Work Text:
Transferring sub-account User 002-B to new primary account: User 003. Please refrain from interfering with the System during the transfer process!
Shen Qingqiu isn’t paying attention to the System. It hardly ever has anything worthwhile to say since the main storyline and the so called ‘extras’ have wrapped up. Survey this, poll that, help System with some minor maintenance… the damn thing has become much pushier now that it has nothing to actually do!
And like always, it seems to get the most annoying when he’s trying to have fun with his husband.
ERROR. Transfer incomplete. Current power source (Primary Power Source 002: Luo Binghe) is not capable of supporting three primary user accounts due to hardware limitation. Checking previous primary power source… … …
Shen Qingqiu moves the System window away from his line of sight with a subtle jerk of his wrist so the window now hovers far off to the right, just a sliver of blue in the corner of his eye. Satisfied, he wraps his arms around Binghe’s neck and pulls him back down for another kiss.
He completely misses the next several dozen messages. Next morning when he wakes up to a backlog of 172 ‘Urgent’ System messages he can’t be bothered to read through the spam and deletes them all in a fit of pique.
The story is over. Done! Happy endings all around! What could possibly be important enough to bother him like this?!
Previous primary power source is in peak condition. Confirm transfer? Y/N
Confirm transfer? Y/N
Confirm…
…
…
…
…
…
2 User(s) answered Y to transfer. 1 User(s) refrained from answering
Account transfer approved!
Transferring primary user accounts to Primary Power Source 001: Tianlang-jun
…
… .
Transfer complete!
Transferring primary protection measure (‘Protagonist Halo’) back to Primary Power Source 001
…
… …
… … ..
Transfer complete!
Please rate this experience at the following link:
“Binghe, wait up!” Shen Qingqiu hobbles after his husband, the makeshift splint not helping as much with his broken ankle as he hoped. Binghe has, naturally, offered to carry him all the way, but Shen Qingqiu has too thin a face to allow such a thing. If he lets Binghe carry him around in public, then it’s only a matter of time before he will insist on kissing him in public and then who knows how far he’s going to take the extravagant PDA next time? Demons have no shame!
Luo Binghe turns back and waits for him, but his head and attention is still firmly turned towards Qiong Ding. Shen Qingqiu extends his senses too, but he can’t feel anything through the sect’s wards.
“Are you feeling something?”
“Tianlang-jun and Mobei-jun are in the sect leader’s house.”
Shen Qingqiu frowns. It could be nothing, but he has lived in this world long enough to know that three of the most powerful people in the same room usually means something dire. “Go check out what’s going on. This master is going to retire to the bamboo house.”
“But Shizun! I don’t want to leave you alone.”
“No buts, Binghe. We will both rest easier if we know what’s going on and this master can’t walk that far.” Binghe whines at him, pouting like a kicked puppy, but Shen Qingqiu is wise to his tricks. “The sooner you are done greeting your shibo and the others, the sooner you can come and tend to me.”
Luo Binghe finally accepts that Shen Qingqiu is not going to cave on this matter, but not before he scoops his husband up and carries him to Qing Jing - “You can’t be expected to walk over the rainbow bridge with your bad leg, Shizun!” - reveling in the disciples staring at them, like the shameless showoff he is.
He blames it on Binghe’s shamelessness that his disciples and hallmasters all seem to grow flustered and hurry away with an awkward nod or mumbled greeting as he hobbles his way up the path leading to the bamboo house with as much dignity as he can muster. He notices the unusual amount of An Ding disciples swarming his peak, but thinks nothing of it. When he was last here, oh, some three months ago, his hallmasters tried to talk his ears off about renovating the roof of the library pavilion. He vaguely recalls signing off on it eventually, so the presence of a construction crew makes sense.
It’s only when he steps into the well-tended front garden of the bamboo house and Xiu Ya starts rattling in its scabbard when he notices that something is wrong; the energy of the peak is off.
The door of the bamboo house opens and there stands a familiar-unfamiliar figure, narrowed green eyes pinning him to the spot.
“ Shen Yuan . A word, if you would.” Those piercing eyes slide down to glare at his splint after just a moment, narrowing further in contempt. “What kind of idiot made that splint? Ying’er!”
Ning Yingying pops up from behind a nearby shrub, startling Shen Yuan, and smiling sweetly at the other Shen Qingqiu, like she’s meant to be there.
Like there’s nothing strange in the presence of two Shen Qingqius.
“Yes, shushu?”
“Take the other eavesdropping menace with you and fetch Mu Qingfang.” Having been called out, Ming Fan reluctantly rises from behind the same bush, looking just as shameless at being caught as his shimei.
“Right away, Shizun!” They scramble past Shen Yuan, hesitating for a moment before nodding silently at him as they pass.
With the disciples out of the way, Shen Qingqiu - oh god, is this the original goods?! - storms down the path to grab Shen Yuan by the back of his robes and haul him into the bamboo house. He makes a startled and completely undignified squeak when he’s lifted off the ground, which prompts the scum villain to smirk menacingly at him.
The interior of the bamboo house has changed completely. Shen Yuan is deposited on a couch piled with soft blankets and pillows and is left to sit there like a chastised child while the other Shen Qingqiu fetches the tea supplies. He must notice Shen Yuan’s distress at the change in decor, because he scoffs when he places the tray down on the table. “I have not destroyed your furniture, much as I wanted to set the whole house on fire to get rid of the stench of the little beast. It’s all packed into qiankun pouches for you to take with you wherever you move next.”
Shen Yuan lifts his head sharply, ready to admonish Shen Qingqiu for how he spoke of Binghe, but he finally takes in all the details that he has missed outside and swallows the barbed words back down. The man in front of him is clearly a demon - a heavenly demon at that, his demon mark a leaf green like Zhuzhi-lang’s - and Shen Yuan belatedly realizes that the house smells strongly of Shang Qinghua’s demon-cleansing incense. No demon likes having another stake claim on what they consider their home, so it makes sense that this demon in particular would be irked by having someone else’s energy stain his territory.
“You are Shen Qingqiu - the original Shen Qingqiu - right?” Shen Yuan asks, accepting a cup of tea with shaking hands when the demon practically pushes it into his hands.
“Yes.” With the original goods sitting opposite of him Shen Yuan suddenly feels like a cheap impostor, like he did right after transmigration. Shen Qingqiu has an aura of effortless authority and power, one that Shen Yuan has never managed to master. “My soul was bound to the mountain by the grief of my peers and then Tianlang-jun accidentally resurrected me.”
Of course it was something ridiculous like that , Shen Yuan thinks and takes a sip of the tea, surprised to find that it’s one of his favorites. When he looks up again, there’s a cruel little smile lurking in the corner of Shen Qingqiu’s mouth. “Before I was bound to the peak, I was bound to you , little shadow. I had plenty of time to learn your habits.”
Cold dread grips Shen Yuan’s spine, his eyes going wide with fear when Shen Qingqiu reaches a clawed hand out towards him.
It settles on top of his head, perhaps a little too hard. “I can’t say I approve of how you managed my life, but considering the alternative, I suppose you did the best that you could.”
Shen Yuan is speechless. It’s not a headpat, but it’s something similar and there must be something very concerning showing on his face because Shen Qingqiu withdraws his hand and gives it a scrutinizing look. “Hmph. This is not nearly as effective as you made it seem.”
“Wha-”
“Unlike what you seem to believe, I’m not incapable of learning new tricks. Thirteen years where I could do nothing but watch and think was more than enough time to reevaluate my life.”
Shen Yuan can’t imagine it. What could it be like, to haunt the place you once called home and see that the people have moved on, accepted the impostor in your skin as a better you because he’s nicer, more palatable than you were even at your best? Except, wait. The memorial! Shen Yuan was bitter and jealous when he found out about it, when he found out that people cared more for the absence of an abusive jackass than they did for the (presumed) death of his gentle white sheep. He eventually put it out of his mind, compartmentalized his anger and forgot it quickly enough. Now, in hindsight, he’s relieved it existed.
He looks at Shen Qingqiu again. He has sometimes entertained the idea of what he would say to the scum villain if they ever met face to face, but faced with the real thing his words refuse to form. He feels like a child dressed up in cosplay standing next to the actor he’s trying to emulate. Yelling at Shen Qingqiu for being a bad teacher and a petty, unpleasant bitch feels like it would be a childish tantrum now, when the man clearly has reflected on his past behavior. He hasn’t even chastised Shen Yuan for taking over his identity!
Shen Yuan has a lot of experience with flame wars and online battlegrounds, but it’s really difficult to fight against someone who’s obviously being the bigger person in a situation. He doesn’t quite have the face to do it now, in person.
“What are we going to do now?”
“I’m going to take my life back, obviously. AND my sword.” He sends a meaningful look at Xiu Ya, which has been ceaselessly rattling in its scabbard, as if it’s eager to get back to its actual master. “If Shen Yuan wishes to earn a sword of his own, he’s welcome to attend my peak as a disciple.”
Shen Yuan, who has started to untie Xia Ya from his belt, looks sharply up. “What?”
“I’m not repeating myself.”
“I’m too old to be a disciple!”
“That’s incorrect. We are immortals . The peak has plenty of adult disciples, many of them actively undergoing training and you are...” He regards Shen Yuan with narrowed eyes, as if he could see through the flesh he inhabits to gauge his age. “How old are you again?”
“Thirty-something? No more than thirty five.” He places the sword on the table, giving it one last longing look. It might not have ever fully accepted him as its master, but Xiu Ya has helped him out in a lot of deadly situations.
Shen Qingqiu finds his words really funny for some reason. He taps his own chest, green eyes alight with a poisonous glee. “I’m sixty two, or thereabouts, and considered remarkably young for my position.”
Shen Yuan chokes on his tea. Shen Qingqiu makes no move to help him while he bends over coughing, but he keeps a sharp eye out in case he has to intervene. “You don’t look… ah, right, immortality.”
Now that he thinks about it, he always focused on the children, so no wonder he forgot that cultivators, by and large, don’t age. “I’m not calling you Shizun.”
“You are welcome to go to another peak to study, but if you stay with me I can guarantee you a position as hallmaster down the line.” Shen Yuan gapes at Shen Qingqiu. He’s not sure which part of that sentence surprises him more; the tacit blessing that he can go study elsewhere - could he join the beast taming peak? Beasts and monsters have always been his passion - or that Shen Qingqiu would keep him . Seeing his confusion, the man goes on. “You have obviously noticed that I’m not very suited to teaching teenagers, but I was forced to do so all the same, because very few of my hallmasters are willing to put up with the brats. I can always use an educator I can throw to the wolves.”
Shen Yuan opens his mouth, then he remembers the kind of hellspawns that study on Qing Jing, and closes it without saying anything. “What of Binghe? And how are we explaining-” He gestures between the two of them, identical at a glance except for Shen Qingqiu’s newfound demonic nature. “- this?”
“The way Shang Qinghua explained the matter to his demon is suitably close enough to the truth that it should be a serviceable explanation for people in general: two literature gods exiled, one for accidentally writing a world into being and another for reasons unknown, tasked to change the fate of said world for the better. I assume you haven’t told your beast anything that would contradict this claim?”
“I didn’t know I was allowed to tell him anything!” System! System, what is this garbage?! Literature gods, really? Airplane bro, what were you thinking?!
Since the activation of Sandbox Mode, Users are allowed to divulge a version of their origins as long as the explanation can be considered diegetic to the setting.
Shen Yuan is speechless. If he was alone he would have reached out to shake the cheeky floating text box. It wouldn’t change anything, but it would make him feel better. System!! You should tell him important things like this!
“Hmph.” Shen Yuan glances at Shen Qingqiu and finds the man looking directly at the System’s text box with a look of amusement. “‘Diegetic’ is a big word. Seems even you are capable of learning something .”
System requests that User 003 stop his habitual belittling of its choice of words. System has been programmed with a user-friendly interface that promotes easy-to-understand, everyday parlance to minimize misunderstandings.
“Hey! I know what diegetic means!” Shen Yuan snaps. The System window immediately blinks out of existence, leaving nothing to hide his flustered face from Shen Qingqiu. “You can see the System?!”
“I had the pleasure of its company during the time I spent bodiless. The wretched thing thought it would be therapeutic ,-” Shen Qingqiu sneers. “- for me to read Master Airplane’s novels.”
Oh . Therapeutic is not the word Shen Yuan would have used for anything related to PIDW. Before he could organize his thoughts on the matter into something coherent, however, there’s a knock on the door and Mu Qingfang and Shang Qinghua step into the bamboo house.
“Shen-shixiong, Shen Yuan.”
“Qingqiu-shixiong, Cucumber bro! What have you done to your leg?”
Mu Qingfang is too professional to ask so bluntly, but Shen Yuan can see it on his face that he also wants to know. He snaps open a fan to hide his face when the healer kneels in front of him to inspect the shoddy splint around his ankle.
“I fell off a cliff while Binghe was too busy fighting a pack of six-eared lilac skytigers to catch me.”
“If I had any doubt that Shen Yuan is in need of training, now I am certain,” Shen Qingqiu says with a dismissive shake of his head. “What kind of cultivator falls off a cliff and breaks his leg?”
“I was fighting the tigers too. I’m not Liu Qingge to do aerial acrobatics! I would like to see you do better.”
“I don’t want to interrupt, but I must ask,” Shang Qinghua raises his voice, clearly trying to shut the argument down before it can get going. “When did this happen?”
“Three days ago. We decided to return right after Binghe dealt with the tigers, but my injury prevented us from traveling as quickly as we would otherwise.” It startled both of them that the beasts managed to overrun Binghe, so they decided to return to the sect where Shen Yuan could confer with the lord of the beast peak considering the unusual behavior. “We had run into them before, but Binghe had no trouble dispersing a much larger pack then. They are extremely dangerous demonic beasts, so we thought it best to warn the sect in case they tried to follow us to the human realm.”
Shang Qinghua and Shen Qingqiu exchange a look. “That as good as confirms it, then. Binghe has lost his protagonist halo.”
Shen Yuan startles, spilling some of his lukewarm tea onto Mu Qingfang’s shoulder, who’s still kneeling on the ground, channeling healing qi into his leg.
“Gods, my apologies Mu Qingfang!” He frantically looks around for something to dry the healer’s robe with, but he doesn’t know where anything is in the house now.
“Don’t worry about it, Shen-shizhi. This is not the worst thing to have spilled on me this week,” the healer reassures him, brushing a hand over his shoulder and drying the spill with a brief burst of qi.
Shen Yuan distantly registers that he has been demoted to shizhi - so they really are going to exclude him from the Qing generation, huh? - but he’s much more concerned about what Airplane said. Binghe losing his protagonist halo? Impossible!
But at the same time, it is undeniable that Binghe shouldn’t have struggled with the tigers and there were other small things too.
Fuck, he should have realized that something was wrong when Binghe burned breakfast this morning!
“Well, I’ve done all I can for Shen-shizhi’s leg,” Mu Qingfang says, dusting himself off and standing slowly. “Please try to stay off it and rest until it heals fully. With proper qi circulation it shouldn’t take more than a few days. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to return to my peak.”
“Thank you for your aid, Mu-shidi. I will fill you in over tea later.”
“I’ll be looking forward to it, shixiong.” He nods to them and leaves, no-nonsense and efficient as always.
Shen Yuan waits for the door to close behind the healer before he turns to the other two men in the room, wild-eyed and maybe panicking just a little. “What do you mean Binghe lost his protagonist halo?!”
“ Bro. ” Shang Qinghua ignores Shen Qingqiu’s glare and sits down next to him, sprawling inelegantly. Shen Yuan is a little hurt that Airplane hasn’t chosen his side, literally and figuratively. “There were dozens of messages in the System log. It can’t run three user accounts from Binghe because he’s only half heavenly demon or something, so it transferred the whole shebang back to Tianlang-jun.”
“Including the protagonist halo?”
“Yep! All back to Junshang.”
“We tested it as thoroughly as circumstances allowed,” Shen Qingqiu butts in, giving Shen Yuan an annoyed look over his cup of tea, as if daring him to argue. “We had a sparring match: Mobei-jun, Yue Qingyuan, Liu Qingge and myself against Tianlang-jun. We could barely touch him.”
“You know, shixiong, if you didn’t start trying to one-up each other, you might have actually made him break a sweat.”
“That’s very rich coming from shidi, who left all the fighting to his demon.”
“Of course I did! Mobei-jun has been dreaming about sparring with Tianlang-jun since he was a child, I couldn’t possibly ruin that by getting underfoot.”
“But.” They stop their bickering and look at Shen Yuan, startled by the hesitant voice. “But Binghe is the Junshang.”
Under any other circumstance, it would be amusing that Shang Qinghua’s sudden awkwardness seems to rub off on Shen Qingqiu too. The scum villain pulls out a fan - one Shen Yuan has never seen before; must be a new gift from Yue Qingyuan - to hide behind and he’s suddenly very invested in examining the lacquered surface of the new tea table.
“Listen, bro.” Shang Qinghua is rubbing the back of his neck and trying to plaster a smile on his face. It’s not really working. “Binghe is great and all, but he has been neglecting his duties as Emperor. The demon realm is a cutthroat mess, but it can’t function well if the person in charge doesn’t give a damn.” He looks apologetic. “The clans have been nagging Tianlang-jun for months to take back the throne and he finally had enough and accepted.”
“That can’t… He told me he was dealing with it!” He has tried so hard to impress on Binghe the importance of responsibility! They even agreed to hand Huan Hua back to the local cultivators because managing the demon realm and a sect at the same time was too much work, but Binghe has been very insistent that he had the demon realm well in hand.
“Yeah, well, I mean. He delegates everything to us, if you consider that ‘dealing with it’. My king had to go make up with his uncle and hand back direct control of Northern affairs to him, because Binghe pushed the entire Southern management on him and Sha Hualing after an incident with anti-human sentiments in court and she can’t be trusted to handle finances...”
Shang Qinghua keeps listing all the things Mobei-jun is supposedly in charge of right now, but Shen Yuan’s mind has caught on one detail and turned the rest of the rant into noise.
“Mobei-jun has made up with his uncle? When did that happen?!”
“Last winter? Some of the food requisition petitions got lost when we were trying to merge the two vastly different management structures of the North and the South. Linguang-jun quietly stepped in and handled it, so the settlements that needed food the most wouldn’t starve. They had a big conversation like mature adults and sorted out their conflict.” Shang Qinghua shrugs. “Luo Binghe should know about it, if he ever reads his correspondence. There was a huge party when Linguang-jun was named Northern Regent. I thought you’d be interested in a demon festival, so I asked them to send invitations to both of you.”
Shen Yuan hasn’t known about the party or Linguang-jun or any of this . If he did, he would have loved to go! Did Binghe forget or did he withhold this information deliberately? Has he been keeping other things from him? Why? Why would his Binghe…?
A cup of tea appears in front of him, held in a clawed hand. When Shen Yuan looks up, he finds himself pinned by Shen Qingqiu’s glare. “Enough with the self-pity! We will-”
He doesn’t get to hear what Shen Qingqiu plans to do, because the door of the bamboo house is slammed open by a frantic Luo Binghe. “Shizun!”
Shen Yuan doesn’t see Shen Qingqiu move, but Xiu Ya jumps from its scabbard to hover threateningly between them.
Binghe’s gaze keeps bouncing between the two men sharing the same face, then at the sword, then back at the Shens.
“Shizun?”
“Little beast,” Shen Qingqiu bares his teeth in a snarl and puts the cup down with enough force that the porcelain cracks, so Shen Yuan quickly rises to stand between him and Luo Binghe. The last thing they need is two heavenly demons getting into a territorial brawl in the middle of the sect.
“Shen Qingqiu, enough. Let me talk to him.”
Shen Qingqiu narrows his eyes and acquiesces with a tight nod, but the sword stays hovering in the air, tip pointed threateningly towards Luo Binghe.
Luo Binghe, whose expression has closed off into a mask of cool suspicion.
“Binghe. Husband ,” he tries, stepping forward, but freezes in place when Binghe steps back. “Husband, please. Hear me out.”
“If he’s Shen Qingqiu,” Binghe says, his eyes turning to the newly demonified Shen Qingqiu for a moment before they return to watch Shen Yuan with intense scrutiny. “Then who are you, claiming to be this one’s husband?”
Shen Yuan wilts under the intensity of his glare, but rallies himself, trying hard to find the words that could put his clearly distressed husband at ease. “I wanted to tell you for a long time, but I didn’t know how. I thought I was not allowed, under threat of death.” He sends a brief glance at Shang Qinghua, who at least manages to look guilty for a moment. “This one is called Shen Yuan. I replaced Shen Qingqiu when- Binghe?!”
With an immortal’s senses, it’s easy to see when Luo Binghe’s eyes flash red and he lunges at Shen Yuan as soon as he utters the word ‘replaced’, but he has extensively trained himself not to flinch from his husband, so despite seeing the danger, his limbs refuse to move. Shang Qinghua is the one who saves him from being gutted or strangled on the spot by bodily pulling him out of the way with unexpected strength.
Xiu Ya flashes with radiant qi, but Shen Qingqiu doesn’t have a good enough grasp on his changed power to hold up against a once-protagonist and the sword is swatted out of the way. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t have a clear path to grapple Binghe, not with Shen Yuan and Shang Qinghua still mostly in the way, which leaves Shen Yuan staring up at his husband, watching as his death approaches with tears of distress and rage running down his handsome face. A detached, ridiculous part of him internally berates Binghe for being a crybaby even now.
The temperature drops so suddenly that Shen Yuan’s skin tingles before he registers the cold. In a blink of an eye Binghe’s outstretched arms are gone , swallowed by twin flashes of darkness, his blood freezing before it even hits the floor. Luo Binghe stops in his tracks, shocked, and it’s enough time for Shen Qingqiu to finally get past Shen Yuan and shove the other heavenly demon against the wall with a deep growl.
Despite Shen Qingqiu being the one holding him down, Luo Binghe ignores him and turns to the newcomer. “Traitor! What do you think you are doing?!”
Mobei-jun steps out of his portal with casual confidence and nods to the cultivators before he shifts his attention to his (former?) superior. “Luo Binghe left the meeting with Junshang and Sect Leader Yue in an unstable frame of mind. This king came to ascertain that he didn’t do irreparable harm to his beloved in a moment of insanity.”
“What beloved?! That one is not my husband! He just admitted to replacing-!”
Mobei-jun flares his qi to oppressive levels, an advanced party trick that sends frost crawling over the walls and shuts Binghe up mid-sentence.
“Silence! Luo Binghe will listen or he will be removed from the mountain.”
Satisfied that the younger demon has been sufficiently cowed, Mobei-jun takes a seat by the table, pulling a teacup out from a small portal and pouring himself a cup of tea, casual as you please. Shang Qinghua helps Shen Yuan back to his previous seat too, then sits down next to Mobei-jun. Shen Qingqiu remains standing, holding Luo Binghe back, just in case.
The discussion that follows is unpleasant beyond words. Shen Yuan allows Shang Qinghua to do most of the talking; he’s a good storyteller and he made up a serviceable story about their origins. Literature gods, who unwittingly created (Shang Qinghua) and meddled with (Shen Yuan) a new world and were exiled to it as punishment, under the watchful eye of a near-omnipotent, divine overseer (the System). Shang Qinghua even had an explanation for the protagonist halo: Binghe was a central part of the tribulations they had to overcome, so for the duration of their trials he was granted an invincible aura of good luck.
Binghe, of course, has doubts about their divinity (smoothly overcome by Shang Qinghua inelegantly infodumping about Binghe’s pre-sect life) and the protagonist halo (begrudgingly accepted when Mobei-jun reminds him of their former observation that portals couldn’t form within a certain distance from Binghe’s body, something that’s clearly not true anymore).
Shen Yuan busies himself with his tea, eyes downcast, his heart still beating wildly after Luo Binghe’s unexpectedly severe reaction, until Binghe gets on his knees in front of him and starts begging for his attention. “Shen Yuan - Yuan-ge? - Husband. Husband , please forgive this one.”
He’s crying again, now that Mobei-jun has allowed the temperature to rise above freezing, and Shen Yuan has always been weak to Binghe’s tears. How could he not forgive him when he’s pleading so sweetly?
“Have you decided what you plan to do next?”
Shen Yuan, who has spaced out when Mobei-jun led Binghe out for some much needed ‘reassembly’, snaps back to the present. “I’m not sure yet. We have so many options now that I don’t have to be the Qing Jing peak lord and I want to discuss it with Binghe first.”
Shen Qingqiu makes a grimace of disgust. “Do what you wish, but not here. I won’t stand for the beast to sully my peak with his presence.”
“That reminds me, bro! I got you two a very nice house on An Ding until you decide where you want to go. Big kitchen, private back garden, plenty of room for bedroom and study. It’s usually reserved for couples who are planning children, but with the recent uproar between the realms nobody really wants to try for a family just yet.”
Shen Yuan blushes at the mention of children - he knows there are ways to make it happen, so he distracts Binghe every time he brings it up because he doesn’t feel ready for them yet - but he’s honestly touched by his friend’s care.
“Thank you, Airplane. That’s… thank you.” Shen Qingqiu is glaring at him, making the atmosphere more and more awkward by the moment, so he slips the qiankun pouches with their furniture into his sleeve and is about to say his goodbyes when Shen Qingqiu clears his throat.
“Before you leave, we have prepared something for you.” He places something on the table, not meeting Shen Yuan’s eyes. “Zhangmen-shixiong insisted and after seeing the beast’s reaction, I agree that it is necessary.”
Shen Yuan picks it up carefully; a bracelet, a little gaudy from the multicolored beads, but as he lifts it up to take a closer look at it in the light he realizes what this is. Each colored bead is a token from a friend - he can feel the familiar qi of his (former?) martial siblings, the unmistakably icy touch of Mobei-jun, the low-banked fire of Tianlang-jun and fresh wood that has to be Shen Qingqiu. When worn, the bracelet would be invisible and intangible to anyone except him and it can serve as a token of protection or a way to call for help in an emergency.
He slips it onto his wrist with a smile. It’s so typical of Yue Qingyuan to insist on something so precious, despite the years Shen Yuan spent impersonating his best friend.
…Wait a moment.
“Shen Qingqiu!” He startles the scum villain by lunging over the table to grab him by the robes. “You have to forgive Yue Qingyuan! He has-”
“He came back, yes, I know.” Momentum and a missed step thanks to his still very much injured ankle carries Shen Yuan forward, straight into Shen Qingqiu’s arms. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t drop him, but his expression tells Shen Yuan that he really wants to. “Our misunderstanding has been cleared up. Apparently lifeless stone is much easier to confess to than I am.”
“Oh. Good, that’s good that you have reconciled…” Shen Qingqiu places the now thoroughly embarrassed Shen Yuan back on his feet.
“You are not invited to my wedding.”
“That’s fair I su-” Shen Yuan’s thoughts screech to a halt. “Wait. Wedding?! ”
Shang Qinghua, the personified embodiment of hubris, bursts out laughing at his friend’s shock. It’s the last straw and both transmigrators get chased out of the house with extreme prejudice.
Much later, once the sun has already set, Shen Yuan is sitting in his new house, idly scrolling through the System’s journal and his - by now depressingly extensive - collection of Shen Qingqiu’s memories when Luo Binghe slinks in. He’s slouching a little, trying to make himself look smaller, like a chastised puppy.
“Binghe!” He dismisses the System and rushes to his husband, as swiftly as his injured leg allows. “Come here, sit down. How are you?”
“The cuts itch, but my arms have reattached fine,” Binghe says, flexing his fingers and going easily when Shen Yuan pulls him down to sit on the couch. His pout fades a little when Shen Yuan sits down right next to him, putting no distance between them despite Binghe’s earlier behavior.
“That’s a relief, but that’s not what I’m asking.”
Binghe is silent for a very long time and when he finally speaks, he sounds small and uncertain.
“I don’t know.”
Shen Yuan strokes his hair and waits patiently for him to order his thoughts.
“I haven’t really been scared of a demon - of anyone - since the Abyss. Even against the few who could match me - Yue-shibo and Tianlang-jun - I had ways to fight back because they had predictable weaknesses.” Yue Qingyuan’s cursed sword, Tianlang-jun’s decaying mushroom body; both clear limitations the protagonist could work around.
Alas, Binghe isn’t the protagonist anymore.
“But now I’m not as fast as Liu-shishu. My strength pales in comparison to Yue-shibo or my father. Mobei-jun can slice me into ribbons with the wave of a hand.” He clenches his hands into fists. “Shizun, how am I supposed to protect you like this?”
Ah. Well, it’s not unexpected that Binghe would be unhappy with the change in his relative power level, but the reasoning surprises Shen Yuan a little. Honestly, after being married for almost two years now, he really shouldn’t be surprised anymore.
Well, time for a minor distraction.
“Shixiong.” He clears his throat and averts his eyes, face coloring at Binghe’s confused glance. “I’m not the peak lord anymore, so I can’t be shizun. But I can be your shixiong.”
A stormy expression passes over Binghe’s face and Shen Yuan shamelessly throws himself into his lap to keep him sitting. “Let me go! Shen Qingqiu is still not used to his demon powers, I felt it. I can still kill him again and let you get the position back.”
“Oh no you don’t! I don’t want to be peak lord! I’m not suited for the position. I have no idea how I managed to not fuck it up completely in the first place. And Yue Qingyuan and Liu Qingge will compete over who can kill you in the slowest, most agonizing way known to man and then Mobei-jun will scatter your remains over the lands so nothing can ever resurrect you if you so much as get a scratch on Shen Qingqiu. I can’t lose you!”
Binghe settles down, but he’s still obviously fuming.
“ That man doesn’t deserve the position. He’s a cruel, honorless scum who-!”
Shen Yuan holds up a hand, signaling Binghe to wait and listen. He spent most of the day talking to people and thinking. He didn’t quite have the time to shake his thoughts into something eloquent or profound, but they will have to do for now.
“Before today I tried not to think about Shen Qingqiu. I have inherited some of his memories with his body, but I buried them as deep as I could. To remember that I stole somebody’s life and identity, however unintentionally… yeah, I didn’t want to think about any of that. But now he’s here again and I can’t keep running from it, so I took some time to try and come to terms with my feelings about him.” He takes a deep, fortifying breath. “He hurt you for something that wasn’t your fault and there’s no excuse for that, but… do you remember the months following Xin Mo?”
Binghe averts his eyes in shame, but he nods. “The sword wasn’t there anymore to feed my heart demons, but they kept growing anyway.”
“Just so. For some months - ah, it was closer to a whole year actually -, you struggled with your worst impulses. You lashed out in jealousy at Yue Qingyuan and Liu Qingge, smothered me in possessiveness, had all those territorial spats with Mobei that still make Shang Qinghua flinch when he remembers them - you hurt me and all of our friends, even when you didn’t really want to.”
“Husband promised not to bring that up anymore after I started taking Mu-shishu’s tonic and doing the special meditation!”
Shen Yuan shakes his head indulgently at Binghe’s pout. “I know, but it’s relevant. Shen Qingqiu, when you came to the sect, was in a similar state. He had no Xin Mo, but he had a very hard life - harder than even yours, Binghe - that made his heart demons grow so much that he could no longer restrain them. Except he didn’t have a doting husband to blackmail him into going to Mu Qingfang. He didn’t know how to ask for help - he didn’t know he was allowed to.” Binghe made a doubtful face when Shen Yuan said Shen Jiu had a harder life than him, but now his eyes slowly light up in understanding. “The Shen Qingqiu you met in your first years here was the worst version of him, completely in the grasp of his heart demons, and I’m sure he regrets it, even if he’d never admit to it.” A small lie, for Binghe’s peace of mind, and one that he hopefully won’t be able to verify. “Now he has support, people who will never let him fall that low ever again, and I think he deserves a second chance to show us what he can be at his best.”
Binghe shakes his head like a stubborn puppy.
“I can’t forgive him shiz- shixiong. I can’t.”
“Bah, who’s talking about forgiveness? I don’t think he wants to be forgiven at any rate.” Based on what Airplane told him about Shen Jiu, the man probably doesn’t think he deserves any forgiveness, but he has enough awareness not to tell Binghe that. “Just let him be. Ignore him like you ignore Yue Qingyuan or Liu Qingge. I’m sure he will happily pretend you don’t exist if you do the same.”
Binghe buries his face in Shen Yuan’s shoulder and mumbles something impossible to understand. Shen Yuan doesn’t press him, slowly petting his head instead until Luo Binghe calms down a little. “Shang Qinghua said he’s trying to poach you for his peak.”
Dammit Airplane…
“‘Poach’ is not the right word for it. He said he’ll keep me around as a hallmaster if I become his disciple. The scholars’ peak doesn’t have a lot of teachers who know how to do anything with kids and it’s one of those things I actually have training in.” Seeing Binghe’s growing distress he very quickly adds “But I was thinking about joining the beast teaming peak instead, if the peak lord will have me. Or we could go traveling like before, but I don’t have a sword anymore, so…” He shrugs. It would be more dangerous without the protagonist halo, but at the same time the chances of stumbling into random wifeplots is much, much lower.
Now that he thinks about it, that will be a relief. He couldn’t go two steps without running into some kind of danger before, but for every dozen or so Events he had to deal with, Shang Qinghua only had one or two. It might be for the best if they wait a little before they go wandering around, just to make sure the effects of the protagonist halo have worn off for sure, but he’s looking forward to going on field trips without guaranteed danger in the future.
“Shixiong wants to stay in the sect?” Binghe asks quietly. The question gives Shen Yuan pause.
“Yes. I think I want to stay.” The people in the sect have been his friends and support for the last decade. Going off into the world with no plan and no guidance feels… daunting. “At least until I can build myself up again - as Shen Yuan, rather than Shen Qingqiu.” Even with all the changes and the lack of OOC lock, he never stopped pretending. Not completely. He will need to learn how to be himself again.
Luo Binghe still looks sour, but he also appears to be deep in thought. “The master of the culinary peak asked me if I wanted to stay for a few workshops. If shi- if Shen Yuan wants to stay, I will ask him if he can take me as a permanent disciple.”
Shen Yuan gives him an encouraging kiss. That’s an excellent plan, actually! Binghe’s cooking skills are legendary, with or without the protagonist halo, and he is still able to channel the spiritual energy required for certain special dishes. And the culinary peak doesn’t have a succeeding disciple yet, so all Binghe needs is the chance to show how brilliant and talented he is and then-
But no, it would not do to get ahead of himself.
“I think you are going to be happier there than you were as Junshang,” Shen Yuan says and he means it. “I know this is a big change, but look at what we have ahead of us: no more stifling responsibilities, a home just for the two of us and easy access to the most well-stocked pantry in the whole Jianghu. ”
Binghe still seems skeptical, but the prospect of spending all his time with Shen Yuan without interruptions from the demon court or Shen Qingqiu’s peak lord responsibilities clearly holds some appeal. “We can wait and see how this new status quo shakes out,” he concedes. “But if shixiong finds himself unhappy or bullied, I will fight for his happiness, even if I have to tear down the whole sect to see it happen. I might not be the most powerful anymore, but I am still smarter than them.”
“I’m sure you will.” He will try, definitely. Shen Yuan has doubts that he would have any success without the light of the protagonist halo impacting the others’ judgment. He loves his husband a lot, but sometimes it's really obvious that Airplane wrote his novel on too much caffeine and not enough sleep. Hard to write a smart protagonist under those circumstances, and while most people only really suffer from temporary insanity when under the effect of the protagonist halo, Binghe is just... like that. Maybe that too will get better now that Tianlang-jun is the protagonist. Still, if the thought brings Binghe peace, then he’s not going to contradict him, not unless he starts to genuinely plan something against the sect. “I don’t want to think about them any more tonight. Shang Qinghua promised that the kitchen would live up to the expectations of even the most discerning chef. Husband, will you make me dinner?”
The distraction works like a charm, Luo Binghe eager to cook for Shen Yuan after having made do with cold rations and campfire fare during their wanderings.
This is fine, Shen Yuan thinks when Binghe delights at the new kitchen, much bigger and better furnished than the small, awkward kitchenette of the bamboo house.
We can make the best of this, when he unpacks all their knickknacks from the qiankun pouches, running his fingers over the covers of the limited bestiaries copied in Shen Qingqiu’s meticulous characters.
No more secrets, when Binghe pins him to the luxurious bed, his new-old name sounding like a prayer on his husband’s lips.
It’s about time we finally got our ‘happy end’.