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Chapter Text

Shen Qingqiu was familiar with Luo Binghe's "outwardly friendly but inwardly plotting revenge" act. He'd read about it in PIDW—and seen disciple Binghe direct it at Liu Qingge—enough times that it was unmistakable. Luo Binghe's expression would be flawless, of course, as would his words, but there'd be a telltale hateful twinkle in his eyes that guaranteed his victim would die a painful death. Or, in Liu Qingge's case, would be served a lukewarm cup of tea.

This was not that act.

"I—" Shen Qingqiu started, then stopped. He opened his mouth, then shut it again.

It was too late for him to turn back. He was already at the top of the brothel stairs, with Gongyi Xiao behind him, blocking his only escape route. Not that he could escape anyway, because Binghe had already seen him, because Binghe was here—out of the Abyss early and ordering around the Huan Hua disciples with the ease of one born to rule.

And honestly, what bullshit was this? Shen Qingqiu was supposed to have two more years to prepare for this! The plant bodies weren't ready! He wasn't ready! 

Not that it mattered, apparently, because when Luo Binghe's dark, glittering eyes met his—causing Shen Qingqiu's breath to catch and his heart to seize—he only gave Shen Qingqiu a bored, cursory once-over before moving on to Gongyi Xiao.

"We've found the sower, shixiong," Binghe said. "Thank you for bringing assistance, but I won't presume to waste any more of this senior's time."

The smile he gave Shen Qingqiu was…polite. Respectful.

Disinterested.

Shen Qingqiu stared at him, speechless. He'd been prepared for anger, or hate—it was no less than what he deserved—but this?

What was this, even?

"...Binghe?" he found himself saying, and even to his own ears his voice sounded horribly uncertain. 

At the familiar use of his name, Binghe's eyes sharpened, snapping back to look at Shen Qingqiu again, this time with suspicion.

Suspicion, but not recognition. Shen Qingqiu stared back, dumbfounded. 

Something had gone terribly, terribly wrong.

[Hello]: chimed a friendly, Google Translate voice. [System activation successful. Plot deviation detected. Calculating new storyline…] 

A pixelated hourglass appeared.

Shen Qingqiu had never been happy to hear the System, but now he grasped at it like a drowning man clutching at a life preserver. System, what's going on? he thought furiously. What's wrong with Binghe?

The System was silent for a moment as the pixelated hourglass turned over, and then turned over again. Then, with a bing: [Alternate storyline engaged! New Quest Available: A Second Chance to Make a Good First Impression. Accept?: Yes/No] 

If the System had been blessed with a neck, Shen Qingqiu would have throttled it. I didn't ask for a quest, I asked what was wrong with him! Why does he look like he doesn't remember me? Is he sick? Is he cursed?

[To see the quest details, the User must first accept the quest.]

Shen Qingqiu mentally jabbed the accept button. 

[Quest goal: Discover what is wrong with Luo Binghe. Wishing the User luck!]

Shen Qingqiu wanted to scream.

Normally the quest name would give him hope. A chance to make a new first impression was a positive thing, right? The original goods hadn't exactly done a great job in that regard, and if Binghe didn't remember how they'd parted…well. That would probably be for the best. 

But the cold way Binghe was eyeing him filled him with dread.

Gongyi Xiao cleared his throat awkwardly into the silence, then stepped around Shen Qingqiu onto the landing of the second floor. "This is Senior Shen," he said to Binghe, shooting Shen Qingqiu a tense look. "He's from Cang Qiong Mountain's Qing Jing Peak. He's your—"

"Former Shizun," Binghe finished for him, and he looked curious now—but it was a cool curiosity, the sort you'd see in a scientist studying a specimen they were about to dissect. "I see. This disciple apologizes for not greeting you properly, Senior Shen, but circumstances conspired against it. I've lost my memories, and didn't recognize you."

Shen Qingqiu had already figured as much, given the lack of bloodcurdling hatred. "Is that so," he said weakly.

Binghe nodded. "Don't worry, though," he said, and there was that sweet yet threatening smile. "Senior Shen's reputation precedes him. I might not remember you myself, but I've heard all about you."

It didn't take long for Binghe and the gaggle of Huan Hua disciples to fill Shen Qingqiu in on the details, mostly because there were nowhere near enough details. About six months ago, Binghe had been found near the borderlands, unconscious. He'd had so many injuries that, according to the female disciple clinging to Binghe's arm and glaring daggers at Shen Qingqiu, "It had taken Huan Hua's best healers three days and three nights to bring him back from the edge of death."

"This humble disciple is grateful for Huan Hua's generous aid," Binghe said, his face the perfect picture of humble gratitude. "When I woke, I had no memory of how I got there, or of who I'd been before. If it hadn't been for others recognizing me from my performance at the Immortal Alliance Conference, I wouldn't have known my own name."

Had Binghe's mind been injured when he left the Abyss? Nothing like this had happened to Binghe in PIDW, but in the original story he'd been in the Abyss for much longer! Perhaps in his rush, he'd made a mistake?

But that didn't explain where Xin Mo was. If Binghe had truly been injured so badly, he wouldn't have been able to hide the cursed sword or his demonic heritage from his would-be rescuers. He couldn't be faking his amnesia, either—not only had his lack of reaction at seeing Shen Qingqiu been too genuine, but the System had all but confirmed that his affliction was real.

It just didn't make sense. 

"Luo-shidi is so talented! He's the rising star of our Palace! Who else could have achieved so much, so fast, and without any memories?" one of the disciples said, gazing up at Binghe with starry eyes. 

It was clear that Binghe, memories or no memories, had already managed to get Huan Hua under his thumb. The disciples who weren't staring at him in wonder were glaring suspiciously at Shen Qingqiu, some even going so far as to put their hands on the hilts of their swords. 

As a master cultivator, it was beneath Shen Qingqiu to respond to such minor threats, and so he pretended he didn't see them. Instead, he focused his attention on Binghe, who— 

—Was already staring back at him, those dark, glittering eyes tracking Shen Qingqiu's every reaction. 

Shen Qingqiu felt his hairs stand on end. Just because Binghe didn't have his memories didn't mean he wasn't dangerous. Still…

"Perhaps Luo Binghe should accompany this master to see Mu Qingfang," Shen Qingqiu said. "He could evaluate you, and attempt to find what caused this problem."

It was undoubtedly in Shen Qingqiu's best interests that Luo Binghe not regain his memories. The sooner Binghe remembered that Shen Qingqiu had betrayed him, the sooner Shen Qingqiu would end up as a human stick. But Luo Binghe was the protagonist! He'd eventually recover his memories, and if Shen Qingqiu could provide some help to him now, perhaps he could mitigate Binghe's eventual revenge—or even divert it entirely! Which might be needed, since the plant bodies were definitely not finished growing yet.

Besides, despite the danger he posed, Binghe without Xin Mo or his demonic heritage was strangely vulnerable. Abandoning him to suffer in the Abyss for years had been bad enough, and Shen Qingqiu had known he'd survive that. But leaving him like this? Defenseless, and with no plot-guaranteed outcome?

Shen Qingqiu swallowed, his throat suddenly tight. It didn't bear thinking about.

The Huan Hua disciples only scowled harder at Shen Qingqiu's offer of help.

"Are you suggesting our healers are incompetent?" one of them asked. The others chimed in, outraged, until Luo Binghe raised his hand, silencing the group. 

"Qian Cao Peak is renowned for its healing arts," Luo Binghe said. He eyed Shen Qingqiu thoughtfully. "I'd be remiss not to take advantage of an opportunity to consult its Peak Lord. Thanking Senior Shen for the offer. Please, lead the way." He smiled as he said it, and it was a perfect smile, all dimples and friendly eyes, and a world apart from the toothy grin that Shen Qingqiu had gotten used to during their years together in the bamboo house.

Shen Qingqiu nodded stiffly and turned to go. He heard Gongyi Xiao start to follow him, then—

"I'll leave the investigation in your capable hands, Gongyi-shixiong," Binghe said firmly. 

"...Of course," said Gongyi Xiao, his voice subdued. He might be the head disciple, but he'd been all but ordered to remain behind and do clean up. It was clear who was calling the shots at Huan Hua.

Shen Qingqiu didn't really want to be stuck alone with Luo Binghe, not when he was smiling at Shen Qingqiu like he was a stranger (because of course he was, because to him, Shen Qingqiu was a stranger right now, and why did that feel worse than being an enemy?). But what could he do? He'd been the one to invite Binghe in the first place! And so he nodded a goodbye at Gongyi Xiao, fan over his mouth to hide his unsettled frown, and walked back out of the building.

Binghe walked calmly beside him through the near-empty streets, and even without his memories, Binghe was still clearly Binghe: he held himself the same way, and had the same gait, and the same piercing eyes and fluffy hair. But that hair (which had always been so wild and free) was now pulled back in a tight ponytail. His expression was stiffer, too, and his movements more careful. He was guarded, though not noticeably so, not unless a person had lived with him for years and had seen him truly at ease.

There were physical differences as well. Binghe was taller now, enough so that Shen Qingqiu could forget about casually patting him on the head. He'd have to stretch his arm up to do that now, not that he would dare to! The soft baby fat on Binghe's face was gone, replaced by a chiseled jawline and cheekbones that would make a c-drama star weep with envy. He wasn't a kid anymore; he was the badass protagonist who would easily woo hundreds of women, and it showed.

The only element detracting from Binghe's appearance was his robes. They were bright Huan Hua yellow, with enough embroidery and ornamentation that, if they'd been done with more skill and restraint—and in a different color palette—they could have passed as something Binghe might have worn as an emperor. It was gaudy, and frankly a bit ridiculous, and Shen Qingqiu couldn't help but wonder if whatever had robbed Binghe of his memories had also taken his sense of taste.

Not that he looked bad in the robes. Shen Qingqiu wasn't sure Binghe was even capable of looking bad in anything, not with shoulders that wide, and a waist that small, and—

"Does Senior Shen like what he sees?"

Binghe's face was unreadable when Shen Qingqiu looked up—and he did have to look up —to meet his eyes, but his voice carried a hint of a threat in it that Shen Qingqiu wasn't used to hearing.

Shen Qingqiu hadn't been doing anything wrong, but something about the way Binghe was looking at him made him feel vaguely guilty. He felt his cheeks burn, and he looked away, raising his fan a bit higher to cover his blush. "This Master is just concerned for Luo Binghe's health. Did any other symptoms or injuries accompany your amnesia?"

There were plenty of poisons and artifacts in PIDW that could cause memory loss. Most notably, the flower from the Heart's Burden Tree had been eaten by Ning Yingying, erasing her memories and allowing Binghe the chance to win her love for a second time. And Shen Qingqiu, sucker that he was, had been excited to read about it! He'd wondered what the amnesia might reveal, both about Ning Yingying and about Binghe. Would Ning Yingying be happier without the burden of the harem on her formerly-carefree shoulders? Would she even be able to fall in love with a man who was so much darker and crueler than the one she'd originally married? What would it mean for Binghe and his other wives if she couldn't?

But Airplane had simply copy/pasted in parts of their previous heart-to-hearts, and then, when she inevitably fell for him, used papapa to return her memories and get right back to the status quo.

Peerless Cucumber had left a comment on the ending that had almost rivaled the length of the final chapter, and Airplane's reply of, "lol, chill bro," had not calmed him down.

The other amnesia plot devices had similarly been used to drive women into Binghe's arms. But if this was a wife-plot, then where was the wife?

"As I mentioned before, I was heavily injured when I was found," Binghe said. "I had several broken bones, severe head wounds, and lacerations across my chest and arms, all of which the Huan Hua doctors healed before I woke up. I'm quite well now, but thank you for your concern."

He said it with a sense of finality, as if drawing the conversation to a close, but—

"What cures have you tried?" If it had been the Heart's Burden Flower—or a majority of the potential culprits—then there was one sure-fire cure. Ruling it out would narrow things down significantly.

"I'd be happy to give Peak Lord Mu the details of my medications," Binghe said.

That was fine and all, and probably a good idea to make sure Mu Qingfang didn't prescribe him anything that conflicted with what the Huan Hua doctors might currently be giving him, but…

"I've heard dual-cultivation is quite effective at helping such things," Shen Qingqiu said, and he wasn't embarrassed about bringing it up, because this was a perfectly normal medical practice in this world and there was no reason for him to feel awkward about it. If his ears were burning a bit, that couldn't be helped. "Has Luo Binghe tried it yet?"

Binghe was silent for a long moment. Shen Qingqiu risked a glance over at him, only to find him already looking in Shen Qingqiu's direction, his eyes narrowed. 

"That's none of Senior Shen's concern," Binghe said, his voice carefully neutral.

"Ah, my apologies." It was only natural he wouldn't want to share details like that with a stranger! But if he hadn't, the odds were good that it would work, and there had been plenty of pretty girls hanging onto his arm when Shen Qingqiu had walked in on his group at the brothel. "Only, Binghe is young and handsome, and has many admirers. If you haven't already, perhaps it's worth attempting?"

Binghe's face tightened almost imperceptibly. "...And I suppose Senior Shen has a volunteer in mind?"

"What? No, no, but surely Binghe isn't short on willing partners!" 

Shen Qingqiu laughed awkwardly. Binghe did not join in.

They walked the rest of the way to the weapons shop in silence.

Shen Qingqiu had hoped that things with Binghe would become, if not easy, then at least a bit less awkward when he had his martial brothers there to help carry the conversation.

Unfortunately for him, one of those martial brothers was Liu Qingge.  

"He's alive?" Liu Qingge asked, blinking at Binghe in surprise. "Wait, does this mean you'll stop moping?"

Luo Binghe gave Shen Qingqiu another suspicious look, and Shen Qingqiu felt his face flush. "Moping? Who was moping!"

"Grieving, then."

That was even worse! And now Binghe had that calculating look in his eyes that Shen Qingqiu knew meant trouble. 

"I wasn't grieving! I was just…taking time to recover from the ordeal."

Liu Qingge looked skeptical. "Your head disciple said you still weren't eating last week."

Ming Fan was such a snitch. "I haven't been hungry."

"For three years?" asked Binghe, his eyebrow raised. 

This was getting out of control—and luckily, Mu Qingfang seemed to think so, too. He cleared his throat, and, when he had everyone's attention, smiled warmly at Binghe.

"I'm grateful Luo-shizhi is alive," Mu Qingfang said. "But…how?"

"I'd like to know that as well," said Liu Qingge, crossing his arms.

It didn't take long to get Mu Qingfang and Liu Qingge caught up with Binghe's memory loss and time at Huan Hua Palace. Binghe filled them in quickly and efficiently, only stopping to answer questions Mu Qingfang asked along the way. 

"And how about your cultivation?" Mu Qingfang asked. "Did your memory loss affect your ability to wield a sword? Or control your qi?"

"Not at all."

Mu Qingfang scribbled down a note. "And may I examine your cultivation?"

Binghe held out his wrist in answer, and Mu Qingfang began to take his pulse with one hand, still jotting down information with the other. "What cures have you tried?"

The list of medicines Binghe rattled off was beyond Shen Qingqiu's comprehension, but seemed to mean something to Mu Qingfang. His face grew more and more troubled as he listened.

He wasn't the only one that looked upset. Liu Qingge, who'd been pacing during Mu Qingfang's questioning, looked like he was ready to punch someone. Which, to be fair, was not all that different from his normal expression, but Shen Qingqiu had gotten to know him well enough to tell that he was genuinely angry about something.

"And what about strange artifacts?" Mu Qingfang asked. "Have you picked up any unusual pieces of jewelry, or ancient swords?"

Binghe shook his head. "I haven't—"

"Why didn't you come back?" Liu Qingge burst out. "You were alive for years before losing your memory, so why didn't you come back to Qing Jing Peak?" 

"...I have to admit, I was wondering that as well," Mu Qingfang said. "Does Luo Binghe remember why he kept his distance?"

"I don't," Binghe said.

Shen Qingqiu's fingers tightened involuntarily around his fan, and Binghe's eyes flicked to him.

"But what about since coming to Huan Hua? You were told where you'd come from, but you still didn't return. What's your excuse?" Liu Qingge demanded, glaring at Binghe as if he’d committed some great betrayal.

Binghe stared coolly back. "I'm content where I am. Why should I leave?"

"Why should you—!" Liu Qingge surged forward, only stopped by Mu Qingfang's hand on his shoulder. "Unfilial! Do you know how much your Shizun has been mourning you?"

"Liu-shidi," Shen Qingqiu protested. "Really, I'm fine—"

"He's been inconsolable!"

"Liu-shidi!"

"Has he?" Binghe said quietly.

"He's been wasting away, calling out your name like he's lost his soul, and the whole time you've been here—"

"Enough!" Shen Qingqiu didn't have the face for this! "Let's focus on curing Binghe's ailment. Questions can wait until he has answers."

Binghe's eyes were frighteningly unreadable as he considered Shen Qingqiu, but after a moment he nodded in agreement. "I'll answer every question you have…when I can answer any at all," he agreed.

But nothing Mu Qingfang tested even hinted at the cause of Binghe's memory problem, and the couple of pills Mu Qingfang had that Huan Hua hadn't already tried did nothing when Binghe swallowed them.

"I'm afraid I've wasted your time," Binghe said, bowing politely, and the disappointment on his face seemed genuine. "Thanking Healer Mu for his kindness and hard work, but there are sowers loose in the city that I need to attend to."

"That we need to attend to," Liu Qingge said.

"Of course. It would be an honor to fight beside Bai Zhan's War God," Binghe said smoothly, and Liu Qingge paused, frowning.

"Why are you being nice?" he asked.

 Binghe blinked. "I'm always nice," he said.

"No," said Liu Qingge. "You're not."

The original Luo Binghe in PIDW had been nice—or at least, he'd pretended to be in the beginning. It had been a necessity for him. His early life post-Abyss was all politicking and subterfuge, and he'd had to charm and manipulate his way to the top in order to survive. This world's Binghe, on the other hand, had been secure in his position at Shen Qingqiu's side. He hadn't bothered with any of those masks, often shooting the other Peak Lords and disciples sour faces and grumbling if they so much as took up too much of his Shizun's time.

It seemed that, without his memories and on uneven footing, Binghe had retreated behind the diplomatic facade that his PIDW counterpart had relied on so heavily.

"My apologies, Senior Liu," Binghe said, and he bowed again. "My past self apparently has a lot to answer for. I'll do my best to—"

"Stop that. It's weird," Liu Qingge said.

Binghe hesitated, smile faltering for a second. "Weird? I—"

But Liu Qingge had already drawn his sword and headed out the door, presumably to find some sowers. 

Binghe, startled, stared after him. "Ah, I suppose I should join him," he said after a moment. He smiled and bowed his goodbye to Mu Qingfang, then did the same to Shen Qingqiu—and was it Shen Qingqiu's imagination, or did Binghe's polite expression get just a smidge colder when looking his way?

"...Is Shen-shixiong alright?" Mu Qingfang asked quietly after Binghe had left.

"Of course I'm alright," Shen Qingqiu said. And why wouldn't he be? It was Binghe that was cursed, or injured, or otherwise afflicted. Shen Qingqiu was fine. 

He was fine. And Mu Qingfang's pitying looks when he muttered his excuses and headed upstairs were frankly uncalled for. 

Without a Cure was acting up too much for him to join the hunt for sowers, and so Shen Qingqiu went back to his room and waited. But when Liu Qingge didn't return to clear his meridians, he found himself just…sitting. And thinking.

It was only natural, given the situation, that his thoughts turned to Binghe. 

When he'd pushed Binghe into the Abyss, he'd known that Binghe would hate him—had known that all their shared memories of quiet days together in the bamboo house, of playing music and eating food and composing poetry, would be overshadowed in Binghe's heart by Shen Qingqiu's betrayal. He'd been prepared to be the only one who remembered those times fondly.

He hadn't been prepared to be the only one who remembered those times at all. 

That knowledge sat heavy in his stomach as he waited. He watched the door, half expecting Binghe to burst through at any moment and declare that it had all been a trick, and that he remembered his horrible Shizun after all.

And wouldn't that be terrifying? Having Binghe set back on the path of revenge would be bad! And definitely not a little bit of a relief!

But Binghe didn't come to his room. Neither did Liu Qingge, and as the hours passed, Shen Qingqiu grew more and more restless. 

When he couldn't stand it any longer, he threw on his outer robe and left his room. 

It wasn't hard to find where in Jin Lan City the Huan Hua delegation was staying. When Shen Qingqiu asked around, he was pointed in the right direction—a fancy tea house, now abandoned, but fixed up by an entourage of Huan Hua servants so that their cultivators could have somewhere suitably refined to rest.

Slipping past the disciples that were on guard duty was as easy as ducking into an alley, jumping to an upper level window, and then creeping inside. Finding Binghe's individual room was more difficult. Everyone was asleep by this hour, which meant there were no cultivators to catch him, but there were also no servants that he could ask for directions. Shen Qingqiu quietly opened the first few doors only to be met with empty rooms or snoring junior disciples. He even accidentally stumbled across the women's room, to his horror! He shut that door extra quickly. It wouldn't do for Binghe to catch him there and get the wrong idea.

Not that it would look good getting caught sneaking around in any room at this hour. He'd look like a common thief! But he had to do this. Binghe might not remember having picked up a cursed artifact, but it was possible that not remembering it was itself an effect of the curse. If there were any traces of such an item (and there had to be, right? Or else how was Shen Qingqiu supposed to fulfill this quest?) then he might be able to detect them in Binghe's belongings.

The final room he checked only held a single occupant, and, while it was currently empty, it was definitely in use—the rumpled sheets on the bed and the half-eaten meal on the table attested to that. A quick look around revealed an outer robe thrown over a chair and a spare set of boots that looked like they would fit Binghe. 

This had to be Binghe's room. The only other person it could belong to was Gongyi Xiao, and he'd been asleep a few rooms back.

Unfortunately, there wasn't much to investigate. The boots and outer robe were normal, if overly-yellow. There were no suspiciously evil-looking bits of jewelry laying around, and the hair ornament Shen Qingqiu found on the dresser was extremely ordinary. The only thing special about it was that, when Shen Qingqiu held it up to get a better look at it, he was able to catch the faint scent of Binghe's hair.  

"Is Senior Shen looking for someone?"

Shen Qingqiu dropped the hair ornament. "Ah!" Shit. "Sorry! I was—"

Binghe was standing in the door watching him, his eyes as cold as ice. At the sight of such a frigid expression, the excuse Shen Qingqiu had prepared died on his lips. 

"I…"

Binghe looked down at the fallen hair ornament, then back up to him. He seemed unimpressed. "Did Senior Shen come here in the middle of the night just to borrow a hair ornament?" 

"...I was just looking for Binghe."

"I'm sure you were," Binghe said, his lip curling—and hadn't Shen Qingqiu noticed earlier that Binghe's expressions seemed fake? This one was genuine, though, and the disgust in it hurt more than he'd expected it to. "I'd heard rumors, but really, Senior Shen is too shameless."

Shen Qingqiu, who'd been reaching towards his neck to pull out his trump card, paused. What did that mean? 

"Shameless?"

"Did you think I wouldn't look into the man who used to be my Shizun?"

Oh, Shen Qingqiu did not like where this was going. 

"The stories of Shizun's whoring were surprisingly widespread—so much so that they couldn't be dismissed as idle gossip. I didn't believe them without proof, of course," Binghe said. "But when I searched the records of brothels near Cang Qiong Mountain, I found plenty of references to your visits. And then one day your visits just…stopped."

Shen Qingqiu supposed that would be when he'd transmigrated.

"Around that same time, our relationship was said to have improved," Binghe continued. "Why is that?" And oh, Binghe's voice was dangerously soft now, like a cat purring before it killed the mouse it'd been toying with. 

Only…the question was nonsensical. What did him and Binghe becoming closer have to do with Shen Qingqiu no longer visiting brothels? 

"I don't understand," Shen Qingqiu said, his voice a bit strangled.

"You don't? Let's try from another direction, then. Liu Qingge wondered why I didn't come back to Cang Qiong in the years after the conference, before my recent memory loss," Binghe said. "Most people ask the same question when they hear my story. But you weren't curious about that—because you already know why I didn't come back, because the story you told everyone of my death was a lie."

Shen Qingqiu swallowed. "Well—"

"I ran away from you, didn't I, Senior Shen? I used the chaos of the conference to escape." Binghe smiled. It wasn't a nice smile. "Tell me: did you start fucking me as soon as you got me into your bamboo house? The Palace Master hinted as much, but I didn't want to believe it. Yet here you are, creeping into my bedroom at night, sniffing at my hair ornament." 

Shen Qingqiu felt his mind go blank. He'd heard Binghe's words, but…

He blinked, then blinked again. 

"Well?" Binghe's eyes narrowed. "Don't have any pretty excuses for me? Any assurances that I've got it all wrong?"

Shen Qingqiu just stared at him. "You think…"

The impossibility of what Binghe was suggesting was so outrageous that, for a moment, it was almost funny. A hysterical bubble of laughter forced its way out of him.

Whatever reaction Binghe had been expecting, this hadn't been it. He frowned as Shen Qingqiu gasped for breath, his burst of laughter quickly turning into something else, something more panicked. 

"You think—Binghe, I didn't—I never, I swear, I—"

If Binghe's revenge for pushing him into the Abyss had been stick-ification, what would his revenge for this be? Shen Qingqiu couldn't even begin to fathom it—but if he didn't set the record straight, he might have to experience it firsthand. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves, and then took another deep breath, and then another, and oh—now he was just hyperventilating, wasn't he?

Binghe watched him for a moment, his face thoughtful. "You're surprised by my suggestion," he said. "Too surprised. I got it wrong, didn't I?"

Shen Qingqiu wheezed a sigh of relief. "Yes! Yes, you got it wrong. I—"

"It wasn't lust. It was love." 

Binghe smiled triumphantly. 

Shen Qingqiu stared at him, numb.

"...Love?"

"You've been inconsolable, calling out my name like you lost your soul, refusing to eat," Binghe said, listing his symptoms with a bored indifference. "If you believed yourself in love, perhaps you waited until I was grown, then confessed your feelings at the conference. It could have been planned; it could have been said on impulse in the heat of battle. Either way, when those feelings weren't returned and I left your tutelage in disgust, you simply lied about my disappearance to save face, and you've been pining ever since. How close am I this time?"

That…was better than the first explanation, at least. And it was certainly more forgivable than Shen Qingqiu's actual crime. 

He could probably get away with letting Binghe believe it. He probably should. It was an embarrassing story, but that only made it more believable. With that as the reason for their separation, Binghe might even forgive him one day, assuming he didn't get his memories back.

…Assuming he didn't get his memories back.  

Shen Qingqiu felt his heart go cold. 

Until now, he'd been operating under the assumption that this amnesia, whatever its cause, was temporary. But what if it wasn't? What if Binghe never remembered?

If all of Binghe's past memories, all of his feelings and hopes and dreams, were forgotten forever—wasn't that the same as if the child he'd been had died? And that meant Shen Qingqiu would have killed him. Not temporarily put him through pain, not betrayed him and broken his trust, but actually killed him.

He clenched his fists, then looked down, suddenly unable to meet Binghe's eyes.

"I don't want to talk about the conference," he said hoarsely, which was true enough. "But…Binghe should know that he deserved better. I didn't treat him as I should have, and he's suffered for it."

Binghe would interpret that as confirmation of his romantic-confession theory, but there was no way to refute it without confessing to something worse, or raising more suspicions. 

"That almost sounds like an apology," Binghe said. 

"Yes, well—"

"I'd probably accept it, if I could remember what you were apologizing for." Binghe sighed. He sounded tired. "Senior Shen, why are you here?"

Shen Qingqiu had come prepared for this. 

The System had yelled at him when he'd pulled the fake jade pendant from storage. [User should remember that this is worth -1000 anger points!] the System had said repeatedly. It only reluctantly handed it over, and only after making Shen Qingqiu wait through a bullshit buffering screen while the pendant slowly materialized.

But was reducing anger points all the pendant was good for? Having it gave Shen Qingqiu two things: a good excuse to have been looking for Binghe if he got caught searching the Huan Hua rooms, and a ray of hope. After all, what was more precious to Binghe than his mother's last gift? If this was a chapter in PIDW, seeing such an important part of his past would definitely force Binghe's memories to return!

Shen Qingqiu reached into the neck of his robes and carefully pulled out the guanyin. He slipped the string over his neck, then held it out to Binghe, who—

Was watching it cautiously, no hint of recognition in his eyes. 

"You came to give me a gift?" Binghe made no move to take it.

"It was from your mother," Shen Qingqiu said softly, his heart sinking. "It was the last thing she gave you before she…"

He stopped. That probably wasn't the best way to break the news to someone that their mother was dead, was it? But Binghe only nodded and accepted the pendant.

"It's fake," he said, turning it over in his hands.

"It was all she could afford." It felt wrong to see Binghe holding the pendant like this—casually, as if it was a curiosity and nothing more. "It meant a lot to you, once. But you lost it. I found it, and have been keeping it safe until I was able to return it."

"So you found a precious keepsake of mine…and have been wearing it around your neck, over your heart?"

Shen Qingqiu spluttered. "I don't normally wear it!" 

"You packed it in a bag just for this mission, then? Despite not knowing you'd find me here?"

"...Yes."

The lie was laughable. Binghe looked at him with something akin to pity, and Shen Qingqiu could feel his face flush. 

"Thank you for the necklace, Senior Shen," Binghe said after a few moments. "I truly do appreciate you returning it."

"You're welcome."

There was an awkward silence as Binghe watched him expectantly.

"...You can leave now."

"Right."

Their conversation had woken the Huan Hua cultivators. As Shen Qingqiu fled into the hallway, he saw faces peering at him through now-open doors. His face, which was already red with embarrassment, heated further as he heard the laughter and scandalized whispers that followed him.

How much had they heard? Everything, probably. Binghe hadn't exactly been quiet.

Shen Qingqiu didn't run from the building, because that would be undignified, but he did walk quickly. Not quickly enough to escape hearing what they were saying, though.

"...finds out he's alive, and shows up in his bedroom that same night?"

"...lecherous bastard. Binghe should've killed…"

"...did you see him? I think I'd die of humiliation if I…"

Cultivator hearing really was a curse, wasn't it? Even as he left the building, he could hear the muffled, low sound of Binghe's voice responding to someone. Shen Qingqiu couldn't make out the words, but his amused tone was clear enough. 

Shen Qingqiu gave into temptation and broke out into a run. He was far enough away that it was unlikely anyone saw it, and if they did, would it matter?

It wasn't as if he had any face left to lose.

Shen Qingqiu didn't get any sleep that night. His only consolation, dragging himself exhausted and humiliated from his bedroom the next day, was that things couldn't get any worse. 

He watched with dull eyes as the sower pointed at him, accusing him of being the one who'd inflicted the plague on the city—but really, what had he expected? That Binghe would quietly suffer the indignity of his former Shizun's romantic intentions? Of course he'd want payback! If anything, this was a good sign, at least for Binghe. If he was able to organize this, then he was still aware of and in touch with his demon heritage.

But when the Old Palace Master joined the crowd in questioning Shen Qingqiu's integrity, Binghe stepped forward.

"The sower is lying," Binghe said. "Demons do that. Besides, Senior Shen was infected as well, wasn't he?"

The Old Palace Master shot Binghe an incredulous look, but Binghe didn't so much as glance at him, his eyes locked on Shen Qingqiu.

Why was Binghe helping him? Did that mean it wasn't Binghe who'd arranged this? 

Help from an unlikely ally was still help. Shen Qingqiu nodded and raised his sleeve, revealing the growing sower rash.

Yue Qingyuan inhaled sharply. Mu Qingfang sighed. "Shen-shixiong," he said, sounding tired. "You really should tell me about these things."

The crowd muttered, and for a moment it looked like their attention had shifted away from him. Then—

"Shen Qingqiu may not be guilty of demonic collusion, but he's not innocent!" A woman stepped forward, her finger pointing accusingly at Shen Qingqiu. "When I was a child, he—"

"Private grievances should be handled privately," Binghe said. "Now, about the sowers…"

The woman (who, given the original goods' backstory, was probably Qiu Haitang) looked shocked at the interruption, and the Old Palace Master seemed like he wanted to strangle Binghe a bit, but this time the moment was well and truly gone. The conversation was forcefully shepherded back to disposing of the sowers and curing the plague, and Shen Qingqiu was able to fade back into the crowd.

When Huan Hua started dispatching people to find wood to burn the sowers, Shen Qingqiu took that as his cue to leave. They didn't need him for this, and he'd rather push the conversation with Qiu Haitang off until never, thank you. But as he moved through the crowds, a hand reached out and grabbed his elbow.

He looked up to see Binghe watching him with a conflicted expression. 

"Binghe?" he said, startled. He wouldn't have thought Binghe would want to be near him after last night's debacle, much less seek his company out.

"I really do appreciate you returning the pendant," Binghe said.

"...Oh. Of course. It is yours, after all," Shen Qingqiu said.

"It clearly meant a lot to you, though. And while I may not have the same attachment to it, it is nice to have a piece of my past back. That's why I spoke up when I did. Any debt I owe to you is now paid," 

"Oh."

Binghe let go of his arm and stepped back. "This time, we can part ways on good terms."

Shen Qingqiu stared at him. It wasn't like he wanted Binghe around, not with how awkward things were! And his only alternative to awkwardness was somehow returning Binghe's memories and accepting Binghe's homicidal rage. It was really a no-win scenario!

But still, didn't this seem too sudden? Was Binghe really going to be gone? Forever, just like that?

That felt wrong—but more importantly, how was he supposed to solve Binghe's curse and finish the System quest if he never saw Binghe again?

"We used to go on night hunts together," Shen Qingqiu said desperately. "You always really enjoyed that. Perhaps it would help with recovering your memories if we continued—"

"No."

"Or we could just talk. I'm sure you have a lot of questions about your childhood. I could visit you at Huan Hua Palace occasionally, and we could have tea, and—"

"I said, 'no.' Goodbye, Senior Shen," Binghe said firmly, and then walked away, disappearing back into the crowd without a backward glance.

When Liu Qingge found Shen Qingqiu later, he was sitting in his room, staring blankly at the wall.

Liu Qingge frowned. "Where's your disciple?"

"He's not coming," Shen Qingqiu said. 

Liu Qingge's eyebrows scrunched up in displeasure at that. "I'll go talk to him."

"Please don't." Whatever Binghe would have to say in response was too humiliating to contemplate.

Liu Qingge gave him a long look, then shrugged. "Alright. Mu Qingfang needs to heal your sower's rash, and then we have to go—the lady from earlier is still yelling."

So Qiu Haiting hadn't been entirely dissuaded by Binghe's lack of support. "We should probably leave quickly," Shen Qingqiu agreed.

The flight back to Cang Qiong was long, but it gave Shen Qingqiu time to think. If Luo Binghe didn't want to meet with him, that was fine. It really was. 

He was fine.  

But Binghe wasn't, and Shen Qingqiu was not going to just give up on him.

And really, what better person was there to fix this problem than him? Who was more familiar with PIDW than he was? Shen Qingqiu knew where to find this world's overpowered artifacts, its undiscovered magical plants, and its tomes of secret cultivation techniques. If anyone could sneak into the Huan Hua Palace undetected and continue investigating Binghe's memory loss, it was him.

Also, he knew the author-god of this world. He hadn't been terribly helpful up until now, but if anyone might have insider knowledge of what was going on, it was Shang Qinghua.

Chapter Text

Shang Qinghua was away on a mission when Shen Qingqiu returned, and had been for several months. The mission was almost certainly a front for him being off galavanting around the demon realm with Mobei-Jun—and sure enough, when he returned a few weeks later, he looked frazzled and cold. 

He was also no help whatsoever.

"He forgot you? Completely?" Shang Qinghua tapped his chin thoughtfully, then shrugged. "No idea what could have caused it. But that's good luck for you!"

"Good luck?" Shen Qingqiu frowned at him over the top of his fan. "And what about when he inevitably gets challenged by one of the story's villains? Without Xin Mo and his demon powers, he doesn't stand a chance."

"Sounds like a 'him' problem," said Shang Qinghua, then, "Ow! Stop hitting me! Why are you so mad? Wasn't this what you wanted?"

"I wanted him to leave me alone, not to die. And he's your son! Have some compassion!"

"You always yell at me when I call him that," Shang Qinghua muttered. "Besides, I'm not thrilled about this either! Do you know what's happening in the demon realm right now? It's chaos, bro!"

"Oh?" Shen Qingqiu hadn't considered what Binghe's disappearance would mean for his fledgling empire. He frowned. "Tell me everything."

Shang Qinghua happily took the opportunity to launch into a rant that was mostly complaining about his workload, but also touched on the heart of the problem. The empire he described was one that was hanging on by a thread. It was too young and too untested to go so long without its emperor at the helm. 

"I'm having to do all of my King's paperwork and all of Luo Binghe's," Shang Qinghua said. "Both Mobei-Jun and Sha Hualing are doing their best to keep his disappearance a secret, but that'll only last for so long. Sooner or later some warlord is going to try to usurp the throne, and without the protagonist's OP powers, they might just succeed."

"Then you'll help me fix this?" Shen Qingqiu asked. Not that he had planned on giving Airplane much of a choice—if he refused, Shen Qingqiu was happy to strong-arm him into it.

But Shang Qinghua nodded eagerly. "Yes! And Mobei-Jun will, too! And Sha Hualing, probably, if we can convince her not to just kill Binghe while he's in his weakened state and declare herself empress in his stead." He paused, thoughtful. "Hmm. On second thought, let's leave Sha Hualing out of this one."

"Fine by me. I've gathered a few items that should help me get close enough to Binghe to uncover the truth"—he hadn't been idle while waiting for Shang Qinghua's return—"but I need you to keep an eye out for any info on what could have caused this."

"Of course, bro! I'd be happy to," said Shang Qinghua, sighing. "I'll just use my copious amounts of free time to do research for you, then."

Breaking into Huan Hua Palace wasn't hard, not with the artifacts and information Shen Qingqiu had gathered from various ancient ruins and forgotten caves.

The Ring of Hiding was one of Shang Qinghua's least creative inventions, but it was also one of his more useful ones. Not only did it make the wearer invisible, but it also dampened a person's sound, smell, and qi signature. Luo Binghe had used it to infiltrate the demon realm's deadly Midnight Court in a thirty chapter epic stealth mission that had kept Shen Qingqiu on the edge of his seat. At least it had, until Binghe secured his control of the new territory by taking the shadow princess to bed for another thirty chapters, and really—there were only so many different ways you could write, "...and then she screamed with pleasure," until things got repetitive.

Compared to Binghe's ambitious undertaking, Shen Qingqiu's was a bit…underwhelming. He simply put on the ring, waited for a group of Huan Hua disciples to pass by on patrol, then tailed them back through the maze array and into the Palace proper. From there, he was able to explore at will, meandering through the halls until he found where the high ranked disciples were housed. 

It wasn't long before Binghe emerged from one of the rooms. He looked good despite some faint shadows under his eyes and his horrible yellow robes. Palace life agreed with him, it seemed; he appeared to be confident, calm, and in control. 

Was he officially the head disciple, yet? If not, surely he would be soon. Who could spend any time around Binghe and not want to promote him?

Shen Qingqiu's plan was simple—follow Binghe, and observe. If this memory loss was being caused by someone, Shen Qingqiu might be able to catch them in the act; if it was being caused by an artifact, he'd be close enough to sense its energy; and if it was something in Binghe's food, he'd be able to take a sample, and bring it to Mu Qingfang for analysis. 

If it was none of the above….

Well. At least Shen Qingqiu would be close enough to protect Binghe if someone tried to take advantage of his altered state.

Shen Qingqiu knew Binghe wouldn't be able to sense him through the protective powers of the ring. There had even been a scene in the original story where the ring had been temporarily stolen from Binghe, and somewhat-successfully used against him! Still, he tensed when Binghe walked past him in the narrow hallway, passing close enough that Shen Qingqiu could feel the air stir as Binghe's robes swirled by him, and could smell Binghe's hair as his ponytail whipped past his nose.

He held himself as still as a rock until Binghe was further down the hallway, his heart hammering in his chest. He'd have to be careful to keep more distance between them from now on, and to do his best to avoid cramped spaces. Binghe might not be able to see or hear him, but he'd definitely notice if he bounced off of someone who wasn't there!

Crowded spaces were the bigger problem, it turned out—and one that was much more difficult to avoid. People were drawn to Binghe, gravitating to him and then staying in his orbit, vying for his attention. First a few juniors scurried up to him in the hall, peppering him with questions and compliments; then it was a couple cute girls close to Binghe's age who approached him with fluttering eyes and coquettish smiles; then it was a handful of senior level disciples, currying favor with the new sect's new golden boy.

And through it all, Binghe chatted and smiled—but it was the same fake smile Shen Qingqiu had seen on him back in Jin Lan city. 

"Hey!" a disciple snapped, bouncing off of Shen Qingqiu's shoulder in his rush to join Binghe's entourage, then did a double take when he realized no one was there.

"What's wrong?" a girl asked as she passed the confused disciple, giving him an odd look.

"I thought I ran into something, but…"

"You're so clumsy! Come on, or there won't be any seats left next to Luo Binghe at breakfast."

There were, in fact, no seats left next to Binghe. When Binghe sat down to eat, the Huan Hua disciples clustered eagerly around him, and he proceeded to hold court, gracing a senior disciple with his attention one minute, then turning and laughing at a junior's joke the next. He was good at it, and watching him, Shen Qingqiu was beginning to feel like his own presence here was unnecessary. Binghe was still strong (as evidenced by the sword practice that Shen Qingqiu followed him to afterwards, where he wiped the floor with every challenger) and he was still brilliant (the instructor in his poetry class actually stopped the lecture several times to ask Binghe's opinion). He clearly still had all his charisma. Maybe he'd find a way to defeat his future enemies even without his golden finger! He was the protagonist, after all. And it wasn't hard to imagine that his life, without the agony of the Abyss in his head, might be easier.

But his smiles were a little too perfect, and his laughs were a little too practiced, and by the end of the day, Shen Qingqiu had to face the troubling fact that Binghe hadn't once looked genuinely happy.

One of Binghe's many "friends" should have noticed. They'd known him for six months, hadn't they? They should be looking at him with concern and asking what was wrong! But none of them seemed close enough to Binghe to realize that anything was amiss, and so his horrible fake smile went unchallenged. 

Even the Old Palace Master was buying the act.

"I heard Luo Binghe took first place in the debate yesterday," the Old Palace Master said, smiling as Binghe poured them both tea during what appeared to be a regularly scheduled meeting. "I'm glad he's settling in so well to his new life here."

Except Binghe wasn't settling in well. He was clearly miserable! Why could no one see that? Shen Qingqiu grit his teeth and seethed from the corner as Binghe nodded cheerfully in agreement. 

"I do my best," Binghe said, ducking his head as if embarrassed by the Palace Master's praise (except if he'd actually been embarrassed, he'd be bright red and stuttering). "Thanking the Palace Master again for showing me such incredible hospitality. This humble one will be forever in your debt."

"Nonsense! You're like a son to me!" The Old Palace Master's eyes took on an enterprising gleam. "Speaking of which, I hear you've been getting along well with my daughter."

Binghe's smile never faltered during the Old Palace Master's sales pitch of his daughter as marriage material, despite Binghe having been visibly frustrated by her conversation during lunch (others might not have noticed, but Shen Qingqiu had seen how the corners of Binghe's eyes had tightened, and how his fingers had begun to tap and fidget). "It would be an honor to one day be closer to her, and to you," was all he said, and the Old Palace Master's answering smile was so self-satisfied that Shen Qingqiu was forced to look away before he did something he would regret. 

It wasn't until Binghe was back in his room, alone (or so he thought), that his pleasant facade dropped. Shen Qingqiu watched as his mouth went thin and hard, his eyes flashing in irritation. He kicked off his shoes and slouched onto his bed, rubbing his temples as if trying to rid himself of a headache. 

Shen Qingqiu's fingers itched to help—but how? If they'd been in the bamboo house he could have made Binghe some calming tea, or played him a song, and Binghe would have smiled up at him gratefully…

A knock interrupted his thoughts. From the bed, Binghe gave the door a tired look.

"Fang-shimei, I told you that you didn't need to do this," Binghe said, getting up with a sigh and walking towards the door.

On the other side of it, someone giggled. "But if I don't bring him food, what will gege eat?"

"The food from the kitchens, if I was hungry," Binghe said, and then his pleasant smile was back in place, and he was opening the door.

The tray of food that the very pretty, very scantily clad girl was holding was, in Shen Qingqiu's opinion, a bit pathetic. Compared to Binghe's own cooking, the presentation was lacking, and the smells coming from the plates couldn't hold a candle to even Binghe's worst dish. But Binghe accepted them with apparent good humor, firmly but politely ignored the girl's attempt to invite herself in, and then retreated to a small table in the corner of the room to eat his dinner alone. 

The stallion protagonist sitting alone in his room, eating dinner in silence, hadn't been how Shen Qingqiu had imagined things would go. It was true that Binghe had always preferred quiet meals in the bamboo house to the rowdy cafeteria, and had only gone to festivals when prodded to or accompanied by Shen Qingqiu, but Shen Qingqiu had assumed that was at least partially his presence holding Binghe back. He'd been sure that, once Binghe achieved a bit more independence, he'd be in the thick of things, living it up with his peers. Binghe was good with people, after all! So good that he could charm his way to the top of Huan Hua in a matter of months!

But Binghe was good at most things. That didn't necessarily mean he enjoyed them. Was the time he'd spent in PIDW winning over the hearts and minds of his supporters really just another chore for him? Seeing how Binghe, alone, had finally relaxed for the first time that day, Shen Qingqiu was faced with the unsettling realization that it probably had been.

The thought was almost too depressing to contemplate. If Binghe found being surrounded by people unpleasant, then what had all his hard work gotten him? As the emperor of the combined realms, his days were spent managing crowds of nobles and diplomats, and his nights only brought more politicking, this time from his harem. 

What was the point of it all, if Binghe didn't enjoy it?

Shen Qingqiu drifted closer, studying Binghe's face…and his meal. Binghe looked well enough, if a bit tired, but the meal was a bit suspicious, wasn't it? Had this little sister, set on winning Binghe for herself, dosed Binghe's food with something? 

There was one guaranteed way to find out.

Binghe had implied that he wasn't hungry when his dinner was delivered, and the way he picked at his food confirmed it. When he went to bed, there were plenty of leftovers for Shen Qingqiu to choose from. He waited until Binghe's breaths had settled into a deep, slow rhythm (and then waited an hour or so  extra, because this was the protagonist he was dealing with), before turning away from the bed and creeping to the table. 

Would she have poisoned just one of the dishes? Or all of them, to be safe? Shen Qingqiu scooped up a small sample of everything and deposited it carefully into his qiankun bag, which would definitely need to be washed out after this, but it couldn't be helped. 

He was inspecting a pear (which looked normal, but with PIDW, who could tell for sure?) when he felt the sword tip touch his back.

Though "touch" might be understating it. It pierced his back, just a little, and when he yelled and tried to jerk away, a hand wrapped around his throat, holding him in place. 

"Show yourself," Binghe said, softly, dangerously.

Shen Qingqiu froze.

"I know you're there," Binghe continued. "I can feel you under my fingers, and I can see the pear that you're holding."

Shen Qingqiu swallowed. Showing himself was a bad idea—but how could he get away? There was no way he could beat Binghe in a fight, not when he had Without a Cure, and not with Binghe already at such an advantage. 

Binghe's fingers tightened, and Shen Qingqiu choked.

"You know, your blood is visible," Luo Binghe added conversationally. "It's running down my blade right now. Whatever is hiding you doesn't seem to apply to anything that leaves your body. Will other parts of you show, I wonder, when I cut them off?"

Well. That made his decision easy, then.

Shen Qingqiu reluctantly lowered his hand, which had begun instinctively scrabbling at Binghe's fingers, and removed the ring. 

Binghe was silent for a long moment. 

"So it was Senior Shen," he said. He sounded…tired. And a bit disappointed. Or was that disgust? "I'd hoped we wouldn't cross paths again. Is Qing Jing Peak's food so bad that you've had to resort to this?" The sword in his back was removed (though the fingers around his neck, notably, weren't) and Binghe waved it at his half-empty dinner tray. 

The Qing Jing food was pretty bad, but that wasn't what Binghe was really asking. "I was trying to find answers to Binghe's memory problems," Shen Qingqiu gasped around the hold on his throat. "I thought perhaps your food had been poisoned, or—"

"Or there was something sinister about my daily routine? So much so that Senior Shen needed to follow me?"

Shen Qingqiu cringed, and the fingers around his neck tightened briefly, threateningly, then loosened. He lurched away from Binghe, drawing in frantic gulps of air, and spun around.

Binghe's face was impassive as he watched Shen Qingqiu struggle to regain his breath. "There were an unusually high number of clumsy disciples today. Quite a few people were running into things they couldn't see, or tripping over objects that didn't appear to be there. Strange, isn't it?"

Or stepping on invisible toes, and alright, perhaps this hadn't been a perfect plan.

"All of that could have been a coincidence, of course. Still, the oddness of it kept me awake, long enough to see food from my tray start rising into the air and vanishing. Was Senior Shen testing the food by sampling it himself, I wonder?" Binghe's eyes flicked down to the half-eaten pear Shen Qingqiu was still holding, and he reached out as if to take it back. "Surely such a highly esteemed immortal master wouldn't go to such lengths just to place his lips where mine had been." 

Shen Qingqiu clutched the pear to his chest. It was just a pear, but…what if the pear was the answer? There were plenty of suspect plants in PIDW that it could have come from! If Shen Qingqiu relinquished it now, and it turned out to have been the answer this whole time—

Binghe watched him all but hug the fruit, and his impassive expression morphed into one of disbelief and disdain. "Really? You're that desperate?"

Shen Qingqiu spluttered. "I'm not going to eat it! I'm taking it back to Mu Qingfang!" 

"Perhaps you are." Binghe gave Shen Qingqiu a knowing look. "But Master Shen, why are you working so hard to solve this disciple's problem? You're not my Shizun, not anymore, and I've made it clear that your help is unwelcome. So why persist?"

"There are certain things Binghe needs to know—elements of his past that he needs to remember." Like his demon heritage, or Xin Mo, and how either or both of them had been hidden. If Binghe's memory loss hadn't been an accident, then whoever had done this almost certainly didn't have Binghe's best interests at heart.

"Things I need to remember? Like my love for Senior Shen?"

"What? No, I—"

"Do you truly think that if you bring back my memories, I'll fall for you?"

"No!" He really, really didn't! But Binghe's eyes were appraising as he watched Shen Qingqiu's face flush, and after a moment, he seemed to reach some sort of conclusion. His smile broadened, and his posture relaxed, his hips cocking to one side and his eyes lowering until they could almost be called seductive. 

Except that didn't make sense. Shen Qingqiu wasn't a girl! Why would Binghe look at him like that? But he was, and he was also reaching out, one finger gently lifting Shen Qingqiu's chin. He tilted Shen Qingqiu's head from side to side, examining him.

"You know, I've heard a lot of stories about my former Shizun during my time here," Binghe murmured. He leaned close—so close that their faces were almost touching, and Shen Qingqiu's vision was filled with Binghe's dark eyes and his softly parted lips. "But I never expected him to be so…"

Shen Qingqiu's heart was beating too fast, too loud. Binghe's hand was touching his, and his face was right there, his cheek brushing against Shen Qingqiu's and his breath warm against the shell of Shen Qingqiu's ear as he pressed closer and whispered, "... pathetic."

Shen Qingqiu jerked out of his grasp. Binghe was laughing now, holding the ring he'd swiped from Shen Qingqiu's grasp under the guise of… whatever that had been, his eyes cold as he watched Shen Qingqiu stumble back against the table and flee the room.

"So," said Yue Qingyuan. "I hear you've visited Huan Hua Palace recently."

Shen Qingqiu didn't have time for this. Mu Qingfang had cleared all the food Shen Qingqiu had given him, which meant that he needed to go back. 

"And if I have?" he asked.

"Shen-shidi…" Yue Qingyuan looked pained.

"What?"

"Luo Binghe has publicly issued a complaint against you. He claims you concealed yourself, followed him throughout his day, even snuck into his bedroom at night and stole leftover food from his dinner plate." Yue Qingyuan gave him a meaningful look. "Mu Qingfang has also informed me that you handed him a plate of half-eaten food to inspect for poison. I was concerned at first that you were worried about an attack on yourself, but…"

Shen Qingqiu sighed. "It sounds worse than it is. I'm just trying to help cure him."

"I'm sure."

They drank tea in silence for a minute. Shen Qingqiu had intentionally brewed it badly in the hopes that it might encourage the sect leader to keep his visit short, but Yue Qingyuan hardly seemed to notice that he was drinking tea at all, too busy visibly steeling himself for whatever he was about to say. Which meant that now Shen Qingqiu was now stuck with Yue Qingyuan and he didn't even have a decent cup of tea to help him through it.

"Qiu Haitang is also continuing to make allegations against you," Yue Qingyuan said. "The story of you being a slave, and having been engaged to marry her, has spread too far to contain, I'm afraid." He shot Shen Qingqiu a nervous look.

That wasn't surprising. "And what about the story where I murdered her entire family?"

"...That one hasn't spread as far," Yue Qingyuan said, forcing a smile. "It seems to be somewhat held in check by the stories coming from your former disciple. Which is lucky, I suppose. The general consensus seems to be that you were engaged, but left her because you're a…" Yue Qingyuan coughed. "Because you weren't attracted to her, and the humiliation led her to try and besmirch your name."

Without Liu Qingge's death and the other crimes that had piled up at the original goods' feet, it seemed that mass-murder was just a tad too unbelievable a claim to leverage against a respected immortal without any evidence.  

"Well that's a relief, I suppose," Shen Qingqiu said slowly.

And that probably should have been the end of the conversation, but Yue Qingyuan continued to linger, fidgeting with his cup.

"Shidi," he said eventually, slowly. "You know that if the tragedy at the Immortal Alliance Conference occurred differently than you had originally described, that it would be alright to tell me, right?"

Ah. So that's what this was. "You suspect me of lusting after my disciple, too?" Was this how the original goods had felt, with the sect leader believing every bad rumor about him? 

"No! But…" Yue Qingyuan quailed under Shen Qingqiu's glare, but forged ahead anyway. "His spiritual blade was broken. I know there was a terrible fight. But he clearly didn't fall into the Abyss—he wouldn't be wandering around now if he had. And Shen-shidi was in his room at Huan Hua, wasn't he?"

"What are you implying, Zhangmen-shixiong?"

"I'm only saying that, if there were…feelings on your part, no one would be surprised. We all knew how close you two were. However," and here Yue Qingyuan paused, his face grave,"Shen-shidi still needs to respect Luo Binghe's decision to leave. I understand how difficult it can be when you want to be close to someone who doesn't return your feelings, but you must honor the other person's wishes and do your best to maintain your own dignity. While Shen-shidi's behavior is understandable, it's unbecoming."

What did he mean, "No one would be surprised" ? Shen Qingqiu grit his teeth.

"Zhangmen-shixiong?"

"Yes?"

"Get out of my house."

His second attempt to sneak into Huan Hua was also successful. There was no need to lurk around Binghe's room this time—he'd spent long enough there while Binghe ate and slept (or at least, pretended to sleep) that he felt reasonably certain there was nothing there that was out of the ordinary. He hadn't sensed any resentful energy, and hadn't seen any strange artifacts laying around. That didn't mean there weren't any, of course, but his odds of successfully getting into Binghe's room again seemed low. Binghe had almost certainly warded it, and would be on the lookout for intruders.

But the cause of his amnesia didn't have to be something he'd stowed away in his room. It could be something on his person, or in his past. If that was the case, then if Shen Qingqiu hung around him, it was possible that there'd be a chance to either glimpse it or to notice some telltale symptom that would help Shen Qingqiu get to the bottom of it all. 

Shang Qinghua's network of spies had also turned up more information about Binghe's rescue. 

"The Huan Hua disciples drink at an inn outside the Palace gates," Shang Qinghua had said. "We gave some of them a few extra cups of wine and they spilled everything. Luo Binghe was found ripped half-to shreds near the border of the demon realm, which means—"

"—That he had his canon encounter with the Nighsung Shrieker," Shen Qingqiu had finished. "Which doesn't cause memory loss."

And so they were back to square one, meaning Shen Qingqiu's next best option was using a talisman of transformation (a secret technique from an ancient tome, hidden in a haunted cave) to turn himself into a brand new Huan Hua disciple. 

It was a pretty good disguise. His new self looked hardly more than fourteen or fifteen, with a face and figure that were nondescript enough to escape notice. When he donned the Huan Hua disciple robes that Shang Qinghua gave him (stolen from the same inn, leaving some unlucky disciple who'd spent the night to scurry home in nothing but inner robes) he was ready to blend into the crowd and be forgotten. 

It didn't hurt that Huan Hua accepted more disciples than it could keep track of, and that Gongyi Xiao, who was nominally in charge of organizing them, was now being challenged for his position. 

"And you're sure Luo Binghe said you were included on this night hunt?" the disciple in charge of inventory asked skeptically.

"He did! You can ask him yourself," Shen Qingqiu said, his voice strangely small and high to his own ears.

The disciple shook her head and grudgingly handed Shen Qingqiu his pack and sword. Bothering Binghe would mean tracking him down and battling through his crowd of admirers—not worth it, not when the stakes were so low, and possibility of irritating Binghe was so high. If Shen Qingqiu was lying, he'd be the one to get in trouble, not her.

"I haven't seen you before. Gongyi Xiao really assigned a new kid to this?" the disciple in charge of distributing horses asked when Shen Qingqiu showed up at the gates, ready to go.

Shen Qingqiu nodded. "He did."

"Ha! Deciding who does and doesn't go on Binghe's trips? He technically has the authority to, but he's playing a dangerous game," the disciple said, then moved on down the line, checking in with the other participants and muttering to himself.  

When Binghe showed up, he was already flanked by several beautiful Huan Hua girls, and barely stopped to look at the gathered disciples. His eyes passed over Shen Qingqiu's face with the same neutral disinterest that the rest of the group was treated with, which felt…strange. Shen Qingqiu was so used to being the focus of that gaze, whether it was in admiration or irritation, that it felt odd to be so unimportant. 

Somehow, he'd felt less invisible when he was actually invisible.

He was so busy watching Binghe he didn't notice the other disciple sidling up to him as they were assigned their horses and preparing to depart.

"I haven't seen you around before. Did you just join? Did your parents pay for you to be on this trip?" she asked in a hushed voice, leaning close.

Shen Qingqiu gave her a startled look. She appeared to be about the same age Shen Qingqiu was pretending to be—so one of the youngest on the trip. "It's alright if they did," she continued. "Mine did, too. We just have to stay out of everyone's way, and our families will be able to brag about our amazing hunt next week at their parties."

She gave him a reassuring smile, and Shen Qingqiu did his best to return it. "Was I that obvious?" he said.

"...Well." She laughed a little, but it wasn't unkind. "If you were strong enough to have earned a spot in one of Luo Binghe's hunts at such a young age, I'd have heard of you already, you know?"

"Oh."

"But that's okay! It means you don't have to worry about pretending. Everyone knows why we're here. Just enjoy the trip, and bask in his presence." She nodded at Binghe with a cheeky grin.

He felt his face flush. "He, ah, is a pretty amazing cultivator, isn't he?"

"Is that why you were staring at him like that? Because of his 'cultivation'?" 

"What? Staring at him like what? What do you—hey!"

But she was already on her horse and moving, laughing at him over her shoulder as he scrambled to catch up.

The other young disciple, Mei Yan, had been right about the older cultivators not paying them much attention. They were still expected to pitch in with chores such as helping to set up camp and preparing the food, but everyone knew their parents were bankrolling their experience, and didn't seem to have high expectations for their performance.

Shen Qingqiu had, in his past life, occasionally paid to be carried through video game raids that he wasn't high enough level for. This experience felt uncannily similar, with him essentially assigned to twiddle his thumbs as everyone else did the heavy lifting, and he waited to reap the rewards. 

It was…frustrating, being so useless. 

It was also probably for the best. On the second day of travel they were delayed when a low level group of demonic wolves attacked the group, and it quickly became clear how ill-prepared Shen Qingqiu was to fake being a new fighter.

"Don't let them surround us!" Binghe said sharply, drawing his sword. The other disciples followed his lead, jumping into the fray and making quick work of the beasts.

Binghe was as good a fighter as ever—better even, for his time in the Abyss and his training at Huan Hua. He and the other senior disciples were fast and efficient as they fought, but they were outnumbered. Despite his position at the back of the group, Shen Qingqiu almost immediately found himself faced with a wolf circling his horse, its glowing yellow eyes radiating hunger, and its needle toothed mouth salivating in anticipation as it eyed him and his panicking mount.

"Get out of there!" Mei Yan yelled at him from the nearby tree she'd scrambled up. She patted the branch she was sitting on. "There's room! Don't try to be a hero!"

And Shen Qingqiu wasn't trying to be a hero. He really wasn't! But these were enemies a disciple of his age should be able to handle. Running from such a small threat was too embarrassing, even if he wasn't wearing his real face!

He jumped down from his mount and pulled his sword, but the stance his feet wanted to move into was too obviously from Qing Jing Peak. He widened his legs, moving out of the quick and elegant stance into something more tough and aggressive. That was the approach that Huan Hua cultivators favored, but he couldn't be too good at it, could he? He had to make sure his movements were a little clumsy, a little slow, and—

The wolf demon threw itself at his throat. He moved to block it, only the sword was strangely heavy in his young arms, and he couldn't use too much qi to reinforce it without raising suspicion, and also he should be making a more direct attack if he wanted to mimic Huan Hua fighting styles. He tried to correct his movement mid-swing, but all he managed to do was weakly bounce the blade off the wolf's neck, which did cause the wolf to fall back for a moment—but it also sent the sword flying out of his awkward grip and onto the ground a couple meters away. 

And now the wolf was gathering itself for another attack, and he didn't have a weapon to defend himself. 

Mei Yan was screaming. Shen Qingqiu was contemplating whether it was worth it to break his cover to actually fight, or if he should push his luck and try to make a run for it, when a figure landed in front of him.

Even from behind, Binghe was unmistakable. His sword came down fast and ruthless on the wolf's neck, the blood somehow missing his robes as it splattered.

For a moment Shen Qingqiu could only stare. How was he so cool?

Binghe's face when he turned to look at Shen Qingqiu over his shoulder, however, was like a bucket of ice water over Shen Qingqiu's head. Binghe's expression was very carefully neutral, but Shen Qingqiu could see the disdain in the flat set of his mouth and the bored look in his eyes.

"Shidi, please stay clear of the fighting," was all he said, then he spun effortlessly back into the main fight.

Shen Qingqiu joined Mei Yan in the tree.

"What were you doing? Are you crazy?" Mei Yan hissed at him as she scooted over to make room. "Also, have you never held a sword before? Even I can swing mine without dropping it!"

"I'm usually better than that," Shen Qingqiu said, sighing. 

Below him, Binghe was finishing off the last of the wolves, his movements confident and graceful as he seamlessly blended Qing Jing elegance with Huan Hua's more straightforward approach. Mei Yan gave him a sympathetic pat on his shoulder. 

"Don't worry about looking bad in front of Luo Binghe," she said. "You never had a shot with him, anyway."

"...Thanks."

"Though because you interrupted his fight, I bet he'll remember your face now! So there's that."

Shen Qingqiu sighed. "Fantastic," he said.

Chapter Text

Luo Binghe hadn't noticed his new, unimpressive shidi at first. His (relatively forgettable) face was just one among many. He had noticed the boy's tendency to stare after him in awe—but that wasn't a particularly remarkable trait. One more lovesick Huan Hua disciple was hardly at the top of his list of concerns.

The boy certainly hadn't improved his first impression—or lack thereof—when he'd dropped his sword during a laughably easy fight on their way to the night hunt. He must not have completed a single lesson to have been so incompetent. Luo Binghe wouldn't be surprised if he'd only joined Huan Hua Palace within the past few days, with this excursion sold to his family as a "joining the sect" perk in exchange for an extra large financial contribution.

What must it be like, living a life like that? Luo Binghe had never had anyone to coddle him to such a ridiculous degree. At least, he didn't think he had.

He touched the fake jade pendant he wore around his neck. Shen Qingqiu seemed to know about his past, and could probably tell him…if Luo Binghe could stomach the man's presence long enough to ask him. 

He didn't think he could. It was bad enough that Shen Qingqiu always looked so pathetically heartbroken every time they talked, but under that was something sharper, more dangerous—a fanatic obsession that was strong enough to persist through rejection and humiliation. It was a bit flattering, and a lot dangerous. Any attention he gave the man, even if it was just to ask a few questions about his past, would only encourage him.

Not that he needed it. Luo Binghe was sure Shen Qingqiu would be showing his face again before long. 

The incompetent shidi made his second bad impression during camp that night. Luo Binghe had gathered everyone around to run them through his plan for the next evening's night hunt, which included Binghe spearheading the attack on the presumed Lion-Faced Cobra while half the group surprised it from behind, hiding until they had a chance to strike at its tail.

"There should be a weak spot near the tip," Binghe said. "That's where it's most vulnerable. If you can pierce its scales there, it'll bleed out, and we'll be able to collect our reward from the villagers and head back to Huan Hua in the morning. Any questions?"

"Um," said the incompetent shidi, ignoring the way the young girl next to him tried to elbow him into silence. "It's just…"

Luo Binghe suppressed an irritated sigh. The Old Palace Master had been very clear about how he was supposed to treat "guest disciples"—with enough dignity that their parents continued their contributions, but without doing anything to endanger their precious skins. "Of course. Mei Yan and—"

He didn't actually know the boy's name. He paused, and his shidi quietly said, "Zheng Yuan."

"Thanks, Zheng-shidi. Mei Yan and Zheng Yuan will play a crucial support role. We need someone to guard the camp supplies and be prepared with food and first aid for when the battle is over." Not that they'd be entirely out of harm's way. With Zheng Yuan's skill with a blade, there was a decent chance he'd hurt himself preparing the vegetables, but that couldn't be helped.

Mei Yan looked relieved—smart girl—but Zheng Yuan fidgeted. "I was actually going to ask about the hunt. What makes you think it's a Lion-Faced Cobra?"

Luo Binghe smiled, because snarling would get him in trouble and he couldn't afford that (not yet, anyway—he'd be head disciple soon, and then Palace Master, and then the rules would change). "Zheng-shidi is so curious! That's a good quality—it'll take you far. But rest assured, I personally reviewed the evidence from the village. The mangled bodies and strange sounds that have been observed there match a Lion-Faced Cobra's description." He turned away, ready to conclude the meeting, when—

"Only, I've read about something like this," Zheng Yuan said. His eyes darted around, taking in the irritated expressions of the other disciples as they started to grumble, but he doggedly pressed on. "In the…historical archive I was looking through, it mentioned a case where a Night-Born Blood Wraith happened to mimic the signs that would normally point to a Lion-Faced Cobra. So that's a thing that can happen sometimes! And we're not strong enough to take on one of those. Maybe we should scout the location out first?"

Luo Binghe's smile was beginning to grow strained. This kid had only just joined, and already thought he knew better than his seniors? "Night-Born Blood Wraiths are rare creatures—so rare, in fact, that they only occur once every five hundred years. It's unusual to come across a mention of one, much less come across one itself. Lion-Faced Cobras, on the other hand, are common in this region."

"But—"

"Just worry about not overcooking dinner!" someone called, and Zheng Yuan's face flushed.

"I just—"

"It's time for bed," Luo Binghe said, cutting him off. "Everyone, get some rest. We have a tough fight tomorrow." He paused, eyeing Zheng Yuan. "Well. Some of us do."

Zheng Yuan was antsy the entire next day. For the most part Luo Binghe could ignore it. The kid stuck to the back of the group, and other than Mei Yan becoming visibly irritated with his fidgeting, his strange mood didn't affect Luo Binghe. At least, it didn't, until the boy had the gall to try and broach the topic with him again. 

"Scouting ahead would be quick and easy! I could do it for you!" Zheng Yuan said desperately. He'd ridden his horse up next to Binghe, interrupting his conversation, and now both Fang-shimei and the Little Palace Mistress were glaring daggers at him. 

"No," said Luo Binghe. If one of the rich kids died, the Old Palace Master would give him no end of grief about it.

"I'd be fast! I could—"

"He said no," the Little Palace Mistress snapped.

"But without, say, a superpowered sword, we don't stand a chance against—"

"That's enough," said Luo Binghe. "Zheng-shidi, I don't care who your parents are. If you continue to pester me with this, I'm going to tie you up and gag you."

That got Zheng Yuan to shut up, though he continued to look twitchy for the rest of the day, and presumably into the night as Binghe and the group left him and Mei Yan behind at camp while they headed off to deal with the Lion-Faced Cobra.

Or, as it turned out, to deal with a Night-Born Blood Wraith.

The first sign that something was wrong was the sudden chill that swept through the night air. Binghe paused as his breath became suddenly visible in front of him, and around him the other disciples hesitated, startled at the shift. 

"What's going on?" hissed the Little Palace Mistress, looking frantically around as the unearthly howls (which they'd been tracking to what Binghe had thought was the cobra's den) grew louder, surrounding them and multiplying until several disciples dropped to the ground and clutched at their ears. Blood began to pour from the weaker ones' noses…and then from their ears, and their eyes.

"It's a Night-Born Blood Wraith," Luo Binghe said through gritted teeth as he drew his sword. Zheng Yuan was going to be insufferable—but that was the least of his problems. 

Luo Binghe had only read about Blood Wraiths once, in a passing mention in… someone's library. He couldn't quite recall the exact book, or who'd owned it, but he knew these creatures were incredibly dangerous. Too dangerous for a group of disciples to handle on their own, but it was also too late for them to retreat. The air began to crackle with resentful energy, and then the wraith was in front of them, stolen blood streaming over its red skin and hair, and dripping from its tattered robes.

Under all that blood it was humanoid…ish. It was tall—almost three times as high as the average person, but no wider, giving it strangely stretched out proportions. At the sight of their group, its jaw opened (unnaturally far, like a snake about to swallow a rat) and it shrieked, sending a pulse of energy slamming through the air.

The pulse alone was enough to knock out a decent number of the disciples, and stun even more, leaving them defenseless as it dropped to all fours and prowled closer, its limbs bending at unnatural angles, its jaw still open. 

Luo Binghe might not remember most of his past, but he felt like he had a pretty good grasp of his own abilities. He knew he was stronger than his peers—stronger, even, than many of his teachers…but he wasn't stronger than this. At least, not without a spiritual weapon, which he hadn't had a chance to claim yet.

But what could he do? He hadn't read about it having a weak point, but perhaps it did. Perhaps he could find it. 

What other option did he have?

He sent out a quick sword glare, aiming at its open mouth as it approached one of the unconscious disciples. The attack hit, splintering the bone of its jaw—

And making it very, very angry, judging by the way the air went dark and heavy around him.

He raised his sword to send another glare, but before he could finish the motion the wraith's form blurred, and then it was standing right in front of him, towering over him. From this close he could smell it—rotten and bloody and wet.

The first swipe of its clawed fingers missed him—barely—as he threw himself into a roll. 

The second swipe did not. It followed on the first, lightning fast, striking him in the chest and stomach and sending him crashing into a nearby tree before he'd even had the chance to get back to his feet.

"Luo-gege!" The Little Palace Mistress, for all her faults, wasn't a coward. She darted forward and struck out with her whip, wrapping it around the wraith's neck. But the wraith screamed again, and the razor-sharp edge of pain that was now in its voice was powerful enough to snap the Little Palace Mistress' whip into a dozen pieces and send her scrambling backwards. 

She'd at least bought him a few moments to stand up and put some distance between himself and the wraith, perhaps enough to get off another sword glare or two. But it wouldn't be enough. The claw marks on Binghe's chest were deep—so deep that he'd need to really worry about them, assuming he lived long enough to get that privilege. Right now, they were slowing him down and making him weak.

And then, because things weren't hopeless enough, Zheng Yuan appeared.

The stupid, ridiculous boy threw himself in front of Luo Binghe, as if to shield him with his little frail body—and to what end? He'd clearly been reading too many romantic adventure novels. He didn't have the strength to even slow the wraith down. It'd tear him in half, meaning that even if Luo Binghe survived this somehow, the Old Palace Master was going to make him wish he hadn't.  

"Get out of here," Luo Binghe snapped—or tried to. His chest wounds had filled his lungs and throat with blood. 

Zheng Yuan drew his blade, ignoring him. Or, possibly, not understanding his almost unintelligible gurgle. It didn't matter which it was, because the Blood Wraith was advancing again, its boney arms swinging at Zheng Yuan, who raised his sword and—

Blocked the attack?

Binghe blinked, wondering for a moment if the blood loss had confused his mind, but no. Zheng Yuan had blocked the attack, and was moving forward to make one of his own and oh—that was not novice footwork, and those were not Huan Hua sword forms.

His suspicions were confirmed when a cloud of knife-sharp leaves joined the battle, darting in to slice through the wraith as Zheng Yuan continued to hound it with powerful, elegant strikes from his blade—a blade that very obviously wasn't the standard issue blade Zheng Yuan had been holding yesterday. That was Xiu Ya, shimmering as it was pulled back to deliver the final blow.

And then, strangely, the powerful qi that was emanating from Zheng Yuan—no, from Shen Qingqiu—faltered. The powerful sword strike he had aimed at the wraith's heart bounced harmlessly off of its chest. The leaves that had been darting around, keeping the wraith pinned in place, began to flutter harmlessly to the ground.

"Oh," said Shen Qingqiu. "Hm."

The wraith seemed almost as startled by the lack of follow through as Shen Qingqiu was. It hesitated for a moment—but only for a moment. When Shen Qingqiu continued to just stand there, still carefully positioned between it and Luo Binghe, it gathered itself to lunge. 

Sitting back and watching it tear Shen Qingqiu to shreds would solve Luo Binghe's stalker problem, but…the man had just risked his life to save him. Luo Binghe was beside Shen Qingqiu in the next breath, his blade in the wraith's chest, and the fight was over.

Shen Qingqiu's little fourteen year old shoulders slumped in relief. Then he looked at Luo Binghe, and froze.

"Hello again, Senior Shen," Luo Binghe said, sighing.

But Shen Qingqiu wasn't looking at his face. His eyes were fixed on Binghe's torso, staring at the wounds the wraith had given him.

…Or staring at where the wounds had been. When Binghe looked down, the deep gashes that he'd been sure he could see organs through only moments before were now thin scratches, hardly worth putting a bandage on.

Had the excitement of the battle gone to his head, causing him to imagine them as worse than they were? It didn't seem likely, especially given how much blood was soaking his clothing. 

But Shen Qingqiu hadn't gotten a good look at his injuries earlier in the fight, and there was nothing much to see there now, which meant…

"Senior Shen truly is shameless," Luo Binghe said darkly, tugging a few tattered scraps of robe back over his body.

Shen Qingqiu, lecher that he was, hardly seemed to hear him. He continued to stare at Luo Binghe's mostly exposed chest and stomach, even reaching out to try and tug Binghe's robes open further.

That was a bit too far, even from someone who had just saved his life. Luo Binghe stepped back and knocked Shen Qingqiu's hand aside. "Touch me again and you'll lose your hand," he snapped.

Shen Qingqiu seemed to come back to himself at that, but he still looked distracted. "Binghe," he said slowly. "When did you get that tattoo?"

Luo Binghe glanced down at his tattoo. Its lines had been momentarily disrupted by the wraith's gashes, but they'd reconnected when he'd healed, reforming the intricate overlapping circles and script that decorated his stomach.

"This? It's always been there," Luo Binghe said. "Hasn't it?"

"...No," said Shen Qingqiu, his eyes still locked on the apparently-new markings. "It hasn't."

Binghe took a break from reviving disciples to sit down and run his fingers over the remnants of his robes, tracing the lines of the tattoo through the cloth. 

So. This was new. 

That was…interesting. 

And suspicious. As was his own mind's reluctance to think about the tattoo for too long. And then there was his strange ability to heal...

It all warranted further investigation…later, once he'd dealt with the tattered remains of his night hunt and gotten rid of his persistent, unwanted guest.

Most of the disciples were back on their feet, and the ones that weren't were being tended to by the people who hadn't actually been involved in the fighting. Shen Qingqiu hovered awkwardly nearby, still in his Huan Hua disciple disguise. Whispers were spreading through the group as the disciples who'd been conscious for the fight began to tell the ones who hadn't about what had happened. Even those who'd been too far away to hear Luo Binghe call Shen Qingqiu by his name knew that something strange was going on.

"Senior Shen should head back to Cang Qiong Mountain," Luo Binghe said when Shen Qingqiu approached him.

"...Right," Shen Qingqiu said. He didn't make any move to walk away, or to step onto his sword.

"Well?" 

"About that." Shen Qingqiu grimaced, then pulled a talisman out of his sleeve and held it out to Luo Binghe. "I'm having some…cultivation difficulties at the moment. This will call Liu Qingge to come get me, if Binghe would be so kind as to power it." He looked embarrassed at the request, his eyes only meeting Luo Binghe's for a moment before darting away—which could mean that he was telling the truth, and not just stalling to spend more time with Luo Binghe. 

Or it could be that he was even more shameless than Luo Binghe had given him credit for, but after Shen Qingqiu's near-death earlier at the hands of the wraith, Luo Binghe was inclined to believe him—about this, at least. 

The whispering around them intensified as Luo Binghe took the talisman and activated it with a small burst of qi. He could imagine what was going through their heads: how could someone strong enough to defeat a Night-Born Blood Wraith not be able to power a simple talisman? He wanted to know the answer as well. 

There was too much about Shen Qingqiu that didn't make sense, such as:

"If you're so powerless, what's maintaining your disguise?" Luo Binghe asked.

Shen Qingqiu sighed, then rummaged in his sleeve again for a moment before producing another paper talisman, this one already shimmering with power. "This," he said. When Luo Binghe put out his hand, Shen Qingqiu reluctantly handed it over.

It was a work of art, carefully painted with an intricate and powerful inscription. It couldn't have been fast or easy to make.

"You prepared and powered this in advance," Luo Binghe said, turning it over in his hands. "Senior Shen must have spent quite some time on this. And all to get closer to me? I suppose I should be flattered."

And he was, in a way. Shen Qingqiu wasn't an unattractive man, though that didn't mean much. Luo Binghe had no shortage of beautiful suitors to choose from. Risking his life to save Luo Binghe, though…

That was a little less common. 

Had Luo Binghe ever had anyone willing to sacrifice so much for him? If he had, he couldn't remember.

"I'm just trying to help return your memories—and I think that tattoo might hold the answers," Shen Qingqiu said. He eyed Binghe's hands nervously as Binghe continued to play with the talisman. "Just don't—"

Binghe tore it in half.

The transformation was instant. In a heartbeat the young Zheng Yuan had been replaced by the tall, graceful figure of Shen Qingqiu…

Who was now wearing clothing far too small for him. 

The robes, it seemed, had been very real, and now were very, very ripped.

There was a chorus of gasps around them, and some frightened and angry shouts as it became clear who'd been in their midst this whole time. Then the ridiculousness of the situation fully set in. 

This was the great Xiu Ya sword…in tattered, too small Huan Hua robes, his hair a mess, his boots and socks shredded around his feet. Luo Binghe didn't start the laughter that swept through the group, but he didn't stop himself from joining in on it, either.

Shen Qingqiu pulled out a fan to cover his face—and the fan was beautiful, which only made the whole ensemble more ridiculous—but not before Binghe saw him flush red. 

Unfortunately for Shen Qingqiu, it seemed like his blush extended beyond his face. Binghe watched as his neck and chest turned a delicate pink, and there really was a ridiculous amount of skin on display, wasn't there? Most of Shen Qingqiu's torso was now exposed, as were his calves and forearms, and even from here Luo Binghe could see the seams of his pants straining and giving way as they struggled to cover his muscular thighs. 

It took a will of iron not to let his gaze linger on the now-exposed muscles and tantalizingly flushed skin. Binghe could offer Shen Qingqiu his outer robe, but he wasn't going to, for the same reason he wouldn't wave steak in front of a starving dog. 

"...I have a spare robe in my qiankun bag," Shen Qingqiu said, after a few moments. "I'll just…cover up…"

"You do that," Binghe said, then turned away. Shen Qingqiu wasn't exactly a hardship to look at—but that was the problem, wasn't it? Any stray glances from Binghe would only encourage the poor man. 

It took most of the night to revive all the disciples and gather the valuable parts from the remains of the Blood Wraith (which, infuriatingly, Shen Qingqiu had tried to assist with, seemingly unable to help himself from pointing out errors in their processing techniques, or missed opportunities in their harvesting). By the time they made it back to camp, it was almost morning, and Mei Yan looked like she was about to qi deviate from sheer anxiety. 

"Zheng Yuan?" she said, hurrying over as soon as she saw them, her eyes frantically scanning the exhausted crowd of disciples. "Is…is Zheng Yuan…?"

"Mei Yan, meet Zheng Yuan. The real Zheng Yuan," Luo Binghe said, gesturing at Shen Qingqiu. He watched with amusement as her eyes went wide, taking in the bedraggled Peak Lord. There hadn't been any opportunity for Shen Qingqiu to fully strip and redress himself, and so the tattered remnants of his Huan Hua robe still showed, peeking out from the collar of his outer robe. 

"My apologies for the deception," Shen Qingqiu said to her quietly. Then, turning to Luo Binghe, "And for invading your privacy once again."

"Apologies carry more weight if you intend to change your behavior," Binghe said mildly, then retreated to his tent to see to his wounds. 

He knew before looking that they would be gone. He'd been able to feel them healing on the walk back, but it was still shocking to look at where the deep gashes had been only earlier that night, and see nothing but smooth skin. They wouldn't even need a bandage—and Luo Binghe's cultivation was good, but it wasn't that good.

He bandaged them anyway. Everyone had seen his shredded, bloody robes. It would be too strange if he wasn't wounded at all. 

"Does Luo-gege need help?" The Little Palace Mistress was peeking into his tent, looking over his exposed torso in what could have been mistaken for sympathy if it wasn't for the hungry gleam in her eyes. 

Luo Binghe leaned forward and opened the tent flap further. He could see Shen Qingqiu watching him from across the camp, frowning at the way the Little Palace Mistress was pressing into his space. 

Would seeing him with the Little Palace Mistress help drive home the point that Luo Binghe had moved on? Or would it only ignite Shen Qingqiu's jealousy? 

He could only hope for the former, though a small, needy part of him wondered, whispering—would it be so terrible if Shen Qingqiu's jealousy was piqued? There were worse fates than being pursued by someone who loved Luo Binghe enough to risk life and limb for him.

"I do need help, actually," he said to the Little Palace Mistress, moving aside to allow her in. He caught Shen Qingqiu's eyes, and smiled, then let the tent flap close.

Luo Binghe's entire life (or as much of it as he could remember) had been plagued by strange fluctuations in his qi. These were often accompanied by intense urges to kill, to conquer, to fuck. Luckily there had been no shortage of opportunities to do so at Huan Hua, with plenty of night hunts and willing bodies to help him. He didn't feel that urge now—the Blood Wraith's death had appeased whatever dark part of him longed for such things—but the memory of Shen Qingqiu's skin lingered. It had been so delicately flushed, and close that he could have reached out and touched.  

Luo Binghe hadn't, because he'd known the kind of trouble that would be courting. As alluring as Shen Qingqiu was, accepting his affection wasn't a decision to make casually—the man was a Peak Lord, and was too powerful (and too obsessive) to toy with. If he gave Shen Qingqiu even the slightest hint that his interest was returned, then Luo Binghe would be saddled with him for life, and Shen Qingqiu didn't strike him as the sort of man who was willing to share. 

Still, that desire to touch continued to simmer low and hot in his belly. 

The Little Palace Mistress was unpleasant, but over the past few months she'd proven to be one of his more energetic bed partners, which was exactly what he needed right now. Whatever this was—whatever made the sight of Shen Qingqiu's body so hard to get out of his head—was going to take more than one round to get rid of, he could already tell.

Luo Binghe woke to the sound of shouting. 

"Don't bother him! He didn't do anything wrong," he heard Shen Qingqiu say. "He saved my life! Let's just go."

"He's spreading rumors about you," said another voice—Liu Qingge, if Luo Binghe wasn't mistaken. Luo Binghe barely had time to pull his robes closed before his tent was being yanked open.

The Little Palace Mistress shrieked, pulling the covers over herself and reaching for her whip. To his credit, Liu Qingge seemed equally shocked, staring in disbelief at both her and Luo Binghe for a moment before turning a brilliant shade of red. "Shameless!" he spluttered, glaring at Binghe, then turned and stormed out of the tent.

When Luo Binghe finished getting dressed and came outside, it was to the sight of Liu Qingge sitting on a fallen log next to Shen Qingqiu, his hand softly cradling the other man's wrist as he…did something. Passed him qi, probably, which meant Shen Qingqiu's performance issues the previous night really had been more than just a show. 

The sight of someone else touching Shen Qingqiu's skin, of holding his hand so gently, made that dark part of Luo Binghe want to start killing things again.

The Huan Hua disciples around the camp were giving the pair of Peak Lords space, but everyone was watching. Luo Binghe shot them a few pointed looks, and there was a brief flurry of activity as everyone ducked back into tents, or hurried off to find firewood, or found something on the other side of the camp that urgently needed tending to.

"What's wrong with your cultivation?" Luo Binghe asked, walking up to them.

"It's nothing," said Shen Qingqiu.

"Why do you care?" snapped Liu Qingge. His cheeks still held a hint of flush from earlier, and when he looked up at Luo Binghe, his eyes were accusing. He looked as if Luo Binghe had betrayed Shen Qingqiu—though whether by staying at Huan Hua, or sleeping with someone else, or both, it wasn't clear.

"I don't care," said Luo Binghe, shrugging. "I'm just curious."

"It's a poison. It disrupts my qi unless it gets cleared every so often. That's all," said Shen Qingqiu with a small smile.  

That was all? A poison that permanently weakened Shen Qingqiu's cultivation, that made the very thing he'd dedicated his life to achieving into something unreliable, was no small matter. It could be deadly in a fight, and it could mean ascension was no longer within his reach. It was no wonder Luo Binghe hadn't heard about it—Cang Qiong Mountain would want to keep a weakness like this under wraps. That Shen Qingqiu was admitting to it now was…surprising.

'"It's just a poison'—that you took to save him," Liu Qingge said, still glaring at Luo Binghe. 

"What do you mean?" Was last night not the first time Shen Qingqiu had risked his life for Luo Binghe? Was this a regular thing for them? 

"He threw himself in front of a demon and got poisoned so that you wouldn't," Liu Qingge said. "Or did your new Shizun not share that story?"

The Old Palace Master had shared that story. He'd spoken of how Shen Qingqiu had volunteered Luo Binghe for a fight that would kill him, and then theatrically swooped in at the last minute to save the day. Other accounts from the event had supported that story, though none had mentioned that Shen Qingqiu had apparently permanently sacrificed his cultivation for Luo Binghe in the process.

It could be a lie—an exaggeration to endear Shen Qingqiu to Luo Binghe, but…

Luo Binghe thought back to Shen Qingqiu throwing himself between Binghe and the Blood Wraith, and felt his chest go tight. Liu Qingge's story sounded believable. That meant that Shen Qingqiu's heroics last night hadn't just been a spur of the moment decision. He'd chosen to save Luo Binghe, over and over, even if it cost him everything.

"Liu-shidi, that's enough." Shen Qingqiu grimaced. "I think my meridians are clear. Let's head back."

Liu Qingge nodded, but he was slow to stand, slow to ready his sword for flight—so slow, in fact, that Shen Qingqiu was in the air before him, leaving Liu Qingge and Luo Binghe momentarily alone.

"The story you're telling is a lie," Liu Qingge said as he stepped onto his blade. "The one where he confesses his feelings to you, and you reject him. That didn't happen."

"Oh? You were there, were you?" Luo Binghe frowned at Liu Qingge, who returned it with force.

"No. But I saw how you looked at him, how you followed him around."

"How I looked at him?"  

"Yes. Your feelings were obvious." Liu Qingge turned and began to leave, calling out over his shoulder, "That's how I know your story is a lie. If Shen Qingqiu had asked for your love, you would have said 'yes.'"

Luo Binghe knew his own faults well. He was overly ambitious, and bloodthirsty, and lustful. His heart was selfish and cold, though he hid it well. He held onto grudges too tightly, and for too long.

But being lovesick? It was impossible to imagine, but the way Liu Qingge had described him made him sound like he'd been following Shen Qingqiu around like…well, like Shen Qingqiu was following him around. It made him sound pathetic, and foolish.

Surely Liu Qingge was lying. 

He had to be lying.

"He wasn't lying," said Ning Yingying, her eyes sad. When Luo Binghe had gotten back to Huan Hua Palace, he'd had multiple serious issues to investigate—his strange healing powers, and his new tattoo, and if either tied into his memory loss. And yet, the first thing he'd done was corner Gongyi Xiao and pester him until he gave Luo Binghe a name that he could contact on Qing Jing Peak, someone he'd apparently been close to at the conference. He'd sent a letter off that same day proposing a secret meeting, and Ning Yingying had agreed.

When he walked into the tea shop and saw her, he'd assumed they'd been lovers. She was pretty enough, and the way she'd lit up at his entrance and called him "A-Luo!" wasn't unlike how he was treated by the girls at Huan Hua. And so he'd smiled back, and let his hug linger a little too long, and grasped her hands when they sat at their table. This was a dance he'd learned well, and it was comfortable in its familiarity.

But Ning Yingying had stared at him, horrified, when he'd leaned in and brushed her hair out of her face, letting his hand caress her neck and ear.

"What are you doing?" she'd asked, jerking back.

"Were we not…?"

"Of course not!" She'd looked at him like he'd grown a second head. "I'd heard you didn't remember, but could you really have forgotten Shizun?"

"...I have. Liu Qingge says I was fond of him."

The story Ning Yingying launched into was eerily close to what Liu Qingge had so briefly described: he'd been the perfect disciple, one whose devotion to his Shizun was only matched by his Shizun's to him. He'd never so much as looked at another person, and when they separated, his past self would moon endlessly over Shen Qingqiu until they could be reunited.

"I sound insufferable," he said, and Ning Yingying shrugged. It wasn't a "no."

"It was sweet," she said. "Kind of. For short periods of time, anyway." 

Luo Binghe couldn't wrap his head around it. "But…if I cared so much for him, and him for me, then why would I leave?"

"I don't know." Ning Yingying looked a bit like she might cry. "But you have to come back. He's been so sad and so lost without you. And now these rumors…you're hurting him, A-Luo. You'd never want to hurt him. Even if you don't remember him, surely some part of you misses him? Surely some part of you feels empty?"

All of Luo Binghe felt empty. How could he not? He had no past, no family, no friends, no anchor, no home.

But once, apparently, he'd been loved, and had loved in turn. Shen Qingqiu cared enough to risk his life for Binghe—not just once, but multiple times, and had sacrificed his cultivation for him! And if what Ning Yingying and Liu Qingge said was true, then Binghe had returned his affections in earnest. 

It sounded too good to be true. It probably was. But despite his better judgment, the hope burned at him. 

Who wouldn't want a love like that?

And more importantly, if he'd had it, who had taken it away from him?

"...I'll consider coming back," he said slowly. "Eventually. There are questions I need answers to, and I think I'll find them at Huan Hua. For now, tell me everything about my time with Shen Qingqiu."

"Ah, it's so weird to hear you call him by his name," Ning Yingying sighed. She hesitated, then reached into her sleeve and pulled out a small, well-worn book. "I probably shouldn't be giving this to you, but…have you ever heard of the Regret of Chunshan?"

Chapter Text

The Huan Hua library didn't hold the answers to Luo Binghe's tattoo or his healing powers. He wasn't foolish enough to ask the Old Palace Master any of his questions directly, but the old man noticed something was off almost immediately.

"Binghe seems tired recently," he said in one of their weekly meetings.

Luo Binghe nodded. "This disciple has been up late reading."

It wasn't a lie. He'd spent every night since his meeting with Ning Yingying reading (and rereading) Regret of Chunshan. 

It couldn't all be true. Luo Binghe was worldly enough to recognize the inaccuracies in some of his and Shen Qingqiu's love scenes. There were parts of it that were certainly embellished, if not made up whole-cloth. For starters, it had Shen Qingqiu eagerly crawling into his bed during their Jin Lan City reunion, waking him up and welcoming him back with his body, which definitely hadn't happened. Still…

He couldn't stop himself from returning to its pages each night, reading scene after scene of Shen Qingqiu writhing beneath him, calling out his name, loving him. It was impossible not to picture Shen Qingqiu's delicate full-body blush when he read the descriptions of their love-making, or to hear Shen Qingqiu's soft voice calling out the words of pleasure and affection written so shamelessly in those pages.

Was any of it true? Luo Binghe didn't know, couldn't remember, and it was killing him.

"Don't push yourself too hard," the Old Palace Master said, his voice kindly as he reached out to pat Luo Binghe's hand. Luo Binghe's skin crawled—and this was what he'd thought Shen Qingqiu had been to him, but he'd had it all wrong, hadn't he? "You're already being promoted to head disciple. There's no need to overwork yourself at this point. I admire your thirst for knowledge, but you must temper that with taking care of yourself."

Luo Binghe had certainly been taking care of himself quite a bit recently, what with all his nightly readings. "Of course," he said. "Thanking the Palace Master for his wisdom."

His promotion to head disciple was celebrated with the excessive extravagance that all Huan Hua events received. The party lasted all day and well into the night, and when it was over, the celebrating disciples simply moved over to the nearby town to continue drinking at the local inn. Luo Binghe joined them with a cheerful smile on his face, because it was what he was expected to do.

The alcohol didn't affect him as strongly as it did others—another thing to look into—but he wasn't immune. As the night progressed and the wine continued to flow, more and more Huan Hua disciples either retired to the rooms upstairs or slumped unconscious at the tables where they sat, and Luo Binghe's head grew pleasantly fuzzy and unfocused. By the time he staggered upstairs himself, he was tipsy enough that he almost thought he was imagining the familiar voice coming from a nearby room.

But no—he wasn't imagining it, and there was no mistaking it, either. 

Shen Qingqiu was in the building. 

He was whispering to someone, his voice low as he hissed, "You hack author, it didn't work."

"What didn't work?" The answering voice was small and echoey, as if the person was speaking from a distance. Luo Binghe had heard something similar when the Old Palace Master used a Huan Hua communication array to give orders to senior disciples working abroad. The array's very existence was supposed to be a sect secret. Shen Qingqiu shouldn't even know such a thing was possible, and yet not only did he know of it, he'd managed to create one of his own.

Who was this man? Luo Binghe crept closer to the room, doing his best to keep his footsteps light and his qi hidden. The wine had made him unsteady, but Shen Qingqiu was too distracted to notice any missteps he made. 

"The Bloom of Secret Desire! I stewed its petals perfectly, and used one of Luo Binghe's hairs to target the effect, but it didn't work." 

"Wait, the Bloom of Secret Desire? The one that allows you to take the form that someone desires most? That's the disguise you chose?"

"You didn't see him at the campsite!" Shen Qingqiu snapped. "He and the Little Palace Mistress went into his tent together, and I'm sure she got a great look at his tattoo."

"Among other things," the other voice said, snickering.

"My point is: if I could be that for him, then I could inspect the tattoo from up close! And then I'd pretend to be too nervous to continue, and Binghe, being the gentleman that he is, would escort me back to my room, and—"

"And you've spent a lot of time thinking about seducing Luo Binghe," said the voice. Luo Binghe could practically hear the eyebrow waggle.

Luo Binghe slowly, gently pushed the door open. Inside was Shen Qingqiu, pacing back and forth while talking into a jade token with the array etched into it. He looked frustrated, and flustered, his cheeks tinged pink.

"It's not like that!" Shen Qingqiu said. Then, more quietly, "I had the perfect clothes picked out and everything. But I made the stupid petal tea and added his hair and there was a surge of power and then: nothing. I still look like me!"

There was a heavy sigh from the other end of the communication array. "Oh, bro," the man said. "You really never saw how he looked at you? He—okay. So, I'm not going to hold your hand as I say this, because you're really far away, but—"

"Senior Shen could still wear those clothes if he wants," Luo Binghe purred, stepping into the room. He could see the women's robes laid out on the bed behind Shen Qingqiu in preparation for his transformation.

The image of the stoic and refined Xiu Ya blade draped in delicate, flowery silk, leaning towards him and flirting, trying to get close enough to Luo Binghe to remove his robes—

Well. He could guess why the Bloom of Secret Desire hadn't changed anything. 

Shen Qingqiu was too dignified to shriek, but he did let out a loud, strangled gasp at Luo Binghe's sudden appearance. "Binghe!"

"Oh! Yeah, okay, I don't need to hear where this is going," said the voice coming from the tablet, laughing nervously. "Just don't get so distracted that you forget to look at the tattoo as well, okay? And good luck, bro!" 

The sound coming from the jade token cut out, and then it was just him and Shen Qingqiu alone in the bedroom. Shen Qingqiu's eyes were wide, and were darting around looking for an exit, making him seem more like a cornered rabbit than an immortal cultivator. 

Did that make Luo Binghe a wolf? He certainly felt like he was stalking his prey as he slunk further into the room and Shen Qingqiu retreated. 

There was a part of him that was screaming that this was a mistake, that initiating a romance with Shen Qingqiu would only make his own life miserable. Wouldn't he have to give up all his Huan Hua lovers? Wouldn't he be stuck with Shen Qingqiu forever? And forever, for an immortal, was a very, very long time.

The thought was terrifying…and fascinating. 

Another part of Luo Binghe—a softer part, the part that curled up around Regret of Chunshan at night and dreamed of being so loved—whispered that it might be nice to have the very thing that scared him so much. That part of himself was usually easy to ignore, but it had gotten louder since his and Shen Qingqiu's last meeting. 

The alcohol wasn't helping, only seeming to amplify his pathetic yearning for affection.

He took another step forward. 

Shen Qingqiu took another step back. His knees hit the bed, and he glanced behind him, his face paling as he realized what was on full display. 

"This isn't what it looks like," he said, quickly brushing the women's clothing into a pile as if to hide what it was from Luo Binghe. "I wasn't going to—"

"Wear it to seduce me? You were, though. There's no use in lying. I heard your conversation." 

Luo Binghe grinned, and Shen Qingqiu's face crumpled. He looked miserable, and no—that wasn't right, that wasn't what Luo Binghe wanted. He wanted him to blush, to fidget, to squirm with that deliciously bullied look on his face that made Luo Binghe's gut go hot. But actual fear? He frowned as Shen Qingqiu began to edge towards the room's open window.

Luo Binghe watched him, a cold pit beginning to form in his stomach. Shen Qingqiu hadn't hesitated to put his life on the line to protect Luo Binghe, and yet he clearly anticipated rejection, even retribution. And why wouldn't he? Luo Binghe had made it clear that he was unwelcome. But Shen Qingqiu continued to return, continued to drag his tattered reputation through the mud and risk his own skin to help Luo Binghe, all while expecting nothing but more pain and hate for his trouble. 

Words from Regret of Chunshan echoed back to him in Shen Qingqiu's voice. "I love you, Binghe," he'd whispered, stroking Binghe's hair while holding him close after a near-fatal fight at the Immortal Alliance Conference. "I thought I was going to lose you, and I can't—I just can't, Binghe." His voice had broken, and he'd held Binghe tighter, careful not to jostle his wounds. "Please. I'll stand by you forever, just don't risk yourself like that again. You mean more to me than life itself."

Had that actually happened? Shen Qingqiu knew the answer to that—and Luo Binghe needed to as well. He reached out, intending to grab Shen Qingqiu's sleeve and halt his retreat.

But it was too much, too fast. Shen Qingqiu flinched back from him, then threw himself desperately towards the window. Luo Binghe moved to intercept him, to grab him and drag him back and beg for answers to the questions that wouldn't stop swirling around his head. 

Or, at least, that had been the plan.

His mind was still fuzzy from the wine, and as he lunged forward, he stumbled. He should have been able to easily catch himself. He shouldn't have stumbled in the first place! But as he wobbled, the room spun even more, and he felt himself begin to fall.

"Binghe?"

He needed to move his hands, to brace himself before he hit the ground, but the very alcohol that had tripped him was now slowing his reactions. He was going to fall flat on his face, like a child or a drunkard. Worse, he was going to do so right in front of Shen Qingqiu, who was halfway-out the window and watching with wide eyes as Luo Binghe collapsed.  

The floorboards rose up to meet him, filling his vision, and then—

Hands grabbed his shoulders. They slowed his fall, gently redirecting him so that he landed on his knees instead.

"Binghe!" Shen Qinqiu said, and he was kneeling next to Luo Binghe now, his escape apparently forgotten in his panic. "Binghe, what's wrong? Are you hurt?"

Shen Qingqiu's face was close—so close that Luo Binghe could practically count his eyelashes, could feel his soft breath as he frantically looked Luo Binghe over, checking for any sign of injury. His hands began to move, patting over Binghe's back and sides as if checking to make sure that Binghe was still in one piece. 

"Binghe, say something! Is it your cultivation? Are you in pain?"

His touches weren't sensual—they were rushed and worried—but Binghe still felt like his skin was on fire. Everywhere Shen Qingqiu touched burned with need. Luo Binghe sighed at the sweet agony of it as Shen Qingqiu grabbed his wrist, and a cool wave of qi swept through his meridians.

"Your qi is unbalanced, but not dangerously so. I don't sense anything that would weaken you like this. Is it…is it the tattoo?"

Luo Binghe couldn't do anything but clutch at Shen Qingqiu's robes and whine as Shen Qingqiu's fingers began to scrabble at his belt and pull open his robes.

And then Shen Qingqiu's hands were on his flesh, tentatively tracing the lines of the tattoo on his stomach. "Is it hurting you?" he asked, his fingers gently stroking Luo Binghe's skin. Luo Binghe gasped, and at the sound Shen Qingqiu jerked back.

"Senior Shen," Luo Binghe pleaded, his voice hoarse. 

At his words, Shen Qingqiu froze. "Binghe, your breath…" He sniffed the air, then gave Luo Binghe an incredulous look. "Wait, are you drunk?"

This hadn't been how Luo Binghe had planned on keeping Shen Qingqiu in the room, but it worked. He threw himself forward into Shen Qingqiu's lap and wrapped his arms around Shen Qingqiu's waist. The new position pressed Luo Binghe's face into the soft green fabric of his stomach, and the gentle smell of tea and bamboo filled his nose.

For a moment he was able to rest his head, and the room stopped spinning so quickly. 

It felt…safe. Soft. And a bit sensual. He nuzzled closer.

"Binghe…?" A hand on his hair gently pulled him back, and wide, confused eyes stared down at him.

At the sight of that beautiful face staring down at him in concern, Luo Binghe's earlier question returned to him. "Senior Shen," he said. "Is any of Regret of Chunshan true?"

"What?"

There was honest confusion in Shen Qingqiu's face. He must not have read it yet. "Were we in love?" he clarified. 

"What!" Shen Qingqiu recoiled—or tried to. Luo Binghe didn't let go of his waist. "I already said I didn't—"

"I was crass when I first brought it up. I didn't understand," Luo Binghe said quickly. "I implied that Senior Shen acted inappropriately. But if it was me that had feelings—"

"Binghe, no!" Shen Qingqiu was turning an alarming shade of red. "You didn't—! We never—! You weren't attracted to me!"

That seemed unlikely. "Is that what I told you when I rejected your confession? That doesn't make any sense." Especially now that he knew more about Shen Qingqiu. In fact…"Why would I reject you at all?"

"Because you don't like men!"

Luo Binghe thought about it. "...No, that's not it." 

Shen Qingqiu made a strange choking noise.

In Regret of Chunshan, Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu had been lovers before the Immortal Alliance Conference, but had kept their relationship a secret because of how scandalous it would be for a master to be caught sleeping with his disciple. Shen Qingqiu proclaimed his love at the conference after they barely survived an especially brutal fight—and he was almost overheard! It was then that Luo Binghe decided that the only way to keep his beloved Shizun's reputation intact was to leave him. Then, of course, his amnesia had hit, and the series had taken a turn for the tragic, painting a heartbreaking picture of Shen Qingqiu as the devoted lover who was under attack by the person he cared for the most.

Luo Binghe wanted to believe it, but he knew himself well enough to be certain that he wouldn't have run off for that reason, not when he'd be leaving behind something so precious, and not when there were other solutions available. But Liu Qingge was also right—if Shen Qingqiu had confessed his feelings for the first time at the Immortal Alliance Conference, Luo Binghe wouldn't have rejected him.

So what had really happened to drive him away?

He couldn't imagine that he'd left voluntarily—and suddenly, he was sure that he hadn't. It felt like a yawning void was opening under his feet, and the memories weren't there, but something bad was. Whatever had happened, it had been terrible, he felt certain of it. And why would he want to remember that, to dwell on that, when Shen Qingqiu was right here, right now, in his arms? 

"Binghe, what do you mean?" Shen Qingqiu spluttered, squirming in his grasp. "I think maybe whatever erased your memories has confused you…"

Luo Binghe supposed that, after so long of pushing Shen Qingqiu away at every opportunity, it was only natural that he'd hesitate to accept Luo Binghe's sudden closeness. And wasn't that tragic? It was obvious from his obsessive behavior that Shen Qingqiu was madly in love with him, but even with Luo Binghe in his lap, clinging to him, he wasn't sure of his welcome. 

That was fine. Luo Binghe would just need to be more clear.

He let go of Shen Qingqiu's waist enough to pull back and climb fully into his lap, his legs straddling Shen Qingqiu's thighs, his arms wrapping around Shen Qingqiu's shoulders. "It's alright, Senior Shen," he whispered, brushing his lips against Shen Qingqiu's ear. Beneath him, he felt Shen Qingqiu freeze, then shiver. "Whatever pushed me away is in the past. I don't remember it—and I'm not sure I want to—but even without the specifics I understand 'us' now. I know what we were to each other, or at least, what we wanted to be."

"What we—what?" Shen Qingqiu said, his voice strangled. "Binghe—"

Luo Binghe had been bad at kissing when he'd started his life at Huan Hua. The first couple of girls that he'd laid with had laughed and teased him about it, but had patiently taught him how to slow down, how to be gentle and soft and coax his partners into pleasure. He'd mastered that skill as quickly as he had any other, and now he put it to good use. Shen Qingqiu jerked backward with a shout when their lips touched, but Luo Binghe followed, quickly pressing their mouths back together and raising his hands to hold Shen Qingqiu's neck and jaw, gently repositioning him into a better angle. 

In his grasp, against his mouth, Shen Qingqiu struggled, and gasped, and shuddered. 

"Binghe!" he said, breathless, breaking away for a moment, and oh—he was heart stopping like this, with flushed cheeks and dark eyes and shiny lips. "What are you doing? You don't like me!"

"I do," said Luo Binghe. He leaned forward to lick at Shen Qingqiu's bottom lip.

Shen Qingqiu let out a strangled noise as Luo Binghe's tongue teased at his mouth. "We weren't together!" he protested, his voice hoarse.

"We weren't?"

"No!"

"Ah." That was a shame, though Luo Binghe would be lying if he said there wasn't a thrill to it, too. This meant he'd be able to remember their first time. "Well. We can fix that."

He guided Shen Qingqiu's hands to his hips, still bare from Shen Qingqiu's earlier hurried inspection of the tattoo. Shen Qingqiu inhaled sharply, and Luo Binghe pressed forward again, swallowing his startled noises as he coaxed Shen Qingqiu's mouth open. 

Luo Binghe could definitely believe that they hadn't done this before. Shen Qingqiu's hands clutched at him uncertainly, awkwardly, and when Luo Binghe slipped his tongue into Shen Qingqiu's mouth, Shen Qingqiu seemed to startle himself with his own moan, as if he hadn't been expecting it to feel so good. 

"Binghe, you need to listen to me," he said, panting against Luo Binghe's mouth when Luo Binghe eventually pulled back for a breath. "You don't want this, not really. You're drunk, you're confused, you're—"

Luo Binghe didn't feel drunk, not anymore, and he certainly wasn't confused. "Do you really think I don't want this? Can't you feel how much I do?" Luo Binghe said, pressing his hips forward. Shen Qingqiu cried out, and yes—there was an answering hardness beginning to grow there. Luo Binghe pushed their bodies together more firmly, and Shen Qingqiu's hips hitched helplessly against him.

"If you hadn't lost your memories, you would hate this," Shen Qingqiu gasped. But he wasn't pulling away anymore, and when Luo Binghe kissed him again, his mouth answered Binghe's.

If Shen Qingqiu believed that Luo Binghe would hate this, then he truly was a pitiful creature, willing to give so much of his heart and expecting nothing in return. Luo Binghe moved their bodies together, and Shen Qingqiu seemed unable to do anything but shudder, and clutch him tighter, and accept Luo Binghe giving him what he needed.

And oh, Shen Qingqiu clearly needed. His breaths were coming in uneven gasps now, and his expression was flushed and overwhelmed. 

"It doesn't matter what the past me would have wanted," Luo Binghe reassured him. Not that there was much likelihood of that, but still. "He's gone."

The burst of qi that hit him in the chest was more surprising than it was painful. 

It knocked him off of Shen Qingqiu's lap and halfway across the room. Luo Binghe was on his feet in an instant, automatically looking for the threat that had attacked him, but there was only Shen Qingqiu: dazed, hard, and furious.

"He's not gone," Shen Qingqiu said, and—were those tears in his eyes? 

"He is."

"I'll get your memories back!"

"And if I don't want them?" Luo Binghe reached out to him, intending to soothe him, settle him, and pick back up where they'd left off. But Shen Qingqiu refused his hand, scrambling away from him as if Luo Binghe was dangerous, as if he was a threat.

Shen Qingqiu stood up. He was still shaking and flushed, but his expression was determined. "You need them. You'll remember why soon enough," he said. "And when you do, you aren't going to want… this, whatever this is."

His eyes suddenly flicked up to something over Binghe's shoulder, and then he was out the window, leaving Luo Binghe alone and wanting and more confused than ever.

"Was that Shen Qingqiu?" a voice cried from behind him—and ah, he'd forgotten to fully close the door, hadn't he? Perhaps he was more drunk than he'd realized. He turned to see the Little Palace Mistress glaring at the open window. 

She was jealous—always was when he took another lover, despite his transparency about his intentions to continue doing so—but she looked shocked, too. Beside her stood his Fang-shimei, her hands clasped over her mouth and her eyes wide.

"So it's true?" Fang-shimei said, and did she sound…excited? "Regret of Chunshan is actually real?"

Despite everything (and Shen Qingqiu was doing his best not to think of everything, and his reaction to everything, and everything that implied) he'd gotten a good look at the tattoo. 

It was an array—or a series of arrays, made of concentric rings of complex seals, typical of Huan Hua Palace work. Shen Qingqiu had been able to identify three separate nested components of it before he'd been…distracted. By everything. 

He reported what he'd discovered to Shang Qinghua and Mobei-Jun (leaving out the salacious details and ignoring Shang Qinghua's innuendos), and they got to work.

The tattoo as a whole was too complex to fully understand without months—maybe years—of research (and without kidnapping and coercing a Huan Hua cultivator into sharing their expertise, a plan Mobei-Jun was very much okay with) but several elements stood out. There was a protection component to prevent Binghe from looking at it too hard or accidentally damaging it; a mental component to alter Binghe's mind, presumably hiding previous memories; and a demonic suppression component that sealed any traces of non-human energy. In some ways that last component was cruder than his cradle seal, probably catching even poor Meng Mo in its widely-cast net, but it was powerful.

Not powerful enough to stop some of Binghe's OP heavenly demon powers from leaking through occasionally, but still. It was formidable.

As Shen Qingqiu stared down at the manuscript (which Shang Qinghua had blackmailed someone in Huan Hua into sneaking to him), he traced his fingers over familiar lines that detailed how to cordon off a section of someone's memories. The last time he'd touched those lines, they'd been on Binghe's warm, trembling skin, and then they'd—

His mind skittered away from the memory, and he focused back on the diagram in front of him. The array was powerful, but he knew what it was now, which meant that he could break it.

The System binged.

[Congratulations! Congratulations! Congratulations!] it said. [Good things must be said three times! The User has figured out what's wrong with Luo Binghe, and has completed the quest! This means that the User can now proceed to curing the protagonist…if he wishes.]

'If' I wish? Shen Qingqiu asked incredulously. 

[The end of this story is in the User's hands!]  

As if Shen Qingqiu was going to stop there! He'd come too far to abandon Binghe now. 

The first thing he needed to cure Binghe was—well, Binghe. 

Strangely, that was the easiest part.

"You came," Shen Qingqiu said, cautiously watching Binghe approach.

"You asked me to," said Binghe, shrugging—as if Shen Qingqiu hadn't spent the past few months trying, and failing, to get close to him. 

Shen Qingqiu wasn't sure what exactly had changed. A few weeks ago, any letter from him to Binghe probably would have been laughed at, then burned. But then that night at the inn had happened out of nowhere, and when he'd written to Binghe, requesting that they meet on neutral ground between the two sects, Binghe had responded immediately with his agreement. 

Embarrassingly, Yue Qingyuan had been there when Binghe's letter had arrived. The Little Palace Mistress had issued a complaint against Shen Qingqiu on behalf of Huan Hua, apparently, and Yue Qingyuan seemed to think that meant that he should give Binghe some space.

"Just for a bit, until things calm down," he'd said. "Please, shidi. Think of your reputation."

As if his reputation had ever been anything but a fleeting thing, destined to be ruined when Binghe returned from the Abyss and turned the cultivation world against him. Granted, he hadn't imagined it happening quite like this, but if it helped Binghe then it was worth it. 

At least this time people weren't calling for his execution, or his imprisonment. They just thought he was a bit skeevy. 

Yue Qingyuan had given the letter from Binghe a disappointed look. "If he's asking for space, then Shen-shidi should give it to him," he'd said, gently.

But Binghe hadn't asked for space. He didn't seem to want that anymore, though what he wanted instead—Shen Qingqiu himself—was difficult to comprehend. It was easier to block it out of his mind and focus on the task at hand…at least, it had been, until Binghe was in front of him again, looking at him like that.

He'd half expected that Binghe would regret his actions now that the alcohol had worn off. Surely he would look at Shen Qingqiu with disgust, or accuse him of taking advantage. But Binghe only watched him with dark eyes, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

"I've made progress on your missing memories," Shen Qingqiu said. 

Binghe walked closer. "Oh? And is that all Senior Shen wanted to talk about?"

"Binghe…"

"Does Senior Shen have nothing to say about what happened during our last meeting?"

"We can talk about that later." Or never, preferably, but Shen Qingqiu suspected it would be a moot point once Binghe remembered his past. 

Binghe sighed. "We don't need to do this," he said. "Whatever happened…I might not remember, but I know it was bad. You could simply tell me the parts of my past that I need to know, and we can move forward from there. Wouldn't that be easier? Having a fresh start?"

Shen Qingqiu hesitated. 

It was the perfect solution, wasn't it? The System had even hinted that it was a possibility. He would be able to gently break the news of Binghe's demonic heritage to him, only this time Shen Qingqiu would be able to comfort him through it. They could find wherever Huan Hua Palace had stashed Xin Mo and seal it more thoroughly, Binghe could have the reforged Zheng Yang back, and they could move forward without any of the unpleasantness of the conference or Shen Qingqiu's betrayal between them. 

Only…what did moving forward mean in this case? Binghe wanted him, and Shen Qingqiu…didn't know what he wanted. That night at the inn had certainly felt good, because of course it had! This was the stallion protagonist! It was only natural to melt into his kisses! 

That didn't mean that Shen Qingqiu liked guys, but…he wouldn't exactly mind if it happened again.

He may have even had one or two dreams to that effect.

Still… 

"I can't," he said.

Binghe's face fell. "Why not?" he demanded. "Why is it so important that I remember?"

Binghe needed his memories—he'd learned too much in the Abyss that he'd have to draw from later in life, not to mention his memories contained the key to using his dream powers and demonic abilities. But more importantly…

"Because I miss you," Shen Qingqiu said quietly, and he found that he meant it. "I suspect my sweet white lotus from before is gone no matter what I do, but I can't be the only one that remembers those years. I need you back, even if you hate me."

"And if I'm happier without those memories?"

"Then you can have Huan Hua reapply the tattoo—but that's a choice you can't make without knowing what you're giving up."

"Reapply the tattoo?" Binghe asked, frowning in suspicion. "What do you mean, reapply—"

He started to take a step back, but it was too late. Shen Qingqiu had already grabbed his sleeve and activated the communication array.

"Now," he said, and a shadowy portal swirled into being beside them.

Binghe's eyes widened in shock, his face going pale. Shen Qingqiu supposed it did look a bit ominous, with its black tendrils and pulsing waves of demonic qi. 

"Senior Shen is working with demons?" Binghe said, turning his horrified look on Shen Qingqiu. He looked betrayed, of all things.

"I wouldn't—! Hmm. No, actually, I suppose I am," Shen Qingqiu said, and jumped through the portal, pulling Binghe with him.

Binghe was stronger than Mobei-Jun under normal circumstances. Fortunately these were not normal circumstances; without his demonic cultivation and Xin Mo, and against both Shang Qinghua and Shen Qingqiu as well, he was quickly subdued.

He didn't go quietly, though. If they hadn't portaled to the demonic side of a nearby borderland town, his yelling was sure to have drawn unwanted attention. 

"You won't live to regret this!" Binghe shouted as Mobei-Jun secured him to a chair with Immortal Binding Cable.

"I'll make your death slow and painful!" he screamed as Shang Qinghua undid his belt and uncovered his tattoo.

"I trusted you," he said, quietly, as Shen Qingqiu prepared the ointment. "I shouldn't have. I knew something happened between us—I just didn't imagine it was this. You were the one who let the demons into the Immortal Alliance Conference, weren't you? I found out about your demonic loyalties, and it broke my heart, and that's why I left you."

"Not quite," Shen Qingqiu said, and infused the ointment he'd been preparing with qi.

Removing the tattoo by interrupting its lines with damage wasn't an option—Binghe's fight against the Blood Wraith had proven that. Mobei-Jun had suggested simply skinning Binghe's stomach and allowing him to regrow the entire area, which Shen Qingqiu had shot down on the basis that it was excessively cruel and painful, but it had given him an idea. If damaging the tattoo wasn't an option, perhaps healing it was?

The ointment Shen Qingqiu had proposed was one of unparalleled medicinal regeneration—so powerful that it had been used to heal a wife who'd been stabbed through the heart several times, and who probably had, scientifically speaking, been very dead. Combined with Binghe's OP healing abilities, surely it would be enough to break down and heal over a tattoo?

At least, that was what he hoped. Shang Qinghua had given his plan the ringing endorsement of a shrug and a, "Maybe?"

Shen Qingqiu knelt next to Binghe's chair, and, trying not to think of what had happened last time he'd touched Binghe's stomach (or about how soft Binghe's skin was), scooped up some ointment and gently traced it onto Binghe's tattoo with his finger. He focused on covering the outer ring, which by his estimation was the one protecting the entire array, both from outside damage and from Binghe looking at it or thinking about it too much. 

The room collectively held its breath as they all watched Binghe's stomach. Were the lines fading? Shen Qingqiu squinted at them. It didn't look like they were, but under the thick globs of medicine, it was hard to tell.

"And what, exactly, is this supposed to do?" Binghe asked, looking down at his now-sticky stomach. 

"Heal you," Mobei-Jun said shortly. "Though if it doesn't work…" He pulled out a sharp looking knife. "We can still just peel it off."

"You—!"

"No one is skinning anyone," Shen Qingqiu said. "Mobei-Jun, stop waving that knife around. Binghe, stop struggling—we won't hurt you, and the ropes will cut off circulation if you pull too much."

Binghe did not look reassured, but he stopped his sudden thrashing. 

"It itches," he said, after an uncomfortable minute passed in silence. "Is it supposed to itch?"

"Sure," Shen Qingqiu said, and leaned closer to watch.

The lines had begun to fade—and as they weakened, their ability to protect themselves weakened as well, and they began to disappear fast, then faster still, until the outer ring was entirely gone. Mobei-Jun put his knife away with a sigh that almost sounded disappointed, and Shen Qingqiu grimly began to apply the ointment to the second layer of seals.

"This one might be less pleasant," he warned Binghe. "The first one was a relatively simple protection array, but this one—"

Without the protection of the outer array, the tattoo lines began to fade almost instantly, and the resulting burst of demonic qi almost knocked Shen Qingqiu off his feet. 

Above him, Binghe cried out. 

It shouldn't hurt—not like it had when Binghe's cradle seal had broken. His meridians had since developed to handle demonic qi, and he'd spent years combining his spiritual and demonic energies. Even without his memories, his body would be able to balance it. 

But that didn't mean it wasn't a bit of a shock.

"Senior Shen," Binghe croaked, staring down at his now-clawed hands in disbelief. "I don't understand."

"It's alright, Binghe," Shen Qingqiu said gently, finishing his application of the ointment. 

Binghe was shaking his head, his eyes wild and glowing red. "I don't—I'm not—"

"You're part demon." And hadn't this been what he'd always wanted to say? Without the System countdown, he was able to do what he should've the first time around, and gently pull Binghe into a hug. "But you're still you. Don't worry—I'm here."

The hug was awkward. He was on his knees, and Binghe was still tied to the chair, but after a moment there was a snap as the Immortal Binding Cables broke, the bindings no match for Binghe at his full power. In his peripheral vision he saw Shang Qinghua make as if to dart forward to help, but Mobei-Jun pulled him back, moving both himself and his spy to the relative safety of the far side of the room. 

And Binghe, now that he was no longer restrained, was…

Using his new freedom to hug Shen Qingqiu back. He was shaking, and his hands clutched desperately at the back of Shen Qingqiu's robes.

"Senior Shen?" he said—whispered—and Shen Qingqiu tightened his hug.

"It's alright," he said again, and waited for Binghe to stop trembling.

When Binghe pulled back, his eyes were rimmed with red, and his face was pale. 

"I need to remember," was all he said.

The last array was the most complex, but it was also the smallest. It only took a dab of medicine to cover it all, and after a moment it, too, began to fade.

Binghe went rigid.

"Binghe?" Shen Qingqiu asked.

Binghe screamed.

It seemed like this seal, unlike the one suppressing his demonic powers, did hurt when it broke. Shen Qingqiu grabbed Binghe's shoulders and tried to steady him as Binghe began to thrash, his eyes open, but unseeing. "Binghe? Binghe!"

"He's getting the entire Abyss all in one go!" Shang Qinghua said from behind him, shouting to be heard over Binghe's wails. "Also the rest of his life! Which mostly wasn't all that great. It's probably a lot to take in!"

Binghe's energy was fluctuating dangerously, and why couldn't the seals have been in the opposite order? If his power was still sealed, the oncoming qi deviation would have been much simpler to avert! It had probably been done this way on purpose as a fail safe, and if Shen Qingqiu survived this, he was going to kill whoever at Huan Hua had done this. He gritted his teeth and poured energy into Binghe, but it wasn't enough. 

Mobei-Jun was shouting something, and so was Shang Qinghua, but Shen Qingqiu couldn't make out their words—and honestly, he didn't care to try.

"Shut up and help me!" Shen Qingqiu snapped, and Shang Qinghua broke free of Mobei-Jun's grasp to dart forward and channel energy into Binghe.

"I'm helping, I'm helping! But also, we may have company?" Shang Qinghua grimaced as Shen Qingqiu looked up at him sharply. "Is there any chance one of those seals contained a tracking element? Because we've got Huan Hua cultivators incoming."

The bastards probably had put something in the array to track Binghe—suddenly seeing him pop into the demon realm must have been a shock. Shen Qingqiu wished they'd chosen somewhere further away from the human realm, but he'd wanted Binghe to be near familiar territory when he recovered. 

Mobei-Jun was visibly readying himself to fight, but they couldn't risk it, not now, not when Binghe was so vulnerable. If Huan Hua got their hands on him like this, they could redo the arrays, and Binghe would be helpless to resist. "We need a portal!" Shen Qingqiu shouted as footsteps thundered up the stairs, approaching the room they were hidden in.

Mobei-Jun scowled, but as the door burst open and it became clear how many people they were up against, he nodded. A moment later, a shadow portal swirled to life. 

Shang Qinghua was the first through the portal, pushed through it unceremoniously by Mobei-Jun as the Huan Hua cultivators swarmed in. Binghe was the second through the portal, thrown through it by Shen Qingqiu as Huan Hua cultivators grabbed him, preventing him from crossing through the portal himself. And Mobei-Jun was the last through it, though not before shooting a barrage of icicles through the chests of Huan Hua members idiotic enough to try approaching him directly. He hesitated on the other side when he realized that Shen Qingqiu was unable to follow, clearly considering turning around and trying to grab him.

But Shen Qingqiu was being dragged across the room, too far away to reach quickly, and Huan Hua hadn't sent junior disciples for this. Beating the mob of high-level cultivators crowding into the space between them would take time—time that Binghe didn't have.

"Go!" Shen Qingqiu shouted. "Help Binghe!"

Mobei-Jun frowned, then shrugged. "Don't die," he said. "He'll kill us all if you do." 

Behind him, Shen Qingqiu could see Shang Qinghua frantically pouring qi into Binghe's still-thrashing form. "My King! I don't have enough power for this! He needs you, too!" Shang Qinghua said, and then Mobei-Jun was turning towards Binghe, and the portal was gone. 

There was a moment of silence as the room stared at the empty air where the portal had been, and then Shen Qingqiu felt all eyes shift towards him. 

"So." The Little Palace Mistress walked towards him, snarling. Multiple cultivators had latched onto Shen Qingqiu's arms and robes, and were already unwinding lengths of Immortal Binding Cable around him. "Immortal Master Shen teamed up with demons to hurt Luo-gege. Is your love truly so depraved?"

And alright, he had been working with demons, but coming from the people who'd done this to Binghe, that was a bit much. "I was helping Binghe," he snapped.

"Yes, I could tell by all the screaming." The Little Palace Mistress gestured to the cultivators holding him, and they hauled him roughly to his feet. "Let's get him back to Huan Hua. My father will want to speak to him."

The Old Palace Master was not impressed by Shen Qingqiu's refusal to talk, either about where Binghe had gone (as if Shen Qingqiu had any idea) or about his supposed long-term collusion with the demons. The accusations from the sowers were trotted back out, as was the demon invasion at the Immortal Alliance Conference, but Shen Qingqiu kept his silence. If they wanted to drag his name through the dirt, they would regardless. Anything else could wait until his trial.

If he lasted that long, at least. The Water Prison was as inhospitable as PIDW had made it out to be. 

Shen Qingqiu sat and watched the acid waterfall around him splash and hiss. With the Immortal Binding Cables sealing off his cultivation, he couldn't practice inedia, and the sad excuse for a food tray they'd delivered to him earlier that day wouldn't have been enough to stave off the hunger, even if he had been able to bring himself to eat it off the ground without the use of his hands.

He wasn't that hungry, not yet. But it had only been a few days.

The sound of footsteps made him raise his head. 

Was it the Little Palace Mistress again? If it was, he wasn't going to have any robes left by the trial. Or any skin, possibly—the wounds she'd left from the last time were healing far too slowly without the help of his spiritual powers.

He tensed, ready to roll out of the way of an oncoming whip, but when the waterfall parted, it wasn't the Little Palace Mistress looking down at him.

"Binghe?"

Shen Qingqiu had known Binghe would be alright. He'd had both Shang Qinghua and Mobei-Jun there to continue to help stabilize his fluctuating qi, and…well. He was Binghe. The protagonist! He was always alright.

Eventually. 

That didn't mean the journey there didn't hurt, though. 

But he'd survive. Shen Qingqiu wasn't sure the same could be said for himself. Would Binghe be angry and humiliated when he thought back to their kiss at the inn? Would he cut off Shen Qingqiu's lips as well as his limbs to make up for the transgression?

Or would he truly regret getting his memories back? Shen Qingqiu had trouble imagining him asking Huan Hua to reapply the tattoos—there was no way Binghe would walk away from that sort of power, especially if it meant giving someone else control over him—but that didn't mean he wouldn't mourn the loss of having led, for a brief period of time, a simpler life. This, too, might be something he saw Shen Qingqiu as having taken from him.

Binghe's eyes were burning a furious red when Shen Qingqiu met them, and this was what Shen Qingqiu had expected their reunion to be like. Luo Binghe was dressed in red and black, his hair falling loose in wild waves around his shoulders, his demon mark bright on his forehead. His expression was intense, as was the aura of demonic power around him. This wasn't Binghe, his little white sheep, or Binghe, the Huan Hua head disciple. This was Luo Binghe, Emperor of the demonic realms, and he looked like wrath personified—partly due to the excessive amount of blood splatter on him, and wow. That really was a lot of blood.

It seemed that Binghe hadn't taken Huan Hua's attempt to contain him with good grace.

For a moment they stared at each other. Then—

"Shizun!" Binghe's eyes widened in horror as he looked over Shen Qingqiu's torn robes and open wounds. "What did they do to you?"

And then Binghe was on the ground next to him, ripping off his bindings. "I can heal you, Shizun," he said, and his face was so earnest and hopeful that Shen Qingqiu didn't even think to struggle when Luo Binghe lifted a hand, cut his fingers with Xin Mo, and stuffed them into Shen Qingqiu's mouth.

"Mmphf?"

"It's alright, Shizun," Binghe cooed, his fingers wiggling against Shen Qingqiu's tongue. "Once you're healed, we'll find whoever did this to you and kill them." He paused. "If they aren't already dead."

Shen Qingqiu swallowed, then coughed, and Luo Binghe reluctantly removed his hand. "What?" Shen Qingqiu wheezed weakly. Was Binghe…not mad at him? 

Even now, he could feel the blood parasites worming their way through his gut and into his veins, spreading through his body, healing him. He stared down at his now-healthy, unblemished skin incredulously.

"A lot of them already are," Binghe said apologetically. "The Old Palace Master confessed what he'd done when I came back and held my sword to his throat. He knew my mother, apparently, and thought to… recapture some of his glory days with what he saw as her more biddable replacement." His lips curled, leaving Shen Qingqiu no illusions as to what sort of "recapturing" the Old Palace Master had hoped to do. "When I was found unconscious near the border lands, he sealed my memories and any demonic energy with the array on my stomach, and then bound Xin Mo. Badly, I might add. And while most of Huan Hua didn't know about it, enough of the Palace Master's inner circle did that I felt a change in leadership was necessary." Binghe smiled, and despite the speckles of blood on his face, he truly did look like the little sheep Shen Qingqiu had been so sure was gone. 

At least, he did, until the smile turned wider, hungrier, and he leaned in closer. "But Shizun doesn't mind that I killed them, does he?" Binghe said. "Sometimes demons are a bit violent, and Shizun is alright with me being a demon. Didn't he say so himself while removing this one's seal?"

From this close, Shen Qingqiu could see how Binghe's eyes trailed up his body (mostly bare, thanks to the Little Palace Mistress' whip) and landed on his mouth. Binghe grinned, and oh—his canine teeth were sharp, weren't they? Shen Qingqiu suddenly couldn't stop staring at them, and from the way Binghe's grin quirked, he noticed. 

Binghe was waiting for an answer, he realized.

"...Yes, I'm alright with Binghe being a demon," Shen Qingqiu said, his voice hoarse. 

"And Shizun regrets what he did at the conference. He apologized in Jin Lan City—said that I didn't deserve it." His grin was triumphant, ecstatic. "Shizun likes me. No, more than that. Shizun is obsessed with me."

Wait, what? "I'm not obsessed!" he spluttered, but Binghe only laughed, delighted.

"How long did Shizun stalk me? Following me, watching me, trying to worm his way closer to me?" Binghe should be saying those words in anger, but…that wasn't anger in his face. His pupils were blown wide, and his tongue darted out to wet his lips. "Shizun ruined his reputation for me, sided with demons for me. Shizun wants me."

"I—" started Shen Qingqiu, but that last one was an allegation he couldn't really deny, was it? 

"It's alright, Shizun," Binghe said, cupping his cheek. "I understand. I won't make you wait any longer."

And he had the wrong idea, he really did, but Binghe's lips were so soft when they touched his own that Shen Qingqiu's automatic protest faded into a soft sigh, and he'd been so cold—the Water Prison was drafty, and he didn't have much left in the way of clothes—that when Binghe climbed into his lap, it was only natural to hold him tight and revel in his heat. 

Binghe was as good at kissing as he had been at the inn—no, even better now that his head was clear and focused on the task at hand. The task at hand being, apparently, melting Shen Qingqiu's mind. Binghe's hands were roaming hungrily over his skin, and Shen Qingqiu couldn't help but cry out when Binghe pressed closer to him, grinding firmly against the growing evidence of Shen Qingqiu's interest. 

"Binghe!" he said, clutching at Binghe's clothes—and wasn't Binghe wearing too many clothes? Wasn't it unfair that Shen Qingqiu was so bare while Binghe had all his layers intact? Without thinking, he raised a trembling hand to Binghe's belt, and the suggestion alone was enough to have Binghe scrabbling at his own robes, tearing the ties off as he freed himself.

"Shizun tried so hard to be near me during these past few months," Binghe said happily, sighing as he shed his clothes and Shen Qingqiu's hands came to rest on his bare flesh. "He got as close as he could, but it was never enough, was it? Even this isn't enough. Shizun needs to be closer, needs to be inside me."

Shen Qingqiu shuddered. There was so much skin under his hands, it was impossible to think straight, but…yes, that did sound rather good. Only… 

"Not here!" Shen Qingqiu said, scandalized. Was Binghe really suggesting…? On the dungeon floor…? "I'm not having my first time be in the Water Prison!"

Binghe froze, then drew back. "Shizun's first time?" he whispered, his voice full of awe. "Really?"

If Binghe was disappointed by Shen Qingqiu's lack of experience, he didn't show it. In fact, Shen Qingqiu wasn't sure he'd ever seen Binghe look so happy. "I'll use Xin Mo to send us to my Underground Palace," he said, moving back and drawing the weapon.

"We're sealing that afterwards, though," Shen Qingqiu told him as the portal tore open, and he felt the wave of resentful energy that rolled off the blade. "It's not good for Binghe's health."

"As Shizun says," said Binghe cheerfully, pulling him through the portal and into what looked to be Binghe's personal bedroom.

"And we're setting the record straight about our relationship. I was not mooning after you when you were a child!"

"Of course not," Binghe agreed, and pulled him down onto the bed.

The jianghu did not take well to the news that both Shang Qinghua and Shen Qingqiu were in league with demons. But what were they going to do? Fight against both Cang Qiong Mountain and the demon empire? And Huan Hua, now that it was under Binghe's control?

There were tense diplomatic dinners, and reproving literature written about Cang Qiong's moral degradation, but there was no war.

There was, however, a reprint of Regret of Chunshan. And a sequel. 

Multiple of them.

"I could have told you," Shang Qinghua said later, as they took tea while Mobei-Jun and Binghe dealt with empire business. "Telling people that a story is incorrect only spreads the story further. The people who've already heard the story may or may not believe you, and the people who haven't heard it have to be told the original to understand the correction. That means that more people are talking about it, not less. You know this, bro."

"Well, I do now." The sequels to Regret of Chunshan were…creative. And the most recent one had some surprisingly accurate details, which made Shen Qingqiu suspect that Binghe had found the author and was slipping them insider info. "The question is: what do I do about it?"

"Do about it? Bro. The entire cultivation world watched you stalk Binghe for months. I think it's too late to reframe your romance as normal."

"But our romance is normal!" Shen Qingqiu ignored Shang Qinghua's skeptical look. "And besides, the books are embarrassing!"

"More embarrassing than everything you actually did in real life?" Shang Qinghua took a bite of one of Binghe's sweets that he'd left for Shen Qingqiu. "Seriously. The books are working in your favor. Tons of people are looking at your relationship—with a disciple, with a demon—and treating it like the romance of the century. This is the best case scenario."

"...But they made me look like the weird one," Shen Qingqiu said. And he wasn't pouting. He wasn't.

"You are weird, bro," Shang Qinghua said fondly. "That's why you two are such a good match. Besides, Luo Binghe likes it, doesn't he?"

He did. The concept of a Shizun who was wildly obsessed with him seemed to soothe something in him, so much so that Shen Qingqiu may have been leaning into it, just a bit. 

It came easier than he'd ever admit.

"Shizun!" Binghe called from the doorway, and Shen Qingqiu rose to meet him, smiling. 

"How was court?" he asked.

"As if Shizun doesn't already know," Binghe said, laughing. 

Shen Qingqiu did know. The talisman he'd slipped into a courier's pocket had let him overhear everything.

This had become something of a game of theirs. Shen Qingqiu would find ever-increasingly creative ways to spy on Binghe, and Binghe would try to catch him. Everytime he did, Binghe would break out into the most brilliant smile. And okay, maybe it was a bit odd, but it was harmless!

Shen Qingqiu had been prepared to have to run from Binghe when Binghe returned from the Abyss. Binghe hadn't said so, but Shen Qingqiu suspected that's what he'd been expecting, too, and being the one who was pursued instead was doing wonders for his self-esteem. And so Shen Qingqiu played his part, and honestly—it was kind of nice keeping tabs on Binghe after having been separated for so long. 

Binghe hadn't caught him this time, but he was watching Shen Qingqiu expectantly.

Shen Qingqiu raised his fan to cover his smile. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean. Now, tell me about what you plan to do to address the Western Gu Temple rebellion." It was a rebellion that had only just been reported at today's court session, which Shen Qingqiu would have no way of knowing about if he hadn't been listening in. 

Binghe grinned. "Of course, Shizun. We can discuss the best strategy over lunch."

A Binghe-made lunch sounded incredible, and Shen Qingqiu said as much, moving to Binghe's side. 

"So weird," Shang Qinghua whispered at him as he walked by.

"Binghe loves it," Shen Qingqiu hissed back.

Shang Qinghua rolled his eyes. "So do you." 

Shang Qinghua was right, for once. Shen Qingqiu did like it, because Shen Qingqiu was a bit weird. But Binghe was weird, too, and really: was it so bad to be strange, if he got to be it with Binghe?

There were certainly worse things to be. He thought back to those years alone, kneeling in front of a sword mound, then looped his arm through Binghe's elbow. Together they headed to lunch, talking about the repercussions of that day's court session, and their upcoming trip to Qing Jing, and nothing at all. And when Binghe leaned in to kiss him in full view of the demons passing them in the hallway, Shen Qingqiu only spluttered a little bit. 

It was embarrassing, but he'd been willing to offer his life to save Binghe. 

Compared to that, what was sacrificing a little face?