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Chapter Text

Liu Qingge doesn’t exactly know what it is he’s found. It doesn’t seem dangerous at all, and he feels no demonic qi. 

The plant’s base is like any other, he supposes. It’s green with some broad leaves, a sturdy stalk. Completely unremarkable. But the flower is something much different. It’s pleasing to the eye— the petals bloom in a geometric spiral, perfectly coiling inwards. It’s a geometric marvel of nature, triangular petals arranging themselves in a precise circle. The tips of the petals form intersecting lines and shapes. There must be hundreds of petals on the bloom, but it still stands upright, proudly lifting its head. The coloration is beautiful— crisp white stark against dark green. There’s something about it that he can’t quite place his finger on.

Normally, Liu Qingge would not stop and stare at flowers, of all things. He is a busy man— the Bai Zhan War God. He must always be ready to fight, to defeat the newest terror and raze battlefields with his might. There’s never time to waste on such frivolous things (Shen Qingqiu’s amused voice echoes in his mind— shidi should take his time and smell the roses).  

But there’s something about this flower that draws him in, entrancing like a siren’s call. 

It’s ridiculous. It is a flower. Still, he finds himself crouching in front of it, carefully brushing a finger against its pale petals. As soon as he does, he pulls away and curses at himself. It is a fool’s actions to touch unknown plants, especially with the amount of aphrodisiacs that exist within the realms. The amount of times he had been sent to Qian Cao as a disciple and… overheard the results of aphrodisiac poisonings really should have been enough to stop him from doing something that would land him in that position too. He tenses and waits for any symptoms to roll in— gradual or fast, either way, he needs to be ready.

Thankfully, he doesn’t feel a tell-tale heat rise in his body, or a cloud of irrationality that blurs his thoughts. 

Rather, the white petals glow, a soft illumination. 

He relaxes, tension bleeding from his shoulders. There’s no reason to do so, but Liu Qingge carefully uproots it. The roots are thin, strands of silk embedded into dark earth. He rummages deep into his qiankun pouch before finding the pot shoved deep into the space. He unceremoniously dumps out the healing herbs that Mu Qingfang insisted that he carry from the pot— not like he needed them anyways, he thinks. Instead, he packs in some of the soft soil from the ground, still damp from the rain. He adds the flower to the pot, making sure it’s stable in its new home.

The flower still glows, even as he carefully lowers it into his qiankun pouch. 

“For you.”

Liu Qingge unceremoniously thrusts the flower, pot and all, out and into Shen Qingqiu’s face. It’s an odd specimen— probably one that he’s wanted to study, knowing the other. His knowledge of different flora and fauna is truly impressive— and helpful in avoiding certain types. The well-worn bestiaries and botanical studies on Shen Qingqiu’s shelves are in constant use. Plus, Shen Qingqiu’s current project, an in-depth guide on the natural world, would benefit from having another entry. There’s no doubt that if there were to be anyone who would be able to identify the plant, it would be the scholarly Qing Jing Peak Lord.

The flower has changed since he uprooted it, but it doesn’t bother him too much. Plants are usually rather delicate, and the change in climate may have shocked it into changing. Rather than the pure white it once was, the edges of the petals blush with a lavender coloring. Perhaps it is a trick of the light, but the petals still seem to glow, light radiating from the core.

Shen Qingqiu lets out a small gasp and flushes deeply at the unexpected gift. The bright red stains his cheeks, unfairly lovely. He greedily drinks in the sight— if Shen Qingqiu had this kind of reaction to flowers, then he’d uproot a whole meadow and bring it to him.

“Shidi— for me? You… Truly?”

Shen Qingqiu looks intensely at him, as if he’s searching for an answer to a long-awaited question. Liu Qingge doesn’t know what exactly he’s looking for— but when has he ever known? Shen Qingqiu has always been one thought ahead of him and even now, he puzzles over the Qing Jing Peak Lord’s odd words. 

“Who else would it be for?”

Really, his best guess is that Shen Qingqiu wanted to confirm the flower was for him. Odd though– after all, didn’t he present it to Shen Qingqiu, and only Shen Qingqiu? It’s not like he goes around and gives flowers to all of his martial siblings anyways (it’s only Shen Qingqiu that he indulges like this, and if the man knows it, then neither of them ever acknowledge it).

“I see.”

Liu Qingge looks up in time to catch a dazzling smile on that handsome face— his eyes sparkle, and Liu Qingge’s breath is punched out of him. Shen Qingqiu’s hands brush against his as he gently takes the pot, and Liu Qingge tries not to jerk back in surprise. They linger for longer than necessary— or is it his imagination? Either way, it feels like time slows to a grinding halt in that moment. Shen Qingqiu cradles the pot in his arms, almost reverent.

“It’s beautiful, shidi. If you had said earlier… Of course, I accept.”

Shen Qingqiu tenderly caresses the flower’s petals, his touch soft. His fingers, fleeting in their touch, ghost over the bloom. The movement is enthralling and Liu Qingge freezes for just a split second.

Shen Qingqiu carefully sets the pot on his low table— a place of pride, he notes with satisfaction. The flower seems to glow, like a dimmed night pearl. But he doesn’t particularly care, not when Shen Qingqiu stands in front of him with that look— soft, soft, soft, he notes in a daze. It’s a flower, and nothing more. But Shen Qingqiu looks at him like he’s brought the greatest gift of all.

Shen Qingqiu clasps his hand in his, a thumb gently stroking the roughened skin. 

“Won’t you stay? I’ll make it worth your time.”

Any time spent with Shen Qingqiu is worth it, he thinks. He agrees without a second thought.

Shen Qingqiu returns with a tray of tea, still steaming. Liu Qingge’s eyes narrow, because it’s not the normal tea set— pale green, simple and unadorned— that he usually serves tea in. Cranes wrap around the cups and teapot, set against the dark blue of the glaze. He doesn’t know why exactly Shen Qingqiu has brought out what is clearly an expensive tea set to serve him, of all people. Still, his heart beats just a bit faster in his chest.

There’s some meaning to it, he’s sure. Shen Qingqiu has always hidden meanings behind the gentle tilt of his head, the movement of his fan. Every move has always been carefully calculated. He’s the peak strategist for a reason— his attention to detail and tendency to show countless layers of meaning using simple means have always left him dizzy.

He blinks as Shen Qingqiu sets the tray down, because there’s new additions to the tray. Shen Qingqiu is a generous host— he pours cup after cup of tea like water and sets thoughtful and delicate snacks aside, but never this.

There’s a small bowl, a paring knife. But the strangest addition is a punnet of strawberries, freshly washed and glistening.

Shen Qingqiu doesn’t bring it up. Liu Qingge’s learned, over time, that the best way to get an answer out of the puzzling man is to just wait. Shen Qingqiu pours their tea (black tea, today) leisurely, graceful. As they wait for the tea to cool slightly, Shen Qingqiu picks up the paring knife. One hand dips into the punnet of strawberries and gently extracts one. It’s red and ripe, the contrast of pale skin against rich red enticing. Liu Qingge’s eyes follow, tracking each movement like he’s on a night hunt, anticipation tracing down his spine.

Shen Qingqiu’s hands have always been steady, precise and careful. It reflects in his guqin playing, his steady calligraphy and detailed paintings. He sees it now too, as Shen Qingqiu expertly slices the stem of the strawberry off. He pushes the knife through the flesh of the fruit, one smooth stroke that perfectly halves it in two. 

Shen Qingqiu gives him a dizzying smile, and he struggles to remember how to breathe. He pops one half of the strawberry in his mouth, and hums happily. Liu Qingge doesn’t mean to stare— but the smooth pink of his tongue, the flash of white closing over that perfect slice of ruby red fruit is too much. His shameless thoughts flush his ears with heat. But Shen Qingqiu says nothing of it, and instead he holds out the other half. An offering.

His desire threatens to swallow his rationality whole, but he just barely holds strong. The shameless part of his mind wants to lean over and lick Shen Qingqiu’s hands clean of sticky juice. He refrains and gently takes the other half of the strawberry, its juice running down their hands. 

It’s sweet.

Shen Qingqiu hums in satisfaction (his cheeks are red like the fruit he’s just sliced, when did that happen?), and turns his attention back to the punnet of strawberries. He picks up another strawberry, and carefully slices it. One by one, half by half, they eat each one. 

Liu Qingge leaves Qing Jing that evening, fingers and lips stained red. The taste of strawberry lingers on his tongue. His thoughts are dazed with the intimacy of the evening, the low rumble and hum of desire still coursing through his veins. Shen Qingqiu bids him goodbye, but not without an odd statement—

Let’s make up for lost time.

Now that Liu Qingge reflects, ever since he brought that mysterious flower, Shen Qingqiu’s changed. 

Not in the way that his qi deviation did, thank the heavens. He doesn’t know what he would do if Shen Qingqiu (kind, gentle, unbearingly sweet and just plain attractive) returned to that venomous and harsh man he was before. This time, the change brings a new kind of tension to the air— not unwelcome though. There’s the smallest hint of anticipation, like a cat eagerly awaiting the next move of a swinging ribbon. He doesn’t know why it’s there (what about that flower had brought about this change?) but to Shen Qingqiu’s credit, he hides it very well. 

With perfect timing, Shen Qingqiu brings out a plate of mandarins.

It’s become a new addition to their routine now. It’s wholly unnecessary for Shen Qingqiu to even entertain Liu Qingge this often (once a week became twice, then three, and now he visits Qing Jing as often as he can while still maintaining propriety), and yet he does with a smile. He gamely talks about his day, and Liu Qingge offers his stories too. Despite his bland and uninteresting stories, hampered by his short and undescriptive sentences, Shen Qingqiu still pays rapt attention to him. 

They still converse over tea, yes, but Shen Qingqiu has taken to also procuring fruit for his visits.

All of the fruits are sweet, ripe and juicy. They taste as if they’re fresh off of the tree, like Shen Qingqiu had personally picked them off the branch and come straight to Cang Qiong to share them with him. Of course, he knows that’s not true. Still, it doesn’t stop Liu Qingge from eating them.

Shen Qingqiu holds a wedge of mandarin out to him.

“Here, shidi.” Gratefully, Liu Qingge accepts. When he bites it, the juice of the fruit spreads on his tongue, tangy and sharp in all of the best ways. There’s the edge of sweetness that just barely lingers on his tongue, addictive. 

It’s a welcome addition, but there’s just some things that puzzle him about this new arrangement. Rather than simply handing the fruit to him, Shen Qingqiu takes it upon himself to prepare it for the both of them. Perhaps it’s because the fruit is better when freshly prepared, but it still doesn’t explain his biggest question.

Shen Qingqiu takes a wedge from the same mandarin and pops it into his mouth.

Perhaps it is something that signifies Shen Qingqiu’s respect for him as an always-welcome guest, or maybe Shen Qingqiu is trying to make up for lost time as he had mentioned, but Shen Qingqiu always evenly splits the same fruit between the two of them. Liu Qingge tries not to feel too affected by it— Shen Qingqiu respects him, likes him as a friend, appreciates his presence and relies on him as a shidi— but he can’t stop the way that his heart erratically beats when Shen Qingqiu offers those perfect fruit pieces to him and then eats from the same fruit himself. It doesn’t matter what the fruit is. Cherries and plums, oranges and apples. No matter what, it’s always some for him, and some for Shen Qingqiu.

And the second part to this routine— sporadic and not always present— is something of Liu Qingge’s own doing.

“Thank you.” Liu Qingge opens his qiankun pouch. “This is for you.”

He hands over a new fan to Shen Qingqiu. He’s given Shen Qingqiu many fans by now, in all kinds of colors and woods. This time, there’s no design on the leaf itself— it’s a simple, but elegant dark green. The dark ebony ribs of the fan are simply carved too. Rather, it’s the guards of the fan that made him think of Shen Qingqiu. It’s the first time he’s seen such a design; down the guards run elegant carvings of guqins. It’s a simple design, but it reminded him so strongly of Shen Qingqiu that he had bought it without a second thought, pocketing it and securing it in his belt. 

(And that’s new too; for a reason he doesn’t dare to say aloud, he had taken the time one night to messily hand-sew a fan holder into his belt).

Shen Qingqiu does not need new fans. His collection is extensive, carefully displayed in a place of pride in his bamboo home. He tends towards the same themes— plants and cranes, sloping mountain peaks and sprawling landscapes. They range from expensive commissions to cheap fans sold on the street. They are all displayed equally, and Shen Qingqiu rotates between them so they all get used as his carried fan at some point.

Despite this, he always receives the fans that Liu Qingge buys with a smile.

“It’s beautiful.” Shen Qingqiu smiles as he runs his fingers over the carvings. With one last longing look, Shen Qingqiu carefully tucks it away. And if Liu Qingge knows Shen Qingqiu, then his daily fan will be swapped out for this one, soon to be lost somewhere on Qing Jing Peak or left behind in a sect meeting. It’s never intentional, but it makes Liu Qingge’s heart beat in anticipation. A lost fan is a reason to come to Qing Jing and coming to Qing Jing means an opportunity to spend extra time with Shen Qingqiu. 

More time to spend time with the man who has unknowingly caught his heart.

“Shidi, come here. I’d like to show you something.”

Without waiting for him, Shen Qingqiu begins to walk deeper into his house. It’s a little rude, but Liu Qingge’s never cared for politeness anyways. He follows Shen Qingqiu and they step into the man’s study. The desk is covered in papers, the bookshelves filled to the brim— as expected from the scholar. Shen Qingqiu’s dedication to his work means that he spends a majority of his time in the study, and it shows. There’s a pot of half-drunk tea, floor cushions everywhere. It looks messy and chaotic, but that’s not important. What’s important is that Shen Qingqiu leads him to his beloved fan display case. Despite the sheer number of fans inside, there’s one eye-level shelf that seems bare compared to the others (of course, it’s not actually bare. But the other shelves are crammed to the brim with fans, close to bursting).

“Look here.” Shen Qingqiu urges him to look closer, tapping at the glass. And upon a closer inspection, Liu Qingge realizes with a jolt that all of the fans displayed on the seemingly-bare shelf are gifts from him. Plum blossoms and rabbits, tigers and lakes. Shen Qingqiu carefully opens the glass doors, gently opening his newest gift and placing it among the others. After a beat of silence, Shen Qingqiu closes the doors as well, the gentle clack loud in the silence. He turns to Liu Qingge, eyes shining in the light of the night pearl. His cheeks are painted with a splash of red. “Shidi’s gifts are always appreciated.”

“Mn,” he grunts. There’s a pin prick of pride that shoots through his chest. Shen Qingqiu has always taken his gifts gratefully, but to display them there— his face warms, because Shen Qingqiu takes pride in his collection and has made the conscious choice to place his gifts where it would be the first thing he’d see— is something else. “I will bring you more.”

As soon as his overly eager words drop out of his mouth, he nearly winces. It’s a ridiculous promise. Shen Qingqiu has enough fans to stock a stall. His fondness for them has not gone unnoticed— from hopeful suitors to starry-eyed disciples, he constantly receives them as gifts. Why promise to bring another fan? And yet, Shen Qingqiu flushes deeper at the promise and Liu Qingge’s heart stutters at the look on his face.

“I look forward to it, then.”

The words would feel flat and disingenuous from anyone else, but somehow, it sounds like nothing but genuine sincerity and anticipation from Shen Qingqiu.

Chapter Text

The next time Liu Qingge leaves Cang Qiong, he’s on a mission— a Weeping Stone Wraith has been reported terrorizing one of the major cities. The matter is urgent. A Weeping Stone Wraith is not an easy opponent, its power growing with every golden core devoured. And if the information is accurate, then it has already consumed dozens of cultivators. Shen Qingqiu had discussed the monster with him over tea, a pinched look on his face as he explained all of its dangers and its weaknesses. Shen Qingqiu must have suspected that he would be ordered to defeat the monster, because he handed him a neat stack of notes on the monster the next day (most likely written with a level of detail that Liu Qingge has always been impressed by).

Less than a week later, Shen Qingqiu’s suspicions were proven right. Yue Qingyuan sent a missive to Bai Zhan for Liu Qingge to defeat it, and to go with haste. As soon as he got the missive from Yue Qingyuan, he immediately started to pack and get his affairs sorted.

He’s not afraid— of course he isn’t. He has never been defeated by any monster.  But it seems that there is someone who is afraid— not of the monster, but for him.

“Liu-shidi.” Shen Qingqiu waits for him outside, a worried look locked on his face. “You’re setting off.”

Not a question, but a statement. Liu Qingge nods shortly, before gently taking Shen Qingqiu’s wrist and quickly checking his meridians. It’s not the full cleansing that he normally does, but they both know that he has to leave soon. Luckily, Shen Qingqiu’s meridians are clear for now— Liu Qingge can leave with a lighter heart, knowing his shixiong won’t run into trouble anytime soon. He allows himself the indulgence of gently rubbing a singular circle into Shen Qingqiu’s wrist with his thumb (no less, and no more). But as he begins to take his hand back, Shen Qingqiu grabs it with an alarming speed.

“Wait. I have something for you.” With a clever movement, Shen Qingqiu draws a stack of talismans out from his sleeve and into Liu Qingge’s palm in one smooth motion. His brows knit— the talismans brim with power, and he can feel the strength of the imbued spiritual energy. They must have taken a large amount of qi to produce. Liu Qingge wants to scold Shen Qingqiu for his carelessness (using this amount of energy could lead to qi exhaustion and with Without a Cure raging through his body, it was even more dangerous for Shen Qingqiu to make these)—

“You must be safe.” Shen Qingqiu presses the talismans into his hand, even more insistent. It’s almost like he can sense Liu Qingge's tentativeness. “Please.”

Liu Qingge hesitates. The talismans were made for him, and it’s rude to reject gifts— especially ones so valuable. Just the notes alone were more than enough for him. But it’s not about the inherent value of it— he can’t refuse the talismans because Shen Qingqiu looks worried. Worried for him, of all people. Although Shen Qingqiu is beautiful in every way, Liu Qingge hates the way that his brow knits, his lips purse in worry. If it reassures Shen Qingqiu, then… He carefully takes the stack of talismans and puts them in his sleeve, careful not to wrinkle them.

“Thank you.” Shen Qingqiu’s shoulders relax, his eyes softer. Although the sharp anxiety is still there, it has lessened its grip on the man. “I will try to be careful.”

“Shidi… you…” Shen Qingqiu visibly swallows. His voice is soft, and Liu Qingge focuses his senses on him. “Come back to me. You must.”

With that, Shen Qingqiu steps back. The moment breaks, and the tension that was in the air almost completely dissipates. The Qing Jing Peak Lord turns his back and calls Xiu Ya, but Liu Qingge hasn’t stopped looking. Before he steps on his faithful sword, Shen Qingqiu looks back. Liu Qingge breaks eye contact as soon as their gazes lock, embarrassed. He flies off, but Liu Qingge can still hear his voice ringing.

Come back to me, his voice echoes. To me.  

He steps onto Cheng Luan, rapidly ascending to the clouds before shooting off. The rushing wind in his ears is nothing compared to the familiar timbre of Shen Qingqiu’s voice ringing in his head. His parting words felt like a lover’s farewell— sweet, and full of promise. 

Cheng Luan trembles under his feet, and he swears as he almost loses control. Shen Qingqiu, lovely as he is, is dangerous. Liu Qingge steels his resolve and tries to shove any thoughts of Shen Qingqiu out of his brain for now.

(It’s almost successful. Almost.)

Chengzhou is a busy city, even with the threat of the Weeping Stone Wraith looming over its inhabitants. The streets are crowded with people, and Liu Qingge can feel the unwelcome and unpleasant feeling of bodies crushing against him even in the sky. 

He already hates it here.

He’s barely given a second glance as he descends in a less crowded area, and he inwardly lets out a sigh of relief. He’s here to hunt a monster, not to interact with people and chit chat. The first order of business is to set up camp. Unfortunately, the monster is most active in the city, so he can’t go to the woods and camp out as he normally would. Instead, it is better to stay in an inn– more chances to encounter the Wraith means more information. The prospect is so unappealing that he feels his face sour. With staying in inns comes dealing with people, and dealing with people means less time hunting.

He ignores the blush of the innkeeper’s cheeks as he pays for his room. It’s a waste of time to reject the man anyways, and he wants to be able to review his information quickly and efficiently. The man tries to gently hint at his interest— this one would be glad to assist Immortal Master in every way possible, would Immortal Master need any extra services?— but Liu Qingge doesn’t care. The man looks at him once more with burning eyes, but drops his gaze in disappointment as Liu Qingge ignores him yet again.

It’s not that Liu Qingge doesn’t feel attraction towards others— far from it. It’s just that people’s attraction to him is often shallow. Objectively, he knows that he possesses a number of enviable qualities. Being both a Peak Lord of Cang Qiong Mountain and coming from a famous cultivator family means that anyone who manages to catch his attention is bound to luxuriate in the riches he brings. And if they don’t know who he is, then it’s based on his looks.

There’s only one man outside of his family who doesn’t care for that. The distinct taste of green tea on his tongue and peach blossom eyes rudely come to the front of his mind, as if trying to remind Liu Qingge of the obvious. Despite all of Liu Qingge’s shortcomings (brash, bone-headed, stoic, curt, and just rude), Shen Qingqiu stays.

Shen Qingqiu spends time with him, invites him over to talk and chat like Liu Qingge is the most interesting conversation partner in the entirety of Cang Qiong. Shen Qingqiu has never once expressed interest in his personal wealth, or the legendary cultivators in his family (the closest he ever got was a teasing request to meet the parents of my shidi, but he had never pushed it ever again). Shen Qingqiu wants his company because it’s him. Not for the association of the Liu name, not for his personal wealth nor his prestigious reputation. He just wants Liu Qingge (the thought tightens his chest, pulls at the strings that bind his heart. How is it that Shen Qingqiu always manages to do this to him?).

But now is not the time to be distracted by his absent shixiong— Liu Qingge’s here on a mission.

Now that he’s alone, it’s time to carefully review his information. Shen Qingqiu’s research has always been detailed, and his gifted notes on the Weeping Stone Wraith are no different. It reads like how the man lectures, and Liu Qingge bites back a smile. Before he knows it, his inner voice begins to change timbre, its quality shifting until it sounds like Shen Qingqiu. He barely finishes the first note— an introduction to the beast mostly, a concise summary— when he notices that the topmost paper had fluttered out of the sheaf. Unhurried, he picks it up and begins reading. It’s not a note, but rather a letter. This time, he allows the smile to cross his face and begins reading.

My dearest shidi, the letter begins. 

Liu Qingge pauses at that. One thumb comes up to stroke at those characters, written with an expert hand. It’s not completely unexpected, but the address brings heat to his cheeks. He must look ridiculous, cheeks red and flushed as he sits alone. Still, he persists and reads on.

My dearest shidi,

I know that we talked about it before you left, but I’m still worried. Sect Leader Yue will most likely send you out to defeat it soon. Of course, Bai Zhan’s finest will succeed, but I want you to have extra support. I’ve written a report for you about everything I know about the Weeping Stone Wraith— and more. Please excuse shixiong’s messy handwriting. I wrote these as quickly as I could. Please, return safely and do not take unnecessary risks.

Yours,

Shen Qingqiu

The note is brief, and yet it manages to take him off guard over and over again. There’s several bombs in the note— the implication that he didn’t just take his pre-existing research and give it to Liu Qingge, the fond address of Bai Zhan’s finest— but the most devastating of all is one word.

Yours.

Shen Qingqiu had signed off with such a warm salutation that Liu Qingge can feel something shimmery flow through his veins. He gently brushes against that word, unbelieving. Perhaps he had read it wrong. But when he pulls his hand away, the strokes remain unchanged. 

The word is still there.

Carefully, he sets down the letter. There will be more time to ponder on it later. But for now, he needs the information about his newest enemy. 

Tearing his eyes away from the letter, he picks up a note from the stack and begins reading.

The Weeping Stone Wraith tries to catch him by surprise. 

Its camouflage is impressive— it hides as a statue, its natural stone-like coloring and textured flesh a perfect disguise. But Liu Qingge is not easily fooled. He’s felt its presence stalking him ever since he arrived in the city weeks ago. A strong cultivator like him, after all, would be the monster’s ideal victim. A stronger golden core would give it more power once devoured. 

It is late in the night when it strikes. As expected, the temperature drops rapidly as it reaches out its limbs to entangle him in its trap. The Weeping Stone Wraith is fast, but he is faster.

With a sharp slice of Cheng Luan, the monster lets out an ominous hiss. Its disguise has been unveiled— and the monster becomes desperate. Now that its guise has been exposed, there is only one option if it wants to survive: to kill. It bares its bloodstained teeth, jaws unhinging wide enough to swallow him whole. The sound of its jawbones cracking is loud, oppressive in the silence of the night. It sounds eerily like the harsh crack of bone, and it echoes in the area. Despite such a violent sound, the Wraith doesn’t bleed at all— as expected. More ominous sounds escape as the beast finally throws away any disguise. Its body expands into a revolting shape, shrapnel jutting out and viscera exposed through small cracks of its flesh. 

Still, there is only one way out. The monster must be stopped, people must be saved. He slashes again and again, trying to inflict as much damage as possible while avoiding its razor teeth. It doesn’t cause much damage, so he decides to change his tactics. He reinforces Cheng Luan with qi, and rather than sharpening its blade, he intentionally dulls it and adds weight. Rather than slashing at the Wraith, he uses the momentum of his movements to forcefully swing at it. He should have brought a battle hammer instead, but he is nothing if not adaptable. Luckily for him, his make-shift strategy works. Like a real piece of stone, small chunks of its flesh begin to chip off of its body. It truly does feel like he’s fighting a statue, and Liu Qingge frowns. Even though it feels like stone, the Wraith is much harder to damage. With the amount of force he’s swinging with, he could have instantly shattered a large marble statue. 

Still, the creature persists.

The battle is lasting longer than Liu Qingge expected. But in his moment of inattention (stupid, a mistake he shouldn’t make anymore), the monster speedily shoots a hand out, claws sharpened to a deadly knife edge, aiming for his throat. He reinforces his body with qi and gets ready for the worst—

There’s a flash of white. The sudden spark of light nearly blinds him from its intensity.

It burns cold, but in a split second, the cold becomes a shimmering warmth on his skin. The injuries littering his body don’t sting, and when he checks, he finds that the smaller ones are completely gone. The large gash on his arm is slower to heal though, and he watches as the flesh knits itself together painlessly. A large groan sounds out, and Liu Qingge tenses as he remembers the situation. He points Cheng Luan outward, towards the monster.

The Weeping Stone Wraith didn’t escape unharmed. A large gash runs down its body, marring the stone flesh. Its internal organs are fully visible— although they seem like stone as well. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that the flash of white light damaged the Wraith and healed him. Liu Qingge doesn’t know what the light is, but he’s not one to question such fortunate things.

With some strategic uses of qi and more blunt force, the Wraith finally becomes still. Its body cracks down the middle and splits into two large pieces, gritty miasma oozing out and pooling on the ground. Upon its death, it seems that it truly became stone— as if it never moved. Something rolls out of its body, and he tenses. But upon closer inspection, it seems to be harmless. He carefully sends a pulse of qi, and relaxes when nothing happens. Carefully, he picks it up and examines it. The glass-like sphere is small in the cradle of his palm, a stunning and brilliant blue. Even in the moonlight, he can tell the sphere (a monster core, most likely) is of a high quality.

Without a second thought, he pockets it.

Before he goes back to Cang Qiong, he decides to go to the city’s bustling night market. Normally, he wouldn’t be caught dead in one— but circumstances have changed. Shen Qingqiu’s smile is worth the headache of the bright lights and loud shouts of the night market.

What should he get for Shen Qingqiu? A tea set? A new fan? They’re tempting options, but his brain brings up the memory of the Qing Jing Peak Lord gently caressing the mysterious flower he had initially brought. A new plant would be appreciated, he thinks. With that in mind, he scours the night market, looking for a suitable vendor.

His luck prevails. There, in the corner of the night market, a solitary plant vendor stands. Liu Qingge heads straight for it; there’s no reason to dawdle, after all. 

“Welcome!” The shopkeeper bows as Liu Qingge approaches.  “How can this one help?”

He carefully surveys the selection of goods, but unfortunately for him, he doesn’t know flora. Plants have never been his specialty, and it’s painfully obvious.

“What’s a good gift for someone?” Liu Qingge asks. After all, he’s not buying for himself, but for Shen Qingqiu. “Something special.”

“...This one understands. One moment.” The shopkeeper sounds like he’s come to some conclusion, but Liu Qingge doesn’t exactly know what it is. The complex twists and turns of people’s justifications have never made sense to him, and he’d rather not bother with it anymore. Still, he trusts the shopkeeper to recommend an appropriate gift. It’s never a good idea to offend a customer, especially when the vendor’s success at the night market depends on their reputation.  Less than two minutes pass before the shopkeeper returns with a clay pot. “Here. What does xiansheng think?”

The plant inside the pot is not a flower like he expects— rather, it is a small bonsai tree. The leaves, if they can even be called leaves, are white and fluffy. It looks like bolls of cotton more than anything else. The slender branches underneath don’t even look like they’re attached, and simply disappear into the white mass. In every way, it looks like a cloud. When he gently pokes at the white fluff, his hand doesn’t pass straight through like he expected. Instead, his hand slowly sinks into the soft material. It feels like what he thought clouds felt like when he was a child.

“This plant is called Jade Cloud Willow,” the man begins to explain. “It’s an unusual bonsai tree that—”

“I’ll take it.” Liu Qingge interrupts. As soon as he laid eyes on it, he knew that it was perfect. He’s sure that Shen Qingqiu doesn’t have one yet, and if he’s completely honest, he would rather listen to Shen Qingqiu’s explanation. The man blinks at his rudeness, but doesn’t comment on it.

“Very well then. It’s two silvers, xiansheng.” The shopkeeper barely finishes his sentence before Liu Qingge pulls his money pouch out. The correct amount is paid out, and Liu Qingge unceremoniously takes the Jade Cloud Willow before leaving. 

As soon as he steps out of the vendor’s stall, he heads for the closest exit. His work in the city is done. The Wraith has been exterminated, and a gift for Shen Qingqiu has been secured.

The flight back to Cang Qiong is long, and he heads straight to Bai Zhan. The mission debrief can wait, and it’s late anyways. The sun had long since set, the only sound being the rustle of leaves. 

“Liu-shidi!” As he approaches his house, he hears someone call his name— no, not just someone. He would know that smooth baritone anywhere. He would know that voice even in slumber. 

It’s Shen Qingqiu.

But Shen Qingqiu shouldn’t be at Bai Zhan at this hour. He should be at Qing Jing, sleeping on his soft bed, surrounded by a truly unnecessary amount of pillows. There’s no reason for him to be at Bai Zhan unless… His heart stops. Unless there’s been an emergency. There could be any number of emergencies that require Liu Qingge, and his shixiong tends to attract trouble with an alarming speed.

Liu Qingge rapidly descends, jumping off Cheng Luan. He rushes to Shen Qingqiu, his heart racing just as fast. He doesn’t know what the matter could be, if it’s related to his health, if he’s injured–

Shen Qingqiu crashes into him. The unexpected weight has him toppling backwards, and he hits the ground with a grunt. His arms wrap around Shen Qingqiu to soften the blow, and he allows himself to be used as a cushion for the other man. The physical shock rolls over him quickly, and he immediately sits up. He needs to check Shen Qingqiu’s condition immediately.

“Shen Qingqiu,” he calls urgently. He hasn’t let go of Shen Qingqiu yet, and he sends an investigative thread of qi to him. “Shen Qingqiu. Are you…”

The thread of qi snaps. He chokes on his words because rather than leaning back and maintaining the proper distance, Shen Qingqiu leans in, wrapping his arms around his neck. His head gently bows forward and comes to rest in the slot between Liu Qingge’s neck and shoulder. It… it…

His body freezes, his face flushes. Heat climbs under his skin. Shen Qingqiu is in his space, in his lap–

“Liu-shidi.” The words are hot against his skin. Shen Qingqiu offers no words, no explanation for his baffling behavior. Liu Qingge tries to calm his breath, to stop his heart from leaping out of his chest. He shifts in a half-hearted attempt to move Shen Qingqiu off of him, but Shen Qingqiu seems to have the opposite idea. He melts into Liu Qingge further, as if trying to close every gap that could possibly exist between them. Heat begins to coil in his lower stomach, and he tries to not focus on it. “I was worried.”

You must be safe. Come back to me.

Shen Qingqiu’s parting words rattle in his head, and he lets out a sharp exhale. The heat in his lower stomach, tight and coiled and near bursting, dissipates. The Weeping Stone Wraith could have easily killed him (it almost did kill him), and Shen Qingqiu was left without any information for weeks on end. For all that Shen Qingqiu knew, Liu Qingge could have died and he wouldn’t have known. 

“I’m here,” Liu Qingge murmurs. Gently, he tightens his hold on Shen Qingqiu. It’s wrong for him to hold Shen Qingqiu so intimately, but he doesn’t want to let go yet. Besides, it is his responsibility to comfort Shen Qingqiu. Shen Qingqiu came to him— not anyone else.  “I came back, didn’t I?”

Shen Qingqiu huffs a laugh, but doesn’t argue. He pulls back just a bit, and Liu Qingge is struck with the devastating force that is Shen Qingqiu. The faint violet smears under his eyes send bolts of guilt through his conscience— it is his fault, he could have easily sent a message back to Cang Qiong, any sort of sign that he was safe. Eventually, Shen Qingqiu shifts all the way off of him, gracefully standing. He bites down the disappointment in his throat and stands as well. The air feels heavy with promise. Shen Qingqiu barely hesitates before gently pulling him into another embrace.

“You were hurt.” Shen Qingqiu worriedly passes a warm thread of healing qi to him, and he feels it gently probe its network before sinking into the larger wounds that hadn’t quite healed. “The talismans I gave you worked, right?”

“Mn.” The white light must have been one of the talismans, then. He pulls away a bit to pull out the talisman he had attached in his sleeve. But when he gently tugs on it, all he brings out of his sleeve is powdery ash. It’s not much, but he holds a handful out for Shen Qingqiu to look at. “It was very helpful.”

A cool breeze brushes past them, and the ash he held in his hand scatters. Liu Qingge drops his hand, and Shen Qingqiu looks at it before locking eyes with him again.

“It’s good that it helped you, and I’m glad you’re back.” Shen Qingqiu’s voice is warm, fonder than he’s ever heard it. “I missed you.”

Gods, Shen Qingqiu must be trying to kill him. Every word that he says, all of his actions feel like something out of a dream. He quietly brings Shen Qingqiu back into an embrace, reveling in the sensation. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t resist it, even though the ash must be staining his outer robe.

“I missed you too,” Liu Qingge confesses. It would be a lie to say that he didn’t, and it would be wrong to tell such a lie, especially when Shen Qingqiu was honest. But as much as he wants to stay in this moment, he knows that he can’t. It is late, even later in the night than before. Shen Qingqiu is a busy man— he is, of course, the Qing Jing Peak Lord. His schedule is packed to the brim tomorrow. Classes to lead, disciples to teach, and papers to grade, and that doesn't even begin to cover the amount of political work he does for Yue Qingyuan. Even immortals need to rest sometimes, and Shen Qingqiu needs his rest every night with how much he does in his normal life.

“Go rest, Shen Qingqiu. You’re busy tomorrow.” Reluctantly, he parts. The night feels cold now that Shen Qingqiu’s dizzying warmth is absent. But the look that Shen Qingqiu gives him sparks warmth in his soul— has Shen Qingqiu ever looked at him with such fondness, such affection before? 

“Very well then. Liu Qingge,” Shen Qingqiu calls. He jerks in surprise at the unfamiliar address. “I will see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Liu Qingge echoes. With that promise, Shen Qingqiu smiles and turns away. Liu Qingge watches as Shen Qingqiu steps on Xiu Ya and glides off, becoming a small speck in the dark of the night.

Tomorrow, he will see Shen Qingqiu again. Tomorrow, he will visit a sun-soaked Qing Jing Peak and sit with Shen Qingqiu. But what he looks forward to the most is the expression that Shen Qingqiu will make when Liu Qingge gives him his gifts.

Chapter Text

Liu Qingge knocks three times.

It’s a habit that Shen Qingqiu is trying to drill into him. Apparently, his normal methods of entering are too costly and noisy, not to mention rude (apparently, kicking his door frame isn’t appreciated by Shen Qingqiu or by his disciples). It’s a small change to make, and he doesn’t mind it anyways. After all, it makes Shen Qingqiu happy. The door swings open to reveal Shen Qingqiu, and Liu Qingge blinks once, then twice to make sure he’s not hallucinating.

Shen Qingqiu is dressed simply. The endless layers of silk and chiffon that he normally wears are completely absent. Instead of the flowing and light robes he prefers, Shen Qingqiu wears a long tunic and loose pants in the roughest material he’s ever seen the Qing Jing Peak Lord in. He wasn’t even aware that Shen Qingqiu had such robes. The color is also completely off— Shen Qingqiu prefers robes of green and white, like his peak colors. But the clothes that he wears now are dark blue, so dark they almost look black.

These clothes are not fit for a distinguished Peak Lord. No, they are the clothes of a commoner.

Liu Qingge can’t help it. 

He stares rudely at Shen Qingqiu, the image of his fluttering and gentle robes overlapping with his current clothes in a confusing mess. The only thought that runs in his head is one word: handsome. Shen Qingqiu is handsome in these dark robes, painfully so. His skin contrasts beautifully against the cloth, like crisp paper and freshly-ground ink. The green of his peach blossom eyes shines bright, and the red in his cheeks is even brighter against the dark hue of his robes. Even in simple clothes, Shen Qingqiu’s brilliance can’t be dimmed— like a pearl in mud. 

“Liu-shidi?” Shen Qingqiu calls out. His cheeks are red. “Why don’t you come in?”

Finally, he snaps out of his daze. His shameless thoughts flush his face and he mindlessly follows Shen Qingqiu, stewing in guilt. He shouldn’t be thinking about Shen Qingqiu in such a disgraceful way, especially since Shen Qingqiu is his shixiong, and nothing more. He has been nothing but friendly to him. Even last night’s events (Liu Qingge can still feel the burning warmth of Shen Qingqiu’s body pressed against his, the sensation of his words forming on his skin) were the result of Shen Qingqiu being worried. Shen Qingqiu cares for him, but certainly not in the way that Liu Qingge does.

“Let’s take a walk,” Shen Qingqiu gently directs. Still lost in his thoughts, Liu Qingge halfheartedly grunts in affirmation, absentmindedly following Shen Qingqiu. Shen Qingqiu guides them deep into the spiritual tree forest, and Liu Qingge takes the time to recollect his thoughts. Eventually, Shen Qingiqu begins slowing down. He turns around and directs a smile at Liu Qingge, and he freezes— he may be the Bai Zhan War God, but Shen Qingqiu is the strongest force he’s ever faced. “Here. What do you think?”

Rather than taking him to an outside pavilion, Shen Qingqiu has led him to what appears to be an extremely large garden, hidden deep in the forests of Qing Jing. It’s not completed by any means— there’s large patches of upturned soil, potted plants in seemingly random places, and tools carefully laid out. Despite the chaos, Liu Qingge can see the beginnings to what will be a meticulously planned garden. Shen Qingqiu has already sectioned off large plots and laid down path stones. There’s even what appears to be a greenhouse in the distance, which undoubtedly holds rarer and more delicate plants not ready to be planted. His thoughts turn to the mysterious flower that he had given Shen Qingqiu— is it important enough to Shen Qingqiu to be put in the greenhouse?

“This shixiong wanted to try something new,” Shen Qingqiu remarks. “As Liu-shidi can see, I’ve only just begun the preparations.”

“Mn.” It’s an ambitious project, but Liu Qingge knows that with Shen Qingqiu’s precision and high expectations, it will be beautiful. “It will look good.”

Shen Qingqiu’s cheeks flush a bit more from the compliment, although that could very well be due to the stifling heat. He fumbles for something in his pockets, and emerges victorious with a pair of gardening gloves. Suddenly, the clothes make much more sense. Of course, it wouldn’t be practical to work with the earth in delicate clothes that would be impossible to keep clean. Shen Qingqiu must have ordered a set of work robes for this exact purpose.

“Thank you, Liu-shidi.” Shen Qingqiu pulls the gloves on, and Liu Qingge watches as slender hands are covered with sturdy cloth. One would assume it’s natural of the Qing Jing Peak Lord to try and keep his hands soft, but he knows that’s not true at all. Shen Qingqiu is no stranger to working hard— he may not be as well-versed with the sword, but Liu Qingge knows the callouses on his hands match the ones on his hands. His mastery of the guqin has also left callouses that decorate his fingertips— callouses which he has shamefully thought about gently kissing before. “Would shidi like to help?”

Liu Qingge blinks in surprise. The garden is Shen Qingqiu’s passion project. From the looks of it, no disciples have helped him in the finer preparations thus far despite its size. Not to mention the fact that he is the Bai Zhan War God— he obviously does not have an eye for aesthetic quality, nor the gentleness and delicacy that some plants demand to be treated with. It’s more likely that he would harm more than help.

(He winces, thinking about his mother’s beloved hydrangea bushes. She had been devastated and absolutely furious upon seeing the multicolored blooms in tatters, pitifully wilting— courtesy of a younger him. He didn’t mean to destroy them, but his imaginary enemy had hidden in the bushes, and really, he just wanted to protect them all…)

“Ah, shidi must not want to dirty his robes.” Shen Qingqiu snaps his fingers, having come to a completely wrong conclusion. It’s a little ridiculous— dirt? He regularly comes back to Cang Qiong absolutely caked in blood and filth from his various missions. If he cared about dirtying his robes, then he wouldn’t be the Bai Zhan War God at all. Besides, there’s a reason why Bai Zhan prides itself on its cleaning talismans. They were perfected by him and so effective that he could slap one on and look perfectly clean in the matter of minutes. He opens his mouth to argue, but Shen Qingqiu cuts him off. “One moment shidi. These might fit— I ordered a slightly larger size.”

Shen Qingqiu pulls a second set of work robes out of his qiankun pouch. They’re the same hue, same cloth, but the last part of Shen Qingqiu’s sentence makes him feel odd. The way that Shen Qingqiu had phrased it made it seem like he intentionally bought them for him. He can see the need for two sets of work robes, but to order them in two different sizes? Still, he takes the extra set of robes gratefully. The only problem, of course, is that there’s nowhere to change. He’d have to head back to Shen Qingqiu’s house to change— and even that is shameless. To change in the house of another is rather intimate, and there’s absolutely no way that Shen Qingqiu would be okay with the implications of that.

“Where should I change?” He asks stiffly. Of course, he could just use a cleaning talisman, but Shen Qingqiu has thoughtfully given him a spare set of work robes. Even he knows not to refuse such a thoughtful offer. Shen Qingqiu points to the greenhouse in the corner, and Liu Qingge almost chokes. His face goes dark with embarrassment. “Shen Qingqiu! Be serious!”

“But I am serious, shidi.” Shen Qingqiu protests his words, like he hasn’t proposed Liu Qingge go change in a greenhouse. “There’s a study in there with a privacy screen. You can change there. I assure you that it’s perfectly safe— I change in there when I come here to work. You can even hang your robes next to mine. Shixiong doesn’t mind.”

That’s even worse. It’s not at all the reassuring statement that Shen Qingqiu means it to be. To change in the same place where Shen Qingqiu works… Even hanging his robes next to Shen Qingqiu’s is a sign of intimacy. But there’s nowhere else to change, and he cannot refuse Shen Qingqiu. 

“Fine,” he grits out and begins walking to the greenhouse. The path is long and winding, and when he opens the door, he’s hit with a blast of warm air. There must be hundreds of different plants of all shapes and sizes. It’s a dizzying array of colors and textures, and the variety stings his eyes from the overstimulation. Luckily, the study is easy to find— a plain paper screen door separates it from the rest of the plants and specimens. 

Upon entering the study, the light quality changes. It’s a bit darker, golden light illuminating the room like sunset does. The temperature is slightly cooler too. It must be the work of Shen Qingqiu’s newest experiments (the man had rambled to him about the details behind the talismans, and while he was lost on the finer aspects, he at least understood the basic mechanics and goals behind them). He’d have to congratulate Shen Qingqiu on his success later, Liu Qingge idly thinks. To be able to manipulate both temperature and light levels is extremely impressive. 

The study is set up simply— a low desk with writing implements and various papers stands in the middle, floor cushions scattered on the ground. There’s a pair of shelves packed to the brim with research, and of course, a simple folding screen situated in the corner. 

Liu Qingge quickly heads over to the screen, scowling as a blush fights its way onto his cheeks. He loses the fight completely when he sees what is undoubtedly Shen Qingqiu’s robes neatly hung up on behind the screen. Shen Qingqiu has even carefully hung up his decorative cloth vambraces, the silver ones that elongate his stupidly elegant fingers further with embroidered bamboo and maddeningly accent his graceful motions (Liu Qingge is not ashamed to admit that they have taunted him both in his everyday life and in his dreams). He turns his reddened face away and begins changing, although the blush returns with a vengeance as he hangs his robes next to Shen Qingqiu’s. They are simply pieces of cloth, and yet it feels strangely intimate. 

It’s odd to see Bai Zhan blue next to the green of Qing Jing, but not unwelcome. 

With one last passing glance, he exits and begins the walk back to Shen Qingqiu. The man, unsurprisingly, is already hard at work. Shen Qingqiu kneels in the dirt, carefully digging a hole with his spade. He wears a wide-brimmed straw hat, his long and dark hair pinned up and hidden underneath it. Shen Qingqiu looks up, and Liu Qingge’s heart flutters as he smiles, half-hidden by the cool shadow of his hat. 

“Welcome back,” Shen Qingqiu greets him. Liu Qingge simply kneels next to him, ignoring the flip that his heart does at Shen Qingqiu’s gentle expression. Shen Qingqiu puts down his spade, and looks over to examine him. “Hm. I see the robes fit. Now, are you ready to help?”

“Mn.” He simply grunts in affirmation, as there’s no need for any words. Shen Qingqiu hands him an extra spade (he didn’t even notice, Shen Qingqiu must have pulled it out of his qiankun pouch), and that’s more than enough of a hint to begin. He hesitates. He doesn’t know where to start. He doesn’t know the first thing about gardening. How big should the hole be? How deep? Shen Qingqiu, thankfully notices his hesitance.

“Look, shidi.” Shen Qingqiu picks up his spade in demonstration. “Let me show you.”

Without much preamble, Shen Qingqiu begins digging. It’s less precise than what Liu Qingge expected— the hole is slightly off-center, the depth measured by eye, but Shen Qingqiu doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest. He digs until he hits dark earth, slightly moist. At that point, Shen Qingqiu pulls back, satisfied. He gently nudges Liu Qingge, and he begins his own hole.

“Wait, shidi.” Shen Qingqiu stops him before he begins digging. He produces a second set of work gloves, seemingly out of nowhere. He presses them into his palm. Somehow, he can feel the warmth of Shen Qingqiu’s hands through the sturdy cloth of his gloves. “Put these on before you start.”

Obligingly, he pulls the gloves on and begins to dig a hole under Shen Qingqiu’s watchful guidance. It’s not hard work at all— the earth is soft, and it gives easily under his spade. The resulting hole is a little oblong, somewhat crooked, but Shen Qingqiu doesn’t even mention it. Instead, Shen Qingqiu praises him.

“Very good, shidi. As expected.” Shen Qingqiu gently takes his gloved hand, squeezing it in his. It’s one of the best rewards Liu Qingge could have ever asked for. The strange intimacy of the act brings a burning red to his cheeks, but he simply huffs. He doesn’t pull away, and neither does Shen Qingqiu. Eventually, Shen Qingqiu squeezes his hand one last final time, smiling as he gently extracts himself. He turns to his side, and reveals a pot of flowers that was probably sitting there the whole time. 

They’re… purple. There’s four or so petals on each one, but that’s about all Liu Qingge gathers. There’s many purple flowers that it could be— he knows it’s not a hydrangea, but other than that, he’s at a total loss. Maybe he should ask Shen Qingqiu more about how to identify plants.

As if right on cue, Shen Qingqiu smiles.

“Shidi looks interested— as always, you have good taste.” Shen Qingqiu’s voice flows in the air, and the opening refrain of a familiar cadence begins. He bites back a smile and listens attentively as Shen Qingqiu begins an explanation. “These are Honeyed Sugar Violets. They don’t have much spiritual power, but the petals and nectar are naturally sweet, and have been cultivated to be used as an ingredient in many desserts.”

Shen Qingqiu takes off his gloves and gently plucks off two large petals from one of the flowers. He gently cradles them in the middle of his palm, and freely smiles (and Liu Qingge knows himself well enough, that smile will haunt his mind when he leaves today, will keep him distracted as he desperately tries to meditate tonight).

“Would shidi like to try? They’re very good.” Liu Qingge doesn’t particularly like sweets (they’ve always suited his shixiong’s tastes more), but he nods anyways. But instead of giving Liu Qingge the petal, Shen Qingqiu brings the petal up to his face like he’s trying to hand feed him. The action is so unexpected (and intimate) that Liu Qingge jerks away in surprise. It doesn’t deter Shen Qingqiu though, because instead of backing away and into a more appropriate position, he doubles down. 

“Won’t shidi allow shixiong to take care of him?” Shen Qingqiu purrs, his voice deep and sultry. He looks up at him with a half-lidded gaze, the iris of his eyes barely visible. Some molten hot feeling, golden and thick like honey, flows through his veins and Liu Qingge swallows dryly around nothing. His mouth barely opens, but Shen Qingqiu takes the opportunity and gently presses the petal onto his tongue. His mouth snaps shut in shock, and Shen Qingqiu peers up at him, seductive and absolutely maddening look still in place. “Very good, shidi.”

The petal is sweet on his tongue, and it dissolves quickly. It’s nothing compared to the utter shock of Shen Qingqiu’s actions, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d say that Shen Qingqiu really is trying to seduce him. It’s not true though (it could never be true, he knows) because Shen Qingqiu has never once indicated that he even wants to pursue a romantic partner. Yue Qingyuan’s years-long efforts have never bore fruit in the face of Shen Qingqiu’s indifference. If that wasn’t enough, Shen Qingqiu is also incredibly naïve— a fact that Liu Qingge is all too aware of. From intimately embracing Liu Qingge to suggesting that he hang his robes next to his, it is clear that Shen Qingqiu doesn’t quite understand the implications of his actions.

Shen Qingqiu is a smart man, but when it comes to matters concerning himself, he may as well be a clueless disciple.

“You!” Liu Qingge chokes out. He can’t help it— his face reddens, and he scowls out of sheer embarrassment. “What are you doing?!”

“I’m only taking care of you.” Shen Qingqiu sing-songs, as if he hasn’t done something so incredibly shameless that Liu Qingge’s still reeling. “Shixiong is only doing his duty, of course.”

Shen Qingqiu offers no other explanation. It’s purely ridiculous, but Liu Qingge feels something dark in the pit of his stomach. If it’s part of his duty, then does that mean that he also takes care of their other sect siblings the same way? Shen Qingqiu’s put forth the effort to repair his relationships with other Peak Lords too, not just him. And the closest relationship he has with another Peak Lord is…

He pales. Surely… Surely, Shen Qingqiu doesn’t do the same for Shang Qinghua? Does Shang Qinghua also meet with Shen Qingqiu and receive the same treatment from him? It can’t be. And yet, he can’t deny the fact that the unlikely duo are very close now. Combined with Shen Qingqiu’s cluelessness about decorum and his weekly tea sessions with the An Ding Peak Lord, it’s not too much of a stretch to assume that… 

“Do you…” Liu Qingge swallows. It’s a question he’s never even thought he’d have to ask, and he already dreads the answer. “With other people.”

He can’t even phrase it as a question. It must be easy to understand what he means though, because Shen Qingqiu’s face quickly sours at his questioning statement.

“Absolutely not,” Shen Qingqiu snaps out. The stone in his chest cracks at his response, and he inwardly sighs in relief. In retrospect, though, it was rude to simply assume that Shen Qingqiu would do that to all of his martial siblings. Perhaps Shen Qingqiu’s cluelessness doesn’t extend as far as he truly thought…

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you,” Liu Qingge quickly apologizes. His words fall flat with his seemingly unmoved tone, and he winces. He’s always struggled with making his apologies seem sincere, and it unfortunately shows in what must be a lackluster apology. Quickly, he racks his mind— he’s gotten into the habit of showing it rather than saying it, but he doesn’t want to go beyond propriety, or leave Shen Qingqiu alone while he brings back a gift— and then it hits him. The Jade Cloud Willow is still in his qiankun pouch, and although he didn’t buy it as an apology gift, it was still bought with Shen Qingqiu in mind. He quickly opens his pouch and brings out the plant, setting it between them. “For you.”

Shen Qingqiu sighs in disappointment, and Liu Qingge panics a little bit. Before he can say anything, Shen Qingqiu begins to speak.

“I appreciate the gift, shidi, but…” Shen Qingqiu delicately trails off, obviously trying to phrase his words in a clear but no less polite manner. “I want you to know that I wouldn’t do that for anyone else. Shidi is… special.”

One hand comes over and takes one of his, a firm but not painful pressure. Liu Qingge feels dizzy, not from the heat, but from Shen Qingqiu’s sincere words. He’s special to Shen Qingqiu. No one else gets to have that from Shen Qingqiu, and a selfish feeling rises in his chest. It makes him feel like a child, unwilling to share their favorite toy (and Shen Qingqiu is not a toy, nor is he Liu Qingge’s in any way, but there’s hardly a better way to describe it). 

“Take it,” he blurts out anyways. “I bought it for you.”

A shy smile blossoms on Shen Qingqiu’s face, accompanied by a rising flush. It takes everything in Liu Qingge to not stare at the beautiful sight, and he breaks eye contact with great effort.

“Then, I will take my shidi’s thoughtful gift.” Shen Qingqiu thanks him sincerely, sweetly. Again, Shen Qingqiu unknowingly sets fire to his veins– my shidi. “Now, shall we continue?”

“Mn.”

With a crisis averted and spades in hand, they easily work together to plant a bed full of Honeyed Sugar Violets. It’s late in the afternoon when they finish, and golden sun floods into the garden. The shadows of the spirit trees languidly stretch out, casting across the beginnings of the garden. Liu Qingge silently offers Shen Qingqiu a hand to stand up, and he casts an appraising eye towards their work. It’s not much now, but Liu Qingge can’t help but feel proud of their combined efforts. The rows aren’t straight, there’s some broken leaves and stray petals that were accidentally crushed under his boots, and some of the stems no longer stand proud and tall (courtesy of Liu Qingge, of course). But despite all of that, the violets still sway in the gentle breeze.

“Thank you for helping today.” Shen Qingqiu squeezes his hand, and Liu Qingge instinctively squeezes back. He hadn’t even realized that Shen Qingqiu didn’t let go (not that he’s even complaining). “I should reward such hard work. So tell me— what would you like?”

It’s a dangerous question. Liu Qingge can easily think of multiple things that he wants— to hold Shen Qingqiu as he did before, to comb through his hair, to gently press his lips against his—

“Dinner,” he blurts out. His throat feels dry, and he tries to clear it before speaking again. “Let’s have dinner.”

It’s not too shameless of a request, but he still feels his cheeks heat. They’ve taken occasional dinners together on missions before (Shen Qingqiu’s low laughter over candlelight, the heavy scent of spice in the air come to mind) but he’s never asked so boldly before. 

“Alright.” Shen Qingqiu agrees. “Let’s have dinner tonight.”

Shen Qingqiu still hasn’t dropped his hand. Together, they exit the garden, Shen Qingqiu’s rich and golden voice flowing through the air like honey.

Chapter Text

Summer becomes autumn, and in the blink of an eye, the glitter of ice and powdery snow begins to blanket Cang Qiong. The winter wind blows harshly, severely biting at Liu Qingge’s skin and bringing a lasting cold.

But Shen Qingqiu looks so joyful, so free that it barely matters. The first snowfall brings the first of many breathless smiles, twinkling eyes that enrapture Liu Qingge. They meet for longer these days, shichen after shichen spent with each other. The time seems endless, and yet it goes by too fast. They spend some of the time in the warmth of the bamboo house, but Shen Qingqiu seems much more excited to spend the time outside. Shen Qingqiu invites him on walks more often, and he rattles endlessly about his newest interests.

It’s always interesting; he knows that the Qing Jing Peak Lord is often lost in thought, sometimes unresponsive to people (concerned disciples, really) as they try to catch his attention. But in reality, Shen Qingqiu is a smart man, with hundreds of ideas and facts, verses of poetry and melodies racing through his mind— if he’s spacing out, then he must be thinking of something new, something that could only come from the Qing Jing Peak Lord himself. It doesn’t bother Liu Qingge at all— so he’s content to simply wait for Shen Qingqiu to come back to reality. And when he does come back, Liu Qingge simply listens and offers his suggestions. 

“Mn, this shixiong is trying to create a long-term heating talisman.” Shen Qingqiu idly talks aloud as they walk through the snow. His attention is immediately caught by that. As an immortal, Shen Qingqiu should have no need for a heating talisman.

“Are you cold?” Now that he properly looks, Shen Qingqiu does look to be dressed correctly for the weather. His lighter silk layers have been traded for heavier (but no less luxurious) robes. In a quick movement, he takes Shen Qingqiu’s wrist. Somehow, the man’s meridians are tangled and misaligned already. “You need to take better care of yourself.”

“No need.” Shen Qingqiu tries to wave him off, but a shiver runs through his body at a sudden wind chill. “I simply felt that my disciples would benefit from something like that.”

Bullshit. Shen Qingqiu is cold, and yet the man still feels like he has to act like everything’s fine. There’s no one around except for him, and Shen Qingqiu should know by now that there’s no reason to hide (distantly, there’s a voice in his head that points out the hypocrisy of his statement. What right does he have to tell Shen Qingqiu not to hide, when he’s carefully hidden his own affections from the man?). With how deep they’ve ventured into the forest, it would take too long for them to turn around and get Shen Qingqiu more layers. But there’s an easier (and far more shameful) option already present.

Fighting down a blush (and failing miserably), he quickly unties his sash and slides his outer robe off.

He doesn’t need it— not in the way that Shen Qingqiu obviously does. He can thermoregulate just fine, and the cold weather feels like nothing on his skin. His white inner robes flutter in the wind. Shen Qingqiu makes a noise of surprise, but Liu Qingge ignores it in favor of setting the robe across his shoulders. It’s painfully intimate (he’s suddenly glad that the man’s disciples aren’t allowed this far into the forest, there’s only one conclusion they could possibly take from seeing him in his inner robes and Shen Qingqiu wrapped in Bai Zhan robes), but he ignores the voice scolding him mentally to focus on the peak lord in front of him.

“You need it more than me,” he says bluntly. There’s a bright red painted onto Shen Qingqiu’s cheeks too, although that could just be from the cold. He swallows roughly. With a tug, he secures the robe. “Take it.”

ƒ

Shen Qingqiu is only a little bit shorter than him, but his robe is still too large for the man. The collar of the robe dips dangerously low, the hem closer to his ankles. The sleeves are also too long— they engulf his slender hands with smooth fabric. Wrapped in Bai Zhan blue, Shen Qingqiu looks… Tempting. He’s beautiful in the spring greens of his peak, but in the wintry blues of his own peak, Shen Qingqiu looks like he’s his.  

“Thank you.” Shen Qingqiu takes his hand in his. His palms are cold, but it doesn’t bother Liu Qingge. Instead, he begins to send a thread of warm qi out through his hand, to realign and delicately pick apart the tangles in Shen Qingqiu’s meridians. “Let’s go back home, shidi.”

“Mn.” Although he can’t focus on Shen Qingqiu’s meridians while they walk out of the grove, he keeps their hands linked and continues to pass warming qi to the Qing Jing Peak Lord. “Let’s go.”

But before they leave for the warmth of the bamboo house, they end up stopping by the garden. The seasonal stasis array that Shen Qingqiu had created and placed around the perimeter of the garden still seems to be effective; as they step in together, the biting chill of winter melts away to the stifling heat of summer (Shen Qingqiu had said something about wanting it to be more like spring, but the very oversimplified explanation he got when he asked about it boiled down to something about how the garden needs to experience spring first, and then something about ‘freezing’ the garden in that season… He still doesn’t get it).

He drops Shen Qingqiu’s hand and leans against the entrance pergola as he watches the other man flit around, checking his beloved plants. Over the course of a year, the garden has become a place of comfort for them both.

The pergola that he stands under was constructed by him in the autumn; Shen Qingqiu had requested his help with constructing several for the garden, and he could do nothing but oblige. In return, Shen Qingqiu planted both Lavender’s Love Wisteria and Justice Star Jasmine to creep up the trellises (for my dearest shidi, he had fondly replied). Why Shen Qingqiu had even planted the Lavender’s Love Wisteria in the first place is still a mystery to him. Despite the amount of prodding and poking he did, Shen Qingqiu never deigned to truthfully answer, instead giving him a half-hidden smile and trying to hide a blush behind his fan.

In one section of the garden, trellises of Scarlet Jewel Strawberries stand tall (the trellises were  hand-made gifts from him, but Shen Qingqiu repaid him over and over with the sweet fruit). The Spirit Peach Tree sapling he had brought back from a mission now stands in a temporary plant bed for now— Shen Qingqiu had somehow managed to keep it small enough to be decorative, but still able to produce large (and delicious) spirit peaches. There’s several more varieties of fruits planted over there. Perhaps he’ll construct another pergola over there as a respite from the heat of the summer sun that will come back.

The river stones he had brought act as simple stepping stones, carefully arranged according to Shen Qingqiu’s discerning eye. Their latest project, however, stands unfinished for now. The skeleton to what will be a circular pavilion stands in the middle of the garden, a bare frame.

It’s a simple, but forceful reminder. 

There’s a place for him here, shown in the simple buildings scattered about. It’s not just Shen Qingqiu’s garden anymore— it’s theirs. Although it’s undeniable that it is Shen Qingqiu who has brought and cared for the various flora that brings the garden to life, it is Liu Qingge who has provided the structures and materials to protect the precious life inside and allowed it to flourish.

Liu Qingge bends down to pick a Honeyed Sugar Violet from its flowerbed. Although he’s never liked sweets, he gently places it on his tongue. It’s not the taste that’s important to him, but rather the memories associated with it.

The gentle curve of a smile, peach blossom eyes. Rough robes and a straw hat. Dark earth under his fingertips, the press of a petal velvet-soft against his tongue.

Eventually, Shen Qingqiu finishes his check up, and he approaches the pergola where Liu Qingge stands. It must be hot with all of his layers on— but he hasn’t taken any of them off (he hasn’t taken Liu Qingge’s robe off, his mind traitorously whispers). In one arm, he cradles a small basket of fruits— plums, unblemished and golden.

Here, in the garden, Shen Qingqiu looks at him with a familiar softness, but no less breathtaking. He’s relaxed, the persona of a lofty and distant peak lord slipped off in favor of a casual and passionate man. His heart skips a beat, then two. There’s very few people who have seen this side of Shen Qingqiu (of course he’s not the only one, as much as he would like to pretend to be— Shang Qinghua has somehow become one of Shen Qingqiu’s dearest friends, even if the Qing Jing Peak Lord vehemently denies it).

“Everything looks good. We’ll have some plums today with tea, shidi.” Shen Qingqiu takes his hand, his hold gentle. Liu Qingge squeezes (gentle but firm— not too harshly, but enough to be a comforting reminder) before properly slotting their fingers together. 

“Mn. Let’s go.” Shen Qingqiu steps a bit closer to him, and they step outside. The warmth of the garden quickly dissipates and the sharp frost of winter hits them. Shen Qingqiu shivers, and pulls Liu Qingge’s robe closer to his skin with one hand. 

The walk back is spent in companionable silence, and it’s only as Shen Qingqiu carefully cuts a golden plum into slices in the bamboo house that Liu Qingge remembers Shen Qingqiu’s words in the forest.

Let’s go home, shidi.

It doesn’t escape Liu Qingge’s notice that Shen Qingqiu never returns his robe. It’s not important to him, really; after all, he has a closet full of Bai Zhan robes. One missing robe is hardly going to make a dent in his closet. But what it does do is make him consider something.

It’s fine that Shen Qingqiu keeps the robe (it’s more than fine, the complicated feeling twists up when he thinks about Shen Qingqiu keeping it for himself, maybe even casually wearing it at home and thinking of Liu Qingge). If he were a braver shameless man, he would even encourage Shen Qingqiu to wear it more when he visited. But that’s not the issue at hand.

The issue is that Shen Qingqiu should not feel cold. 

Winter on Cang Qiong is extremely cold, especially with how high up they are compared to most sects. And with Without a Cure running through Shen Qingqiu’s meridians, the man is at a severe disadvantage when it comes to staying warm.

The solution, Liu Qingge finds, is simple. In fact, he quite literally finds it on a trip back to his hometown.

He spots the Rabbit Fluff Tiger immediately. The Rabbit Fluff Tiger is, unsurprisingly, prized for its pelt. It’s soft to the touch, fluffy and dense. Except for stripes of dark fur, the pelt is unusually white, no streaks of gray or brown or any other undesirable colors. Although its name makes it seem rather harmless, it’s actually a very dangerous beast. Many mortals and cultivators alike have lost their lives trying to defeat one. Accordingly, any clothes made from its pelt is highly prized, its price more than what even some mortal emperors can even afford.

It’s with this in mind that he decides to hunt the one that he’s stumbled across. 

It senses him quickly, and lets out a deafening roar. Without any hesitation, the Rabbit Fluff Tiger strikes over and over, aiming for his throat. It snarls and hisses even more, furious as he carefully tries to incapacitate and kill it without damaging its pelt.

The Rabbit Fluff Tiger is certainly a challenge to fight, with claws longer than his forearm and a short enough temper to rival Liu Qingge’s on a bad day— but not enough of a challenge. After a short tussle (a little over a shichen, not bad), the tiger draws its last breath. It slumps over, and after a thorough check to make sure it’s truly dead and not just playing pretend, Liu Qingge finally lets go. He slings the corpse over his shoulders, and with the unplanned (but not unappreciated) material for his next gift acquired, he starts to head towards the Liu estate.

The trip back to his family estate is… okay. 

His mother and father patiently wait for him to finish harvesting the materials from his latest hunt, and then bring him into a private drawing room as they begin to heavily question him. It’s part of the normal routine, simple questions as always.

That is, until his mother puts down her teacup with a quiet, but no less pronounced clink. His father does the same too, and they both go quiet. His father idly raps on the table, a familiar habit of his.

“Be honest with me.” His mother looks him in the eyes, searching for an answer. Liu Qingge does his best to steadily meet them. “The beast you hunted is a gift, right?”

“Yes. It’s for a cloak.”

He answers honestly, because there’s no point in lying to his parents. They’ve always been able to see right through him, so any lies would immediately be found out. Besides, Shen Qingqiu is not someone that he is afraid to be honest about. If anything, he’s proud. Proud to be Shen Qingqiu’s friend, proud to give him gifts and help him with whatever he desires (and although he wants to be more, he can live with being his friend if that means Shen Qingqiu will continue to invite him to Qing Jing and spend time with him).

The rapping on the table stops. 

Liu Qingge glances over to his father, only to see that he’s stopped looking at him and started looking at his mother in a silent conversation— something they’ve always done. There’s something that he’s not understanding, but his parents don’t seem keen to let him know.

“Hm.” His father breaks the silent conversation first, before mirroring his mother’s previous actions and casting a questioning gaze at him. Apparently, what he finds is satisfactory enough and the rapping continues once more. His mouth is drawn into a firm line. “Bring them next time.”

It’s an odd request. Is it truly so odd that he’s giving a gift to someone, enough to where his parents feel like they need to meet Shen Qingqiu? 

“Next time,” he echoes as confirmation. He might as well bring Shen Qingqiu— the man had been hinting that he’d like to take an off-peak trip anyways. Kill two birds with one stone, as Shen Qingqiu would say. And truly, what’s the worst that could happen? His parents nod seriously at his answer.

With that, the conversation is over. The oddly short questioning period is done and Liu Qingge stands. There’s no reason to question his good fortune; he’s learned over time to simply accept it as-is. Questioning it has never ended well for him. He may as well rest for the night. He walks out and begins to shut the door, but his mother stops his actions with a halting gesture.

“Wait.” His mother commands, and Liu Qingge halts. “Before you go into town tomorrow, come see me so you can borrow a cloak.”

His brow wrinkles.

“What for?” It’s not cold at all, not to mention that he’s a cultivator. There’s no reason for him to take a cloak at all. With that question, his mother gives him a look, as if he’s asked something truly foolish. 

“You’re commissioning a cloak, are you not? Take one of mine to reference as a design.” 

And that makes much more sense, now that he reflects on it. Shen Qingqiu would certainly be grateful for any gift, but Liu Qingge should make it something that he could wear with pride. His mother’s wardrobe is extensive, and she most likely has something that would be similar to what Shen Qingqiu likes.

“Mn.” He grunts in affirmation. With the interrogation actually done this time, he heads towards his room. Tomorrow promises to be a long day. The inside of the cloak will be lined with the Rabbit Fluff Tiger’s fur— but the outside still needs to be covered. He doesn’t know much about decorative material either, but the embroidered pictures should fit Shen Qingqiu’s preferred styles— something with nature? And the weight needs to be comforting, not too light but not so heavy it’s a hassle to wear. He continues to ponder as he gets ready for bed, and puts his ideas away for more consideration tomorrow. 

(As he lays on the bed, the memories of sweet slices of fruit and rosy cheeks, peach blossom eyes and dark earth beneath his fingertips lulls him further to the sweet pull of sleep).

When Liu Qingge comes back to Cang Qiong, the first order of business is to see Shen Qingqiu. Not only does he need to cleanse his meridians, but there’s a very important gift to give. The bamboo house comes into his view, and he allows a small smile to cross his face at the familiar sight. As he knocks on the door, he wrestles his face back into one of cool indifference.

Nothing.

He knocks once more and frowns. Again, there’s no sounds of movement inside and the door doesn’t swing open to reveal glittering eyes and a pleased smile. It’s early noon— Shen Qingqiu should be up and running about. Judging by the amount of disciples milling about and giving him those looks, there aren’t any classes today and Shen Qingqiu normally waits until later in the day to go to the garden. And Liu Qingge knows that the Qing Jing Peak Lord is still home, as he can feel the man’s qi signature inside.

“Shen Qingqiu?” Liu Qingge calls out. Normally, the other man would come to the door and let him in with a smile, or at least call for him to come in. His worry increases as minutes pass with no sign of him. He hesitantly announces, “I’m coming in.”

Normally, he’d kick down the door, but the lack of Shen Qingqiu’s presence makes him hesitate. Instead, he turns the doorknob.

It’s unlocked.

The door swings open with ease and Liu Qingge immediately notices that despite it being unusually bright for a winter day, it’s completely dark inside the house. Shen Qingqiu must have used his light talisman (the man prefers to keep his house lit for as long as humanly possible, and Liu Qingge barely bites down the worry rising in his chest). He steps in quietly, and concentrates on Shen Qingqiu’s familiar and comforting qi signature. As he gets closer to where it’s focused, his heart drops.

It’s faint, but to his enhanced hearing, it’s louder than the greatest roar. There’s a weak but steady sound of raspy inhales and exhales. There’s only one person who it could be. In a rush, he quickly opens the door. The light inside is dim, but he can still see what’s in front of him.

“Shen Qingqiu!”

The man himself looks unwell, but he still tries to sit up to greet him. Immediately, Liu Qingge rushes towards his side. Shen Qingqiu only manages to lift his head before he makes it over. With a gentle hand, he barely pushes Shen Qingqiu down. The internal worry only continues to rise as Shen Qingqiu simply drops back onto his pillow, offering none of his usual resistance.

“Shidi.” Shen Qingqiu’s voice is rough, and he clears it before trying to speak again. “You simply caught this master sleeping in.”

“You’re sick,” Liu Qingge bluntly states. There’s no denying it— they both know it’s true. He internally curses— with Without a Cure raging through his meridians and his unusual sensitivity to the cold (not to mention the man’s love for both the winter season and his penchant for long walks), Shen Qingqiu was bound to get sick. Shen Qingqiu tries to wave him off, but he persists. “Don’t lie. Have you taken any medicine?”

“...En.” Shen Qingqiu hesitantly confirms after a pause. It’s so unconvincing that Liu Qingge almost snorts at the pathetic attempt to lie. “I feel fine.”

It would have been more convincing if Shen Qingqiu wasn’t covered with at least four different quilts and could sit up by himself. Sighing, Shen Qingqiu folds the blankets down and tries to sit up again, increasing the brightness of the room using the bedside light talisman. Liu Qingge completely freezes, and his breath feels like it’s stuck in his chest.

Shen Qingqiu is wearing a robe that he thought he would never see again. The robe is untied, but Liu Qingge can clearly tell that it’s too big anyways. The sleeves come down too far on his arms, past his hands. The collar comes down too far, exposing flashes of thin and silky inner robes.

It’s the robe that he had given to Shen Qingqiu. 

A spark of something electrifying runs down his spine at the sight. He hadn’t ever expected to see Shen Qingqiu in his colors again, wrapped in blue like an enticing gift. But not only that, there’s a delicious lick of its implications, of what it means to Shen Qingqiu— how it’s a comfort. For Shen Qingqiu to find comfort in Liu Qingge of all people, to wear his robe in the privacy of his home at his most vulnerable. It’s indecent, it’s shameless beyond all belief, but because it’s Shen Qingqiu, he finds that the embarrassment he would normally feel transforms into a rush of white-hot desire and affection.

It’s true that he’s loved Shen Qingqiu for a long time now— before he went to his family estate, before they began their garden together, and even before Shen Qingqiu shared those perfect strawberries for that very first time— but somehow, Shen Qingqiu has found a way to make him fall even more, even deeper. 

“Rest,” Liu Qingge gruffly speaks. The rush of emotions in his heart is overwhelming, and he closes his eyes briefly as he tamps it down before he acts stupidly. Gently, more gently than what anyone would expect of the Bai Zhan Peak Lord, he helps Shen Qingqiu lay down once more before folding his quilts back up. With a simple qi thread, he lowers the room’s light until it’s dark once more. He takes one hand and clasps it in his, nearly shuddering at the slide of fabric against his bare hands (and logically he shouldn’t, because he’s worn that robe countless times before without feeling nearly as jittery and nervous as he does now). “I will stay here.”

“I don’t want you to get sick,” Shen Qingqiu protests. Still, he doesn’t try to move his hand out of his grasp. “This shixiong does not want to harm his shidi.”

It stings to just be called his shidi, but Liu Qingge puts that aside for now. Right now, his most beloved shixiong needs to recover from his sickness. He’s never willingly played nurse before, but for Shen Qingqiu, it’s hardly a bother.

“Unimportant. Go to sleep.” He doesn’t let go of Shen Qingqiu’s hand, but he places his other one on his forehead. His feverish skin burns to the touch, and Liu Qingge hisses out sharply. “You’re burning up.”

Slowly, he lowers the temperature of his hand. It’s a trick he was taught as a disciple, and although it wasn’t taught with this purpose in mind, it’s still very useful. Shen Qingqiu melts under his touch, and his eyes flutter shut. With his other hand, he begins to send calming qi to Shen Qingqiu. It’s a deadly combination on Shen Qingqiu, and he begins to relax, his muscles loosening more and more, like he’s melting into the bed. In less than a quarter of an incense stick’s time, Shen Qingqiu falls asleep completely, his breath a steady pattern of shaky inhales and exhales.

After a while, Liu Qingge cuts off the thread of qi, but he doesn’t move an inch. Instead, he watches over Shen Qingqiu, carefully guarding him from anything that could disturb his uneasy rest.

“Ah, what good timing Liu-shidi,” Shen Qingqiu greets, as if Liu Qingge doesn’t come at the exact same time every day. If he’s honest, he doesn’t know when that started, but at some point, he had finally thrown out all sense of propriety and started to come every day (really, that’s a lie, because he stayed by Shen Qingqiu’s side the whole week that he was sick, and then he simply started to come everyday after that). Shen Qingqiu holds out a hand, and Liu Qingge slots himself by the Qing Jing Peak Lord’s side and grabs his hand. It’s simply a part of their routine now (it’s only a friendly routine, he reminds himself), and Shen Qingqiu lightly flutters his fan. “I was just about to head down to the garden. Shall we?”

“Not yet.” At his words, Shen Qingqiu looks over questioningly. Usually, they would immediately set out for the garden— daylight is limited, and although Shen Qingqiu’s light talismans are powerful, even they cannot encompass the entirety of their garden. “I have something for you.”

“Oh?” A brief, but delicious, flash of surprise crosses over Shen Qingqiu’s face. He smiles, bright and blinding. “You shouldn’t have.”

Liu Qingge tsks. Of course Shen Qingqiu deserves gifts. 

“Shut up. Close your eyes,” he directs. It’s easier to give his gift this way, and Shen Qingqiu mercifully decides to just follow his directions, although he dramatically shuts his eyes and pretends to swoon. Dramatic, he thinks fondly.

But carefully, Liu Qingge takes out the heavy cloak from his pouch. It’s rather extravagant— the Cotton Fluff Tiger’s fur lines the inside, pure white with several stripes of dark ink running through. The fine green brocade on the outside of the cloak, embroidered with images of lotus flowers, shines in the winter light. Of course, it’s not just any kind of fabric— he had the brocade made with silk threads collected from the lotus flowers that bloom in the lake near his family estate. It was a challenge to harvest and collect the materials for the cloak (not to mention finding tailors who could process and work the materials to his specifications), but more than worth it. There’s a matching fan made with the same silk brocade, of course; heaven knows the scholar loves to coordinate and match his outfits. 

Inwardly, he knows it’s a bit excessive for just a gift between sect siblings, but Shen Qingqiu needed a cloak anyways and he already had at least some of the materials… Besides, he had promised Shen Qingqiu to bring him more fans— and Liu Qingge is nothing if not a man of his word.

Carefully, he places it around Shen Qingqiu’s shoulders, clumsily buttoning it together. Shen Qingqiu’s eyes pop open in surprise, and Liu Qingge fondly watches as his eyes widen even further in delight. Shen Qingqiu sinks his hands into the dense and plush fur, explores and caresses the lotuses on the green silk outside. He drops the edge of the cape to clasp Liu Qingge’s hands with a truly impressive speed.

“Shidi,” Shen Qingqiu breathes out. His eyes sparkle, and he looks completely awestruck. The pressure on his hands increase slightly. “You… Ah, how am I so lucky?”

And in one smooth motion, Shen Qingqiu launches himself at Liu Qingge. His warm arms come up to cling around Liu Qingge, and he nearly falls over in shock. It’s not the first time that Shen Qingqiu has embraced him (he could never forget that night after he came back from hunting the Weeping Stone Wraith, the heat radiating off of Shen Qingqiu and how painfully intimate it all felt), but it’s the first time since then. Every muscle in his body bunches up, awkwardly tensing under the unexpected show of affection.

Shen Qingqiu simply pushes himself further into Liu Qingge, butting his head against him like a particularly affectionate cat. And no one can blame Liu Qingge for his next actions (he’s pined and wanted for so long, and if Shen Qingqiu freely gives him this, then no one can blame him for taking advantage of it)—

He allows himself to wrap his arms around that slender frame, settling them around the gentle dip of his waist. Shameless, shameless, his mind roars at him, and yet, he can’t even find it in himself to care. It’s made a lot easier because Shen Qingqiu makes a pleased noise in his arms, and he leans in even more. At this point, decorum seems like a joke, like absolutely nothing in the face of the completely devastating force that is Shen Qingqiu. 

“I will have to take very special care of this,” Shen Qingqiu promises. He pulls back a little bit (and Liu Qingge wants to close that distance once more, to be able to bring Shen Qingqiu close enough for the scholar to hear the rush of his heartbeat) and smiles, bright and unrestrained. There’s red painted all over his pretty face, and Liu Qingge stares at it. “Let shixiong repay you, I must.”

“Okay.” He mumbles. Shen Qingqiu could give him crumbs and he’d savor it like it was his last meal. “Okay.”

Together, they set out for their garden. And although Shen Qingqiu keeps his cloak on, his cheeks stay permanently stained with red.

Chapter Text

The sect meeting is a waste of time, in Liu Qingge’s opinion. It’s more of the same drivel. Shang Qinghua rants mindlessly and presents budget reports, ‘interesting’ findings, thinly-veiled but still meek requests to stop destroying so many buildings directed at him… Liu Qingge almost falls asleep with how boring it all is. It’s mostly just Yue Qingyuan and Shang Qinghua who actually pay attention to the content anyways. 

Shen Qingqiu at least pretends to pay attention, as expected of the Qing Jing Peak Lord, although Liu Qingge can tell that he’s just as bored. Every so often, his eyes wander away from Shang Qinghua and catch Liu Qingge’s (not that Liu Qingge has just been staring at him). Without fail, his eyes curve up into pleased crescents— and he (not so sneakily) tangles Liu Qingge’s hand with his under the table.

Several peak lords choke on their tea, and Liu Qingge’s face heats.

This… is new. Although they’re not bound to their respective seats, it’s expected that they sit according to rank. Shen Qingqiu has always been a stickler for rules and decorum— so for him to ignore the long-standing and unspoken rules is a surprise to them all. Although he would normally sit by Yue Qingyuan (much to the sect leader’s delight), he had chosen to approach Liu Qingge before the meeting instead, gracefully perching in the seat next to him and nodding in acknowledgement.

Yue Qingyuan seems to be the most affected of them all by Shen Qingqiu’s unexpected actions. Occasionally, his eyes flicker over to Shen Qingqiu and then move away dejectedly when he sees that Shen Qingqiu’s attention is focused on Liu Qingge. The pleasant smile he normally wears falters when he catches Shen Qingqiu’s poorly-hidden smile directed at Liu Qingge.

It’s a bit pitiful, if Liu Qingge’s honest. 

It’s an open secret that Yue Qingyuan has pursued Shen Qingqiu’s hand for years (decades, really) to no success. The only person who doesn’t know is the Qing Jing Peak Lord himself. Although, Liu Qingge would never tell him. If Yue Qingyuan wouldn’t say it out loud, then neither would he. 

And maybe he doesn’t need to, because Shen Qingqiu has draped himself in the gifts that Liu Qingge has given him. It’s almost a silent (but no less powerful) statement, one meant for only him and Shen Qingqiu to understand. It’s a statement that he knows is not true in his mind, and yet his heart purrs with satisfaction when he thinks it— he is mine. 

The cloak that he had gifted Shen Qingqiu hangs on the back of the man’s chair, the matching fan in hand. Although they’re simply gifts between martial siblings, it makes an overwhelming heat spread like quickfire in his veins. They both look like things that Shen Qingqiu would buy for himself— and perhaps that’s what the others think. Despite that, it doesn’t matter. He knows and Shen Qingqiu knows that they’re both from him. And for Shen Qingqiu to keep them, to take pride and wear his gifts, to carry them in such a public space…

Eventually the sect meeting ends. Normally, he would go back to Bai Zhan to train and test his disciples for a while and then fly to Qing Jing to meet with Shen Qingqiu and work at their garden. 

But before he can say his goodbyes, Shen Qingqiu turns to him, with a pout in his eyes.

“Liu-shidi,” he huffs. The Qing Jing Peak Lord, whose fingers have always been deft and clever, fumbles with the clasp of his cloak. Eventually he gives up, and tugs at Liu Qingge's arm pitifully. “Help me with this button.”

“Shameless,” Liu Qingge mutters lowly. His cheeks begin to color. Doesn’t Shen Qingqiu know that asking him to button his cloak is a sign that they’re romantic partners? He knows that Shen Qingqiu doesn’t mean it that way, and there’s that sudden pang of regret in his chest at that fact. But there are eyes on them— ones that wouldn’t nearly be so understanding. He harshly bites out, “Do it yourself!”

Shen Qingqiu nearly rolls his eyes, how childish, but insistently tugs on his arm again. 

“I wouldn’t ask if I could do it myself.” He grumbles. He sharply eyes Liu Qingge, as if Liu Qingge’s the one who’s said something wrong in this situation. One perfect brow lifts, and his arms cross. “Or should I ask someone else to do it for me?”

That’s even worse. It sends a shudder through Liu Qingge's system— his mind unhelpfully conjures up Shen Qingqiu cluelessly asking their fellow martial siblings and unintentionally proposing a romantic relationship. Mu Qingfang, Qi Qingqi, Yue Qingyuan, Shang Qinghua— for the sake of his mental state, he immediately censors all of it. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, he closes his eyes and mentally curses the heavens for even allowing this to happen. Roughly, he grasps the lapels of Shen Qingqiu’s cloak, ignoring his cute undignified squeak, and closes the clasp in one move.

“Don’t ask anyone else to do that,” he barks out. His face feels like it’s burning with embarrassment. There’s some shocked murmurs from the peak lords behind them— of course, Shen Qingqiu had to pick a time like this to do something so utterly immodest.

“Of course,” Shen Qingqiu says amusedly. Internally, Liu Qingge groans out (someone needs to reteach Shen Qingqiu the intricacies of decorum) but ultimately, he drops the perilous subject. Shen Qingqiu seems to recognize that he’s refusing to continue the conversation topic, and instead picks something new.

Surely, it can’t get any worse.

“Does shidi have some free time to spare?” Shen Qingqiu asks, as if he doesn’t know exactly what his schedule is anyways. Liu Qingge shakes his head. Shen Qingqiu’s smile grows. “Then, shidi should come early today. I’d like to spend some more time with you, just you and me.”

It gets worse. It gets much worse.

Behind them, he can hear a smattering of surprised noises (ranging from choking sounds to sudden coughs) from their fellow Peak Lords. His face heats even more, because the way that Shen Qingqiu has worded it makes it sound like… sound like a proposition. The Qing Jing Peak Lord had already asked him to fasten his cloak, with all of their conversation in full earshot of everyone. And with the suggestion to come early so they can spend time alone— implying that Liu Qingge already goes to Qing Jing regularly, implying that they spend a great deal of time together already, implying that Shen Qingqiu wants to get him alone— it sounds even worse. Even the peak lords who had at least politely pretended to mind their own business now look at them with open shock.

“Shen Qingqiu!” He hisses out, mortified. “What the hell are you—”

“It’s not like Liu-shidi doesn’t come nearly every day, what’s a little more time?” Shen Qingqiu lightly teases, unknowingly digging themselves further into a hole. The situation is spiraling out of control, and Liu Qingge is all too aware of Yue Qingyuan’s accusatory stare burning so hot he feels his skin catching on fire. “You know how much I—”

“Fine! Just, just stop talking!” He cuts Shen Qingqiu off quickly, before the man can say anything more. Seriously, for being the sect’s representative in political matters, Shen Qingqiu is surprisingly oblivious to what his words sound like. 

They’re not romantically involved! As much as Liu Qingge wishes that were the case, it’s simply not true. Shen Qingqiu has never even hinted at an interest in finding a partner, and to pick Liu Qingge of all people he could have is something out of his deepest fantasies. Besides, if they were partners, then Liu Qingge would know! He’s not ignorant— if Shen Qingqiu was his partner, then… then… 

That doesn’t stop the gossiping peak lords behind them, and Yue Qingyuan boldly comes up to the two of them, his intent more than crystal clear.

“Sect Leader.” They greet and bow together in respect (although, Liu Qingge’s traitorous mind whispers to him, those aren’t the bows you really want to do with Shen Qingqiu). Yue Qingyuan has a pinched look on his face, although his placid smile is still in place. 

“Shen-shidi. Do you have time to talk?” Yue Qingyuan’s eyes slide from Shen Qingqiu to Liu Qingge, and Liu Qingge’s muscles tense at the hard and sharp look in Yue Qingyuan’s eyes. “I’d like to ask you something.”

“Of course, Zhangmen-shixiong. This shidi also has a topic to discuss,” Shen Qingqiu replies. The formality of his response compared to the casual way he had talked to Liu Qingge of all people makes Liu Qingge wince, along with several of the peak lords still listening in to their conversation. He smooths out his expression quickly as Shen Qingqiu turns to him. The scholar offers a gentle smile to him as an apology. “Well then, I suppose we won’t be able to meet early today. I’m sorry, Liu-shidi.”

And the thing is, Shen Qingqiu truly does sound sorry. Even though Liu Qingge doesn’t like feeding the flame of gossip, he rashly decides to throw his hesitance to the wind for Shen Qingqiu. It’s the only time he’ll ever do this, so Shen Qingqiu had better appreciate it (Liu Qingge knows, of course, that that’s completely false. He’d do a lot of things for Shen Qingqiu, some of them he doesn’t even want to admit).

“It’s fine,” he awkwardly says. Feeling his face burn at the shameless words about to come out of his mouth, he takes a deep breath and prepares his mental strength. “...I’ll still go early today. I’ll wait for you in… in the garden.”

He winces at his statement— shameless! It sounds like a reply to Shen Qingqiu’s unintentionally suggestive statement. And to wait for Shen Qingqiu in the garden isolated away from most of Qing Jing… It’s too reminiscent of a forbidden meeting! Yue Qingyuan shoots daggers with his eyes, and Liu Qingge shudders. It’s absolutely worth it though, because Shen Qingqiu lights up at his words, perking up almost immediately. He beams at Liu Qingge, bright and joyful. 

“Mn.” Shen Qingqiu takes one of his hands and squeezes it, and Liu Qingge would reciprocate if their sect siblings (who still have not left, despite the meeting ending a while ago) would stop staring. As soon as he glares at them, most of their eyes slide away guiltily, as if they haven’t just been hanging around and gaping at them. After a brief silence, Shen Qingqiu drops his hand. “Then, I will see you soon.”

“Let us be quick, Zhangmen-shixiong. Liu-shidi has promised to wait for me.” Shen Qingqiu gives him one last lingering look before finally turning to Yue Qingyuan. 

“... Of course. I won’t keep you too long.” Yue Qingyuan agrees, tense. Shen Qingqiu moves with fluidity and grace as per usual, although noticeably quicker than normal (impatient, Liu Qingge thinks amusedly). Yue Qingyuan sends one last analyzing look to Liu Qingge before trailing after Shen Qingqiu, noticeably more stiff. As soon as they depart for a private meeting, silence descends upon the meeting room. There's the rustling of robes as people shift around behind him, afraid to speak in case Yue Qingyuan or Shen Qingqiu overhear anything.

The door shuts behind them and a moment of silence stretches out, like the calm before the storm. Liu Qingge uses the opportunity to quickly dart out of the hall, dodging the nosy questions of his fellow Peak Lords. As soon as he steps outside the meeting hall, he jumps onto Cheng Luan and jets off, leaving them all behind in the dust.

Liu Qingge escapes easily— he’s the fastest flyer out of all the peak lords by far— and heads for the garden immediately. The whipping winter chill feels like nothing against his skin, but he craves the feeling of warmth from the garden anyways. 

As he approaches the garden, he carefully begins to descend. 

(The last time he had descended too quickly, the poor plants had suffered from the intense bursts of air and nearly a quarter of the ones near where he had landed snapped in half. Shen Qingqiu had been so angry that he was banned from the garden for several weeks, and Liu Qingge will never forget the relief he felt once Shen Qingqiu finally forgave him).

He quickly moves to a shadowy spot under one of the pergolas, and delicately plucks a flower off of a Lavender’s Love Wisteria hanging off of the structure. It reminds him of Shen Qingqiu. He nearly scoffs at how ridiculous and inane of a statement that is— of course it reminds of Shen Qingqiu. Shen Qingqiu is the one who planted it in the first place, introduced it to him with a gentle smile in place and a pleasant, but no less interesting, lecture.

He allows himself to get lost in his thoughts, and really, he should have known better than that.

“Liu-shidi!” Shen Qingqiu barks out. 

His voice is icy sharp like the blade of Xiu Ya, cutting through his thoughts. His green-clad figure storms up to him, clearly angry. Liu Qingge nearly jumps, because Shen Qingqiu has never been so angry with him post qi-deviation, even when he had accidentally harmed their plants. Perhaps Yue Qingyuan had told him exactly what his actions and words implied in their private meeting (and in all fairness, perhaps Liu Qingge should have at least tried to inform him). He tries to rack his brain for anything else he might’ve done, and without realizing it, Shen Qingqiu closes the distance between them in the blink of an eye. 

This close up, Shen Qingqiu looks frazzled, like something has shaken the always composed and unshakable Qing Jing Peak Lord. His fan waves agitatedly in one hand, the fingers of his other hand clamp down on the fur of his cape. Before Liu Qingge can even ask what’s even gotten into him, Shen Qingqiu interrupts—

“Be honest with me, did you know that Yue Qingyuan was…” Shen Qingqiu’s face twists into a grimace, as if the upcoming words physically pain him. “Pursuing a courtship with me?”

Ah. It seems like Yue Qingyuan finally confessed his affections— but Liu Qingge can’t help but feel puzzled at Shen Qingqiu’s reaction. Since Shen Qingqiu’s qi deviation (and subsequent personality change), it seemed like Shen Qingqiu had finally become friendly with their Sect Leader, if a little distant. If there’s anyone who could win Shen Qingqiu’s hand, it would be Yue Qingyuan. 

His gut twists at that, knife-sharp, but it’s true. It’s only in Liu Qingge’s wildest fantasies that Shen Qingqiu returns his affections. As much as Liu Qingge wants (and by the heavens, does he want) the always enrapturing company and the thrill of that slender hand in his for the rest of his immortal life, it’s a wish that he knows can never be fulfilled. He may be the Bai Zhan War God, but compared to Yue Qingyuan, he’s a fool of a soldier. After all, Yue Qingyuan is one of the strongest cultivators in their generation. His wisdom and kindness is well-known outside of Cang Qiong, and his shared history with Shen Qingqiu is obvious. If there's anyone that could hold Shen Qingqiu's affections…

It’s only when a dangerous pressure builds around his hands that Liu Qingge comes back to reality. Shen Qingqiu clenches onto his hands, his grip so strong it turns his fingers white. The slats of the pergola are wide, and a small bit of winter sun falls through and positions itself right across the upper half of Shen Qingqiu’s face. But what really catches his notice is the way that the shadow and light play across Shen Qingqiu’s face and his eyes— ever enthralling, ever spellbinding— look at him with an emotion that he can’t name. It’s an odd look, raw and real. Shen Qingqiu had told him once that the eyes are the window to the soul— and he understands now. Looking into Shen Qingqiu’s eyes feels like looking at the very thread that weaves the fabric of Shen Qingqiu’s soul. 

Shen Qingqiu’s mouth moves, and Liu Qingge belatedly realizes that he’s been speaking the whole time.

“What?”

At his interruption, Shen Qingqiu pauses whatever he was saying. His eyes soften— and there’s that all-encompassing trust shining through— before he speaks.

“I rejected him. Yue Qingyuan.” Shen Qingqiu’s voice rings out in the air. Liu Qingge blinks. He couldn’t have heard that right. Maybe his senses have finally turned on him, because there's no way that Shen Qingqiu has truly said that. “I don’t want his affections. I’ve never wanted them.”

Shen Qingqiu comes closer, and suddenly, Liu Qingge is trapped in an embrace. Liu Qingge closes his eyes, and holds back a sigh. It’s clear to see that Shen Qingqiu is shaken, and he’s looking to his most trusted shidi for support and comfort. It must have been a shock for Shen Qingqiu to be confessed to so suddenly, and out of nowhere.

“It’s alright,” he awkwardly soothes. Carefully, he moves his hand underneath Shen Qingqiu’s cape and lets it run down the length of his spine in a comforting motion, eventually settling at the small of his back. His other hand joins at the same place, gently holding Shen Qingqiu close. Shen Qingqiu holds onto him, showing no signs of wanting to be let go (or to let go, for that matter).

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Shen Qingqiu asks, his voice right in his ear. He sounds upset, like he doesn’t understand why Liu Qingge couldn’t have told him this. “You should have said something to me.”

“...It wasn't my place to,” he states hesitantly. And it’s completely true— it’s a matter that only involves Shen Qingqiu and Yue Qingyuan. It would have been wrong for him to intervene, despite his own feelings. It’s a popular trope in the books that Ming-mei takes interest in (a love triangle, apparently), but not something suitable for reality. He’s also more than aware of what Ming-mei thinks of his relationship friendship with Shen Qingqiu. In any case, the idea of sweeping in and confessing his love like a fool to Shen Qingqiu while Yue Qingyuan is there too makes him shudder. 

Shen Qingqiu pulls away, and he must read something on his face, because his face suddenly softens and the corners of his mouth drop, like Liu Qingge has said something truly pitiful. One of his hands comes up to Liu Qingge’s face, and although he’s never done that before, Liu Qingge lets him (propriety be damned). His clever fingers gently cup the side of Liu Qingge’s face, and it takes nearly all of Liu Qingge’s power to not lean in and give in to the barely-there pressure.

“Liu-shidi. I’m sorry.” Shen Qingqiu locks his gaze onto him, looking at Liu Qingge with an intensity that sends a shiver down his spine. “I’m so sorry. Forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

“Shidi— no, Qingge.” Shen Qingqiu corrects himself. “Qingge.”

The address of his personal name sounds sweeter than anything else. Shen Qingqiu has addressed him fondly before— Bai Zhan’s finest, my dearest shidi— but never this. Always a compliment, always shidi, but never Qingge.

“Yes,” Liu Qingge breathes out. He feels awestruck, his mind sharply aware of the sensations around him, his world narrowed down to this singular moment, to the patch of soft grass that they stand on and the air that they breathe in and out together. The rasp of silk against his weathered palms, soft cloud-like fur brushing against the backs of his hands. The gentle and all-encompassing feeling of Shen Qingqiu’s hand held against his face. “Yes.”

“Let me make it up to you. Let’s go home now.”

“Okay,” Liu Qingge murmurs. “Let’s go.”

Chapter Text

Shen Qingqiu is maddening. 

He’s always maddening, with the way that he smiles at Liu Qingge and the teasing jokes and the way that he continues to pull on his barely-there restraint, as if he’s trying to get Liu Qingge to finally let go and act on his desires. 

But it’s getting worse than before.

“Qingge, should we go down for dinner today?” Shen Qingqiu speaks mindlessly, words spilling out of his mouth without a second thought. He’s leaned all the way back, not even bothering to at least pretend to support his weight. Liu Qingge’s hands move a little further down (not too far, but certainly getting close) to support him. He loops his arms around Shen Qingqiu’s waist, but Shen Qingqiu doesn’t bother to call him out for his bold action— a small mercy. “As a thanks for cleansing my meridians.”

It’s nowhere near proper to be doing this— the act of cleansing meridians is intimate enough. Even the simple passing of qi through Shen Qingqiu’s wrist is intimate (with cleansing meridians being so closely linked to dual cultivation, it’s not like he had a choice and it happened to be the least… scandalous of all of the options). But Shen Qingqiu had whined and insisted on how tired he was, and please, won’t Qingge do it from the back—

Liu Qingge had stormed out of the bamboo house after that, breaking down Shen Qingqiu’s front door in his flustered haste to retreat. It took a week for him to stop blushing when he saw Shen Qingqiu, because of course he kept visiting Qing Jing out of pure habit, and by the end of it, he vowed to at least teach Shen Qingqiu what his words implied.

(He never ended up successfully teaching him. And to make matters worse, he ended up doing the qi transfer through Shen Qingqiu’s back in the end, much to the man’s obvious satisfaction).

“Mn,” he distractedly agrees. Like this, Shen Qingqiu overwhelms his senses. There’s those dizzying physical sensations of a warm and solid weight against him, of thick hair streaming down and clinging to his body. 

It doesn’t escape him just how intimate they look together. With the way that Shen Qingqiu leans all the way back, his eyes shut and face smooth with calm, it looks nothing like what two martial siblings should ever look like together. It’s certainly not helped by the fact that Liu Qingge has his arms around Shen Qingqiu’s waist (to steady him, he tells himself) and the way that he allows Shen Qingqiu to close the gaps between them, until the only thing that separates their bodies is the fabric of their robes.

Liu Qingge knows he shouldn’t take advantage of his shixiong in this way, because Shen Qingqiu still doesn’t know about his affections. But when he thinks about saying it out loud, about having to sit down with Shen Qingqiu and be truly honest with him, it’s close to torture.

The pure betrayal, the hurt on Shen Qingqiu’s face when he found out about Yue Qingyuan’s rather blatant romantic endeavors is more than enough to convince Liu Qingge that it’s a bad idea. And if that reaction was from Yue Qingyuan, who was (according to Shen Qingqiu) more like an older brother than anything, then an unwanted confession from the man who he trusts the most, a confidante, would be…

It feels like dragging his heart, already freely bleeding, through fields of jagged glass for it to tear up even more. He can’t do that to Shen Qingqiu. It would be nothing short of a betrayal of Shen Qingqiu’s trust in him.

Liu Qingge is more than aware that the way that Shen Qingqiu doesn’t hesitate to take his hand, to lean into him like this, and speak so familiarly and fondly is because he trusts Liu Qingge. And while he knows that Shen Qingqiu can never reciprocate the affections that he holds, this is enough. It’s enough to know that, for now, Shen Qingqiu trusts him enough to invite him into his life and ply him with sweet fruit from their garden.

With all of that in mind, it’s only fair that he allows Shen Qingqiu to take and take from him. All of it is freely given anyways. It’s only when they step outside that they must take on the lofty mantles of peak lords. But here, in the quiet intimacy of the bamboo house, it is simply two men— one unaware of his power, and the other all too aware of his feelings.

“Shen Qingqiu.” He carefully shakes the other, who has fallen asleep against him. “Wake up.”

“Qingge?” Shen Qingqiu sleepily calls out, coming out of his dreams. He blinks like a particularly sleepy kitten that Ming-mei used to have. It’s infuriatingly adorable, yet somehow not out of place on Shen Qingqiu. “What is it?”

“Liu Minghui.”

“What?”

Shen Qingqiu looks up at him, his mouth turning in confusion. It’s reflected in his eyes— always so expressive. Liu Qingge’s breath is momentarily caught, but he continues.

“My name. You can call me that, if you want.”

Maybe he’s overstepping, because this has taken a turn from any sort of questionably platonic field they were lightly treading into something serious. No one calls him by his birth name anymore— not even his parents. When he had been given his courtesy name, he had embraced it wholeheartedly. And yet, there is no one else who he wants to hear his birth name from more. 

He wants to hear it roll off of Shen Qingqiu’s tongue, for Shen Qingqiu’s clever mouth to twist and bend into the shape of his birth name. He wants to hear the contour of those syllables in the familiar baritone that coaxes fire to burn low in his stomach. He wants to hear—

“Minghui.”

Shen Qingqiu looks up at him with fond eyes. And it’s not enough just to hear it once. Liu Qingge wants to hear it more. He wants to hear it again and again and again, because he could never get tired of the way that Shen Qingqiu forms his name. He wants to hear it in every way possible— with a sweet trill of excitement, with barely-hidden satisfaction when he convinces Liu Qingge to do something for him, and with white-hot desire lacing its every movement in a heady rush.

It seems that Shen Qingqiu sees his desire written plain on his face, because he says it once more— “Minghui.”

And then, Shen Qingqiu pauses. A flurry of emotions pass by on his face, too quick to be named. He sits up, and Liu Qingge disappointedly lets go of him. Shen Qingqiu stands and, in one smooth move, reseats himself. Not further away from Liu Qingge, and not on the chair beside him, and decidedly not on the extremely plush floor cushions.

No, he reseats himself on Liu Qingge’s lap.  

Liu Qingge freezes, his body petrified into stone in just seconds. There’s that familiar coil of heat forming in his lower abdomen, his blood pumping to a place where it absolutely cannot go. His hands flounder, unsure of where to land. His lap is being occupied, and Shen Qingqiu’s legs bracket his body, long and endless lines leading up to the flesh of strong and pale thighs, up to the curve of— oh gods.  

He nearly qi deviates at the thought.

Without much thought, his hands settle in the dips of Shen Qingqiu’s waist (even though they’re familiar to him at this point, it still tugs at his conscience to even think about touching there).

“Shen Qingqiu!” His face is so hot, it burns. Isn’t Shen Qingqiu supposed to be the one with the thin face? Surely, his knowledge on decorum hasn’t been wiped so completely that he thinks it’s appropriate to sit in Liu Qingge’s lap, like… like. Before he can stop himself from thinking it, his heart unhelpfully supplies him with the rest of his unfinished sentence— like a lover. It’s not the first time it’s happened, but it feels much more intense here in the quiet intimacy of the bamboo house.

“Won’t Minghui call me by my name?” Shen Qingqiu leans in closer and closer. Liu Qingge nearly goes cross-eyed trying to keep his eyes on him. Petal pink lips approach, and Liu Qingge nearly gives in to his desire to lean in and meet his undeniably enticing shixiong halfway. His heart feels like it’s beating erratically, ready to jump out of his chest. But Shen Qingqiu turns his head at the last possible second, and whispers into Liu Qingge’s ear instead (he shoves down every little shred of lingering disappointment). “Shen Yuan. Call me by my name, Minghui.”

“Shen Yuan.” 

The name is a little odd— didn’t Yue Qingyuan call him Shen Jiu, Xiao Jiu? But then again, it was only ever Yue Qingyuan that called him that. Shen Yuan is unfamiliar, new. But he finds that Yuan sounds much more pleasant than Jiu ever did, and feels better rolling off of his tongue. It suits Shen Qingqiu. 

“Shen Yuan,” Liu Qingge tests out again. Without much thought he adds, “Xiao Yuan. A-Yuan.”

And surely, that’s too far. Shen Qingqiu Yuan had only given his permission to be called by name. The endearments are far too intimate for him to even speak out loud, surely reserved for someone else. Shen Qingqiu pulls away and turns red at his words, clearly embarrassed by Liu Qingge’s overstepping. He’s about to apologize when Shen Qingqiu covers his mouth with his sleeve. The cool silk fabric brushes against his lips, and Liu Qingge clams up at the sensation.

“Minghui, you…” Shen Qingqiu stutters out. “Truly too deadly, especially with that voice… You can call me that, but only at home.”

“Mn.”

Shen Qingqiu has been oddly relaxed, letting Liu Qingge overstep boundary after boundary today. And Shen Qingqiu has certainly broken many of them too, although that could just be because he doesn’t remember etiquette. 

He looks at Shen Qingqiu’s reddened face, and wonders.

How far will Shen Qingqiu let him push? At what point will Shen Qingqiu realize that his actions are not that of a confidante, or a friend, or even a particularly loyal martial sibling? At what point will Shen Qingqiu figure out that his affections have never been as platonic as he’d thought?

“Minghui is so good to me,” Shen Qingqiu praises. He wraps his arms around Liu Qingge’s shoulders and leans in, nestling his face in the space between Liu Qingge’s neck and shoulder. He breathes in shamelessly, and Liu Qingge shudders at the pleased sound that escapes Shen Qingqiu’s lips before the man pulls away. Shen Qingqiu looks at him far too tenderly, a hand anchored on Liu Qingge’s shoulder. “Haaa… If I had it my way, then shidi would never leave.”

Liu Qingge freezes at that. But he can’t deny the simple truth— it sounds good. He’s dreamed about it before— a domestic fantasy where he simply stays at home all day with Shen Qingqiu, where neither of them have to attend to their Peak Lord duties. And it doesn’t bother him anymore that he’s started calling Qing Jing home. He may be of Bai Zhan through and through, but the golden honey of sunsets of Qing Jing (and its Peak Lord) have become a second home for him. 

“Can I…” Liu Qingge starts stupidly. Every possibility that could come out of his mouth is bound to be worse, he thinks, and then he goes ahead and proves it by finishing lamely: “Stay for the night?”

Stupid.

What kind of idiotic request is that? Shen Qingqiu is a gracious host, but to stay for the night is a major request. And the implications that come along with it— their fellow Peak Lords already think that they’re in a relationship! Qing Jing Peak is famous as a hotbed for gossip, and Shen Qingqiu’s beloved disciples are extremely protective of him— especially that curly-headed one. He knows that they keep track of him, of the time that he comes and the time that he leaves. They’ve already noted his arrival today. If they were to find out that he stayed at Qing Jing for the night, exiting Shen Qingqiu’s house in the early morning…

He shudders. Even thinking about it, it sounds too much like Ming-mei’s romance novels (watchful eyes, a forbidden meeting between two lovers turned into a night of passion, two bodies intertwining in the throes of passion)— he stops his thoughts right there, furiously blushing. Shen Qingqiu would never agree to his stupid request, and to even think about such shameless material when Shen Qingqiu is still sitting on top of him is even more appalling. 

“Of course!” Shen Qingqiu lights up, somehow delighted by Liu Qingge’s incredibly shameless question. He traps Liu Qingge in an affectionate embrace, every inch of their torsos pressed together, before leaning back a bit. “Shidi is always welcome to stay with me. Do you need to go back and get anything before tonight?”

“...En.” If he’s honest, Liu Qingge thought he would get a firm, but gentle no. He certainly didn’t expect such an enthusiastic reply from Shen Qingqiu. 

“There’s no rush. Stay a little longer,” Shen Qingqiu coaxes, trying to persuade him as if Liu Qingge looks like he wants to leave this very second. 

“Fine.”

It’s not like he can even move anyways— Shen Qingqiu hasn’t moved from his perch, and he’s trapped under the more than welcome weight of his body. It’s a good thing that Shen Qingqiu only does this when they’re alone. If Shen Qingqiu even attempted this at a sect meeting… Even with how weak Liu Qingge is to the man, that would be a firm no. In retrospect, it’s incredibly lucky that no one has seen them like this. 

It’s, of course, as soon as he thinks this that the door swings open.

“Shizun!” A distraught voice chokes out. “And… Liu-shishu?!”

Liu Qingge feels shame and embarrassment rise up in his throat, nearly choking him. His muscles spasm in an instinctual attempt to get up and leave, but Shen Qingqiu pins him with a look that makes him freeze. His chair faces away from the door, and Shen Qingqiu’s weight pinning him in place means that he can’t turn to look at the disciple who’s entered. He’s not even sure that he wants to look. Shen Qingqiu looks up from where he sits and firmly scolds, “Binghe. This master has told you many times to knock before you enter.”

That’s the name of that curly-headed one, Liu Qingge recalls. There’s an awkward moment of silence before Shen Qingqiu finally peels himself off of Liu Qingge, but certainly not getting off of his lap. How shameless! Even with the man’s disciple walking in to see them so intimately positioned, Shen Qingqiu still hasn’t gotten off! To make matters worse, Shen Qingqiu raises his hand and twirls the end of his ponytail between his fingers. 

His hands reflexively clamp down on Shen Qingqiu’s waist. 

Shen Qingqiu stiffens, face red, before his eyes trail down to meet Liu Qingge’s. Liu Qingge’s face is red too, and Shen Qingqiu brings his other hand up to the side of Liu Qingge’s face and cups it, the smooth palm covering the burning rush of blood to his cheeks. Luo Binghe makes a distraught noise similar to a wounded animal, and Shen Qingqiu seems to finally remember that his disciple is still standing there.

“Go bring some refreshments for your shishu and I,” Shen Qingqiu directs. The red tint hasn’t left his cheeks. “Unless there’s something urgent that requires this master’s attention?”

“No, shizun. This disciple apologizes for the… interruption.” Luo Binghe  says, although it sounds like he’d rather choke than apologize. There’s no doubt in his mind that if Shen Qingqiu wasn’t looking at him, then that kid would be shooting him the dirtiest look possible. Or maybe he is, and Liu Qingge can’t see it. 

“Dismissed. And next time, knock.”

With that, the door finally swings shut. 

“Sorry Minghui,” Shen Qingqiu sighs out. He offers an apologetic smile, and it’s completely unfair how it almost makes Liu Qingge forgive him for how shamelessly he acted. 

Almost.  

“He really does need to learn how to knock some time. Perhaps this master has been lacking in that regard.” Shen Qingqiu finally moves off of his lap, standing up and straightening his robes. Liu Qingge reins in the feeling of utter disappointment he feels. “Shidi must be thirsty. Why don’t I bring out some tea?”

And then, Shen Qingqiu bends down, a wicked glint in his eyes. There’s barely any space between their faces, and Shen Qingqiu teases him: “Unless Minghui is feeling a different kind of thirst? Shidi can ask for anything he wants.”

“Shen Yuan!” Liu Qingge bites out and Shen Qingqiu simply laughs, before straightening up with a wink and wandering off into the kitchen. He doesn’t even know what the ‘different kind of thirst’ refers to, but he knows that it has to be something incredibly shameless. Shen Qingqiu is far too tempting— for a split second, Liu Qingge wonders if the Qing Jing Peak Lord has somehow been replaced by a succubus. It would certainly explain the maddening look in his eyes, that sultry baritone voice and his all too seductive actions.

And the worst part of it all is that Shen Qingqiu is completely unaware. 

If it were anyone else, then Liu Qingge could reliably and accurately label these actions— these propositions— as romantic intent. But it’s Shen Qingqiu that he’s talking about, the same Shen Qingqiu that didn’t see Yue Qingyuan’s very blatant and painfully long attempts to win his hand (attempts which, up until his rejection, spanned over literal decades). If Liu Qingge’s completely truthful, Shen Qingqiu just seems… untouchable. He’s too much like the stories of peerless immortals, unaware of the earthly wants that seem to plague all others. Sometimes, it feels like Shen Qingqiu has truly become detached from any mortal and earthly wants such as the pursuit of romance. Or at the very least, he doesn’t recognize it. It would certainly explain why Shen Qingqiu acts this way.

He leans back into the chair, and holds in a sigh.

It’s going to be a long night.

After a very awkward trip to Bai Zhan and a discreet flight back to Qing Jing, Liu Qingge stands in front of Shen Qingqiu’s door. The sun is near setting, slowly sinking into the horizon. Before he can even (carefully) knock, the door swings open.

“Come in, shidi.” Shen Qingqiu smiles sweetly at him, Liu Qingge nearly falls over at what he sees. Quickly, he steps in and locks the door before anyone can see. He leans his head against the door, closing his eyes. He takes several deep and calming breaths before turning around and addressing Shen Qingqiu.

“You! Don’t answer the door looking… like that!” 

Shen Qingqiu, that foolish man, opened the door with only his inner robes on! They’re white silk, and so close to transparent it’s a wonder that he’s still decent. They’re also not tied correctly, because the collar begins to slide off a shoulder (his bare shoulder, pale and flawless skin), and Liu Qingge has to shut his eyes against it to protect himself from the tempting vision. After a short pause, he opens his eyes to see Shen Qingqiu’s amused expression. He’s at least pulled his inner robes back onto his shoulder, and it looks at least somewhat more decent than before (which isn’t much, but it’s better than nothing).

“Shidi was at my door, though. Should I have just ignored you?”

“Yes!” He splutters, his cheeks going far too red. Shen Qingqiu must have gotten out of bed and made it his mission to torture Liu Qingge today, because between sitting in his lap and then inviting Liu Qingge in with barely any clothes on, he’s driving Liu Qingge insane. “You… go put some clothes on!”

“Fine, fine.” Shen Qingqiu has the nerve to laugh, before he begins to walk with a flutter of thin silks trailing him. Liu Qingge nearly stares shamelessly at his shixiong, before remembering himself and slapping himself for even thinking about shaming Shen Qingqiu like that. Speaking of Shen Qingqiu, he disappears into his bedroom only to reappear moments later with a very familiar blue robe— it hangs off his frame, far too loose and large on him. Shen Qingqiu hasn’t even bothered to tie it either, and his inner robes look extra bright against the blue of the robe. Shen Qingqiu raises one eyebrow at the quickly-reddening skin of his cheek, but chooses to comment on something else: “Is this better?”

Shen Qingqiu crowds into his space, half-lidded eyes and a little smirk in place. “Well? Doesn’t it suit me?”

“Yes,” Liu Qingge bites out. He tries not to think too hard about it as he takes the sash of the robe and ties it, somewhat successfully closing it.

Just a couple of weeks ago, he had thought it incredibly shameless to button Shen Qingqiu’s cloak in front of all their martial siblings. He had also thought that Shen Qingqiu couldn’t possibly get any more tempting. And then, in the space of one day, Shen Qingqiu has already managed to completely surpass his actions from before and also tempt Liu Qingge into acting just as shamelessly.

“Thank you, Minghui.” Shen Qingqiu responds sweetly, although there’s still a hint of mischief there. “You should go change now, before bed.”

“Mn.” 

Shen Qingqiu leads him into the bathroom, before squeezing his hand with a smile. And with one last comment— “I’ll wait for you”— he’s gone. Liu Qingge makes quick work of his clothes (he doesn’t wear nearly as many layers as Shen Qingqiu does, and that’s a dangerous thought to get lost in) before changing into the set of sleep clothes he brought. It’s a simple shirt and pants combination, and after splashing his face with some desperately-needed cold water, he walks back out with the bravery fit for a Bai Zhan War God.

It almost leaves him as soon as he exits, because Shen Qingqiu looks undone— his outer robe already slipping off somehow, hair unbound and rumpled. He lights up upon seeing him (a sight that Liu Qingge could never tire of) and wordlessly pulls him along. 

Liu Qingge nearly chokes at what comes next. Rather than lead Liu Qingge into a guest room, Shen Qingqiu brings him to his bedchambers. Taking his hands, leading them both into his personal chambers… Shen Qingqiu is truly too tempting. Shen Qingqiu then nudges him to the seat in front of his vanity, and Liu Qingge mindlessly sits, still reeling from the fact that Shen Qingqiu has invited him to his personal bedchambers. Shen Qingqiu gently squeezes his shoulders with a brief, but delicious pressure.

“Let me return a favor. Minghui has done so well, making sure that this master looks proper and presentable.” Shen Qingqiu’s hands dance upwards, before gently playing with the ends of his hair tie. “Let me take care of you too.”

Shen Qingqiu can’t possibly know. But it makes Liu Qingge’s mind go dead still, the roars of his heart calm into a gentle and possessive purr. He had already buttoned Shen Qingqiu’s cloak, even tied the sash to his robes (a robe that he had given him, no less). To anyone else, it would have been a sign of an established courtship, or maybe a very forward gesture of intent. But with Shen Qingqiu reciprocating it, it would be a confirmation. A positive response to his court, a clear and resounding yes.  

Shen Qingqiu, unknowingly, has accepted his court. 

“A-Yuan,” he calls out. Shen Qingqiu turns red in the mirror, but he persists. He closes his eyes and leans into Shen Qingqiu’s steady presence behind him. It’s easier to get out the utterly shameless words this way, and he lets the words fall out of his mouth before he can overthink it: “With me… You can always do this with me.”

He knows that it’s not real.

Shen Qingqiu hasn’t really accepted his courtship, but for now, Liu Qingge lets himself pretend. He can’t really find it in himself to care, because Shen Qingqiu unties his hair and lets it fall. There’s only a moment of pause before Shen Qingqiu’s hands begin to comb through his hair, twisting it between clever fingers and playing with the long strands. Shen Qingqiu should really be combing his hair and oiling it, but it doesn’t matter. It feels good to have Shen Qingqiu behind him like this, deft fingers massaging his scalp and thoroughly exploring the length of his hair. He melts into the touch, and allows Shen Qingqiu to play with his hair as much as he wants.

After an indeterminate amount of time later, Shen Qingqiu gently taps his shoulder, satisfied.

“Let’s go to bed, Minghui.” Shen Qingqiu coaxes him up from his seat, before leading them both to his bed. Any amount of relaxation that was in his bones immediately seeps out, replaced with a burning fire. Shen Qingqiu can’t seriously be suggesting… 

“Let’s share. It’s not like we haven’t done so before.”

He is suggesting it, apparently. Liu Qingge tries not to turn red at the offer to share his bed— oh gods above, Shen Qingqiu is serious— but fails miserably. It’s true that on missions, they’ve “shared the bed” before. Of course, Liu Qingge had never actually done so; he usually meditated on the floor (or at least tried to) while Shen Qingqiu slept soundly above him. And all of those times before, it was out of necessity. 

Shen Qingqiu sharply pulls on his arm, and the unexpected force actually causes him to stumble, and he actually topples over face-first into Shen Qingqiu’s open arms. He lands with a grunt, and the bed shakes from the force. Shen Qingqiu lets out a small noise of surprise too, as if he wasn’t expecting the weight. Stupid. Liu Qingge lets himself fall in the space beside the Qing Jing Peak Lord, rolling over to face him, and freezes at the look on his face. It’s that smile again, the soft one that makes his heart jump up behind his throat.

“There we go. Isn’t that better, Minghui?” Shen Qingqiu smiles up at him, the subtle curve of his pink lips bewitching. “Now, lay down with me.”

Liu Qingge weakly submits this time, and very carefully lays down in the space next to Shen Qingqiu, careful not to touch. Every other time, he turned red and stuttered out some kind of version of ‘shameless,’ but now? If Shen Qingqiu wants him here, then he’ll take it. At this point, it would only take nothing short of a miracle to make Shen Qingqiu understand the implications behind his actions. 

Shen Qingqiu carefully moves closer to him, and Liu Qingge holds back yet another sigh. It’s obvious what he wants, and at this point, Liu Qingge can’t even deny that he doesn’t want it either. It’s tiring to continue denying his feelings, and if Shen Qingqiu wants it too, then… In a simple move, he brings Shen Qingqiu close to his body, and tucks his head against his chest. With a lazy thread of qi, he extinguishes the light talisman on the bedside table.

Moonlight from the window still leaks in, a soft silvery glow that bathes them both. Liu Qingge should go and close the gauzy curtains, but his limbs don’t feel like listening to his mind and he simply lays still. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t seem bothered by it either, and if he doesn’t mind it then it’s not an issue at all.

“...This is nice,” Shen Qingqiu comments, before curling a little more into his side. One of his hands plays with the fabric of Liu Qingge’s sleep shirt. One long and slender leg comes up and hooks around Liu Qingge’s. Liu Qingge’s face glows red, and he mentally begins a calming technique— one that’s seen far too much use today. “Shixiong is very happy.”

“Go to sleep, A-Yuan.” Liu Qingge closes his eyes, and wills himself to calm down and not think about the sparks of heat that try to gather in a very… inappropriate place. “I will be here tomorrow.”

“Fine,” he hears Shen Qingqiu huff out amusedly. “Good night Minghui.”

“Good night.”

Shen Qingqiu’s breath eventually deepens, slowing into an unconscious but steady rhythm. And somehow, the comforting weight of Shen Qingqiu’s body against his and the warmth emanating from him, as well as his steady breath combine into a deadly situation that pulls Liu Qingge deep into a sleepy state. But just before his consciousness fully escapes him, Liu Qingge confesses: “I love you.”

It’s the actions of a coward to finally be honest to a man who can’t respond, but Liu Qingge still feels the skip of his heartbeat when he says it out loud to his unresponsive audience. It’s the kindness of his dream that he imagines the sleepy response of “I love you too” and Shen Qingqiu curling more into his side before Liu Qingge finally drifts off.

Liu Qingge is trying his hardest as Shen Qingqiu continues his war on decorum. Unfortunately, his efforts seem to be for nothing. When the strategist of Cang Qiong goes to war, he is ruthless. Shen Qingqiu is merciless on the battlefield against Liu Qingge’s sanity, and he does an excellent job at warfare. 

There’s the physical battle that batters the doors of his fortress— the sly touches, the gentle hands that play with his hair, the way that he curls into Liu Qingge and refuses to let go. It’s freely given affection, and it would take a man much stronger than Liu Qingge to resist his shixiong’s maddening charms. As it stands now, Liu Qingge can’t help but soak up every single touch, every shred of affection that Shen Qingqiu gives him. 

But what’s far more devastating is the psychological damage that’s wrought. Shen Qingqiu, with the graceful flick of his fan and the flutter of silk sleeves, has begun to tear down his boundaries with a vicious, but addictive, vengeance. And horrifyingly, it’s worked. Liu Qingge’s become so relaxed with Shen Qingqiu that the insanely shameless things that Shen Qingqiu does barely affects him anymore.

In winter, he had hesitated to hang his robes next to Shen Qingqiu’s. Now, their robes mix together in Shen Qingqiu’s dresser, green and blue fabric swirled together. Shen Qingqiu ‘borrows’ his clothes often, ranging from sleep clothes all the way to his outer robes (he can only hope that Shen Qingqiu doesn’t wear them outside of the bamboo house— and now that he thinks of it, he immediately ignores that thought. Shen Qingqiu isn’t dumb. He definitely knows not to do that outside the privacy of the bamboo house). If his younger self, still bitterly angry with Shen Qingqiu, could see him now… Well. He’s not sure if his younger self would ever recover from the shock.

“Qingge,” Shen Qingqiu idly calls. He rests his head in Liu Qingge’s lap, dark hair unbound and spilling out freely. His eyes close and he lets out a content noise when Liu Qingge gently cards his fingers through his hair. One hand lifts upwards lazily, and Liu Qingge catches it with his free hand in a familiar gesture, one that never fails to make his breath catch. Shen Qingqiu brings their combined hands down to his chest, before smiling up at Liu Qingge. “Mn, just like that. Can you stay for dinner tonight?”

Dinner isn’t usually just dinner. Dinner is also Shen Qingqiu’s way of asking what he really wants— and what he’s really asking is if Liu Qingge can… sleep over.

They do nothing inappropriate, besides sharing a bed despite the fact that they’re not partners (Liu Qingge is not a religious man, but he prays with the fervor of a believer that his parents never find out about this). They wash up and dress separately, and then Shen Qingqiu will tease him before they inevitably lay down together. And then… nothing. Shen Qingqiu is a menace when it comes to his personal space— the man is extremely clingy, and immediately curls up into Liu Qingge’s side. But there’s no more that happens after that. Shen Qingqiu simply drifts off into sleep.

And in the mornings, Liu Qingge watches Shen Qingqiu come back into the world of the conscious, his sleepy eyes turning affectionate as he spots Liu Qingge still laying beside him. His hair fans out on the pillow, shining in the golden light of dawn. It’s everything that Liu Qingge could have ever asked for. And yet, it’s not enough— it could never be enough.

“Yes, I can.” Liu Qingge squeezes Shen Qingqiu’s hand, before returning to his ministrations. “Is there something you want tonight, A-Yuan? I can go get it for you.”

Usually, Shen Qingqiu would just call for his disciples to bring their dinner. It’s not normal for Liu Qingge to offer something like this, but Liu Qingge’s been thinking. 

Maybe… maybe Shen Qingqiu wouldn’t be opposed to being partners. Cultivation partners. Lovers, maybe even husbands if he plays his cards correctly. The thought makes him flush with heat, with want and desire. It’s no secret that Shen Qingqiu enjoys his company and finds comfort in his presence. Shen Qingqiu also likes the physical touch that he provides too; the way that he melts into Liu Qingge is more than enough proof. 

So maybe, just maybe, Shen Qingqiu would like a little more. Because as much as Liu Qingge is infinitely grateful for what Shen Qingqiu has given him, he is a greedy man. He wants more. He wants to be able to embrace Shen Qingqiu first, without having to wait for him to initiate. He wants to be able to make the first move, to know that his touch is always wanted, instead of being at the whim of Shen Qingqiu’s own wants. He wants to hold Shen Qingqiu at the waist, to intimately know every single plane of skin, the lines and dips, the curves that sculpt his body. He wants to mark Shen Qingqiu as his, red marks across previously unblemished skin and give him the best robes he can commission with shades of blue and green swirling together like watercolor pigments.

Liu Qingge wants to secure all of it, to make sure that no one else can ever have it. He doesn’t want anyone else to have the pleasure of Shen Qingqiu’s hands intertwined with theirs, or the sight of Shen Qingqiu’s pleased little smiles. He wants to monopolize the attention that Shen Qingqiu gives him, to make it his and know that it’s his and his alone.

And so far, Shen Qingqiu hasn’t shied far away from him. So maybe, Shen Qingqiu would be open to accepting his court. It comes at the risk of his shixiong rejecting him, of a cold and bitter freeze overcoming the budding spring of their friendship. But when he thinks of that enticing reward, rather than the risk, it’s easy to convince him what he should do next.

Liu Qingge’s not a strategist, but he can do a couple things. He can carefully ease Shen Qingqiu in, small gestures to show him what he’s capable of. If Shen Qingqiu seems receptive, he can continue this slow dance until he finally works up his courage to ask.

And it starts with dinner.

Chapter Text

Shen Qingqiu sits across from him, the low candlelight illuminating his figure. He happily brings a spoonful of curry up to his mouth, making far too inappropriate noises in his delight. The wooden chopsticks in Liu Qingge’s grip crack. 

It’s the third pair he’s gone through since they’ve started dinner.

It’s a good thing he’s brought some disposable chopsticks— even with how fond Shen Qingqiu is of him, Liu Qingge doubts he’d be pleased if he found out that he’d already broken three sets. He secretly replaces them with a new set, but Shen Qingqiu doesn’t even seem to notice. He picks up a piece of duck with his chopsticks, and Shen Qingqiu finally addresses him, a smile curving his lips and a pleased blush affixed to his cheeks: “Qingge, this is so good! It’s very delicious. It must have been expensive; you truly spoil me.”

“Mn.” Liu Qingge grunts in acknowledgement, before popping the piece of duck in his mouth. It’s nice and crispy, flavorful and rich in all of the best ways. Even though he normally doesn’t eat, he can admit that it’s delicious. It was only on the recommendation of Ming-mei that he had even stopped by the place— although, he could have done without her knowing looks and her teasing words as he flew off. 

“Have you tried the duck?”

“No, I haven’t. Is it good?” Shen Qingqiu asks genuinely, peering over. He’s about to pick up a piece with his chopsticks when Liu Qingge gets an idea. Quicker than what Shen Qingqiu can move, Liu Qingge quickly spears the best piece on the plate with his chopsticks, then brings it up to Shen Qingqiu’s mouth. 

“Try it,” he awkwardly demands. Shen Qingqiu blushes a little harder, but he leans forward and takes the meat off the end of his chopsticks. Liu Qingge blushes too. Even though he was the one to instigate it, it doesn’t change the fact that Shen Qingqiu’s lips, his mouth touched the ends of his chopsticks. 

There’s an awkward-feeling moment, and when Liu Qingge blinks back to reality, Shen Qingqiu holds a spoon full of golden curry up to his mouth. It’s fragrant and the rich scent of spices makes his mouth water. There’s a piece of perfect crispy pork belly in the spoon too. Liu Qingge knows for a fact that the pork belly is Shen Qingqiu’s favorite— he was especially pleased about it— so to offer it to him brings a warm feeling to his chest.

“Have some,” Shen Qingqiu requests. His face is just as red as Liu Qingge’s, and he feels comforted by the fact that Shen Qingqiu is just as affected. “It’s very good.”

With a bravery that only comes with the title of War God, Liu Qingge opens his mouth and lets Shen Qingqiu put the spoon (the very same one that he was eating out of) in. It’s true that the curry is very good— it’s flavorful and tangy, but not so spicy that he needs to wash it down with tea.  The flavor spreads on his tongue and the pork belly crunches between his teeth satisfyingly. He can see why Shen Qingqiu likes it so much. If the food on Cang Qiong was even half this good, he would definitely be more open to eating more often. Swallowing the spoonful of food, he allows Shen Qingqiu to take the spoon back.

“It is very good,” Liu Qingge acknowledges. He takes the opportunity to lean forward, propping himself up on his elbows. Shen Qingqiu’s eyes go wide, but he leans in a tiny amount as well. Liu Qingge holds back from chastising him for his unashamed actions, and lets a small smirk cross his lips. “Would A-Yuan share some more with me?”

It’s already taking a substantial effort to not devolve into a blushing mess, and he’s not sure he’s even succeeding. His cheeks feel too hot for it to be otherwise. But in return, Shen Qingqiu wordlessly stands, taking the food from his side of the table to relocate himself next to Liu Qingge. There’s another awkward pause as they size each other up, waiting with bated breath for the next move.

Liu Qingge strikes first. 

Liu Qingge picks up a piece of duck for himself, and then once he finishes it, he picks up another choice piece for Shen Qingqiu. It’s similar to the way that they share fruit— and yet, it’s completely different. Shen Qingqiu immediately grasps his intentions. And rather than turning away, he turns his face closer.

“Shidi takes such good care of me,” Shen Qingqiu murmurs. “This shixiong will receive it gratefully.”

Shen Qingqiu leans in some more— completely unnecessary, given how closely they sit. But Liu Qingge is more than fine with it, and he allows Shen Qingqiu to lean more into his side, before carefully lifting his chopsticks up for Shen Qingqiu to receive. And after Shen Qingqiu finishes the duck, he takes one spoon of curry for himself before gifting another to Liu Qingge.

Bite by bite, piece by piece, they finish the food together.

After Shen Qingqiu finishes with Liu Qingge’s hair, they normally head to bed. It’s simply the way that it goes. 

But tonight, Liu Qingge tugs on his sleeve. He has a plan to enact.

Tonight, he wants to return the favor. He wants to be the one to comb Shen Qingqiu’s hair, to run his fingers through unhurriedly and make the man melt under his touch. Shen Qingqiu has always been receptive to the touch, to the sensation, but Liu Qingge has never initiated it.

Until tonight.

Shen Qingqiu amusedly takes his seat in front of the vanity, and Liu Qingge begins. Shen Qingqiu smiles in the mirror, and tips his head back to allow Liu Qingge easier access. It’s not the first time he’s touched Shen Qingqiu’s hair before, far from it. Still, he can’t help but marvel at its beauty. 

It’s still slightly rumpled from Shen Qingqiu’s hairpiece, but other than that, it’s perfectly smooth and straight. The locks are dark and shiny, even without various haircare oils to make it that way. He lifts one perfect lock in appreciation— despite how heavy it is, it’s still silk-soft in the roughened skin of his palms. It flows out of his hands like freshly ground ink, spilling out and creating dark waterfalls. He picks up a wide-tooth comb on the vanity next to him, and begins to slowly pass it through the length. It would certainly hurt if he accidentally pulled on any snarls or tangles hidden within the dark depths. But surprisingly, there’s none there. Carefully, he works through all of Shen Qingqiu’s hair, combing from the roots to the lengths that rest down his spine. After his inspection, he switches to the fine-tooth comb and begins again. It wouldn’t do to accidentally miss any issues, so he takes his time. 

Despite his thorough inspection, the work finishes early anyways. Shen Qingqiu’s hair holds no knots or tangles for him to unpick, and the combs glide through with ease. Still, Liu Qingge is unwilling to part. His fingers carefully run through Shen Qingqiu’s hair, and he revels in the novel sensation of being able to explore at his own pace, giving in to his own desires. He gently twists locks between his fingers, sometimes picking up small sections and clumsily braiding strands. He braids until he reaches the ends of the length, and then undoes it, smoothing it back down to its previous state. And then, he moves to another spot, and does it again.

Shen Qingqiu, already relaxed, is nearly catatonic by the time Liu Qingge finishes. His head lists dangerously to the side, but Liu Qingge gently uprights him, allowing him to lean against his chest. Liu Qingge allows himself to indulge in the feeling, and sits for longer than necessary as Shen Qingqiu blinks hazily between reality and his dreams. But they both must go to bed and with some reluctance, Liu Qingge carefully moves from his seat. Shen Qingqiu continues his back-and-forth between slumber and the waking world, somehow undisturbed by it all.

With a gentleness completely uncharacteristic of the Bai Zhan War God, Liu Qingge picks Shen Qingqiu up and places him on the bed. Shen Qingqiu tries to catch his sleeve and prevent him from leaving— adorable, he thinks with a warmness in his heart— but Liu Qingge is much too fast and silently dodges the grasp. Shen Qingqiu frowns, but is easily placated with the weight of a blanket covering his body. While Shen Qingqiu finally gives in to sleep, Liu Qingge quietly cleans up, recorking the oils and putting them into their proper places. After what seems like an eternity, he finally finishes. He turns off the light talisman beside the bed, and quietly shuffles under the blanket, trying not to wake Shen Qingqiu up. 

It ends up being for nothing though, because Shen Qingqiu moves closer to him, before throwing his arm over his chest and tangling their legs together. He says nothing, but it’s clear that he’s displeased over being in bed alone. Liu Qingge wouldn’t normally do so, but he throws his shame to the wind and returns the embrace. He flips onto his side and throws one arm over to rest at the small of Shen Qingqiu’s back. He pulls Shen Qingqiu even closer and closes his eyes, ignoring the small noise of surprise that Shen Qingqiu lets out.

There’s a short moment where Liu Qingge regrets his choice— maybe he’s been too forward, he didn’t want to scare Shen Qingqiu off— but it turns out that it doesn’t matter at all. Shen Qingqiu lets out a sleepy, but happy noise and cuddles closer. He falls back asleep almost immediately, an impressive feat. Liu Qingge waits for a couple minutes, and then some more. He wants to be absolutely sure that Shen Qingqiu’s asleep. And finally, when he’s ready, Liu Qingge confesses once more: “I love you.”

His confession falls on deaf ears, to a man who isn’t even aware of his feelings. But in time, perhaps he’ll finally confess when Shen Qingqiu is awake, capable of processing his statement. With the truth having fallen from his lips, Liu Qingge lets his eyes close. Sleep comes easy to him, and it takes no time at all to follow Shen Qingqiu in dream.

Liu Qingge buys a gift. 

It’s not a fan, like what he had foolishly offered to buy Shen Qingqiu nearly several months ago at this point. It’s not an interesting book, or a plant, or any of the other miscellaneous items that he would buy for Shen Qingqiu.

It’s just a tassel, and simply that— a tassel. There’s a carved green jade piece on it, and the threads are a uniform dark green. By no means is it the most beautiful tassel, or the best quality. The strands are somewhat unevenly trimmed, the jade splotchy and unevenly colored. In truth, it’s simply something that he bought on a whim. But it’s the carved design that gives him pause.

Engraved infinity knots run along the surface of the jade piece, covering every visible area.

An auspicious symbol, one that wishes luck and fortune. It’s an innocent gift— well, it would be if not for the fact that infinity knots were also popular for a different symbolism between lovers. Liu Qingge’s face heats. He’s accidentally stumbled across disciples exchanging infinity knot tassels with each other, heavy blushes on their faces. He’s seen couples in the street, with matching infinity knots affixed to their belts. He’s even had to deal with Mingyan’s intense discussions about their usage in her romance novels.

(Liu Qingge will never tell Mingyan about this gift— although her interpeak sources have probably reported back to her about this).

Still, he bought it for Shen Qingqiu. It’s an easier gift to give; the intention behind it gives him pause, but he doesn’t even have to really explain it. 

In his belt is yet another one of Shen Qingqiu’s fans. The man had dropped it after one of their walks together, typical of Shen Qingqiu. From there, it was easy to simply attach the tassel to the rivet. 

“You dropped this.” Liu Qingge looks away as he gives the fan to Shen Qingqiu. It’s just a tassel that he bought from some random shopkeeper. It really shouldn’t have this effect on him. He clears his throat roughly before speaking. “Take better care of your things.”

Shen Qingqiu at least has the decency to blush in embarrassment and apologize: “I didn’t even realize that I had dropped it. Thank you, Liu-shidi.”

He takes the fan with gratitude, and as expected, his sharp eyes immediately begin to inspect the affixed tassel. He doesn’t say anything about it at first— instead he simply looks. Liu Qingge bristles a bit. If Shen Qingqiu liked it, then he would have said something by now. Instead, he keeps staring at it. Shen Qingqiu has never given him this kind of reaction before. Liu Qingge grits out, “You don’t have to keep it.”

It was a stupid mistake.

Liu Qingge should have realized that Shen Qingqiu would have no use for such an ugly tassel, especially when he has such beautiful accessories, delicately wrought silver jewelry and lovely silken threads, that he already wears. Shen Qingqiu keeps the gifts that his disciples give him, but there’s a large difference between what a Cang Qiong disciple can afford versus a Peak Lord. It’s a cheap gift compared to what he can actually afford— so cheap it might even seem like an insult. He tries to snatch the fan out of Shen Qingqiu’s hands, embarrassed. He wants to rip that stupid tassel right off, and crush it under his boot, pulverizing the cheap jade into powder.

“No!” Shen Qingqiu, for some reason, keeps a stubborn hold on his fan and refuses to let go. Liu Qingge scowls at him, and Shen Qingqiu glares back too, pouting childishly. “It’s mine, I want it!”

“Don’t lie!” Liu Qingge snaps out. It was already embarrassing enough now that he’s reflected on his poor gift choice— Shen Qingqiu might be trying to save face now by assuring that he wants it, but it stings more when he pretends to truly like it. “If you don’t want it, then don’t keep it. Just throw it away!”

“No! You bought it for me! Don’t try and take back a gift!” Shen Qingqiu holds the fan close to his chest, cupping the tassel protectively. It’s just a cheap trinket, something that truly holds no value. Shen Qingqiu’s face turns red, and he mumbles his next sentence: “I was just surprised, all of shidi’s gifts are appreciated.”

“Whatever,” Liu Qingge responds gruffly. The matching red on his cheeks does absolutely nothing to make his words convincing, but he tries anyways. “You don’t have to lie about it. Throw it away, for all I care.”

It’s stupid, because he does care. He bought it without a second thought, not because he thought that Shen Qingqiu would enjoy it, but because he wanted to give it. He had wanted— and he wants— to be the one to give Shen Qingqiu stupid little trinkets, clichéd gifts that are exchanged between every set of lovers.

Shen Qingqiu carefully tucks away his fan into one of his qiankun sleeves. Cautiously, he approaches Liu Qingge like he’s a scared animal two heartbeats away from bolting into the wilderness. It’s utterly ridiculous, but he allows Shen Qingqiu to do so anyways. Eventually, Shen Qingqiu finally gets close enough and shyly embraces him, leaning his head against Liu Qingge. He’s only a little bit shorter than Liu Qingge, but it’s still enough of a difference that he can easily lean his head against Liu Qingge, landing in the junction between his neck and shoulder.

“I’m serious. I truly do like it,” Shen Qingqiu insists, his words ghosting over Liu Qingge’s neck in a hot breath. His arms tighten around Liu Qingge, as if trying to convey his sincerity. “Please shidi, let me keep it. Please?”

“Fine.” Liu Qingge holds Shen Qingqiu a little closer too. Hesitantly, he tightens his embrace too, careful not to hurt the man in his arms. “Since when have I ever been able to stop you?”

Shen Qingqiu has the nerve to laugh— though they both know it’s true. And if Shen Qingqiu keeps the tassel on his fan, then it’s nobody’s business but his.

Shen Qingqiu has a certain affection for what he considers cute. 

He tries to hide it— the Qing Jing Peak Lord is not moved by such trivial matters, he says— but it’s the truth. Liu Qingge has seen more than enough evidence of it. His disciples are cute (much to his curly-headed disciple’s dismay), his plants are cute (Shen Qingqiu often coos at them for growing so well), and even the dangerous fauna outside of Cang Qiong are cute. He’s had several well-meaning talks with Shen Qingqiu about the dangers of them filled with genuine concern, exasperation, and worry with… mixed results (it’s not Liu Qingge’s fault that the Qing Jing Peak Lord has a built-in weapon of a pout that just so happens to be his weakness). The point is that Shen Qingqiu is very much weak to cute things.

And these fish that Liu Qingge’s found are revoltingly cute.

There’s eight in total, all with differing markings. Their scales are splashed with streaks of whites, reds, oranges, blacks, and golds. They have the colorations of the sleek and elegant koi fish that he knows Shen Qingqiu lovingly keeps in the Qing Jing koi pond— except for the fact that these fish are incredibly fat. It’s a surprise they can even move around with how round they are. They bumble around in the clear water, nearly bumping into each other despite having no visual impediments. They’re just naturally clumsy creatures, he supposes. When he puts his hand just above the water's surface, the fish excitedly surge up and brush against his palm like they’re waiting to be pet. They’re clearly a prey item, and it’s impressive that they’re not extinct with the way they so openly trust him. 

Shen Qingqiu will love them. The man nearly adopts every animal he sees, falling in love with each creature that even so much as blinks back at him. These fish just so happen to be friendly, outgoing, and infuriatingly adorable. He knows that Shen Qingqiu will absolutely delight in their friendly and sweet disposition, coo in fondness as they clumsily bump into each other, and have his heart melt when they come up and kiss his fingertips under the water’s surface. It’s the perfect gift.

And luckily for him, they’re also incredibly stupid. He opens his specimen collection pouch (one of Shen Qingqiu’s new prototypes that he promised he’d try out) and begins to collect the clear water. As he dips the pouch into the water, the fish curiously approach before just swimming in. Liu Qingge’s never had such an easy time with collecting live animals. He pauses in shock as the fish swim in and just stay in the pouch, apparently content to be taken away. All eight of them swim in, one after another. He peers inside just to confirm that they’re all there, and they begin to crowd at the surface, eager for some of his attention. Some water begins to splash out of the pouch from the increased activity.

The edges of his lips twitch upwards at their antics. 

Carefully, he closes the pouch. His original goal of finding interesting flowers to give Shen Qingqiu long forgotten about, he begins the flight back to Cang Qiong. His flight is long and boring, and he occasionally stops to open the pouch and simply pet the fish. They’re eager companions that enjoy his company, and they swim in the pouch merrily. The only bad thing is that he’s probably going to have to dig a new pond for them to live in. Shen Qingqiu would probably have to clear out yet another plot— maybe they can place the pond near the medicinal herbs that the man insists on growing.

… Now that he thinks about it, wasn’t he supposed to go collect some medicinal herbs for Mu Qingfang in the first place? He lands in the middle of a forest and searches his qiankun pouch. He swears prolifically, before stepping back onto Cheng Luan and jetting back in the direction that he just came from.

He knew he forgot something.

Shen Qingqiu is an idiot.

His back is wide open, and he hasn’t noticed the man hiding behind the wide trunk of the spirit tree. Liu Qingge wants to very gently hit the man and make him see some sense for once— Without a Cure’s only sapped him of his cultivation! It shouldn’t be so easy for Liu Qingge to stalk behind him with Shen Qingqiu completely unaware.

Shen Qingqiu is very lucky that Liu Qingge has already silently sworn to protect him for as long as he’s allowed.

But that doesn’t mean he’s not going to play a prank.

In complete silence, he sneaks up behind Shen Qingqiu. And with the determination of a predator, he pounces on his unsuspecting prey. He covers Shen Qingqiu’s eyes with one of his hands, and privately delights in the gasp of utter surprise that he lets out. With the other arm he pulls Shen Qingqiu close. Shen Qingqiu panics in his grip, briefly struggling before Liu Qingge leans in close.

“Caught you.”

Shen Qingqiu melts when he realizes who’s holding him— and that does something to Liu Qingge, his heart skipping a beat. What does it say that as soon as Shen Qingqiu knew it was Liu Qingge, he stopped struggling? What does it say about their relationship that even though Liu Qingge’s snuck up on him and played a prank, Shen Qingqiu hasn’t tried to pull away yet? The scholar huffs in annoyance— “Liu-shidi! You’re too mean!”

Shen Qingqiu tries to pull Liu Qingge’s hand off his eyes, but he stops him with a quiet shush. Liu Qingge chuckles slightly, before whispering in that lovely ear once more.

“Behave.”

Shen Qingqiu freezes like a prey animal at his words, and a lovely blush starts to creep up, from the elegant line of his neck to high and sharp cheekbones. It truly does feel like he’s a big bad predator, and Shen Qingqiu is the little animal that he’s about to devour. Shen Qingqiu stammers, “Y-Yes.”

Satisfied, Liu Qingge hums against Shen Qingqiu’s ear and holds back a grin when he feels a shiver. With his free hand, he takes the specimen pouch out from his belt. Finally, he lets his hand drop from Shen Qingqiu’s eyes. Shen Qingqiu looks down curiously at the pouch, clearly puzzled.

“Didn’t you say to test it?” Liu Qingge plants his chin on Shen Qingqiu’s shoulder, hunching over slightly to rest it there. “Open it, A-Yuan.”

“Oh!” Shen Qingqiu excitedly pulls Liu Qingge’s hands up and positions them flat, like a makeshift table. Liu Qingge lets out an amused snort and lets him push and pull as he pleases. Eventually Shen Qingqiu finally pulls open the specimen pouch’s cord, peering inside, and he gasps in delight. “Oh!”

From the way he’s standing, Liu Qingge can see it too— the koi have all come up to the surface, excitedly pushing against each other in an attempt to get the first pets. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t even hesitate— he immediately brings his hand to the mouth of the pouch.

And exactly as Liu Qingge had predicted, Shen Qingqiu nearly melts into a puddle as they butt up against his hand. In their excitement, the fish begin to splash merrily, water coming out and over the opening. It gets all over the front of Shen Qingqiu’s extremely expensive robes, but the man clearly couldn’t care less. Liu Qingge watches fondly as Shen Qingqiu begins to babble nonsense to the fish— sweet little words of praise and musical noises of delight. 

“Do you like them? I thought you said you didn’t like cute things?” Liu Qingge teases Shen Qingqiu. If his hands were free, he’d love to wrap them around Shen Qingqiu… 

“Minghui!” Shen Qingqiu turns his head and their foreheads nearly come together. Shen Qingqiu’s never been this close to him— like this, the gentle puffs of his breath mixes with Liu Qingge’s breath. Liu Qingge might go insane if this goes on for too long, or maybe he already has. Shen Qingqiu’s eyes close, long and dark lashes fluttering. “I love them, of course I do. You knew I would.”

His heart skips a beat in his chest. Although he doesn’t know it, Shen Qingqiu’s words set fire to his skin— I love. Of course Shen Qingqiu loves. He loves with a passion, loves everything from his disciples to the snow that crunches under their feet when they wander Qing Jing. But there’s one combination of those words that Shen Qingqiu will never say to him that he desperately wants to hear— I love you. Shen Qingqiu looks at him with such fondness, that Liu Qingge almost gives in to the desire to kiss him, the one that’s been a constant part of his life for far too long at this point. He unconsciously leans closer— and is it just his hopeful imagination that Shen Qingqiu looks like he’s leaning in too? Shen Qingqiu licks his lips, and Liu Qingge leans in closer, closer, just a little more—

Unfortunately, it’s at that exact moment that the fish in the specimen pouch decide that they want the attention back on them. With a deadly accuracy, one of them squirts a stream of water right at the side of Liu Qingge’s face. The water dribbles down, from his cheek to his clothes. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t get a single drop on him.

It’s impressive, he’ll give them that.

Shen Qingqiu laughs at him, before leaning into his chest a little more and turning back to the fish to scold them for misbehaving. It sounds like the way he scolds his disciples— that is to say, it doesn't even sound like discipline at all.

He huffs, and leans a little more into Shen Qingqiu’s warmth. Might as well enjoy the moment while he can.

Chapter Text

“I will be taking my leave soon.”

Yue Qingyuan nods at Liu Qingge’s words. At this point, it’s simply a formality— like clockwork, Liu Qingge dutifully reports his trips back home every three months. It never takes more than a month at most, and Bai Zhan peak is self-sufficient enough to sustain itself without him. But in truth, there’s another reason why he’s here. Normally, Liu Qingge would leave as soon as he reported his upcoming trip, but he needs to do this. Liu Qingge takes a breath before hesitantly adding, “...I’m taking Shen Qingqiu with me.”

That gets Yue Qingyuan’s attention. He looks at Liu Qingge, his gaze suddenly hardened. It’s not too surprising, really. After all, Shen Qingqiu’s rejection must still be fresh in his mind and for Liu Qingge to suddenly bring up that Shen Qingqiu will be spending an extended amount of time with him… Despite what Yue Qingyuan may think, it’s not his way of claiming his stakes, nor is it a way to flaunt an imagined and unearned victory in his face. Awkwardly, Liu Qingge shifts in his seat and mutters, “He said he wanted to come with me.”

(In truth, his parents had actually written a rather pointed letter inviting Shen Qingqiu to visit alongside Liu Qingge. Odd— his parents never send letters to him. Still, Liu Qingge had dutifully relayed the invitation to Shen Qingqiu, who had immediately perked up and enthusiastically accepted. But Yue Qingyuan didn't need to know that.)

Yue Qingyuan’s lips purse at his statement. Despite Shen Qingqiu’s lack of romantic interest, there’s no denying that Yue Qingyuan still has a soft spot for him. It’s hardly an egregious request from Shen Qingqiu anyways. The Sect Leader shuffles a small sheaf of papers on his desk as he ponders. For once, Liu Qingge patiently waits for a response. Shen Qingqiu has pestered him enough about his terrible manners, and getting on Yue Qingyuan’s bad side while he tries to get his request granted is not a good idea.

“I will ask Shen-shidi today.” Yue Qingyuan speaks mildly. He shuffles the same sheaf of papers again, clearly distracted. “Dismissed.”

Good enough for him. Besides, if Shen Qingqiu really wants to go, he can just pout at Yue Qingyuan if the sect leader is feeling especially unsure. As he steps outside, he absent-mindedly jets off towards Qing Jing. On the way, he contemplates what they’ll do today: tea first, of course, then off to the garden to dig the new koi pond.

He should’ve seen it coming, in all honesty. Of course, Shen Qingqiu loved those fish so much that he wanted to dig them a brand new pond in the garden so he and Liu Qingge could always easily visit them. It’s just that Shen Qingqiu’s started his newest joke with their fish—

Shidi should take responsibility, Shen Qingqiu had idly started in the middle of tea. Liu Qingge nearly choked on the apple rabbit that Shen Qingqiu had given him, but the man didn’t seem to notice. Are these not our children? What will I do without my children’s father to help me raise them?

Liu Qingge valiantly tries to tamp down the blush on his cheeks from the memory. Hopefully, Yue Qingyuan won’t question his presence at Qing Jing too much, or the strange lack of propriety. It would be extremely bad if he walked in on them like Shen Qingqiu’s disciple had that one time.

On second thought… Maybe he shouldn’t go to Qing Jing tonight. Yes, tonight, he’ll stay on Bai Zhan and meditate during the night instead of wasting time and sleeping.

(He still goes to Qing Jing in the end. Yue Qingyuan arrives soon after, and after a private talk with Shen Qingqiu, the matter is resolved. Yue Qingyuan narrows his eyes as he leaves, clearly suspicious about how Liu Qingge hasn’t moved from his seat to leave yet and the lack of distance between him and Shen Qingqiu. Is it wrong that Liu Qingge feels so smug about it?)

Liu Qingge’s parents stand at the gate of the Liu estate, clearly waiting. They must have seen them coming from a mile off— Shen Qingqiu’s green silk cloak and his blue traveling robes stand out sorely in the glittering and powdery white of the snow. Behind him, Shen Qingqiu nervously bristles. As they come closer, Shen Qingqiu begins to hide his nerves and slips on the mask of the cool and collected Qing Jing Peak Lord. His parents don’t try to hide their curiosity at all, but the Lius are infamous for their stone faces anyways. 

“Mother, father.” Liu Qingge greets his parents respectfully. They nod in acknowledgement, but it’s obvious that they’re interested in something else. His mother’s eyes haven’t left Shen Qingqiu’s cloak— the same one that he had made from the Rabbit Fluff Tiger that he had hunted last time. With an awkward nod, he introduces them: “This is Shen Qingqiu, the Qing Jing Peak Lord.”

“Master Liu, Madam Liu.” Shen Qingqiu bows deeply to them, deeper than what Liu Qingge’s ever seen before. He takes a long moment before rising again, as if he truly wants to impress how much respect he holds for them. “This one is honored to meet you.”

“It is an honor to meet you as well, Peak Lord Shen.” His mother acknowledges him, and his father gives a short grunt. Shen Qingqiu’s lips nearly twitch up (if Liu Qingge had to guess, it’s because of the very obvious habits that he’s picked up from his father). “Come, let us speak inside.”

Ah. The invitation to come inside is merely a pretense, polite words to signal what his parents are really after: an interrogation. Shen Qingqiu has no idea that it’s coming though, because Liu Qingge foolishly forgot to warn him on the flight up. He waits until his parents are a safe distance away, and tugs on Shen Qingqiu’s sleeve to get his attention.

“They will ask questions.” Liu Qingge bluntly states. Shen Qingqiu almost looks… alarmed at the prospect. Liu Qingge frowns a bit. He’s used to the interrogation, but Shen Qingqiu is an intensely private person. Hoping that his parents don’t turn around and see the incredibly shameless display, he catches Shen Qingqiu’s hand and tangles their fingers together.  Squeezing in a sign of comfort, Liu Qingge drops his voice to a murmur that only Shen Qingqiu should be able to hear: “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I’ll make them let you go rest, I can deal with them.” 

“Thank you shidi,” Shen Qingqiu replies. His eyes crinkle, a grateful smile curling his lips. He looks as handsome as always, beautiful. It’s a sight that Liu Qingge will never be able to forget. “You’re too kind. It’s alright though— you’ll be there with me.”

Shen Qingqiu doesn’t drop his hand, even when his parents catch them in the act. Liu Qingge puts on the straightest face he can and calls upon the strength of his title as War God to aid him with keeping it there. Strangely, his parents say nothing about their intertwined hands (even though it’s completely unusual for him, and definitely not appropriate behavior). As they finally walk into the estate, Shen Qingqiu’s eyes widen in surprise.

“What a beautiful home,” Shen Qingqiu murmurs quietly. “Shidi’s parents must be very proud.”

“Mn,” he confirms. The Liu estate was built by his relatives from generations and generations ago. Since then, it’s been passed down from generation to generation like a treasured family heirloom. No major renovations have been made to the house either— the dark wood, the arched glass windows are all original.

Eventually, the four of them arrive at the interrogation room. Liu Qingge and Shen Qingqiu wait, and seat themselves once his parents do. One of the maidservants serves tea— although the woman looks far too excited upon seeing Shen Qingqiu. Eventually, she excuses herself politely and shuts the door with a gentle click.

The interrogation is about to begin. Shen Qingqiu straightens in his seat, though he still keeps his respectful attitude. Liu Qingge carefully moves his hand over to Shen Qingqiu under the table— if he’s sneaky enough about it, then perhaps his parents won’t see the movement…

“Qingge, go back to your room. We’d like to talk with Peak Lord Shen alone,” his father suddenly says. Liu Qingge nearly jerks back in surprise, his hand freezing in place. Usually it’s his mother who leads the interrogation conversation. His father has never spoken the first word— he likes to simply sit and nod along, communicating with actions rather than words. And for his first words to be an order to go back and leave Shen Qingqiu alone with them… It’s a bad idea. He opens his mouth to argue. 

“But—”

“It’s alright,” Shen Qingqiu interrupts him. Liu Qingge studies Shen Qingqiu’s face—  still pinched and drawn, shoulders taut. It doesn’t look alright, but then Shen Qingqiu uses his deadliest weapon. It’s that face, a deadly combination of hopeful eyes and small pout that Shen Qingqiu knows he’s weak to and uses shamelessly to do whatever he pleases and get whatever he wants out of Liu Qingge. “I can handle a bit of conversation. I wanted to talk with them anyways— it's a rare opportunity, right? Go rest, I’ll be with you soon.”

His parents watch with an interested gaze— normally, Liu Qingge would put up much more of a fight when faced with opposition. They know how stubborn he is. But Shen Qingqiu looks at him with those eyes, vaguely pleading and his pretty mouth slightly downturned… It’s unfair how easily his heart melts when faced with it.

“Fine,” he huffs out. He bids the three of them goodbye, but turns to his parents to address them: “Return him quickly. He needs to rest.”

With that, Liu Qingge leaves. The silencing talismans embedded in the door activate as soon as he shuts the door behind him. He’s not worried for Shen Qingqiu, even if there’s a feeling tugging at his heart and urging him to return to Shen Qingqiu’s side. The walk back to his room is short, and it takes even less time to change into casual robes. Normally, he would go greet the rest of the family or go out into the nearby forest in pursuit of a new fight. But Shen Qingqiu is with him for this visit and it would be rude to make him stay here alone so he’ll simply wait.

He settles on the loveseat in a meditative pose, and closes his eyes.

Tomorrow, he’ll guide Shen Qingqiu around the estate and take him to the places he would like the most. The library with thousands of books, his mother’s gardens filled with blooming flowers. If Shen Qingqiu is amenable, then maybe they can visit the forest together and hunt down a beast together… How strange. Even though they’ll be here for a week, it feels like there’s simply not enough time to do what he wants with Shen Qingqiu.

Eventually, he falls so deep into his meditation that his thoughts finally seem to drift away, dissolving into the vast nothingness.

Liu Qingge stirs nearly two shichen later. But when he opens his eyes, he’s decidedly not where he was last time. Instead, he is laying on the bed, and Shen Qingqiu sleeps on top of him, clinging onto him like he always does. He didn’t even realize that he had fallen asleep— which is embarrassing, as the Bai Zhan Peak Lord. To fall asleep during meditation happens to many disciples, and for a Peak Lord to make that mistake is appalling. He quickly snaps out of his confusion, because Shen Qingqiu blinks awake, a small smile growing on his face.

“Hey,” Shen Qingqiu simply greets. The afternoon sun lazily shines on his face. It’s revoltingly similar to how cats wake up from a midday nap— from the way he blinks up slowly to the way that his limbs stretch before coming back to rest the way they were. It’s adorable, and Liu Qingge wants to have it forever. “Did you sleep well?”

A finger comes up to twist at his hair, idly combing through loose locks. Liu Qingge wishes he could see the movement more clearly, rather than just seeing the brief flashes of pale skin and feeling it more than seeing. Instead, he returns the gesture with something a little more intimate— his arms come up in an embrace. They begin to travel, stopping to comb at long and lustrous locks before going down his spine, and hesitating before settling in the small of Shen Qingqiu’s back. One of them keeps moving, tracing along invisible paths and trails.

“Mn. I did sleep well,” he confirms. They both fall into a pleasant quiet, and Shen Qingqiu relaxes more. It feels like he’s about to fall back asleep, and Liu Qingge is close to following despite having just woken up— the weight of Shen Qingqiu’s body on top of him is comforting, and the lazy shine of the winter sun through the window warms them both. He closes his eyes indulgently, and allows a smile to slip on his face. 

“Young Master! You—” The servant, who opens his door with absolutely no warning, chokes upon seeing him. Liu Qingge’s face heats, dark red. He knows what it must look like, with Shen Qingqiu laying on top of him and his hands placed so shamelessly— one wandering up and down his upper body, and the other resting at the base of Shen Qingqiu’s spine, dangerously low. His hands reflexively clamp down, pressing Shen Qingqiu down and into his body. The man’s face is surprisingly thin for how shamelessly he acts with Liu Qingge. But like this, he can at least protect his shixiong from having to see the scandalized face of the servant. As Shen Qingqiu has said before: out of sight, out of mind.

Shen Qingqiu lets out a noise, high and reedy. It sounds, it sounds like… he can’t even say it! Liu Qingge flushes even darker, if that’s even possible.

“Get out!” Liu Qingge growls, and the servant at least has the decency to stutter out an apology before slamming the door shut and fleeing. Shen Qingqiu rolls off of him immediately, before curling into a ball away from Liu Qingge. He silently buries his face in his hands. Liu Qingge can’t help but worry— he alarmedly asks, “A-Yuan? Are you alright?”

Shen Qingqiu doesn’t say anything, and Liu Qingge hurriedly sits up to check on him. His dark hair covers his face, and Liu Qingge moves it away, tucking some of the loose strands behind his suspiciously red ear. His hand freezes in place, because even with his hands covering up his face, Shen Qingqiu’s face is cherry red.

“A-Yuan?” He hesitantly places his hand on Shen Qingqiu’s shoulder, but Shen Qingqiu won’t even look at him. He even tenses under Liu Qingge’s touch, a foreign sensation. Shen Qingqiu has always relaxed under the pressure of his touch, so for him to suddenly tense up and go mute at his touch is dumbfounding. Liu Qingge falters.

At Qing Jing, it wasn’t an issue that his disciples walked in because Shen Qingqiu was their shizun— he could always clear up the fact that they weren’t in a relationship. But here, Shen Qingqiu knows nobody but him. To be walked in on by a total stranger… His heart sinks, lower and lower until it feels like it’s simply fallen out of his body, lost somewhere he can’t reach.

Liu Qingge knows the man well enough to see that he wants to be left alone. He shifts away, drawing his hand back and getting off the bed. Hesitantly, he draws the blanket up and over Shen Qingqiu’s curled up form. He mumbles, “I’ll leave for a bit, okay? I’ll see you later.”

And with that, he quietly and efficiently retreats. 

It’s a very bad idea. There’s no way that it could end well.

But while they’re here… Maybe he should simply pretend that all of this is normal around his family. He doesn’t have to lie to them, but he can just pretend that as his partner, Shen Qingqiu is just very affectionate. Shen Qingqiu’s face is extremely thin— and it would deeply embarrass the man if any of his relatives called him out on his indecent behavior. Shen Qingqiu is simply affectionate, and doesn’t hesitate to show it physically. It’s not fair to Shen Qingqiu if Liu Qingge begins to shut him out with no explanation, and Liu Qingge can’t just tell him…

So why not? The more he thinks about it, the more it makes sense. Shen Qingqiu won’t have to change his ways at all— he can continue to freely laugh and chatter, and get all of the physical affection that he wants from Liu Qingge. He doesn’t have to put on that stupid ‘Qing Jing Peak Lord’ persona either, he can just be as he is. And it requires nothing on Liu Qingge’s part either— he just has to pretend to be his shixiong’s lover.

Easy. 

It’s easy, because Liu Qingge’s already in love with him, desperately so— so it shouldn't be hard. He just has to… Do things. Of a romantic enough nature that his relatives get the picture, but friendly enough that Shen Qingqiu suspects nothing. And he’ll have to fend off the inevitably nosy questions that they’ll ask, and stop them from cornering Shen Qingqiu at all costs… Well. 

Suddenly, the task at hand seems a lot harder.

Liu Qingge could probably be more lenient with physical affection. Shen Qingqiu likes to be held, so if he just does that a little more, then it’s fine. Just within decorum though, because Shen Qingqiu isn’t really his lover. He might be trying to court Shen Qingqiu right now, but nothing has been set in stone. It’s not his right to touch Shen Qingqiu so shamelessly (there’s a strangely accusatory voice that sounds like Mingyan in his head— haven’t you already been doing that with him though? What’s the difference anyways?).

He ignores it. His plan is obviously fool-proof. 

With the bravery of a war god, Liu Qingge boldly tangles his fingers in Shen Qingqiu’s in front of his parents. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t seem to notice it. He’s too busy listening to his mother talk about something. His mother seems too engrossed in the conversation to mind either. Actually, of the three of them, it’s only his father that notices it. 

And the oddest thing happens— he looks at Liu Qingge, and smiles. Liu Qingge blanks, because his father almost never smiles. Stoic faces are a trademark of the Liu family— and although his father showed more emotion than most of his relatives, it still wasn’t often. Across the table, his father places an arm around his mother’s shoulder.

Ah. Liu Qingge’s face heats. Now that he thinks about it, his father always smiled with his mother. She looks over to his father, and they both sweetly smile at each other before she turns back to Shen Qingqiu and picks her conversation back up. 

“What do you think, Liu-shidi?” Shen Qingqiu abruptly asks for his opinion, and Liu Qingge blinks in confusion. He hasn’t been paying attention at all. Shen Qingqiu takes pity on him and elaborates, “Your mother was telling me about a very pretty lake close to here. Supposedly, the water is crystal clear, with lotus flowers and lilypads large enough to step on. We should go out together, spend the day there. We can stop by the town first and get some food before we go.”

“Sure.” Shen Qingqiu’s eyes sparkle in unrestrained delight at his response. Of course Liu Qingge was going to say yes— Shen Qingqiu has basically planned out their outing anyways. Shen Qingqiu squeezes his hand and affectionately leans in. Liu Qingge decides to lean in too, and as an extra measure, he drapes one arm over Shen Qingqiu’s shoulders.

There. It doesn’t escape him that he and Shen Qingqiu are essentially mirroring the way his parents sit. 

“Thank you, Minghui. Should we go tomorrow?”

His mother’s head turns at the address, and Liu Qingge nearly winces at the way that her brow raises when she suddenly sees how close they’ve started to sit together. Shen Qingqiu’s the only one to call him Minghui, and the way that they sit so closely is rather shameless. It must be his lucky day though, because she seems content to just ignore it all, albeit not without a final glance.

“Sure,” Liu Qingge gamely agrees. “Anything else?”

“Not yet. I’m a bit hungry though; let’s get dinner.” Shen Qingqiu idly mulls, and Liu Qingge dislodges himself from Shen Qingqiu’s grasp. He offers him a hand, and Shen Qingqiu takes it without a second thought. “Thank you Minghui. Master Liu, Madam Liu. We will be taking our leave now.”

Liu Qingge makes to leave, but Shen Qingqiu stops him. He looks over quizzically. Shen Qingqiu quickly goes red, and he coughs lightly before speaking.

“Wait. We should pay our respects first.” Together, they face his parents. Shen Qingqiu bows as deeply as he can, and Liu Qingge quickly follows suit. Time passes slowly, and eventually Shen Qingqiu straightens back up. Together, they rise from their bow. Liu Qingge looks up and freezes at the expression on his parents’ faces.

His parents smile at them. There’s a foreign expression on their faces, one that makes his stomach flip in his body, that he can’t name— and is Liu Qingge seeing things, or is that the wet shine of tears in their eyes? Shen Qingqiu presses against his side, holding onto his arm with a sticky grip.

“Thank you, Peak Lord Shen— no, Shen Yuan.” His mother addresses Shen Qingqiu familiarly, fondly. “Take care of our son.”

“And you,” she turns to Liu Qingge, voice suddenly sharper. “Don’t be stupid. You better treat him well.”

Liu Qingge bristles at that— of course he’ll treat Shen Qingqiu well. It’s true that at one point, he would have rather died than treat Shen Qingqiu with respect, but that was well in the past. Now, he would readily do anything for Shen Qingqiu. As long as Shen Qingqiu’s wonderful smile stays on his face, his lovely laughter continues to ring on Qing Jing Peak, then Liu Qingge will do everything for him.

“Of course I will,” he scoffs. 

It’s Shen Qingqiu, after all.

Chapter Text

True to his mother’s words, the lake’s water is indeed very clear. Gigantic lotus flowers and lily pads float on the surface, tranquil and calm. It’s amazing that they haven’t sunk yet. Despite it being winter, the water is unusually warm. According to Shen Qingqiu, it’s because water can hold large quantities of heat. Liu Qingge doesn’t question it. Shen Qingqiu has always been incredibly intelligent, and probably has hundreds upon thousands of books memorized. It’s just a guess, but from Shen Qingqiu’s impassioned and angry rants about the subpar literature he consumes, it wouldn’t be surprising.

Hm. Maybe he should introduce him to Ming-mei. He’d just have to make sure that she doesn’t try to recommend those novels.

Shen Qingqiu lays his head in his lap, his newest book in hand. Lazily, he flips through the pages. His cloak has been delegated to performing the role of a blanket, draped over the lower half of Shen Qingqiu’s body. Liu Qingge brushes a hand through his hair, indulgent. He smiles briefly before carefully dusting golden pollen off of Shen Qingqiu’s cheek. Shen Qingqiu momentarily forgets his displeasure with the novel— Liu Qingge knows the wrinkle of his brow, the downwards slide of his mouth’s corners— and looks up at him, smile now evident in his peach blossom eyes. He puts his novel down and brings Liu Qingge’s other hand up to his chest, pressing it there and letting the dead weight sit there. He closes his eyes, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. 

Of course, Shen Qingqiu had absolutely insisted on sitting in the middle of one of the lotus flowers, visibly trying his hardest to keep his enthusiasm down. Liu Qingge had pretended to be unamused and unaffected, but in the end, Shen Qingqiu still got his way. They sped to the middle of the lake on Cheng Luan, dropping in the middle of one of the lotus clusters. He picked one flower at random— pale pink, seemingly fully-bloomed— to step in. When they had stepped off of Cheng Luan and into the center though, the light pink petals gently arched around them and slowly closed. Liu Qingge had tensed, ready to fight their way out, but Shen Qingqiu simply laughed at him for his apparent rashness. In the end, they weren’t actually trapped; they could leave any time they wanted to. The petals offer no resistance to being parted, and simply split when Liu Qingge pushes against them with a little force.

The winter sun takes a muted pink hue from the petals, and the warmth from their bodies doesn’t oppressively build up in the flower. Instead, it feels like it holds just enough heat for them to be warm. The smell of the lotus isn’t overly strong either, but it’s certainly present. It’s incredibly peaceful here– domestic, even. 

Years ago, Liu Qingge would have called this dull and boring, a waste of time. After all, what was more important than the path of the sword, the never-ending push to surpass the boundaries and become an immovable force with a strength to shake the heavens? And yet, his priorities have changed. The desire to become the best in the world still burns within him, but there’s something more that he wants. There are moments in his life where he doesn’t burn with the need to train. There are shichen upon shichen, even whole days spent with Shen Qingqiu in the garden and over tea where he slacks from his intense training that he doesn’t regret.

“Minghui should lay down with me,” Shen Qingqiu suddenly announces. Liu Qingge allows himself to be manhandled, pulled down and positioned into the exact position that Shen Qingqiu wants in him. Spoiled, he thinks fondly as Shen Qingqiu latches on to him. He’s almost catlike in this regard— fussy, demanding for attention. Still, Liu Qingqiu complies with Shen Qingqiu (not like he could even deny the other in the first place). “Aren’t you tired? Let’s sleep for a bit.”

Liu Qingge almost snorts at that. Sleep? In the middle of the day? Shen Qingqiu might actually be a cat, because no person actually takes mid-day naps. And yet, Shen Qingqiu’s in his arms, tracing lines along the planes of his chest, acting as if Liu Qingge’s the tired one… It’s such an obvious attempt at manipulation. 

The worst part is that it’s actually working on him.

It’s disgusting just how soft he is for this man. Liu Qingge doesn’t dignify Shen Qingqiu with a response. Instead, he simply pulls the cloak back up and over their bodies and closes his eyes. Shen Qingqiu also quiets down, settling down contentedly. Shen Qingqiu curls into his side, his arms pulling Liu Qingge close. Their legs tangle together, and Shen Qingqiu presses himself even closer. His face comes in and hides in the hollow of Liu Qingge’s throat, his soft breath warm over the delicate skin there. 

This closeness, initiated by Shen Qingqiu, is one borne of routine. It’s one that Liu Qingge marvels at— despite the violence and hurt wrought by his scarred and calloused hands, Shen Qingqiu willingly entrusts himself to Liu Qingge. It’s only amplified by the fact that Shen Qingqiu has always been reticent, hiding behind fluttering fans and the indifferent expressions he so often wore. And yet, Shen Qingqiu has given Liu Qingge the greatest gift of all. To have Shen Qingqiu so close to him, for him to drop those masks to bare the glowing warmth of his heart and entrust Liu Qingge to hold it close and protect it.

“Sleep well Minghui.” Shen Qingqiu quietly whispers. His breathing slows into a steady, relaxing rhythm and Liu Qingge simply follows. It’s safe, with no dangers near them that Shen Qingqiu could possibly need to be protected from. Here in the lake, it’s only him and Shen Qingqiu, the few wildlife that peacefully inhabit the lake. And if Liu Qingge is truly honest, it’s hard to resist his shixiong in anything he does— including sleep. He drifts off along Shen Qingqiu in no time at all, surrendering to the temptation of rest.

“Wake up! My love, won’t you wake up?” A strange and completely unfamiliar voice rings out, coupled with the sensation of hands shaking him awake (not Shen Qingqiu’s hands, he would never shake Liu Qingge to force him to wake. No, Shen Qingqiu likes to stroke his hair and gently whisper sweet words to try and coax him to awareness).

Liu Qingge startles awake and jumps up, holding Shen Qingqiu close in his arms and brandishing Cheng Luan instinctively. He backs up and tries to cover his back using his surroundings. The water underneath the lotus ripples from the sudden motion, rocking them unsteadily. As sleepy as he is, his brain knows how dangerous it is right now. The close quarters will severely limit Liu Qingge’s actual abilities, and with Shen Qingqiu with him, he must be extra aware. Shen Qingqiu jolts awake too, and he quickly looks for the source of the commotion before relaxing in Liu Qingge’s tight hold.

The voice that had called him, it turns out, comes from a rather young-looking woman now cowering in the corner of the flower they were just sleeping in. Tears run down the side of her face, and she sniffles pathetically. Her robes look way too light for it being dead winter— and extremely ill-fitting by the way that it looks like it’s about to slip off her body with a single movement. They look seriously expensive too. For a moment, Liu Qingge wonders if the clothes are actually hers, or if she’s stolen them from an unsuspecting woman. He eyes the light pink silk with suspicion. Shen Qingqiu sighs, before signaling for him to put Cheng Luan down.

“Are you alright?” Shen Qingqiu carefully approaches the woman and offers her a hand to help her get up. The woman pauses for one second before quite literally launching herself at Shen Qingqiu, her arms coming up and wrapping around him. Shen Qingqiu freezes at her touch as she sobs into his neck. Liu Qingge crosses over to them in a flash, ready to tear her off of him when she starts wailing something truly horrifying.

“No! He’s my husband!” She clings on even tighter, refusing to let go. Liu Qingge pauses too. Husband? He knows that Shen Qingqiu isn’t married, and he’s never seen this woman in his life. But then again, Shen Qingqiu is a very private man, and maybe this is something that he wouldn’t have wanted to share with Liu Qingge. If that’s the case, then Liu Qingge’s court has been in vain— and perhaps that’s why Yue Qingyuan was so soundly rejected. But wouldn’t Yue Qingyuan have known that Shen Qingqiu was married in the first place?

Before Liu Qingge can start to spiral even further into his thoughts, Shen Qingqiu awkwardly says, “... Excuse me, but I believe you’re mistaken. I don’t know who you are.”

Liu Qingge feels a guilty sense of relief pool in his stomach. His shixiong isn’t taken after all, hasn’t made his three bows and sworn to stand by someone else. So Shen Qingqiu doesn’t know who this woman is— but that doesn’t answer the largest question he has.

“No! I found you here, you must be my husband! You can’t leave me!” The woman protests as she tries to plaster herself onto Shen Qingqiu once again. Liu Qingge’s jaw nearly drops in shock— is this normal? Surely it’s not normal to just declare an intent to marry to a stranger, and to take such liberties in less than a quarter of a shichen? No, it can’t be normal to just… proclaim yourself married to a beautiful stranger (Shen Qingqiu is beautiful, Liu Qingge already knows that and recognizes it with ease). But then again, this woman doesn’t exactly seem like she’s normal. 

She flutters her eyes in an attempt to draw pity. It’s… disturbing. It makes her look even younger than what she already appears to be. “Would you truly deny a peerless beauty like me?”

“Er…” Shen Qingqiu looks over to Liu Qingge, his eyes wide in a familiar plea— help me. He struggles to carefully pry the woman off— clearly not wanting to hurt her, but also very much uncomfortable. Shen Qingqiu, for being the sect’s political representative, is painfully awkward with people— too used to being polite. It’s obvious that he doesn’t know how to handle it— and he’s looking at Liu Qingge for help. Unfortunately, Liu Qingge doesn’t know what to do either, and he quickly makes a choice.

“He’s mine,” Liu Qingge stupidly blurts out. The woman lets go of Shen Qingqiu in shock, and Liu Qingge tugs him close and wraps an arm around Shen Qingqiu’s waist awkwardly. It curls around and slots into the familiar curve. Liu Qingge steels himself, and then repeats it again. “He’s my… my cultivation partner.”

He nearly winces at his declaration. Shameless! Shameless! Liu Qingge’s never made such a declaration before. Shen Qingqiu is most decidedly not his cultivation partner, and even if Liu Qingge is trying to court him, that doesn’t mean that he has the right to call him that. It rubs raw at his heart. Still, this is for Shen Qingqiu’s benefit— so maybe it’s not too wrong? Shen Qingqiu asked him to help, and this is the best that he could do. It’s not the first time he’s told this lie either— although before, Shen Qingqiu was wholly unaware and kept in the dark about it. Thankfully, Shen Qingqiu immediately catches onto his plan.

“Yes, I’m afraid you’ll have to find someone else,” Shen Qingqiu smoothly lies. He leans into Liu Qingge’s side some more and tangles their hands together, further cementing the strength of their… relationship. His head inclines towards Liu Qingge. “Qingge and I love each other very much. We’re happy together– neither of us want to get another partner. Right, darling?”

“Yes,” Liu Qingge numbly replies. His brain feels like it’s spinning from Shen Qingqiu’s words. Qingge and I love each other, happy together– darling. That word keeps replaying over and over in his mind. “Of course, my love.”

Liu Qingge’s tongue is clumsy around the address, leaden. It’s a miracle that he could even get it out. Shen Qingqiu turns back to the woman, and Liu Qingge drinks in Shen Qingqiu’s side profile. For a second, it looks like Shen Qingqiu’s eyes flash with something that could be called possessiveness— and then it’s gone, replaced by an apathetic gaze.

The woman’s bottom lip quivers, and her eyes well up with tears. Is it fair to be calling her a woman? She may look mature, but she acts like a young girl more than anything else— Liu Qingge internally revises his first impression of this girl.  

“But the prophecy can’t be wrong! You’re lying,” the girl accuses.

Prophecy? Liu Qingge’s nose wrinkles, but Shen Qingqiu looks faintly exasperated.

“Ah. I should have realized,” Shen Qingqiu apologizes. What the hell is he talking about? Does he actually know who this girl is? Shen Qingqiu continues with a bow, “This one apologizes for both himself and his partner. You must be one of the lotus goddesses— Li Lianha.”

Liu Qingge is immediately distracted by the fire that runs in his veins because of that next address— his partner, Shen Qingqiu’s partner. Shen Qingqiu tugs at his sleeve and forces him to bow too. Liu Qingge tenses as the rest of Shen Qingqiu’s statement finally registers; what kind of terrible luck do they have to randomly run into some minor goddess? And what kind of goddess could be so very shameless? It’s appalling that a goddess of all people would propose to the first man that she lays her eyes on. Eventually they rise from the ‘respectful’ bow, although the girl still looks upset. She crosses her arms and pouts.

“You know who I am— isn’t that enough proof that you’re the man from the prophecy?” She points out crossly. “Besides, the prophecy also said that I would find my peerlessly handsome husband asleep in my lotus, and that—”

“This master is aware of the prophecy! There is no need to retell it,” Shen Qingqiu coughs out, a blush rising high on his cheeks. He snaps open his fan, and waves it in front of his face frantically. “It’s not this one! This master was simply resting here with his partner— neither of us are your destined one!”

The ruckus inside the lotus is loud, apparently, because another woman steps in, this one dressed in purple. Do all goddesses always wear such… revealing garments? Liu Qingge whips his eyes away from her figure immediately, instead settling on Shen Qingqiu. 

Shen Qingqiu doesn’t need to wear such suggestive clothing to be attractive. In truth, he dresses extremely modestly (an amusing contrast to his shameless behavior). The man always dresses in robes with long sleeves and high collars, even in stifling summer heat. Cloth vambraces to cover his arms and hands, a truly impressive amount of layers at all given times… Shen Qingqiu usually covers every inch of skin, head to toe. Sometimes, it’s surprising that Shen Qingqiu doesn’t wear a veil— but he has his fans for that, right? Despite that, Shen Qingqiu still manages to be devastatingly beautiful, more attention-catching compared to the two women in scraps of fabric that Liu Qingge hesitates to even call clothing.

Even if the Qing Jing Peak Lord was dressed in ill-fitting clothing meant for commoners, it wouldn’t be able to take away from his beauty. His mind unhelpfully conjures up Shen Qingqiu in his work clothes, the rough dark blue cloth slipping up, exposing the uncovered skin of his arms, pale expanses of tempting and unblemished jade…

When Liu Qingge finally wakes from his Shen Qingqiu-induced daydream, he’s suddenly listening to an argument between the two women.

“How stupid are you? You know that it’s not time for the prophecy,” the woman in purple scolds harshly. “You are a child. Stop trying to marry random men, especially ones that already have partners.”

The younger one— Liu Qingge was right, not a woman but a girl— sniffles obnoxiously before unexpectedly bursting out into tears. Liu Qingge nearly cringes at the high-pitched sound, but Shen Qingqiu looks faintly alarmed.

“Now now, I’m sure there’s no need for those tears,” Shen Qingqiu tries to placate Li Lianha with his ‘Shizun voice,’ far too kind to a literal stranger who just tried to marry him. He passes her a handkerchief from one of his sleeves, and patiently waits as she wipes her eyes hard. “Your sister is right. What would happen if a bad man came here? You’d be very unhappy, right?”

“...Yes.” The girl pouts some more. “But you’re pretty! And nice! I don’t want to wait— why can’t I just marry you?”

Shen Qingqiu blinks confusedly at that, and then the words register. Liu Qingge can see that he’s trying to hold in a smile by the tremble of his lips, and he just barely succeeds. He snaps his fan open and the smile finally bursts through behind the fan, bright and blinding. He stands up straight, before flashing Liu Qingge that same smile behind the fan and squeezing his hand comfortingly.

“Thank you. But this master is very happy with his partner. My Qingge is good to me,” Shen Qingqiu lies through his teeth, although it sounds far too convincing. For a moment, Liu Qingge is almost fooled too. “I could not ask for anything more.”

“Shen Qingqiu!” Liu Qingge scowls, although it’s more out of embarrassment than anything else. “Don't say such things!”

Li Lianha harrumphs— ungrateful brat— before glaring at Liu Qingge, of all people. It’s laughable that she thinks that she can get a rise out of him. Liu Qingge is a mature and responsible adult, but when he considers the fact that she just tried to spirit away his shixiong based on his looks and some stupid prophecy alone…

While Shen Qingqiu is distracted talking to the woman in purple, Liu Qingge quickly sticks out his tongue at the younger girl, before possessively wrapping an arm around Shen Qingqiu’s waist. 

And then, the worst thing that could possibly happen occurs. Liu Qingge leans in, about to whisper to Shen Qingqiu to just leave, but Shen Qingqiu chooses that exact moment to lean in. Liu Qingge’s lips brush against the soft skin of Shen Qingqiu’s cheek. Liu Qingge’s muscles immediately lock in place, his eyes widen. When he comes back to himself, he immediately jerks back.

Shen Qingqiu pauses his speech before looking over at Liu Qingge quizzically— and Liu Qingge instantly feels shame wash over him.

He shouldn’t have done that— Shen Qingqiu is not his partner. The privilege of sharing a kiss is not his to have, and yet Liu Qingge still did so. The whisper that hung at the tip of his tongue retreats, and leaves the metallic tang of guilt and shame. Two distinct sides of his mind yell at him— one side screams that it was not his place to press a kiss there, he is no better than a wretch. The other one argues back that it was an accident, that he has committed no wrong. Guiltily, he loosens his hold on Shen Qingqiu and begins to shift away. Shen Qingqiu stops him, and leans into his side. For a second, he briefly flashes a sweet smile (one that Liu Qingge doesn’t deserve), his eyes perplexingly fond before turning back to the seemingly more reasonable goddess and continuing his conversation. 

“Very well then,” the woman in purple claps her hands together, and Liu Qingge’s attention snaps to her. “This Ai Lianha and her sister Li Lianha recognize the wishes of Master Shen and Master Liu and will stand in place of the heavens.”

Li Lianha and Ai Lianha stand together in front of them and they finally begin to feel like actual goddesses, their combined power finally present in the air. Ai Lianha looks at them seriously, her gaze sharp. Li Lianha still looks unsatisfied, but it’s quickly masked with an indifference that feels more suitable for a goddess.

Liu Qingge drops his arm from around Shen Qingqiu’s waist, and Shen Qingqiu catches his hand before briefly squeezing it and letting go. 

“You may bow,” Ai Lianha declares. Liu Qingge doesn’t exactly know what he’s bowing for, but together with Shen Qingqiu, he bows deeply in front of the two goddesses. After three long beats, they rise in unison. 

“Congratulations. May your lives be filled with happiness,” Ai Lianha says kindly. Shen Qingqiu inclines his head in a sign of acknowledgement. Liu Qingge also nods (even though he doesn’t know what exactly the congratulations are for, a blessing from the heavens is a precious thing to be acknowledged and appreciated). Li Lianha, apparently discontent to let her sister have the last word, chimes in— “Yes, congratulations! But if Master Shen ever feels discontent—”

Li Lianha lets out a sharp cry of pain as Ai Lianha smacks the back of her head with a circular hand fan. An extremely satisfying whack sounds out from the contact. Liu Qingge nearly lets out a snort, but Shen Qingqiu doesn’t seem nearly as amused. His lips twist downwards with a full frown, his eyes cold and hard. It’s the first time he’s seen such an expression on Shen Qingqiu’s normally serene face.

“You!” Ai Lianha growls out, twisting Li Lianha by the ear and forcing her to her knees with the pain. Liu Qingge watches in mild interest— it’s a simple, but apparently effective way of bringing a weaker opponent to their knees. Hm. Though it’s a rather dirty trick, it seems to be an exploitation of an easily-overlooked weak spot. He mentally makes a note of it, before turning his attention back to the pair. Unperturbed by her sister’s pained cries, Ai Lianha sharply scolds, “How many times must I discipline you?”

She glances apologetically at Shen Qingqiu and Liu Qingge.

“This Ai Lianha will make sure to properly punish this impudent and shameful brat of a sister. Please excuse us,” Ai Lianha apologizes. 

In a singular moment, the pair of lotus goddesses disappear into thin air, presumably back to the heavenly realms. Liu Qingge’s lips slightly twitch up at the thought of Li Lianha actually having to face the consequences of her actions. Shen Qingqiu, however, still looks mad. Even though the two have left, Shen Qingqiu hasn’t looked away from the spot where they once stood.

“Shen Yuan?” Liu Qingge calls, concerned. Shen Qingqiu looks back at him then, and although the frown hasn’t left his lips yet, his eyes begin to soften back into the gentleness that Liu Qingge has come to know and love about him. Liu Qingge doesn’t try to resist this time— he simply gives in to the thoughts loudly roaring in his head and pulls him in close for a comforting embrace.

Shen Qingqiu rarely gets angry. In the time past his major qi deviation, Liu Qingge’s only ever seen him so angry a couple of times. The man has an incredible well of patience. Even when his head disciple accidentally broke his favorite tea set, Shen Qingqiu hadn’t cared— instead, he had focused on comforting the boy and drying his tears rather than letting his temper flare. Even the severe ‘arguments’ that Shen Qingqiu has with Shang Qinghua are nothing of consequence. They would seem to be at arms for days at a time, and then back to hosting their weekly tea and ‘literature’ sessions like nothing happened. 

Shen Qingqiu buries his head into Liu Qingge’s shoulder a little more, seeking comfort. It snaps Liu Qingge back to his original thought— Shen Qingqiu doesn’t get angry. Not like this. And another traitorous thought crawls into his ear and whispers that Liu Qingge shouldn’t be allowed to hold him close like this anymore. The thought is sour.

“Minghui.” Shen Qingqiu mumbles into his shoulder. “I’m tired. Can we go home now?”

“Yeah. Let’s go home,” Liu Qingge agrees, heart skipping haphazardly in his chest. They’ll still have to say goodbye to his parents, pack their things, and grab some food for Shen Qingqiu for the journey back to Cang Qiong. For now though, Liu Qingge holds Shen Qingqiu tight. His appalling actions might have doomed the tentative court that he so desperately tried to establish. He holds Shen Qingqiu just a little more, just a little closer. It might be the last time he ever gets this pleasure.

Cheng Luan is steady under their feet, but Liu Qingge’s thoughts couldn’t be any less stable.

Chapter Text

While out on a sudden mission, Liu Qingge comes to a conclusion: he needs to apologize. 

Now that he reflects on it, his actions at the lotus lake were nowhere near acceptable. He touched Shen Qingqiu in a way that is inappropriate for martial siblings to selfishly and smugly taunt an immature girl of a goddess. Not only did he touch Shen Qingqiu inappropriately, he even had the gall to press a kiss against tender and pale skin; even if it was accidentally, he still committed a crime. And even though Shen Qingqiu doesn’t know it, Liu Qingge had also taken advantage of his cluelessness to pretend to be his lover, even with his ‘noble’ intentions. He’s taken liberties that, by all means, should be enough to make Shen Qingqiu seriously reconsider the easy companionship they currently have. And even though Shen Qingqiu should bar him from Qing Jing Peak and make sure that he never darkens his doorstep again, Liu Qingge still hopes that someday, Shen Qingqiu will forgive him of his transgressions.

He returns back to Cang Qiong Mountain within two weeks. While he doesn’t enjoy Mu Qingfang’s fetch quests, he can’t ignore the fact that even with him clearing and cleansing Shen Qingqiu’s meridians as often as he does, Shen Qingqiu still needs medicine. It just so happens that the most effective and powerful medicinal ingredients are often guarded by rather tough monsters— and with Shen Qingqiu’s reliance on Mu Qingfang’s medicine, it was a job only suitable for Liu Qingge.

He drops by Qian Cao first— Mu Qingfang nods in satisfaction at the ingredients, before waving him away as he begins the first concoction— before he strides out. Normally, he would fly straight to Qing Jing from here. But for the first time in a very long time, he hesitates. He’s still completely covered in dirt and dried monster blood. It would be impolite to Shen Qingqiu to quite literally dirty his doorstep, especially when he needs to apologize. With that in mind, he sets his sights on Bai Zhan Peak.

He quickly washes off (no cleaning talismans left, unfortunately) and carefully dresses in a set of  his nicer robes after double-checking them for any holes, rips, or tears. He leaves Bai Zhan quietly, and heads straight to Qing Jing.

Before he can even knock on the door, Liu Qingge’s interrupted by an unfortunately familiar disciple. It’s not his head disciple, Ming Fan, or the forever-crying girl, Ning Yingying. No, he couldn’t have such good luck. 

It’s the curly-haired one. Luo Binghe. The very same one that had initially walked in on him and Shen Qingqiu. 

“Liu-shishu!” Luo Binghe addresses him with a barely-there bow. Impudent brat— Liu Qingge ignores him, brushing him aside. He’s about to knock on the door when Luo Binghe cries out, “Shizun says not to bother him!”

Liu Qingge’s fist halts just before it can make contact with the wood of Shen Qingqiu’s door.

Shen Qingqiu doesn’t want to see him? It’s not like they’re attached at the hip— they both have duties as peak lords. Shen Qingqiu is a busy man, and so is he. But Shen Qingqiu always lets him in. No, it’s reasonable that Shen Qingqiu doesn’t want to see him. After all, Liu Qingge just came back from a quest. Shen Qingqiu often works on his newest studies and projects while he’s away. Perhaps he’s at a point where he needs to fully concentrate. Yes, that makes sense. He’ll just go to the garden, and wait for Shen Qingqiu there. There’s still some work that he needs to do, and Shen Qingqiu will appreciate some of the harder labor being done.

He steps away from the door. He doesn’t need to see Shen Qingqiu immediately, and he won’t interrupt Shen Qingqiu’s work to apologize. As urgent as it is, it can wait. Shen Qingqiu will always take priority.

“Fine. Tell your shizun that I’m waiting in the garden,” Liu Qingge directs Luo Binghe. A rather sour look crosses Luo Binghe’s face, and then it smooths out into a complacent mask. Liu Qingge very graciously ignores it; as long as he does what he’s supposed to, then Liu Qingge could care less about the kid. He doesn’t wait for a ‘respectful’ bow— he simply jets off.

He heads to the study within the greenhouse to change out of his nice robes and into his work ones. He makes quick work of it before heading out to the garden. Liu Qingge allows himself to greet the children first (and really, the koi do feel like their children at this point)— they excitedly splash in their pond as they hear him approach, and they butt up against his hand eagerly. After that, it’s work as usual. Replanting and repotting, moving supplies, and continuing the construction of the large central pavilion. He throws himself in the work, and tries to distract himself from Shen Qingqiu’s arrival. 

Shichen after shichen passes, and the sky soon darkens. Liu Qingge’s made significant progress— he estimates that in just a few weeks, once spring finally comes, the pavilion will be finished. Liu Qingge sits with the children as they try to distract him and calm his nerves as he waits for Shen Qingqiu’s arrival. But it gets too dark to wait any longer; the night chill begins to bite, and Liu Qingge rushes to the greenhouse to change and then back, in case Shen Qingqiu comes by. 

Shen Qingqiu never comes.

Liu Qingge’s stubborn, but he knows when to admit defeat. With one last look at the garden, Liu Qingge begins his walk. The forest is quiet tonight without Shen Qingqiu’s chatter. He pauses halfway through the walk. Instinctively, his feet had walked down the well-worn path to Shen Qingqiu’s house, but… Shen Qingqiu didn’t come by the garden. Normally they would head to the bamboo home together, but Liu Qingge hasn’t been invited today. Shen Qingqiu always opens the door for them, before heading in to prepare tea and dinner. 

Liu Qingge has already trespassed enough— there’s no reason to add to his transgressions by showing up at Shen Qingqiu’s home uninvited. He stops from continuing on the path to Shen Qingqiu and heads to his peak house on Bai Zhan instead. He quietly prepares for bed by himself. There’s no need for tea, no need for dinner. He pulls a comb through his hair roughly (Shen Qingqiu would never be so rough with his hair, he would gently detangle and unknot the snarls in Liu Qingge’s hair, but the man isn't here), and lays stiffly on the cold bed. He stares up at the ceiling impassively. It feels wrong. His chambers are impersonal and bare. There’s a single pillow on his bed, his mattress only fitted with bare sheets. He twists and turns on the bed, uncomfortable. It’s not right. He closes his eyes and tries to will himself to sleep.

It doesn’t work. Everything is wrong. Frustrated, he sits up on the bed. He doesn’t even need to sleep. Instead, he closes his eyes and circulates his qi, breathing steadily. He’ll just meditate.

He refuses to acknowledge exactly why he can’t sleep.

It happens the next day, and then the day after. And then it keeps stretching out and out, until nearly a week has passed with no sign of Shen Qingqiu. At this point, he hasn’t seen Shen Qingqiu since the day they came back from the lotus lake— three weeks ago at this point. Liu Qingge heads over to Qing Jing in the late morning. Shen Qingqiu likes to sleep in, and if Liu Qingge is correct, he should be awake and ready to receive any visitors. He still needs to apologize for his actions, and he needs to do it in person. He can’t just keep turning back like this. 

And just like that first day, he’s stopped by Luo Binghe.

“Shizun is still busy. Liu-shishu should return to Bai Zhan,” Luo Binghe insists. It’s too suspicious. Liu Qingge’s not an idiot— he knows that Luo Binghe doesn’t like him. The dirty looks that Luo Binghe sends him, his insolence and rude behavior. And Liu Qingge would be even more of an idiot to have not seen the way that the boy looks at Shen Qingqiu.

It’s more than just hero-worship— there’s that glint in his eyes, the way that his eyes trail after Shen Qingqiu’s figure. The desperate bids for attention. That boy wants Shen Qingqiu in a way completely inappropriate for a disciple to even think about their master. It makes Liu Qingge bristle— but somehow, Shen Qingqiu hasn’t seen it, doesn’t even know about it.

“Binghe? Ah, of course I love him,” Shen Qingqiu had said fondly. But the way he said it was pure, like the way he would talk about a beloved child, not like a lover. Liu Qingge watched as Shen Qingqiu waved to the disciples outside his window. “But I love all of my disciples. They’re all so very sweet!”

It would make sense for Luo Binghe to try and stop him from visiting Shen Qingqiu. In fact, he’s the one that’s been stopping Liu Qingge this whole time. Liu Qingge’s eyes narrow in suspicion. Would this child truly intervene in Shen Qingqiu’s personal affairs? It’s a line that no disciple should ever think of crossing, but this boy… Liu Qingge nearly knocks the boy aside in an attempt to knock on the door, but he’s stopped by Shen Qingqiu’s head disciple, Ming Fan. The boy looks rather green (Shen Qingqiu would have medicine for that, Liu Qingge’s sure) but he also stands in Liu Qingge’s way. 

“This disciple is sorry, but Liu-shishu has to return to his peak. Shizun is still busy,” the boy bravely speaks. The tremble in his voice is still evident. Liu Qingge frowns in displeasure. Even though he doesn’t trust Luo Binghe, Ming Fan is trustworthy. It’s the only reason why Liu Qingge hasn’t just knocked on Shen Qingqiu’s door yet. Every day that he’s tried to come and resolve this issue, Ming Fan had been there to support Luo Binghe in this matter. The Qing Jing head disciple wouldn’t try to deceive Liu Qingge, so it must be true that Shen Qingqiu can’t receive visitors.

There’s a more probable answer that’s taking seed in his heart, and he firmly ignores it. Shen Qingqiu… No, he wouldn’t.

Ignoring Luo Binghe, he addresses Ming Fan as he’s done this past week: “You. Tell your shizun that we need to talk once he’s done.”

There’s no reason to linger. He doesn’t bother to wait for a response from either of the disciples, and jets straight for the garden. Just like he has for the past week, he’ll work in the garden and wait for Shen Qingqiu to come find him. The fish children will keep him company— they’ll need names, someday. He can’t just keep calling them the children, after all. He finishes the work early, and sits at the pond, idly playing with the kids. He tries to amuse himself by giving them names that he thinks Shen Qingqiu would agree with or laugh at.

He waits, shichen after shichen. Daylight slips away, and night comes in a merciless moment. Just like the past week, Shen Qingqiu never comes. It’s not unintentional at this point, he realizes with a sinking heart. Shen Qingqiu has had more than enough warning, could have come at any time, hell, he could have even sent a disciple or even just a letter. This is Shen Qingqiu’s way of clearly communicating with him.

Liu Qingge is not welcome on Qing Jing anymore. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t want to see him anymore.

Liu Qingge’s hand falters. The children butt up against his hands, gently nipping at him to resume the pets. He draws his hand out of the pond, and stands quietly. 

He takes one look around the garden. This was their garden. The reminders of him are scattered about. The structures still stand tall. But it’s painful to see it now. He had thought it to be a reminder that Shen Qingqiu still wanted him to stay in his life, a physical and real example that Liu Qingge had a place on Qing Jing. Undeniable, steadfast. But now, it’s mocking— indestructible structures that tower over him and only serve to taunt him with what he’s lost. The structures will stay, the buildings will be finished. The life and love planted in the garden will continue to flourish and grow. But because of his own selfishness, the roots of Liu Qingge will wither away until only the bare skeletons of him remain in the garden.

The Lavender’s Love Wisteria and the Justice Star Jasmine that Shen Qingqiu planted for him are sweet in the air. It makes him feel sick. It’s odd how that sweet scent, which twisted his gut in pleasure, now pulls on his stomach in punishment. Still, before he leaves, he plucks a couple blooms off the vines and stores them in his qiankun pouch. There’s some preservation talismans that he can use left in Liu Qingge’s house— a gift for my dearest shidi, Shen Qingqiu had explained. He takes some of the Honeyed Sugar Violets too, and ignores the painful memory, a then-unappreciated gift of Shen Qingqiu’s bright smile.

The walk to the greenhouse study is slow, long and painful. A spare set of Shen Qingqiu’s nice robes are still hung up next to his, and Liu Qingge simply looks. It’ll be the last time that he gets to see blue hung up against green. He quietly treasures it, savors it. He changes out of his work robes, and for the first time in a long time, he takes them with him. 

He flies off on Cheng Luan, and tries not to look back, tries not to remember.

He fails.

He stops going to Qing Jing Peak and for the first time in months, Liu Qingge begins to stay on Bai Zhan. His disciples start to murmur quietly when they think he’s not looking— and for that, Liu Qingge sends them to run laps. If they’ve got enough energy to gossip about him, then they have enough energy to continue training.

After a straight week of training and pushing himself in a desperate bid to forget, Liu Qingge feels waves and waves of exhaustion pour over him. It’s bone-achingly deep, and it rubs at his weakest spots. He scoffs at himself— the Bai Zhan War God, tired? He can’t be. He has to continue pushing himself, to become the strongest and best that there could ever be.

And then, the packages appear.

Wrapped inconspicuously and mysteriously left at his doorstep, the only sign of who it could be from is a forest green ribbon neatly tied around it. Liu Qingge’s stupid heart beats erratically in his chest when he sees it. Maybe Shen Qingqiu is trying to slowly reestablish their boundaries with carefully-chosen gifts and maybe even letters attached? Liu Qingge eagerly opens the package and feels his heart drop instead. There’s no letter, nor is it a gift from Shen Qingqiu. Of course, that was far too foolish of a thought. Far too optimistic. The brown wrapping paper in his hand tears from how hard his hand shakes.

Blue robes— his robes are folded neatly, and they sit innocently in the box. Liu Qingge brings it up and inhales the scent of Shen Qingqiu somehow embedded into the fabric. Florals and fresh ink, and the sharp scent of the hair oil that Shen Qingqiu prefers. Liu Qingge closes the box. Of course, it makes sense that Shen Qingqiu would send them back. Shen Qingqiu must have been so hurt by him that he couldn’t bear to see Liu Qingge’s robes anymore. A far too tangible and real reminder of Shen Qingqiu’s trust betrayed so easily. The blue of his Bai Zhan robes sting Liu Qingge’s eyes. 

The box gets put away, shoved deep into a corner of his house to collect dust. But the ribbon stays with him— it’s only a ribbon, some cheap thing that Shen Qingqiu used to wrap the package with. Still, Liu Qingge ties it onto Cheng Luan, the dark green stark against Cheng Luan’s scabbard.

The packages continue to come, always tied with the green ribbon. Each one hurts more and more, and Liu Qingge simply lets them pile up on his doorstep. He watches tiredly as the stack grows higher and higher with each passing day, and then slips out his back door. 

In the absence of his trips to Qing Jing, Liu Qingge has developed a new routine. 

Ignore the packages on his doorstep. Go out and run laps until his legs feel numb. Stand under the waterfalls of Bai Zhan. Try to forget. Go back to his peak house, polish Cheng Luan, and meditate until the next dawn.

Repeat.

The days continue to pass in the same manner, and Liu Qingge loses any track of time.

The day for Shen Qingqiu’s meridian cleansing comes and goes. 

Liu Qingge never shows up.

Or has it come already? Liu Qingge… can’t remember. Everything’s fuzzy. His heart hurts for some reason, and he closes his eyes. It’s been several days, no weeks, since the week spent waiting alone in the garden, right? And oh, that’s why his heart hurts. 

The wine he had stashed away reeks, but he drinks it anyways. And then he drinks some more. Just for good measure, he drinks and drinks and drinks, until there’s only a few drops of wine left, and then he drinks that too. It burns as it goes down, and Liu Qingge coughs. He slumps against his table in a drunken stupor.

The days are beginning to warm in preparation for spring, but Liu Qingge’s spent so many days lingering under the ice-cold waterfalls of Bai Zhan trying to wash away Shen Qingqiu’s everything that it doesn't feel that way. He stood under the waterfalls motionless from dawn to dusk today, desperately trying to wash away the memories of Shen Qingqiu’s tender gazes, the feel of his body against his. He wasn’t successful— every time he tried to forget, the memories kept persisting, ingrained into every groove of his ribs. After that failure, Liu Qingge had thrown open his kitchen cabinet and drank the wine hidden away like a parched and desperate animal. Maybe if he drinks enough, he can forget about the burning warmth that Shen Qingqiu emanates.

It’s a sentiment that he’s repeated several times up to this point, but Liu Qingge wishes he could have said something, anything to Shen Qingqiu about how, despite his constant protests, he enjoyed his shamelessness. He had only ever complained to Shen Qingqiu’s face about the impropriety of his actions, but not once was he ever honest about how he truly felt (and it’s that same dishonesty that cost Liu Qingge that easy and simple trust that Shen Qingqiu had in him).

There’s a fan in his belt— Shen Qingqiu dropped it somewhere, he can’t remember where anymore. Clumsily, he flicks it open. There’s a pair of fierce tigers painted on it, and Liu Qingge feels his heart lurch. He doesn’t trust his drunken hands to be careful enough, so he brings it up to his face and tries to focus on the fine details despite his swimming vision. It’s one of the ones that he had gifted Shen Qingqiu, but Shen Qingqiu won’t want it back anymore. There’s no reason for Shen Qingqiu to even want to look at him anymore. Shen Qingqiu’s already decided that he doesn’t want to see him anymore. He holds it in front of his face and waves it clumsily in an imitation of the Qing Jing Peak Lord that must look pathetic. In the end, he closes it as carefully as he can, before trying (and miserably failing) to tuck it back into his fan holder.

Pathetically, he holds his breath and waits, straining his hearing. Maybe Shen Qingqiu will knock at his door, and Liu Qingge can give him his fan back, or maybe he’ll bring some fruit from their his garden. Maybe Shen Qingqiu will be disgusted by the sad and sorry state the Bai Zhan Peak Lord has willingly drunk himself into. But what he wants most is for Shen Qingqiu to forgive him— for ever thinking he could be worthy, for ever thinking he could disrespect Shen Qingqiu the way he did.

Of course, the knock never comes.

Liu Qingge gets up and stumbles into his study, knocking things over as he heads for his desk. He sloppily grinds some ink, and his brush splatters the dark liquid over the wood, over important missives and his once unstained robes. It doesn’t matter. 

Liu Qingge writes a letter, meant for his shixiong and only him.

I miss you. I’m sorry, forgive me. I didn’t mean to. Come back.

The letter begins to get longer, but does it matter? No, it doesn’t. What matters is that Shen Qingqiu knows that he’s sorry, that he wants to see him again and that he misses everything about the man. He can’t even look at the damn teapot in his kitchen anymore. The flowers that he stole from Shen Qingqiu’s garden had been pressed between the pages of a poetry book that the man had left for him one day, only to be shoved in the depths of his drawers for how much it hurt to think of it. 

Liu Qingge can barely read what he’s writing. His strokes begin to get worse and worse, until it’s barely legible. Is it even legible? To a sober man, it must look chaotic and sloppy, the strokes lost to an unsteady hand with far too much emotion.

Pathetic. 

He addresses it to Shen Qingqiu and uses one of Shen Qingqiu’s message talismans to send it off. The letter folds itself into an origami crane, and Liu Qingge watches it as it flies off in the night. For once, maybe Liu Qingge has done something good. The floor is cold and empty, but he passes out on it anyways.

It’s not like his bed would have been any different.

Chapter Text

“Sh, my love. Darling. It’s alright, it’s alright. Here.”

There’s a warm and comforting pressure on his forehead, but it doesn’t help the sharp pain through his eyelids. There’s a rustle of fabric, and then the sharp pain goes away as the light goes away and fades into darkness. Something taps at his lips, and they part obediently as he’s fed something. It tastes vile, and Liu Qingge groans in disgust before he’s fed a sweet piece of candy. The pain gradually begins to fade, and Liu Qingge relaxes.

“Feeling better?” The voice asks, and immediately, Liu Qingge tenses again. It’s far too familiar. His eyes fly open, and he immediately looks, his heart flutters in his chest—

Shen Qingqiu.

Liu Qingge is struck speechless. Shen Qingqiu is here, in his house, at Bai Zhan. Despite Shen Qingqiu never wanting to see him again, he’s still here, tenderly taking care of Liu Qingge. No, it can’t be; he must still be dreaming. That’s right— Shen Qingqiu wouldn’t bother to visit him anymore, so it must be a dream. And the sweet address of those words would never be directed to him— it’s a dream, and nothing more. But if it’s a dream, then Liu Qingge will take this chance.

“Shixiong,” he croaks out, voice hoarse. It hurts to speak, the words clawing and ripping at his throat, but it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t take his eyes off of Shen Qingqiu’s face; his sun-haloed figure hurts to look at, but Liu Qingge continues to look and look anyways. He wants to remember as much of this dream as possible until he has to wake up. “Shen-shixiong— I’m sorry. Forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” Shen Qingqiu soothes. The cadence is familiar, relaxing. Liu Qingge’s heart warms at those words. It’s a dream, but he can’t deny that he’s wanted to hear those words, endlessly wishing for that undeserved forgiveness. This Shen Qingqiu feels real, like he’s actually there instead of being a part of Liu Qingge’s delirious guilty mind. “It was just meridian cleansing.”

It’s not just meridian cleansing, but the thought spirals in Liu Qingge’s mind. Not only did he act inappropriately, but he ignored Shen Qingqiu’s health and simply drank like a fool. Shen Qingqiu depended on him, and yet Liu Qingge ran away from it like a coward.

“I’ve hurt you again, ” Liu Qingge mumbles wretchedly, guilt intensifying the pain. He rambles, “I’m sorry. I’ve hurt you again, it’s my fault, I didn’t mean to.”

Shen Qingqiu’s face wrinkles. Hazily, Liu Qingge makes a noise of complaint— Shen Qingqiu’s face shouldn't do that. He should only be happy. Shen Qingqiu should only wear the beautiful curve of sunny smiles, the smile lines that his cultivation couldn’t quite erase. He doesn’t want to see that kind of face on Shen Qingqiu. It looks wrong on his shixiong. Shen Qingqiu’s face smooths out into a familiar expression, and Liu Qingge lets out a content noise. Much better.

“Minghui could never hurt me. What are you talking about?”

“I hurt you,” Liu Qingge’s words begin to slur. The dream is starting to slip away, and he hasn't apologized yet. He’s still exhausted but he forces the words out. “I waited all week and you never came. I’m sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable that day, I shouldn't have done that, and then you needed me and I never came.”

Shen Qingqiu’s face cycles through a series of emotions, unguarded and free. Liu Qingge hazily watches through the fog wrapping around his mind, and Shen Qingqiu cradles a hand against his cheek. Liu Qingge leans into it, and exhales shakily. He wants Shen Qingqiu to lay down with him— shameless, shameless but he misses Shen Qingqiu’s warmth next to him, misses the way that he holds and refuses to let go. He misses how Shen Qingqiu makes him feel important, not because he’s the peak lord of Bai Zhan, or because the blood of the famous Liu cultivator family runs through his veins. Shen Qingqiu makes him feel important because he’s Qingge, because he’s Minghui.

Nothing else.

“Oh Minghui, you…” Shen Qingqiu’s voice sounds tight. How odd— the way that Shen Qingqiu speaks makes it sound like Liu Qingge is innocent, like Shen Qingqiu is the one who’s somehow wronged him. It’s wholly untrue, but the confusion fades away into cotton, melting away as if it were never there as Shen Qingqiu brings the comforting weight of his hand to rest where Liu Qingge’s heart resides. “I was never mad, I’m sorry. My love— I could never be mad at you for that.”

And Liu Qingge’s mind takes pity on him— his dream is kind, for once. Shen Qingqiu carefully lays down next to him, their legs tangle together. Liu Qingge turns his face in and takes in deep lungfuls of Shen Qingqiu, his exhales shuddering and shaking. The calming scent of bamboo and jasmine clings to skin, and Liu Qingge relaxes as the scent envelops him and swaddles him in a blanket of comfort. Shen Qingqiu’s breaths are steady, but Liu Qingge doesn't focus on it. Liu Qingge knows that the more that he tries to make it real, the more it fades away, a ghost of what he once had. He desperately wishes that this could be real, but he knows to take his victories where he can.

He holds Shen Qingqiu a little bit closer.

“Don’t leave me,” Liu Qingge whispers. “I missed you— I love you.” With that pathetic plea, that confession that will never be made to the real Shen Qingqiu, he lets himself drift off. Shen Qingqiu’s illusion whispers back to him, “I will come back.”

Liu Qingge holds onto those flimsy words, and for the first time in a week, the silvery butterflies of hope outstretch their wings.

When he wakes next, the sky is dark. 

When he wakes next, he is alone.

He should have known. It was a dream, and nothing more. Shen Qingqiu felt real, but his bed is cold. The Qing Jing Peak Lord is not here— and was most likely never here. He still feels shaken. He knew it wasn't real. It was never real, but Shen Qingqiu had seemed so real, the promise— I will come back— seemed so real that he had thought… He had thought… No, it doesn't matter. It was the makings of his own pathetic wishes. The only odd thing is that despite drinking a whole jug of wine, there’s no hangover that sears through his brain. Liu Qingge falls back on the bed with a sharp, jagged exhale and closes his eyes. 

Maybe if he’s lucky enough, Shen Qingqiu will appear in his dream once more.

The next time he wakes, Liu Qingge gets up and begins to clean his house. But despite his drunken spree, his house is suspiciously clean. The jug of wine has already been thrown away, the sour scent of it absent. Perhaps a disciple had cleaned it up for him— it would certainly make sense. No one has come to bother him yet, despite him being in his house for a while. Plus, the packages that were out on his doorstep are gone now, but not in any of the rooms. He can’t remember anything past drinking the last of the wine. But just in case, he checks all of the other rooms in his house. The wooden desk in his study is suspiciously stained with ink, and some of the papers on his desk seem to be soaked too. He racks his memories for anything, and comes up blank. He probably stumbled in and knocked over the ink in a drunken stupor. 

Knock. Knock.

A series of raps sounds out throughout his home. Liu Qingge nearly groans. He’s in no state to be receiving visitors— he hasn’t even looked in a mirror, but he knows that his clothes are still rumpled (there’s some mysterious ink stains that he can’t remember getting on the front of his robes) and that his eyes have dark purple bruises underneath. 

Annoyed, he swings open the door with a nasty glare on his face. And then, the glare drops off of his face, replaced with something far too vulnerable that he doesn’t want to admit to. Shen Qingqiu, elegant and put-together as always, gives him a half-smile. Liu Qingge suddenly feels embarrassed about his state of dress, and he clears his throat roughly.

“Shen-shixiong,” he greets stiffly. His words feel thick in his throat. His heart’s already stupidly racing in his chest. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

And why should he? He had waited for a week for Shen Qingqiu to talk to him, to say anything. Hell, the man could have even sent a letter instead of simply ignoring him the way he did. Liu Qingge has done wrong, he knows. He did deserve Shen Qingqiu to just ignore him… So then why did Shen Qingqiu show up at his doorstep? No matter how hard Liu Qingge thinks about it, he just can’t figure it out.

After a week of ignoring him, why would Shen Qingqiu suddenly come to see him?

Shen Qingqiu’s smile falters— just for a split second, and then it comes back. Despite his lips turning upwards, it looks fake. A flimsy guise, crafted to be appealing with no sincerity behind it. It’s the same one that he uses on Yue Qingyuan, the same one that he uses in political meetings. The one that Liu Qingge hasn’t been subject to for a very long time.

“Don’t do that,” Liu Qingge says tiredly. Just looking at it makes him feel emotionally exhausted, and the day’s barely begun. Shen Qingqiu falters at his words and Liu Qingge heaves out a sigh and explains: “That, that smile. You don’t have to smile if you don’t want to.”

“Very well then,” Shen Qingqiu replies seriously. Liu Qingge’s tempted to shut the door on Shen Qingqiu, but before he can Shen Qingqiu fidgets and gets to the point: “Is shidi busy today? I believe we have much to discuss.”

“No,” Liu Qingge replies. He keeps his shoulders up and proud, even if he wants to slump. He doesn’t have a hangover, but he seriously considers faking one so he doesn’t have to deal with it yet. “Wait here for a bit.”

He gently shuts the door in Shen Qingqiu’s face and grabs some random robes out of his closet. There’s no reason to dress nicely. Besides, Shen Qingqiu is still waiting for him. Perhap he can truly apologize for his actions this time. If he’s truly lucky, maybe Shen Qingqiu will forgive him this time— and though it won’t be the same between them, Shen Qingqiu might be able to stand the sight of him once more. Maybe after a week apart, the fire of Shen Qingqiu’s anger has cooled, at least enough for him to reach out to Liu Qingge.

(The voice in Liu Qingge’s mind whispers— you know shidi, it is said that distance makes the heart grow fonder. Liu Qingge swallows thickly, and tamps down the rapidly swelling surge of emotion in his chest.)

He changes quickly and tears a brush through the knots in his hair. For the first time in days, he leaves Bai Zhan. They don’t fly today— Liu Qingge doesn’t offer it this time. Sharing a sword requires them to stand close together. Shen Qingqiu is probably still mad at him, and Liu Qingge doesn’t want to push his limits.

The walk to Qing Jing is tense, a discomforting quiet between them. Shen Qingqiu starts to walk just a little bit closer, and then closer. Liu Qingge refuses to let it affect him— Shen Qingqiu hasn’t forgiven him yet. It’s just that he’s falling into habit this time. As much as he wants to reach out and tangle their hands together, Shen Qingqiu has already made it clear that he’s not allowed to anymore.

Shen Qingqiu’s hand brushes against his, and Liu Qingge nearly flinches at the simple contact.

Wrong.

He takes several purposeful steps and distances himself. It’s a defensive measure— for his racketing heart that feels closer to glass, for the fragile pretense of calm that hangs over them darkly. He doesn’t dare to look at his silent companion. Eventually, they reach Qing Jing, and despite it all, Liu Qingge feels himself begin to relax out of habit.

“Shizun! Liu-shishu!” One of Shen Qingqiu’s disciples— the pigtailed girl, Ning Yingying— excitedly greets them. There’s a shine in her eyes. “Welcome back!”

Shen Qingqiu smiles at her fondly, and pets her head gently. He takes his hand away after a moment, and in his soft, but firm ‘Shizun voice,’ he directs her: “Ning Yingying. Go find Ming Fan and Luo Binghe. Bring them to the bamboo house as soon as possible.”

“Yes Shizun!” She bows once more in respect. She turns to Liu Qingge next, her eyes vaguely pitying for some reason. And surprisingly, she bows to Liu Qingge deeply: “This disciple apologizes to Liu-shishu!”

She runs off (presumably to carry out Shen Qingqiu’s orders) before Liu Qingge can even ask about it. What apologies? As far as he remembers, that girl has been nothing if not courteous to him. Stubborn, sure, but at least she didn’t openly show her distaste for him unlike some of her martial siblings.

Shen Qingqiu leads them up to the bamboo house. Liu Qingge hesitates, before he steps inside. It’s as perfect as always, dusted and well-kept. Liu Qingge sits awkwardly at his usual seat. Shen Qingqiu leaves for a moment, and then comes back with tea. Ever the gracious host, even with the odd atmosphere between them. Liu Qingge keeps quiet, and Shen Qingqiu prepares tea for them. 

Jasmine tea, today.

He’s stressed. Liu Qingge frowns. Shen Qingqiu only serves jasmine when he’s stressed, and even though Liu Qingge shouldn’t ask, he can’t resist (the worry eats away at him— is it him that’s causing that stress?).

“Shen Qingqiu,” he starts. Shen Qingqiu’s eyes whip up to meet him— there’s a faint glimmer in his eyes— and then he’s interrupted by a series of careful knocks. Shen Qingqiu looks away, before barking out: “Enter!”

Liu Qingge’s mouth shuts. It didn’t matter. It’s not his place to ask.

Ning Yingying enters, followed by Luo Binghe and Ming Fan. The head disciple seems to pale significantly upon seeing him sit at the table, and Luo Binghe continues to look like the ‘perfectly fluffy’ disciple that Shen Qingqiu had often described him as (although his gaze turns dark when he spots Liu Qingge).

“Thank you, Ning Yingying. You may leave,” Shen Qingqiu kindly directs. The girl looks between them, before bowing respectfully and leaving quickly. Smart kid.

There’s a moment of silence that stretches, long and oppressive. Liu Qingge wants to ask what exactly is happening— after all, he was under the impression that this would be a private talk where Shen Qingqiu would lay out his grievances and Liu Qingge would try to negotiate them to the best of his ability. But instead, Shen Qingqiu has called his two of his most prominent disciples— perhaps to act as intermediaries or as witnesses to the process. Shen Qingqiu has always been thorough like that. Liu Qingge slightly straightens in his seat, ready for the painful interrogation.

But what actually happens is this:

Shen Qingqiu snaps his fan open, a loud and violent crack emphasized by a powerful burst of qi. Liu Qingge turns his head in alarm, and is struck by the powerful emotions brewing in Shen Qingqiu’s eyes. His face is deadly still, cool like the calm before the storm. His eyes, however, are dark with a heaviness uncharacteristic of the kind and gentle Qing Jing Peak Lord. But that turbulent look is not directed at him— it’s directed at his two disciples.

“Ming Fan. Luo Binghe.” Shen Qingqiu’s voice is ice-cold, sharp and deadly. It reminds him of Shen Qingqiu before his qi deviation. The two boys in front of them briefly glance at each other before snapping their heads back to meet Shen Qingqiu’s eyes. “Are you disciples of Qing Jing?”

“Answering Shizun— we are proud to be of Qing Jing,” Luo Binghe states, his chest puffing slightly in bravado. Shen Qingqiu’s eyes narrow at his statement.

“This master finds it hard to believe that is the truth considering the disrespect you have shown. Or is it that these unfilial disciples believe themselves to be above their shizun?”

“No! No, we don’t. These lowly ones could never presume to be above Shizun,” Ming Fan cries out. Luo Binghe eagerly nods at his statement.

“Hmm.” It’s a single note of a sound, but it makes the two boys flinch. “And yet, you both decided to intervene in my personal affairs. You stopped your Liu-shishu from coming to visit me, but you also did not pass on his messages to me. Not only that, but you also went through our personal belongings and decided to send them to your shishu without informing me. Do you deny doing so?”

“What?” Liu Qingge’s eyebrows raise slightly in shock. He looks at the hard line of Shen Qingqiu’s mouth, the heavy set of his brow and the flint of his eyes. Shen Qingqiu wouldn’t dare make such heavy accusations, especially to his most beloved disciples. And then, the puzzle pieces begin to fall into place, making such a clear picture that Liu Qingge is ashamed that he couldn’t see it earlier.

The clear jealousy. The suspicious excuses. The nervousness in turning him away. Not letting Shen Qingqiu know that Liu Qingge was waiting for him. Did Shen Qingqiu even know that he was back? No, because he tried to visit Shen Qingqiu as soon as he came back— only to be turned away. And the packages on his doorstep never came with any sort of message.

Liu Qingge feels his own mouth draw into a hard line, his jaw set in anger. The teacup in his hand shatters into pieces, hot tea splatters his skin. He could care less. He’s been played for a fool by two disciples with dishonest intentions. He scrutinizes the two boys in front of him. The combined power of the oppressive aura emanating from him and Shen Qingqiu makes Ming Fan’s knees buckle. It’s highly unsatisfying (but impressive) that Luo Binghe continues to stand tall.

“No. This disciple acknowledges his actions,” Luo Binghe speaks stubbornly. He begins defensively: “But Liu-shishu wouldn’t leave shizun alone—”

“Hush,” Shen Qingqiu suddenly snaps. “Have you no shame? Not only have you disrespected this master by interfering in his personal matters, but you also shame the sect by choosing to act in the place of a peak lord! Do you believe that this master is incapable of taking care of himself? Let me be clear— I am capable of choosing for myself. Peak Lord Liu is always welcome on Qing Jing… Not only that, but your Liu-shishu is the one that clears my meridians— did Binghe ever consider that my health depends on him?”

“Shizun!” Luo Binghe cries out, tears suddenly shining in his eyes. Predictably, the boy ignores most of Shen Qingqiu’s words, and focuses on his last statement.  “Were you hurt? This one can get Mu-shishu!”

Ming Fan shifts where he stands, clearly uncomfortable. Good, Liu Qingge thinks darkly. Those boys— if Shen Qingqiu wasn’t so protective over his kids, he’d like to make them both do Bai Zhan’s most intensive punishment regiment. 

“Enough.” Shen Qingqiu raps the both of them with his fan— not hard enough to cause any sort of pain, but enough to make them seriously think. “Apologize.”

Ming Fan immediately turns and apologizes to the both of them: “This disciple apologizes to Shizun and Liu-shishu for interfering with their business and acting out of line. This disciple was wrong!”

Ming Fan actually sounds apologetic; for a split second, Liu Qingge wonders if the boy was pressured into it by his co-conspirator. He dismisses any sort of pity for the boy— no head disciple should be so easily manipulated, even if it was by a trusted friend and companion. Liu Qingge makes a small mental note about that before placing a more important marker on Luo Binghe. If that kid was willing and able to manipulate Shen Qingqiu’s head disciple against him, even go through Shen Qingqiu’s personal belongings, then there might be an even bigger problem in store.

Luo Binghe apologizes too: “Apologies to Shizun for interfering,” and under Shen Qingqiu’s sharp gaze, he sulkily mutters— “Apologies to Liu-shishu for interfering.”

Insolent brat. Liu Qingge nearly scoffs at the ‘apology,’ and Shen Qingqiu seems displeased too. Shen Qingqiu comments with a frown, “You have both disgraced Qing Jing Peak. This master is extremely disappointed that two of his most promising disciples have acted so poorly.”

The two boys’ faces fall exponentially. Luo Binghe actually does look like he’s on the verge of tears this time.

Shen Qingqiu snaps open his fan, before remarking: “Ming Fan. Two hundred laps around the mountain. Report to An Ding for two weeks after that. This master expects you to be prepared to talk about your actions once you come back. Dismissed.”

Ming Fan’s mouth drops open in shock— but he meekly nods, smart enough to not protest, and bows before heading out to complete his punishment. Liu Qingge raises a brow. Despite his kids being cultivators, Shen Qingqiu never administers serious punishments. Two hundred laps wouldn’t even count as a warm up on Bai Zhan— but for the spoiled and prissy Qing Jing disciples, it might as well be death. Shen Qingqiu’s only ever made them run one hundred laps at most (and run is a rather strong descriptor, when the pace was more of a leisurely stroll). And the sting of having to work at An Ding Peak is well-regarded as one of the worst punishments to give out. In truth, such serious actions against Shen Qingqiu would be reason enough to kick the boy out of his peak, but Shen Qingqiu has always been too soft for his own good.

“Luo Binghe.” The boy perks up at his name, and then immediately wilts as Shen Qingqiu deals out his punishment. “Two hundred fifty laps around the mountain. Report to An Ding for four weeks afterwards. Reflect on your actions, and this master will call upon you to discuss them once you’ve finished your punishment.”

“Shizun!” Luo Binghe’s eyes shine with tears, but Shen Qingqiu seems unmoved by the theatrics. He looks away from Luo Binghe, denying the boy the chance to see his face: “Three hundred laps. Binghe is lucky that this master is being so lenient. Dismissed.”

Luo Binghe looks like he wants to scowl, but he wisely says nothing and instead stalks out of the bamboo house. Liu Qingge watches smugly as the boy shuts the door. Even with Shen Qingqiu’s obvious love and affection for him, that brat still got punished by a torturous amount (by Qing Jing’s standards, at least). His eyes don’t leave the door.

Something touches his hand.

Liu Qingge jerks back reflexively and nearly knocks over one of Shen Qingqiu’s abandoned teacups. His eyes snap back to Shen Qingqiu. Shen Qingqiu’s face flashes with a sharp regret, and his hand begins to withdraw. Liu Qingge panics— Shen Qingqiu’s shouldn’t look like that, he needs to fix it— and he impulsively grabs Shen Qingqiu’s hand and stops him from withdrawing.

“Don’t,” Liu Qingge abruptly speaks. “Shen Qingqiu, I…”

Liu Qingge pauses. There’s so much that he wants to say, and none of them are appropriate. 

Shen Qingqiu, I love you. I want to stay beside you, I want you to choose me.

The last time he’d been here in the bamboo home with Shen Qingqiu, the snow was still powdery soft on the ground, a thick carpet. Now, nearly a month later, the peak is beginning to come alive with the colorful blooms of different wildflowers, young shoots of bamboo sprouting tall. Liu Qingge’s mouth goes dry— he’s no poet. He can’t use flowery words and craft metaphors out of thin air like Shen Qingqiu can, so he settles for what he can safely express. The words are simple, but they feel right.

“I missed you.”

Shen Qingqiu’s face softens— an infinitesimally small movement of delicate lines shifting, but entirely too much for Liu Qingge. His heart begins to kick in his chest, demanding and insistent. 

“So did I. Liu-shidi, I…” Shen Qingqiu hesitates before shooting up from his seat. He quickly crosses over to Liu Qingge. “May I?”

Liu Qingge gives a short noise of affirmation despite the fact that he doesn’t know what he’s agreeing to. Not that Shen Qingqiu knows that— speaking of which, Shen Qingqiu takes it as a cue to sit on Liu Qingge in a very familiar position. His arms circle around Liu Qingge’s shoulders, and he leans in close. Liu Qingge lets it happen, lets his arms come up to the familiar divot of his hips and lets his head drop and breathes in the comfort that is Shen Qingqiu. 

“I’m sorry Minghui— I should have known.” 

“No,” Liu Qingge utters. The words are thick and heavy, clumsy syllables on his leaden tongue. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Shen Qingqiu knows that he has to work at places far from the mountain, and his trips can take weeks, even months to complete. Liu Qingge tries not to take too many requests that take him too far away, but he knows that he can’t always stay close. If the man’s disciples never told him of his return, then it would be understandable to assume that Liu Qingge hadn’t come back yet.

They don’t part for the whole night— Liu Qingge lays beside Shen Qingqiu, and even as Shen Qingqiu drifts off into sleep, Liu Qingge stays awake. The moonlight bathes Shen Qingqiu in silvery light, his eyelashes cast shadows on his face. Petal pink lips turn downwards, but when Liu Qingge carefully lays a comforting hand on his hip, the corners turn up slightly. His breaths are long and slow, soothing. 

Liu Qingge watches over Shen Qingqiu late into the night, and whispers the words that he’s too cowardly to say in the harsh light of day. Over and over, murmuring them quietly. This incident has only proven to Liu Qingge that he wants. He wants to offer all that he is to Shen Qingqiu and for Shen Qingqiu to take his whole being and gently cradle it within his heart. And more than anything else, he wants to do the same for Shen Qingqiu— to be able to protect and guard the curve of his smile and the sparkle of his eyes.

He wants to ensure that he can have this bliss for the rest of his life. His court was never rejected, and perhaps Shen Qingqiu still doesn’t know. He’ll have to prove himself to Shen Qingqiu, to ease him in and show his devotion to the man. But that’s a task for tomorrow, Liu Qingge thinks. The battle to win Shen Qingqiu’s hand can be fought tomorrow, and he can bask in the peace of Shen Qingqiu’s resting form beside him tonight.

For the first time in nearly a month, Liu Qingge willingly slips into rest, and sleep comes easy.

Chapter Text

Liu Qingge has always disliked Shang Qinghua for many reasons. The An Ding Peak Lord is far too weak, pitiful, and cowardly to even be considered a peak lord. The previous An Ding Peak Lord was sure and steady in himself, which Liu Qingge could at least respect. Shang Qinghua, on the other hand, has always seemed far too nervous, unsure and questioning every step that he takes. 

But it’s also Shang Qinghua who is (inexplicably) Shen Qingqiu’s closest friend, and for that reason, Liu Qingge’s moved Shang Qinghua from the crowd of people that don’t deserve his attention to a very small crowd that he can loosely call acquaintances. Shen Qingqiu often teases him on this point with a smile on his lips— has my Qingge finally made some friends for once?

(Liu Qingge could be the friendliest person in the sect if it means that Shen Qingqiu will continue to call him my Qingge).

And because Shang Qinghua is his only acquaintance that knows Shen Qingqiu as well as he does, if not more, Liu Qingge goes to him.

“I want to ask for Shen Qingqiu’s hand.” Shang Qinghua promptly chokes on his tea, which Liu Qingge graciously ignores. The man is still recovering as Liu Qingge continues, “You know him the best. What should I give him?”

Shang Qinghua stares at him, tea dripping down his chin as his mouth hangs open in shock. It’s disgusting, but Liu Qingge persists. He doesn’t want to mess this up, and he needs to make sure that he does this correctly. Shen Qingqiu has seemed responsive to the small overtures that he’s made, and Liu Qingge wants to make it as clear as possible. He can’t ask his parents, because they don’t actually know that they’re not actually in a relationship, and Mingyan is out of the question completely. It’s unfortunate that Shang Qinghua, who shakes and shivers like a leaf at the smallest hint of conflict, is the one other person that he can ask for this, but Liu Qingge is no stranger to swallowing his pride for Shen Qingqiu.

“Really?? Congratulations!” Shang Qinghua chirps happily, having finally shaken off his shock. Fair enough, Liu Qingge supposes— the man knows of their fraught past, riddled with so much mutual hatred that they would rather die than speak civilly to each other. And now, Liu Qingge is here asking him of all people for advice on courting Shen Qingqiu. His simple, but sincere words nearly make the corner of Liu Qingge’s lips twitch up. Shang Qinghua continues, “I know exactly what Shen-shixiong would want!”

Liu Qingge’s eyes immediately narrow. Is that true? He’s inclined to say no, but the An Ding Peak Lord looks extremely confident for once. More confident than he’s ever seen him. Shang Qinghua, unsurprisingly, doesn’t see the doubt in his eyes. He babbles meaninglessly, and Liu Qingge finally begins paying attention halfway through.

“... He’d like anything really, but I think he’d appreciate the sentiment! A ring and flowers are pretty traditional, he’d definitely understand.” Shang Qinghua quickly scribbles something on a piece of paper and waves it impatiently as he waits for it to dry. “Liu-shidi, do you have something pretty?”

Assumedly, this ‘something pretty’ is for the ring that Shen Qingqiu will apparently appreciate. Liu Qingge opens his qiankun pouch and rifles around in it, peering inside to try and see something. A blue thing nearly rolls past his fingers, and he quickly grabs it before fishing it out and inspecting it. 

It looks vaguely familiar— Liu Qingge racks his brain for what it could possibly be, and then it hits him. Nearly a year ago, he had defeated the Weeping Stone Wraith and pocketed the core without a second thought. He had forgotten all about it, but studying it closely, it does look pretty in the light of Shang Qinghua’s office. He holds it out for Shang Qinghua to inspect, and the An Ding Peak Lord nods in satisfaction.

“Oh yeah, Shen-shixiong will definitely like that! Here, Liu-shidi.” Shang Qinghua hands off the paper he had scribbled on, and Liu Qingge tries to decipher the sloppy handwriting. Shang Qinghua continues to blabber, “Here’s the contact information to a jeweler I know, just let them know that I sent you! I’ll send them one of Shen-shixiong’s old rings so they have a size reference…”

“One more thing!” Shang Qinghua exclaims. He digs around in his desk, before triumphantly pulling out another paper and giving it to Liu Qingge. Liu Qingge’s temper sharply flares as he reads further, and he nearly growls: “... You can’t be serious.”

The paper contains a list of several flowers, mostly ones that he doesn’t know. Seraphim Beloved Lilies, Naiad’s Blessing, and Love’s Gentle Breath, among others. Their names are  rather… to the point. Maybe he should get other flowers for Shen Qingqiu, ones that are more subtle in meaning. That’s what Shen Qingqiu prefers, at the very least. Shang Qinghua blurts out in a panic, “He really likes these ones! He told me that he really wanted to have them, but he couldn’t find them!”

Liu Qingge pauses at that, his temper cooling slightly. That… sounds true. If they were hard to get, Shen Qingqiu wouldn’t ask for them, even if he truly did want them. And Shen Qingqiu’s bafflingly thin (yet somehow thick) face would stop him from even mentioning it. But if Shen Qingqiu wants it, then Liu Qingge will do anything to get it, even fighting down dragons.

(Shen Qingqiu still doesn’t know about that incident, and under no circumstances should he ever know that his beloved lunar moss came from a dragon’s cave deep within the spirit forest of Shunan. Of course, Liu Qingge could have gotten them from the trees, but the most powerful lunar moss grew within the cave guarded by the Day’s Ending Dragon. Although it must have been suspicious as Liu Qingge randomly sent gifts made from the materials harvested from the dragon after that incident.)

But first, he should visit the jeweler and begin the process of designing a ring. After that, he can begin the journey to find the flowers on Shang Qinghua’s list. Surprisingly, Shang Qinghua has actually provided useful information.

…Maybe the An Ding Peak Lord isn’t so bad after all.

“Thank you, Shang Qinghua. I will not forget this,” Liu Qingge solemnly nods. He stands, having completed his goal. Shang Qinghua seems far too pleased about the situation, and Liu Qingge leaves without breaking the doorframe or any other fixtures in An Ding for the first time in a while. As he leaves, Shang Qinghua shouts out behind him:

“Congratulations! Tell Cucumber-bro I said hi!” 

Hmph. He was going to Qing Jing anyways. Might as well pass along the message.

“Liu-shidi is leaving so soon? But you just came back.” Shen Qingqiu puts his cup down somewhat abruptly, eyebrows raising slightly. Liu Qingge gives him a distracted hum. Shen Qingqiu’s frown deepens. Shen Qingqiu continues worriedly, “What on earth could be so pressing? Is it Zhangmen-shixiong? He should send someone else for once— shidi should rest for a while.”

Shen Qingqiu brings a hand up to his cheek, and Liu Qingge indulgently leans into it. For a brief moment, he allows himself the pleasure, and then sits tall once again. Despite Shen Qingqiu’s displeasure at him leaving so soon, he knows that it has to be done. He has to leave to secure his place in Shen Qingqiu’s life, to finally ask for Shen Qingqiu’s hand in courtship. 

Liu Qingge is done with words whispered in the dark. He wants to freely tell Shen Qingqiu of his devotion, of the depth of his love in the dazzling light of the sun rather than quietly murmuring them while Shen Qingqiu bathes in the light of the moon, unaware. Shen Qingqiu deserves to be loved in the glory of sunlight, in the waking world where he looks at Liu Qingge with those painfully fond eyes and that dazzling smile so often hidden by silken fans.

“I must,” Liu Qingge utters, conviction strengthening his voice. He closes his eyes, and repeats it again: “I have to.”

It is for Shen Qingqiu, but more selfishly, it is for him. The push and pull is maddening, singular in its all-consuming nature. Liu Qingge wants, and for once, his reserved nature can’t overcome his want. He’s wanted Shen Qingqiu, every aspect of the man for so long that it’s nearly a surprise that he hasn’t acted sooner. And Shen Qingqiu, who nearly bowls him over with the amount of affection in his voice, hasn’t ever pushed him away. 

Liu Qingge is sure of his place in Shen Qingqiu’s life, but he wants to take the love that Shen Qingqiu holds in his heart, to keep those entrancing eyes turned towards him for as long as he lives. He wants to hold his hand in the street, to take him on outings where he can buy cheap and clichéd trinkets for Shen Qingqiu and gift it to him, just because of its stupid romantic meanings. He wants to court Shen Qingqiu, to unashamedly hold him close and press kisses into his skin and know that it is welcomed. He wants to know that his affections, his touch is wanted.

“I will come back soon,” he promises. 

Shen Qingqiu looks at him, truly looks and sees the unshakeable resolve in his eyes. And Shen Qingqiu doesn’t try to persuade him any further, to try and plead him to stay. It’s one of the things that he loves so much about the other man. He knows when to push, and he knows when to let it lie.

“If it’s so important to Liu-shidi, then I won’t interfere.” Shen Qingqiu gives in, and he sweeps a thumb across the beauty mark under his eye. “But I want you to come with me, before you go.”

They stand together, and Shen Qingqiu entangles their hands together before leading them into a secluded room that he’s never been in. The room is nearly bare, a stark contrast to the lived-in and cozy feeling of the bamboo home. Shen Qingqiu squeezes his hand, and they approach the table in the room.

Liu Qingge’s heart sinks. 

The table has a family altar upon it, richly decorated with bright flowers and offerings of fresh fruit. But what’s most striking is the portraits, rendered in dark ink and colored with splashes of watercolor. The kind eyes of an older man and woman look at him, the sharp eyes of a man that looks uncannily like an older Shen Qingqiu glare at him. But what strikes him the hardest is the portrait of a young girl, with sparkly eyes and an innocent smile. She looks about the same age as Ming-mei, and Liu Qingge swallows down the lump in his throat.

There’s only one conclusion that he can make. 

And it’s as if Shen Qingqiu can hear his thoughts— Shen Qingqiu turns to look at him, a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth. It’s an uncomfortable smile to look at, thin and watery. He squeezes his hand, as if Liu Qingge is the one that needs to be comforted in this moment, and speaks: “Liu-shidi, I’d like to introduce you to my family.”

“Mother, father.” Shen Qingqiu addresses his parents first, before turning to the portraits of his siblings. “Gege. Meimei. This is Liu Qingge, the Peak Lord of Bai Zhan. He’s very dear to me.”

Liu Qingge studies the faces of Shen Qingqiu’s family. His parents look kind— and he sees Shen Qingqiu in them. The peach blossom eyes of his mother, the small smile of his father. Shen Qingqiu’s older brother looks just like an older Shen Qingqiu, although the sharp look on his face reminds him more of Shen Qingqiu before his qi deviation. His little sister’s eyes crinkle with joy in the same way that Shen Qingqiu’s does.

“Hello,” Liu Qingge greets somewhat stiffly. These people are important to Shen Qingqiu, and he tries to commit them to memory. “It is an honor to meet you.”

“You know shidi, my brother was just a bit older than me,” Shen Qingqiu says a little wistfully. “And Meimei would have been about Mingyan's age.”

Liu Qingge stops at that. It was already a hard enough truth, but the indirect confirmation hurts more. He’s not stupid. He remembers very well that as disciples, Shen Qingqiu never talked about any kind of family. It was just assumed that he was a spoiled young master, with a family that was far too busy to visit or send letters. But now that he thinks about it, there’s a more likely reason why they never came, never sent anything. 

Shen Qingqiu starts to speak, and Liu Qingge immediately snaps to attention.

“You must have been worried about me. Forgive this unfilial son for not telling you earlier— but I wanted you to know that I’m happy now.” Shen Qingqiu addresses the portraits on the altar, before taking Liu Qingge’s hand. “Liu-shidi makes me very happy. I hope that you can see that.”

“Shen Yuan,” Liu Qingge calls. Shen Qingqiu turns to him, and Liu Qingge doesn’t hesitate to pull him close, to hold him and embrace him. Shen Qingqiu stiffens for a second, but he melts immediately and leans into the touch. Liu Qingge combs his fingers through Shen Qingqiu’s hair gently. Warm tears begin to seep into the fabric of his robes, and Liu Qingge only presses him closer, comforting. 

Shen Qingqiu pulls away slightly— his eyes are still misty with unshed tears, fresh teartracks run down his face. But there’s that look in his eyes, a vulnerable emotion shining through. He sniffles slightly before turning red and stepping away.

“Aiyah, how could I cry on my shidi? Especially on your nice robes,” he fusses. Liu Qingge lets him fuss despite the fact that he doesn’t actually care for his ‘nice robes.’ It’s more for Shen Qingqiu to calm himself, to vent out some of the emotion that he almost never shows to anyone. He stays quiet as Shen Qingqiu continues to pick and smooth at his robes, rubbing at the tear stains he just left. “Ah, shixiong is sorry.”

Shen Qingqiu fidgets some more, before stepping back and facing the altar. 

“Liu-shidi… Would you please pay respects with me?”

His breath catches. 

“Of course.”

Together, they bow to Shen Qingqiu’s family. Liu Qingge bows deeply, and silently hopes that it pleases them to see that their beloved son has someone on his side that wants to protect him and care for him.

“Shen Yuan.” Liu Qingge clears his throat roughly. He forces his eyes to stay on the altar, and Shen Qingqiu makes a questioning noise. “May I talk to them?”

Shen Qingqiu says nothing at first, but the gentle pressure of his hand on Liu Qingge’s shoulder is confirmation enough. Shen Qingqiu leaves the room without saying anything, and Liu Qingge waits until he hears the door close behind him to hesitantly approach the altar and kneel in front of Shen Qingqiu’s family. Like this, they look at him from above, their eyes piercing and Liu Qingge kowtows, pressing his forehead to the planks of wood flooring. He stays in that position, and then straightens back up before he talks to them.

“Master Shen, Madam Shen. Young Master, Young Miss.” He addresses them respectfully, even if they wouldn’t have been called that in life. “This one is the Peak Lord of Bai Zhan, Liu Qingge, given name Liu Minghui.”

Liu Qingge falters, a stone in his throat. But it’s important to ask the family of his beloved, and they must be respected. He continues, “I… Please allow me the honor of having your son. I wish to protect him.”

No. That’s not enough. It’s not what he wants to really say, and he tries to put his struggle into words. He can picture the questioning and wary looks on their faces now, the way Shen Qingqiu’s older brother would glare at him. 

“I can’t speak pretty,” he bluntly admits. He closes his eyes, and tries to concentrate on getting the sentiment correct. “But Shen Yuan makes me want to. I want to do a lot of things for him, with him. We haven’t always gotten along, but I can’t imagine not having him with me. I want to bring him whatever monster he wants, whatever plant or artifact that he could ever ask for. I want to make him smile— I want to make him happy, no matter what… I love him. And I want him to know that he is loved. So please, grant me your blessings so I can court him. I beg of you.”

He lowers his head again, in deference to the family of the man he loves. Though they are ink on paper, it feels like they’re looking at him, silently judging him and pondering whether or not to accept his plea. 

He gets no response. 

After a long moment, he stands once more and bows again. He straightens up and murmurs, “...Thank you.”

With his request made, he finally studies their faces one more time. These are the people that had raised Shen Qingqiu, the ones that loved him and cared for him up until their early passing. As he quietly exits, the eyes of Shen Qingqiu’s family watches him, ink eyes burning his back. But there’s no time to turn back now— Shen Qingqiu is waiting for him, after all. Tea has been made, and precious time with each other is limited now that he has to leave soon.

A bow for their respective families, one for the heavens. 

Liu Qingge tries not to think about the fact that the only bow that remains is the one to each other, and fails miserably.

After exchanging his goodbyes, Liu Qingge sets off for Huanzhi, a moderately-populated city close to the seaside. Shen Qingqiu would like it here— the fresh sea air and bright cheeriness that seems to permeate the area is nice, and the spiritual forest nearby is supposedly rich in interesting (and rare) flora and fauna alike. It would be nice to come here as a vacation, but he discards that notion immediately. Shen Qingqiu is far too busy to simply ignore his work to go off on a trip at Liu Qingge’s whim, especially for a three-day flight.

Apparently, Huanzhi is where Shang Qinghua’s jeweler contact is based and the nearby spiritual forest is the one where he can supposedly find most of the flowers on Shang Qinghua’s list. The first part of that is true— as he approaches the street where the jeweler is located, an apprentice from the shop comes up to him and guides him there. 

“Peak Lord Liu,” the shopkeeper greets him respectfully. Odd— he can tell that she’s a cultivator. Going into business is an unusual choice for a cultivator, but not necessarily frowned upon. “These ones were informed by Peak Lord Shang of the request. Allow us to help.”

The service is impressive, he’ll admit that much. He’s immediately guided to a low table and he sits as they serve various snacks and tea. Everything is of high quality, but as he sips the provided tea, he can’t help but think that the tea that Shen Qingqiu serves is so much better. The woman in front of him waits for him to set down his cup before she begins speaking.

“This one is An Baijie.” The woman dips her head in respect, but straightens up nearly immediately. “This one was told that Peak Lord Liu has the material? If Peak Lord Liu would be so kind as to let this one inspect it…”

Wordlessly, Liu Qingge takes the monster core out and hands it off. An Baijie whips out a small pair of glasses and closely inspects the material, holding it up to the light and carefully checking for any damage. Her eyebrows raise slightly.

“An unusual material to pick. Many monster cores are dull, and hard to make look good in jewelry. However, this one is unusually beautiful, very distinct. Hmm. This wouldn’t happen to be the core of a Weeping Stone Wraith?”

“Yes, it is.” Liu Qingge confirms. Impressive— this woman truly does seem to be an expert in her field. An Baijie’s eyes glint, and she sends a small pulse of qi out to the core. Liu Qingge watches incredulously as the core begins to change color from the transparent blue to something that more closely resembles opal, until it finally looks like she’s holding a solid ball of prismatic opal. From there, she feeds it more qi, and Liu Qingge watches as the core shifts through several different colors and qualities— smoky topaz and golden amber, earthy cat’s eye and pale striated agate— before it finally settles on its original glassy blue.

“This Wraith must have been exceptionally powerful. The cores of Weeping Stone Wraiths have a curious ability to change its appearance with the help of some qi, most likely left over from their survival tactics. However, most Wraith cores lose this ability within several days, so for this one to still have it…” An Baijie pauses, before slightly smiling. “Peak Lord Liu is quite the romantic. How unexpected.”

Liu Qingge’s face heats at that. He certainly is not romantic, especially considering how he’s acted in the past— but that’s not even the woman’s business! How nosy. He crosses his arms and nearly scowls. He would go to another store by this point, but it was recommended to him by Shang Qinghua. An Baijie seems to realize her mistake, and quickly bows her head in embarrassment before apologizing, “My apologies, Peak Lord Liu… That was inappropriate of this one. Please, let this one make it up.”

He grunts indifferently and the woman slightly relaxes— it wouldn’t be good for business to offend a Peak Lord after all. She hurriedly calls for an apprentice, and becomes markedly more serious, finally ready to end the chit-chat. The apprentice, the same one that guided him to the store initially, swiftly brings a wooden box with a glass top over for him to examine. The box is filled almost to the brim with different rings. The rings sparkle and shine under the bright lights of the store, and the shopkeeper begins her spiel: “These are some of our humble offerings. Please allow this one to show Peak Lord Liu.”

The explanations are long and boring, and Liu Qingge elects to mostly ignore her and focus on the rings in front of him. There’s a wide variety on display, and he carefully scans each one and tries to imagine them on Shen Qingqiu’s finger. His ears begin to turn red at that thought, so he quickly abandons that trail. As he concentrates and mulls over the choices, a frown appears on his face.

… None of them are right. It’s not that they’re ugly, or unappealing— Shen Qingqiu would look good in anything. Many of them are large and impractical. They would be heavy and uncomfortable on his finger, and Shen Qingqiu isn’t the type to wear such flashy jewelry. Others are simple— Shen Qingqiu prefers elegance, but that doesn’t mean he wears simple and plain clothing. Shen Qingqiu is the farthest thing from unembellished and unadorned. The decorations on the rings themselves aren’t good enough either. Taking a single glance at them is enough to discard them from the running. 

This ring needs to be something that Shen Qingqiu will like and wear often. It can’t be something that Shen Qingqiu wears once and then puts in a jewelry box to ultimately be forgotten about. He’s seen Yue Qingyuan’s courting gifts be treated in that exact same way, and it absolutely cannot happen to him too. His fist clenches in his lap, but he relaxes it immediately. No need to get worked up. 

“Are these not to Peak Lord Liu’s liking?” An Baijie asks him, and before he can answer she calls the apprentice back. “Lang-er, go bring the other samples. Quickly now.”

The boy salutes her, before running out and quickly returning with more samples. The old box is replaced with a new one, and unfortunately none of them are good enough. The cycle repeats again and again, over and over. If the shopkeeper is getting impatient, she doesn’t show it. On the seventh sample box, he finds some that give him pause. 

“Open the box.” An Baijie barely blinks before complying with his demand. Liu Qingge plucks out three of the rings in the box, placing them on the velvety fabric laid out next to the box. “Something like these. More nature imagery.”

They’re not perfect, but they’re closer to what he thinks Shen Qingqiu would like. The decorations are more subtle, delicately wrought from the metal. The imagery isn’t quite right though— too juvenile. Shen Qingqiu likes nature imagery. His clothes, his fans, even the paintings in the bamboo home heavily feature natural imagery. It’s never to the point where it’s tacky, but always present.

“Of course. One moment.” Instead of calling for the apprentice this time, the shopkeeper actually leaves, pouring some more tea for him before taking the three rings that he had picked out and disappearing out into the front of the store. While she’s gone, Liu Qingge carefully analyzes the rings he’s chosen, and tries to think about what exactly he wants to give Shen Qingqiu. The ring should feature the Weeping Stone Wraith’s core, but not be overly large. The ring itself should be elegant and refined, wrought of silver. Shen Qingqiu has never liked the flashiness of gold. An Baijie comes back after a brief period of silence, and announces: “This one believes that Peak Lord Liu will find this set to be satisfactory, if he would like to look.”

She sounds much more confident this time, cocky even. Liu Qingge glances over to the jewelry that she’s personally brought in, and his attention is immediately caught. She’s right.

As soon as Liu Qingge lays his eyes on it, he knows it’s exactly what he wants. 

The ring, empty of any gem, is stunning. Two elegantly carved cranes wrap around and curve to form the band of the ring, and the setting for the gem lies between the two beaks. The gem’s setting isn’t large enough to be impractical and flashy, but not so small that the monster core’s uniqueness would be lost or unappreciated. The carefully-etched feathers of the outstretched wings are simple, but defined. The matching bracelet is designed to be the exact same on a larger scale, with the gem setting slightly larger. Yes, he could see Shen Qingqiu wearing this often, appreciating it and adding it to the normal rotation of his accessories. If Shen Qingqiu doesn’t like the ring, then he can wear the bracelet instead. 

“I believe this is more to Peak Lord Liu’s taste.” She hands over the set, and Liu Qingge carefully lifts it, appreciating the weight of the jewelry. Not too heavy, but not too light. The polished silver shines in the sunlight. He puts it back on the velvet pillow that she carried it out on and nods.

“Mn.” 

The shopkeeper beams in satisfaction, having successfully completed a sale. She takes out a small piece of velvet and delicately wraps the Weeping Stone Wraith core, before taking a wooden box out of one of her qiankun sleeves. The array on top is somewhat familiar— if he’s remembering correctly, it’s one that links to another array and can send objects through a shared qiankun space. His suspicions are quickly proven correct; the lid of the box glows briefly as the materials are put in and presumably sent to the craftsman.

“We already have Peak Lord Shen’s measurements, so please rest assured that we will get the work done as soon as possible. The jewelry will be ready in two weeks. Would Peak Lord Liu like to pick it up, or for us to send it to Cang Qiong?” The woman politely wraps up, and it doesn’t take long for Liu Qingge to make his decision. Two weeks should be more than enough time to find all of the flowers from Shang Qinghua’s list, and he’d rather not have to deal with the nosy brats on An Ding gossiping about his newest purchase.

“I’ll pick it up.” He stands, and the woman lightly bows to him. “Send the billing to Bai Zhan Peak.”

The ring has been secured, and Liu Qingge doesn’t need to stay out here any longer. Daylight is precious, and he wants to finish as soon as possible so he can return to Shen Qingqiu. 

As he walks down the streets of Huanzhi, his mind wanders off and conjures up the image of Shen Qingqiu’s delighted blush as Liu Qingge slips the ring on. The thought of it causes a flush to rise on his cheeks, but more importantly, it makes him reinvigorated, ready to tear through the forest to find those flowers for Shen Qingqiu.

The flowers on the list are decently hard to obtain. The challenge lights the fire in his bones, sparks of excitement crawling up as he tries to find them. Rare flowers usually mean challenging fights, and Liu Qingge itches for a good fight.

The Seraphim Beloved Lilies are easy to spot. The feather-like petals are distinctive enough, and combined with its unusual pale pink splashes against creamy white, they stand out in the midst of the lush forest greens. But the true challenge comes from the Angelic Winged Snakes that guard the lilies— one is pathetically easy to defeat, but several dozen? The thrill of the fight keeps him light on his feet, and he dodges the rain of white razor sharp feathers with ease. More feathers rain down on him, and Liu Qingge idly wonders if it’s possible to harvest them for gift materials as he cuts them down from the sky. Their poisonous blood nearly drips onto his skin, but it doesn’t matter. The battle ends quickly, and Liu Qingge walks away with the Seraphim Beloved Lilies and a large amount of fluffy white feathers in his qiankun pouch.

The other flowers don’t offer much challenge, disappointingly enough.

The Naiad’s Blessing is gifted to him by a woman that rises out of the river. Liu Qingge nearly cuts her down as soon as he sees her come out of the river, but she quickly dodges and gives him the light blue flower clusters. Unfortunately, she takes that as some sign that they should get married— what’s with these women trying to get engaged to complete strangers?— and he wrenches himself out of her tearful grasp as she pleads to him to stay with her. What a joke. Besides, she gifted him the Naiad’s Blessing in the first place. He has absolutely no obligation to stay. He’s sure that some cultivators would take her up on the offer, but no one can compare to Shen Qingqiu. He frowns in displeasure, but for some reason she blushes a dark blue and tries to convince him to stay even more. Eventually, she sinks back into the river with a scowl, having completely failed in her attempts to seduce Liu Qingge in following her into her watery domain.

Love’s Gentle Breath is the most disappointing, with absolutely no challenge to it. No monsters nearby, easily found in the dense forest… He comes across a patch of the tiny flowers, but they’re completely normal. As he repots some, the only thing that catches his attention is the fact that they smell oddly like Shen Qingqiu— bamboo and jasmine. He chalks it up as coincidence, and continues on his way. There’s several more flowers to find, and the promise of more challenging fights still hovers in the air. 

Impatiently, he tears through the forest. If there’s no fights to be had, then he can return to Shen Qingqiu quicker. Oddly enough, the thought lifts his mood. Either way, he’s going to get the flowers in the end. Luckily, the work is quick— the rest of the flowers do provide a challenge, and he feels his mood get better as he finds tough battles and monsters that give him longer fights. It takes no time at all to battle the hordes of monsters and harvest materials from them, and he exits the forest with his qiankun pouch close to bursting with how much he’s stuffed in there. Thankfully, he brought a second pouch with him. Just to be safe, all of the flowers go into the second pouch where they’re less likely to get damaged on the way back to Cang Qiong. The walk to the jeweler’s is brief as well— An Baijie makes no comment on his bloodied and torn robes, although she pointedly offers to give him a cleaning talisman. Liu Qingge pays it no mind, but he does take out a cleaning talisman from his own pouch and activates it. As the dirt and blood gets sucked into the talisman, she brings the jewelry out from the back and opens the box for Liu Qingge to inspect.

It looks perfect— the rounded cut of the ring’s gem is smooth on the pad of his finger, and the brilliant blue twinkles in the sunlight. As a test, he feeds it qi and thinks of moonstone. He watches in satisfaction as the blue gives way to a milky, multicolored iridescence. He tests the bracelet as well, and is just as pleased. He closes the box gently, and nestles it in his qiankun pouch. Before he leaves, An Baijie addresses him: “Many thanks to Peak Lord Liu. May your union be blessed!”

“...Thanks.” Normally, he wouldn’t even bother responding, but Shen Qingqiu’s gentle scolding about ‘being polite’ pointedly replays in his mind. An Baijie says no more, and Liu Qingge quickly leaves. There’s nothing to keep him in Huanzhi now. He immediately jumps on Cheng Luan, and jets off. He urges Cheng Luan to go faster and faster, and his hair whips violently in the wind from how fast he’s going. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that he can see Shen Qingqiu again.

As he speeds back, he lets himself think about Shen Qingqiu’s reactions. The way he’ll react to the glinting silver of the ring, the way that Shen Qingqiu will delight in the gem’s ability. And the flowers as well— he’ll cut some and arrange them into a bouquet, but still keep the plants’ bases so Shen Qingqiu can carefully cultivate them in the garden. And perhaps when Liu Qingge finally asks for his hand in courtship, Shen Qingqiu will blush and stutter, somehow still unaware of Liu Qingge’s affections. But even though his face will be red, his composure shaken, perhaps Shen Qingqiu will say yes. Yes, he wants Liu Qingge by his side, to offer Liu Qingge his heart and soul. Just that one word— yes. The word echoes endlessly in Liu Qingge’s mind, far louder than the rushing of the wind and the beating of his heart.

Cheng Luan cuts through the clouds viciously, as if aware of Liu Qingge’s single-minded desire to go home.

Chapter Text

Liu Qingge heads to Qing Jing immediately, the midday sun shining on his back. He should see Yue Qingyuan and explain why exactly he took off in the first place, but he has a sneaking suspicion that Shang Qinghua’s already done it for him. He should also stop by Bai Zhan and test his kids, change out of his torn robes. There’s many things that demand his attention, but he ignores them all. What he really wants right now is to see Shen Qingqiu. His tasks can wait for later.

Shen Qingqiu’s teaching his disciples as Liu Qingge approaches the teaching pavilion. Although the learning halls on Qing Jing are more than adequate, Shen Qingqiu prefers to teach his kids in the sunshine, where the peaceful rustling of leaves and the whistling wind underscores his words. Today seems to be music lessons, based on the crystal clear and expert melody played, followed by somewhat clumsy attempts to replicate the sound. Liu Qingge quietly slips into the pavilion, although a disciple or two still fumble as they notice him. Shen Qingqiu keeps his eyes closed, although a faint smile graces his lips as he recognizes Liu Qingge’s qi signature.

Painstakingly, Shen Qingqiu goes through each musical phrase. He keeps his face smooth and calm, even through the sour notes that clash with the chords (courtesy of his disciples). Eventually, they get all the way through the piece, and Shen Qingqiu allows himself to smile gently, looking over the group of children assembled in front of him.

“Very good. Your Liu-shishu was so impressed that he stopped by to listen.” Liu Qingge nearly snorts at that, but he keeps his face blank as the horde of children turn in unison and gawk at him. As soon as they catch his eyes, they turn back with a squeak. Hushed murmurs begin to build up in the room, but Liu Qingge pays it no mind. Shen Qingqiu continues: “Now, where are your manners? We should welcome him warmly. Would anyone like to play for your shishu? This master is sure he’d love to listen. Well?”

The room goes deathly silent. The disciples begin to glance at each other, before bowing their heads. One brave disciple speaks up, “Answering Shizun… These disciples feel ashamed at their incompetence to play correctly. We would like to practice more before playing for Liu-shishu.”

“Hmm. It’s good that you’re aware of your shortcomings. This master noticed that overall, everyone must practice more. There were many small mistakes made during today’s lessons,” Shen Qingqiu acknowledges, tipping his head forward as he talks to the class. The disciples sag at the words, disappointed in themselves. “However, your Liu-shishu still came all this way. It would be rude to send him off without a performance. So, this master will play for your Liu-shishu. This master expects his students to listen closely, and reflect.”

The students snap to attention at that, sitting up straight from where they’re seated. Their eyes are glued to Shen Qingqiu, although Liu Qingge is no different. Shen Qingqiu’s deft hands expertly pluck and strum the guqin’s strings. Liu Qingge knows from shichen and shichen spent cleansing Shen Qingqiu’s meridians that his fingertips are decorated with callouses, skin worn smooth from intensive practice. Under his fingers, Shen Qingqiu forms a sweeping melody, the notes shimmering sweetly over the underlying chords. The music rings in the pavilion, the sounds of birdsong accompanying Shen Qingqiu. Eventually, the song ends, and Liu Qingge lets out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding. Shen Qingqiu looks up, and he smiles brightly before standing from his seat and gracefully heading towards him. 

“Liu-shidi. What did you think?” Shen Qingqiu’s eyes twinkle, and Liu Qingge feels his heart squeeze in his chest dangerously. Shen Qingqiu places his hands out expectantly, and Liu Qingge obligingly takes them in his. He ignores the eyes of the disciples scrutinizing him, glaring daggers at him for taking such liberties with their beloved shizun. Liu Qingge squeezes his hands once, before dropping them. 

“Mn. It was good.” Shen Qingqiu blushes a pleased red at the compliment, and he pulls out his fan to hide behind. The disciples surrounding them begin to talk quietly— although with their enhanced senses, both he and Shen Qingqiu can hear them. Shen Qingqiu looks to the side in embarrassment and speaks to the disciples: “Aiyah, what are you all still doing here? Dismissed!” 

Shen Qingqiu turns back to him, a flush still on his cheeks. Liu Qingge takes the moment to admire the man in front of him— dark and inky hair that he knows from experience is silk-soft to the touch, and the way it flows down to his slender waist. In the sun, the dark ink hair gives way to russet brilliance, transfixing. His skin, pale and unblemished, seems to glow in the pale spring sunlight. His robes, in shades of rich and lush greens, are gossamer-light and chiffon-soft. They caress his skin, casting light and ethereal shadows upon his skin. The swathes of fabric look like the brushstrokes of a master against his skin, painting him with the gentlest of colors. Shen Qingqiu looks like he’s stepped out of a watercolor painting. Soft and hazy, but real and present. 

As always, Shen Qingqiu is beautiful.

“Shidi just came back. Come, let us go home. I’d like to hear all about Liu-shidi’s adventures.” Shen Qingqiu grabs his hand, just as he has always done. Liu Qingge squeezes reflexively, and he looks at Shen Qingqiu just in time to see the fond smile on his face. Together, they step out of the pavilion and begin the walk back to the bamboo house. Shen Qingqiu waits until they’re out of earshot from any disciples that may be hanging around before he launches into his newest ramblings. From the progress that his disciples have made to teasing remarks about their children—

“Ah, we’ve missed you so much! Really, how could you leave our children without even saying goodbye!” Shen Qingqiu scolds him half-heartedly, a tempting fake pout on his lips. Shen Qingqiu pulls on his hand a little more, and Liu Qingge obligingly walks faster.

“Mn. It was wrong of me to leave our children behind. Should we go see them? I’ll take responsibility.” Liu Qingge deadpans, face stoic. Shen Qingqiu laughs at his words, loud and clear, and then laughs some more. He shakes from the force of it, and Liu Qingge stops and fondly waits for Shen Qingqiu to catch his breath. Idiot. Liu Qingge has never been a funny man, and yet, Shen Qingqiu still laughs at all of his awful jokes. Shen Qingqiu turns to him and crowds in his space, and the mood instantly changes.

“No, not today. It’s been far too long since I’ve seen my dearest shidi,” Shen Qingqiu murmurs. Liu Qingge swallows thickly as Shen Qingqiu looks at him with half-lidded eyes, a finger tracing down the front of his robes. An arm begins to snake around his waist, the rustle of silk robes far too loud in his ears as Shen Qingqiu pulls him close. “Surely, Minghui would not deny me the pleasures of his company?”

“Shameless,” Liu Qingge says softly, after a brief pause. “Completely shameless.”

Shameless, he says, but he doesn’t mean it. Shen Qingqiu knows it too— there’s no heat behind his words. Shen Qingqiu simply laughs at him (the sound makes Liu Qingge’s stomach flip), before letting his head tip forward, leaning his weight on Liu Qingge. His breath is hot on Liu Qingge’s neck.

“Me? Shameless?” Shen Qingqiu leans in more, and Liu Qingge embraces him fully. He’s missed this closeness, the feeling of Shen Qingqiu’s warm body clasped within his arms. Liu Qingge feels like he’s on the precipice to something larger than himself, earth-shattering in magnitude, as Shen Qingqiu disregards every single aspect of decorum. The look in his half-lidded eyes, the way Shen Qingqiu purrs out his name— it pulls on the thin strand that makes up Liu Qingge’s restraint. “Ah, if that is true, then I must rely on my dearest Qingge once more. Won’t you take this shameless one home?”

“... Yes. We’ll go home.” 

And for once, it’s Liu Qingge’s turn to do something shameless. He sweeps Shen Qingqiu off his feet, one arm supporting his upper body and another under his knees. Shen Qingqiu squeaks in surprise, clinging harder to his chest. Liu Qingge takes one deep breath and tries to slow his heartbeat.

“Liu-shidi!” Shen Qingqiu yelps out, clearly surprised. “What— you—!”

“It’s faster this way,” Liu Qingge blurts out, feeling the regret rush into him. Before he loses his courage, he starts to run, Shen Qingqiu still cradled in his arms. “I’m taking you home.”

“... Of course, my shidi is truly too reliable,” Shen Qingqiu comments, his words crystal clear as Liu Qingge sprints towards the bamboo house. Shen Qingqiu relaxes in his arms, head lolling into his chest. He lets out a deep sigh, and Liu Qingge feels it more than he hears it. “... This shixiong feels so lucky.”

Despite Liu Qingge being the shameless one, he still feels his heart begin to quicken from Shen Qingqiu’s genuine words. He nearly stumbles at the words, but quickly corrects himself and begins to dash even faster, the gravel under his boots crunching loudly. Eventually he reaches the bamboo house, and he nearly kicks the door down in his impatience. But he refrains from doing so— Shen Qingqiu has never liked that— and tries to put Shen Qingqiu down.

“No,” Shen Qingqiu whines. He petulantly buries his head into Liu Qingge, arms clamping down. “Don’t do that.”

Liu Qingge nearly snorts at Shen Qingqiu’s clinginess, but teases him instead: “I have to open the door— unless you want me to kick it open.”

Shen Qingqiu is silent. Much too silent, like he’s seriously considering it. And then, he relaxes again before muttering into Liu Qingge’s skin, “Ah, what the hell. Just do it, Minghui— Shang Qinghua will live. I don’t want to let you go.”

Liu Qingge turns red at that, but obliges Shen Qingqiu. He very gently kicks the door open— the wood only slightly groans in protest, and the door still stays attached to the hinges. He strides in, but Shen Qingqiu seems to have no plans to be let down. Instead, Shen Qingqiu whispers in his ear, hot against his skin— “Minghui. Let’s go to the bedroom.”

Despite being the War God of Bai Zhan, it would take a much stronger man than Liu Qingge to resist his shixiong’s maddening charm. He marches straight towards Shen Qingqiu’s bedroom, and lets Shen Qingqiu regain his footing. For the first time, Shen Qingqiu doesn’t protest at being let down, but that doesn’t mean that the intense way he looks at Liu Qingge changes. If anything, it intensifies as Shen Qingqiu slowly drags his gaze upwards. He takes his time, and by the end of it, Liu Qingge feels his skin itch with a fiery heat, bubbling up underneath the surface. 

“Minghui, this shameless one must make a request again,” Shen Qingqiu speaks softly, his voice a heady mix of breathy whispers and his normal smooth tone. Liu Qingge tenses as Shen Qingqiu takes his hands and guides them onto his body. “Won’t you help me take these off?”

Liu Qingge’s breath catches in his throat, and he splutters in embarrassment. He can feel his face getting redder and redder, but Shen Qingqiu hasn’t retracted his statement at all.

Forget anything about him being shameless! Shen Qingqiu— that! That man, he truly can’t be this oblivious! 

“Shen Qingqiu!” He hisses out, mortified. “You— you can’t be serious!”

“I am serious,” Shen Qingqiu insists, and he drops his gaze downwards, before peering up at Liu Qingge through his lashes and fluttering them. His lips begin to draw together in a pout, far too heart-wrenching. It’s terrible and unfair, but Shen Qingqiu knows how to play him like a guqin. Liu Qingge feels his resistance begin to slip away as Shen Qingqiu gives him that look. “Please, Minghui?”

… Shen Qingqiu is going to make Liu Qingge qi deviate someday. Maybe he’s already in the middle of one right now. Either way, Shen Qingqiu will get what he wants from Liu Qingge.  Liu Qingge takes one deep breath before muttering, “Fine. Fine!”

With deceivingly steady hands, he reaches for the first of Shen Qingqiu’s many layers. The gauzy material is thin, smooth against his roughened palms. It washes his fingers with a haze of spring green, light and airy. As he unclasps it from Shen Qingqiu’s robes, the fabric slides off, sluicing off of Shen Qingqiu’s strong shoulders. Liu Qingge swallows thickly as the fabric pools around their feet.

Carefully, Liu Qingge begins to help Shen Qingqiu with his robes, untying the tiny knots that hold his rich outer layers together. He tries to ignore the growing heat in his body, the waves of want that crash through him with a staggering force. Slowly, more and more layers begin to sink to the floor, the spring greens of Shen Qingqiu’s fine raiments stark against the polished dark wood flooring.  Eventually Shen Qingqiu is completely stripped of his outer layers, only thin and silky inner robes left to cover him.

It’s a familiar sight at this point, but Liu Qingge’s breath still catches, his heart still quickens in his chest.

“Ah, my shidi is truly too helpful.” Shen Qingqiu purrs out, his voice roughened. He brings his hands up to Liu Qingge’s shoulders, and they begin to travel all the way downwards, stopping at his belt. Those wicked fingers tease at the ends of his belt, twisting and inching closer to the basic knot. “Let me help you. It’s only fair, isn’t it?”

Liu Qingge’s hands jerk at that, all of the blood in his body rushing down to meet Shen Qingqiu’s fingers. But before they can, Liu Qingge desperately tries to stop it using any technique he can— manipulating the flow of his qi, rapidly dropping his body temperature, using breathing techniques. He just barely stops his body from reacting inappropriately, and he comes back to himself as Shen Qingqiu begins to draw back, hands hesitant.

“Wait,” he barks out, grabbing one of Shen Qingqiu’s hands. He places it back where it was, and elects to look down at the floor instead of meeting Shen Qingqiu’s surprised gaze. “...It’s fine. I just… I needed to prepare.”

“We don’t have to,” Shen Qingqiu assures him, trying to draw away again. “It’s alright to say no, Qingge.”

“No,” Liu Qingge replies, voice thick. He looks up at Shen Qingqiu, and brings one hand up to cradle the side of Shen Qingqiu’s face. Shen Qingqiu lets out a sharp breath, but he leans into the touch, eyes closing. Liu Qingge continues, “I want to.”

What Liu Qingge doesn’t say is the truth: I want you. That can come later. But for now, he wants to slip into bed and curl around Shen Qingqiu, to revel in the magnetic pull of his shixiong. Liu Qingge takes Shen Qingqiu’s other hand and folds it around the end of his belt.

Gently, hesitantly, Shen Qingqiu picks at the knot of his belt. He looks up once more as if asking Liu Qingge if it’s truly okay, and then finally unfastens the knot. Nothing happens— of course nothing happens. Shen Qingqiu’s shoulders finally drop, as if there was an invisible string of tension that held them tight. With more confidence, Shen Qingqiu’s hands trail upwards, before pushing Liu Qingge’s outermost robe off his shoulders. Liu Qingge shrugs it off, and the light blue fabric joins the pile of green robes at their feet.

From there, Shen Qingqiu slowly divests him of his outer robes, like Liu Qingge is something beautiful, something precious and delicate. Eventually, the last robe is pushed off his shoulders. He stands in his inner robes, just like Shen Qingqiu. Shen Qingqiu’s fingers continue to play with the hem of his robes, teasing and smoothing over the stitches. Eventually, Shen Qingqiu leans into his chest, turning his ear and pressing against where his heart lies. Liu Qingge waits until Shen Qingqiu pulls away before once again sweeping him into a carry. This time, Shen Qingqiu lets out a pleased little gasp, and melts into Liu Qingge’s grasp.

He allows Liu Qingge to carefully step over their robes and put him on the bed. His gaze is hot against Liu Qingge’s skin. Shen Qingqiu sinks into the soft mattress with a pleased sigh. Liu Qingge steps away to properly put up their robes, but Shen Qingqiu stops him with a hand around his wrist.

“Stay with me, shidi.” Shen Qingqiu asks, his eyes half-lidded. His grip somehow feels stronger than any restraint could ever be. “It’s not important. Would you truly leave your shixiong alone in this state?”

It sounds far too suggestive; Liu Qingge shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t mean it in that way. He doesn’t. Though heat bubbles under the surface of his skin, crawling up his spine and flooding his meridians at Shen Qingqiu’s seductive actions and words, he knows that Shen Qingqiu is unaware. And yet for a moment, his brain imparts scandalous images, teasing sensations of hot breath on sensitive flesh and eyes blown wide from pleasure, sinful noises escaping from Shen Qingqiu’s mouth. 

He nearly slaps himself for those appalling thoughts. How could he have such lustful thoughts, especially in front of the man? But Shen Qingqiu tugs on his wrist again, a pointed reminder. His gaze is softer this time, the heat gone.

“... I won’t push any further, but would Minghui come lay down with me?”

Liu Qingge doesn’t know what Shen Qingqiu means by that— what pushing? All Shen Qingqiu ever needs to do is ask, and he would gladly oblige.

The sun is still shining outside— even though the gauzy curtains on Shen Qingqiu’s windows are shut, pale sunlight still trickles in. Outside, he can faintly hear the sounds of disciples practicing on guqin, trying to improve for a chance to get words of praise from their master. It’s far too early in the day to be lazing about, and Liu Qingge should at least fold their robes so they don’t wrinkle messily.

He ignores all of it. None of it actually matters anyways. They’re both peak lords— they deserve a rest from how much work they do. Besides, their peaks are self-sufficient enough to run by themselves. And the clothes can always be picked up later, wrinkles ironed out. With such solid reasoning, there’s no reason to not rest for a while. Shen Qingqiu smiles at him as Liu Qingge disregards his previous task and nudges Shen Qingqiu to make space for him. As soon as he lays down, Shen Qingqiu rolls over and positions himself with their chests pressing together.

He knows what to expect by now— Liu Qingge obligingly crosses his arm over for Shen Qingqiu, and he smiles into the crown of Shen Qingqiu’s head as the man presses in as close as possible, butting his head against his chin. Liu Qingge tightens his hold on Shen Qingqiu, and their legs tangle together under the sheets. Shen Qingqiu’s breath is hot against the hollow of his neck as he speaks, and Liu Qingge tries not to shudder at the sensation.

“Minghui. I missed you.” Shen Qingqiu whispers quietly, like a secret meant for Liu Qingge alone. “It wasn’t the same without you.”

Liu Qingge thinks about his trip to Huanzhi, and the gifts stuffed into his qiankun pouches. He knows himself— the thrill of a good fight runs through his veins, his push to find and defeat the strongest creatures he can will always be there— but Shen Qingqiu’s absence never truly left his mind. Perhaps when they eventually retire from being peak lords, they can wander together in pursuit of the newest fight, the newest specimen to study. He can’t imagine doing all of it by himself; he wants Shen Qingqiu to stay by his side.

“I missed you too,” Liu Qingge confides after a brief pause. He inhales Shen Qingqiu’s scent— a heady and intoxicating mix of jasmine and bamboo— and presses against Shen Qingqiu more, seeking the comfort of that scent. “I won’t leave for a while after this. I promise.”

Liu Qingge doesn’t fall asleep after that, and neither does Shen Qingqiu. Instead, they simply lay together. Liu Qingge refreshes every memory of Shen Qingqiu like this— carefully taking note of everything. From the electric thrill that races through his body when Shen Qingqiu’s skin brushes against his to the way that Shen Qingqiu’s chest rises and falls. They lay together, taking comfort in each other until the sun begins to sink in the sky, signaling the end of the day. The sounds of guqin outside begin to taper off, until it’s eventually replaced with the much sweeter song of Shen Qingqiu’s breath, rhythmic and lulling.

For the first time in a long while, Shen Qingqiu doesn’t get up from the bed and call for dinner. Instead, he simply stays put, content to be held. Liu Qingge doesn’t get up either— they’re both immortals with no actual need to eat. Eventually, Shen Qingqiu drifts off. His breathing slows, his grip on Liu Qingge slackens. And even though Liu Qingge could very easily slip out of bed at this point, he doesn’t. Rather than get up and train, as he normally would, he allows himself to stay with Shen Qingqiu. Eventually, he will have to part from Shen Qingqiu’s side and speak to Yue Qingyuan about his sudden disappearance, train his disciples, and do his own duties as a peak lord.

But now is not the time. Right now, the only thing that matters is the sleeping man in his arms— the man that he loves. He may be the War God of Bai Zhan, but he knows more than attacking. In this moment, Liu Qingge defends Shen Qingqiu from any nightmares that dare interrupt his peaceful sleep, defends him from the cold loneliness he felt while Liu Qingge was gone. Liu Qingge is a warrior, but for Shen Qingqiu, he’ll willingly put himself on the defensive line.

As Shen Qingqiu rests, Liu Qingge keeps his eyes sharp for anything that dares to interrupt his peaceful rest, shichen after shichen.

It’s a normal evening when Luo Binghe bursts into the bamboo house, clearly having run all the way from An Ding. Shen Qingqiu is pressed against his side, but he doesn’t dislodge himself from Liu Qingge. Shen Qingqiu stops his poetry recital (Liu Qingge finds himself oddly displeased despite the fact he doesn’t even like poetry) and the Qing Jing Peak Lord’s face slightly sours at the interruption. Or at least, Liu Qingge thinks he saw it sour, the side profile of Shen Qingqiu somewhat unclear. As he tries to check it, the expression leaves in a flash, so brief that Liu Qingge nearly wonders if he’s simply imagined it.

“Shizun!” The boy chirps happily, his eyes sparkling. He doesn’t even acknowledge Liu Qingge’s presence. “This disciple has finally returned.”

Shen Qingqiu doesn’t even look at the boy.

“Go get Ming Fan. Quickly now.”

Luo Binghe’s disappointment at the lack of a warm welcome visibly crosses his face, but the boy runs off to do as Shen Qingqiu commands. The door clicks shut behind him, and Shen Qingqiu waits for a moment to place a bookmark in the book and take Liu Qingge’s hand. He offers a wry smile.

“I must be honest with you, Minghui. The laps and time at An Ding weren’t the only parts of their punishment,” Shen Qingqiu admits. Liu Qingge nearly arches a brow at the statement— the Qing Jing Peak Lord is notorious for light punishments. The amount of laps and the sheer amount of time was, by Qing Jing standards, one of the harshest punishments ever administered by the soft peak lord. “I… I was afraid that I would punish them too harshly, so I didn’t do all of it at once.”

The concept is ridiculous— Shen Qingqiu, harsh? This is the same man that always has a bowl of candy for his disciples, the one that’s constantly being trailed by puppy-like disciples eager for the affection he freely gives. But on a more detached level, Liu Qingge understands exactly what he means. They were both put under extreme pressure, and emotions were running high. It would be uncharacteristic for Shen Qingqiu to simply act on his emotions instead of carefully thinking what punishments would help Ming Fan and Luo Binghe truly reflect on their actions.

“I think that the punishments that I’ve come up with are effective enough, and I hope that Minghui also feels satisfied.”

“I will,” Liu Qingge replies. In truth, Shen Qingqiu’s original punishment was satisfactory enough. Although it was relatively light by his standards, he knows that when it comes to their disciples, physical cultivators can be pushed much further than spiritual cultivators. Qing Jing and Bai Zhan have always carried out vastly different punishments. The standard Bai Zhan punishment would probably kill a Qing Jing disciple on the spot.

They fall quiet after that, and only a few moments pass before Luo Binghe comes back with Ming Fan. A polite sounding knock rings out, and Shen Qingqiu calls out, “Ming Fan. Come in!”

The door swings open, and Ming Fan at least has the decency to bow to Shen Qingqiu and then him in respect.

“Shizun, Liu-shishu,” Ming Fan greets, although his voice sounds rather shaky. The boy straightens up, looking them both in the eyes.

“Ming Fan, do you know why you’re here?” Shen Qingqiu asks him, even though they all know why he’s here. Ming Fan looks two seconds from shriveling up.

“... Yes, Shizun. This disciple was supposed to reflect on his shameful actions and tell Shizun.” Ming Fan takes a deep breath, ragged on the intake. Shen Qingqiu nods, and he gestures for Ming Fan to continue. The head disciple continues, “This disciple let a martial sibling convince me to do something terrible without telling Shizun first, and caused both Shizun and Liu-shishu to, to…”

Ming Fan’s voice trembles, but he continues: “This lowly disciple caused a separation between Shizun and Liu-shishu to form. This disciple… This disciple helped Luo Binghe mislead Liu-shishu, delivered the packages to Bai Zhan…” Ming Fan frame shakes, his voice now so unsteady it’s nearly incomprehensible. “This disciple was wrong!”

“Come here, Ming Fan,” Shen Qingqiu says. Despite his words, Shen Qingqiu is the first one to stand and make his way over to the boy. He pulls Ming Fan into a comforting hug, and the boy stiffens before finally bursting into tears— real tears that roll down his cheeks and leave burning trails on the boy’s face. “Shh, shh. It’s alright.”

The tears flow and flow, raggedy breaths that shudder out so violently that the boy shakes like a leaf. Shen Qingqiu lets the boy cry in his arms, making vague comforting noises. Shen Qingqiu waits until the boy finally runs out of tears, and offers him a soft piece of cloth to wipe his tears with.

“This master knows you regret it,” Shen Qingqiu comforts him. “You are still my disciple. Listen to this shizun carefully. For now, Ning Yingying will act as my head disciple, and you will be her assistant. This master thinks you could learn a lot from your shijie. If you do well, then this master will consider appointing you as my head disciple again. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Ming Fan nods furiously. His fist clenches at his side, but Liu Qingge can tell that it’s from determination, not anger or resentment. “This disciple promises to work hard and make shizun proud!”

Liu Qingge’s never been good with kids, but this one… He can see just how sincere the boy is.

“Good.” Shen Qingqiu ruffles his hair and with one more hug, he lets the boy go. Ming Fan bows deeply to them both once more before exiting. Shen Qingqiu returns to his seat next to Liu Qingge, and briefly snuggles into his side, his hand intertwining with Liu Qingge’s. But just as soon as it comes, the moment leaves as Luo Binghe opens the door and enters without further permission.

“Shizun—!”

Shen Qingqiu cuts him off immediately.

“This master sees that Luo Binghe still has not learned.” Luo Binghe visibly wilts, but Shen Qingqiu continues, “This shizun had hoped that the extra laps and time on An Ding would have caused self-reflection, but it seems that was unhelpful.”

“Begging Shizun’s pardon,” Luo Binghe says. It hasn’t escaped Liu Qingge that the boy hasn’t even looked regretful of his actions. “This disciple was very excited to come back home, and forgot to knock.”

Shen Qingqiu nearly flinches at that statement, and he pulls out his folding fan. A tense silence falls upon him, and Luo Binghe is the first to acknowledge it: “...Shizun? Is everything okay?”

Shen Qingqiu squeezes Liu Qingge’s hand, and takes a breath. Behind his fan, Liu Qingge can see that his mouth is turned downwards. He squeezes back, before dropping his hand and moving it to sling against Shen Qingqiu’s waist comfortingly. Luo Binghe looks ready to jump at him for daring to touch Shen Qingqiu, but Shen Qingqiu’s next words cause the boy to freeze in place.

“Luo Binghe, this master is extremely disappointed. You haven’t shown any sign of regret for your unfilial actions, even with having a harsher punishment compared to Ming Fan.” Shen Qingqiu’s eyes flick downwards, before looking Luo Binghe in the eyes. “This master has cleared a room in the disciple’s dormitory.”

Shen Qingqiu doesn’t directly say it, but the implication is clear. Luo Binghe’s face cracks in half, pure shock and surprise on his face. But is it really that surprising? Master and disciple never live together, and with Luo Binghe on his way to adulthood, Shen Qingqiu would have had to make the boy move out someday. The words seem to have completely changed the boy, and he stammers out some protest. Shen Qingqiu cuts him off with a simple gesture, and Liu Qingge watches in satisfaction as the boy’s jaw clicks shut.

“But now that Binghe is back, this master wonders if it isn’t enough. This master has been too lenient.” Shen Qingqiu pauses for a moment, and Liu Qingge can nearly see the calculations running through his head. “Binghe will move out immediately. After that, this master will temporarily place you on Qiong Ding Peak.”

“Let me take him,” Liu Qingge suddenly interrupts. Shen Qingqiu looks over quizzically. Luo Binghe is Shen Qingqiu’s disciple, and highly favored. Though Liu Qingge was affected by the boy’s actions, he technically doesn’t have any say in the final punishment. Still, he persists. “There’s always room on Bai Zhan.”

There’s two parts to his sudden interruption. First and foremost, Luo Binghe has the capability of being dangerous. His blatant manipulation of his own martial siblings, his unfilial desires for his master… The boy is a ticking time bomb. If he was willing to interfere with the business of peak lords and not even be guilty about it, then what other lengths would he go to in order to achieve his goals? It’s best to place the boy in an environment where such underhanded and dirty manipulation would get him left in the dust. The second part is that Luo Binghe has potential. Liu Qingge doesn’t like to admit it, but it’s true. It’s obvious that Luo Binghe’s a physical cultivator, and with a solid foundation, he could be a true Bai Zhan disciple. Though Liu Qingge isn’t the most present of peak lords, Luo Binghe could still gain some valuable experience from staying on Bai Zhan. There’s not much reason to put him on Qiong Ding.

“No!” Luo Binghe blurts out, and the tears suddenly begin rolling down his face. The boy looks like a kicked puppy, and even though Liu Qingge knows it’s fake, he nearly feels sympathy for the boy. He glances over to Shen Qingqiu, and the troubled look on his face. “Shizun, please! This disciple is sorry! Please don’t…”

“Shameless,” Liu Qingge scolds. Luo Binghe nearly scowls at him, his frown deepening as Liu Qingge continues. Liu Qingge’s arm squeezes on Shen Qingqiu’s waist, but he keeps his eyes trained on Luo Binghe. “You only apologized when you truly got punished. You have not reflected on yourself at all.”

“Your Liu-shishu is right.” Shen Qingqiu finally speaks again. The fan has been laid down, and Shen Qingqiu’s disappointment is projected fully. “Call some of your martial siblings to help you move out and into the disciple dorms. You can stay for a week, and then depart for Bai Zhan. This master will send someone to bring you back if I feel that you have learned.”

Luo Binghe drops to his knees and prostrates himself in front of Shen Qingqiu. It’s pathetic. This boy is a cultivator, is he not? Why does he act more like a young master being parted from a favored nanny?... Perhaps this boy might actually die on Bai Zhan. Liu Qingge eyes him warily. Luo Binghe’s about to launch into a spiel when Shen Qingqiu sighs.

“Enough of that. Binghe, dismissed.” Shen Qingqiu says. The boy freezes from his place on the ground, before standing up. His head hangs low, shoulders drooping. It truly does look pitiful. Liu Qingge feels no pity for the boy, but he does feel a quiet sense of judgment settle over him. Shen Qingqiu stands from his seat again, and crosses over to Luo Binghe. But instead of hugging the boy, as he did with Ming Fan, he simply ruffles his hair. “Go call Ning Yingying or Ming Fan to help you move.”

Luo Binghe catches Shen Qingqiu’s hand, grabbing it before Shen Qingqiu can pull away. Liu Qingge jumps out of his seat and shouts at the action, but Shen Qingqiu’s surprise is quickly hidden away.

“Shizun, please let me stay! Please,” Luo Binghe urges. “I don’t want to leave home—”

“Quiet.” Shen Qingqiu takes his hand out of Luo Binghe’s grasp. He takes several distancing steps away from Luo Binghe, and Liu Qingge quickly intercepts him, taking a step forward and placing himself just barely in front of Shen Qingqiu— not shielding him, but simply there. “Binghe has taken too many liberties— including touching this master without further permission. I will not change my mind on this matter. Go. I will not warn you again.”

The words finally seem to sink in. Luo Binghe runs out of the bamboo house in distress, no goodbyes, no respect paid. Together, they watch silently as Luo Binghe runs off into the distance. As always, Shen Qingqiu is the first one to break the silence.

“Are you sure you want to take him?” Shen Qingqiu asks him seriously. “He’s usually so obedient to me, but I don’t know if he’ll listen to you or any of your disciples…”

“It’s not an issue,” Liu Qingge replies. “He’ll learn sooner or later. Aren’t you afraid that he’ll get hurt?”

Shen Qingqiu hesitates. It’s no secret that the man is soft on his disciples— completely opposite of how Liu Qingge treats his. Liu Qingge adds after a bit, “...You can send him to Qiong Ding. He doesn’t have to go to Bai Zhan.”

“...No,” Shen Qingqiu finally responds. “He has potential. You’ve seen it too. He’ll be fine.”

Shen Qingqiu looks out the window, contemplative. He turns back to Liu Qingge. A mischievous look crosses Shen Qingqiu’s face, replaced with a look that only appears when he’s about to say something incredibly shameless. Liu Qingge dreads the next words out of his mouth. “You know, Minghui…”

Shen Qingqiu flashes him a wicked smile, the edges of his lips curling. His eyes look dark, and he crowds into Liu Qingge’s space, one arm wrapping around his waist and the other hand coming up to tease at the edges of his robes.

“We don’t have to worry about being walked in on anymore. Why don’t we take advantage of that now?”

“Shameless! You, how can you say such a thing?” Liu Qingge bites out, more than aware of how his face burns. He quickly tries to distract Shen Qingqiu from his shameless little joke. “... At least finish your poem.”

Shen Qingqiu blinks in confusion, and then laughs. The heavy air disappears, something light taking its place. Together, they sit back down. Shen Qingqiu picks up the book, and flips back to the poem he was reading before they were interrupted.

“Fine. How could this shixiong ever deny his shidi?”

Chapter Text

The jewelry box burns in Liu Qingge’s sleeves. It’s simply lacquered wood, but every time he feels it brush against his skin, he nearly shudders. The box feels heavy with intent, and everytime he tries to bring it up, he fails miserably. During dinner, after meridian cleansing, hell, even before they retire for the evening. But as soon as Liu Qingge thinks he has the courage to do it, the words leave him. The smooth lacquer makes him clam up, and each time he’s had to brush it off as nothing. 

The previously undefeated War God— stopped by a jewelry box of all things. It’s ridiculous, a stain on his pristine career. 

Infuriatingly, Shen Qingqiu’s noticed his frustration too. Shen Qingqiu gives him odd looks when he thinks Liu Qingge isn’t looking, and despite the man’s burning curiosity, he’s restrained himself from ever asking. There’s far too many bouts of awkward silence now, and Liu Qingge hates it. For once, Liu Qingge wishes he could just be as shameless as Shen Qingqiu is at times.

His hand twitches, and the hot tea in the cup promptly splashes onto his skin. Shen Qingqiu tsks , but his furrowed brow and the downwards curl of his lips tells Liu Qingge that he’s not truly mad.

“Aiyah, I expect better of Liu-shidi. Isn’t this a shameful appearance?” Despite his words, Shen Qingqiu delicately covers the burned skin with his hand, and passes golden qi through his palm. The qi sinks into the skin, before Liu Qingge’s body accepts it and it meshes into his meridians. Liu Qingge grunts in appreciation, but Shen Qingqiu only sighs in an exaggerated manner. “Are you not the Bai Zhan War God? Surely, my shidi wouldn’t be defeated by tea of all things.”

“And if I am?” Liu Qingge takes Shen Qingqiu’s hand off of his skin, before flipping it over and reversing their positions. He sends a thread of qi back to Shen Qingqiu, despite having already cleansed his meridians earlier in the week. Shen Qingqiu huffs out, but accepts the qi anyways. “What if tea is my weakness?”

Shen Qingqiu’s mouth trembles as he tries to suppress his laughter, and Liu Qingge can’t help but tease him further: “The War God, defeated by tea— is it truly so funny?”

Liu Qingge has never joked like this before— after all, to suggest that the War God is weak is incredibly foolish. Still, he makes the joke anyways, pokes fun at his title and it’s absolutely worth it, because Shen Qingqiu bursts out into laughter. Finally, Liu Qingge thinks. Shen Qingqiu’s eyes crinkle, and Liu Qingge doesn’t try to hide it— he simply continues to look at Shen Qingqiu and drinks in just how expressive Shen Qingqiu is when he’s not hiding behind his fans.

“Shidi, you… Really!” Shen Qingqiu bursts out into a fresh round of laughter, before he eventually recomposes himself. “But I have to say… I’ve noticed that shidi has been struggling with something.”

Ah. Liu Qingge turns quiet at the thought— he still hasn’t been able to do anything about it yet. Shen Qingqiu takes a deep breath, but continues: “You don’t have to tell me anything. But, I hope you know that I… I care for you.”

Shen Qingqiu looks far too embarrassed for his own good, and Liu Qingge relaxes at the reminder. Shen Qingqiu cares for him— of course he does. Even if Liu Qingge asks to court him, Shen Qingqiu would never use it as an excuse to break off their friendship.

“Yes,” Liu Qingge finds himself replying after a moment of silence. “I… I care for you too.”

Shen Qingqiu turns a darker shade of red and stutters out a reply— but Liu Qingge doesn’t hear it, too entranced by the way Shen Qingqiu’s lips move and curve around his words. Beautiful. 

Liu Qingge is done with running away, of stuttering out half-hearted excuses and awkward silences. Tomorrow, he thinks. Tomorrow, he’ll finally ask for Shen Qingqiu’s hand in courtship. 

“When I come back tomorrow, let’s meet in the garden.” Liu Qingge boldly proposes, although he can feel his face catch on fire at the thought. “We haven’t been in a while. We should see the children and check on the plants.”

Shen Qingqiu perks up at that, before beginning to ramble: “Oh, Qingge is so smart! Yes, we need to go see our children. They’ve missed their father quite dearly, they’ll be glad to see the both of us again. Ah, while shidi was away, the plants have gotten so much taller, the flowers have come back too—”

Liu Qingge leans forward in his seat, enraptured as Shen Qingqiu continues to talk about their garden. His peach blossom eyes sparkle, his fan long-forgotten about as he begins to express his emotions freely. His smiles, freed from the fans that so often cover them, are blindingly bright.

Shichen and shichen pass, but Liu Qingge never stops Shen Qingqiu himself— it’s only when the man gets cut off by his rumbling stomach that his words finally stop. The rest of the evening proceeds as normal. They eat together, as normal. Shen Qingqiu teases him and steals what he wants from Liu Qingge, and Liu Qingge puts the best parts in Shen Qingqiu’s bowl while they converse. From there, they split up to go bathe and put on their sleeping clothes. They dry each other’s hair, comb through it and oil it, and then they slip into bed together. As usual, Shen Qingqiu is the first to fall asleep.

It’s become routine at this point, but Liu Qingge double-checks to make sure that the man is truly asleep, and then pulls him closer. Shen Qingqiu is warm in his embrace, his silk-soft hair clings to Liu Qingge. Quietly, Liu Qingge whispers into Shen Qingqiu’s skin.

“I love you. Shen Yuan,” Liu Qingge whispers, hushed. He’s aware of how cowardly it is to repeatedly confess his love to a sleeping man— and yet. “I love you.”

Liu Qingge closes his eyes, and tries to fall asleep to the gentle rise and fall of Shen Qingqiu’s breath, the expansion and contraction of his chest under his fingertips.

Liu Qingge wakes up early, and watches as the light of dawn covers Shen Qingqiu in a brocade made of gold. Despite the shut curtains, the honeyed fabric of the sun still drapes itself over Shen Qingqiu’s peaceful form. In the light, Shen Qingqiu is illuminated in the resplendent fineries that he deserves. It is not the golden raiment itself that is beautiful— but it transforms into a garment worthy of the heavens because Shen Qingqiu wears it. 

His hair, strewn across the pillow, looks wild and untamed like Liu Qingge’s chaotic and impatient brushstrokes on paper. Although Liu Qingge likens it to ink, Shen Qingqiu’s hair is more like black onyx, jet-dark and shiny. The sun catches on Shen Qingqiu’s onyx hair and the darkness gives way to smooth and shiny copper strands. Copper and onyx are not rich enough, not precious enough to describe just how much Shen Qingqiu is worth— but his shixiong still makes it beautiful.

An immortal of jade with onyx hair and a face carved from perfect marble. But Liu Qingge knows that underneath his visage, a heart of opal lies underneath. Opal is suited for Shen Qingqiu. His heart is enrapturing and mysterious, every part of it precious. The multifaceted streaks of rainbows that shine through Shen Qingqiu’s heart hidden by the opaque jade that constitutes the rest of him. 

A soft stone for a soft heart.

“Good morning.” Shen Qingqiu murmurs out, his voice still rough from sleep. His arms come up to wrap around Liu Qingge, and he meets Liu Qingge’s eyes. An unguarded smile creeps onto his face, and he brings one hand up to stroke at the side of Liu Qingge’s face.

“Good morning,” Liu Qingge replies. He’s never cared for pleasantries, but Shen Qingqiu makes it tolerable. They fall quiet after that, but no words need to be exchanged between them. 

The morning is a terrible thing— in just a bit, they’ll need to get up and get dressed. Shen Qingqiu has to go entertain some guest cultivators today, which means that he has to look even more elegant and put together than normal. To Shen Qingqiu, that means that he has to spend more time than normal putting himself together. To Liu Qingge, it means less time spent together. Extra morning practice would normally be appealing, but Liu Qingge finds that it’s not this morning.

“Qingge, would you help me dress this morning?” Shen Qingqiu asks him sweetly (as if Liu Qingge could ever refuse the man). “Shidi is very good with his hands.”

The innuendo must be unintentional, so Liu Qingge doesn’t even bring it up. This is not the first time that Shen Qingqiu has asked for his help before (memories of a certain peak meeting come to mind), but Liu Qingge still freezes in embarrassment before muttering an affirmative. Shen Qingqiu simply huffs at him, but the man rolls over and swings his legs off the side of the bed before getting up. Liu Qingge follows too, and Shen Qingqiu opens the swinging doors to his closet before sighing deeply. He leans forward, and Liu Qingge quickly slots his hand in between Shen Qingqiu’s head and the wood of the closet before it can make contact. Shen Qingqiu’s head hits his hand with a muffled thump.

“Don’t complain,” Liu Qingge scolds. Really, Shen Qingqiu is just… His lip twitches upwards in amusement. Shen Qingqiu steps away from the closet petulantly, and begins taking out some robes. Liu Qingge’s brows raise further and further as more robes are taken out, until Shen Qingqiu has what feels like nearly half his closet in his arms. No wonder he asked for Liu Qingge’s help.

Shen Qingqiu hands off the robes to him, before heading to the privacy screen and immediately changing. Liu Qingge pointedly looks away, and tries to sort out the robes in a logical manner. The heavy ornamental silks must be outer layers, but there’s a few ornamental layers that he can’t quite figure out— thin and light, but there’s so little fabric that he doesn’t know whether it can even count as a layer at all.

Shen Qingqiu comes back quickly, and his nose scrunches up at the reminder of what he has to wear today. It’s an incredibly childish look, and yet Liu Qingge is still as enamored. Luckily, Shen Qingqiu knows the order in which to put them on, and Liu Qingge assists him with the fiddly buttons, clasps, and ties that keep the ensemble together. 

Oddly, putting the clothes on Shen Qingqiu is so much more intimate than taking them off— Liu Qingge’s self-restraint is pulled taut as he slides gauzy fabrics onto Shen Qingqiu’s arms and body, carefully buttoning the clasps on his shoulders, the graceful line of his neck, and down his body. As he slowly ties silken ribbons together, Shen Qingqiu begins to shed his personality as Shen Yuan and slips on the lofty mantle of the Xiu Ya Sword, the graceful and elegant Peak Lord of Qing Jing. 

“Thank you, Minghui.” Shen Qingqiu squeezes his hands in a show of thanks, and Liu Qingge squeezes back instinctively. Shen Qingqiu smiles brightly, before playfully gasping in shock. “My fan! It seems I’ve lost it— do you know where it is?”

Liu Qingge snorts at the terrible joke. Shen Qingqiu laughs a bit too, but Liu Qingge obliges him anyways. He picks up the fan that he had rescued from Shen Qingqiu’s robes yesterday and presents it to Shen Qingqiu. Shen Qingqiu turns pink at the action: “Aiyah! I didn’t actually expect that! Truly, Qingge is too good to me.”

Shen Qingqiu gratefully takes the fan and snaps it open, although he lowers it so Liu Qingge can see his smile.

“Thank you shidi.” Shen Qingqiu’s eyes stray from Liu Qingge’s, landing on the side of his face before he quickly looks away and flutters his fan quickly. “You’ll be back early today, right?”

“Mn.” 

“Then, I will wait for you in the garden. I have to go now— but I’ll try to finish early.” Shen Qingqiu gives him one last longing look, and then he exits. Liu Qingge takes several steadying breaths, and begins to dress.

He needs to train today— that much is certain. And after training his kids, he’ll need to carefully arrange and cut the flowers he got for Shen Qingqiu, and add a preserving talisman. He’ll need to take a bath, and change into his nicest robes. But after that, he’ll fly back to Qing Jing and meet Shen Qingqiu in the garden. And there, Liu Qingge will finally confess his affections. He takes steadying breaths, and ignores the way that it hitches when he thinks of Shen Qingqiu’s response. He ties his belt, and once that’s done, he heads out for Bai Zhan.

With a small paring knife, Liu Qingge gently severs the stems of the flowers. They’ve slightly wilted from the stressful trip to Cang Qiong, but putting them in water seems to freshen the blooms, the heads perking right back up. He places them one by one into the vase, but the vase quickly begins to overfill from how many flowers he’s brought. He frowns and brings out a new vase. He quickly runs into yet another problem— he has no idea how to arrange them. There’s something about the way that they look next to each other that seems wrong. It’s not quite right— but he knows nothing about how to make it look pretty. 

He moves the Seraphim Beloved Lilies next to Golden Honey Bracelet, but they clash against each other. He moves Naiad’s Blessing next to the Golden Honey Bracelet instead, and it somehow turns out worse. The lilies look awkwardly tall compared to the other flowers, despite all of them being cut to the same length. The small green blooms of Scholar’s Grace look dismally tiny in comparison to the huge Opalescent Camellias. Everytime he moves or tries to change the flowers’ placements, it looks worse and worse. 

Liu Qingge’s face pinches. They’re all nice looking flowers, but he can’t make them look good. He ponders his options as he absent-mindedly moves a stem of Heroic Hyacinths next to Sweet Affection’s Honeysuckle. Obviously, Shen Qingqiu is out of the question— the flowers are for him, after all. Shang Qinghua, despite his initial help, is truly awful with aesthetic coordination. Liu Qingge nearly shudders, suddenly reminded of the awful saffron-yellow robes mixed with the steel gray cape Shang Qinghua nearly wore to a political delegation. That leaves Liu Qingge with nearly no one he can turn to. The lavender of the Opalescent Camellias suddenly brings an idea into his head, and Liu Qingge nearly smacks himself with how stupid he’s been.

Ming-mei. His little sister— she would know how to make something look pretty, right? She’s always had a better eye for that kind of thing.

Liu Qingge jumps out of the window and calls Cheng Luan, jetting off towards Xian Shu Peak with determination setting his brow.

Xian Shu does not accept male visitors, so Liu Qingge jumps off of Cheng Luan at the foot of the peak. One of the disciples opens her mouth to tell him to leave, but Liu Qingge cuts in before she can even get a word out.

“Tell your shizun that I need Liu Mingyan. It’s an emergency.”

The disciple’s face pinches— Liu Qingge knows that the girl isn’t allowed to leave her station, but the urgency of his request makes her falter. There’s also the fact that despite his sister living on Xian Shu, Liu Qingge has never been the one to reach out first. The girl quickly breaks. The other girls guarding the base of the peak warily eye him, but Liu Qingge ignores them.

The girl from before quickly reappears, with Mingyan by her side. Mingyan’s steps are swift and precise, and although she looks calm, Liu Qingge can see the flash of worry in her eyes.

“Hm.” Liu Qingge briefly acknowledges the girl who brought Mingyan, before turning to his sister. “Come, quickly.”

Mingyan bows to the frazzled disciples in apology and acknowledgement. Liu Qingge doesn’t wait for the pleasantries— he simply calls Cheng Luan. As soon as Mingyan’s attention returns to him, he takes off.

Their swords cut through the air, and they quickly arrive at his house on Bai Zhan. Before Mingyan can even speak, Liu Qingge points to the vase.

“I’m asking for Shen Qingqiu’s hand,” Liu Qingge bluntly states. Mingyan’s eyebrows raise in surprise, but he continues. “Help me make this pretty.”

Mingyan has been pestering him about Shen Qingqiu for the longest time, so it’s no surprise that she’s struck speechless. Liu Qingge impatiently waits as she recomposes herself.

“You could’ve told me much earlier,” is all she gets out, a rare scowl crossing her face. Despite her words, Mingyan immediately starts scrutinizing the flower arrangement in the vase. “Hm. No wonder you needed my help.”

Liu Qingge bristles at her words. He wasn’t even sure if he’d truly ask for Shen Qingqiu’s hand in courtship earlier, and she’s the first to know anyways. Mingyan carefully begins to move the flowers around, making light conversation as she does so.

“How are you asking him?” Mingyan idly shifts Heroic Hyacinths next to Scholar’s Grace, but she side-eyes Liu Qingge with an intense look. “Are you only giving him flowers?”

“No. I have some jewelry too,” Liu Qingge explains. He double checks his pouch for it and relaxes when he feels smooth lacquered wood against his fingertips. “A bracelet and a ring.”

Mingyan hums approvingly as she continues to arrange the flowers. He watches Mingyan’s actions intensely and tries to make sense of the logic behind her decisions.

Somehow, Mingyan has already made the arrangement in the vase look so much better than what he could have ever managed. The Golden Honey Bracelet artfully intertwines with Love’s Gentle Breath, the Seraphim Lilies don’t look so awkwardly tall when paired with the proud blooms of Opalescent Camellia. Mingyan idly feeds the plants revitalizing qi, and the flowers begin to stand tall once more, their leaves taking on a smooth glossy sheen.

“There.” Mingyan stands back and nods at her work in satisfaction. Liu Qingge crosses over to her and pats her shoulder awkwardly in a show of thanks. Despite her earlier comments, Mingyan still softens under his touch. “Good luck, Ge. He’ll say yes, I know he will.”

Liu Qingge scoffs at that— “Mn. Be respectful.” As an afterthought, he adds: “Don’t tell your shizun about this.”

Mingyan’s amused look tells him that his request won’t be honored at all, but she still acknowledges it with a tilt of her head. 

“Bye. I’ll see you later, right? Tell me how it goes.”

With that, Mingyan bows before exiting his house. He watches through the window as she jets off on her spiritual sword.

Carefully, Liu Qingge takes out a white ribbon from his pocket. He lifts the whole arrangement of flowers and manipulates his qi to securely tie the ribbon around the stems. Finally, he activates the preserving talisman embroidered onto the ribbon. The talisman, one of Shen Qingqiu’s genius inventions, will prevent the flowers from wilting or even moving out of place.

He sets the whole arrangement back into the vase, and lets himself lean against the table for just a brief moment. There’s still a lot of preparation left to do, and it’s with that thought that he pushes himself to go do what’s necessary.

Liu Qingge sinks deep into the bath, and tries to relax. The scented oils in the bath are heavy in the air, and he wrinkles his nose. Still, he allows it to soak into his skin and even massages it into his hair. Normally he wouldn’t bathe with oils at all, or even choose mint, but it’s for Shen Qingqiu.

You know shidi, mint makes me think of you… It’s comforting.

Liu Qingge lets the memory of that sweet confession wash over him, and closes his eyes. The steam of the hot water is a luxury, and the oils envelop the room in a sharp scent. Eventually, he opens his eyes. While he’s here, he must clean himself. Methodically, he washes over each patch of skin, taking extra care to rub the oil in and let it absorb. After, he tips his hair into the warm water, and carefully cleanses that too. He takes the extra time to simply soak in the water, and when it finally begins to feel cold, he rises out of the bath and towels down. 

With proper care, his hair is silk soft and smooth, dark and shiny. He carefully combs through it and makes sure there’s no knots and tangles, and eventually the comb slides through with ease. 

He braids a section of his hair flat against his scalp, and then ties his hair up in his usual manner. It’s perfectly even this time, no lopsidedness or stray hairs falling out. Liu Qingge peers at himself in the mirror, and carefully looks for any flaws. Satisfied, he leans back and heads out of the bathroom.

Without much fanfare, Liu Qingge opens up his closet. It’s… rather bare, actually. Of course, that’s to be expected— most of his everyday robes have somehow been transferred to Qing Jing, mixed in with Shen Qingqiu’s seemingly unending closet. It doesn’t matter much though because Liu Qingge needs to wear the nicest set he has. 

In the end, Liu Qingge hesitantly chooses the set that his mother gave him seemingly years ago at this point. The embroidery of willow trees is tasteful, silver thread on dark blue. The contrast between the two is not one that Liu Qingge prefers, but he knows that it looks good. The brocade is luxurious, something that would fit Shen Qingqiu’s closet more than his. As he slides on the fussy outer robes, the fabric drapes heavily, richly. He feels out of his skin, vaguely itchy despite the robes being far softer than most things he owns. But when he looks in the mirror, he knows that he’s made the right choice— he looks less like the famed Brute of Bai Zhan, less like a man known for his terrifying viciousness on the battlefield. Like this, he looks more like a young master, a man who could pass as nobility. There’s no hiding the bulk of his muscles, but rather than feeling like he could burst out of these delicate robes at any time, Liu Qingge feels like the robes appropriately highlight the best of him. As expected, his mother truly does have an eye for aesthetics. It takes everything in him not to accidentally fist and crumple the sides of his robes. 

He takes in a sharp breath, and looks over himself once more. Just to make sure that he looks good enough for Shen Qingqiu.

No torn robes, no matted and tangled hair. Blood doesn’t stain his robes. This is the best he has ever looked, and really, this is the only time he’s truly cared for his appearance. He carefully attaches Cheng Luan’s scabbard to his side, and checks his qiankun pouch for the lacquered jewelry box. He feels an odd sense of relief upon feeling it, and takes it out just for the last time. He carefully opens the box, and sets it on his table.

There’s not much time to spend on something unnecessary, he knows. But for a single moment, he reflects as he stares at the silver jewelry laid on soft velvet. He touches the Weeping Stone Wraith core on the ring, feeding it a single strand of qi. Brilliant blue gives way to the lavender of amethyst. He smiles for the briefest of moments, and recalls what seemed to be the start of it all—

A geometric marvel of nature, triangular petals that arranged themselves in a precise circle. The tips of the petals that formed intersecting lines and shapes. There were hundreds of petals on the bloom, but it still stood upright, proudly lifting its head.  The edges of the petals blushed lavender. And perhaps it was a trick of the light, but the petals seemed to glow, light radiating from its core.

It was a flower, and nothing more. 

But Shen Qingqiu looked at him like he brought the greatest gift of all.

The purple fades away, and the stone returns to the clear blue it was. Liu Qingge polishes the metal of the set gently, and shuts the box with a soft click. It gets stowed away into his qiankun pouch, and Liu Qingge takes the vase off his table. On second thought, he leaves the crystal vase on the table, and takes just the bouquet with him.

The fragrance is floral and sweet, with an odd note of ground ink underscoring all of it. No matter. He shuts the door and carefully steps onto Cheng Luan. Despite his worries, the sharp pang of anxiety that pokes at his heart, he forces himself to fly slowly. It wouldn’t do to meet Shen Qingqiu with rumpled robes and windswept hair, messy.

Liu Qingge waits in the pavilion, pacing back and forth. After a quick deliberation, he takes the ring out of the box and snaps the box shut quickly, as if someone could see him. The bracelet can wait for later; it’s the ring that’s truly important. The ring goes into his pocket— he double-checks, triple-checks, and then checks once more to make sure it’s still there. The flowers have been moved to an inconspicuous spot for now, and he checks where he’s put them, as if he could forget where he’s placed them.

He can’t help it— he’s nervous.  

The fine brocade itches on his skin, and Liu Qingge forces himself to still. He can’t let Shen Qingqiu see him so nervous, it’ll trigger far too many well-meaning questions and Liu Qingge won’t be able to get it out. He still doesn’t know what he’ll say to the man yet!

Court me sounds too much like a demand, not a request. Let me court you is better, but not that good. Liu Qingge has never been good with his words, and he nearly scowls at himself for it. If he could express the feelings that lie deep in his chest, then maybe he could express this plea, this request.

But Liu Qingge finds there’s no time left for any of that, because Shen Qingqiu is here, already back. Liu Qingge freezes in place, and finds it in himself to greet the man that he loves.

“Shen Yuan.”

Oh.

Shen Qingqiu, Shen Yuan— he is beautiful. Liu Qingge has seen peerless beauties of legend, goddesses with sweet faces. He’s seen men chiseled by the gods, men with striking features that demanded attention. But none of them could ever compare to the man in front of him.

He’s still dressed in those lavish robes, and for a split moment, Liu Qingge is reminded of a weathered illustration in one of the books he used to read to Mingyan when they were younger. A kind spirit, with a beauty that could move the hardest of hearts and a voice to rival the goddesses of music. When Liu Qingge was younger, he would read that story often, and gaze upon that person— so lovingly rendered as a beauty, to forever be remembered that way.

His mother had teased him about that— our Minghui is quite the romantic!— but Liu Qingge truly understands what it means now. Liu Qingge may not be an artist, but Shen Qingqiu demands to be painted, for his form to grace the pages of storybooks as a beloved character. His gentle demeanor, the unending kindness. Yes, Shen Qingqiu could be a character from a fairy tale, his beauty forever remembered in illustrations steeped in adoration.

Liu Qingge vocalizes none of this, but he takes Shen Qingqiu’s hand and says one thing: “You’re here.”

“Yes. Of course I’m here, Minghui.” Shen Qingqiu laughs lightly, the sound pleasant. He shuffles closer for an embrace, and lightly nuzzles against Liu Qingge’s chest. “I’ll always come for you. I do have to ask— is something important going on today? Your robes…”

Shen Qingqiu pulls back at that, and he gently smooths exploring hands over the fabric of Liu Qingge’s robes. Liu Qingge indulges him, and lets him do as he pleases.

“Yes,” he croaks out. He clears his throat, before repeating it with conviction: “Yes, there is.”

He leads Shen Qingqiu to the middle of the pavilion, and nearly twitches in nervousness. Shen Qingqiu looks at him with those eyes, the ones that seem so very fond. He calls upon his worth as the Bai Zhan War God, and opens his mouth to speak—

Nothing comes out. He tries again, and again, his mouth opening and closing stupidly as he tries to vocalize his thoughts. Shen Qingqiu looks concerned, and he tucks back a loose strand of hair behind Liu Qingge’s ear.

“It’s alright, Minghui. It’s just me.”

Liu Qingge almost scowls at that— stupid. It’s because it’s Shen Qingqiu that he feels so nervous. This is the man that he loves, has loved for a long time now. Right now, he balances in the gray area of Shen Qingqiu’s affections, and he needs to know where he stands. 

“Shen Yuan,” he finally gets out. Just those two syllables, and it feels like the weight of Cang Qiong Mountain crushes him. “Shen Yuan.”

“Minghui,” Shen Qingqiu responds, his mouth curving into that sweet crescent. The hand near his head comes up to cradle the side of his face, before dropping back down, to his side. He can’t help but notice that it’s the right hand too— the one that Shang Qinghua told him the ring should go on. 

With determination, Liu Qingge shoves his free hand into his pocket and quickly grasps the ring. Shen Qingqiu jerks in surprise at the motion, and then complains in protest as Liu Qingge grabs his hand just as swiftly.

Despite the urgency of the situation, Liu Qingge feels his movements slow. His breaths feel uneven, raggedy. Each moment stretches and stretches, winding along a path that he can’t trace. The silver in his hand burns cold, and Liu Qingge takes one deep breath.

Shen Qingqiu’s hand is soft. Despite the callouses that decorate his hands, Shen Qingqiu’s hand is devastatingly soft. Earth-shattering. The world, for one singular moment, shrinks down to the contact of their hands.

With shaking hands, Liu Qingge slides the ring on Shen Qingqiu’s finger.

Shen Qingqiu’s muscles lock, and Liu Qingge knows that he knows what it means too. For the very first time, Shen Qingqiu is aware. Shen Qingqiu says nothing, still shocked to the point of an uncharacteristic silence.

“You don’t have to say yes,” Liu Qingge murmurs. The sharp feeling in his heart demands otherwise, but this is not about his feelings. It is Shen Qingqiu’s choice, and if Shen Qingqiu says no, then Liu Qingge will step back and force his feelings to fade away.

Shen Qingqiu snaps his head up, and Liu Qingge briefly panics— there’s tears in his eyes, flowing down his face and Liu Qingge is the one that put him there— before the impossible happens. 

Shen Qingqiu cradles his head with those gentle hands, and kisses him.  

Shen Qingqiu kisses him, perfect lips that press against his. They move against his own lips and Liu Qingge, still shocked and dazed, misses the movement of those fine lips settling around hushed words. Shen Qingqiu nearly pulls away, but Liu Qingge pulls him in, again and again and again. His arms encircle the body of the man that he loves, and pulls him closer, reveling in all of Shen Qingqiu. He greedily takes and takes from Shen Qingqiu, taking all that he’s offered and folds it deep within his heart before he demands for more. Shen Qingqiu simply obliges him, and the frenzied desire slows into something softer, something sweeter. His hands, calloused and rough, gently capture Shen Qingqiu’s face and wipes away the tears that fell from his eyes. Eventually, Shen Qingqiu pulls away, just a bit.

“Yes. Yes,” Shen Qingqiu murmurs softly against Liu Qingge’s lips. His fine mouth leaves three gifts along the right side of his face— the corner of his mouth, his cheekbone, and against the shell of his ear. He comes back and kisses the center of Liu Qingge’s mouth briefly, and then decorates the left side of his face in the same manner as the right. Liu Qingge nearly shudders at the sweet touch. In his ear, Shen Qingqiu whispers: “Of course I’ll marry you. My love, I could never say no. Never to you.”

Liu Qingge freezes. Marry— marry? All this time, he’s been pining and pining, unsure of Shen Qingqiu’s true feelings towards him. And now, instead of courting, Shen Qingqiu wants to get married? No, that doesn’t make sense at all. Surely, there must have been a mistake somewhere, some misunderstanding. 

“Shen Yuan,” Liu Qingge finds himself saying, helpless against the flood of emotions rocking his soul. He closes his eyes momentarily, overwhelmed by the glow that comes from his heart. He asks him with a false sense of calm: “Do you remember when we first started courting?”

Liu Qingge takes Shen Qingqiu’s hand and brings it up, leaving a kiss on the skin of his knuckles. The ring on his finger shines in the sunlight, the light blue gem casting rainbows in the pavilion’s shade. Shen Qingqiu huffs out a laugh, but graciously allows Liu Qingge to keep his hand. His lips continue to travel, and he imparts just a breath of qi into his lips as he kisses the ring. The stone begins to turn a lovely green, the same shade of Shen Qingqiu’s eyes.

“Of course I do, how could I not? My Minghui is a romantic,” Shen Qingqiu teases him lightly before turning his attention and admiring the ring, the way that the stone reflects and casts light in the pavilion. Liu Qingge nearly flushes, and Shen QIngqiu playfully rolls his eyes. “Ah, this shixiong cannot believe that his beloved forgot!”

Liu Qingge lets the joke roll past him (his mind briefly gets stuck on that word, beloved, just for a stuttering moment)— Shen Qingqiu doesn’t need to know that it’s true. The Qing Jing Peak Lord takes his hand then, and lays a kiss to Liu Qingge’s knuckles, a mirror to his own actions.

“My darling shidi brought me Cupid’s Gaze of Adoration. At the time, I wasn’t aware that you loved me at all, you know.” Shen Qingqiu leans in for another kiss, sweet. The soft touch leaves them both shuddering, breathless. “But that flower… It begins to turn purple when exposed to intense feelings of love. A very romantic thing.”

There’s only one flower that Liu Qingge’s ever brought back that matches that description. Suddenly, it feels like his world has shifted, slanted to fully allow the beams of sunlight in and reveal the truth. 

Shen Qingqiu’s insistence on sharing fruit, the display cabinet shelf for his gifts alone, Lavender’s Love Wisteria planted for him. Buttoning his cloak, rejecting Yue Qingyuan, sharing a bed, and now the revelation that the fact that they’ve already done two of their three bows wasn’t just a thoughtless mistake, but sincere and intentional because Shen Qingqiu loves him, wants to be tied together for the rest of their immortal lives—

“I love you,” Liu Qingge suddenly blurts out. It feels like he’s ripped open his robes, cracked open his chest and allowed Shen Qingqiu to see the soft, beating heart that lies behind his ribcage. He repeats it again, softer: “Shen Yuan, I love you.”

“I know. I know, my love.” 

Liu Qingge’s heart beats erratically at the address, and he nearly chokes on the deep feelings of adoration that well up in his throat. Shen Qingqiu embraces him fully, and gives him another kiss on the cheek. The need for words falls away completely, and the world becomes them alone. The Qing Jing Peak Lord Shen Qingqiu and the Bai Zhan Peak Lord Liu Qingge do not exist in this singular moment, nor does Cang Qiong Mountain.

The world consists of Shen Yuan and Liu Minghui, the shared breath between them and the tinkling of the wind chimes that hang from the pavilion above.

“There’s only one bow left,” Shen Qingqiu says, his clever fingers tracing the embroidery on Liu Qingge’s robes. His head inclines forwards and touches Liu Qingge, just for a moment. “If Liu-shidi wants…”

In response, Liu Qingge picks up the love of his life— his soon to be husband— in his arms. Shen Qingqiu yelps in surprise, his arms flying up and catching on Liu Qingge’s neck. His laughter bubbles up and out, lighter and sweeter than any music Liu Qingge’s ever heard. 

“Spin me!” Shen Qingqiu demands, and the pleased crescents of his eyes, the smile lines that form there are more than enough reasons for Liu Qingge to do so. He obliges, and the childlike glee that radiates off of the Qing Jing Peak Lord makes him fall harder, faster in love somehow. He does it again and again, but he feels far more dizzy because of the man in his arms. “Let’s go home already!”

And although Liu Qingge is eager to go home, he can be patient. Careful. Slow. The man in his arms groans at how slow he is, but Liu Qingge knows to savor the moment. Shen Qingqiu is easily placated by the stops to kiss him breathless anyways.

(They have to turn back when Liu Qingge realizes he forgot the flowers, but Shen Qingqiu peppers his face and neck with kisses on the way back— and well, Liu Qingge nearly forgets all over again.)

Liu Qingge has never bowed to Shen Qingqiu before. Before the qi deviation, Shen Qingqiu was a figure that didn’t deserve that respect. Before the qi deviation, Liu Qingge had despised Shen Qingqiu.

As he gets ready to perform his final bow with Shen Qingqiu now, he wonders what his younger self would say in response. 

“Ready?” Shen Qingqiu squeezes his hand briefly, a comforting pressure, and then lets go. This time, it is only them in the bamboo house. No Sect Leaders, no sticky disciples to interrupt them in this world-ending moment. Though there are no red robes, no wedding banquet that awaits them, Liu Qingge finds it better this way. 

Together, they bow. Together, they rise.

Liu Qingge sweeps Shen Qingqiu into his arms, and kisses him, stealing the breath from his lungs. They still need to exchange their wedding wine to finalize their bond, but Liu Qingge wants nothing more than to simply revel in the closeness of his husband. 

Eventually, Shen Qingqiu peels himself away, kissing his cheek is a sweet gesture before going to the kitchen to grab the wine and cups. He returns quickly, his hurried steps loud on the wooden floor. The wine is unusually fragrant— Liu Qingge doesn’t know much about wine, but it smells different than the normal kinds.

“Does it smell good? I made it with the mandarins from the garden,” Shen Qingqiu explains as he pours the wine. The wine is a light orange color, the scent sharp but sweet. “I saved some for this purpose— ah! I mean, I saved them for wine, er…”

Shen Qingqiu stumbles on his words, and Liu Qingge’s heart warms. Shen Qingqiu really has loved him all this time. Shen Qingqiu knows that he doesn’t like most wines, and to save his favorite fruit and turn it into their marital wine… 

“Hurry up,” is what Liu Qingge eventually manages. Shen Qingqiu laughs a bit, but he sits gracefully. They cross their arms— Shen Qingqiu’s arm over his— and pick up the cups of wine.

The wine is sweet, burning as it goes down their throats. Liu Qingge watches, transfixed, as Shen Qingqiu swallows. Eventually, they both finish the wine, and they set the cups down. The clink of porcelain is loud in the quiet of the room. This time, Liu Qingge is the first to lean in. Shen Qingqiu’s eyelids flutter shut, and Liu Qingge stops just before their lips make contact. Instead of finally giving in and laying the kiss where Shen Qingqiu wants it most, he turns his head and lays it on the sharp angle of his cheekbone.

“You tease,” Shen Qingqiu huffs. He brings a hand up and brings Liu Qingge’s lips back to where he wants them, leaning in and bringing their lips together.

Unity. Completion.

Liu Qingge dares to deepen the kiss. Shen Qingqiu freely allows him to go further, go deeper. Shen Qingqiu resettles himself on Liu Qingge’s lap, and Liu Qingge’s hands freely roam this time. They travel, exploring and cataloging the feeling of Shen Qingqiu’s pliant body in his hands. Though Shen Qingqiu has allowed him to touch before, Liu Qingge has never dared to touch him like this. Shen Qingqiu arches into the touch, his hands squeezing deliciously at Liu Qingge’s shoulders. Breathy noises escape his lips, and Liu Qingge feels sparks of want light up throughout his system. Liu Qingge’s hands travel further, further…

“Minghui!” Shen Qingqiu gasps, smooth baritone breaking with heady desire. “Don’t tease me!”

Shen Qingqiu pulls him into a greedy kiss, and the heat builds and builds, Liu Qingge’s rationality blurring and slipping away. Shen Qingqiu breaks away first, chest heaving. Liu Qingge takes the moment to indulge himself and stare shamelessly at his husband. His glassy eyes, kiss-bitten lips and high flush that paint his cheeks contribute to the dazed look on his face, slackened with pleasure. His hair is messy from where Liu Qingge grabbed, robes rumpled and coming loose— if Shen Qingqiu had worn less layers today, then perhaps he would've been able to see bared skin. Shen Qingqiu is truly…

“Beautiful,” Liu Qingge breathes out. “You are beautiful.”

“Stop delaying,” Shen Qingqiu whines, and that tone makes Liu Qingge’s mind blank. 

“Minghui,” Shen Qingqiu purrs out. His hands travel down, down and stop right at his belt, clever fingers pulling slightly at the ends of the fabric strip there, teasing. Liu Qingge leans in for just one more kiss, and Shen Qingqiu allows him to. “My love. Won’t you finally…”

Shen Qingqiu flushes red, and he leans in, lips grazing Liu Qingge’s ears. His perfumed scent envelops Liu Qingge, heady and dizzying. He wants to sink his teeth into it.

“Our bed awaits.”

It takes a second to process, and then Liu Qingge feels a rush of blood surge to the surface of his skin, the desire underneath demanding to be expressed. His mind coaxes him further, with thoughts of Shen Qingqiu underneath him, moaning out loud and unashamed, eyes rolling back in pleasure, his back arching up from silken sheets as Liu Qingge brings him to the point of completion, over and over—

He picks Shen Qingqiu up. His hands squeeze supple flesh, and Shen Qingqiu whines out, high and reedy. Shen Qingqiu’s long, lovely legs wrap around his waist, powerful muscles flexing. Liu Qingge nearly chokes at the sensation. Quickly, he heads towards the bedroom, thrill racing through his spine. It is their wedding day, and Shen Qingqiu is in his arms, left wanting. Liu Qingge could never deny Shen Qingqiu anything— especially not this.

Shen Qingqiu smiles a wicked smile, full of promise as Liu Qingge lays him down on their bed. The sheets are light washes of green, the only gold to be found pours in from the windows covered by gauzy curtains.

But the bruises that he sucks into Shen Qingqiu’s skin bloom marital red, and Liu Qingge finds that it’s all that he could ever want.

It’s only a shichen after they finish that Liu Qingge wakes up. It’s now early afternoon.

But instead of getting up and starting his training for the day, Liu Qingge finds himself in a state where he’s content to let the day slip by without his usual routine. He stays quiet, but the smile on his face grows.

Beside him, Shen Qingqiu snuffles, his face slack in sleep.

Liu Qingge looks, his eyes admiring his handiwork from last night. Shen Qingqiu’s fair skin is covered in the marks he left in their passion last night, trailing down his neck, across his chest and down his stomach. They don’t look as red as they had anymore, but they still please him. The pillow sticks to his cheek, his hair still mussed from… Liu Qingge feels heat rise in his body just thinking about it. 

He had taken and taken, then gave all of the pleasure right back to Shen Qingqiu. And then he kept going. He kept going, until the moon rose, and continued until the moon sank in the sky and sunlight began spilling onto their bed. Though his husband— his husband, Liu Qingge thinks with satisfaction— was tired, he didn’t stop. They didn’t stop, not until Shen Qingqiu had nearly passed out from the overstimulation, his body shaking and quivering from the seemingly never-ending waves of pleasure.

Liu Qingge runs his hand down Shen Qingqiu’s side, before stopping at his flank. He squeezes gently, just the smallest taste of pressure. Shen Qingqiu moans out a needy sound in his sleep, and Liu Qingge holds back any notions of waking Shen Qingqiu to fulfill his own wants. He had asked a lot of his husband last night, and Shen Qingqiu should sleep.

But Shen Qingqiu blinks awake, his green eyes finding Liu Qingge’s immediately. He smiles, brighter and more blinding than the sun could ever be.

“Good morning,” he mumbles, voice hoarse. He sounds wrecked in the best way possible, and Liu Qingge knows that he won’t be able to teach today. Liu Qingge comes closer and kisses him, unable to resist the siren call. Shen Qingqiu sighs, pleased. “Mph. It’s too early, darling.”

Despite his words, Shen Qingqiu moves closer, the thrill of his bared body pressing against Liu Qingge’s quickly urging his blood to pump through his system. Liu Qingge huffs at his antics.

“My husband is tempting me,” he replies. Liu Qingge turns his head and nips gently at Shen Qingqiu’s ear, before moving back down and pressing a soft kiss to one of the bruises he left last night. Shen Qingqiu lets out a breathy little gasp. “How am I to resist?”

Husband. Liu Qingge murmurs the word into soft skin, and then gives into his building desire and pushes himself up and over Shen Qingqiu, trapping his husband between his arms. Shen Qingqiu’s eyes dilate, green irises a thin ring around large dark pupils. 

“Shen Yuan,” he whispers. “Shen Yuan. I love you.”

Liu Qingge whispers it again and again and again. But this time, instead of being bathed in silvery moonlight, the sun wraps them in a veil of golden light. This time, Shen Qingqiu is awake to hear his words. Liu Qingge lets the familiar cadence slip from his mouth, insistent and absolute.

“I love you,” he murmurs, before leaning down to capture those soft lips once again. “I love you.”

Shen Qingqiu’s arms wrap around his body, urging him to close the gap. Liu Qingge falls willingly. Shen Qingqiu’s eyes close as they share yet another soft kiss, gentle and tender.

“I know,” Shen Qingqiu replies, eyes crinkling. “Minghui, my husband. I love you too.”