then, after appearing to think about it, sat carefully on the ground. There was no way he did not understand what was in that grass, and Luo Binghe felt a blooming sort of pride. Who else could claim to be in love with someone so effortlessly impressive?

An incense stick’s time passed, but the two men showed a great deal of patience. Finally, as if they had passed some sort of test, a fluffy head peaked out from the grass.

It was no mere natural creature. Its body was about the size of a large apple, and it looked as if someone had carved it out of white jade. The fur was silky, but the eyes were blank like those of a statue.

This small fox was a relative of the dew fox—the much rarer, much more mystical jade fox.

Shizun held out his hand, but made no other motion.

Skittish, the fox hesitated. Then, one paw at a time, it crept forward until it was sniffing Shizun’s pale fingers.

Abruptly, it bit the man.

Luo Binghe jumped, surprised and alarmed, but Shizun didn’t even flinch. It was as if he had expected this.

He turned a mischievous smile on Luo Binghe, as if punishing him for his secrecy by being mirthful. “Did you not know? The jade fox is a demonic entity that feeds on spiritual energy and blood.”

The little creature was suckling Shizun’s finger like a pup on its mother’s belly and Luo Binghe suddenly found it much less cute. “This disciple did not…”

“It is harmless, so all is well,” Shizun excused, even as the leech gobbled up his energy like a glutton. “I have always wanted to see one of these. They’re much more adorable than I ever could have imagined. Was this Binghe’s intention? To show this master something interesting?”

Luo Binghe made a noise of assent. “I thought, should Shizun have one of his own, it would be easier to keep track of him…”

“Oh? Yes, they are quite useful for sending messages,” the peak lord agreed.

As the fox released the finger, looking fat and fed, Shizun scooped it up. Luo Binghe suddenly wished he would have lied, because the man put the creature on his shoulder and it curled up right against his slender neck, content. It was just as majestic of a sight as he had hoped it would be, and he was instantly jealous.

Being demonic itself, the fox could sense his irritation in the air. It gave him a slow, pupilless blink, yawned, and then snuggled up even further into Shizun’s collar, as if to show off its favorable position. To it, the man must have been a kind, walking banquet. Luo Binghe had known they were easy to charm into keeping, but now that he understood its demeanor, he endured endless agitation. It was just too prideful!

***

Although Luo Binghe had been the one to introduce the idea of bathing together, he could not go through with it. The moment Shizun disrobed, and he saw an elegant slice of his shoulder, he knew his ability to control himself was too limited. So, instead, he invited the subject of his affection to bathe while he prepared food. And he took the jade fox with him.

There was a nice platform away from all the steam, and that was where he set up camp. The stone was dry, and the air refreshing. As he started a fire and began to cook some fresh rations in a pot, Luo Binghe kept a diligent eye on the fox. It continually tried to sneak back to Shizun, and he didn’t want to risk it draining the man’s blood while he was bathing.

Shizun had said it was harmless, but who knew how much it would take from him? Only the person being fed off of could announce the fluids and qi lost, and he had his doubts that the peak lord would speak up if the demon was overly greedy.

Thankfully, its attempts at escape were pitiful. It would sit as still as stone, pretending that it wasn’t even alive. If one did not touch it, this display would utterly convince them. When he would turn his attention away, however briefly, it would move to another spot, as if having done nothing more than teleport. Not a strand of fur would give it away, creating the impression that someone had picked it up and set it down somewhere else.

This made it easy to grab. It wouldn’t even resist him.

They were at some sort of impasse. The fox wanted Shizun, Luo Binghe did not want it to have him, and so they spent dinner preparations in this way. It was extremely annoying.

A splash sound came from further into the hot springs, and the fox gave up its game in order to dart into the obscuring steam. Luo Binghe chased after it, his body filling with an uneasy dread at the clamor.

He reached Shizun second, but could not find himself frustrated by it as his attention turned to the peak lord. The man was wearing his thin inner robe, and he was half-sprawled in the water.

“Oh, sorry… Binghe,” Shizun said, allowing himself to be helped up. “I was getting out and carelessly fell.”

Instinct told Luo Binghe that the man’s flushed face, coupled with his long soak, must have made him dizzy. But the wrist under his hand was trembling and lax. He frowned and let a thread of his qi explore Shizun, causing the man to give him a stern look.

“Binghe…”

It was a scolding, but there was no intensity behind it… because there was no energy in Shizun. His veins were weak streams of qi, only barely there, and his unsteady stance revealed his physical fatigue.

“Shizun’s condition,” Luo Binghe said, throat tight. Without A Cure had reared its head, and he hadn’t been there. This wasn’t Qing Jing Peak. Shizun was vulnerable. And Luo Binghe hadn’t been there.

“This master is fine, he just needs to sit down,” was all the peak lord said. His voice was gentle and reassuring, but his fingers were limp like wilted flowers.

Luo Binghe scooped him up into his arms and carried him. Shizun protested, but it lacked spirit. He was too tired.

The fox trotted after them, obligingly quiet and out of the way.

It had reacted swiftly to Shizun’s distress.

Luo Binghe didn’t dislike it so much after all.

Chapter Text

This was, unabashedly, a wife plot.

After spending a day with the other peak lords only to be picked up by a furious Luo Binghe taxi service, they both traveled a great distance before spending the night at an inn. During all of this, he’d been too preoccupied with multiple revelations to give the direction of their journey much thought. If Luo Binghe wanted to arrange their itinerary, that was fine, because there was very little in this world that Shen Yuan disliked. Had this transmigrator been the singular peak lord, he would have easily promoted the protagonist to head disciple. The boy was emotional and often stubborn, but he was exceptionally responsible and pragmatic where it counted.

When they finally came to an arid land, his memory had caught up. He thought to himself, pleasantly, ‘Aren’t the Great Dragon Peaks not too far from here?’

Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky had apparently thought of the genius idea of a large, sprawling mountainscape nestled in the center of a very modest desert. Why? Variety, probably. All the proceeding arcs had featured beautiful forests, boundless greenery, and earthy caves. Seasons had ceased to exist, too. It was always balmy, always sunny, always the perfect temperature for stripping down to cool off in fresh waters.

The Great Dragon Peaks had been introduced during the height of winter, too. Maybe Airplane-brother had been experiencing a lot of cold himself, and so channeled that energy into his writing. It wouldn’t be the first time Shen Yuan had noticed suspicious inclusions in the text. Once an entire chapter had been dedicated to food, from top to bottom, and he left a scathing comment asking the man if he desperately needed something to eat.

Originally, Luo Binghe had trekked into the mountains with a lovely, modest woman of good pedigree, who was accompanying him for research purposes. They ended up getting caught in a blizzard, stumbling around, lost as maze arrays scrambled their senses and made it difficult to navigate. Eventually, Luo Binghe found the crevice between two cliff walls and pulled her in, hoping that beyond was a cave they could take shelter in. Instead, the pair was awestruck to see the unnatural structure of the hot springs hidden at the peak, the sky overhead a clear blue, as if the blizzard no longer even existed.

The legendary Dragon Eye Ponds.

It was said to be a place that goddesses once bathed, although how true that was, Shen Yuan couldn’t say. The springs were the perfect temperature and were filled to bursting with spiritual energy. It was impossible not to feel rejuvenated after a dip, which was convenient, because it reduced Luo Binghe’s already nonexistent refractory period in the original text. That lady researcher never stood a chance.

Eventually, she agreed to marry into Luo Binghe’s harem, after he helped her tame a jade fox and told her the little creature could send messages to and from her family. Her connection to her parents and siblings had been the woman’s last remaining thread of resistance. All was well that ended well.

And, of course, she was never mentioned again after that arc.

Classic hack author.

What was a blizzard, though, without a sick plot?

That was what really gave the game away. Shen Yuan was bundled up in some large furs Luo Binghe had packed in his qiankun bag, and he should have felt overly warm and itchy. Instead, his head was muggy, he was comfortable, and he really didn’t want to move at all. He hadn’t been sick since his pseudo-transmigration; immortals had strong immune systems. Even pouring all his qi into Luo Binghe for years, he was never laid all that low. The most he did was sleep excessively, but resting when you were exhausted felt nice, so that wasn’t much of an inconvenience.

This, though? His head pounded. His eyes burned. He felt like he wasn’t quite getting enough air. And pulling the fur over his head and curling into a ball was very appealing in getting the sensory attack to stop.

Jade foxes were parasitic and reflected the personality of whatever host they took on. It was unsurprising that the creature kept circling around him nervously. These demonic beings didn’t have an actual sense of self, so it was basically an extension of Shen Yuan. The demon’s behavior reminded him of how he fussed over Luo Binghe.

He reached a hand out, intending to pet its little fluffy head with his index finger. Before he could touch it, Luo Binghe was there. His disciple scooped it up.

“Hey,” Shen Yuan complained.

“Shizun shouldn’t be around this demon while he’s unwell,” Luo Binghe told him. The fox didn’t actively fight against the hold he had on it, but it was definitely sulking. “This one can’t risk it draining Shizun’s energy.”

“Binghe, it isn’t going to feed off of me when I’m like this,” he explained. “And it isn’t even hungry.”

“The risk is too great,” his disciple said. How unreasonable. And then he stalked off to sit by the fire.

The fox was pliant in his hands. Shen Yuan liked Luo Binghe, so of course the fox didn’t dislike him in the slightest. However, if his disciple held him like that, he would probably wear a similarly torn expression. Its overzealous affection for Shen Yuan himself was just a feature of the host-parasite relationship. A generalized simplification might be: it saw Shen Yuan as its mother.

And that kind of bond was always unique.

The jade fox was actually the treasure of this location. There was only the one here, and it had been gifted to that fated wife. There were likely more elsewhere, but they never revealed themselves in Proud Immortal Demon Way. Airplane recycled a lot, but re-using such a distinct plot tool would definitely be pushing it.

Of course, that didn’t stop him from making creatures who were functionally similar. However, there was plausible deniability as long as you adjusted the name and animal.

Shen Yuan had been given the jade fox.

So, Shen Yuan was a wife in a wife plot.

As straightforward as this was, it left him reeling. Then again, how could this really shock him when his reputation with the protagonist had exceeded the limit? 110 points! If only he could have broken the boundary of reality when he had taken exams! Instead, it only happened to him with a man’s affection. The world was indeed very cruel.

Luo Binghe was attractive. This much Shen Yuan had no issue admitting. After all, one did not amass such a horde of women without looking decent. The protagonist’s beauty was unparalleled, so it went without saying that Shen Yuan had never resisted acknowledging it.

Luo Binghe… liked him.

That part was new.

Shen Yuan wasn’t unaware of what that did to his heart. It beat so hard he thought he could die from it. The idea didn’t feel real. Him? Luo Binghe liked him? How? When?

Most importantly, why?

He may not have been a villain, but he was one’s brother! And Shen Qingqiu had still treated Luo Binghe cruelly before Shen Yuan intervened. Even now, they clearly had a terrible relationship, if the active resentment and clash of swords was any sign. Putting aside the idea that Shen Yuan was a man, shouldn’t a potential in-law like that have scared Luo Binghe off?

‘Well, no, actually,’ Shen Yuan thought ruefully. The original work made it very clear that there was no greater face-slap than spiriting away the precious daughter or sister of some contemptible person. Shen Qingqiu was getting off lightly, considering he was allowed to live through the event. Proud Immortal Demon Way featured a lot of happy endings with slain family members.

Airplane! Brother! Is there some trauma you would like to admit to? This humble Shen Yuan won’t judge! Air it all out! Who in your clan hurt you?

If his mind hadn’t felt so fogged up, it would have been easier to give this whole ordeal more thought. Perhaps he could have done more than simply drift off into sleep, time passing by without his realizing, over and over again, until he was too disoriented to know how long they had been on this mountain. Every time he roused, he attempted to assess the situation. After all, plotlines like these had a natural sort of progression, right? They weren’t trapped here, there was no blizzard, and food probably wasn’t a concern. Eventually, though, something would force them to move. It was only a matter of time.

That ‘something’ eventually came in the form of Luo Binghe gently shaking him awake. Shen Yuan opened his eyes slowly, dazed, and stared up at a handsome face. Worried dark eyes peered down at him, and he briefly lost himself in them.

“Pretty,” Shen Yuan commented automatically. He was mostly focused on Luo Binghe’s eyelashes, which were black, and kissed his skin with every blink.

The expression before him flashed with astonishment before those perfect eyebrows furrowed. “Shizun…”

Part of Shen Yuan realized how poor his compliment was. It was too childish and simplistic. So, he added, “Binghe has always been more lovely than any other being.”

That was slightly better. He felt like it was a line he had heard before.

A hand pressed to his forehead, cool and refreshing. Shen Yuan groaned and leaned into it, and unfortunately, it pulled away all too soon.

Luo Binghe made a soft hiss noise and murmured, “Shizun should see a healer.”

“This master is fine,” he assured him. The doubt on his disciple’s face caught his attention and he stared. After a moment, he reached out a hand and touched the half-demon’s cheek. His thoughts fell away as he was distracted by the smoothness of his skin, the pads of his fingers ghosting along before trailing down to the edge of the young man’s lips…

Had Luo Binghe kissed anyone yet in this world? It was a good question. His fingers continued along those soft peach lines, marveling. They were velvety lips—not chapped or rough at all.

Suddenly Shen Yuan’s wrist was caught, hand pulled away from his disciple’s face. Luo Binghe’s pale skin had gone red, and he laughed a little despite himself. “Don’t be embarrassed, Binghe. This one was just admiring.”

“…”

Luo Binghe exhaled a slow, patient breath.

“Shizun… should see a healer…”

“Yes, you said,” he agreed. Why was Luo Binghe repeating himself? Was he broken?

“This lowly disciple was foolish,” he said. “He failed to notice the arrays in the area. Climbing the mountain is easy, leaving is difficult.”

Shen Yuan nodded to himself. That sounded about right. The novel had made it seem like locating the hot springs was good fortune, but what if the storm and the spellwork had nudged them in that direction on purpose? He only knew about the ones that made people get lost, but what if someone wanted to come here? A person might never even notice, thinking they’d managed to find the way easily.

“Your Mobei-Jun is unavailable?” Shen Yuan asked, hoping to learn a bit more about this whole teleportation business.

“This one has attempted contact and received no answer. He thought to await Shizun’s recovery, but Shizun… isn’t.”

“Isn’t what?”

“Shizun… isn’t recovering.”

“Binghe, I’m just a little tired,” he said, moving to sit up. “Surely I’m not that—,”

He looked around, and his vision swam. Multiples of everything danced before his eyes, disorienting him to the point of nausea. Luo Binghe quickly pushed him back down, and Shen Yuan let him.

How utterly dramatic. He had never been this ill in his entire life.

“Nevermind,” he said, resigned. “This master is very sick, apparently.”

And it was the kind of ailment which sapped all one’s strength and left one unable to think properly. Not only was he useless should anything happen, if he wasn’t careful, he might start saying all manner of strange things.

Luo Binghe’s expression became unfathomably dark at the easy admittance, as if Shen Yuan agreeing with his assessment was cause for further concern. And, well, maybe it was. He would never usually give in this easily.

“Can Binghe fly with his sword?”

“Until we leave the mountain, it is too dangerous. The air overhead is unstable and turbulent.”

“Well,” Shen Yuan sighed, amused to the point of exasperation, “let’s get moving then. There’s no use staying here any longer.”

It was unlikely he’d get any better until they started going along with the flow of the plot.

***

Was anything ever really as easy as ‘let’s leave the mountain safely and peacefully’?

They exited the hot springs area, and for a while, it was tranquil enough. Yet, after enough time had passed, and they noticed they were getting no closer to the desert, a blizzard kicked up. It immediately obscured their vision, denying them the ability to even observe their lack of progress forward. The cold assault was brutal. Wind cut into them like chilled knives, and even inhaling made one’s body frost over internally.

“I’m taking Shizun back to the hot springs!” Luo Binghe announced to him, having to raise his voice. The half-demon was carrying him on his back, the jade fox tucked into the younger man’s robe. Shen Yuan was unable to do much more than nod against his shoulder, because his head was spinning and he could barely raise it without wanting to throw up.

So, when they fell, he was entirely unprepared.

One moment Luo Binghe was walking, trudging back up the mountain, his pace steady and even. The next, there was a jarring sense of weightlessness and the slam of landing hard. The fur around his shoulders had fallen off, and icy snow cushioned his body. He breathed in and out, rough, not moving.

Hands picked him up, dusting the snow off of him. He felt the fur being wrapped around him, but it was cold and damp now, and not nearly so warm as before. Then, arms lifted him up in a bridal carry.

“I’m not a wife…” Shen Yuan protested, but he was having trouble processing everything that was happening.

A soft sound hushed him, and those arms held him even tighter.

It was Luo Binghe. He didn’t need to ask to know that. Maybe it was the solid comfort of that fact that allowed him to drift off, even during such harrowing circumstances.

***

When he woke again, Shen Yuan fought against his own confusion to take stock of the situation. This is what he learned:

They had fallen into some kind of ravine. The way out was too steep to climb with another person and too narrow to fly out of easily. It was a miracle that the jutting stone hadn’t gored them on the way down. They might not get lucky again a second time.

The blizzard was still raging, as if determined to keep them there for as long as possible.

Inside the ravine there was a nice little cave, all cozy and convenient. A half-burned fire pit sat inside of it, so they didn’t even need to search for wood. Shen Yuan wasn’t bold enough to ask if Luo Binghe had needed to clear out some unfortunate skeletons from their predecessors.

This was… rather serious, wasn’t it?

“You still can’t summon Mobei-Jun?” Shen Yuan asked, expecting it when Luo Binghe shook his head no.

“Both spiritual magic and demonic magic seem to be blocked,” the half-demon confessed, walking over to Shen Yuan and rubbing the immortal master’s arms in an attempt to warm him up. It was comforting, so he didn’t stop him. “I tried to send a message with the fox, but it returned after a while. And I set off a flare, but…”

“The blizzard probably blocked vision of it,” he finished knowingly. It shouldn’t have surprised him that the mountain which boasted being the ‘eye of the dragon’ held secrets within it. And of course Luo Binghe’s prolonged presence would trigger this discovery. The world functioned by such rules, after all. Everything bent, swayed, and swooped around the protagonist like he was its center of gravity. His will could sway hearts; a twitch of his fingers could part seas.

Shen Yuan had, in retrospect, been incredibly foolish.

Proud Immortal Demon Way thrived off of blood, sex, and tension. It required sacrifice for entertainment. He had grown content and lazy after so many years coddling Luo Binghe and seeing no sliver of this lurking danger. While he’d fed the demon sweets like a child, he truly should have been fleeing. However, even that wouldn’t be enough. Influence would creep its way toward him eventually, as this place quivered in reaction to the half-demon’s every motion.

After all, he wasn’t some visitor inhabiting a character, watching the stage play with breathless anticipation. Shen Yuan was a character. And he was a human being too. He was alive, just like everyone else.

So was the protagonist.

Luo Binghe’s hands shook from anxiety and Shen Yuan covered one of them with his own and met the man’s eyes. He had to look up at him. This person was larger than him now.

And he was a little scared.

Luo Binghe felt fear for Shen Yuan’s sake.

It was a genuine emotion from a living entity. And the situation they were in was truly dire, at least for one of them.

“I’ll be okay, Binghe,” Shen Yuan assured. However, he wasn’t certain of that. The law of this land said a ‘wife’ rarely died, but…

Sometimes they did. Sometimes Luo Binghe would hold the corpse of a woman he had yet to bed, grieve, and then carry on a revenge plot to bring her soul peace in the afterlife. His thoughts would always turn to a new target before too long, and the comments would howl with outrage from the woman’s few supporters. Yet, usually the decision was made if the readers didn’t feel very invested in the character.

Or, if they were too invested, Great Master Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky would use that against them, stoking tragic fire by slaying a lower level favorite.

Shen Yuan thought ruefully of the 110 reputation and swallowed.

He was a man. And he was an educator. He had guided the protagonist, who had yet to collect a single wife or seek any revenge. So, he was in a prime position for a climactic death. Maybe that would trigger the half-demon’s delayed blackening?

Ha ha ha…

What if he and Luo Binghe really did meet in another life because of some stupid reputation status? Would it be any different then?

Well, at least he had gained a year of feeling healthy in this life, regardless of whether he was this world’s Shen Yuan or his ‘original’ world’s Shen Yuan. He wished he would have seen more sights, or been more adventurous, but it was likely the case he’d only survived this long due to caution. But, all in all, he’d received quite the bargain. Five years living in this wondrous world, eating good cooking, and staying by the protagonist’s side…

Yes. He had lived a good life.

Luo Binghe shook him roughly, jostling Shen Yuan from his hazy, accepting thoughts. “Shizun!”

“Hm? What? What is it?”

“Your medicine?” His disciple said urgently.

Shen Yuan must have blacked out for a bit there, because he had no idea what Luo Binghe was talking about. “What? What medicine?”

“Shizun, your medicine— when did you last take your medicine?” Luo Binghe asked him, gripping his shoulders. Those fingers were digging in painfully, but the sensation kept Shen Yuan’s attention on him, so maybe it was purposeful. “You took it, right? And your meridians…”

Oh. Without A Cure.

“Of course I took my medicine,” he snapped automatically. “I always take it. How can I not, when—,”

When…

When Mu Qingfang always made a big show of coming around to…

And Luo Binghe or his brother cleared his meridians, and…

Wait. Had that happened recently? When was he supposed to take his medication? Come to think of it, the pouch with emergency supplies didn’t have those items in it. It wasn’t simply a matter of one single dose. He needed multiple medications to keep his body clear, so the poison wouldn’t…

The poison…

“Am I dying due to Without A Cure?” Shen Yuan asked aloud, mostly to himself. The stricken look on Luo Binghe’s face intensified, suddenly frantic, as if he’d just confirmed the man’s greatest fear.

“You didn’t take your medication?” He said, borderline hysterical.

It was the closest Shen Yuan had ever come to feeling scolded by him. There was nothing he could say to that. For years he had disdained the constant reminders, because it always made him feel ridiculous. Maybe half of his soul had endured this its entire life and felt some kind of latent resentment? Or maybe the other half just felt foolish and helpless at the nagging? Either way, being asked about it always put him in a bad mood, and eventually those around him had taken on the task of just shoving it all at him once a month, as a routine.

Yet now, when Shen Yuan had disrupted everything, those around him forgot too.

Luo Binghe had probably failed to think about it, or assumed he took it before they left Qing Jing Peak.

His brother and the others likely had similar thoughts.

Worst-case scenario, at least Shen Yuan should have known to take it. It was his body, and they had only harassed him about the importance of his medicine dozens of times!

Bullshit.

Without A Cure? More like Without A Brain! If he died, he was going to find Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky and he was going to haunt him! He was going to curse him with erectile dysfunction! Shooting Towards the Sky? More like Crashing to the Ground! If he had never touched a woman before, Shen Yuan was going to ensure he remained a virgin for the rest of his natural life.

It was only that type of personality that could justify sleeping with the protagonist as a cure for everything. Was it a self-insert fantasy? Did he really think a dick could be so miraculous that it could cure even incurable afflictions?

“…”

Shen Yuan, who had tuned out Luo Binghe’s panicked fretting in favor of his own vicious thoughts, froze. Eventually, feeling extreme cognizance, he looked around.

He was trapped with the protagonist in a mountain ravine during a blizzard, and there was no way to call for help. He had just so happened to forget about his medication for two weeks, so his body had gradually grown weaker as the lingering influence of the medicine tapered off and the poison slowly came to life again. Now he was going to die here, because he was trapped and stupid.

Except.

Except, he was with the protagonist. And Without A Cure had been cured in the original work. He knew that. He had always known that. It just never really seemed like a feasible option. After all, Shen Yuan was a man, Luo Binghe should have had no interest in him, and he should have returned that lack of interest. There was no way to be healed of his chronic illness under such circumstances without an immense lack of shame.

But Luo Binghe liked him—loved him, probably. And Shen Yuan…

He… definitely felt an emotion that was still too fragile to put into words.

That counted for something, right? This was close enough? The timing was bad, but if neither of them were against it, then it was a lot better than Shen Yuan dying in Luo Binghe’s arms.

“Shizun, are you listening to me?”

Luo Binghe’s voice was choked with panic, but Shen Yuan gave that little mind. Instead, he looked him over. Broad shoulders, the robes of a demon lord, and hands that were large and encompassed his own as they grabbed his numb fingers.

His disciple wasn’t really his disciple anymore, was he? When was the last time he had taught him? This was a man who could unite the three realms under a reign of chaos and floods of blood, if he so chose. Should Shen Yuan die here, maybe he really would go on to do such things. This world was ruthless, and the plot rewarded such actions. Satisfaction was king.

There was everything to gain, and nothing to lose. Shen Yuan couldn’t shelve the option anymore. Somehow, even though the prospect was mildly terrifying, he wasn’t actually feeling opposed to this.

Shen Yuan adjusted his hands to grasp Luo Binghe’s in his own. He looked the half-demon in the eyes, overflowing with conviction and sincerity.

“Binghe,” he said, “I need you to have sex with me.”

Luo Binghe stared at him with unconcealed shock, wide-eyed, as if he had never seen him before.

Chapter Text

Shen Yuan was not a shameless person. He had a great wealth of shame, in fact. If converted into a currency, it would have made him the richest man alive.

There were a few reasons as to why he could utter such a bold statement to the protagonist. Namely, he was a ‘wife’ who was about to die. The poison overtaking him made him feel a little drunk, and there was no other way out for them. A roll in the hay was not only the cure—it was the only cure. If Shen Yuan wanted to get rid of this affliction for good, he would simply have to do it. Even if he could have escaped this place with his life intact and received proper medical care in a timely fashion, eventually it would catch up to him. One day, his body would give in, and Luo Binghe would take the whole thing very poorly.

That was the crux of it. The idea of his own death did not overly trouble Shen Yuan, but he was deeply concerned about what it would do to his disciple. If there was one trope he never wanted to personally experience, it was the demise of a beloved master.

Because that beloved master was him.

Even if he could say the words ‘I need you to have sex with me’, that didn’t make him any less ashamed. His insides burned with mortification as Luo Binghe said nothing, failing to react. Eventually, the heavenly demon’s entire body gave a violent shudder, and Luo Binghe jerked his hands away to catch Shen Yuan’s wrists in his own.

“No,” his disciple told him.

That wasn’t the answer Shen Yuan expected. No? Since when did Luo Binghe say no?

“Why not?” He said, but his tone came out argumentative and challenging.

“Shizun, no,” Luo Binghe said sternly.

“What ‘no’?” Shen Yuan balked. After all that, stating such a terrible thing aloud, and the man refused him? This was a great injustice! He was giving up his ass here. Have some mercy! “Even if this master is incomparable in appearance, surely—,”

Luo Binghe shook his own head so roughly he risked giving himself a neck injury. “No, no, no. Shizun is beautiful— incredible. Much more attractive than this lowly one.”

“Okay, okay, we’re both pretty,” he said tensely, not wanting to have an argument over who the fairer one was. It made him feel like a woman, which he was already feeling all too much like given the circumstances. “Then why not? I thought—,”

He choked on his own words, face heating, but soldiered on anyway.

“I thought you liked me.”

“I do!” Luo Binghe told him desperately, leaning in close. His hands moved to Shen Yuan’s arms, clutching him. “I do! Very much!”

Shen Yuan’s face was heating further. Did he have a fever? He didn’t know, but surely this couldn’t be good for him. “Then why ‘no’?”

“We aren’t married yet!” Luo Binghe explained, anguish lacing his words.

“…”

Yet.

Okay, no, that shouldn’t have surprised him. But there would be no ‘yet’ if Luo Binghe didn’t get to sticking it in him! And why was he being like this now? He had bedded so many countless maidens and married them after, so what was the holdup?

“We can get married later!” Shen Yuan said.

“It isn’t right!”

“This master will make you take responsibility afterwards, Binghe. It’s fine.”

“But I didn’t want it to be like this!” Luo Binghe exclaimed. It sounded like he was on the verge of tears.

“What do you mean?”

“It was supposed to be—… I wanted… Everything needs to be perfect, and this isn’t… In this kind of place… And you’re…”

Luo Binghe seemed to catch himself, and his features hardened. He shook his head again, and when he opened his eyes, they were dark and mournful.

“Shizun is… dying. I can’t…” A beat. “Shizun should rest.”

Shen Yuan opened his mouth, intending to explain in great detail that if they simply slept together, then he wouldn’t die and everything would be fine. However, he stopped himself at the last moment.

Would he be okay? Would it cure him? If he told Luo Binghe that, the half-demon would readily agree to try it. After all, something was better than nothing. But what if Shen Yuan was wrong? What if the changes of this world had altered the protagonist’s sexual healing abilities? Or what if the original text just glossed over some important factor in the curing process? What if they needed the flower and Luo Binghe’s seed in combination? The whole thing hadn’t been very clear, so one could make a lot of assumptions. It was very easy to just glare at the screen and shout, ‘Magical sex! What nonsense!’

If he told Luo Binghe that it would cure him, and it didn’t, he might very well break the man’s ability to have intimate relations ever again.

He would demolish the heavenly pillar.

Such a thought was too tragic for him to bear.

The only other option was… to put pressure on Luo Binghe in the same way the wife who originally contracted Without A Cure had.

“I…”

Shen Yuan fought himself. He didn’t enjoy lying, so he wouldn’t do that. And that meant he quickly needed to wade through his own messy feelings, which was what he hated doing the most.

“I like… Binghe,” he said slowly, moving to place his hand on the protagonist’s chest. His disciple was still gripping his arms, but he wasn’t holding them in place, so Shen Yuan was free to move them. “I like him very much.”

“S- Shizun…” Luo Binghe stammered, eyes glossy.

“I have always… loved Binghe… in some manner or another,” he continued. “For a long time, it was familial. Recently, though… Binghe suddenly grew up. I… noticed it.”

Those fingers pressed into his arms. He could feel Luo Binghe’s hands quiver.

“My feelings aren’t familial anymore,” Shen Yuan said. “When I heard Jiu-ge wanted to send Binghe away, I… wanted more time with him. I wasn’t ready to let go. It was selfish of me.”

“Shizun, I don’t want you to let go,” Luo Binghe told him. Tears were streaking down his face now. “Never let go.”

“If I had, we wouldn’t be in this situation…” He pointed out.

Luo Binghe’s expression crumpled into one of guilt.

“I’m glad, though,” Shen Yuan said, before the half-demon could over think the implications of all that. “Going on an adventure like this with you was all I ever wanted. This master truly is satisfied, even if it ends here.”

“Shizun,” Luo Binghe said, voice strangled.

“Will you grant this old man one last favor?” He said, a note of sorrowful joking in his tone.

“Anything, Shizun.”

Shen Yuan wished this could have been better. He wished he could have fulfilled all of Luo Binghe’s dreams. But this situation was chaotic, and awkward, and it was all very them. How could he truly be upset that things ended up this way?

Maybe it would be for naught, and he really would die. Even so, part of him wanted to do this. It would make the entire experience feel complete. And wasn’t that what this world was all about? Satisfaction?

“Binghe,” he said, unable to look the other man in the eye as his face went red hot. “I… want you to make love to me.”

Unable to stand the weight of his own embarrassment, he added, smiling mirthlessly to himself:

“I really don’t want to die a virgin.”

Luo Binghe inhaled raggedly, and all at once he pulled Shen Yuan into a crushing hug. Black sleeves enveloped him as he was cradled in the protagonist’s embrace. Maybe this was another rejection? If so, that was fine. He would not push Luo Binghe into doing something he didn’t want to do. Already, his words were manipulative, but… they were also honest.

And the idea of sex petrified him, but if he was ever going to lie with another man, then…

He would want it to be Luo Binghe. No one else seemed nearly so suitable.

“Alright, alright,” he murmured, petting his disciple’s hair and letting the poor thing cry into his shoulder. “I understand. It was presumptuous of me to—,”

Luo Binghe turned his head, and suddenly they were kissing.

Or, rather, Shen Yuan was being kissed. He froze up at the gentle, chaste contact before his body relaxed. Oh, so it was like that, then. He hadn’t been turned down after all. They were actually going to do this together, and he was actually experiencing his very first kiss in two different lifetimes.

A sense of relief flooded Shen Yuan.

Whatever happened after this didn’t matter. Life or death, who cared? In this exact moment and place, he had done everything he could. The rest was out of his hands. He had never felt so incredibly freed of responsibility before, and so he kissed back.

All those years of worrying about the future slid off of him, like water on oiled feathers.

It was nice to just… forget about it all. For once. All the worry and anxiety. All the planning. His efforts to nudge the plot in a kinder direction had been small. Shen Yuan fought no magnificent beasts because he wasn’t powerful enough to. He knew too few people to have consequential connections. The protagonist’s life would be difficult and full of hatred, and his end would be apathetic, but right now…

Right now Luo Binghe was young and passionate. He was kind. He had hope. That was the kind of person kissing Shen Yuan and it was such an incredible relief that he still existed at all.

So, who would care if Shen Yuan put his all into returning the affection? Who would judge him?

Luo Binghe’s hand moved to his back, sliding lower down his spine until the half-demon had leverage to pull him closer, bodies flush together.

This was intense. Naturally, Shen Yuan had always envisioned himself holding someone else, but he was the one being held. It wasn’t so bad, though.

‘Ah, I’m too lazy. It’s fine if Binghe leads.’

When Luo Binghe pulled back, he was breathless and reverent. He kissed Shen Yuan’s face—his cheek, his jawline, the curve of his ear, and then down to his neck.

“Shizun… Shizun…” He said, like a mantra, quiet and whispered. “I don’t want you to die.”

“Hush, none of that now,” Shen Yuan scolded, petting Luo Binghe’s hair.

The demon youth made a soft noise of grief, but then relented with a remorseful hum. He began pulling the peak lord’s robes off, and Shen Yuan allowed it. The air was uncomfortably cold, but his skin felt warm all over. Not even the external temperature could dissuade his body’s interest.

Luo Binghe pressed him down into the furs, Shen Yuan’s upper half exposed. The heavenly demon closed the gap between them once more, kissing him wildly. His hands darted all over Shen Yuan’s body, feeling this and that, causing ripples of twitching, flinching, or pleasure.

It was quite a lot. Arguably, Shen Yuan wasn’t entirely coherent due to the poison, but he was aware enough to notice Luo Binghe’s natural skill. It felt like he was unraveling under his touch like a spindle of thread.

The passage of time blurred, more and more unclear, but all too soon Luo Binghe’s fingers traveled further south along the line of his body. He found Shen Yuan was hard beneath the remaining layers of his robes, and the demon smiled against his lips.

“What did you expect?” He muttered, petulant.

Instead of answering him, Luo Binghe massaged his captured erection, making Shen Yuan’s back jolt and his thighs tremble. “Shizun is small and cute…”

“Absurd,” Shen Yuan hissed. He didn’t say his true thoughts aloud, which were, ‘I am quite normal! It’s your dick that’s outside the norm here!’

Luckily, or unluckily, he didn’t have the capacity to remain irritated for long. After all, Luo Binghe was doing talented things with his fingers, and even if there was no direct skin contact it hardly mattered. Shen Yuan wasn’t in the habit of masturbating, so his sensitivity could be attributed to disuse. His breath turned quick, chest burning, and it felt very wrong to be so undone so quickly, but he was genuinely afraid this would escalate far faster than it should have.

“Binghe,” he gasped. A plea. “Binghe, stop, o- or—,”

Luo Binghe did not stop. If anything, his movements became more aggressive.

‘Fuck.’ Shen Yuan cursed in his head.

Man or woman, apparently it didn’t matter. The protagonist’s powers were something to be feared by all.

The ruthless pacing left him gasping and, with a suppressed whine, he came. The whole thing wasn’t very manly, but then again, that was probably appropriate. He wasn’t feeling particularly masculine as Luo Binghe continued to fondle his over sensitive length.

“That’s… enough,” he managed, pushing the half-demon’s hand away. His face was on fire and his chest was heaving. “Binghe… you’ve messed up my robes…”

“This disciple begs Shizun’s forgiveness, and will wash them later,” Luo Binghe said, moving to strip him of his remaining clothing. Shen Yuan decided not to stop him. After all, that was the point of this, wasn’t it? And Luo Binghe was talking about the future as if it was certain, so that was good too. What would be the point of washing a dead man’s robes while in a blizzard?

Right now, that fate wasn’t them. Not yet. So, whatever his little sheep wanted, he could have.

The sight of Shen Yuan completely nude on a bed of fur must have triggered something in Luo Binghe, because the youth began shirking his own wear with abandon. Finally, after having to rely on his imagination, he was able to witness the heavenly pillar in its glory.

‘What the fuck is that! No wonder he called me small!’

Luo Binghe’s cock was ludicrous. Not only was it longer than it had any right to be, but it was also thicker around. How was something like that supposed to fit into Shen Yuan’s body? Or even a woman’s? What kind of masochistic harem members did the stallion protagonist go around collecting? No wonder he needed so many in order to satiate his desire—if he had sex daily, he would have to wait for them to recover after one round!

Shen Yuan said a prayer in his heart for all the wives that had consummated with the blackened demon multiple times in a single session. He felt now that he could truly understand their struggles. No wonder Liu Mingyan had taken a look at the situation and declined to feature in a sex scene. What a smart and unparalleled woman!

Briefly, Shen Yuan considered his options. Death, or accept that thing into his body? He wondered if the result would be the same either way.

Ah, no, one of the two would make Luo Binghe much sadder. They couldn’t be compared.

“Binghe,” Shen Yuan laughed nervously, intimidated by the half-demon’s erection, “you wouldn’t happen to have lube, would you…?”

There was reasonableness and unreasonableness in the world.

“This one does,” Luo Binghe said.

“Ah, as I thought. I suppose we’ll just have to—,” Shen Yuan stopped.

He blinked.

“Wait,” he said. “You do? Why?”

Luo Binghe picked up the small bag attached to his robes and pulled a bottle out. Whose white lotus was this? Surely, not Shen Yuan’s! Those were some grey petals! Grey! How dubious!

“It was advised that I carry this on my person at all times, for the day I finally bed Shizun,” Luo Binghe stated matter-of-factly.

Shen Yuan's soul almost left his body. “You planned for this outcome someday…”

Well, that was fortunate, anyway.

“Do you know how to use it?” He asked, deciding to make sure the topic stayed firmly on this act rather than the surrounding circumstances. If Luo Binghe became too aware of Shen Yuan’s impending death, he might lose all will to proceed at the last second.

Luo Binghe nodded. Grey petals!

“This master won’t ask for the details,” Shen Yuan said weakly. “Just, ah…”

He searched for something to say.

“Be… gentle,” he finished, wincing at his own embarrassing words. How maidenly of him.

Patience was against them here. Not only was Luo Binghe’s character the type to rush in, whether it be a battle or a bedchamber, but Shen Yuan wasn’t entirely sure how long he had before the poison consumed him. Now that he was aware of what the problem was, he could feel the latter biting away at his spiritual veins, eating away at them. True, at this rate he might have until the next morning and so there was no hurry…

But how much of that would be conscious?

There wasn’t time to spare.

Maybe Luo Binghe also had that sense of urgency deep down inside of him. When the half-demon leaned in, a translucent fluid from the bottle coating his fingers, Shen Yuan hastily allowed him the access he sought as he probed at his legs. The cold pressure of a finger slid into his entrance, foreign and uncomfortable. Normally he would have complained more about it, but right now, he just did his best to adjust.

Luo Binghe released a wanting sigh. “Shizun is so hot inside.”

A blush came to life on Shen Yuan’s face. “At least some part of us will be warm, then.”

“Mn,” Luo Binghe agreed, flexing his finger inside of him. “This one learned many things about how to please Shizun. I want to see Shizun feeling good…”

‘Chatty,’ Shen Yuan thought darkly to himself. His own cock was limp from use, damp from the earlier fondling, but he still felt it give a yearning twitch. Such lewd words influenced him, no matter how confounding that was.

Distracted by his own thoughts, he choked a little when a crackled euphoria shot up his spine. Luo Binghe made a pleased noise, and Shen Yuan became acutely aware as that finger abused some vulnerable spot inside of him.

“B- Binghe!” He scolded.

“Is Shizun feeling good?” Luo Binghe asked innocently.

Good was probably subjective. Shen Yuan was mostly feeling overstimulated. It made his body jerk and his legs kick out. “That’s— Watch where you’re… Binghe—!”

He noticed when a second finger slid inside, but the additional pressure was nothing compare to that horrible rubbing. It was making his senses falter. He wanted it to stop, if only because it dominated his attention and made him lose control of how he reacted.

“Shizun looks like he’s feeling good,” the heavenly demon commented, voice dipping into something velvety and pleased.

Shen Yuan shook his head, but as the fingers pulled at him, tugging and stretching and coaxing him open, little waves of euphoria trilled through his blood. Undeniably, this was a form of pleasure, even if strange and offputting. It was becoming more and more difficult to reject the idea of enjoying it.

“Does Shizun know how many fingers are inside now?” Luo Binghe asked teasingly.

“Two,” he answered.

Luo Binghe laughed softly. “Four.”

Four—

How? He would have felt that many! That was a lot! Don’t lie to this master. It’s his ass you’re toying with right now!

Although, the stretch did feel intense. Was he really that open? Fine. He would accept it. Just another thing to note under ‘protagonist’s special abilities’. Maybe he shouldn’t have questioned Luo Binghe’s abilities with anal sex so much. Clearly, the youth could do anything he set his mind to, even if it was another man.

“Isn’t that… enough, then?” Shen Yuan asked. Luo Binghe could prepare him for hours, but it wouldn’t make the inside of him any more capable of handling him.

“I don’t want to hurt Shizun…”

Shen Yuan laughed a little to himself. “It might hurt a bit either way. I thought this master was so incredible that Binghe could hardly restrain himself. I suppose that’s not the case…”

The fingers slid out of him instantly, and Shen Yuan congratulated himself for understanding his disciple so well.

Luo Binghe’s hands grasped his thighs as he pressed in against him, moving into position. From the way he was panting, one would think he was the one who’d been suffering the most here. Shen Yuan’s gaze shifted to take in the sight of him between his legs and was taken aback. The heavenly demon mark on Luo Binghe’s forehead was luminescent, his eyes were animalistic, and sweat was dripping down his face. Just how much had he been holding himself back?

“This one will… This one will…” Luo Binghe muttered, on the precipice of entering him. It was like he was trying to ask permission.

“Binghe,” Shen Yuan exhaled, mirthful, “fuck me already.”

That broke through the half-demon’s hesitation. He almost regretted goading him as something too large jabbed at his person, seeking a way in. It found it, too, as Shen Yuan’s body gave, allowing that stupidly large cock a safe haven inside of him.

He tried to force himself to relax. He wasn’t all that familiar with this act, but he knew tensing up would do him no good. Still, try as he might, it was too much. He couldn’t handle it. That ridiculous dick was splitting him in two, and his entire body shook. Thankfully, though, Luo Binghe didn’t coddle him as he worked his way further inside. Shen Yuan didn’t know how he’d fare if they stopped in order to have a long conversation about this. He might lose his nerve entirely.

After far too long, Luo Binghe stopped.

Shen Yuan thought to himself, ‘Ah, I made a mistake. This is death too.’

“Shizun is… so tight,” Luo Binghe murmured, breathless. At least one of them was enjoying himself.

“No, you’re too large,” Shen Yuan corrected.

Luo Binghe chuckled and pressed a hand to the human’s stomach. Shen Yuan felt his organs lurch uncomfortably. “Bigger is better, isn’t it?”

“There’s a limit to that,” he gritted out.

“Then I’ll make Shizun feel good, I promise,” Luo Binghe told him.

Shen Yuan felt dread.

“Shizun tightened up more when I said that.”

“Don’t overthink it,” he told him.

“It’s okay. This disciple made a promise and intends to keep it.”

Foreboding.

Without waiting, Luo Binghe moved. And it hurt. Even though the motions were careful and easy, the girth was just too much. It took some time for him to pull out, and then he was going back in again. Shen Yuan broke out into a cold sweat, nausea swelling in his stomach. He tried to focus on breathing.

Again. Almost out and then in. And again. And again. A pattern. A rhythm. He couldn’t take it. But then, like his body had given up entirely, he began to get used to it. It still hurt, and it was still too much, but the pain was fading. Discomfort had filled up so much of his head that as it dimmed, it left him floating and empty.

“Ah…”

Luo Binghe was so large, the friction dragged his length over that abused spot inside of him. It was the prostate, wasn’t it? After being rubbed so aggressively before, it wouldn’t have surprised him if it had swelled a little. Now he could feel it more acutely as it was unintentionally stroked, rippling minor tremors through his blood.

It was dizzying to realize that, at some point, his gasping had become more vocal. Every exhale was a gentle ah sound as he desperately tried to mitigate the sensations inside of him. Had he zoned out, somehow? What was happening? Why was he suddenly enjoying this a bit?

“Shizun, this disciple… is going to go faster,” Luo Binghe told him, voice raw. Shen Yuan looked at the heavenly demon bedding him and a throb of desire shot through him. The man inside of him looked completely undone, eyes lit fire and expression wrought.

“Okay,” he agreed.

It was like he had cut a binding cable and set a monstrous entity loose.

“Binghe,” he begged the moment Luo Binghe started thrusting into him in earnest. The heavenly demon had his thighs in a vice grip and was using no small amount of force. “Binghe, slow down!”

“Can’t,” Luo Binghe grunted. “Shizun… Shizun feels too good. I can’t hold back…”

Fine, then! Fine! This master would deal with it, selfish grey sheep!

Shen Yuan grasped the fur underneath him, trying his best to weather the storm. The material was soft, but it was a thin layer between himself and the hard cave floor. His body hurt, his spine cried, his insides protested, and through all of that was one silver line of pleasure. Shen Yuan grabbed that last part and held onto it with everything he had. His focus caused it to meld together, pain blurring, and his voice went wild without his consent. As long as one part of him felt good, he could handle the rest. So far, that idiotic logic was working.

He really was beginning to feel, strangely enough, quite good.

That should have been impossible, so he blamed the protagonist for anything that came of this. If it was anyone else, this act would surely be bad.

“Binghe,” he warbled at some point, mindless. His body wasn’t keeping up with the other man’s stamina, but Luo Binghe didn’t seem to mind. The half-demon’s hands crept under his ass, lifting him a little, and the new angle put more friction on that sensitive spot. Shen Yuan cried out, and if he said anything, he wasn’t able to hear or understand the words.

“So good— Shizun’s so good, I…” Luo Binghe was saying. He had probably been complimenting him on and off for a while. It was all just noise in the end.

But as the pace became rougher and more vivid, Shen Yuan found remaining strength and returned some of the motion. Luo Binghe bent over him, and his fingers dug into the heavenly demon’s back. With a noise akin to a snarl, the man inside of him came.

Shen Yuan was exhausted down to his very core. The sudden lack of sensation made his body sing, endorphins crowding out the buzz of pain. He smiled vaguely, disoriented. He’d done it. His body had conquered the world’s largest dick.

It wasn’t as terrible as he had thought it would be. It certainly couldn’t compare to a heavenly tribulation, right?

“Very—… Very good, Binghe,” he managed to say right before he passed out.

***

When he woke up, his entire body hurt.

“Shizun?”

“Am I dying?” He asked the empty air.

Suddenly, he was being yanked up into an embrace and he yelped with pain, but those powerful arms didn’t release him. If anything, they tightened. His spine was screaming, but there was not a bit of mercy to be had. This was a murder attempt!

“Shizun!” Luo Binghe wailed, like a child. “Shizun, is okay! I was so scared!”

Shen Yuan gave Luo Binghe’s back a pat, energy drained. “Sex won’t kill this master, Binghe.”

‘Probably,’ he added silently.

Luo Binghe pulled away, shaking his head. “No, the poison— Shizun slept and got better!”

“Binghe,” he said tiredly. “We have fucked. There is no need to keep being so formal when it is the two of us.”

“I checked your meridians,” Luo Binghe told him, thankfully switching to a more casual form of address. ‘Shizun, Shizun, Shizun!’ was starting to make his head hurt. “The poison’s no longer spreading, and your qi is flowing better than I have ever seen! It’s like Shizun’s cured!”

“Good,” he said. “That’s good.”

Luo Binghe kissed him, hard, and Shen Yuan had no ability to push him away. And then he started kissing him all over his face, like a puppy lapping at its master with big tongue swipes.

“Binghe!”

“I’m just so happy!” He exclaimed. If he had a tail, it would have been wagging. “Shizun is alive, and now we’ll marry and start a family and I’ll protect Shizun and—,”

Shen Yuan suddenly felt fatigued and wondered if it was too late to coax the poison to come back.

“Yes, yes,” he said, dazed. “You’ve given me a child, we’ve consummated, and there’s nothing left to do but wed.”

Luo Binghe gave him a look that appeared more worried over his state of being than anything else. “A child? Shizun, I’ve never…”

Shen Yuan loosely gestured to the little fox that was sitting by the fire, watching them. It had probably seen too much, he realized, feeling immense pity for the thing.

“Shizun… that is not a child…”

“You gave it to me and I bestowed life upon it with my essence, so… a child.”

Luo Binghe gave him a complicated look and then said, “This one will explain procreation after Shizun rests.”

Ha ha ha…

What kind of conversation would that be?

“Then put this master down and let him rest already.”

Luo Binghe obliged. Once Shen Yuan was settled, he said, “Shizun, is your waist sore?”

“Yes,” he told him, thankful when those hands quickly moved to rub his back. “It is very sore.”

Chapter Text

After regaining consciousness only the once, Shen Yuan slept for two days.

When he woke, the snowstorm was over, and his body felt better than it ever had before, despite days in the cold. While curing the poison alone would have halted the destruction of his spiritual veins, he had reason to believe the injection of potent heavenly demon energy was responsible for healing all the long-term damage. Luo Binghe’s body was truly a work of the gods.

Or the work of one extremely misguided author.

Maybe it was because he had bent the world’s natural progression, diverting it from its expected path, because Shen Yuan himself still felt incredibly roughed up. Why couldn’t the seed ease his aches and pains, too? Was that too much to ask? He never read about any of the wives complaining, so maybe it was because he was a man. The world had decided the restorative properties ended where the narrative had dictated…

“Shizun, let’s leave this mountain,” Luo Binghe told him. As relieved as he must have been to not watch him die, his expression reflected what Shen Yuan felt. They were both sick of this place.

Without the storm, it was easier to untangle the maze arrays and make their way back to the desert. Once they were clear of any obstruction, Luo Binghe picked him up and flew him to the nearest town on his sword. Shen Yuan didn’t realize how hungry he was until he was being led to a small restaurant and coaxed to sit in the chair.

“This disciple will cook for Shizun later, but let’s eat here for now.”

“Alright,” Shen Yuan agreed.

Afterwards, they rented an inn room.

“Shizun, this one will fetch water for the bath. Please relax here,” Luo Binghe said, moving to exit the room. Shen Yuan followed him. “Shizun?”

“I have some energy,” he told him, giving his shoulder a soft pat. “I’ll help you carry the buckets.”

Luo Binghe frowned but didn’t object as he made his way through the inn. “You should rest. I can handle it.”

Noting the dropped formality, Shen Yuan smiled to himself. “We can rest together in the bath.”

“S- Shizun!” Luo Binghe nearly tripped over his own feet.

“Watch your step,” he teased.

Luo Binghe told the innkeeper their intent and soon they settled into the familiar routine of carrying hot water back to the room. It was kind of nice, doing something so mundane together.

“Shizun should really take it easy…”

“I have ‘taken it easy’ my entire life,” Shen Yuan said. “How many times do you think my brother did this for me when I was a child? He never even let me help him.”

“Shen-shibo is a good brother.”

“Don’t encourage him, Binghe,” Shen Yuan scolded. “He is insufferable. If I caught a cold, he would spoon feed me like a child.”

“Shen-shibo is an excellent brother,” Luo Binghe decided, upgrading the man. He looked at Shen Yuan as they entered their room, amused. “This is the first time I have heard such stories. Was he always as mean as he is now?”

“Binghe, be respectful,” Shen Yuan said. And then, “Also, yes.”

Luo Binghe laughed. It was a wonderful sound and did strange things to Shen Yuan’s chest.

“I’ve really never spoken of it before? That’s strange. I—…”

Shen Yuan had just dumped his bucket of water into the tub when he froze. His brow furrowed as he stared at the shallow puddle they’d created.

“I… remember it?”

Luo Binghe looked at him, curious. “What?”

Shen Yuan was quiet, brow furrowed, and then shook his head. “Nothing. Let’s finish preparing the bath.”

He fell silent as they carried the water in, mired in his own thoughts. When they finished, the tub could just barely hold the both of them with enough space to wash. He stripped and sank into the water without realizing how strange this was. After all, he had only seen Luo Binghe nude the one time, in a dark cave. It was too early to be this close to one another, right?

They were both men, though…

Men who… slept together…

Well, it was fine. Luo Binghe was the protagonist. They were probably going to get married. A bath could just be a bath. The other man had seen it all before, anyway.

“Binghe,” he said, breaking the silence after a while. “Do you remember what I said about my soul?”

“Shizun’s soul?” Luo Binghe repeated.

“I told you I couldn’t recall anything from before it was… torn in two,” he told him. Luo Binghe’s expression turned grim, but he was watching him closely, not understanding why this was being brought up now.

Shen Yuan looked at him.

“I remember it now. I remember all of it.”

“Shizun recalls… how it happened?” Luo Binghe ventured.

“Everything. My childhood here, as well as my childhood in that other place. Everything I experienced in both lives. I remember it all.”

“Who hurt Shizun?” Luo Binghe asked, unwilling to lose the question that had his complete focus. “Who hurt your soul? How were you poisoned?”

“I…” Shen Yuan looked up at the steam. “One of those two is dead now. Jiu-ge killed him.”

“Which one?”

“The one who fractured my soul.”

“His name?”

“Qiu Jianluo.”

“Who was he?”

Shen Yuan smiled. “Is this an interrogation?”

Luo Binghe’s eyes bored into him, so he sighed and scratched his cheek before making himself more comfortable in the bath.

“Jiu-ge and I were orphans. We ended up being sold into serving the Qiu family. Qiu Jianluo was… not very nice. Especially to Jiu-ge. I was a little weak-bodied, and I fell ill easily, so I was allowed a lot of leniency. I learned later it was because Qiu Jianluo found my brother was more entertaining, so he focused all of his ill will on him. When he attacked my soul his intent was likely to kill me in order to make my brother suffer. But Jiu-ge had already begun learning cultivation at that point, so he would transfer his qi to me in order to keep me stable.”

“Shizun…”

“I was bedridden after, so I don’t know too much of what happened during that time. One night, when we were older, Jiu-ge came to me covered in blood. He carried me on his back, and we ran away. I don’t think I need to explain to you what happened.”

Luo Binghe nodded, and it was a little unfair of Shen Yuan to phrase things that way. He just didn’t need his disciple to know the true extent of the slaughter his brother committed. It wasn’t his story to tell.

“And the poison? Who poisoned you?”

“The jianghu who helped us escape did,” Shen Yuan explained. Luo Binghe’s face became severe with barely concealed rage and he could sympathize. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, after all. “When Jiu-ge refused some order, they ended up fighting. I don’t know the details of it all, but the man escaped after poisoning me. It is a miracle we both didn’t die that day, but you’ll need to ask him if you want more information. I wasn’t very aware for much of it…”

“This one will,” Luo Binghe assured him.

“Although, knowing Jiu-ge, do you really think he let that man live?” Shen Yuan asked.

Luo Binghe hesitated. His expression eased, and he leaned back in the bath, looking fairly pensive. “Shen-shibo is an outstanding brother.”

“Will you be able to say that to his face?” Shen Yuan joked.

His disciple frowned suddenly, but eventually said, “Yes.”

“It may be for the best if you don’t,” he told him, feeling remarkably light-hearted. “I’m not sure if he could stand being complimented by the one who seduced his baby brother.”

Luo Binghe’s cloudy demeanor cleared in an instant.

Shen Yuan came to regret his words, as suddenly the other man became far too clingy for an innocent bath.

***

It was just a leisurely stroll around Cang Qiong Mountain.

That was part of the problem, actually.

When Shen Yuan returned, Shen Qingqiu agreed to his suggestion that they have a long chat about everything. He directed Shen Yuan to put on some nice clothing, which was, of course, Shen Qingqiu’s clothing as his own was much more modest, and then…

And then they went for a walk.

Shen Qingqiu had dressed in his usual attire, and Shen Yuan was wearing a spare outfit of his. Rather than his casual or lower quality white, soft teal adorned him. His inner robes were black, and his outer robes had a white patterning. Shen Qingqiu had said the selection was, ‘To match that fan of mine you took.’

His twin had fixed his hair for him, decorating it with a black and white hair crown. Even when imitating his brother, he had never felt so incredibly ornate. The part of him raised in this world felt awkward, and the part of it raised outside felt like a cosplayer. It was a strange emotion.

“Jiu-ge, is this really necessary?” He whispered to him as they passed through Qing Jing Peak and gained numerous stunned stares. Shen Qingqiu’s disciples were gawking at them openly, some even dropping what they were holding. It seemed as if, miraculously, knowledge of his existence had stayed with the peak lords. Everyone else was entirely unprepared.

“You are Qing Jing Peak’s second lord. You are apparently in fine health, so yes, of course,” Shen Qingqiu told him, openly bitter. “The only thing left to do is change your name and the transition to full role will be complete.”

Shen Yuan laughed weakly. They had left Luo Binghe at the bamboo house, so it was only the two of them. His brother was clearly in a bad mood after learning that the half-demon had done what he could not: cured Shen Yuan’s poisoning.

Honestly, Shen Yuan was going to take the details of that to his grave. Neither Luo Binghe or Shen Qingqiu really needed to know.

“I’m not changing my name, Jiu-ge,” he said softly.

“Not even to ‘Luo’?” Shen Qingqiu challenged.

Shen Yuan flinched at the directness of the question and flapped his fan idly. “Well…”

“I don’t approve,” Shen Qingqiu bit out, venomous. “That whelp is unrefined. He lacks the ability to take care of A-Yuan properly.”

“That’s your disagreement?” Shen Yuan said. “Not the fact that he’s a man?”

“He’s a boy at best,” Shen Qingqiu argued. “And being a man is no matter. A woman would desire A-Yuan to take care of her— preposterous. Take a man instead and deny him bedroom pleasures. That is a better way.”

Shen Yuan carefully said nothing to that, because if his brother knew they had already done it and that he’d had dark bruises up his back to show for it…

He might very well kill Luo Binghe.

“So I’m fit enough to be a peak lord, but not so fit as to have intimate relations with a husband?” Shen Yuan said instead.

Shen Qingqiu smacked him with his fan.

Shen Yuan hissed and moved away from him. Why did he feel like he was a daughter that was being given away?

Surveying their surroundings, he noticed a few of Shen Qingqiu’s disciples were subtly trailing after them, as if they didn’t want to lose sight of the bizarre image before them. It must have looked like their Shizun had made a copy of himself and was parading around with it. He couldn’t recognize them on sight alone, but the singular girl was probably Ning Yingying.

He had always liked her in the original novel, so he gave her a little smile and a wave. She stumbled, as if about to faint.

“What?” Shen Qingqiu snapped when Shen Yuan hid a laugh behind his fan.

“Nothing, just having a bit of fun.”

His twin turned a little, noticed the ducklings following at a distance, and his expression darkened. Surprisingly, though, he did nothing to dissuade the young flock. “Stay away from them. I don’t want them getting any ideas.”

“What do you mean?”

“If they so much as share a cup of tea with you, they’ll be begging to become your disciples.”

“I don’t intend to take on anymore. There is no need to worry.”

“Good. I allow you one and look what happens—you immediately go off and leave me behind.”

Shen Yuan stopped walking. “Jiu-ge…”

“Don’t ‘Jiu-ge’ me,” his brother said, crossing his arms and glaring at him. “I’m not angry. It was only a matter of time. I knew what he was, I knew what you two were up to, I knew how he looked at you, and I let him stay. If there is blame to be had, it falls squarely on my own shoulders.”

“You… knew what he was?” Shen Yuan said.

And then his brow furrowed.

“What do you mean you knew ‘how he looked at me’?”

“It is obvious to anyone with eyes what he is,” Shen Qingqiu said tersely. And then he waved his fan at him. “And his gaze has carried visible lust for years. The dog made you happy, so I bit my tongue, even knowing the two of you were surely engaging in all manner of licentious acts.”

“…”

Shen Yuan felt a cold sweat break out over his skin.

Finally, he asked, “If you thought we were already like that, then why were you trying to send him away?”

“So long as I needn’t witness his interest, I could ignore it, but he was becoming more aggressive by the day. His blood would make him unfaithful in the long run, so I felt a distraction was in order. If he fell into relations with another, you would see his true colors and I would be rid of him at the same time.”

The breeze blew the bamboo leaves, rustling them gently.

“Jiu-ge,” Shen Yuan said, unsure of what he was feeling, “this brother appreciates your concern… but Luo Binghe and I were not in that way until just a few days ago.”

Shen Qingqiu’s expression didn’t change for a long time. It was, for him, unusually blank. Eventually, his lips began to move. “You mean, had I successfully sent him away… my brother would have kept his purity?”

“Perhaps,” Shen Yuan teased, amused.

The elder twin put his head in his hand.

“I will kill him,” he said. “And then I will kill myself.”

“Jiu-ge…” Shen Yuan laughed. “Qi-ge won’t like that at all.”

“Qi-ge can kiss my ass.”

“I believe he already does that.”

Shen Qingqiu sighed deeply, but didn’t deny it. He looked incredibly miserable now, but the conversation was still remarkably light-hearted, so Shen Yuan didn’t mind.

They continued their stroll, and eventually, the ducklings fell away as they walked further and further from Qing Jing Peak.

“I have another topic that will interest you, Jiu-ge.”

“If it is anything like the last, please spare me.”

“No, it isn’t related,” he told him as they stopped to observe a tranquil pond. “The matter relates to my missing memories… and the fact that I remember them now.”

There was silence. After it stretched on too long, Shen Yuan looked at his brother. The other man had frozen, face made of stone. When he spoke, it sounded fragile. “Do you?”

“I can’t understand what terrible thing you think must be lurking in there for me to react badly,” Shen Yuan said carefully.

“The Qiu manor and…”

“A lot of that was already a blur, but… you did what you needed to do.”

“I have disappointed you.”

“No,” Shen Yuan assured him, “you have not. If nothing else, I would gladly recall it all if only to hold on to the sheer anger I felt when I found out you had stabbed yourself.”

Shen Qingqiu scowled. “If Wu Yanzi had succeeded in killing you…”

“You didn’t even wait to find out before trying to end your own life, Jiu-ge. Besides, there’s no reason for you to die with me. We’re not a match set. We can exist independently.”

His brother went pale, like he’d been struck a harsh blow. “I…”

Shen Yuan grasped his hands. “You’ve taken care of this brother for a long, long time. I think some rest is in order, don’t you?”

Reading the original work, Shen Yuan never could have imagined how soft Shen Qingqiu’s face could become. For a moment, his expression was gentle and sad, and reminded him of the delicateness of his own features. It was like looking in a mirror.

And then the sharpness came back and Shen Qingqiu brushed off his fingers and pinched his cheek roughly. “You are such a brat.”

Shen Yuan winced, but his heart felt full. When his brother stopped abusing his face, he said, “Jiu-ge, take a vacation. Go with Qi-ge. I’ll watch over things here until you get back, and then I’ll set out for myself.”

“If I leave, you’ll get into trouble and have no way of contacting me,” Shen Qingqiu griped.

“Right,” Shen Yuan said, reminded of something. He reached into his sleeve and pulled the little demon fox out. His brother’s brow furrowed as his gaze flicked from the animal to his brother’s clothing, as if wondering where the thing had been hiding.

“What is this?”

“It’s a jade fox,” he said. “They’re historically called messenger foxes. This one is infused with my blood, so it’s like a little part of me. And its primary talent is delivering letters. If you send me one every month, I can feed it, so it retains my personality.”

“And you want me to have this?” Shen Qingqiu asked, dubious.

“Does brother not want it?”

Shen Qingqiu eyed the fox suspiciously for a while before slowly extending his palms like he thought it might bite him. It nimbly hopped on and gave the man its best ‘look at how cute I am’ expression.

“…”

Shen Yuan held his breath.

The fox wagged its tail.

“It does remind me of you,” Shen Qingqiu relented, looking depressed.

As if realizing the acceptance of that statement, the fox darted up his brother’s arm and settled in on his shoulder, appearing very elegant. Shen Qingqiu tipped his head back to appraise it, but otherwise didn’t seem overly bothered.

“Are you going to name it?” Shen Yuan asked.

Shen Qingqiu considered this question. “Xiao-Yuan.”

“That was fast.” Shen Yuan said, deciding not to comment on the name little Yuan. His twin was apparently the kind of person who only liked one thing and then proceeded to use it as a reference for everything else. It was admittedly adorable to witness it.

“When I return,” Shen Qingqiu said, as if his vacation was already a certainty, “you intend to leave immediately?”

“No,” he said. “I will stay awhile, I promise.”

“Where will you go when you leave?”

“I want to explore the demon realm with Binghe,” Shen Yuan said. He thought about it for a moment and added mirthfully, “Maybe we’ll attempt to conquer it.”

Shen Qingqiu, shocking Shen Yuan to his core, actually rolled his eyes.

Even with all of his memories, he had never seen him do that before.

Chapter Text

Luo Binghe already knew who was knocking on the door to the bamboo house. The lack of grace in that urgent rapping gave it away instantly.

He opened it, unimpressed.

Liu Qingge’s hand froze before the man dropped it in order to cross his arms. The two regarded each other, both sizing up an opponent. While Luo Binghe was nothing but grateful for the Bai Zhan Peak Lord’s investment in him, he knew this visit had nothing to do with swordsmanship.

If it was a more relaxed day, he might have asked him to a sparring match. After all, the best way to get his standing across would be to decimate him in a one-on-one battle.

However, he and Shizun had only arrived that morning. And right now, Shizun was out with his brother, spending time together in the fresh air.

Luo Binghe had spent many years watching the man he loved stay trapped in this little house, so he wasn’t about to do anything that might disrupt his enjoyment of finally being free of it. Therefore, if Liu Qingge wanted to fight him, he would have to wait for another day. The clashing sound of swords would crowd out the serenity of wind against bamboo leaves and the faint melody of instruments.

“So you’ve returned,” Liu Qingge finally spoke.

“Yes,” Luo Binghe indulged. “Shizun and I decided to come back early.”

“Hm,” Liu Qingge noised, accepting this. “And where is he now?”

“Shizun is with Peak Lord Shen Qingqiu,” Luo Binghe informed him.

Liu Qingge looked surprised.

“Shizun is in better health now,” he continued. “So, he has no need to stay inside anymore.”

It was half a boast and half a general statement. After all, Shizun had recovered while with Luo Binghe, and that was something to be proud of even if he failed to fully understand it. While Liu Qingge didn’t know the details of his ailment, and did not need to know them, Luo Binghe wanted to make it clear that his future husband should never need be confined again. He could do as he pleased, and no one had the authority to stop him.

Liu Qingge didn’t seem concerned, though. He just tipped his head like he was thinking about something and then said, “That’s good.”

Luo Binghe’s patience was wearing thin. “Does Liu-shishu have a reason for this visit?”

The other man nodded. “I heard the two of you returned.”

“Shizun is not here at the moment, so you may leave,” Luo Binghe informed him, deliberately rude in his dismissal.

“I have some words for you,” Liu Qingge told him, expression hardening from the light contemplation it had been holding.

“Oh?”

“Whatever you are, or whoever you are… I don’t care,” Liu Qingge said. “You are not my disciple, and you cause my peak no issue. However…”

He paused.

“Should you someday come to part ways with Peak Lord Shen Yuan, I will not hold back in pursuing him,” the peak lord finished.

Luo Binghe rose a brow, feeling murder swell up in his blood. He smiled viciously, eyes turning into crescents. “Is that so, Liu-shishu? This lowly disciple will keep such things in mind.”

Liu Qingge gave him a firm nod, then turned and walked away.

He watched him go, not moving from his position at the door until the Bai Zhan Peak Lord fully disappeared from sight. His thoughts swirled, dark and unhappy.

Shizun was truly incredible, and Luo Binghe would never wish to change a single thing about him. Yet that divine allure was dangerous, too. Liu Qingge was respectful and resigned, but others wouldn’t be. He would have to marry him quickly and then establish himself in some manner in order to ward off wayward suitors.

Mobei-Jun had always held the opinion that Luo Binghe had enough power to rule over others. He didn’t want that; anything that took time away from Shizun was not worth the energy.

There were other options, though.

Luo Binghe went back into the bamboo house.

The first time he had entered this place, he had been essentially powerless.

Now, however, he was strong enough to take what he wanted from this world, and hold on to it with all his might.

***

Returning to Cang Qiong Mountain had initially been a matter of pragmatism. After all, both Shen Yuan and Luo Binghe had experienced hell together and needed a little break. His disciple had been a little dubious about going back so soon, likely wary that the other peak lords would kick up a fuss, but Shen Yuan had pointed out that seeing Mu Qingfang would be prudent and the half-demon had no argument against that. In fact, he suddenly became the most ardent supporter of the idea.

Shen Yuan naturally dodged the topic of how his poison had been cured, simply stating that he didn’t know until finally everyone stopped asking. Mu Qingfang examined him three full times before declaring him in top health. And, as if checking off a list of boxes, it was only after he was cleared that he took a leisurely walk with his brother in order to sort out all of their issues.

They had practically done a full lap of the mountain itself by the time they were done, which was something Shen Yuan would have never been capable of in the past. It gave his twin plenty of time to lecture him as they made a spectacle of themselves.

He had anticipated that once they made it back to Qing Jing Peak, things would fall into an easy routine. Shen Qingqiu would make arrangements to take a trip of his own and Shen Yuan would have Luo Binghe help him in regard to how to run a peak for a while.

What he didn’t expect was that very night, all the other peak lords would abruptly throw a large dinner. Attendance was mandatory, the messenger told them.

“Meddling idiots,” Shen Qingqiu said as he threw the invitation down onto the table. “You’re the talk of the mountain, so this is just an excuse to drag you out of hiding so they can get a good look at you.”

“If I’m going to look after the peak while you’re away, isn’t this a good opportunity?” Shen Yuan said.

“Opportunity for what? You don’t need their permission to perform the role already associated with your rank.”

“That’s true, but… it would be much more harmonious if they were familiar enough with me to know who I am. What if something happened? It would be better to have more connections to rely on.”

Shen Qingqiu gave him a long, scrutinizing look, and then sighed. “With that kind of attitude, A-Yuan will have no trouble replacing me.”

“I still expect you to come back, Jiu-ge,” Shen Yuan laughed.

“You’ll spoil all of my disciples,” Shen Qingqiu said, moving over to his desk to examine some papers. The words were bitter, but the emotion behind them was fond. “They’ll start hoping I die in a ditch.”

“I’ll let them know that if something happens to you, then I’m going to abandon them, and they’ll be forced to go challenge the Bai Zhan Peak Lord if they want to stay.”

His brother wasn’t facing him, and he said nothing, but Shen Yuan could see a satisfied smile perk the side of his lips up.

As the dinner was for the peak lords and their head disciples, it only made sense to bring along a certain person.

Luo Binghe was delighted.

“Isn’t acting as my head disciple a step down for Binghe?” Shen Yuan asked, somewhat concerned. Their relationship had developed beyond that now, and although they were probably going to get married at some point, he wasn’t entirely sure what to call it.

Wedding the protagonist seemed a matter of course, but words to describe their arrangement still felt incredibly embarrassing. Lovers? Fiancés?

None of it suited him, in the end. His mind settled on ‘Binghe is Binghe’. That was good enough.

“Being introduced as Shizun’s head disciple is a great honor!” Luo Binghe told him.

“You’re my only disciple, Binghe,” Shen Yuan pointed out.

“And I am Shizun’s best disciple!”

“Binghe, you’re best in a category with no competition,” he reasoned.

If anything, Luo Binghe’s expression became even more pleased. It would have been effortless to count all the little stars twinkling in his eyes as he looked down at Shen Yuan like a large, enamored puppy.

Eventually, Shen Yuan’s will crumbled. He opened his arms and Luo Binghe moved into his embrace. He had to reach up now, because his sheep was taller than him, but he still gave his head a pat.

“Yes, yes… Binghe is this master’s prized disciple, unparalleled in diligence and ability,” he told him.

“Shizun—!” The half-demon wailed, squeezing him tight.

Shen Yuan heard Shen Qingqiu make a noise of open disgust from beyond a screen, the other man sitting at his desk. He didn’t offer any commentary, however. If they had to fight over who had withstood more public displays of affection, the winner would be Shen Yuan. Yue Qingyuan was an incredible sap, and this couldn’t always be hidden, even if Shen Qingqiu had done his best to conceal it over the years.

Considering that his twin regularly engaged in sex with another man, and under the same roof too, it was no wonder Shen Qingqiu thought that Shen Yuan was cut from the same cloth and overlooked it. For years, Shen Yuan had snuck out to Luo Binghe’s room to pass on his spiritual energy to him. He wasn’t sure when the heavenly demon started openly displaying an interest in him, but if Shen Qingqiu had noticed it, then the conclusion would have been simple.

‘At least my brother is experiencing something normal,’ Shen Qingqiu had probably thought. ‘I will allow him to experience the pleasures of spring, even if I hate that it’s happening.’

Shen Qingqiu truly was an unrivaled softy, deep down.

***

Once preparations were complete, and it became time to head to dinner, a shy knock came at the door.

Shen Qingqiu, Shen Yuan, and Luo Binghe stepped out to meet with Ming Fan—Shen Qingqiu’s head disciple.

In the original novel, the boy had been described as having an average appearance, with an average face. It was said that he was always scheming and sucking up to Shen Qingqiu in order to earn his favor, throwing Luo Binghe under the proverbial bus at every possible opportunity.

Of course, in this world, the two still retained some of that history.

Ming Fan had grown into himself more, appearing scholarly and handsome now that his own shizun had whipped some sense into him. Yet those meticulous features crumbled a little as he beheld Shen Yuan and Luo Binghe. The youth’s eyes darted between them, unsure of which sight was more frightening.

He had seen Shen Yuan earlier in the day, most likely acting as one of the ducklings that trailed them. However, that was hardly enough time to come to terms with Shen Qingqiu having a twin.

Meanwhile, Luo Binghe was a devastating beauty, taller, and made no effort to hide his heavenly demon mark. His smile was a little dangerous. It clearly said, ‘Long time no see, Shixiong.’

Shen Yuan noted the tension in the air and nudged Luo Binghe with his elbow. That made his disciple’s attention switch to him, instantly dissolving into something soft and adoring, as though flower petals were floating through the air.

“Ming Fan,” Shen Yuan said, and the youth’s attention turned to him. There was an unreadable look in his eyes. “Thank you for your efforts on behalf of my brother over the years. You have grown up well.”

He watched Ming Fan’s face pale before rapidly darkening with a fluorescent blush. It must have been overwhelming receiving such praise from someone who looked and sounded like Shen Qingqiu.

“Don’t coddle him,” his twin snapped. And then, “Ming Fan, we don’t have all day. Let’s go.”

“Y- yes, Shizun!” Ming Fan said, face going pale again as he wobbled into position to take the lead. Poor thing was trying his best. Shen Yuan really felt sympathy for this cannon fodder character. He never stood a chance in this world.

Luo Binghe walked by Shen Yuan’s side as they made their way to Qiong Ding Peak. He kept giving him furtive glances.

Shen Yuan snapped his fan open and then, after assuring himself no one was looking, made a gesture with it for the half-demon to come closer. Luo Binghe obliged, leaning toward him as if expecting to have his ear whispered into.

Instead, Shen Yuan grazed his lips across the other’s cheek before pulling away.

Spoiled, sticky thing.

All the annoyance and jealousy fled immediately as Luo Binghe straightened, proud as a tiger with a spring in his step.

***

“Oh! Good show, good show!” Wei Qingwei cheered, extremely drunk.

The Wan Jian Peak Lord was clapping as Shen Yuan performed a few airy moves, displaying all the elegance and grace Qing Jing Peak was known for. Just because he had been too unwell to execute them in the past, it didn’t mean he was unable to. After all, he had taught Luo Binghe a few techniques. With the poison out of his system, he could put all of his spiritual energy into getting every nuance and flourish just right.

His sword, Xiu An, gleamed and darted like a flash of moonlight.

The dinner was being held at one of Qiong Ding Peak’s more illustrious pavilions. Shen Yuan never acknowledged that this event was being held for his sake, hoping not to draw too much attention to himself. Everyone else seemed all too aware that this was the case, though, and so they inundated him non-stop with questions and commentary.

Luo Binghe had stepped in more than once to rebuff the offers of alcohol on Shen Yuan’s behalf, leaving him feeling rather bemused, but perhaps it was for the best. Who knew what he would say if he got himself drunk? If he began talking about Proud Immortal Demon Way, he might seem like a lunatic. They would suspect delusions were the reason for his seclusion, and Shen Qingqiu would lose no small amount of face.

“He’s so graceful, I wouldn’t mind a disciple like him on my peak,” Qi Qingqi said, loud and teasing. Shen Yuan’s face heated a little. He didn’t know what to make of her suggestion that he’d be welcome on Xian Shu’s all-female peak. “Mingyan, go show him a couple of dance moves. I want to see if he can perform them.”

Liu Mingyan stepped over to the open space Shen Yuan had been displaying sword moves in. He put Xiu An away, feeling like a crane about to be pounced on by a dragon.

He sent Luo Binghe a desperate look, but the half-demon’s lips had perked at the corners and he was watching the scene closely, gaze expectant. He was no help…

Shen Yuan switched to Liu Qingge, but the Bai Zhan Peak Lord had a similar expression.

‘Liu-shidi! Don’t let your sister disgrace herself by teaching a man! Have you no shame!’

Forced by the myriad of watching eyes, Shen Yuan could only oblige their hopeless, inebriated curiosity. Perhaps Liu Mingyan would perform a dance that wasn’t too feminine and help him keep his dignity.

If anything, the opposite was true.

Liu Mingyan, as if possessed by the heavens, performed a decadent, lithe set of gentle moves. They were easy to comprehend, but the idea of performing them made Shen Yuan’s blood run cold. The cheers of the other peak lords had reached a furious roar at this, and the pressure was too much to bear.

Unwillingly, Shen Yuan mimicked the elegant dance. He was so nervous that he at least tried to complete it properly, so the result was that he copied it perfectly.

The cheering reached fever pitch.

“More! Show him more!” Qi Qingqi yelled.

Shen Yuan was caught in the whirlpool of their excitement. He wasn’t able to struggle free until he’d been made to learn ten different dances.

***

It was a hilarious, yet honest, mistake.

Considering the number of people present at the meal, there was some amount of chaos. Thirteen peak lords, thirteen head disciples, and numerous Qiong Ding Peak and An Ding Peak disciples flitting about the area cleaning and serving. A mix up was bound to happen.

Yet it still surprised Shen Yuan when, after speaking briefly with Mu Qingfang, he ran into Ming Fan as he returned to his seat.

The youth he had bumped into immediately went rigid, saluted him, and said, “Apologies, Shizun!”

This gained little attention, as their surroundings were already loud, but it did make a couple of heads turn. Luckily Luo Binghe was distracted at the moment, and didn’t appear to notice.

Shen Yuan opened his fan and hid his mirth behind it. Instead of correcting him, he said, in his most imposing tone, “Careless. Run ten laps around the mountain.”

Ming Fan gave an imperceptible shudder but immediately turned without raising his head to go do as commanded, which led him to nearly running into Shen Qingqiu himself, who was standing behind him.

Naturally, this caused Ming Fan to startle, completely bewildered. He whipped his head around, as if expecting his shizun had merely teleported in front of him. Spotting Shen Yuan, whose eyes were smiling over the fan, it slowly dawned on him what had happened.

He looked thoroughly rattled.

“S- Shizun,” Ming Fan stammered, gaze drifting to the real Shen Qingqiu.

Shen Yuan’s twin gave nothing away, his face severe and proper. “You heard the Qing Jing Peak Lord. Laps.”

He gestured roughly with his fan.

Ming Fan fled to run laps. It wouldn’t take him long at his level, but it was likely still quite humiliating. Shen Yuan had almost taken it back, but then he thought of all the times Ming Fan had made Luo Binghe’s life hard when they were both younger. Ten laps were no big deal, considering that anyone else would have died because of that sabotaging cultivation manual.

Shen Yuan sat down, immensely pleased.

Beside him, Shen Qingqiu sat as well. After a moment, he said, “Not bad.”

The pleasure in Shen Yuan’s heart doubled as he smiled quietly to himself.

***

There was, generally speaking, a shocking amount of drinking at this event.

The peak lords who loved to drink… drank.

The peak lords who didn’t know what to make of a second ‘Shen Qingqiu’… drank.

The peak lords who kept their heads down… drank.

Even Liu Qingge’s face sported a tipsy hue, if only because the man reflexively took a sip of alcohol every time Luo Binghe did anything overly affectionate. Shen Yuan really felt for the man. It wasn’t easy to stay sober in this kind of environment.

Shen Qingqiu’s face was still stern, but he appeared to be in a relatively good mood. At some point, he pulled Xiao-Yuan out of his sleeve and showed it to Yue Qingyuan. Shen Yuan had no idea what they were saying, as his brother was leaning away from him, but he was probably explaining what the little demon was and how it worked.

No one had told Luo Binghe that the man was in possession of the fox, so when he noticed it his hand suddenly made a desperate grab for Shen Yuan’s shoulders. The fingers squeezed down as he pointed at Shen Qingqiu, scandalized.

“Shizun, why does Shen-shibo have our child?” He demanded.

Peak lords who were too drunk to think too hard on what was said laughed. Shang Qinghua looked at them with a raised brow, then at the fox, then returned to his meal like he couldn’t be bothered.

“Binghe, it isn’t— you said yourself…”

“Shizun called it our child, so it’s our child! Why does someone else have our child?”

“That little thing isn’t a proper child,” Qi Qingqi crooned. “If you really want to have a child with your lord, this master has some unique medicinal pills…”

Shang Qinghua turned back around, looking at her. “Do you? Aren’t such things incredibly hard to find?”

“Are you interested too?” She asked him, eyes glittering. The normally stern woman’s face was bright and cheerful. “If you men would like to experience that kind of thing, then of course I will happily assist you.”

Shen Yuan had a sneaking suspicion that this was a form of female vengeance. Whatever the outcome of those pills, it was probably bloody and painful. If women were forced to suffer such hardship, why not men too? That was probably her line of thinking.

Luo Binghe’s grip on his shoulder slackened, and he looked up at him. The half-demon’s brow was furrowed as he really considered the offer.

Given the circumstances, there was no question what he had imagined. Shen Yuan hit him in the face with his fan and heard his brother laugh beside him as he witnessed this.

“Ack!” Luo Binghe said, thoughts disrupted.

“Don't even think about it,” Shen Yuan warned him.

Luo Binghe gave him a wholly innocent look. “This disciple was not entertaining any untoward thoughts.”

A blatant lie. Shen Yuan made to smack him again, but Luo Binghe dodged, guilty.

Maybe he would practice inedia for a while, just in case his food was tampered with…

This was Proud Immortal Demon Way’s protagonist, even if he had taken on a different form in this world.

Luo Binghe was frighteningly cunning. And, worse, persuasive.

A man had to have his limits in life!

***

Ning Yingying’s curiosity couldn’t be contained.

She knew she hadn’t been invited to the dinner, and sneaking onto Qiong Ding Peak was deliberately misbehaving… but, in fairness, she wasn’t the only one who had done so. Various disciples from all the sects had now heard tale that the black leopard of Qing Jing Peak was one part of a matching set, and everyone wanted to know more about this other half. Once word got out that he seemed to be the nice and kind sort, the desire to see him raged like wildfire.

Qiong Ding Peak disciples chased off some of the less skilled disciples, throwing them off of their peak. Many others, however, were too advanced in their cultivation to be caught so easily. It was truly a grand spectacle. Arrays, artifacts, talismans, formations, and even secret arts were employed to get close enough to spy on the proceedings.

Ning Yingying went one of the easier routes—she simply asked a friend of hers from Qiong Ding Peak if she could help in the kitchen and was accepted. She had enough skill that no one looked at her twice, even if they knew she didn’t really belong there.

At one point, she got Ming Fan’s attention, drawing him away from the dining area for a bit of gossip.

“What’s he like? What’s he like?” She asked.

Ming Fan smiled weakly at her. “… Formidable.”

“Really?” She asked. She had now seen him up close a couple times when she brought out some platters. “He looks gentle.”

“He’s… probably that way too,” Ming Fan relented.

“Is he a black leopard like Shizun?” She asked.

Ming Fan shook his head. Then, hesitantly, he said, “Considering he was the true cause of Shizun’s behavior, a different beast might be more apt.”

“Oh,” Ning Yingying said. “Like what?”

“A mother of some sort,” Ming Fan said with utmost sincerity.

Ning Yingying’s eyes went wide, but then she nodded as her face split into a huge smile. “You’re right! That’s exactly like what he is! A mother beast guarding her young!”

There were a couple other invading disciples that had likewise snuck their way into the kitchen and overheard this entire exchange.

By the next day, heated debate would secretly engulf the mountain, as everyone argued over which fierce creature Shen Qingqiu most resembled, given this recent development.

***

At some point, Liu Qingge removed himself from the main table to stand in a corner under the open sky. Shen Yuan had been waiting for a chance to talk to him, so after soothing Luo Binghe’s jealousy and forcing his disciple to stay with the others, he excused himself in order to join the Bai Zhan Peak Lord.

The man looked at him, looked over at where Luo Binghe was, and then returned his gaze to Shen Yuan’s face with a raised brow.

“We met before all this, didn’t we?” Shen Yuan said.

Liu Qingge seemed to give this question a lot of thought. Eventually he said, “Yes. You saved my life.”

“No, not that,” Shen Yuan said. “Earlier than that—when we were both disciples.”

The other peak lord frowned. His expression was mildly perplexed, and he seemed to sort through his memories, looking for the incident Shen Yuan was alluding to.

“At the time, I don’t think I really understood the situation,” he continued, deciding to explain it. “Now, however, I do.”

“Oh?” Liu Qingge said.

“Bai Zhan Peak used to regularly invade Qing Jing Peak, right? Back when you were a disciple?” Shen Yuan said, making idle motions with his fan as he recalled it. “I remember now that one time you burst into the little side house Jiu-ge and I lived in.”

Shen Yuan’s existence had always been a secret, indulged by the previous Peak Lord. Even their fellow disciples didn’t know about him, so some ruffians from Bai Zhan Peak certainly didn’t. Shen Yuan vaguely remembered his brother commenting about how ridiculous it was that everyone suspected him of favoritism for having his own separate home. Shen Yuan was warned over and over not to go outside with his poor constitution, because if they spotted him, they would think he was Shen Jiu and bully him.

Naturally, someone like Liu Qingge, who particularly disliked Shen Jiu, would have wanted to invade his special little sanctuary. Knowing about their terrible relationship from the novel, Shen Yuan’s hazy memories made perfect sense.

He had been extremely ill that day, when someone he didn’t know barged into the small house. The inside was only a single room, with a slightly larger than normal bed and some sparse belongings. It was probably that person’s intention to trash the place, but then they noticed Shen Yuan in the bed.

Of course, the Shen Yuan he was in that memory didn’t know this young man would become the future Liu Qingge. But he knew enough about how few people liked Shen Jiu, and so he withstood all the insults hurled at him on his twin’s behalf.

‘So what? You’re really this weak after all? Pathetic.’

‘You don’t look so high and mighty now.’

‘Aren’t you going to say anything?’

‘Hey.’

‘Are you okay…?’

Shen Yuan didn’t speak, and he couldn’t really recall what happened after that. His memory didn’t extend to when the person left. Maybe he had fallen asleep.

Either way, it seemed his words had aided the peak lord beside him, because Liu Qingge went completely rigid as realization dawned in his eyes. The man, who had showed little emotion this evening, suddenly looked at him with something akin to distress.

“We didn’t run any more raids after that,” he said.

“Oh?” Shen Yuan was unsure of how that was relevant. “That’s good then.”

“…” Liu Qingge’s expression was dark. He seemed like he wanted to say something, but couldn’t find the words.

Shen Yuan was uncertain what was running through his head, so he spoke what was on his mind instead: “Anyway, I brought it up because I remembered it only recently. Liu-shidi was so cute and spirited in his youth. I’m sure he kept Jiu-ge on his toes.”

Liu Qingge searched his face, emotions incomprehensible. Eventually, he settled on something and his jaw tightened as he gave a firm nod.

He reached out and awkwardly patted Shen Yuan on the shoulder.

His words were cryptic as he said, “I will never give up.”

And then he walked away.

Shen Yuan stared after him, confused, before he briefly glanced in his brother’s direction. Shen Qingqiu and Yue Qingyuan were bickering over something.

‘Does Liu Qingge have feelings for Jiu-ge?’ He wondered, mystified.

If so, poor guy. What a hard life he must lead.

***

Luo Binghe was in a foul mood, so Shen Yuan pulled him away from the others for a little while, taking him on a short walk around the near garden. Decorative lanterns illuminated the area with the expectation that people might engage in such leisure during the proceedings. It was very tranquil.

“What is on Binghe’s mind?” He asked.

Shen Yuan expected the half-demon to begin ranting about Liu Qingge or even his brother, so it surprised him when the youth said, “Shizun seems happy here.”

“Tonight has indeed been fun,” he confessed. “Why does this upset you?”

Luo Binghe shook his head. “This disciple—… I am happy when Shizun is happy. But I wonder if maybe Shizun would be more at ease staying here forever.”

“Would Binghe also not stay with this master?” He questioned. “What is the issue?”

“Shizun would be much happier with these people than with me alone,” Luo Binghe said. “If something happened, I could never make you as happy as possible. This one is inadequate.”

Shen Yuan sighed deeply. “Binghe… you’re speaking nonsense now.”

“I know.”

He turned to him, the gravel path crunching underfoot. “I will not pretend that this is anything other than a flight of envy, Binghe. Being accepted by others is truly an incredible feeling. And certain people here are my family. Nothing can replace these things.”

Luo Binghe nodded, ashamed and miserable.

“However,” Shen Yuan continued, “wherever Binghe is… is home. If you left with no intention of coming back, what would I do with myself? This master would be completely useless and depressed.”

“No!” Luo Binghe said, grabbing his hands. “Don’t be depressed! I will stay! I will never leave Shizun’s side!”

Shen Yuan freed one of his hands so he could reach out and pinch his cheek.

“Then don’t be so fussy, Binghe,” he told him. After a second of thinking on it, he softened and added, “… I love you.”

Luo Binghe stared at him, eyes wide. It took Shen Yuan a moment to realize that this was the first time he had ever said those words in this way, both in his head or aloud. It had just come so naturally to him as an expression of his feelings that he didn’t think too hard on it.

Then, of course, the tears came. Luo Binghe’s face went wet as he crashed forward and embraced Shen Yuan like he might die if they weren’t physically touching in three different spots. “I love you too! I love you too!”

He kept repeating himself over and over again, changing the way he said it as he cried into Shen Yuan’s neck. It was like he had all these phrases in his heart and needed to get them out now or they’d forever be trapped inside of him.

Shen Yuan simply pet his hair, face burning, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.

When he had first transmigrated to this world, it was as if that part of his soul had eclipsed this world’s part, like ink overtop ink. Perhaps it was Without A Cure that made the integration messy and botched the successful rejoining. As soon as it was gone, not only had the balm of Luo Binghe’s power eased the damage, it had untangled the overwritten memories.

As ridiculous as it was, that heavenly demon energy had pulled the top layer of ink off, settling it back on its own page properly, making everything accessible and readable again.

He was too powerful for his own good, in far too many ways.

This crying little lotus. White, grey, or black, Shen Yuan cherished him all the same. It would be best if the world never came to learn how extraordinary he was. If he could spend all his days protecting Luo Binghe’s peace, he would.

Daily merriment was much more important than whatever grand achievements this realm demanded he sacrifice himself for.

***

‘System,’ Shen Yuan asked, when things were finally winding down enough that peace was settling in around him. Some peak lords were so drunk they had fallen asleep, while others were engaged in drowsy conversation. There was an air of calm about the area. ‘What’s the current status of my primary objectives?’

He hadn’t checked it for the last few days, mostly because he’d been too fatigued. He had cured Without A Cure, experienced sex for the first time, and regained all of his missing memories. No one could blame him if he didn’t feel like checking in with his mostly useless System.

[Current status of all primary objectives is completion. Congratulations! Happy Ending Protocol has been initiated. This System will permanently deactivate in one year’s time.]

Shen Yuan blinked, stunned.

‘Wait, I completed all my objectives? Really? But I barely did anything other than getting fucked on a mountain! Are you sure about this?’

[Primary and secondary characters have achieved higher complexity, extreme plot land mines have been avoided, main character’s satisfaction is satisfactory, and hidden plot events saw exploration through completed side quests. User has met all necessary conditions for mission conclusion.]

‘What happens when you expire in a year? I won’t be killed off, right?’

[User will continue to exist in-universe without System interference. Benefit and punishment protocols will be removed. User has one year to spend accumulated points before System expiration.]

Shen Yuan considered this for a time, absorbed in thought. Finally, he asked it, ‘Is this really a plot fixing mission? Since I’m actually a character in this world, were you just here to help me rejoin the fragments of my soul? Is that why everything is fine now that I’m better?’

The System didn’t answer right away. When it finally came to life, it simply said: […]

He had a feeling it couldn’t tell him that was the case, which meant he had probably guessed right.

None of this had been about Proud Immortal Demon Way at all. It had entirely been about cleaning up the mess his childhood tormentors had caused. After all, it was likely a huge issue for half of a novel character’s soul to be stuck in a world where he could actually read the book he was from. That had to be some kind of horrific paradox.

In high spirits, Shen Yuan decided to be merciful and didn’t ask anymore about it. Instead he thought, ‘System, you said I could spend my points. Are there any repercussions for doing that?’

[Satisfaction points are a representative measure of accrued satisfaction. Reducing the number after the Happy Ending Protocol has been activated has no bearing on the protagonist’s satisfaction state.]

‘And what kind of things can I spend these points on?’

The System produced a list for him, filled with generalized categories. His eyes widened as he read it line by line. The available options ranged from dirt cheap to costly, although none shown exceeded his current points tally. The more expensive, the more life-altering they were.

Shen Yuan opened and closed his fan a few times.

This Happy Ending of his was about to get a hell of a lot more interesting.

The End