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Chapter Text

Luo Binghe frowned down at the seizing body in the pot. He'd stopped the blood loss from the jagged wounds where Shen Qingqiu's legs had been only moments before, but his former Shizun's condition was still worsening. Binghe could reattach the legs…but he didn't want to. And besides, that wouldn't fix the problem. 

Shen Qingqiu had been fine when Luo Binghe had torn his legs off. Well, not fine, exactly—him not being fine was the whole point—but he hadn't been dying, either. 

Luo Binghe had been very careful about that. 

The torture session had started off well enough. When his legs were removed, Shen Qingqiu had screamed that short, gasping scream that he always made when he couldn't hold it in any longer, and then he'd gone silent, pale-faced and trembling as he struggled to remain consciousness. That had been in keeping with his reactions to torture thus far, and had been expected, if a bit underwhelming. 

It'd made Luo Binghe wonder, though: what would it take to make his Shizun break? To make him cry? If sheer pain was enough, Luo Binghe would have already succeeded. 

Perhaps a more subtle approach was called for. His Shizun always had said Luo Binghe was too brutish…

The plan he'd come up with to use those legs to entrap and kill Yue Qingyuan should have been perfect. When he'd explained it to Shen Qingqiu, Luo Binghe had expected a wordless snarl, or perhaps one of those cold, arrogant sneers. 

Instead, Shen Qingqiu had begun to shake. 

For a moment, Luo Binghe had been ecstatic. There were actual unshed tears in his Shizun's eyes. They weren't falling, but they were there! And then the shaking had intensified, and Shen Qingqiu had begun to choke, his spittle flecking into a bloody foam as it left his lips. His eyes—always so sharp, even when he was screaming—had gone hazy and distant.

As he stared down at the pot, Luo Binghe realized that Shizun wasn't even there anymore. Not really. His mind was somewhere else, carried off by the qi deviation that was ravaging his body. 

What was the point of it all if he died like this? So quickly, and so disoriented that he didn't even know Luo Binghe was in the room, much less the cause of his suffering? Luo Binghe called for Huan Hua's best healers, but they could only delay the inevitable. There was only one man that could cure him. 

Mu Qingfang wouldn't be difficult to summon. Luo Binghe hadn't sent the legs, killed Yue Qingyuan, or burned down Cang Qiong…yet. 

And so Luo Binghe left the Water Prison to go write an appropriately polite yet urgent letter to his old sect, stopping along the way to chuck Shen Qingqiu's legs into the same chest as his other discarded bits. Relations between the two sects weren't friendly—especially now that rumors of Luo Binghe's demonic nature had begun to spread—but when had they ever been? If Luo Binghe said that Shen Qingqiu needed him, then Mu Qingfang would come.

When Shen Yuan opened his eyes, he couldn't see. 

Blinking did nothing. Neither did turning his head. He couldn’t even tell if he was successful in his attempts to do either—his body was numb and disconnected, and without any sensory feedback he was left floating weightlessly in a dark void.

Whatever the hospital put me on, he thought, it must be good stuff. Which was a bad sign, objectively, but his emotions were also dulled, and so he couldn’t find it in him to worry too much about it.

Gradually, the muffled, distorted sound of a man's voice began to trickle in.

"...and how am I supposed to stabilize him when he can’t talk to me to tell me what’s wrong? In order for me to heal him, you need to fix him enough to..."

As quickly as it had emerged, the voice faded, becoming more and more distant until it was like trying to listen to someone at the other end of a long tunnel. In another moment it was gone completely, and Shen Yuan was left alone in the silence.

When he next woke up, things were better. He could see light, for starters! Sure, it was a blurry light—so much so that he couldn't make out anything clearly—but it was enough of an improvement on the void that he was counting it as a win.

The man’s voice was back, too. It was closer now, and it was easier to make out the words, though it still sounded muffled. It was as if there was a thick layer of gauze between Shen Yuan's mind and his body, and another between his body and the rest of the world. Even through all the cotton in his head, though, it was easy to tell that the man who was talking was upset. 

"He’s been through a lot of trauma," the man was saying. "That’s not the kind of thing I can prescribe a medicine to reverse, and no matter how much you manipulate his blood, you can’t fix it, either."

More blood-work? The story of his life. Shen Yuan sighed, and decided he should probably join the conversation so that they could get his informed consent for whatever litany of tests they were about to put him through.

"Hello?" he said. It was surprisingly difficult to talk. His voice was hoarse, and his tongue felt bulky and slow, like he’d just gotten a shot of Novocaine.

The last time he'd gotten Novocaine, he'd drooled all over himself. Was he drooling now? He wanted to pat his face to check, but he couldn't move his arms. 

The voice paused. "You’re awake?"

"Do I sound like I'm asleep?"

That was probably too harsh—the man was just trying to do his job. It wasn’t his fault Shen Yuan had eaten bad food and somehow landed himself in the hospital. Again. He tried to smile to soften his words, but his mouth was so numb, he couldn’t tell if it had worked or not.

He was definitely drooling, he just knew it. 

One of the blurs in his field of view shifted, and he thought the man was probably leaning over him. He heard more than felt the man’s hands checking him over and taking his pulse from his neck.

"What medicine did you give me?" Shen Yuan asked. "I can’t feel my arms or legs."

The man froze. 

There was a long moment of silence. Then, from across the room, someone laughed.

And okay, Shen Yuan had been dumb to eat what was in hindsight obviously expired food, but what about professionalism? He frowned in the direction of the laugh, then turned back to face the nicer doctor. "I know the dinner I ate was bad, but I don’t understand why the effects were so severe. Did the food poisoning trigger a relapse?"

"Food poisoning?" The nice doctor sounded stumped, which wasn’t a great sign. 

"Yes, from the yogurt."

"Yogurt?"

Maybe the mean doctor was more competent. Shen Yuan turned his face towards where the laugh had come from, and tried to smile again. "How about you? Do you know what’s going on? Can you help me?"

The mean doctor inhaled sharply—and what, was he shocked that Shen Yuan would ask him for help? What kind of doctor was he? The silence that followed was long enough that Shen Yuan was beginning to think he’d fallen asleep again and hadn’t noticed, and then the nice doctor laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

"You've been given some medicine to dull the pain. It might also have reduced your eyesight and hearing, though I haven’t heard of memory loss as a side effect. Do you know where you are?"

"In the hospital."

The hand on his shoulder tensed. "No. I’m…I’m sorry. This is the Huan Hua Palace." His tone was grave, but his words...

Shen Yuan blinked, surprised. "You've read Proud Immortal Demon Way?"

"What?"

"The book about the adventures of Luo Binghe." Shen Yuan yawned. The cotton in his head was starting to thicken.

"Oh, this I have to hear," said the mean doctor. "Please, tell me more about this book."

"This is hardly the time—" the nice doctor started, but Shen Yuan never got to talk about PIDW. It had consumed his life for untold hours and the only people he’d been able to rant about it to had been strangers on forums. If he had a chance to talk to a real life person about it, then no force on Earth was going to stop him.

"The author's a bit of a hack, but the monsters are pretty cool! So is Luo Binghe," he said. He launched into a brief elevator pitch for PIDW, making sure to focus on the real reason to read it: the protagonist. How he never gave up, despite the hardships heaped on him even at such a young age; how he entered Cang Qiong only to be bullied by both his shixiongs and his Shizun; and how he entered the Immortal Alliance Conference and was winning, but was betrayed by his Shizun when his demonic heritage was revealed.

"You're speaking quite highly of someone who's half-demon," said the mean doctor thoughtfully. "Surely such a person would be evil?"

"Hm? No, he never hurts anyone who doesn’t deserve it."

The nice doctor’s hand tightened on his shoulder to an uncomfortable degree. Shen Yuan tried to surreptitiously wiggle out of it, with no luck.

"And what about the other characters in the book?" the nice doctor asked softly, his gentle voice at odds with the death grip he had on Shen Yuan's shoulder. "You mentioned Luo Binghe’s Shizun. Do you remember him?" 

"Shen Qingqiu? Of course." Shen Yuan frowned. "Who could forget the scum villain?"

The mean doctor was laughing again. It was a beautiful laugh, and it also kind of made Shen Yuan want to crawl out of his skin. The nice doctor, on the other hand, had tensed up even more, and now seemed to be trying to dig through Shen Yuan’s shoulder using only his fingers and the power of his grip.

He’d leave a review about their bedside manner later, he decided.

Right now the cotton was closing in, and he let the darkness drag him back under.

"Tell me more about the scum villain Shen Qingqiu," the mean doctor said. He’d brought in some sort of soup, then retreated to the far side of the room. Shen Yuan had been ready to chew him out for it—a lack of bedside manners was one thing, but his doctor should be able to remember that he was experiencing numbness in his extremities and couldn't feed himself. But a moment later the nice doctor entered the room as well, and had begun patiently spooning the soup into Shen Yuan’s mouth. 

It tasted better than any hospital food Shen Yuan had ever had, and now someone wanted him to talk more about PIDW? He grinned. His almost-complete lack of sight and limited movement were annoying, but other than that, he'd count this as one of his top ten hospital visits ever.

"Are you sure? Luo Binghe is more interesting."

"I'm sure he is. Humor me."

What was there to say? "There's not a lot to Shen Qingqiu. He bullied Luo Binghe: gave him a fake cultivation manual to cripple his cultivation, made him sleep in the woodshed, beat him to near-death for minor offenses, that sort of thing. When Binghe's demonic heritage was revealed, he tried to kill him by pushing him into the Endless Abyss."

"Why do you think he did that?" the mean doctor asked quietly. He'd moved closer as Shen Yuan spoke, and now Shen Yuan could see his shadowy silhouette looming over him.

"There was this Black-Moon Rhinoceros Python that—"

"No, before that. Before he knew Luo Binghe was a demon. Why was Shen Qingqiu cruel to him?"

"Dunno. Jealousy, probably," said Shen Yuan, shrugging. "His cultivation was kind of shit, and he saw that Binghe would be better than him at—well, pretty much everything—and he couldn't take it." 

"...And?"

"And?" Shen Yuan didn't understand.

"Is that it?" the mean doctor asked, incredulous. "Was it really so simple? So petty?"

"I didn't say it was a good book." 

The mean doctor laughed, harsh and bitter. "So Luo Binghe didn't do anything wrong? He wasn't deficient? He didn't misstep, or offend?"

"What? No, he was fine," Shen Yuan said. "Shen Qingqiu was just an asshole, and pretty boring, really. There are better villains later. Now, what you really want to hear about are the creatures in the book—no matter how shoddy the writing got, the monsters were always fascinating."

He began to explain PIDW's most creative monsters, which were a much better sell than the book's mediocre scum villain. After a minute, the nice doctor resumed feeding him soup, slipping spoonfuls into Shen Yuan's mouth when he paused his story for breath, while the mean doctor listened in silence.

Then, suddenly, the mean doctor leaned in. "You know what?" he said, cutting short Shen Yuan's explanation on the elusive Twelve-Headed Leopard Snake of the northern mountains. "You've convinced me."

"Convinced you?" Shen Yuan paused, confused.

"Yes. Tell me, do you remember your name?"

The nice doctor inhaled sharply. "You shouldn't—" he started, then there was a click as his jaw snapped shut, and he went silent.

Well. Okay, then. 

"I'm Shen Yuan," Shen Yuan said, frowning. He was beginning to get a bad feeling about all of this. "If you're my doctor, you should know that."

"Ah, my mistake. Well, Shen Yuan, you've convinced me that this is worth my time." His voice had a pleasant lilt, but there was no mistaking the intensity in it. "I've decided I want to see where this story of yours goes."

He reached down and touched Shen Yuan's chest, and Shen Yuan could feel his blood start to—there was no better word for it—buzz.

"This will hurt," the mean doctor said cheerfully, and then the buzzing intensified. 

Shen Yuan's world exploded into agony.

Shen Yuan definitely wasn't in a hospital. 

There was no telling how much time had passed since the mean doctor had done…whatever that was, but he was awake now, and his eyes were finally working. 

He almost wished they weren't. The room he was in looked like it was from a historical drama—a tacky one, judging by all the gold accents and over-the-top embroidery on the fabrics. It was a lot to take in, both visually and in general.

"How are you feeling, Shen…Yuan?"

He turned his head to see the nice doctor: a worried looking man in traditional green robes.

Shen Yuan wasn't stupid. Between the gaudiness of the decorations and the content of the previous conversation, he knew what had happened. The yogurt had killed him—and he really hoped they left that detail out of his obituary—and he'd transmigrated. Into the Huan Hua Palace. 

Into Proud Immortal Demon Way. 

Which he'd just been blathering about as if it was a book. 

The doctor probably looked so concerned because he thought Shen Yuan had lost his mind. Shen Yuan winced.

"Are you in pain?" the man asked, quickly reaching for Shen Yuan's hand. He carefully turned his wrist over, and then Shen Yuan felt a cool, soothing tide of energy sweep up his arm and into his chest.

Shen Yuan stiffened for a second, so surprised by the alien sensation that he almost yanked his hand back, but the doctor didn't seem to find his jumpy reaction strange. He kept passing Shen Yuan what had to be qi, and after a moment, Shen Yuan forced himself to relax. "I'm not in pain," he said. 

The doctor gave him a skeptical look.

"I'm not!" He felt weak, but the only real discomfort he felt were some strange aches in his shoulders and hips. 

Speaking of…

"What happened to me?" he asked. 

The qi flowing through him stuttered for a moment. "You've had a bad qi deviation," the doctor said. "Do you remember what set it off?"

"I don't," Shen Yuan said. He scanned the room again, but there was nothing to hint at who from PIDW he might be, or what story arc he was in. 

"I see. And do you know who I am?" the doctor asked.

"You're…" Shen Yuan racked his mind for the Huan Hua doctors' descriptions and names, but none seemed to fit the man in front of him. 

His hesitation spoke for him—the doctor's face tightened. "Perhaps you'd recognize me from your book, then. My name is Mu Qingfang."

Shen Yuan froze.

"Ah. So you do know me."

"I've heard of you," Shen Yuan said, and shit, he'd said a lot of crap about this man's shixiong. Had Mu Qingfang been friendly with Shen Qingqiu? He couldn't remember. "You're the healer Peak Lord Mu of Cang Qiong."

But why was Mu Qingfang in the Huan Hua Palace? 

"And how about me?" called a familiar voice from the doorway. "You should recognize me. I'm your book's main character, after all."

Shen Yuan turned, and there he was. 

The mean doctor.

Luo Binghe.

Shen Yuan had seen too much fan art—and owned too much merch—of PIDW's protagonist to mistake him for anyone else. He was clearly post-blackening, his demon mark shining bright on his forehead, its red light the perfect complement to the black and red robes billowing around him as he strode into the room. He grinned, and Shen Yuan could see hints of sharp fangs in his smile.

Shen Yuan swallowed. "Lord Luo," he said, and Binghe's fangs had been kinda cool in the fan art, but holy shit were they threatening in real life. 

"It's Palace Master Luo," Luo Binghe said. "...For now."

Well, that gave him a timeline, at least. If Luo Binghe was the Huan Hua's Palace Master but not emperor, then the human cultivation sects were at least still partially standing (though Mu Qingfang's presence here meant that Cang Qiong was probably toast). He couldn't be more than five or so years post-Abyss, with a smaller harem that barely reached the triple digits, a new but formidable grip on the demon realms, and a rapidly vanishing pretense of humanity. Huan Hua had almost certainly realized he was part-demon by now—it'd be hard to miss if he was stomping around with glowing eyes—but the rest of the world probably still thought he was human. 

"Shen Yuan needs time to recover," Mu Qingfang said, shooting Luo Binghe a reproachful look. "If he's pushed too far right now, he may deviate again and lose even more of his memories."

"Yes, about those memories." Luo Binghe leaned closer, his eyes fixed on Shen Yuan's. "Do you remember who you are? Do you know why you're here?"

As Luo Binghe closed the distance between them, Shen Yuan struggled to keep his breathing level. Something in his gut recognized Luo Binghe as a predator and wanted to run. But this was the protagonist! Luo Binghe wouldn't hurt someone who didn't deserve it, and sure enough, Luo Binghe didn't do anything more than pat his shoulder. His hand lingered, his fingers tracing an invisible line right where Shen Yuan's arm met his torso. 

Something about it made Shen Yuan's hair stand on end, but it wasn't overtly threatening. The protagonist had never had many male friends, now that Shen Yuan thought about it. Surely it wasn't Luo Binghe's fault if his shoulder pats were a bit creepy. He just needed practice!

He tried to ignore the hand on his shoulder, and thought about who he might be.

No one had corrected him when he'd said his name was Shen Yuan. Since there was no Shen Yuan in the original book, there was no need to guess the identity of someone who already existed. He looked around; he was in the Huan Hua Palace, and he'd had a qi deviation, so…

"I'm a Huan Hua cultivator," he said.

Luo Binghe's smile widened. "Close."

Shen Yuan deflated a bit. He'd felt like that was a pretty solid deduction, all things considered. Though if Mu Qingfang was here, perhaps…

"Am I a Qian Cao Peak cultivator?" he asked, glancing at Mu Qingfang. Was Cang Qiong even still standing? It seemed unlikely.

"No, you—" Mu Qingfang started, then stopped, his mouth snapping shut.

Luo Binghe was shaking his head as well. "You're this Lord's personal disciple," he said.

"...I am?" 

Luo Binghe had never taken a disciple in the original story. Was it possible that, when Shen Yuan had transmigrated, he'd been given a new, pivotal character role? Did he and Luo Binghe go on adventures together? Were they bros?

The real question was: would this be one of those power fantasy transmigration stories where the transmigrated hero had OP powers right off the bat? It seemed likely. Shen Yuan had to be incredibly powerful if the Luo Binghe had taken him under his wing!

It was impossible to hide his excitement, which seemed to amuse Luo Binghe. "Does this news please you?" he asked.

"It does! I'm honored!" Shen Yuan said. Only…"Aren't I a little old to be a disciple?" He hadn't been able to look at himself in a mirror yet, but what he could see of his body suggested that he was an adult, not a teenager. 

"Yes. You should have moved on years ago," Luo Binghe said. He gave Shen Yuan a look that was equal parts pity and disappointment. "It's unfortunate. I wanted you to be Huan Hua's head disciple—I'd even hoped that you might take over as sect leader one day when I move on to grander things—but your cultivation never lived up to the promise it showed when you were younger."

Well. So much for the power fantasy.

Some of his disappointment must have shown on his face because Luo Binghe patted his shoulder again. "Don't worry—this Lord isn't a cruel Shizun. I would never throw you out on the streets just because of your ineptitude. You're provided with food and shelter, and in return you help out with menial chores and occasionally accompany me on hunts."

Doing menial chores didn't sound fantastic if he was being honest, but accompanying Luo Binghe on hunts? Even if he wasn't superpowered, he'd at least get a first-row seat to see Luo Binghe fight cool monsters!

"It was during one of these hunts that you were injured," Luo Binghe continued. "You tried to use your cultivation to bring down a Crimson Spider-Eel by yourself, but your qi rebounded—and really, you need to at least master the basics before trying something like that during a fight. The rebound caused a qi deviation, and you fell into the Spider-Eel's mud pit and almost drowned."

"Oh." 

"The Spider-Eel chewed on your limbs a bit before we were able to rescue you, I'm afraid, and then the high quantity of manure in the mud caused several life-threatening infections in the bite wounds. I wasn't sure even Mu Qingfang would be able to bring you back from that, but it seems that luck was on our side."

That…wasn't the most dignified way to end up injured. Couldn't he have hurt himself saving an orphan from a burning building or something? 

Despite having a failure of a disciple who'd almost killed himself attempting basic cultivation, Luo Binghe didn't seem upset. His smile was cheerful—almost inappropriately so for such a grim topic—and when Shen Yuan met his eyes, they were glittering with delight. Mu Qingfang, on the other hand, was openly glaring at Luo Binghe (and really, Mu Qingfang, if you want to live, you should be hugging those thighs!). When he turned towards Shen Yuan, he seemed concerned.

Maybe he was worried Shen Yuan would pull another stupid stunt and undo all of his hard work?

Shen Yuan did his best to bow respectfully to both of them despite still being in bed, laid back against his pillow. "It won't happen again. This disciple will do his best to improve his cultivation, and will defer to his elders on future hunts."

It was the right answer. Luo Binghe's face split into a full grin, and he grabbed Shen Yuan's arm and hauled him out of bed. "That's the spirit. Let's get you out of this sickbed and back to your normal room. Maybe your near-brush with death will motivate you, and you won't be so lazy with your studies from now on, hm?"

Had Shen Yuan been a slacker student? That…kind of tracked, actually. Academics had never been high on his list of priorities in his old life, and it seemed like some things hadn't changed.

"Yes, Shizun," he said.

Luo Binghe laughed. His high spirits were contagious, and Shen Yuan found himself smiling, too, as he followed him out of the room.

Mu Qingfang watched Shen Qingqiu patter out of the room after Luo Binghe, looking for all the world like a loyal puppy trotting after his master. As the door closed, the blood parasites that had been holding his jaw shut relaxed, and he cursed.

Mu Qingfang had stood in solidarity with the other Peak Lords in condemning Shen Qingqiu at his trial. The man had been a monster—he'd taken advantage of his female disciples, killed Liu Qingge, wiped out the entire Qiu estate, and done who knows what else while studying under the criminal Wu Yanzi. Cang Qiong was better off without him, no matter how much Yue Qingyuan pleaded otherwise. But at the end of the day, Mu Qingfang was a man of medicine. When the letter from the Huan Hua Palace had arrived saying that Shen Qingqiu had suffered a qi deviation while in prison and needed him urgently, the sect leader hadn't even had to ask before he was packing up his supplies and readying to depart.

He'd expected it to be a short trip. Shen Qingqiu would be in a prison, in chains and in poor spirits. He'd be in need of a specialized qi transfer that only Mu Qingfang could give him, and after that was complete, Mu Qingfang would depart again. 

But instead, Mu Qingfang had been led into a room with a pot. Inside the pot had been a stick of a person, mutilated and tortured and out of his mind.

Shen Qingqiu had been bad, but he hadn't deserved that. 

He didn't deserve this, either, whatever this was.

Mu Qingfang had stabilized his qi—for now, anyway—and then Luo Binghe had pieced his body back together, but the man's mind had clearly broken. The smile on his face when he'd left had been so sweet, so innocent, that it had sent chills down Mu Qingfang's spine. Had he ever seen his shixiong smile like that? Shen Qingqiu would sneer, would smirk, but smile? With no hint of mockery? 

Without his memories, Shen Qingqiu was practically a different person. He didn't remember committing any of his crimes, and yet, judging by the glee on Luo Binghe's face, he was going to continue paying for them. 

But what could Mu Qingfang do? 

As a doctor it would be irresponsible of him to abandon a patient who was in so much need. At least, that's what Luo Binghe forced him to write in his letter back to Yue Qingyuan explaining his continued absence. Mu Qingfang suspected he'd be forced to write many more such letters in the future. 

He doubted Luo Binghe was going to let him go anytime soon. 

Chapter Text

Shen Yuan's room was…not great. 

He hadn't thought the Huan Hua Palace even had rooms this dingy, honestly, but then again, he wasn't sure this was a proper room at all. It had a bed—in the form of a couple of threadbare blankets on the ground—and a pile of clothes on one of the shelves, but there were a lot of shelves. And they were full of cleaning supplies. It was almost as if—

"Is this a storage closet?" Shen Yuan asked incredulously.

Li Xiaowen, the Huan Hua disciple that Luo Binghe had put in charge of showing him the ropes, grinned at him. It wasn't a nice grin. "Shen Yuan spends so much of his time cleaning, we thought it would be more convenient for him this way!"

Was he being bullied? Shen Yuan frowned at Li Xiaowen, then at his room. It was tiny—barely large enough to fit him when he stepped inside. He had to duck his head to fit through the door, and the shelves took up so much of the space that he'd have to curl up when he slept. And were those mouse droppings on some of the shelves? 

He was definitely being bullied. 

"Does Palace Master Luo know my bedroom is a closet?" he asked. It made sense that he wouldn't be placed with the other disciples—he was far too old—and it wasn't like he'd expected luxury, but…okay, maybe he'd expected a little luxury. This was the Huan Hua Palace! Even the servants' quarters were gilded! And he was the personal disciple of Palace Master Luo! Even if he was a failure at cultivation, wasn't this a bit insulting towards their sect leader, if nothing else?

But Li Xiaowen's grin only widened at his words. 

"Palace Master Luo is a very busy man. He'd really, really hate to be bothered by something as trivial as room assignments," he said. "Do you remember what he's like when someone interrupts his important work with domestic nonsense?" Li Xiaowen gave an exaggerated shudder. "It's not pretty."

That, at least, Shen Yuan could believe. Luo Binghe had always hated it when his wives brought their harem drama to him, and he loved his wives! He'd surely be even more unhappy with being dragged into whatever was going on between Shen Yuan and the Huan Hua disciples, especially after he'd just had to rescue Shen Yuan from a dung pit.

Besides, how could Shen Yuan complain about his room when he knew that Binghe had been through so much worse?

"I'll leave you to get dressed," Li Xiaowen said. "When you're done, grab your broom and follow me."

The black and red disciple robes that were folded on the shelf reinforced Shen Yuan's decision not to run to Luo Binghe for help. They might be in Luo Binghe's colors, but they were scratchy and roughly cut—the robes of a servant, not a favored student.

Luo Binghe might have saved his life, but it was becoming increasingly clear that they were far from close.

That was fine. Shen Yuan could work with that. Having a more distant relationship meant it would be harder for him to be OOC. It would be like having a clean slate! The fancy robes the other disciples wore were probably a pain in the ass to put on, anyway—he wouldn't know what to do with them even if he had them. At least these robes were simple enough for him to figure out on his own.

He had to admit, though, as he scratched at the fabric, that it was very possible they were infested with fleas. 

Sweeping the corridors took most of the rest of the day. He'd been assigned the disciples' hallways, and it quickly became clear that no one was going to help him with his chore. At first, it seemed like the other servants and disciples were going to sit around and watch him do everything by himself. Then the onlookers got bolder, and he could only wish they'd go back to doing nothing.

"Sorry," said a maid, snickering, as she dropped a tray of food onto the floor he'd just cleaned. 

"Ah! My apologies," said a Huan Hua disciple, barely more than a child, as he bumped into Shen Yuan's trash container, spilling the debris he'd been collecting for the past few hours back onto the floor. The child was grinning as he took off at a run, his feet kicking the dust and dirt across the floor as he ran through it.

"You missed a spot," said Li Xiaowen as he wiped his muddy feet on the floor and then pointed to the footprints. "Make sure to do a thorough job. Palace Master Luo doesn't like slackers. I'd hate to report your bad behavior to him."

As shitty as it was, though, Shen Yuan couldn't help but be a bit excited to see Huan Hua in person. He'd read about these halls, about these people! The hallmaster that was glaring at him? Shen Yuan knew how he'd die! The harem member that was sneering at him as if he was dog shit that she'd accidentally stepped in? He knew…well, maybe a bit too many details about her, actually. He blushed and looked away, because really, how was he supposed to look her in the eyes after having read about her doing that?  

There were more than a few demons wandering around, though Shen Yuan noticed they seemed to keep to the inner sections of the palace, away from the merchants and visiting cultivators that filled the outer courtyards. That meant the realms hadn't been combined yet, but judging by how brazen Binghe was acting about his heritage, it couldn't be far off. 

Unsurprisingly, the demons that he encountered weren't any friendlier than the Huan Hua disciples, and seemed happy to join in on the "Fuck Over Shen Yuan's Attempts to Clean" game. But even the most diligent of saboteurs couldn't delay a simple floor sweeping forever. Eventually, all the dirt was swept (and only some of it under the rugs), and the floors were, if not sparkling, at least gently gleaming.

"Good work," said Li Xiaowen, seemingly unruffled by Shen Yuan's success. 

"Thanks." Shen Yuan gave him a light lipped smile. "Going by the light outside—or lack of it—I suppose it's dinner time. I must have worked through lunch by accident. Where's the dining hall?"

"Hm? Oh, no, you have a lot more to do before dinner! You're really running behind today. But don't worry!" He slapped Shen Yuan on the back, hard enough to send him stumbling. "I'll make sure to put a plate in your room for you."

Shen Yuan thought of the mouse droppings he'd seen, and had a pretty good idea what his dinner would look like by the time he got back to it. 

His next chore was to refill the water barrels. And then to chop wood. And then—infuriatingly—to clean the dishes from the other disciples' dinner.

It was closer to the morning than to evening by the time he staggered back to his closet. His limbs ached—not just muscle strain from the work, but bitter, bone-deep aches in his shoulders and hips. He collapsed onto the blankets on the floor (ignoring the plate of food which had, predictably, been covered in mice) and tried to get some sleep.

Despite his exhaustion, it didn't come easily. His growling stomach, the chill of the floor, and the skittering of his fuzzy roommates kept him tossing and turning.

It didn't help that, for the first time since he'd woken up, he had a chance to reflect on the fact that he'd died. This new world was incredible! And cool! But that didn't change the fact that his family was gone, his body was gone, and he didn't even know what he looked like now. 

If he was shaking a bit, then the cold was surely to blame. 

And if there were tears, too…well. 

The mice wouldn't tell.

The next day was not better.

Neither was the one after that.

The bullying had started off tame enough with pushing and shoving, but his lack of response only seemed to embolden the other disciples. They'd begun to leave bruises where they hit him—the contact being "accidental" was a pretense they were rapidly abandoning—and he was pretty sure he had a broken toe from when an older teen had stomped on his foot the previous day. 

But the worst part was the food—or lack thereof.

He'd been able to grab lunch once on the second day but had missed his other meals, and by now his hunger wasn't just a pain in his belly; it was a fog in his head and a dizziness whenever he moved too quickly. When he was given the chore of cleaning the dinner plates again, he almost cried with relief. It was meant to humiliate him, sure, but he could eat some of the leftover food from dishes before he washed them. 

He could hear the kitchen staff's whispering when he started stuffing the scraps into his mouth, and he could see their scornful looks, but food uneaten by another human was better than food spoiled by mice. 

"I heard you're scheduled for sword training with Palace Master Luo later this week," said Li Xiaowen as Shen Yuan left the kitchen. He and a few of the other Huan Hua disciples were resting at their dinner tables, playing some sort of dice game. There were coins and candies scattered around—stakes for betting, Shen Yuan guessed—and the older disciples were drinking wine. It looked fun. Friendly. Relaxing. 

Shen Yuan wanted to kill them, just a little bit.

"Am I?" he said, trying not to look too closely at the candies. He'd taken the edge off his hunger with the table scraps, but he was far from full.

"You are. Make sure to study your cultivation manual," Li Xiaowen said. "I'm sure you'd hate to disappoint Palace Master Luo."

"...Again," said another disciple, and the whole table snickered.

Shen Yuan hadn't been aware of the fact that he had a cultivation manual, but when he got back to his room, he was able to find it with minimal searching. It had been tucked into the side of the shelf that held his clothes, and when he pulled it out it looked disturbingly new, as if his previous self had hardly ever opened it.

He sat on his blanket and began to flip through it. It was difficult to read—partially because there was no light (he had to make do with what shone through the crack of his not-quite-closed door) and partially because it made absolutely no sense. He'd expected that cultivation would be a bit odd in this world, seeing as how Airplane had hand-waved away most of the important details, but this was completely incomprehensible. What did it even mean to, "Focus on the energy flowing through the colors in his mind"? 

Perhaps cultivation was one of those things that made more sense in practice than in theory. Shen Yuan straightened his back, crossed his legs, and focused on circulating his energy. The book had described the act as, "taking the inner fire of one's heart and pumping it upwards, forcing energy along the spine and towards the heavens." It was supposed to create a feeling of strength and peace, aid in healing, and increase his spiritual vein's ability to channel power.

It gave Shen Yuan a headache. 

He was mucking out the stables when Luo Binghe found him.

That day had been identical to the others that week, with Li Xiaowen waking him up and dragging him to do a few quick chores before breakfast. By the time he'd finished, breakfast was over, and he'd been handed a new impossibly-long list of chores to complete before lunch.

Had every day been like this for the original goods? He was starting to wonder if he hadn't thrown himself into that Spider-Eel pit on purpose, for the chance at a break if nothing else.

The pit certainly wouldn't have been much different from his normal environment. Huan Hua disciples kept passing by and slamming into him—sometimes assisted by a burst of qi—sending him sprawling into the muck and smashing into the stable walls.

The worst part (well, second worst, after falling face first into horse shit) was that many of the disciples that were bullying him were still kids. He wasn't going to get into a fight with a ten year old! Especially when there was a distressingly real possibility that he might lose!

And during all of it, his limbs wouldn't stop aching. Whenever he got dressed or washed, he saw the scars—thick, jagged ropes of tissue that marked where his arms and thighs met his torso. Even fancy cultivator healing couldn't completely erase the injuries he'd sustained in his accident, it seemed, and the damage was definitely more than cosmetic. A deep, grating ache radiated out from them the longer he moved, and he'd been moving all day. 

"Is Shen Yuan having difficulties?"

Shen Yuan spun to see Luo Binghe leaning his shoulder against the stable door, his arms crossed and his head cocked to the side. 

The fan art hadn't exaggerated how handsome Luo Binghe was. If anything, it hadn't done him justice. The light shining in from behind him framed his fluffy hair in a brilliant halo, and a breeze stirred his robes so that they fluttered elegantly around him, highlighting his powerful frame. 

If Shen Yuan had a camera right now, he could make a killing on prints. 

By contrast, Shen Yuan was covered in sweat and mud and…other substances. His stupidly long hair—which he hadn't entirely figured out how to handle yet—had partially slipped out of the rough ponytail he'd pulled it into, and strands of it were stuck to his face and flying off at strange angles. He was covered in bruises, too, and he had a black eye from where a Huan Hua disciple's elbow had accidentally connected with his face yesterday. 

Despite his disciple's rough appearance, Luo Binghe seemed to be in a good mood. When Shen Yuan rose from his hasty bow, Luo Binghe was grinning at him.

He did his best to smile back. "Good morning, Shizun. It's true that this one has encountered some…challenges," if being punked by the entirety of the Huan Hua dorms could be called that, "but I'm adjusting."

"I did hear that you've been dragging your feet," Luo Binghe said. He gave Shen Yuan an admonishing look. "Hopefully that's just a residual effect of your injuries, and not you slipping back into lazy habits, hm?"

Shen Yuan's smile faltered. The assholes that had been bullying him had also reported him for being too slow? He knew that Luo Binghe wouldn't want to be dragged into this, but did they honestly expect Shen Yuan not to stand up for himself if they involved Luo Binghe first? 

Still, he didn't want to look like he was whining, or like he was incapable of taking feedback. And he probably was slow compared to how he normally worked. There was undoubtedly lots of room for improvement! 

He took a deep breath. Luo Binghe had always valued honesty in his wives and allies. When in doubt, being straightforward was surely the best route. "This one apologizes, Shizun. I'll be faster next time. But…Shizun, are there any bad feelings between me and the Huan Hua disciples? They've been hostile, to the point of violence, and they've been sabotaging my chores—"

But Luo Binghe was already shaking his head. "Are you blaming others for your own failures again? I expected better of you, Shen Yuan."

The look he gave Shen Yuan was full of disappointment, and oh—Shen Yuan had never thought he'd hear the Luo Binghe, the best part of PIDW and the character that had gotten Shen Yuan through so many rough days, say that Shen Yuan wasn't living up to his expectations. 

He felt the breath go out of him. "Shizun…"

"I didn't come here to talk about your chores. Follow me," Luo Binghe said, and he turned to leave. "It's time for your combat training." 

He paused, then smiled over his shoulder. "And if you're telling the truth, and you really are getting pushed around by children, then maybe you need it now more than ever."

Despite everything, Shen Yuan had been a bit excited about learning to fight. How cool would it be to learn how to use a sword? And from Luo Binghe, no less?

After an hour, he was ready to go back to mucking out the stables.

"Again."

Shen Yuan pulled himself off the ground, wincing. He struggled back into the combat stance Binghe had shown him and raised his wooden practice sword, but it was no use; when Luo Binghe swung Xin Mo (sheathed, thankfully) at him, Shen Yuan wasn't able to slow it down, much less stop it. It slammed into his shoulder and he fell, just like he had the hundred times before.

"Again."

His whole body had to be one giant bruise by now. He hadn't learned anything, either, other than that getting hit a lot hurt, which he probably could have guessed without the practical demonstration. Was he doing something wrong? He stood back up and placed his feet even wider, trying to mimic the strong, immovable stance Luo Binghe had demoed briefly at the beginning of their session.

It didn't help. Xin Mo slammed into his stomach this time, throwing him back almost a full meter before he hit the ground.

"Again."

Shen Yuan was ready to cry. It didn't matter how he positioned his feet, or adjusted his grip on the sword—he wasn't strong enough to take Binghe's attacks head on.

There were other ways of fighting, though, weren't there? The wide stance felt so awkward, so wrong. He stood up again, but instead of mimicking Luo Binghe, he relaxed, letting his feet fall where they felt most natural.

He shifted a bit, and yes, this worked, this felt right. His feet were placed lightly on the ground, ready to twist him out of harm's way, and he let his sword fall lower than Luo Binghe's so that it could redirect instead of block.

Luo Binghe paused. His eyes narrowed as he took in Shen Yuan's new stance.

"What are you doing?" he said, frowning.

Shen Yuan swallowed. Binghe looked upset—not just irritated but actually angry, which was kind of scary—but honestly, he didn't have Binghe's body! Surely his fighting forms would need to be modified somewhat to account for that? "This one isn't strong enough to take attacks head on, so—"

"So you thought you'd dodge? You thought you'd run instead of fight?"

Until now, Luo Binghe had been swinging Xin Mo at a somewhat leisurely pace. Shen Yuan wouldn't describe it as easygoing, but it had definitely been geared towards being brutal for a beginner. Shen Yuan had been able to see the blows coming, he just hadn't been able to block them. But now Luo Binghe's eyes flashed red, and Xin Mo blurred, smashing into his shins before he registered that it had even moved.

Shen Yuan fell to the ground with a scream.

"Do you think you know better than this Lord?" Luo Binghe's asked, his eyes still blazing red.

"What? No! I just—"

"Then don't question my teachings. Get up."

The pain in Shen Yuan's legs was intense. Luo Binghe hadn't broken anything, but it had been close.  

He staggered to his feet, and the next blow was already coming. He wasn't strong enough to block it—but what cultivator was, without qi?

Not for the first time, he wished he'd woken up with some sort of System. He'd read enough transmigration novels and watched enough isekai to know he was owed one! He should have an interface with access to information on his abilities, with points and a store! But when he called out to a System in his mind (and once, quietly, out loud) there had been no response.

Without any tutorial modes, he was forced to do his best to follow his cultivation manual's instructions. He focused on pushing…something. 

In the quiet of his room, nothing had happened. In front of Luo Binghe, with Xin Mo swinging towards him and his adrenaline high and his heart in his throat, he pushed harder than before, and something responded.

It didn't want to be pushed along his spine. The strange, ethereal force—his qi, he supposed—seemed almost like a river running through him, but it thickened and stuck like mud as soon as he shoved at it. He shoved at it anyway. The text had said to, and Binghe was right there, watching, and he was so excited that he could actually feel his qi that he pushed it with everything he had.

The pain was instant, and extreme enough that Shen Yuan's back seized. He lurched backwards, falling before Xin Mo could even touch him.

As he started to cough up blood he heard Luo Binghe sigh. "We'll need to trouble Mu Qingfang again, it seems."

Qi deviations were a regular thing for Shen Yuan, apparently. Mu Qingfang took one look at him and cursed, and a moment later Shen Yuan found himself shoved into a bed with Mu Qingfang's hand on his wrist and a steady stream of cool qi sweeping through him.

Mu Qingfang's qi, he noticed, did not push along his spine. It didn't push at all. It moved with the natural currents of his body, gently nudging Shen Yuan's own errant streams of energy back into place and soothing his inflamed spiritual veins.

Shen Yuan was beginning to get a bad feeling about his cultivation manual. 

"What happened?" Mu Qingfang asked, as the sparks of pain that had been crackling along Shen Yuan's back began to ease. 

"Training accident," said Luo Binghe.

The glare that Mu Qingfang shot Luo Binghe seemed out of character. Hadn't the healer always been a calm, reserved man? Why did he look like he was about to go for Binghe's throat?

Though now that Shen Yuan thought about it, most of the descriptions of Mu Qingfang's personality had been from when Luo Binghe was a disciple. Mu Qingfang was probably living in Huan Hua becuase Cang Qiong had fallen, and seeing his home destroyed was bound to have left him a bit salty. Shen Yuan would probably feel the same in his position! But Mu Qingfang needed to get over it, and fast. The only way to survive in this world was to suck up to the person running it. 

Shen Yuan would demonstrate.

"It seems I still have a lot to learn. Luckily, I have Shizun to guide me," Shen Yuan said. Though he was probably going to have to find a new training manual to make any real progress if his suspicions about his current one were correct. 

Luo Binghe nodded at his words. Mu Qingfang only frowned harder.

It didn't take long for Mu Qingfang to finish healing him. It hadn't been a particularly bad qi deviation, and within the hour Shen Yuan's qi was calm and his pain was gone.

"You'll return to your work now that you've recovered," Luo Binghe said as Mu Qingfang released Shen Yuan's wrist. 

Shen Yuan felt like his back had been set on fire, and then that fire had been stomped out by a heavy pair of boots. Surely a few more minutes of rest wouldn't hurt? Some of his reluctance must have shown on his face because Binghe smiled.

"Even if you're tired, this is for your own good," Luo Binghe said. "I've discussed it with Mu Qingfang, and he thinks going through these familiar motions might help you recover your memory. As you work today, remind yourself that you've been doing these chores your entire life. Even if your mind doesn't remember sweeping, your muscles will, and that's an important step forward."

Mu Qingfang was visibly clenching his jaw, but after a tense moment, he nodded his agreement.

"He also suggested that I try reconstructing some of your buried memories. If I do so, you'll be able to relive them in your sleep. Perhaps that will help you remember," Binghe said.

Shen Yuan didn't gasp, fan-girl style (he was manlier than that), but he did inhale sharply with excitement. "You mean—"

"Make sure to go to bed on time." Luo Binghe's smile was sharp enough to cut glass. "Tonight, we're going to the dream realm."

As Luo Binghe watched his former Shizun limp from the exam room, he found his smile involuntarily widening into a toothy grin. 

Today's training session had been a thing of beauty: his former Shizun, the great and powerful Peak Lord, falling into the mud again and again as he fumbled desperately with a wooden sword. He'd been incompetent. Clumsy. Useless. Every insult he'd once called Binghe, he now embodied.  

And when he'd tried a cultivation technique from his fake manual? A fake manual identical to the one he'd given Binghe so many years ago? Luo Binghe had almost given the game away by bursting out into laughter on the spot. 

The only blight on their training had been when Shen Qingqiu had fallen into a Qing Jing sword stance. Some of his muscle memory remained, it seemed, even if he couldn't consciously recall it. Luckily, Luo Binghe had caught the slip and nipped it in the bud. If Shizun recalled too much, he might become dangerous—not to Luo Binghe, but to others in the Palace—and then Luo Binghe would have to end this game, and he didn't want to do that.

This was fun.

Mu Qingfang seemed to disagree, glaring at him as if Shen Qingqiu hadn't done the same to Luo Binghe. If anything, Luo Binghe had been the bigger person. He'd at least taken Shen Qingqiu to get medical help.

He waited until Shen Yuan was out of earshot, then released his blood parasite's hold on Mu Qingfang's mouth.

"Was that necessary?" Mu Qingfang asked, rubbing at his jaw irritably.  

"I couldn't have you disagreeing with your own diagnosis," Luo Binghe pointed out. "I wouldn't have to use the blood parasites if you'd just play along." 

"I was referring to Shen Qingqiu's sword training," Mu Qingfang said, the way he spit the words making it clear how little he thought of Luo Binghe's exercise. "If you can call it that. Those bruises were deep—you nearly broke bones—not to mention the qi deviation. What's the point? You're punishing him for something he has no memory of doing."

"He has some memory of it," Luo Binghe said. "Even if the deviation distorted his mind to the point that he imagines his own life as something he read about in a book, the basic events he lived through exist in his head."

"And you think you'll restore those events to him fully by using the dream realm?" Mu Qingfang looked skeptical, though whether of Luo Binghe's methods or his intentions, he couldn't be sure.

Luo Binghe could picture Shen Qingqiu's face when the memories did return: the horror at how low he'd sunk, to clean Luo Binghe's floors with a smile; the embarrassment at the awe and reverence, bordering on hero-worship, that he'd shown to his most-hated disciple; the shame at his own weakness, at how even the lowest of the Huan Hua disciples and servents had looked down on the once-great Peak Lord and laughed. 

It would be a thing of beauty to witness, and Luo Binghe would make sure it came to pass.

Eventually.

"I'll bring some of his memories back," Luo Binghe said. Not enough to make him a threat or to spoil the game too quickly, but Luo Binghe was a master of the dream realm—it would be child's play for him to pluck out a memory that Shen Qingqiu regarded as shameful, and then force him to relive it with Luo Binghe as a witness.

And maybe, if Luo Binghe was lucky, he'd learn more about what made his strange, horrible Shizun the way he was. As Shen Yuan, Shen Qingqiu had said that he'd just been jealous of Binghe, but there had to be more to it than that. Why had he been cruel to Luo Binghe, but not to the other students that showed potential? Why had he become so kind after losing his memories?

Luo Binghe wanted revenge, but he wanted answers, too. Tonight, he had a feeling he was going to get a little bit of both.

Chapter Text

Luo Binghe had always felt at home in the dream realm. He had power in all realms, of course, but in dreams his influence was the most direct. If he wanted the sky to be green, or the rain to fall upward, it would. If he wanted to take a horrible moment from a man's past and turn it into a nightmarish reality, there was nothing that could stop him. He'd done so in the past, many times, and it had been easy.

This time, though…

This time was strange. Shen Qingqiu's waking mind and his past memories were divided by a deep chasm in a way Luo Binghe had never seen before. It was as if he was looking at two completely separate minds—an older one that ended at the qi deviation, and a newer one that started there. 

It seemed the damage to Shizun's mind was far more extensive than either he or Mu Qingfang had realized.

Still, the old memories were there. It took some time and effort to bridge that gap, but once Luo Binghe was done plucking at the threads of Shen Qingqiu's mind, he'd built a thin but steady connection between the two halves of Shizun's self. The connecting thread was thick enough for Binghe to get to the memories he was looking for, but thin enough that nothing more than a few stray emotions would be able to leak through into "Shen Yuan" without Binghe's assistance.

Theoretically, anyways. This was uncharted territory. 

He'd have to keep an extra close eye on Shen Qingqiu going forward, just in case.

After the connection was established, it was only a moment's work to find a suitably dark memory—one that reeked of despair and was coated in an oily film of shame—and pluck it from Shen Qingqiu's mind. He channeled his power into it, feeding it, letting it grow, and as its dream tendrils unfurled, the world shaped itself into the courtyard of an expensive manor. There were dozens of bustling servants, a beautiful garden, and a stable full of horses—exactly the sort of luxury Luo Binghe had imagined the snobbish Peak Lord growing up in. 

When Shen Qingqiu materialized, he looked around at the manor and smiled.

He'd smiled a few times since waking up as Shen Yuan, and it made Luo Binghe pause every time. The look should have been unnatural on such a cruel face, but instead it seemed to soften his features into something that could almost be called kind, if one didn't know the monster that hid behind it all.

"Does this place bring back happy memories?" Luo Binghe asked. 

Shen Yuan startled, seeming to notice Luo Binghe for the first time. "What? Oh, no—it's not familiar. Sorry, Shizun."

"You're in such good spirits, though. Perhaps your sleeping mind remembers it and associates it with good things, even if your waking mind does not."

Shen Qingqiu shrugged, a casual motion that was the antithesis of the refined, dignified man he'd been. "Maybe. Mostly I'm just excited to be here. I've read—I mean, heard—a lot about your dream realm."

It was a ridiculous idea. Any righteous cultivator would be horrified to find themselves ensnared in demonic qi, at the mercy of the type of creature they'd sworn to eliminate. But Shen Qingqiu seemed genuine. His eyes sparkled as he peered at the dream constructs that walked around them, even the unknown persons with smooth, blank faces (the appearance of whom tended to unsettle even the calmest of cultivators).

Luo Binghe didn't want the dream constructs to be able to see them, and so they couldn't; he didn't want the dream constructs to run into them, and so they didn't. The crowded courtyard unconsciously moved to make room for them as they walked, and as a laundry woman passed Shen Qingqiu, he waved his hand in front of her face. She paused, her eyes unseeing, waiting until he moved his hand to continue on her way.

"So cool," Shen Qingqiu whispered, almost quietly enough for Luo Binghe to miss. 

It wasn't hard to follow the tug of Shen Qingqiu's memory. The despair in it was strong, wafting through the dream realm like blood through water. Luo Binghe steered them towards the source, expecting to be led into the mansion to a childhood room or a study (and wouldn't it be delicious if his scholarly Shizun had been a bad student, and this memory was him being berated by a tutor for his failures?). But as they got close to the front doors, the trail veered to the side, leading them around to the back of the house, to a woodshed.

There was laughter coming from it. Beside him, Shen Qingqiu slowed, his footsteps dragging as they got closer to the shed. Perhaps he'd gotten in trouble for harming whoever it was that he had trapped in there. Even better, perhaps that person had fought back, and landed a blow.

"Do you remember this?" Luo Binghe asked.

Shen Qingqiu shook his head, but he looked troubled.

Good. That was probably the thread of connection between his two selves coming into play, giving him an emotional preview of whatever humiliation was about to happen. Luo Binghe grabbed his arm and steered him firmly towards the door. "I sense that your former self is in there. Let's take a look."

Opening the door to see a beating in progress was not a surprise. 

Seeing Shen Qingqiu as the victim was.

He was small—impossibly so, and as Luo Binghe looked down at him, he realized that he'd never really been able to picture his imposing Shizun as a child. But there he was, frail and far too bony, stripped down to his pants, with fresh marks blooming under the rise and fall of the bamboo switch. There were older marks, too, and scars from wounds long since healed.

The servants that were surrounding him were teens—hardly more than children themselves—but Luo Binghe knew from experience how big they would look to child-Qingqiu's eyes.

"You should be grateful," said the servant holding a bloody switch. He was smiling as he said it. They were all smiling. "Normally if a slave disrespected the Young Master like that, they'd have their tongue cut out. I think you should thank us for being so lenient with your punishment."

"Yeah," echoed another. "Say, 'thank you.'"

The boy on the floor only glared in response.

His clothes, Luo Binghe noticed, were incongruously nice. The cloth and stitching on his pants and discarded robes were more that of a master than a slave—a sure mark of favor—but the more Binghe looked around, the more it became clear that this shed was Shen Qingqiu's room. Why would a favored slave be exiled to the shed? It wasn't a new situation, either, judging by how lived-in the space looked.

The extra clothes folded in neat piles on the floor were also finely made. Looking down at the state of the child they belonged to, Luo Binghe couldn't help but think of a doll, lovingly dressed up, played with, and then discarded when playtime was over.

It didn't make sense. 

How could the famously elitist Shen Qingqiu—who everyone knew was a spoiled noble—be a slave? If someone had told Luo Binghe a tale this ridiculous, he'd have laughed them out of his palace (and maybe stabbed them a bit first for wasting his time), but he was looking right at it.

"I said, say, 'thank you!'" the servant holding the switch shouted.

The boy said nothing, and his silence seemed to anger the servants. The next lash came down hard enough to drag a shocked hiss through child-Qingqiu's teeth. 

"I don't remember this." The adult Shen Qingqiu was pale-faced as he watched the blows begin to come down harder and faster. His eyes darted around the shed, surely taking in the same damning details that Luo Binghe had seen. "Let's try another memory."

Luo Binghe gave the child on the ground one last look. It should have been satisfying to see Shen Qingqiu brought so low. He'd done far worse things to Binghe, after all. He deserved it.

Only that was backwards, wasn't it? This had come first. This wasn't witnessing a justified revenge—it was watching a helpless child being beaten.

Binghe had seen enough of that for a lifetime. He waved his hand, and the scene changed.

The next memory was in a kitchen.

Child-Qingqiu was sweeping, but despite the manual labor, he was dressed in the same manner of expensive robes as in the first memory. It set him apart, and it hadn't seemed to have earned him any friends. As the other servants passed him, they jostled him and kicked dirt into his path, and when he'd finished and went to collect his lunch, he was served a pitiful bowl of congee that wouldn't have fed a child half his size.

The boy glared at the cook, but his hatred only seemed to amuse the man.

"Is something wrong?" the cook asked, laughing. "If the Young Master's favorite lap dog is still hungry, I'm sure you can beg him for some treats."

Child-Qingqiu flushed a deep red, and for a moment Luo Binghe thought he might launch himself at the cook right then and there and claw the man's eyes out, but an older woman stepped in and put a hand on his shoulder.

"That's enough," she said.

The cook frowned at her. "You're taking his side? Again? Look at him, wearing silk like he's some kind of lord—like he's better than us—when he's just a slave! Barely more than a beast! If it wasn't for the Young Master's favor—"

"The Young Master's favor isn't something to be jealous of," the woman snapped. She handed child-Qingqiu her half-finished bowl, and said, gruffly, "I'm full. Finish it or throw it out, it's up to you."

The boy didn't hesitate, devouring both it and his own pitiful serving at a frankly frightening pace. 

Luo Binghe waved his hand and the scene changed again.

This time, child-Qingqiu was staggering under the weight of a trunk that he was trying to carry to a carriage. As he stumbled, the other servants sat and watched, laughing.

Luo Binghe snarled as he gestured again, looking for something—anything—different from this all-too-familiar misery. And when the dream realm re-materialized, it seemed like he'd found it: this time they were in a beautiful study lined with expensive books, just like he'd expected to find when he'd first entered the dream, and child-Qingqiu was at the desk practicing his writing. 

His handwriting was unsteady and awkward. Even from a distance, Luo Binghe could tell the characters were crude and riddled with mistakes.

How many times had Luo Binghe been beaten for writing characters that were worlds better than the ones his Shizun had apparently struggled to make at a similar age? Part of him wanted to shout for joy that he'd exposed Shen Qingqiu for the fraud that he was. And yet, as the study door opened and a new figure entered, and he watched child-Qingqiu's shoulders tense, his victory felt hollow.

"You've almost got it," said the new figure—the Young Master, judging by his age and clothes. "Let me help you."

He looked pleasant enough—a warm smile and clear eyes, with a somewhat handsome face—but the way child-Qingqiu was reacting to him wasn't right. He wasn't saying anything, but his body language was full of fear in a way it hadn't been before, even during the beating.

Beside him, the adult Shen Qingqiu shivered. "Shizun, we should go," he said.

The Young Master was behind child-Qingqiu now, his hand wrapped around the boy's hand where he was holding the brush. He guided the brush confidently through the characters, and as he did so, the other hand came to rest on the boy's back. As the page filled, the hand began to drift lower, and child-Qingqiu's eyes took on a glassy, unfocused look.

Distantly he felt the adult Shen Qingqiu pulling on his sleeve, saying something further in an attempt to get his attention, but his eyes felt glued to the scene unfolding in front of him.

It was horrible.

Shen Qingqiu was horrible, too. Horrible people deserved horrible things, but as Luo Binghe watched the Young Master's hand continue to wander, he felt more tired than triumphant.

His Shizun had spared him this, at least. 

"Luo Binghe!" Shen Qingqiu snapped, his voice harsh and full of anger (or was it fear?). Luo Binghe jolted, and for a moment he was back on Qing Jing Peak, his Shizun's face flushed with rage—panic—as he grabbed Binghe's arm and yanked him out of his daze. 

With his eyes blazing and his mouth pressed into a thin, unhappy line, it was as if the old Shen Qingqiu was back, but when he spoke again his voice was soft.

"Let's go," he said. "Please."

Luo Binghe glanced back at the desk, then looked away. He'd wanted answers, and he'd gotten them.

He let the dream fade.

Shen Yuan woke with a start, his stomach twisting and his chest tight as he stared at the ceiling of his closet. 

Alright. 

So. 

The original goods had a shitty backstory. A really, really shitty backstory. That was pretty common for this world! Those weren't Shen Yuan's memories! They couldn't hurt him!

He was only shaking because he'd seen a child getting hurt. Who wouldn't be upset at seeing that? 

For a moment, he contemplated trying to go back to sleep. He had a lot of work to do in the morning, after all. He needed his rest! But as soon as he closed his eyes, he could see the shed again, only this time it was from the eyes of his dream self, as if he'd been there—as if he'd actually lived it. 

He could see the other servants towering over him as they pushed him to the ground, could feel the pain as the switch came down on his back. He opened his eyes, panicked, but the shed was still there. It had always been dark in the shed at night, hadn't it? He felt suddenly sure that it had been, and that its cramped darkness was indistinguishable from the one he was currently in.

For a second, the two spaces were so similar that he couldn't be sure that he wasn't in the shed right now.  

He was up and out of the room before he consciously realized he was moving. And once he was out, he kept going, walking through the corridors aimlessly as he waited for his heart to stop pounding and his hands to stop shaking.

Or maybe, he realized, when he looked up and saw the iconic golden Binghe statue (courtesy of Wife 139), his wandering wasn't entirely aimless. He knew Huan Hua's layout—he'd paid extra for the downloadable map and illustrations—and so he knew where Luo Binghe slept. His feet, without consulting his mind, seemed to be taking him there.

As soon as he realized where he was headed, he stopped. Binghe was probably asleep. Even if he wasn't, what was Shen Yuan supposed to say to him? That after hundreds of thousands of words of drivel, Shen Yuan had subconsciously begun to associate Binghe with comfort, and so had sought him out? Not that he'd be able to get in to see Binghe, regardless. Up ahead lay the inner court and harem, the most protected and forbidden area of the palace. Only harem members and Luo Binghe himself were allowed to enter.

Before he had the chance to head back—though back to where, he wasn't sure, because he wasn't going back into that room—he heard footsteps, and then Luo Binghe rounded the corner. 

Their eyes met, and Luo Binghe stopped dead in his tracks. He gave Shen Yuan a startled once-over, and ah—Shen Yuan had forgotten to put on his outer robes when he'd fled his closet, hadn't he? He probably looks like a bit of a mess judging by the shock that briefly crossed Binghe's face before he smoothed it into an expression of neutral concern.

"Shen Yuan, your shoes…"

He'd forgotten those too, apparently. But what did it matter?

"It's not like my feet will get dirty," he pointed out. "I cleaned the floors myself."

"It's not appropriate for you to be out like this. You should head back to your room." Binghe was frowning at him now, but the expression lacked some of the bite it usually had. It wasn't soft, exactly, but it seemed conflicted. 

Shen Yuan knew his lack of robes was a bit immodest, but immodesty was rife in Binghe's court. Sha Hualing's entire wardrobe probably contained less cloth than what he was wearing right now. "I was just taking a walk to clear my head," he said. "I'll head back soon."

"You're not worried about someone seeing you like this?"

Shen Yuan shrugged. His go-to's in his previous life had been a t-shirt and shorts. Compared to that, his inner robe was practically stifling. He wouldn't feel any embarrassment if someone saw him. 

As for other people's opinions...

"What, do you think they'll think less of me if they do? Is that even possible?"

Luo Binghe's frown deepened.

They were silent for a moment. Shen Yuan contemplated the gold statue in front of him. It was horribly tacky. Shen Yuan had known it would be, because he'd bought a miniature version of it for his desk. He was familiar with the exaggerated smirk and over-the-top pose (sword held aloft in triumph, one hand on his hip, adoring wife clinging to his leg), but the contrast with the real Binghe (tired, shadowed eyes, with a troubled expression on his face) was startling. 

"I was coming to find you," Luo Binghe said. He hesitated. "Your childhood..."

"It's why you took me on as a disciple, isn't it?" Shen Yuan said. It hadn't clicked until now, but as he was looking at Binghe and remembering the dream, it couldn't be more obvious. "You must have visited that family for some reason and seen how they were treating me, seen how I was living in that shed and being beaten and…everything else. I reminded you of yourself, didn't I?" It would certainly explain why his cultivation was so underdeveloped. He hadn't wasted his potential—he simply hadn't had any to begin with.

Binghe's eyes widened at his words, and then his face flushed, furious. Oh, he hadn't liked that comparison at all. "You think you remind me of myself? You think that I'm like you?"

Well. He didn't have to say it like that. Shen Yuan swallowed nervously. "Not in terms of power, of course! But you came from humble origins and were treated poorly because of that as a kid—put in a shed, beaten, and starved, that sort of thing. Isn't that what we just saw?"

"...It was," Binghe said reluctantly. If he'd looked tired at the beginning of the conversation, he looked positively exhausted now, the shadows under his eyes deepening as he bowed his head, seemingly deep in thought. 

Shen Yuan belatedly realized that if the memories had been uncomfortable for him, who'd had a loving and pampered childhood, then they must have been agonizing for poor Binghe. Did he need comforting? Because Shen Yuan was absolutely not the right person for that. 

"Ah, it's late, isn't it? I'll head back to my room, now," he lied, and hurried back the way he came. 

He wasn't actually going back to his room—at least, not for more than a moment. He wasn't going to live in a shed again, even if this time the shed was a closet. He stopped there long enough to collect his handful of belongings and then headed to the palace wing that housed the guest quarters. It didn't take long to find a decently sized set of rooms that was lavish enough to be comfortable, but out of the way enough to be easily overlooked. 

He wouldn't be able to squat there unnoticed forever, but he didn't plan to. Shen Yuan knew this world—better than the other readers, better than the inhabitants, and better than Airplane himself. If anyone could pull the right strings to create a nicer life for himself, or could steer the plot in a better direction, it was him. 

Up until now, he'd been trying to be good, to be nice, to play the part of the character he'd transmigrated into. But if those memories had shown him anything, it was that his situation wasn't fair and never had been. Playing by the rules clearly hadn't gotten the original goods very far in life. Had he ever even had a proper bedroom? Or had the original Shen Yuan been doing chores and sleeping in storage closets and woodsheds for his whole, sad life?

It was time for a new approach.

Chapter Text

Up until now, Shen Yuan had woken in the dark to Li Xiaowen banging on the door, ready to drag him to his early morning chores. He'd never been a morning person, and that particular brand of wake up had been disorienting and stressful in a way that he'd never had to contend with in his previous, pampered life.

This time, the sunrise woke him. He spent a solid five minutes savoring the warm sunlight, comfortable bed, and clean air before he got up and headed out (and Li Xiaowen's shocked face a few minutes later when he found Shen Yuan already up and at work was almost as satisfying as the room itself had been).

Yesterday when Luo Binghe had urged him to try embracing past memories in order to speed up his chores, Shen Yuan had been skeptical. There was no denying that the dream last night had resonated with him, though. He'd felt something, some sort of echo, of what he'd seen play out in front of him. And so, as he moved the broom, he let his mind relax. He tried to let his body lead the way, to trust his movements, to really believe that this was something that he'd done before. 

He didn't expect results. He partially did it because he was bored—there were a lot of floors to sweep, and no podcasts to listen to—and so that he could honestly say he'd given it his best shot if he was asked about it later. But as his mind grew quiet and calm, and his body continued to move, he found a sort of rhythm. 

It wasn't just him becoming more proficient at cleaning; his body knew these motions. Something in his muscles, in his bones, remembered cleaning.

As transmigration powers went, the ability to do chores slightly faster than normal wasn't what he'd have hoped for, but he'd take it. Other disciples still kicked dirt into his path, but he was more efficient now, his early start and newly discovered muscle memory giving him the edge he needed to finish well ahead of schedule.

He was fast enough that breakfast wasn't completely over. If he wanted, he could join the other students for a meal, and while the prospect of eating with Li Xiaowen and his cronies wasn't appealing, eating was. His stomach grumbled.

He ignored it. If he wanted to stay in his new room, then he had work to do.

The Huan Hua Palace's steward was a busy, important man. His office was crowded with paperwork and a steady stream of servants filing in and out, delivering requisitions and supplies, and collecting instructions for the day. Despite the hectic bustle, however, Shen Yuan's arrival didn't go unnoticed. As soon as he entered the room, everyone went quiet and still. 

"What do you want?" the steward asked sharply, giving Shen Yuan a nervous, irritated once-over. 

The steward looked tired—more so than just a stressful job would account for. His face was haggard and lined, and there was a gnarled scar on his neck that made Shen Yuan do a little internal victory dance. The scar's presence meant that he wasn't too early for this particular subplot. 

The fact that the steward was still alive meant that he wasn't too late, either.

He gave the man his friendliest smile and a deep salute. "This humble one is—"

"I know who you are," the steward said. 

It wasn't surprising that Luo Binghe's personal disciple was a known entity. "Of course. I'm sorry to interrupt, but while I was sweeping, I couldn't help but overhear some nearby servants talking about a Huan Hua maid who'd fallen ill." Shen Yuan paused meaningfully. When the steward didn't immediately react, he continued, "If I heard correctly, the woman in question was your daughter."

The change in the room was instant.

"Who would gossip about Chen Li in front of him?" one maid hissed.

The man next to her nodded. "He should be killed, bringing her up in front of her father like that. How cruel!"

The irritation on the steward's face was gone, replaced by shock, then fury, then fear, then fury again, all in the span of a heartbeat. He jumped to his feet, sending his chair clattering backward. "How dare—"

"I know how to cure her," Shen Yuan said.

The steward stared at him. Disbelief was clear on his face—but so was hope.

The steward's daughter was a renowned beauty, and thus a future wife of Luo Binghe. Her breathtakingly pure and innocent face (combined with other…generous assets) had made her a fan favorite, but it was her backstory that had drawn in Shen Yuan. 

It had started when she'd met a beautiful woman while out drinking, and, after spending a pleasant evening chatting with her, had enjoyed an even more pleasant night upstairs with her in the inn's private rooms. This mysterious woman was no ordinary beauty, however: she was the princess of a neighboring demonic kingdom who'd snuck off to the human realm to sow her wild oats. When the princess' father found out about her affairs, he'd set out to punish all who'd dared to touch her. His daughter was now ruined for marriage (he'd claimed) and would suffer life alone—so wasn't it only fair that her partners share her fate?

The ancient artifact he'd used to get his revenge on Chen Li had been both incredibly interesting and criminally underused. It had allowed the demon lord to bestow a curse: that Chen Li would be driven into a murderous rage by the sight, sound, or touch of another person. And because curse breaking wasn't uncommon in this world, it had a caveat: that neither she nor her family (in this case, the widowed steward) could tell anyone of the curse without guaranteeing their own death. 

The demon lord had barely finished uttering the curse when Chen Li had attacked her own father, attempting to tear out his throat with her teeth and clawing at his eyes with her nails. He'd managed to fight her off and lock her in a room, and that's where she'd remained ever since, with the windows shuttered and her ears stuffed with cloth.

In the original story, the steward would search for a solution on his own for years before eventually forfeiting his life to ask for Luo Binghe's assistance. Luo Binghe would grant it, and, through a series of exchanged letters, would explain his plan to the daughter. 

The solution? Shen Yuan had hoped Binghe would make use of the curse-breaking orchid that had been introduced a few hundred chapters back…but this was PIDW. Dual cultivation with a heavenly demon would do the trick, too. The steward's daughter, charmed by the protagonist through his letters and desperate to see her father again before he passed, had eagerly agreed.

The following chapter had been fanservice-y even by Airplane's standards. 

There'd been a lot of bondage and feral, furious sex, and it had been trashy and terrible and easy to dismiss right up until the infuriatingly touching moment where the daughter, cured, was able to see her father in time to say one last goodbye. He'd died smiling, knowing that his daughter would be well taken care of as a wife to the Emperor.

"Chen Li can be cured?" one of the younger maids asked, her eyes wide as she turned to the steward. "Her mind has been sick for so long. If there's any chance he's telling the truth—"

"He's not." The steward glared at Shen Yuan, the hope on his face warring with resignation. "How could he? He's no healer, and even if he was, he's never met her."

"The symptoms I overheard described are in line with a demonic curse," Shen Yuan said, and watched as the steward staggered. 

"Everyone out," he said hoarsely. Then, when the room had reluctantly cleared, "How? How did you—"

"Don't speak," Shen Yuan said quickly. "These things can be touchy. Let me do the talking, and nod or shake your head as I describe the details. I once read a description of an ancient necklace, made of metal forged in the fires of an Abyssal volcano and inset with a ruby-snake's third eye…"

As he described the artifact the demon lord had used, the steward nodded his head frantically, tears streaming down his face. "Don't worry," Shen Yuan said, giving him a reassuring smile. "There's an orchid nearby that can help. I can fetch it tonight, and when your daughter inhales its pollen, she'll be cured."

"I'd owe you everything," the steward said, sobbing. "I'll give you anything. How can I help? What do you need?"

"A fast horse and warm cloak," Shen Yuan said. "And later, after your daughter is healthy and happy, maybe we can talk about room assignments, hm?"

The rest of the day passed much like the days before it had, with a seemingly endless series of chores and a session of sword training with Luo Binghe. Luo Binghe threw him around just as he had previously, but unless Shen Yuan was imagining things, his heart didn't seem to be in it. 

Still, Shen Yuan was tired and sore, and it was well past nightfall by the time he was able to call his day's work done. The steward was waiting for him at the stables, and for someone who was doing something completely above board, he sure was acting shifty.

"You should go quickly," he said, glancing over his shoulder. "I'll see you through the gates, then you'll be on your own."

"What's the rush? I'm allowed to come and go as I please," Shen Yuan pointed out. He hadn't had a chance to, what with all his chores, but at the end of the day he was still the Sect Leader's personal disciple, even if he was unfavored. It wasn't as if he was confined to the Palace.

The steward didn't answer, only ushering Shen Yuan forward anxiously.

And then helping Shen Yuan mount a horse. 

And then frantically showing Shen Yuan how to steer a horse.

"You've never ridden before?" the steward asked incredulously, his face pale. He kept looking around as if expecting someone to jump out and arrest them at any moment.

"I'm sure I'll get the hang of it," Shen Yuan said. The steward looked like he was about to faint. "What? I'm just picking a flower. I don't need to be a master horseman." And the Huan Hua horses were famously well trained—at least, the non-demonic ones were. 

The steward did not look reassured, but as they approached the guards at the exit, he straightened his back, lifted his chin, and said, "Stand aside. He's leaving on official business," in a commanding voice that barely shook at all. The guards glanced at each other uncertainly, but as the steward pressed forward, they stepped back, reluctantly allowing Shen Yuan through. 

…Shen Yuan was allowed to leave the Palace, right?

Either way, it was too late to back out now. He nodded at the steward in thanks, then headed out into the night.

It wasn't a long journey to the orchid—a few hours at most, just to the top of a nearby cliff. Horses were a lot bumpier than he'd imagined, though, and after only a few minutes his ass was aching. The bruises that he'd gained that day from sword practice were practically throbbing with every thudding step. 

Would he even be able to walk tomorrow? Forget sparring with Binghe—he'd probably just fall over if he tried to make a sword stance after this!

It was worth it, though, when he saw it: the Purifying Century Orchid, alone at the edge of the cliff and glowing a gentle silver in the moonlight. Small motes of energy danced around it, and when Shen Yuan approached, the motes gravitated towards him, briefly settling on his hands and face before being absorbed into his skin. He could feel when they reached his spiritual veins, their purifying qi sweeping through him like a cool, refreshing breeze.

It was so beautiful that he felt a bit sacrilegious when he plucked it. He comforted himself with the knowledge that given a hundred or so years, it would grow back; that was practically a blink of an eye for a cultivator like Binghe.

"You came all this way for…a flower?"

Shen Yuan didn't scream, because that would have been embarrassing, but he did let out a (very manly) shout of surprise at the sudden voice. He whipped around. 

Directly behind him, arms crossed and glowering threateningly, was Luo Binghe. 

Shen Yuan had no reason to be scared. He really didn't! And if he continued to tell himself that, maybe his heartbeat would get the message and calm down! Sure, Luo Binghe was a demanding teacher, and his attitude towards Shen Yuan had been harsh, bordering on neglectful, but at the end of the day he wasn't the sort of person to be needlessly cruel to those who hadn't wronged him. 

But when Luo Binghe's red eyes flicked up from the flower to stare at Shen Yuan, he found himself breaking out into a cold sweat, his fingers spasming nervously and almost crushing the orchid. The tenuous connection that had told him something bad was in the shed, and had helped him sweep, was now screaming that he was in danger. 

"Shen Yuan must be feeling bored, to travel so far just to pick a flower," Luo Binghe said. His voice was pleasant, but there was something intense in his expression that made Shen Yuan's hair stand on end. "Should I have a word with disciple Li about your workload? I wouldn't want Shen Yuan to be overly idle." 

"What? No—please no, I would actually die. This isn't just any flower: it breaks curses! See?" Shen Yuan held it out for Luo Binghe to inspect. "It's for one of the maids." 

Luo Binghe frowned suspiciously at it, and after a moment Shen Yuan felt Binghe's qi brush against his hand as he tested the flower for…what, exactly? Poison? Hidden thorns? A curse? When he did reach out to take it, he did so gingerly, as if expecting the flower to be some sort of trap.

How bad had their pre-transmigration relationship been?

Luo Binghe's frown only deepened as he examined the flower. "For one of the maids, you say?"

"Yes, for the steward's daughter. This flower is one of the only things that can heal her." Other than Luo Binghe himself, of course, but hopefully he wouldn't insist on going that route. Shen Yuan needed to be the one to deliver the cure if he wanted to win over the steward. 

"Is that so?" Luo Binghe said, and then he smiled, which should have been less threatening than his frown, but somehow wasn't. "Shen Yuan is such a kind person, to travel so far to save someone he hardly knows." He handed the flower back, and pulled out Xin Mo. "Very well, then. If Shen Yuan is so determined to be helpful, then who am I to stand in his way? Let's go to the steward now."

The steward almost fainted when Luo Binghe, Shen Yuan, and a horse emerged from Xin Mo's portal in front of him. He fell to his knees, crying and begging forgiveness (forgiveness for what, exactly, Shen Yuan wasn't sure), and only Luo Binghe's sharp command got him to rise to his feet again and lead them to the suite in the servant's quarters that he shared with his daughter. 

"We should be quiet; just the sound of our voices could hurt her," the steward whispered as he motioned them inside his home and guided them towards his daughter's room. "I'll slip a letter under her door explaining the situation. When she replies, we'll know we can enter safely." He wrote a few characters on a sheet of paper—Shen Yuan was close enough to read "Found cure, close eyes"—and then knocked hard on the door three times. 

From behind the door there was a rustle of fabric, then footsteps, and then a soft exclamation.

"You can come in, now. My eyes are closed," called a sweet voice from the room after a moment. 

Chen Li had been described as an extraordinary beauty—one whose looks had invited more than a little jealousy when she'd entered the harem—and when the steward opened her door, Shen Yuan could see why. Even with her eyes scrunched closed and her ears stuffed with fabric, she had the appearance of a goddess. Her face was so sweet and clear that it could have been sculpted from the purest jade, and the curves of her figure were visible even beneath the shapeless sleeping robe she was in. At the sight of her, Luo Binghe's eyes narrowed, and the look he shot Shen Yuan was full of suspicion.

Shen Yuan did his best to look innocent of any indecent thoughts, which he was! But the best way to convince Luo Binghe of his good intentions would be to prove them. 

He walked towards Chen Li, then carefully held the orchid beneath her nose.

She startled as the flower brushed her skin. And perhaps Shen Yuan should have asked the steward to slow down, take a deep breath, and explain the cure to her in more detail in his note, because at the sudden contact she jerked back, her eyes flicking open on instinct.

The mistake only lasted for a fraction of a second, but that was long enough. At the sight of Shen Yuan, her face contorted. Demonic qi poured out of her, enveloping her, and her eyes glowed a sickly white as she screeched in rage and lunged at him. 

She was fast—unnaturally so—but Luo Binghe was faster. Before she could so much as scratch Shen Yuan, Binghe had her wrapped in his arms, furious but immobilized.

She snarled and bit down on Luo Binghe bicep. 

"Please forgive her!" the steward all but wailed as blood welled up around Chen Li's mouth.

"Don't worry," Luo Binghe said. "This one is merciful. I won't punish your daughter for actions that are out of her control."

If Shen Yuan was remembering this wife's marriage night correctly—and he knew he was—Binghe had very much enjoyed the biting, actually. He stepped forward before Binghe could get too into it and shoved the flower under Chen Li's nose.

And maybe he was a little clumsy from the urgency of it all, and maybe he shoved a little too hard, because the flower ended up going up her nose a bit. But dignified or not, it did the trick: on Chen Li's next inhale, the demonic qi around her began to disperse. After a few seconds, she'd stopped chewing on Binghe’s arm, and within a minute she'd relaxed and was blinking around the room, looking dazed but calm.

"Baba?" she said, her eyes filling with tears as she took in the sight of her father for the first time in years. Then, looking up at who was holding her, "Palace Master Luo???"

"Do you feel like yourself? Any lingering desire to harm others?" Luo Binghe asked.

She shook her head numbly, her eyes were wide and shocked as she stared at him. "No, Palace Master Luo."

"Do you feel a compulsion to do anything else? Some flowers are known to cause intense arousal, or cloud the mind, or..."

As Luo Binghe began to list off the various date-rape side effects PIDW plants could have, Shen Yuan felt his heart sink. What all had Luo Binghe expected the flower to do? And what kind of person had the original Shen Yuan been for Luo Binghe to suspect such things from him?

"I feel fine," Chen Li said.

Luo Binghe nodded, but his eyes flitted over to Shen Yuan, just for a second, and Shen Yuan could see the distrust in them. "If you begin to feel unwell, you may consult the imperial physicians. Don't hesitate to reach out for help if you need it."

The steward and Chen Li fell over themselves thanking both of them, but it was clear they were anxious for time to catch up and rest after their years-long ordeal. And maybe to work on getting that flower out of her nose, where it was still partially wedged. Shen Yuan almost felt bad about the whole thing as they said their goodbyes—Chen Li was deferential and polite to Luo Binghe, and Binghe was clearly concerned for her safety, but no sparks were flying. By intervening and saving her father's life, it seemed like Shen Yuan had derailed her future marriage.

It was probably for the best, he decided, as they left the suite. Chen Li had been so genuine in her love for Luo Binghe—so painfully grateful to have some of his time during their honeymoon phase, and so overwhelmed by the luxuries he'd heaped on her—that it had hurt more than usual when he'd abandoned her to the depths of his harem.

She'd only made one appearance after her initial acquisition, and that was during Binghe's marriage to the demon princess whose father had inflicted the curse. The threesome between her, Binghe, and the demoness had been in an extra that Shen Yuan had paid for (the summary had described it as Chen Li taking revenge for her father) and then had immediately regretted. 

The revenge, it turned out, had been light bondage and some sexy whipping.

Shen Yuan had immediately run to the comments, complaining that the punishment didn't make sense. The demon princess hadn't even been the one who'd cursed Chen Li! If anyone should be getting tied up and sexily whipped, it was the original demon lord! 

Other commenters had replied saying that he'd missed the point of the chapter, but he stood by his words. And, the more he thought about it, he stood by his actions today, too. Chen Li would be better off without the harem drama, and Binghe wouldn't suffer for having one less wife. 

Whatever sort of person the OG Shen Yuan had been (and the reluctance of the guards to allow him outside plus Luo Binghe's suspicious looks didn't paint a great picture) this was a good first step towards fixing his reputation. Luo Binghe might be harsh, but he wasn't unreasonable. When he saw that Shen Yuan had turned over a new leaf, he'd come around.

Shen Yuan woke up the next morning to a polite knock on his door and the smell of fresh congee.

"The steward sends his thanks," a maid said when he opened the door and stared at her in bleary confusion. "As do the kitchen staff. We've missed Chen Li these past few years." Her eyes shone with unshed tears as she handed over a tray full of hot food and tea. "When you're finished, I'll show you to your new rooms."

Rooms, plural—as in he had a suite, now. 

Apparently, the steward was very, very grateful.

It was more opulent than he'd expected—he had a large, luxurious bed, along with a private dining area and guest room. The courtyard he was located on was clearly intended for visiting nobles, complete with a picturesque pond, flowering trees, and a small garden. 

Thankfully there didn't seem to be any visiting nobles around to complain about Shen Yuan's sudden appearance. The other rooms overlooking the courtyard were empty when Shen Yuan snuck a peek through their windows, and he suspected the steward would do his best to keep it that way. 

It wasn't that the steward was doing anything wrong, exactly. And neither was Shen Yuan! But even if Luo Binghe hadn't given a direct order specifically against giving him a nice room, his lack of favor was obvious to everyone. It would be best to keep a low profile.

Unfortunately the steward wasn't also in charge of Shen Yuan's chores, and so after he settled into his rooms, he had to run to the entrance hall to begin sweeping. The other cultivators and disciples sneered at him as always and continued to sabotage his work, but they were alone in their efforts, now—the servants that passed him nodded respectfully, and at midday, a maid quietly slipped him a pork bun to eat. It didn't completely make up for the way a Huan Hua disciple smashed his face into a marble relief that he was trying to dust, almost breaking his nose in the process, but it helped.

But the biggest change to his daily routine was when he showed up to the training field to practice his sword forms with Binghe.

"It seems like Shen Yuan is getting bored with palace life," Luo Binghe said when Shen Yuan arrived. 

Shen Yuan, who'd been doing his best not to drag his feet as he approached (that horse ride had left bruises in some uncomfortable places), paused. "Bored? No, I'm—"

"Your recovery must be complete if you have the energy to run off in the middle of the night on a quest. I would be remiss if, as your Shizun, I didn't increase your training to match your enthusiasm."

As if he wasn't failing spectacularly at the level of training he was currently at. Shen Yuan swallowed. "Shizun, I feel like my current training is challenging already—"

"Nonsense," said Luo Binghe. He pulled out Xin Mo and swung it forward, the quick action making Shen Yuan flinch and duck his head on instinct.

When he raised his head (and lowered his arms, which he didn't even remember raising in front of himself) it was to see Luo Binghe watching him, face blank, a portal open beside him.

After a moment, Luo Binghe lowered Xin Mo, and said, "Shen Yuan was so excited to save that beautiful maiden that he ran off into the forest alone. Any creature could have attacked and killed him. If Shen Yuan is such a kind, selfless disciple, and truly wants to help people, then he'll need to learn about fighting monsters."

The territory that Huan Hua controlled was actually relatively safe, and the orchid itself had a repellent property that kept most monsters away, but Shen Yuan only nodded his head. If Binghe was saying what he thought he was saying—

"It's time you get some practical experience," Luo Binghe said. "We're going on a hunt."

Chapter Text

When Luo Binghe had been a disciple suffering under the blows from his cruel Shizun, he'd dreamed that one day he might be able to earn his Shizun's love and stop the beatings. Later, in the Abyss, he'd promised himself that his Shizun would learn to fear him in turn.

Now, as he drew Xin Mo to make a portal and watched Shen Qingqiu instinctively cower from him, he felt…strange.

When Shen Qingqiu had been in the Water Prison, Binghe had done everything in his power to get this exact reaction. How much time had he spent trying to make Shen Qingqiu scream? How many hours had he devoted to trying to catch even a glimpse of a crack in the man's sneering, arrogant facade? And now Shen Qingqiu was afraid, if only for that moment, and all Luo Binghe could think of was how his Shizun had looked as a child—how he'd cowered away from his bullies the same way he was cowering away from Luo Binghe now.

It made Luo Binghe feel hollow.

It made Luo Binghe want to kill something. 

Luckily he had just the thing in mind. A mysterious creature had been terrorizing a small nearby town—killing people, eating horses, causing property damage, standard fare—and they needed a hero to swoop in and save the day.

It would be cathartic. It would also be fun to watch his Shizun, stripped of his renowned combat knowledge, struggle to manage the relatively minor situation. 

"You'll need a real sword for this," he said as he motioned Shen Qingqiu towards the portal. The blade he handed him wasn't wooden like the training sword he'd been using previously, but it might as well have been. The edge was dull, the metal was cheap, and the blade was unbalanced.

Watching the once-great Xiu Ya blade look at it with awe in his face was a sight funny enough to almost restore Luo Binghe's good humor. 

As plans went, Luo Binghe felt that handing his Shizun a shoddy sword and watching him flail around for a bit had been a relatively good one. And it had worked—at least, at first. When the giant armored demon bear ambushed them upon entering the village, Shen Qingqiu had taken a few hard hits. He'd even started running away, waving his arms and shouting, which had been funny until Luo Binghe realized he was doing it on purpose, drawing the bear's attention to himself and leading it away from the townsfolk so as to avoid collateral damage during the fight.

It was smart, and thoughtful, and infuriating.

Did Shizun think he was fooling anyone with the hero act? Did he think Luo Binghe would believe him to be a good person just because he saved one maid? It was a simple fact of the universe that Shen Qingqiu was cruel—and sure, perhaps some of that was because of how he'd been hurt as a child, but that didn't come anywhere near excusing his actions. Luo Binghe had been hurt, too, and he hadn't abused, starved, or bullied any of the disciples he had power over.

Well, except for now, but this was different.

"Shizun? Could you, uh—" Shen Qingqiu clumsily ducked as the bear took a swipe at him. "Could you help?"

"It's not much of a training exercise if I do all the work," Luo Binghe said. He'd taken to Xin Mo and was hovering over the battlefield, well out of reach of the creature's attacks. 

The bear lunged, forcing Shen Qingqiu to scramble to the side. He wasn't quite fast enough, though, and the claws caught on his robes, shredding the right side of them into ribbons. He'd already had to throw himself to the ground a few times to avoid attacks, and his outfit was now a patchwork of mud, blood, and tatters.

The old Shen Qingqiu had never had so much as a hair out of place, but Shen "Yuan" didn't seem bothered by his appearance at the moment, being more preoccupied with the bear trying to eat his face (and that's where the two selves differed: his old Shizun would have been able to be upset about both at the same time). He made a desperate stab at the bear's eyes, where the armor looked weakest, but his movements were too slow and weak. The bear brushed him off easily and moved in for the kill.

"Shizun!" Shen Qingqiu yelled. "Please!"

Time for Luo Binghe to save the day. 

He leapt down onto the ground and swung Xin Mo forward in one smooth action, aiming his blade at the bear's neck. The clean, easy decapitation would surely be humiliating for Shen Qingiu, whose struggles hadn't left so much as a scratch, and it would have the bonus effect of drenching him in its demonic blood. He'd probably have to force out a bitter "thank you" between gritted teeth while the remnants of Binghe's kill dripped down his face and into his mouth. 

Xin Mo hit the bear's neck, and bounced.

"That won't work! This is a Diamond-Backed Pangolin-Bear," Shen Qingqiu called from the ground as the creature turned its wrath on Luo Binghe. 

Luo Binghe sidestepped its next attack and swung again, harder this time.

"Its scales are impenetrable," Shen Qingqiu added helpfully as Xin Mo bounced again.

"I can see that." This wasn't Luo Binghe's first time fighting a monster with impenetrable armor. He stabbed at it, aiming for the eyes this time, but the Pangolin-Bear was ready for that—put on guard by Shen Qingqiu's earlier attack, no doubt. It curled into a ball, hiding its eyes, and began to roll towards him.

He gave it a kick, intending to deflect it, but it bounced oddly and began to roll back towards Shen Qingqiu. For a second, Luo Binghe felt his chest go cold—if he couldn't kill the thing with Xin Mo, then Shen Qingqiu had no chance with a rusty stick, and he didn’t want the man to die. Not yet, anyway. 

But when the Pangolin-Bear ball reached the spot his Shizun had been moments before, it kept rolling. Shen Qingqiu wasn't there.

It only took a moment to spot him. He was in the brush, digging through the bushes for…something. Another flower? So much for being humiliated by Binghe's superior strength—he wasn't even watching the fight! Luo Binghe was tempted to kick the Pangolin-Bear his way again, just to teach him a lesson, but before he could seriously consider doing so, the Pangolin-Bear uncurled and lunged at him. It was easy enough to dodge its claws, but to what end? He needed a way past its scales.

"Here!" Shen Qingqiu had a beetle in his hand and was waving it at him. 

Luo Binghe stared at him. 

Had Shen Qingqiu lost his mind? Well, he had, but had he lost it more? What was he doing standing in a bush, happily waving a bug around while a monster was attacking?

But the Pangolin-Bear was already turning towards Shen Qingqiu, its small eyes fixed on the beetle. 

"Grab its tongue when it tries to eat it!" Shen Qingqiu said. "That's its weak point! Once you have control over it, you can lead it away from the village and back into the wilderness!"

Luo Binghe hadn't been planning on spending the day trekking through the forest with a monster. He'd been planning on killing it, basking in the thanks of the villagers, and then potentially marrying a new wife or two depending on how grateful and comely the women there were. When the Pangolin-Bear's tongue shot out towards the beetle, he grabbed it, fully intending to feed it some of his blood parasites and being done with this whole ordeal.

Before he could, though, Shen Qingqiu gave a little whoop of joy. It was so happy and unrestrained that it took a moment for Luo Binghe to realize that it was Shizun who'd made the sound. 

"You made it look so easy! Thank you!" Shen Yuan said, grinning, and despite having been outclassed, there was no humiliation or bitterness in his voice. 

He looked…happy. Really happy.

Luo Binghe blinked at him. Shen Qingqiu's face was different like this—soft and sweet, enough so that he could probably be called beautiful. 

"There should be plains down below this, right?" Shen Qingqiu was saying, and then he was off, walking down the mountain path. "Pangolin-Bears usually stick to the grasslands, but those little emerald beetles are their favorite treat. It probably followed a swarm and got lost up here. If we lead it further south, it shouldn't bother anyone again."

He wasn't even looking to see if Luo Binghe was following him. He just assumed that Luo Binghe would do the right thing—would be kind and save the stupid creature—even though there was no logical reason for him to do so.

Luo Binghe found himself following Shen Qingqiu down the mountain anyway. The Pangolin-Bear, which had gone docile the second its tongue was grabbed, stomped after him quietly as he led it back to its home.

Shen Yuan wasn't sure why Luo Binghe was taking him on so many hunts. Maybe that's the way it had always been for the original goods, or perhaps Luo Binghe had been impressed with how much Shen Yuan had helped during the Pangolin-Bear hunt. Either way, he'd begun to drag Shen Yuan on an adventure every couple days, and Shen Yuan wasn't sure if he should laugh or cry.

On one hand, it was the most fun he'd ever had in his life! He was seeing incredible creatures, fantastical landscapes, and thrilling fights unlike anything he could have hoped to witness outside of a movie theater in his first life. He got to see a Deep-Sea Toad! And a Vulture-Dragon! And a Tiger-Faced Centipede!

On the other hand, he wasn't just viewing the fights, he was in them. The Tiger-Faced Centipede had gotten close enough for him to see all its tiny little tiger legs, which had been cool, but that meant that it had also been close enough to take a chunk out of him with its giant tiger teeth.

Luo Binghe insisted that Shen Yuan take the lead in all their fights and investigations. He said that this was because it was training, though he didn't seem to have much to offer in the way of pointers. He mostly just watched, suspicious and vaguely disapproving no matter how Shen Yuan performed. Shen Yuan couldn't help but feel as if he was being tested, or as if Luo Binghe was looking for some sort of answer—like Shen Yuan was a puzzle that he just couldn't solve.

If it was a test, Shen Yuan thought he'd been handling the human interaction part of their hunts pretty well. He was extra careful to reign in his sharp tongue, even when frustrated, and he was kind and helpful to the people they met (which should have satisfied Luo Binghe, but instead always made him frown harder).

The fights themselves, however…

The monsters were in some ways gentler teachers than Binghe, but he couldn't say he was actually learning much, other than how to tend to wounds. His cultivation had also not improved. He'd skimmed through his manual again, desperate for anything that could help him become stronger, but he was becoming more and more convinced that the Huan Hua disciples had given him a fake.

Luckily there was more than one cultivation manual in Huan Hua.

Breaking into Li Xiaowen's room was easy. The Huan Hua Palace grounds were riddled with secret passages and Shen Yuan knew all of them. All he had to do was go to the third vase in the hall behind the dormitories, tilt it backwards when no one was watching, then slip down through the panel of the floor that opened. From there he could access the tunnels that ran under the floors of all the general rooms in that wing—and, if he wanted, the deeper tunnels that connected to the palace proper, and even stretched down into sections of the Water Prison. 

It was short work to find Li Xiaowen's room, peek through the strategically placed gaps in the floorboards until Li Xiaowen left for dinner, and then slip into the room via another hidden panel. Li Xiaowen probably didn't realize it was there—not only was the panel only accessible from the tunnel, but the entire tunnel network and its doors were so well hidden that even Luo Binghe hadn't found them until a decade into his stay at the Palace. 

That was still a ways off, Shen Yuan realized with a thrill. Binghe would discover the tunnels when an assassin used them to attack and then mysteriously disappear from locked rooms in a cloud of smoke. It wasn't until he'd caught (and bedded, and wedded) her that she'd shared her knowledge of the secret passages. That hadn't happened until after the steward had died, which would still have been a few years off if Shen Yuan hadn't interfered. For now, the tunnels were his and his alone.

Shen Yuan pulled himself up into the room and looked around. Li Xiaowen's room was impressive…at least, compared to Shen Yuan's former storage closet. Compared to his current suite, it was relatively small and shitty. 

Li Xiaowen's cultivation manuals were on a small shelf next to the bed. Even a cursory glance was enough to confirm Shen Yuan's suspicions: the beginners manual that Li Xiaowen had was significantly different from the one Shen Yuan had been given. 

He grabbed the manual, then hesitated. Technically he'd already accomplished what he'd come here for, but Li Xiaowen wasn't a fast eater—Shen Yuan had enough time to rifle through the room, just a bit. He did so, carefully and quietly, and was rewarded with some private letters in a desk drawer that were…interesting, to say the least. 

He grabbed a few of them as well.

Getting the cultivation manual turned out to be the easy part. 

Finding time to actually study it was significantly more difficult, and not just because of his never-ending chores (he was faster at those now). It wasn't the monster hunts, either, though both the hunts and the subsequent recovery time took up a significant chunk of his life. He was currently nursing two broken legs—that Mu Qingfang had instantly healed—from trying to fight a Thousand-Eyed Onyx Tiger. Although he'd been given a generous sichen off from chores to recuperate before being sent back to sweeping, the lingering ache in his bones, the ever-present pain in his shoulders and hips, and a sprained wrist from where bullies had twisted it earlier that day were all slowing him down.

But the real drain on his time was the Huan Hua staff.

"My mother wrote to me and said livestock on the family farm are becoming hostile. They can't even milk the cows anymore, and some of their eyes have started glowing green," one of the stable hands was telling him. "Is it possession? Do they need to be put down?" His voice broke as he asked the question. That kind of loss would undoubtedly leave a small farmer destitute. 

"Is your family farm near the shores of the Sparkling Lake?" Shen Yuan asked.

The stable hand's eyes widened. "How did you know?"

"There's a demonic fungal spore local to the region," Shen Yuan said. "It usually prefers to grow on trees near the shore, but if there was a flood recently—"

"There was!"

"—then it could have spread. Tell your family to throw out all the animal feed. The livestock will be back to normal within a few days of having uncontaminated food to eat."

It had also spread into some of the human food, though no one knew it yet. Left unchecked, the whole village would become violent during winter when they started digging into the stored grain, and Luo Binghe would be forced to step in to sort it out the hard way.

Shen Yuan made a mental note to inform the quartermaster of the upcoming situation. It would be much easier to have the Huan Hua Palace destroy the spoiled food and send in replacements while it was still summer. The quartermaster would listen to him, too—he'd come to Shen Yuan for help earlier, concerned that his wife had been cursed as they'd been unable to conceive a child, and the Wishing-Willow Seed Shen Yuan had gotten for her to swallow had already begun to bear fruit, so to speak. 

The stable hand scurried off, weeping and promising his undying loyalty, and Shen Yuan was able to get a few minutes of sweeping done before he was interrupted again.

"I need help," the maid wept, pulling off her shoe and sock and shoving her foot at Shen Yuan. "Is there a magical potion that will cure this? Or a flower? Or—"

"What? Oh," Shen Yuan managed not to gag, barely. "Please put your shoe back on and go see a doctor. Mu Qingfang can help you."

That only made the maid cry harder. "Palace Master Luo's physician? I couldn't! I'm not important enough for that, and I don't have much money!"

"Tell him I sent you, and show him that," Shen Yuan nodded to whatever medical travesty was occurring on the poor woman's foot. "He won't turn you away."

She wouldn't be the first person Shen Yuan had sent to him, and she probably wouldn't be the last. If Mu Qingfang had objections, he hadn't voiced them during any of Shen Yuan's visits. 

"Thank you," she said, sniffling. "You've saved my life."

Sometimes people's thanks were a bit over-the-top, but in this case…

He eyed her foot. "Very possibly," he said. 

She pressed a homemade fan into his hands as thanks before limping off in the direction of the medical wing. Shen Yuan tucked it into his sleeve along with the other tokens of thanks he'd been given that day. He'd gathered quite a few in the past couple weeks, everything from books to handkerchiefs to straightforward gold. 

The best thank you so far was the food. Forget going hungry—he now had meals delivered to his door for breakfast and dinner, and Chen Li always made sure he got at least a bun for lunch, even if he had to eat it while working. 

It felt good to help people. It also felt good to have a little bit of luxury back in his life. But it was time-consuming, and by the time Shen Yuan made it back to his rooms, he only had minutes to practice his cultivation if he wanted to get any sleep before the next day.

A few minutes wasn't enough time for him to make progress. 

At least, it shouldn't have been.

And yet, whenever Shen Yuan sat down with his manual and ran through the beginning exercises, he found them easy—unsettlingly so. Even Luo Binghe had struggled to initially master the flow of his qi, but when Shen Yuan tried (now that he wasn't following faulty instructions) it came to him like it was second nature, like he was climbing onto a bike for the first time in years and his body already knew all the motions.

He'd gone through the first manual in a single sitting, despite his limited time, and had to steal the second and third manual from Li Xiaowen before he could progress any further. He'd have finished them, too, but he was afraid of pushing too far, too fast. A qi deviation was what had gotten the original goods in this situation to start with—he'd do well to remember that, and to be careful to avoid the same fate.

It wasn't long before he got the chance to test his new cultivation skills. He hadn't been able to use them while training with Luo Binghe yet, since experimenting with a purely theoretical cultivation technique on a monster that was actively trying to kill him sounded like a great way to end up dead, but the bullying from the Huan Hua disciples hadn't let up—and had, in fact, been escalating. Li Xiaowen had been twitchy recently (it was possible having his room broken into and his cultivation texts regularly taken was a factor in this) and he'd been taking it out on the disciples under him, who were in turn taking it out on Shen Yuan. It seemed to him that this presented both a good opportunity to test his skills and to teach some brats a lesson. 

The next time a Huan Hua disciple "accidentally" slammed into him with the intention of sending him tumbling down a steep flight of stairs—hoping to actually break some bones this time, no doubt—he reinforced his feet with qi just like he'd practiced, and stood firm. 

Watching a child bounce off of him and smash onto the ground probably shouldn't have been so satisfying, and yet…

The kid seemed shocked to find himself on the ground. He stared dazed at the ceiling for a few moments before scrambling to his feet and running away, his face bright red. The emotional high of that carried Shen Yuan all the way to evening, when the boy returned, this time with friends.

Shen Yuan was mucking out the horse stalls—his least favorite job. Not only was it hard work, but it offered too many opportunities for the Huan Hua disciples to humiliate him, like they were clearly planning on doing now. 

"You're going too slow," said the boy from earlier, sneering at him confidently now that he had backup. "How did Palace Master Luo end up with such a lazy disciple? I think you need your attitude corrected." He shoved at Shen Yuan again, and again, Shen Yuan braced his legs and the boy fell—though this time his landing was less savory.

Shen Yuan pulled out the fan he'd been given to hide his grin as the boy hit the pile of horse manure with a sick squelch.

"I saw it this time! You pushed me!" the boy said. The other disciples—an older girl in her late teens, and a younger boy who couldn't have been more than twelve—shouted their agreement.

"You can't expect us to take an insult like that," the girl said, and truly, it was amazing how bold these soon-to-be cultivators were when they didn't think their target was capable of fighting back. The punch she threw was loaded with qi—enough to break his ribs if Shen Qingiu allowed it to hit him.

He didn't. He sidestepped neatly—moving was faster and easier, now—and allowed her momentum to carry her past him. She snarled and tried again.

This time when he moved, he also nudged her fist lightly with his fan, using a small burst of power to angle her trajectory to the side. She smashed into the stable wall with a pained yelp. 

"You should watch your step," Shen Yuan said. "The floors in here can be slippery."

The two boys tried to attack together next, but they were equally easy to sidestep and redirect. His fan tapped one on the back and the other on the chest, and within moments both were on the ground.

The girl staggered forward, clutching her bloody nose. She took one more swing at him, but Shen Yuan was getting tired of this game. As satisfying as it was to finally fight back, even if it was against children, he had a lot more work to do that day. Instead of deflecting and dodging, this time he squared his stance and stopped her incoming fist with the palm of his hand.

She screamed as her punch hit the equivalent of a stone wall. She tried to pull back, but Shen Yuan lightly closed his hand around hers.

"You shouldn't swing so hard when you don't know what you're up against," he said, his grip firm. With how hard she'd thrown the punch, at least a few of the bones in her hand were probably broken, and sure enough her eyes were beginning to water with pain as she tried, and failed, to pull free of Shen Yuan's grasp.

Shen Yuan should probably feel bad about that. She was still a teenager, barely more than a child. But the knowledge of what that punch had been intended to do to him—what it would have done, if he hadn't been secretly improving his cultivation—went a long way towards soothing any guilt he might otherwise have felt.

Behind him, he heard the stable doors open. The girl's panicked face lit up with relief, and she shouted, "Get help! He's attacking us!"

"I didn't see anything," said a familiar voice.

It was the stable hand from earlier. Shen Yuan smiled.

The girl looked nervously between them. "...What?"

"I'm just here to get blood oats for the demon horses," the stable hand said, quickly grabbing the bag of feed and making for the exit.

The girl stared at his retreating back in disbelief. "But he's recovered his strength! Please, he's—"

But the stable hand wasn't even looking at her. He gave Shen Yuan a nod and then left, closing the doors firmly behind him.

There was a moment of silence as the Huan Hua disciples took in their situation. As the gravity of it sank in, and they realized they were alone and outmatched, they began to cower. One of them—the youngest boy—started crying.

"I'm sorry," the girl said softly, fearfully.

"Please don't hurt us," the youngest whispered, snot bubbling down from his nose.

It was disgusting. 

If Shen Yuan had whined and blubbered, they would have laughed. For a heartbeat, his fingers spasmed, wanting to tighten, to crush—

The girl screamed, loud and terrified and agonized. 

Shen Yuan let go of her hand and staggered back a few feet, putting distance between himself and her, and his desire to hurt.  

Where had that come from? That wasn't him—it couldn't be. He wasn't the sort of person to enjoy inflicting pain, not unless it was via snarky internet comment. He'd never actually hurt anyone.

But then, he'd never really been hurt, either. 

He should feel horrified. He'd just squeezed a kid's broken hand! That was a bad thing to do! But any regret he felt was quickly swept away by a rising sense of satisfaction. The disciples scrambled backwards towards the exit, frightened, but there was something new in their faces, something he hadn't seen there before: respect. They knew he was strong, now. They wouldn't be bothering him again.

They weren't just bullies—they were cowards. He scoffed at them over the edge of his fan, and at his expression, their faces went white.

"You'll regret this!" gasped the girl as they fled out the door, but Shen Yuan doubted he would, no matter what came next. 

He was more interested in what she'd said earlier. She'd shouted that Shen Yuan had "recovered his strength." He'd been told his cultivation had been abysmal—but perhaps that was relative? Even a fairly strong cultivator was weak in Luo Binghe's eyes, after all. 

Luo Binghe listened to the report from the Huan Hua disciples with a frown on his face.

"He's back," sobbed one of them, clutching her broken hand. "You should have seen his face, the way he sneered at us. He remembers."

Had Shen Qingqiu recovered his mind and then immediately used his power to hurt children? It certainly wouldn't be out of character. 

Luo Binghe swallowed back his disappointment. If Shen Qingqiu really had fully recovered, then he would need to be killed or imprisoned, and his first imprisonment had been so boring. Luo Binghe had wanted to stretch this out longer, had wanted to see Shizun's horror when he regained his mind and realized the depths to which he'd fallen, but it seemed that fate had other plans. If Shen Qingqiu had been able to hurt a senior disciple, then he'd progressed much further in his cultivation than he was letting on—and that subterfuge was, in itself, damning.

That night, Luo Binghe visited Shen Qingqiu's sleeping mind again. The bridge between his Shizun's two selves had thickened enough for some memories and thoughts to theoretically cross over—but how many actually had? Enough for him to regain some of his strength, clearly, and to know to hide it.

The real question was: had he recovered enough of his abilities to become a threat? He wouldn't be able to hurt Luo Binghe, but Shen Qingqiu hadn't been the second ranked Peak Lord for nothing. He was more than powerful enough to cause chaos if left unchecked.

Luo Binghe would have to test him to be safe. He'd need to push Shen Qingqiu to the brink of death to see what he was really capable of. 

And if he miscalculated, and pushed a little too hard?

Well.  If this little game had to end—and if Shen Qingqiu was running around hurting disciples, then there was no other option—then Luo Binghe might as well choose something suitably entertaining for its conclusion.

Chapter Text

The hunt started off unremarkably enough. Shen Yuan had questioned the townsfolk and been pointed to the peak of the nearby mountain, and while the exact nature of the threat wasn't clear (when asked, most of the villagers had simply burst into tears and wailed), from what Shen Yuan was able to surmise, it was some sort of monster that was eating people. Pretty standard stuff.

The first sign that something was wrong came when they began their trek up the mountain. They hadn't gotten more than a few steps before the ground shivered, as if upset they were intruding on its soil. It was a small tremor—barely enough to feel through his shoes—but Shen Yuan couldn't think of a single monster that was powerful enough to shake the ground, that was also something he could successfully fight.

"Shizun," he said cautiously. "Did you feel that?"

Luo Binghe nodded. He looked unconcerned, or at least, unconcerned about Shen Yuan's safety, which was not as reassuring as it probably should have been.

They continued for a few minutes before another tremor shook the ground, this one strong enough that the trees around them swayed—and yeah, there was no way Shen Yuan was going to be able to handle whatever was up ahead.

But Luo Binghe had picked this fight for him. Surely it couldn't be too bad?

"Does Shizun know what kind of monster we'll be fighting?" Shen Yuan asked. 

Luo Binghe gave him a reproving look. "I know what kind of monster you'll be fighting," he said. "These are training missions. If I help you, how will you learn?"

As if he'd been learning anything, other than how to get beaten up! But Shen Yuan kept his peace, at least until halfway-up the mountain when the tremor started again. This time, it didn't stop.

"...I'm not sure I'm strong enough to fight anything this large," Shen Yuan said, trying to sound as if he was making a calm, objective observation about his skill level, and not actively freaking the fuck out. The tremors were growing stronger, and—was the peak of the mountain…moving? Surely that couldn't be right!

"Nonsense. Shen Yuan is stronger than he lets on." There was something steely and calculating in Luo Binghe's eyes that made Shen Yuan's flesh break out in goosebumps. "This teacher has decided it's time for a challenge."

The peak of the mountain wasn't moving, Shen Yuan realized, horrified, because what he was looking at wasn't the peak of the mountain. It was something sitting on the mountain—something so large and rocky that, at a distance, it had been indistinguishable from the earth itself.

"A Mountainous Stone-Backed Lion," Shen Yuan whispered as he watched its monumental head lift, blocking out the sun above them.

"Of course Shen Yuan is already familiar with it," Luo Binghe said, sighing.

The Stone-Backed Lion was the remnant of an ancient civilization—a mountain carved into a loyal guardian, given flesh and life and purpose...and then abandoned to time. In the original story, this fight had taken days, and Binghe had been forced to regrow an entire limb afterwards. Shen Yuan, who was now half-way through the fourth cultivation manual and was solidly at the level of a mediocre amateur, didn't stand a chance.

The Stone-Backed Lion was looking at them—was walking towards them—and at its full standing height it was taller than a skyscraper. It was like being approached by a cliff face, its stone skin covered in bits of forest that sloughed off it as it moved, the trees so minuscule against its massive hide that they looked like grains of sand as they tumbled to the ground.

Each of its footsteps was an earthquake. Each of its breaths was a mini-hurricane. And Luo Binghe was just standing there, watching expectantly, as if Shen Yuan (who until a week ago had barely been able to hold his own against an angry dog!) was somehow going to defeat the force of nature coming their way. 

"Shizun?" Shen Yuan asked, and despite his efforts to keep his cool, he could hear his own voice shake. "Shizun! I can't fight this!"

"It is a bit bigger than I'd expected," Luo Binghe said thoughtfully.

"A bit?"

The Stone-Backed Lion was almost on them. Luo Binghe drew Xin Mo, and for a moment Shen Yuan had hope that, at the very least, he'd have some help in this impossible fight—but no. Luo Binghe was stepping into his sword, preparing to leave.

Forget being cool! "I'll die!" Shen Yuan shouted, grabbing Luo Binghe's sleeve in a desperate attempt to stop him. Luo Binghe had to know that this fight was beyond him!

Luo Binghe—he felt suddenly, horribly certain—did know that, and didn't care.

"Will you?" Luo Binghe asked, his eyes flicking to Shen Yuan's hand where it gripped his sleeve. "I heard that you've managed to improve your cultivation enough to win fights against children. Perhaps you can use those new skills here."

Shen Yuan stared at him, uncomprehending. Fights against children? "Wait, is this about what happened in the stables?"

"When you broke that girl's hand? Yes."

"I was defending myself!" 

"Then do so now," Luo Binghe said, tugging his sleeve out of Shen Yuan's numb fingers.

Luo Binghe wasn't just disappointed in his disciple's lack of skill, Shen Yuan realized. His teaching style wasn't merely neglectful, or harsh. It wasn't even that he didn't care if the Stone-Backed Lion seriously injured or killed Shen Yuan—after all, if all he felt towards Shen Yuan was apathy, why come all this way? 

No, Binghe had come here because he wanted this to happen. He wanted to watch Shen Yuan suffer.

He hated Shen Yuan.

The ground violently lurched beneath Shen Yuan's feet, and that, along with a roar of wind, was his only warning of the incoming attack. He threw himself to the side, and seconds later there were tree-sized stone teeth snapping shut around the ground he'd just been standing on. When the lion's head pulled back, all that was left of that chunk of mountainside was a crater big enough to lose a building in.

The lion's red eyes swiveled, locking onto them, and it began to pull back for another attack. Shen Yuan wouldn't be fast enough. He needed to be flying on a sword if he was going to have a chance, but he'd never tried to fly before. Luo Binghe had always portaled them wherever they'd needed to go.

"What did I do wrong?" Shen Yuan yelled at Luo Binghe's retreating back. Whoever the original goods was, he had to have done something bad, right? Luo Binghe wouldn't hurt someone who didn't deserve it. He just wouldn't. He was a hero—blackened, sure, but still good. He was fair, he was brave, he was—

He was leaving Shen Yuan behind to die.

At Shen Yuan's question, though, he paused, then looked over his shoulder. "You want to know what you did wrong?"

"Whatever it was, I'm sorry!"

It was the wrong thing to say. In a flash, Luo Binghe's calm facade was gone. "Sorry?" he snarled. "Sorry? How can you be sorry? You have no idea—"

And then he was gone.

The lion's next attack, it turned out, hadn't been aimed at Shen Yuan.

The stone paw struck Luo Binghe so quickly that at first Shen Yuan wasn't sure what had happened, only that Luo Binghe was there one moment and gone the next. It took a second to spot where he'd been thrown against the mountainside, a dust cloud billowing from the newly-created impact crater. Xin Mo was thrown in the opposite direction, its blade a dark glitter that quickly disappeared into the dense jungle.

Luo Binghe was only barely visible from this distance, but it didn't look like he was moving. And there was blood. A lot of blood. 

Shen Yuan drew his sword. It wouldn't do anything against the lion, but if he could fly he might be able to pick Binghe up and make a run for it. The only problem was, he didn't know how to fly.

...Unless he did.

The cultivation from the beginning manuals had come back to him quickly. Perhaps this would, too?

The lion was turning to attack Binghe again. There was no time to second guess his gamble. He threw his sword towards the ground and hopped onto it, deliberately not thinking about what he was doing. With his vision full of imminent death—both his own and that of the protagonist, literally the most important person in this world—it was easy to let his body take over.

And then he was moving—flying—toward Binghe at a speed he hadn't experienced since the last time he'd been in a car, only this time there was no seat belt, just a sharp blade and long fall and he'd definitely panic about this all later. He landed in front of Binghe, and Binghe's eyes fluttered open, unfocused.

"Can you move?" Shen Yuan said, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him slightly. "Can you fight? Xin Mo is gone, but if you use my sword—"

Luo Binghe's eyes widened as they flicked to something over Shen Yuan's shoulder. Shen Yuan pulled him to the side with all his might, throwing them both out of the way of the lion's clawed foot as it crashed down on top of where they'd been.

…And on top of where Shen Yuan's sword still was.

"Alright, we don't have my sword, but if we run—"

"My neck is broken," Luo Binghe said. "And my lower back is shattered. I need at least a sichen to heal the damage enough to be able to move."

"Oh."

They didn't have that long. Luo Binghe knew it, too. His face was resigned and bitter as he stared up at Shen Yuan. There was no hope in his expression, and no urgency, despite the situation—there was only hatred and a furious helplessness. He wasn't asking Shen Yuan for his assistance, or directing their retreat.

"...You expect me to leave you here," Shen Yuan said, the realization hitting him like a blow to the stomach.

"Because you will."

And why shouldn't he? Luo Binghe had done the same to him, had left him to the lion while he flew off on Xin Mo. Now that the tables had turned, why shouldn't Shen Yuan repay him in kind? Luo Binghe might even survive! Somehow! 

But as the lion loomed closer, Shen Yuan found himself stepping between it and Binghe.

Binghe might be crueler than he'd hoped, but—as he thought back to how he'd felt in the stables the previous day, with his hand around that girl's broken fist—Shen Yuan had to admit that perhaps he was a bit crueler, too. 

"What are you doing? You'll die," hissed Binghe from behind him as the lion opened its mouth and lunged.

He was right. Shen Yuan would die. He was about to. The teeth were closing in. They were so big that they wouldn't slice him in half—he'd just be pulverized, like a gnat running into an elephant's tusk.

He reached out, half out of instinct, half out of desperation, for something, for anything—

The trees and bushes began to rustle. He felt his qi catch on their leaves, and he pulled, and then the air was filled with thousands of razor blades racing towards the lion.

The leaves were small—barely more than motes of dust in comparison to the lion—but Shen Yuan pushed them forward with everything he had. They poured into the lion's open mouth and tore their way inwards, piercing through the muscle and veins that lay hidden under the thick rock hide.

It only took a moment to find the lion's heart. The leaves shredded it in an instant, and the lion collapsed, sliding to a stop so close to Shen Yuan that the tip of its nose nudged him back a few steps.

It hadn't even had time to roar in pain.

Shen Yuan stared at its body, then at his hands. 

He was alive. 

More than that, he was powerful. Forget being just "okay" at cultivation—he was actually good at this! 

"Did you see that? Did you see what I did?" For a moment he forgot about the strange enmity the original goods had with Binghe, and turned to him in excitement. "Shizun, I can fight!" 

Luo Binghe was staring up at him with wide eyes. The expression on his face was strange as he croaked out, "I saw."

"It was coming right at us, and then I just reached, and—"

Luo Binghe's eyes were growing unfocused. For a second, Shen Yuan thought he was boring Binghe—but no, that was the blood loss was catching up to him. It looked like there was more blood outside his body than in it, and that couldn't be good, even for a heavenly demon. 

Luckily, Shen Yuan had super strength now! When Binghe's eyes flickered closed, he was able to hoist him over a shoulder, retrieve Xin Mo, and begin the long flight home.  

Shen Yuan got more than a few alarmed looks when he arrived back at Huan Hua with a bloody Luo Binghe cradled in his arms.

"What have you done to him?" someone shrieked, and people were drawing their swords, shouting, but Shen Yuan ignored them in favor of speeding towards Mu Qingfang.

"What—?" Mu Qingfang's eyes widened in shock when he opened the door. Shen Yuan supposed they made quite the picture: Luo Binghe coated in blood, unconscious, being carried bridal-style by an equally bloody Shen Yuan. Mu Qingfang made a horrified noise and moved as if to inspect Shen Yuan for injuries, but Shen Yuan brushed him off. 

"I'm not hurt. The blood is all his," he said, laying Luo Binghe on a bed. "There was a Stone-Backed Lion, and it—"

"Is Luo Binghe asleep?"

Shen Yuan paused. That wasn't the question he'd been expecting, but there was an urgency in Mu Qingfang's voice that was impossible to ignore. "Yes? He was hit by—"

"Listen." Mu Qingfang wasn't even looking at his very important patient, instead turning and grabbing Shen Yuan's shoulders. "You're actually—"

"—a brave person for stepping in and stopping that lion," said Luo Binghe from the bed. 

Mu Qingfang's mouth snapped shut.

Shen Yuan frowned. Did Luo Binghe think he was being subtle with his use of the blood parasites? It occurred to him now that in all his trips to see Mu Qingfang, he'd always been accompanied by Luo Binghe. What did the healer need to tell him that Luo Binghe wouldn't want him to know?

"Listen, Shen Yuan. I know my training techniques may have seemed…harsh," Luo Binghe continued.

That was one word for it, Shen Yuan supposed. "Homicidal" was another.

"But you showed me today that you've got a strong character. I can respect that."

If someone had asked Shen Yuan a week ago what he wanted most in this world, Luo Binghe smiling at him and saying that he respected him would have been near the top of the list. But Binghe's smile was the perfect, charming smile that he'd always used in PIDW to disarm his enemies, and Shen Yuan couldn't forget how cold his eyes had been only hours before.

Shen Yuan should try to smile back, but he didn't trust his acting skills enough to put on a convincing show of it, not after everything that had happened today. He pulled out his fan and hid the lower portion of his face instead, giving Luo Binghe a polite nod. "Thanking Shizun for the kind words."

When he raised his head, both Luo Binghe and Mu Qingfang were staring at the fan. 

"Where did you get that?" Luo Binghe asked sharply.

Shen Yuan blinked at him. Fans were a normal thing in this world, weren't they? Was he using it wrong? "It was a gift."

"I see." Luo Binghe gave him a long look, that horribly fake smile still in place, then nodded. "Well. If Shen Yuan is unharmed, then he may leave." Then he hesitated, and for a moment his expression faltered into something more uncertain, more genuine. "...And take the rest of the day off," he added.

As rewards for saving a person's life went, that was a bit underwhelming, but he'd take it. "Thanks, Shizun," he said, and he meant it. He was tired.

He turned and headed back to his rooms…for a few corridors, anyway. Mu Qingfang knew something—maybe about his past, or about why Luo Binghe hated him—and as exhausted as the fight had left him, Shen Yuan had to find out what it was.

Luo Binghe could track him with his blood parasites, but he'd given them to so many of the palace inhabitants that in this case, his over-zealousness worked in Shen Yuan's favor. With so many people infected with blood parasites, how could Binghe possibly tell which person was which? All Shen Yuan had to do to disappear was get to a populated area, wander around for a minute until he blended in with the crowd, and then duck into a secret passage and work his way back to Mu Qingfang's room.

Going directly under the floor was out of the question. Luo Binghe was sure to notice the presence of his blood parasites hovering under his feet where no person should logically be. The medical wing was a busy place, though, and it wasn't hard to find a supply room that connected Mu Qingfang's office to several others. It made sense for people to be there, and so Shen Yuan crawled into it and cautiously approached the connecting door, straining his ears to hear the conversation inside.

"...powerful enough to be a threat, now," Luo Binghe was saying. "You should have seen him using those leaves. If he decides to attack someone—"

"Then you'll have gotten what's coming to you," said a tired sounding Mu Qingfang.

"Oh? Did Mu-shishu prefer it when he was locked away? Should I go back to the way things were?"

Locked away? Shen Yuan shrank back against the wall. They were definitely talking about him, but why had Luo Binghe's personal disciple been locked away? 

"That's not what I meant and you know it," Mu Qingfang snapped. 

"Then give me an alternative. How do I let him continue to roam free while also ensuring that he won't snap and kill someone?"

Luo Binghe was worried that Shen Yuan would kill people?  

His knees felt suddenly weak. If the original goods had been that bad—not just hateful or unpleasant, but actually dangerous—then why would Luo Binghe keep him alive? Shen Yuan could think of several reasons, and he didn't like any of them.

"You could try telling him the truth," Mu Qingfang said. "Maybe explain his situation to him—without playing any of your cruel games—and work to help him become a better person."

Luo Binghe sighed. "I was hoping for something more along the lines of a qi-repressing tea."

"Such a thing exists, but it tastes terrible and he'd notice the effects. He's not stupid."

"No, he's not." Shen Yuan couldn't tell if that was admiration or irritation in Binghe's voice. "And if he realizes he's a prisoner, he'll be too dangerous to be around the other disciples without supervision. He already is, honestly, and I was going to take care of this the easy way, but…recent events have convinced me to find alternate solutions. What about mixing something into his food? That way I could cover the taste. Even just a small amount…"

Shen Yuan listened for a minute as they discussed different approaches to neutralizing the threat he posed, then he quietly slipped back into the tunnel system. The shock and the exhaustion of the day seemed to catch up to him all at once, and he found himself stumbling on his way back to his rooms, tripping over his own feet as he tried to navigate the corridors. 

So he'd been a prisoner. 

Since this was Huan Hua, that meant he'd been in the Water Prison. He was someone who was dangerous and intelligent, but whom Binghe didn't want to immediately kill.

He touched his shoulder, his fingers trembling as they traced the thick scar that connected his arm to his torso. He thought about his other scars, the ones connecting his legs to his hips, and about how he'd had trouble seeing out of one eye and moving his tongue when he'd first woken up.

When he thought about it like that, there was really only one person he could be.

"So. Who's giving Shen Qingqiu gifts?" Luo Binghe demanded. Around the room, his generals and tacticians shuffled their feet.

In the time it had taken him to heal his neck, get himself cleaned up, and find a new outfit, Huan Hua had descended into chaos. Rumors were flying that Shen Qingqiu had regained his memories and injured Luo Binghe in a sneak attack, or had written letters to Cang Qiong to arrange an ambush. At least one demon lord had been under the impression that Shen Qingqiu had defeated Luo Binghe in one-on-one combat and was now the rightful lord of the demon realms, and had begun sending panicked letters to various demon nobles saying as much.

It would take months to sort it all out. 

The fact that Luo Binghe was reluctant to discuss what had actually happened only added fuel to the fire. Shen Qingqiu couldn't have risked his own life to save Luo Binghe—that would be too embarrassing to admit to his subordinates, but more importantly, it couldn't be true. Shen Qingqiu wouldn't do that.

And yet he had.

When Luo Binghe had seen how large and fast the Stone-Backed Lion was, he'd written Shen Qingqiu off as being as good as dead. If Shen Qingqiu's abilities really hadn't recovered, then Binghe had planned to swoop in and save the day—or at least, he'd planned on trying. Even he had his limits, and that lion was pushing them. But he'd believed that during the course of the fight, Shen Qingqiu would reveal the true extent of his powers and his lies, and then Luo Binghe would have the satisfaction of watching him be brutally crushed.

That very much hadn't happened, and Luo Binghe needed to understand what had, especially if Shen Qingqiu was forming secret alliances. "He said he'd been given a fan, but who would get him a gift? He doesn't have any friends."

"He does, Palace Master Luo," said one of the Huan Hua elders. She quailed as Luo Binghe shifted his glare her way. 

"Who?"

"No one important enough that you'd know their name," she said. "He hasn't had contact with any nobles or powerful cultivators. The only people he's talking to have been the steward, the quartermaster, and some servants—those sorts."

"So 'no one important,'" Luo Binghe echoed. "Just the people who actually run the place. And how is he making so many new friends?"

"When I talked to the quartermaster, he mentioned that Shen Qingqiu helped him out of some trouble. He does that for a lot of people, apparently," said one of his generals.

"In exchange for what? Their life-savings? A pledge of loyalty?"

The general shook his head. "He doesn't ask for anything."

Another impossibility. Shen Qingqiu was a lot of things, but selfless wasn't one of them. Except for today, against the lion, with no hope of survival, using his own body to shield Binghe from harm…

Luo Binghe snarled. Collectively, the room cowered.

"Sometimes they give him little thank-you gifts, but I swear there hasn't been anything that could pose a threat!" his tactician offered frantically. "It's mostly been trinkets, a nicer room, and some meals."

And a fan. 

It had been an unwelcome shock to see Shen Qingqiu's unreadable eyes peering at him over the top of that fan. He'd look so much like he had back then, when he'd been an untouchable immortal who'd seen Luo Binghe as a stain upon his Peak. Even his messy hair and roughly cut robes couldn't spoil the impression.

"You're all dismissed," he snapped. He wouldn't find his answers here.

The next place to check was Shen Qingqiu himself. 

Shen Qingqiu had looked tired when he'd left Mu Qingfang's, and sure enough, when Luo Binghe checked the dream realm, his Shizun was on the verge of falling asleep. Despite his obvious exhaustion, some sort of worry was keeping him awake, but it only took the slightest brush of power to coax him under and steer him towards a constructed nightmare: a replica of the lion fight, this time with a few tweaks. 

Luo Binghe settled back, invisible, to watch how things played out. 

At first the dream was true to life. The lion's paw struck the dream-construct of Luo Binghe, knocking him back into the mountainside. Shen Qingqiu frantically fumbled his way onto his sword—and watching the awkwardness of his movements, Luo Binghe felt confident that most of his Shizun's memories and cultivation were still missing—and began to fly forward to save Binghe.

This time, the lion was faster. 

Luo Binghe expected that Shen Qingqiu would be a bit upset about his death. Luo Binghe was his Shizun, after all—or so he believed. But then would come the relief, maybe even joy. Would he smile when he realized he'd no longer have to suffer under Luo Binghe? Or would he simply trot back to Huan Hua and try to claim a position of power in Binghe's absence? If he believed the story that he was Luo Binghe's personal disciple, he'd have reason to think he was entitled to something.

Or, if he'd seen through the ruse and knew he was Shen Qingqiu, would he run? Would he reveal whatever little scheme he was cooking up by winning over Huan Hua's servants?

But when the lion's mouth came down, its teeth crushing Luo Binghe's head, Shen Qingqiu screamed.

It wasn't a startled shout or a cry of revulsion at the gore. This was more like a howl—raw, and full of grief and horror. And then Shen Yuan kept flying towards the lion, even though Luo Binghe was clearly dead. He was risking his life again, and for what?

When he reached Luo Binghe's body, he pulled it in his arms, frantically checking for signs of life despite the dream construct no long having a head, which—

Luo Binghe didn't know what to make of that. Heavenly demons had powerful healing abilities, but losing his head might be a step too far, even for him. That didn't stop Shen Qingqiu, though. He scrambled with Luo Binghe's wrist, checking for a pulse. "No, no, no no no," he was saying, quietly at first, and then with rising volume. "No, no, it's impossible."

When he failed to find a pulse, he cursed, pulling Luo Binghe to his chest and clutching him desperately. The lion was forgotten, and so Luo Binghe quietly dismissed it. He didn't want its next attack to interrupt…whatever this was.

He moved closer.

Shen Qingqiu's face was buried in Luo Binghe's robes, making it impossible to tell what he was thinking. 

That wouldn't do. "Let me see your face," Luo Binghe said. He let the dream become hazier, less coherent, and when Shen Qingqiu looked up to see his dead Shizun standing over him, he didn't even blink.

"I let you die," he said mournfully. "I'm so sorry, Binghe. You deserved better."

The familiarity of the address was surprising enough. The idea that Shen Qingqiu thought he deserved better was…

Luo Binghe didn't know what it was. Shocking? Satisfying? Infuriating?

But what took Luo Binghe's breath away were the tears.

They were streaming down Shizun's face, along with a not-inconsiderable quantity of snot. These weren't careful, delicate tears put on for show, either. He looked broken.

How often had Luo Binghe tried to elicit those tears, that devastated expression, in the Water Prison? He'd failed every time.

Until now.

"Why are you sad?" he asked, bewildered. It didn't make sense. Shen Qingqiu should be happy, and yet here he was, grieving Luo Binghe as if he were one of Binghe's wives.

"Because you were the best part of this world."

Luo Binghe stared at him, struggling to make sense of it. "...Me?" 

People were often most honest in their dreams. As impossible as it was, Shen Qingqiu was telling the truth.  

Shen Qingqiu nodded, tears still streaming down his face. "Yes! You're—you're the center of this story, of this universe. If you're gone, what's the point of it all?"

Perhaps the comparison to one of Luo Binghe's wives had been more accurate than he'd realized.

Slowly, Luo Binghe sat down next to him. It was becoming increasingly obvious that although some of Shen Qingqiu's strength had returned, his memories hadn't. His only moments of power in the fight against the lion had seemed accidental, almost instinctive, and it had most likely been the same in his conflict with the Huan Hua disciples. He hadn't been keeping his powers hidden from Binghe—he simply hadn't realized he'd had them. He really was still blissfully ignorant of his past.

Was it possible that, without the baggage of his old pain and hatred, Shen Qingqiu fallen for him?

It was a ludicrous thought, and yet Luo Binghe couldn't entirely dismiss it.

"...but if you're the center of the story, then you can't be gone. Not permanently!" Suddenly Shen Qingqiu perked up, his eyes shining with hope. "I can bring you back! There's the Holy Mausoleum, or the Veiled Soul-Seer, or the Well of Infinite Wonders! I'm not powerful enough on get to those places on my own, but if I blackmail someone—Mobei-Jun, maybe—into gathering an army, then I could—"

Luo Binghe listened in disbelief as Shen Qingqiu began to mutter to himself, outlining a way to bully and blackmail Luo Binghe's armed forces into doing his bidding. It was a stupidly dangerous plan. It was also disturbingly well-thought out, and Luo Binghe would definitely need to seal up those security risks in his command structure after this dream was over, because it sounded like it might actually work.

Up until now, Luo Binghe had suspected Shen Qingqiu's actions during the lion fight had been self-serving in some way, he just hadn't been sure how. Perhaps Shen Qingqiu had thought he'd be able to improve his own lot by ingratiating himself with Binghe? Or perhaps he'd realized he was being tested, and had been putting on a good show. And it had been a good show—enough to convince Luo Binghe to let him live a little longer, despite the danger he posed—but Luo Binghe wasn't so easily fooled. He knew Shen Qingqiu must have some hidden incentive to save him.

But there was no incentive to bring Luo Binghe back from the dead.

Unless, of course, Shizun loved him.

It couldn't be a shallow love, either. Which of Luo Binghe's wives would go to such desperate measures for him? Was there anyone else alive who'd be willing to risk so much simply because they felt the world was better with Luo Binghe in it?

The thought that there might be someone who cared that strongly for him—and that that person was Shen Qingqiu— was dizzying.

The only question was: did Luo Binghe want him back? This was his evil, horrible Shizun...but who wouldn't be moved by such a powerful display of affection?

Luo Binghe watched Shen Qingqiu for a little longer, his chest weirdly tight, and then let the dream fade. 

Chapter Text

Shen Yuan didn't look like he'd imagined Shen Qingqiu would look. Although he'd never been described physically in PIDW, everyone knew what old, mean masters were like: he should be ugly, with gnarled features and white hair.

The reflection that Shen Yuan inspected in his bronze mirror didn't look all that different from his old face. It was sharper, and maybe a bit more elegant, but it still felt like him.

Was this really the face of a cruel, immortal master? He looked…a bit frumpy, honestly, though that was probably because he'd never quite figured out how to deal with all his hair, and his robes were still the shitty ones he'd been given at the start of his life here. He tried pulling his hair out of the ponytail he defaulted to these days and onto the top of his head as if he was wearing a guan. That looked better, but Shen Yuan was still having trouble seeing it. 

Regardless of whether or not he felt like Shen Qingqiu, though, that was how everyone else saw him. That was how Luo Binghe saw him.

Shen Yuan was very familiar with how Luo Binghe felt about Shen Qingqiu. The qi deviation that had brought Shen Yuan here was clearly entertaining Binghe, but for how long? If Shen Yuan wanted to survive, then he needed an exit plan.

If Luo Binghe wanted him dead, though, then he would die. It was inevitable, which meant the Sun-Moon Dew Mushroom was probably his best option. It was in Huan Hua territory, so it'd be easy to get, and it would allow Binghe to kill him while also granting Shen Yuan a second (third?) chance at life. But tending to his plant body as it grew would take time, which he was chronically short on.

Luckily, the timing was about right for him to finally take care of his excessive chore problem.

Ordinarily the head disciple would be in charge of work assignments, but in Gongyi Xiao's absence (Luo Binghe had already exiled him to who-knows-where), Li Xiaowen was running things. That might be a problem under normal circumstances, since Li Xiaowen didn't seem eager to jump on the "make Shen Yuan's life easier" bus, but the personal letters Shen Yuan had found in his room had been illuminating. They'd outlined a schedule, as well as negotiations for large, regular sums of money. The meetings weren't often, but Shen Yuan was patient—all he'd had to do was wait for the next date to arrive, and then duck into the tunnels, abandoning his work in favor of following Li Xiaowen around for the day from beneath the floors.

"Where is he?" Li Xiaowen muttered during a stop to check on Shen Yuan. "If he thinks we won't beat him for not doing his chores just because he has fancy cultivator skills now, he's in for a surprise!"

He looked for a while, his grumbling becoming more irritated as he failed to find Shen Yuan, before reluctantly going back to his daily routine. Then, about halfway through the day, he quietly slipped away from his duties and ducked into one of the older, out-of-the-way corridors, and from there into an unused classroom. 

There was a rustle of fabric as his co-conspirator stood up to greet him. 

"Here's your money," said a woman's voice. "What news do you have this time?"

Gold clinked as Li Xiaowen pocketed the coins. "Luo Binghe has been preoccupied lately," he said, launching into a recap of recent meetings between Luo Binghe, his generals, and the Huan Hua leadership. "Plans to combine the realms are on hold."

Li Xiaowen was spying on Luo Binghe? Really? Had he seen what Binghe had done to Shen Yuan?

"For how long?" asked the woman.

"Until his game with the prisoner is finished, probably."

Shen Yuan couldn't enter the room they were in without giving away the existence of the tunnels, but there was a connecting room he could use. He headed there and quietly slid the entrance open. 

"And by prisoner, you mean Shen Qingqiu?"

"Don't say his name," Li Xiaowen hissed. "Luo Binghe's forbidden it."

"If he can hear us, then we have bigger problems."

"But why take the risk? If someone walking by heard it and reported us to him—" 

"Would he be upset?" Shen Yuan said, sliding open the door that connected the two rooms. He glided in, trying to project the air of a dignified immortal master and not look like he'd just scrambled through a small hole in the floor. He raised his fan and glared imperiously at them over its edge. "Tell me, what would Luo Binghe do to you if he heard you saying my name?"

Li Xiaowen and the woman both jumped to their feet at his entrance. 

"What? Are you saying—you know that you're—" Li Xioawen choked, his face red. "How—?"

"Which do you think will make him more mad: speaking to me about my real identity, or selling his secrets to—who are you, even? A cultivator from Cang Qiong?" It was an idiotic thing to do, no matter who Li Xiaowen was working with. Typical low-IQ cannon fodder behavior.

"I'm from Zhao Hua," the woman said. She shifted her stance subtly, readying her qi, but didn't attack. "I represent an alliance of human cultivators. We've heard the rumors of demonic influence in Huan Hua, and we've noticed Luo Binghe expanding his territory. We're not stupid; we know we're next."

The fact that she was here at all showed that they were, in fact, a little bit stupid. Shen Yuan raised an eyebrow at her. "You can't beat him."

"It's in your best interest that we do," she said. "We're not your enemy, but Luo Binghe is. If you've remembered who you are, then you know that he's hurt you before, and will surely do so again."

She was right about that, at least. "He will. But if you know who I am, then can you really say I don't deserve it?" Shen Qingqiu's trial, and his crimes, had been extremely public.

"...You really believe you deserved all that?" said Li Xiaowen, looking faintly horrified. "He broke you, didn't he?"

"Not as much as he'll break you when he reads these."

Shen Yuan pulled out the letters he'd taken from Li Xiaowen's desk. The Zhao Hua monk inhaled sharply at the sight of them, then whipped around to glare at Li Xiaowen. "You didn't burn those?" she hissed, at the same time as Li Xiaowen said, "Wait, have you been in my room? Are you the one taking all my cultivation manuals?!"

"Never mind that." Shen Yuan tucked the letters back into his sleeve. "What matters is that your monk friend is right about one thing: we're not enemies. At least, for the right price, we don't have to be."

At his words, the Zhao Hua monk's defensive pose relaxed a bit. Extortion was evidently familiar territory. "I understand. You're wise to join us. If you're looking for gold—"

"I'm not joining you, and I don't want your gold." Shen Yuan paused. "Well. I'll take the gold, actually, but I'm willing to pretend this never happened if the disciple chore list is redistributed—in my favor, this time."

There was a moment of silence.

"I'm sorry, you're blackmailing us for…fewer chores?" The Zhao Hua monk stared at him in disbelief. "That's it?"

"The gold as well, if you will." He could bury it near his plant body and use it to start his next life.

"You're not getting anything," said Li Xiaowen. He was probably trying to sound tough, but the effect was somewhat spoiled by the way fear made his voice break halfway through. "If you tell Luo Binghe about any of this then I'll tell him that you've remembered that you're—you know, him. Then the game will be over, and you'll go back to the Water Prison. You wouldn't risk that."

"You could do that," Shen Yuan said. "It would certainly give me plenty of time to tell Luo Binghe how you're the one who told me that I'm Shen Qingqiu, and spoiled his game." It was a bluff; if he ended up being tortured, he was pretty sure all he'd be saying were inarticulate screams. "My fate will be unpleasant, sure, but I wonder what he'll do to the person who ruined his revenge? Only one way to find out, I suppose."

Li Xiaowen's face paled, then flushed. "You—"

"He'll fix the chore list," said the monk.

"But—" 

"He'll fix it." The monk glared at Li Xiaowen. "Keep his name on the sheet and do half the work yourself if you need to, I don't care. Consider it penance for keeping those letters where someone could find them. You do realize the fate of the human race is at stake, right? What were you thinking?"

Li Xiaowen began spluttering and arguing, but he'd been outmaneuvered and he knew it. Shen Yuan's work here was done. He quietly slipped back to the other room and closed the door, then hurried down through the still-open panel into the tunnel below. 

His strange exit didn't go unnoticed. 

"Where are you going? That room doesn't have any—" the monk opened the door, "—exits…"

The room was empty, the secret passage already sealed up behind him.

"Where did he go?" Li Xiaowen asked, coming into the room after her. Shen Yuan could hear him frantically checking in the closets and under the furniture. "What happened? Can he go through walls?"

"Going through walls is impossible," the monk said, but she sounded unsettled.

"Then explain this! And explain how he's getting into my rooms! There's only one key—which never leaves my person—and there's ten separate protection arrays on my door that should have…"

Shen Yuan walked away. Under other circumstances, he might have stayed to learn more about their plans, but the human cultivator alliance wasn't a real threat to Luo Binghe.

They might, however, be useful. 

Shen Yuan made appearances a few times a day to do chores in high visibility places, but in his off hours he lived in the tunnels, practicing with his training sword and studying his cultivation manual. Many of the disciples seemed to be under the impression that he'd completely regained his Peak Lord abilities—an illusion he didn't plan on disabusing them of—but it'd be good to have some actual skills to back up the bluff if he needed it. 

He could still do the leaf thing. Kind of. He'd tried practicing with some of the leaves from the courtyard outside his room with mixed success. He could get them to move in the direction he wanted, but hadn't figured out how to sharpen them. Without the urgency of a life-and-death situation, quieting his mind and letting his instincts take over was more difficult.

More difficult—but not impossible. Every day Shen Yuan improved a little bit.

Unfortunately, as the original good's skills returned, so did his memories.

The first flashback was relatively tame. Shen Yuan had been sweeping one of the more public courtyards when he'd glanced at some bamboo and been filled with a vision: a quiet mountain forest, with gentle streams and scenic waterfalls and a house—no, a home. It was elegance and tranquility and safety, everything he'd never had as a child, all rolled up into one perfect place. The homesickness that had hit him had been so fierce that he'd had to stagger over to a bench to catch his breath.

It was the dreams that were the worst, though. If they weren't nightmares like the one where the lion had killed Binghe, then they were memories—and the original goods, it turned out, had a lot of bad memories.

In this one, Binghe was only a child. He was small and fluffy and unbelievably huggable, but when he stepped into the bamboo house, all Shen Yuan felt was rage.

This boy acted so pathetic, and yet he had everything: a mother (who'd died, sure, but before that had raised him with love), mountains of untapped spiritual potential, and the chance to learn cultivation at an early enough age that his abilities wouldn't be permanently stunted. The kid would be powerful one day.

Shen Qingqiu might have been powerful, too, if he'd had a fair chance. 

The boy's eyes were shining with hope as he served Shen Qingqiu tea. That expression in particular itched at something in his chest. When was the last time Shen Qingqiu had felt hope? This, too, was something Luo Binghe had that he'd been denied. 

As Peak Lord he'd accepted plenty of rich, spoiled kids to Qing Jing. They'd had opportunities he hadn't, but they were a different species—contemptible, sure, but too alien to be truly infuriating. With Luo Binghe it was like looking into a cruel mirror, where his reflection was getting everything he'd ever wanted, everything he'd deserved, all while he had to stand by and watch. 

He hated it. He hated him.

The tea tasted like shit, too. 

Perhaps it was time Luo Binghe learned how unfair life could be. Shen Qingqiu picked up the teacup and—

What was he doing?

His hand spasmed and the teacup fell, missing Luo Binghe's head and shattering on the floor. Binghe jumped back, startled, but not as startled as Shen Qingqiu was—no, as Shen Yuan was.

He was Shen Yuan. 

Wasn't he?

"Shizun?" Luo Binghe asked. When Shen Qingq—Yuan, when Shen Yuan looked at him, his face was a perfect picture of shock and concern. But his eyes…

They were curious, brilliant things, staring back at Shen Yuan with far more intelligence than a child that young should have. 

So he was the real Luo Binghe. This must be the dream realm, then. Shen Yuan took a deep, ragged breath, trying to calm his racing heart. It was okay that he was confused about who he was. It was natural, even! Luo Binghe had built this dream, so of course it would be convincing!

"This disciple apologizes for the quality of the tea!" Luo Binghe said earnestly. "I'll clean up the mess and try again!" 

"No need." Shen Yuan gave him a shaky smile. "The tea was…fine. Binghe did well. My hand merely slipped."

If the look in Binghe's eyes hadn't been enough for Shen Yuan to realize he wasn't actually looking at a child, Binghe's ensuing grin would have been. It was happy, sure, but there was an unsettling intensity to it.  

Why was Luo Binghe playing out this memory? Did he want an apology? A do-over? Shen Yuan handed him a real cultivation manual and ordered Ming Fan to take him to the disciples' dormitories. Hopefully that would be enough to satisfy him.

Even knowing that it was a dream, his fingers still twitched when he let go of his cultivation manual, and he had to grit his teeth when assigning Binghe to the dorms. The hatred had faded, diluted by Shen Yuan's sensibilities, but it had left behind a bitterness. 

That bitterness followed Shen Yuan through the rest of the dream and into the morning, and was still a lingering presence in his mind when Luo Binghe found him. 

Luo Binghe had mostly kept his distance since the Stone-Backed Lion hunt, which was a relief given the revelation of Shen Yuan's identity as Shen Qingqiu, but apparently nothing good could last forever. Shen Yuan was in the middle of doing laundry when Luo Binghe showed up and told him he was done with chores for the day (which he pretty much had been anyways, but he wasn't going to share that). 

"Follow me," Luo Binghe said, smiling—and it was that same too-toothy smile from the dream. "I have something I want to show you."

Shen Yuan stepped through Xin Mo's portal expecting to be dumped into another battlefield.

Instead, he was faced with a garden of giant flowers.

The garden was overgrown but serene, with a picturesque pond, gentle stream, and vine-covered moon bridge. A walking path wound through it, surrounded on all sides by flowers that ranged from large (about the size of Shen Yuan's head) to absurdly large (big enough to park a car on). There were crumbling walls around the garden that had long since failed to contain the giant plants, and through its gaps, it was possible to see that the flowers had spread into the surrounding forest. The trees there were giant, too—this was an ancient growth, suitable for the ancient ruins of the palace whose grounds they were on. 

It was beautiful. It also wasn't the site of any battles. There were no dangerous monsters here, only a scenic backdrop that Luo Binghe had used to woo several of his wives.

"There were reports of some frightening creatures sighted in this area," Luo Binghe said. "No deaths, so no need to be worried, but I thought it was worth looking into."

Who would have even made those reports? The ruins had been abandoned for over a thousand years. No one knew of this place other than Binghe and a few select wives.

Luo Binghe was lying—but why? 

Shen Yuan pulled out his fan to cover his frown. "Yes, Shizun. I'll take a look," he said.

He began to walk along the path, looking carefully around to see if there were any hidden surprises, but the garden was as boring as it was beautiful. The plants themselves weren't even dangerous; other than being oversized, there was nothing remarkable about them. 

Luo Binghe seemed content to meander along, occasionally stopping Shen Yuan to remark on a particularly sight. "It's incredible, isn't it?" he said, pointing to the giant lotus flower floating on the pond's surface.

Its only interesting feature was that it was big enough that Luo Binghe had made love to not one, but two different women on it (less because it was well suited to such activities and more, Shen Yuan suspected, so Airplane could copy and paste from the original scene). "If Shizun says so," he said, eyeing the flower dubiously. 

"I never knew such a beautiful place existed," Binghe said as they walked over the bridge, placing a hand on Shen Yuan's arm to stop him so that they could take in the view together. 

Luo Binghe had been here at least three times, judging by where they were in the timeline. Shen Yuan nodded, waited for Luo Binghe to move his hand, then continued on.

"Look—that must have been a pavilion at one point," Luo Binghe said, his voice a bit strained now. Whatever reaction he'd been hoping for from Shen Yuan, cautious neutrality apparently wasn't it. "Let's rest there. I have some snacks we can use to refresh ourselves."

The ruins of the pavilion were filled with beautiful flowers and soft moss, making it the perfect setting for a romantic picnic—which is why Luo Binghe had used it as such several times already. It seemed like he planned on doing so again today. Shen Yuan watched, baffled, as Binghe began to pull wine and an assortment of delicacies out of his qiankun bag.

Had Luo Binghe taken him out here to poison him? He'd been discussing ways to cripple Shen Yuan's cultivation with Mu Qingfang, but surely he didn't need such an elaborate setup to slip something into his food. He could cut Shen Yuan down in cold blood in the middle of Huan Hua and no one would raise a hand to stop him. If he wanted Shen Yuan to eat something, he could simply order it. 

Luo Binghe was taking his time setting up the picnic. He seemed to be putting legitimate effort into making it look nice for some incomprehensible reason, and so Shen Yuan took the opportunity to wander to the lake edge. There was nothing truly exciting in the garden, but if he got lucky…

He poked carefully through the reeds around the shores, and yes: there was the Giant Demonic Water Salamander, lurking quietly inside a hole in the shallows, its gleaming red eyes the only evidence that it was there at all. In the original story, one of Binghe's wives had been wading in the pond and been bitten on the leg by it, allowing Binghe the opportunity to show his heroic side by killing the creature, and then his caring side by tenderly bandaging the wife's wound. 

Shen Yuan had always thought it was a bit of a shame. The salamander hadn't been a man-eater (it wasn't quite big enough for that…yet). It had just been startled when a foot slipped into its home and stepped on its face, and honestly, who could blame it?

Shen Yuan pulled out a bun he'd stashed in his sleeve for lunch and tossed it into the water. After a few moments, the salamander darted out of its hole and grabbed it. It paused there, its beady eyes just above the surface of the water, the fringed gills around its head flared out in warning as it stared back at Shen Yuan. 

It had probably never seen a human before. It was also probably deciding whether or not it could eat him (which it definitely couldn't, but Shen Yuan couldn't begrudge it the ambition). 

He smiled at it. It was actually kind of cute in a slimy sort of way, more of an axolotl than a proper salamander with its pink coloring, finned tail, and external gills. It was a bit sad that it only had a decade or two left before it was stepped on and killed. Then again, that was almost certainly longer than Shen Yuan had.

Perhaps the salamander should be pitying him.

"That's the first time you've smiled since we got here."

Shen Yuan jumped. Luo Binghe, apparently satisfied with his tablescape, had snuck up beside him and was now looking at him with a small, frustrated frown.

"...Is it?" Shen Yuan asked. 

"It is." Binghe turned his frown towards the salamander.

The salamander wasn't a smart creature, but it knew enough to fear Luo Binghe. There was a splash as it whipped around and swam back into its hole, getting as far away from the heavenly demon as it could. 

"And there it goes," said Shen Yuan, sighing. It was unlikely he'd ever get to see it again.

"You're disappointed."

He was, but why did Binghe care? "I'm alright, Shizun," he said.

"You're not enjoying yourself, though." Luo Binghe was practically pouting. Shen Yuan hadn't ever thought he'd describe the stallion protagonist of PIDW as sulky, but there wasn't really any other word for it. "Since when have you been so difficult to please? You always smiled on our hunts, and those were nowhere near as nice as this."

They had been terrible, likely by design, but Binghe wasn't wrong. Shen Yuan had enjoyed them more than whatever this was. "The hunts were difficult," he admitted cautiously, "and I can't say I miss being ripped to shreds on a regular basis, but they were never boring."

"And this garden is." And shit, Binghe looked upset now. 

"I didn't say that!" 

"You meant it though," said Luo Binghe. "The only thing in this garden that you've actually enjoyed was the salamander."

"...The salamander was interesting."

"And I scared it away," Luo Binghe said. He looked tired. "I came out here to tell you lunch was ready. If you're even hungry."

Shen Yuan wasn't. "That sounds wonderful, Shizun!" he said anyway, and he did his best to smile, since apparently that was what Luo Binghe was after. By the resigned look Binghe gave him in return, it wasn't convincing.

The picnic in the pavilion had been laid out beautifully. Binghe had used some large red flower petals as a picnic blanket of sorts, and had artfully arranged wine, cups, and several small plates of delicacies on them. Shen Yuan sat next to it, eyeing the food warily. 

If this was about poisoning Shen Yuan—and he couldn't see any other angle Binghe would have for this—then why do it here? Could there be an environmental component that enhanced certain poisons? Maybe there was some sort of toxin that was amplified if the victim was happy, or calm, or surrounded by an almost painfully kitschy landscape. 

There was no way to tell, but there was also no way to avert his fate. If Luo Binghe wanted him to eat, then he would eat.

Luo Binghe sat down heavily next to him. He poured himself a generous cup of wine, downed it, and then poured himself another. "Want some?" he asked.

Shen Yuan really didn't. "Yes, Shizun," he said.

Luo Binghe poured him a cup. "Help yourself to the food. I made it myself."

Normally Shen Yuan would have happily emptied his bank account to try even a single bite of Luo Binghe's cooking, but under the circumstances it was hard to be excited. "Is there any food you'd like me to try?"

"I want you to want to try all of it."

"Then I want to try all of it." Shen Yuan filled his plate with a sample of everything, then dutifully took bites of all of it. It was probably incredible, but dread turned it to ash in his mouth.

"Do you like it?" Luo Binghe asked, and there was a weirdly vulnerable look on his face as he waited for Shen Yuan's answer. 

"Of course. Luo Binghe is a wonderful cook." Theoretically, anyway. 

"What's your favorite?"

Shen Yuan pointed to a desert at random. "This one."

Luo Binghe placed a few more of the selected desserts—some sort of small cake—onto Shen Yuan's plate.

Was this a test? Shen Yuan choked them down. Luo Binghe watched him intently the whole time, hardly even blinking.

It was unsettling. Was he waiting to see the moment the poison kicked in? Would Shen Yuan start to scream? Or melt? Or, if the goal was to permanently damage his qi, would he feel the moment when his power deserted him?

Would it hurt?

When his plate was empty, Shen Yuan swallowed hard, doing his best to keep any of the cakes from coming back up, and set down his chopsticks. 

Binghe seemed disappointed in his lack of enthusiasm. "You don't want any more?"

Shen Yuan wanted to throw up. "I could eat more if you want me to," he said reluctantly.

That apparently wasn't the response Luo Binghe was after. He drained his second cup of wine and stood up. "Never mind," he said, his lips pressed into a grim line. "It's time to return to Huan Hua."

He didn't bring up the strange creature sightings that were the supposed reason for the trip, and Shen Yuan didn't remind him. He didn't feel unwell, and his qi still seemed to be circulating normally. He wasn't sure what Luo Binghe's plan had been, or why it had failed, but he'd take any break he could get.

With Luo Binghe clearly speeding up his revenge timeline, Shen Yuan knew he had to act fast.

The Sun-Moon Dew Mushroom seeds had been described in PIDW as being at the center of one of Huan Hua's infamous maze arrays—which would have been a formidable barrier if Shen Yuan hadn't already had access to Li Xiaowen's room. All senior disciples were granted a jade access-token that allowed them into the medium-to-high security parts of Huan Hua, including the arrays. Shen Yuan hadn't been given one for obvious reasons, and they were carefully guarded, worn at the hip at all times…except while asleep.

In the wee hours of the morning, while Li Xiaowen slept, Shen Yuan quietly snuck into his room and pocketed the token from his desk. He'd have to return it if he didn't want to spark a sect-wide investigation into its disappearance, but he wouldn't need it for long—with it, getting to the Mushroom seed was (literally) a walk in the park. He was able to have a gentle, if hurried, stroll through the forest until he found the center of the array, then wade into the shining pool he found there, carefully gather a seed, and return to Huan Hua, all in under an hour. 

Then all he had to do was plant it.

While on one of his many excursions to chop wood (usually with Huan Hua's dullest axe), Shen Yuan had seen a small clearing just outside the palace walls that would be the perfect spot to grow his new body. It was close enough that he'd be able to slip out and tend to it periodically without too much risk, but out-of-the-way enough that it wouldn't have much foot-traffic. 

In PIDW, however, mushroom bodies took years to grow. Shen Yuan didn't have that long.

When he got to the clearing, he pulled out a pouch of demonic horse dung he'd gathered from the stables and used a stick to mix it with the handful of pollen he'd grabbed from one of the garden's freakishly giant flowers. He coated the seed in the mixture, wrapped it in a talisman to encourage quick growth (copied painstakingly from a talisman book he'd also stolen from Li Xiaowen), infused the whole thing with a quick burst of qi, and then buried it. 

Theoretically, his preparations should speed things up considerably, changing the years-long wait into only a couple months…unless he'd miscalculated, and the body over-ripened and rotted instead. He supposed he'd find out, one way or another.

He could only hope that he'd be able to hang on long enough for it to matter.

Chapter Text

In the end, the decision to court Shizun had been easy. The love and dedication he'd shown towards Luo Binghe during the Stone-Backed Lion fight—and then later, during the darker dream rendition of it—had been very persuasive.

It didn't hurt that Shizun was actually quite beautiful when he wasn't scowling at everyone all the time.  

That didn't mean Luo Binghe had forgiven Shizun. He liked to think he was a forward thinking person, though, and if there was a possibility that Shizun's qi deviation had truly turned him into a better person, then Luo Binghe was willing to consider accepting him into his bed. 

And if Shizun regained his memories later, turned back into his old self, and hated that he'd willingly given his heart and body to Luo Binghe?

Well. That would be fun to see, too.

There was no question in his mind that this version of Shizun already loved him. Not only had he risked everything for Binghe, but when given the chance, he had chosen not to pour tea on Luo Binghe's head in the dreamscape. Instead he'd praised Binghe, given him his personal cultivation manual, and directed him to be housed in the dorms just like a proper disciple. But love wasn't enough. He wanted Shizun to need him. 

The first step was to prepare some food. Luo Binghe spent a full day cooking his most impressive treats, ones so delicious that previous wives had made all sorts of wonderful noises when they'd tasted them. For a moment, he pictured Shizun's face going slack with pleasure as he tried the food. Would he moan softly as he swallowed Binghe's work?

The thought was…intriguing. 

Luo Binghe was brimming with anticipation, both for Shizun's reaction to the treats and for their inevitable union, when he portaled them to the flower garden. Shizun had always been enthusiastically upbeat on their hunts, and Binghe expected him to be even happier now that there were no monsters trying to eat him.

But that didn't happened. Instead, Shizun was quiet, cautious, and clearly confused. Even Luo Binghe's cooking wasn't able to save the day; Shizun looked at the picnic as if it was a coiled snake about to strike him, and swallowed down his meal with a smile so painfully fake it made Binghe sick to look at it. It was almost—almost—as bad as when he'd been a disciple and Shizun had simply thrown his food on the floor.

Perhaps Luo Binghe was thinking too small. If a garden and picnic weren't enough for Shizun, then he'd just have to find something more impressive.

"Where are we this time?" Shizun asked, looking around the grand entrance with trepidation.

"The Crystal Palace," Luo Binghe said. He hadn't bothered with the pretense of being on a monster hunt this time. Likewise, Shizun hadn't asked why they were here. They both knew what the game was, now (the romantic picnic hadn't exactly been subtle, and Shizun, for all his faults, was brilliant). 

Shizun's initial lack of enthusiasm didn't worry him. He wouldn't be the first of Luo Binghe's conquests to enjoy playing hard to get. Binghe would succeed as he always did, and there was nowhere in either the demon or human realms that was richer or more impressive than this.  

The demons who'd lived in the Crystal Palace had long since died off, leaving only one remaining woman in the royal line. Luo Binghe had already found and married her, and their courtship had been filled with long walks through the Palace's sparkling crystalline architecture and exquisite meals that he cooked for them using the rare fruits he found on the Palace's ancient grounds. He'd eventually won her heart by slaying the evil lurking in the caverns below that had killed her family, and she'd been so grateful that she'd dragged him to sit on the diamond throne, crowned him, and then climbed onto his lap and ridden him until he'd given her an heir.

Any hopes that Shizun would be similarly inclined were quickly dashed. 

"...It's very shiny," he said when Luo Binghe pointed out the floor tiled in rubies and sapphires. The giant statues carved out of jade only got a neutral "hmm," and when Luo Binghe sat on the diamond throne—an objectively compelling view—Shizun actually wrinkled his nose at him. 

Once again, Luo Binghe prepared a meal for him, and once again, Shen Qingqiu ate it with a grim determination.

Shizun being picky wasn't a surprise—being difficult to impress had been his defining character trait as a teacher. If neither the garden's beauty nor the palace's riches were enough, then perhaps refinement was the way to his heart. For their next trip, Luo Binghe took him to the Hall of Trees, where a grove of beautiful wood spirits had displayed their art, showcased their finest musical instruments, and practiced their dancing (or at least, they had, until Luo Binghe showed up. They'd never seen a man before, and their curiosity had quickly turned the hall into the site of an orgy).

The Hall had been empty since its residents had moved into Binghe's harem, but the walls of woven branches were still alive and thriving, if a bit overgrown. The spring weather meant the trees forming the walls were covered in pink flowers, and the air was filled with the perfume of cherry blossoms and slowly falling petals. 

Luo Binghe guided Shizun through it, showing off the world-class paintings and poems that the women had created.

"It is good art," Shizun admitted when Luo Binghe prompted him to say something—anything. He looked wistful. "It's a shame the artists stopped making it."

Luo Binghe bristled. He couldn't tell Shizun what had happened to the artists—that would mean admitting he was wooing Shizun at the site of a previous courtship—but the wood spirits were fine. They were still making art. 

Probably. 

It had been a while since he'd checked in on them, now that he thought of it. 

"There's a guqin," Luo Binghe said, changing the topic. "How about you play a song for me while I prepare some food?"

"Play? I—"

"It's alright if you don't remember how. Just relax, and try."

Luo Binghe had heard Shen Qingqiu play many times before. Although he'd never been allowed in the audience when Shizun performed (his face had been "so beastly as to be antithetical to the creation of art," or so he'd been told), the woodshed had been close enough to the bamboo house that occasionally he'd hear hints of song in the evenings. Once, while sneaking through the bamboo forest in an effort to avoid Ming Fan, Luo Binghe had even gotten to see him play. 

It had been at night, and Shizun had been playing next to a serene pond, the moonlight reflecting off the water and lighting the clearing with an ethereal glow. Shizun's back had been straight, his face peaceful, and his hands elegant as they danced over the strings. He'd been beautiful, so much so that Luo Binghe had stopped to watch, entranced, before the reality of what Shizun would do to him if he was discovered caught up to him. He'd hurried away, but the image of his Shizun had lingered.

Now he'd get to see it without hiding.

Shizun wasn't quite as graceful or confident as his past self as he sat down next to the guqin. He hovered awkwardly over the instrument for a moment before he closed his eyes, forcibly relaxed his shoulders, and lowered his hands.

The first few notes were a mess. His fingers moved aimlessly over the strings, seeming to pluck them at random, filling the air with a discordant jangle of mismatched notes. But as they continued to move, a thread of a melody emerged.

The longer he played, the stronger the melody became, until it became clear enough for Luo Binghe to recognize it as one of the songs he'd often heard played at night when the rest of the Peak was asleep. It was soft, sweet, and a bit sad.

Shizun's eyes were still closed when Luo Binghe finished warming up the meal he'd packed for them. "It's time to eat," Binghe called, a bit reluctant to end the song.

When Shizun's eyes opened, they were full of tears.

"Are you alright?" Luo Binghe felt something in his chest twist at the sight. He'd fought so hard for Shizun's tears, but he didn't want them right now. This was supposed to be fun. Shizun was supposed to be happy.

"What? Oh." Shizun used his sleeve to quickly wipe his eyes, laughing a little. "I'm not sure why I'm—I must have gotten some dust in my eye. Don't mind me." 

But he was quiet and melancholy after that. He hardly touched the food Luo Binghe had made for him, his eyes continuously drifting back to the guqin.

"We'll bring the guqin back with us," Luo Binghe said around the tenth time Shizun's eyes drifted to it before snapping back to his meal.

Shizun blinked at him. "What? Why?"

"Because you like it."

Shizun gave it a quick glance out of the corner of his eye. "...I'm not sure I do," he said.

Luo Binghe brought it back anyway.

Shen Yuan couldn't say that the current trips were worse than the monster hunts had been—he was consistently coming home in one piece, for starters, which was an undeniable improvement—but they were certainly stranger. Every location was a recycled romantic subplot, and Luo Binghe seemed determined to be a tour guide to each of them. Shen Yuan spent the entirety of each trip on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Luo Binghe's plan to be revealed, for something to go wrong…but nothing happened. At all.  

How was it possible for something to be so nerve-wracking, and at the same time so mind-numbingly boring? 

And then Luo Binghe had made him play the guqin. 

As he'd played, he'd been transported to a serene bamboo room. There had been fine paintings on the walls and tasteful, elegant decor, and for the first time in who-knows-how-long he'd felt calm. Relaxed. Safe.

It was a real place, he was certain of it, and he'd suddenly missed it so much that it was a physical pain in his chest. 

Bringing the guqin home had felt like bringing that pain home, too. Memories of playing it frequently leaked into Shen Yuan's thoughts: performing a song in front of a sea of young, excited faces; showing a young woman (Ning Yingying, his mind whispered) how to play a scale; and experimenting with different variations of a sad melody as the moon shone overhead and wind rustled the bamboo around him. He'd been tormented by the original good's nightmares, before—scenes of the Qiu estate and his time as Luo Binghe's Shizun—but this was different.

If Luo Binghe's plan was to force him to regain the original good's memories, it might be working—though that didn't explain the romantic settings they seemed to continually find themselves in. 

Some kind of elaborate poison still seemed like Binghe's most likely goal. If it was, Shen Yuan at least had one person on his side that he could ask for advice. He headed towards the medical wing again, but this time he stayed in the tunnels all the way to Mu Qingfang's room. There was a convenient entrance panel in the main room, and Shen Yuan opened it, then popped his head through.

"Hello, Mu-shidi," he said.

In hindsight, perhaps he should have knocked first. 

The jar Mu Qingfang instinctively flung at him was easy enough to dodge, but Mu Qingfang's startled yell might have attracted attention, and the needles he was pulling out of his sleeve would almost certainly do some damage. Shen Yuan prepared to duck back into the passage, but then Mu Qingfang paused.

"Shen Y—" Mu Qingfang started, and then Shen Yuan's words registered. He inhaled sharply. "Shen Qingqiu. You remember."

"Ish," said Shen Yuan.

"How much? Your life on Qing Jing? The trial? Or…" He trailed off awkwardly.

"Yes, yes, and yes—I know what happened in the Water Prison." Shen Yuan didn't have time for this. If he was caught sneaking in here, it would all be over. "Did Luo Binghe—"

But Mu Qingfang was already kneeling, then bowing, his forehead touching the ground. "Shen-shixiong, this lowly one has failed you as a physician. I accept my failures, and apologize for my part in what you've been through," he said solemnly.

"What are you doing?" This wasn't what Shen Yuan wanted! He scrambled into the room and tried to pull Mu Qingfang back to his feet, but the other man remained stubbornly prone. "Shidi! Get up! This isn't necessary."

"At the trial, I helped condemn you without fully understanding what was planned for your imprisonment." Mu Qingfang's face twisted with guilt. "Even now, I've helped hurt you. I treat your wounds only for you to be sent out to be mangled again and again, and when I tried to tell you of your origins—"

"Binghe stopped you with the blood parasites, I know."

Mu Qingfang paused. His eyes sharpened. "...'Binghe?' You're on friendly terms?"

Not that Shen Yuan wanted to get into the weirdly romantic-flavored specifics of it, but…"Maybe? Or maybe he's trying to poison me. That's why I'm here." Shen Yuan launched into a quick recap of the past few weeks. As he described the strange trips, Mu Qingfang slowly got to his feet and began to frown.

"—and in each place he kept pushing food at me. I know he discussed qi poisons with you—"

"You heard that?" Mu Qingfang stared at him in growing horror. "How long have you been in my floor?"

"I come and go. Did you give him anything? Or recommend anything to him? I'm not mad if you did, I just need to know what's coming."

Mu Qingfang shook his head. "There's nothing he could give you that would be both strong enough to be effective and subtle enough that you wouldn't notice. Can Shen-shixiong really not think of any other motive Luo Binghe might have for treating him to walks in beautiful locations, and plying him with fine food and wine?" 

"So you don't think he's trying to poison me?"

"...You haven't entirely recovered your mind, have you."

Shen Yuan sighed. "I know the relevant details. Why?"

"The Shen-shixiong I knew was more worldly," Mu Qingfang said. "Perhaps it's best this way. Just…keep your distance from him as much as you can." He thought for a moment. "If you have access to secret passageways, can you escape?"

"If I tried, Luo Binghe would use his blood parasites to find and stop me."

"What about getting a message to Cang Qiong? Could you do that?"

"Cang Qiong is still standing?" He thought for sure Luo Binghe would have leveled it by now, but perhaps his arrival had changed that aspect of the timeline. At the thought that it was all still there—that everyone was okay—something in him that he hadn't even realized was tense finally unclenched. 

That meant Yue Qingyuan was still alive, too. Shen Yuan swallowed, his chest feeling suddenly tight. He didn't even know the man, but that felt important, somehow. 

"It is," Mu Qingfang said slowly. "...You thought your home was destroyed? And you were alright with that?"

"Not being alright with it wouldn't have changed anything," Shen Yuan said. "And yes, I can get a message out of Huan Hua. But Mu-shidi, whatever you're planning, it won't work. Binghe will win. He always does."

Mu Qingfang looked at him with something like pity in his eyes. "Do you really believe that?"

"I know that. It's best to focus your efforts on hugging his thighs and making him happy. If you do it well enough, he might let you live."

"Is that what you're doing, Shen-shixiong?" Mu Qingfang turned towards his desk. "Whether it'll work or not, I have to try something. Wait one moment."

When Shen Yuan left, it was with Mu Qingfang's note to Cang Qiong in his pocket. It wasn't hard to slip it to Li Xiaowen along with a veiled threat as to what would happen if it didn't get to its intended destination. 

Shen Yuan felt certain it would get there, though what good it would do remained to be seen.

Luo Binghe hadn't visited this section of his harem in years. And why would he? The women here were, by all reports, doing well and were generally disinclined to cause drama. He had a handful of children who resided here, but they hadn't been performing well enough or poorly enough to merit his personal attention. 

"My Lord! We weren't expecting you," said Mei Hua, hurrying to stand and bow as he walked into her garden. She was one of his wood spirit wives, and so it was a very nice garden, though after his recent trip he couldn't help but notice that it didn't quite compare to the majesty of her original grove. 

Mei Hua was as beautiful as ever with her flowering, branch-like antlers and her soft green skin, but the silk dress and the matronly bun that her wild, leafy hair had been tied into made her almost unrecognizable. She hadn't been wearing anything when he'd first met her, nor had she during his subsequent visits. None of the grove spirits had—they'd always been as free as the wind itself. It had been his favorite thing about them.

There was a child playing nearby, but at Binghe's arrival she ran to her mother and clung to her, staring at Binghe with wide, frightened eyes.

"Go inside," Mei Hua said, gently prying the child's fingers from her dress and shooing her toward the nearby building. "Hurry along, and ask your aunt for a treat. You can tell her I said it's alright."

The child nodded reluctantly and headed for the house, but not before shooting Binghe one last suspicious look.

Mei Hua saw the look, too, and sighed. She waited until the child was out of sight, then turned back to Binghe and began to peel off her clothes. "My apologies," she said. "If I'd known you were coming I would have found someone to watch her, and would have made myself presentable in advance."

Was that what had happened during his previous visits? Had her nudity and wild tresses been a show for him, to remind him of the time they'd met? "There's no need," Luo Binghe said, holding up a hand to stop her. "You may keep your clothes on, unless you feel more comfortable without them. I know you used to."

She hesitated, then pulled her robes back on. "I'll admit, I've gotten used to being clothed. It's easier to navigate court that way," she said, and she smiled, but instead of the uninhibited grin he remembered, it was the same practiced, polite smile that his noble wives used. 

Perhaps that, too, made it easier to navigate court.

The thought was sad, though Luo Binghe couldn't quite put his finger on why. Life was about changing and adapting, after all. At least she and her sisters were safe, sheltered, and fed. There were scores of people who'd live their whole lives without being so lucky. 

"I'm just here to check in on you," he said. "How is your daughter?"

"Daughters."

"Pardon?"

"You've been generous enough to grace me with two daughters, my Lord," she said, her head bowed respectfully. "The oldest is with her tutors right now."

"And they're both doing well?"

"Yes, my Lord. The youngest hasn't started her schooling yet, but my oldest has begun to read and write, and she shows a gift for painting."

"As to be expected from any child of yours," Luo Binghe said, and Mei Hua's smile warmed into something more genuine. "Speaking of which, how has your own painting been going? If you have any new pieces I'd enjoy seeing them." And possibly taking one or two back to Shen Yuan to prove that the grove artists were still active.

But at his words, her smile fell. "I haven't done anything recently, but I can start one if that's my Lord's wish."

"You haven't been painting?"

"I wasn't aware that I was supposed to be. I'm sorry," she said, and she was beginning to look alarmed. 

Luo Binghe frowned. The sense that something was wrong here was becoming more and more difficult to ignore. "You're not in trouble—I'm just trying to understand. Before you met me, you painted for the joy of it. What changed?"

"I have responsibilities now. What time and energy isn't taken up by the various duties of court life is spent on the children."

That made sense, Luo Binghe supposed. And motherhood was a gift, wasn't it? "So your children are your art, now?"

"As you say, my Lord," she said, and her smile was so fake that it hurt to look at. "If my Lord does need a painting, there are local artists I'd be happy to recommend. I still enjoy looking at art, even if I no longer have the luxury of making it myself."

"Perhaps," Luo Binghe said. It wouldn't be as good as getting art from one of the wood spirits, but he needed something that would impress Shizun. "I'm in need of a gift, but the recipient has been…difficult. I've taken him to see beauty and wonders beyond compare, and yet the only thing he's liked so far has been a salamander. What do you get a person like that?"

"A salamander, probably."

Luo Binghe opened his mouth to dismiss the idea, then paused. He thought of the courting gifts he'd collected so far: expensive hair ornaments and rare incense and beautiful furs that Shizun should love, perhaps even more so now that he'd been forced to live without them. But perhaps Luo Binghe should hold onto those for later. 

If Shizun wanted monsters, then Luo Binghe would give him monsters.

When Shen Yuan returned to his courtyard, he found Luo Binghe already waiting there, looking around at the high-end furnishings with narrowed eyes. 

Shen Yuan froze. For a moment he was sure that Binghe was angry, that the luxuries Shen Yuan had worked so hard for were about to be ripped away from him, that the end to his freedom had finally come, but—

"I'm sorry, is that a salamander?" Shen Yuan said, staring at the frantically wriggling creature in Luo Binghe's arms. 

"It's the one from the garden," Luo Binghe said. "I was going to offer to put it in one of my personal ponds, and give you permission to visit whenever you wanted, but it seems you have one of your own." He didn't look thrilled about that, but on the bright side, he also wasn't threatening to take it away. 

The salamander had seen the pond, too, and began to struggle in earnest. It was the size of a large dog, and while it wasn't strong enough to break Luo Binghe's hold, it was long enough that its tail kept flicking up to smack him on the back of the head. 

"Stop that," snapped Binghe. The salamander squirmed harder. Slap, slap, slap, went the tail.

Shen Yuan couldn't help his grin. He pulled out his fan to cover it, not wanting to offend Binghe, but he wasn't fast enough. 

Luo Binghe spotted his smile, and brightened. "You like it."

He'd actually been laughing at Binghe's increasingly slimy hair, but…"I do," Shen Yuan said. "Though I think the salamander would prefer it if you let it down, now."

"Then the salamander and I have one thing in common." Luo Binghe walked over to the pond and unceremoniously dropped it in. It hit the water with a splash, and within moments had swum to the bottom of the deepest end of the pond.

The courtyard pond wasn't as deep or murky as the garden's, though, so it was still possible to see it, its red eyes gleaming and its tail whipping around in agitation. After a minute it seemed to calm, blinking at its new home with curiosity, and then opening its mouth to snap up a passing fish.

"Was that a Golden Gem-scaled Koi?" Luo Binghe asked, watching the salamander swallow down its—very expensive, very rare—meal.

Shen Yuan nodded.

"I didn't realize there were any outside of the Southern Water Elementals' royal gardens."

"There won't be for long." A visiting dignitary had probably left some in the pond as a show of goodwill, but the salamander would likely slurp them all up within the hour. Shen Yuan would have to look for alternate food for it after that, which was a detail he was happy to take care of—but why had Luo Binghe brought him something like this in the first place? "Is there a reason you brought me the salamander?" 

"It's a gift," Luo Binghe said, which—

"I can see that," Shen Yuan said. "Why?"

"I'd considered many possible gifts," Luo Binghe said. "But when I thought about what you liked—what you'd actually enjoyed, not just what you should have enjoyed—it was the monsters. I'm right, aren't I?"

Shen Yuan nodded slowly. "You're right that I enjoy monsters, but I still don't understand. Why give me anything at all?"

"You don't think I'm such a cheap suitor that I wouldn't give you any courtship gifts, do you?"

"Of course I wouldn't—wait, did you say 'suitor?'" Shen Yuan couldn't have heard that correctly. 

"You'll like this next place," Luo Binghe said. He summoned a portal, grabbed Shen Yuan's hand, and pulled him through before he could ask any more questions.

Shen Yuan did, in fact, like the next place. He knew where they were the second they stepped through the portal, and even Luo Binghe's strange and startling words about courtship couldn't detract from the awe he felt when he looked out into the Aviary of the Ancients.

It belonged to an unknown race of giants who'd lived who-knew-how-many years ago, and although the creators had long since died out, many of the fantastical flying creatures they'd raised had kept the tower as their home. There were razor-toothed bats, an entire flock of armored albatross, and not one but three different species of dragons…and that was just on the first level. The tower spiraled so high into the sky that it towered over the clouds, and the upper floors could only be inhabited by demonic creatures who were able to breathe in thin air. 

"Oh," said Shen Yuan, looking around in awe at the creatures covering every perch and nook. The outer walls were a series of columns, opening the room to the sky and giving him a view not just of the sea below them, but of the animals hunting for fish, and the animals hunting those animals, and so on. It was an entire ecosystem, and Airplane had barely touched on it (having been more interested in covering the hidden threat lurking in the basement, and he should probably give Binghe a heads up about that at some point), and now Shen Yuan was here and he could see everything.  

"Is that a Spore-Bound Sparrow?" he said, pointing excitedly. "I think that's a Spore-Bound Sparrow!"

The small, mushroom riddled creature shied away from Shen Yuan's finger, but didn't otherwise react. There weren't many humans around the tower, and the creatures of the aviary hadn't learned to fear them—or prey on them. For the most part, anyway. There were a couple demonic raptors whose approach to new things was to try taking a bite out of it and go from there, but he'd be safe with Binghe here.

"Would you like to explore?" Luo Binghe asked. He was watching Shen Yuan's face closely, and whatever he saw there seemed to please him. He was smiling this proud, smug smile that shouldn't have been attractive, and yet…

Shen Yuan recalled Luo Binghe's earlier words and blushed. 

What was Luo Binghe playing at? The idea that Luo Binghe would court him, a man, was impossible enough, but he was Shen Qingqiu! The scum villain! The Shizun Luo Binghe had sworn revenge on—and had achieved, at least partially. Why would he treat his enemy with kindness, let alone court him?

This had to be part of some sort of plan. Maybe it was to fluster Shen Yuan to death, and it might be successful judging by how fast his heart was suddenly beating.

But even if Luo Binghe was planning something awful (or maybe especially if he was planning something awful) Shen Yuan couldn't pass up the opportunity to enjoy a place like this. There were so many cool creatures, and while reading about them had been fun, seeing them in the flesh was so much cooler. As they explored further into the tower, Shen Yuan found himself practically babbling, pointing out each new wonderous monster and word-vomiting details from the fan-wiki into poor Binghe's ear.

"—and its bones aren't just hollow, they're filled with qi-sensitive fluid that can counteract its weight! Or be used as an aphrodisiac, but the less said about that the better," Shen Yuan said, gesturing at the gigantic form of the feathered serpent that was coiled up in front of them. It had raised its head and flicked its tongue out to taste the air when they'd first entered the room, but a flare of Luo Binghe's qi had been enough to discourage anything more. 

"Would you like to ride it?" Binghe asked.

"What? Wait, are you serious?" Shen Yuan looked between the serpent and Binghe, who was smiling, but not in a joking way. "Absolutely."

The serpent wasn't thrilled about Luo Binghe prodding it out of its coil and dragging it by the feathers towards the edge of the room, but it was smart enough—or scared enough—not to fight it. It held still as Luo Binghe jumped onto its back in between its first pair of wings and then held a hand down for Shen Yuan to grab. Shen Yuan was perfectly capable of jumping onto its back on his own, but only because he'd been practicing his cultivation in secret. He should need help, and so he accepted the hand, making sure to scramble awkwardly at the serpent's scales as Binghe pulled him up. 

"Don't worry, I've got you," Binghe practically purred into his ear as he seated Shen Yuan in front of him, his hands on Shen Yuan's hips to hold him steady. "I won't let you go."

Shen Yuan shivered, but there was no time to dwell on the implied promise and threat of that—the serpent, responding to a nudge from Binghe's foot, lunged out of the room and into the sky. There was a heart stopping moment of free fall that had Shen Yuan's stomach in his throat, then the serpent's wings snapped open, and suddenly they were gliding smoothly along, each of the serpent's four pairs of wings beating in sequence to create a gentle rolling motion across the length of its body.

"Oh," said Shen Yuan.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Binghe said softly.

It was. There were low clouds below them that formed a soft looking carpet, and above them was the endless expanse of the night sky. Without light pollution it was almost impossibly clear, each star twinkling with a brilliance Shen Yuan had never seen before. 

They weren't alone in the air, either. Other flying creatures swarmed both above and below them, and as soon as it became clear that Luo Binghe wasn't going to stop it from doing so, the serpent began to hunt.

First it stuck to snapping up smaller snacks that were nearby, but then it saw something in the clouds below them. It dropped suddenly, pulling all its wings close to its body and angling itself downward as it torpedoed towards its prey. Shen Yuan gripped its feathers, tightened his legs around its sides, and screamed.

He'd been on a roller coaster once when he was younger. This was similar, only so much better.

"If you're afraid, you can hold on to me," Luo Binghe said, but Shen Yuan was already laughing. For a moment it was easy to forget the stress of his situation in this world, of the weight of all his secrets and fear, and just feel the sheer joy and exhilaration of flight.

He let out a loud whoop as the serpent pulled out of its dive, a giant wolf-bat in its jaws. They were in the clouds, now, the puffs of water vapor swirling wildly around them as the serpent burst through their formations.

Behind him, he heard Binghe huff a small laugh. "You enjoyed that? If it was too much, I can stop—"

"It was fantastic!" Shen Yuan called over his shoulder. He was grinning so hard his cheeks hurt, and at the sight of his expression, Luo Binghe's eyes widened. He could feel Binghe's eyes catch on his lips, then trail up over his flushed cheeks to his eyes, still watery from the rushing wind of their flight.

Luo Binghe leaned forward and reached for Shen Yuan's chin, holding him in place and preventing him from turning back around with a single touch of his finger. Suddenly, the cold air felt too warm.

"Binghe?" he said uncertainly as Binghe's face got even closer, and then their faces were touching—no, their lips were touching, were moving together, Binghe's confident motions echoed without thought by Shen Yuan own mouth.

They were kissing. This was a kiss.

It was fast, so much so that it was over before Shen Yuan had fully realized what was happening. 

Binghe pulled back, smiling triumphantly. He looked like he'd just won a battle, and in a way, Shen Yuan supposed he had. As his heart pounded and his lips tingled and his head spun, he realized that of all the angles of attack Luo Binghe could have chosen, this was the one he had the least defense against. 

He couldn't think of anything to say. His brain had blue screened and hadn't rebooted yet, but Luo Binghe didn't seem to mind. He laughed at Shen Yuan's stunned expression, and began to nudge the serpent back towards the tower.

His lips had been softer than Shen Yuan had imagined they'd be—if he'd ever imaged such a thing, which he hadn't, because he was a guy. But if he had, he'd have imagined they'd be colder and firmer to match Luo Binghe's ruthless personality.

But they'd been gentle and warm. Binghe had been gentle and warm—to him, the scum villain—and that was almost as impossible as the kiss in itself. 

Binghe hated him. 

Shen Yuan touched his lips, his fingers trembling. 

Luo Binghe's plan seemed ludicrously simple now. What would be more humiliating for the scum villain than to fall in love with the disciple he'd looked down on and abused? What would be more satisfying than for Shen Qingqiu to willingly give himself to a man he'd once declared unfit to touch the ground he walked on?

And yet Luo Binghe was wonderful and beautiful, and was looking at him like he was the most important person in the world right now. He was only looking at Shen Yuan because he hated him, but in that moment he couldn't regret the hate, not if it kept Binghe's eyes on him with such intensity. 

Shen Yuan didn't like guys, not like that, but this was Luo Binghe. He'd never been able to say no to even the shoddiest collectible of him, had paid for and devoured thousands upon thousands of words just to be a little closer to him. How was he supposed to resist the real deal, even knowing that failing to do so would lead to his ruin?

That night, once their flight was over—once their date was over—and Luo Binghe had dropped Shen Yuan back off at his room with nothing more than a gentlemanly peck on his cheek, Shen Yuan dreamt of flying.

He was above Qing Jing, his feet precariously balanced on a training sword as he pushed himself higher into the air, ignoring the warning shouts of his instructor and the wobbling of his own knees. No one had thought he'd be able to do this, not after getting such a late start, and not with having such an unstable foundation. The other disciples had laughed at him and looked down on him with derision, and even worse, pity, but here he was. Flying.

He grinned fiercely, and despite the fear he felt like his chest would burst from the joy of it. The other disciples had no idea what he could do because they had no idea what he'd already done, what he'd survived. They thought this was difficult? They didn't know the meaning of the word.

As he pushed higher, and the people below him shrank into dots no larger than ants, he felt a strange peace settle over him. The other disciples were still better than him, but they wouldn't be for long, not at the pace he was progressing. He'd already seen Shizun watching him. The current generation of Peak Lords would be retiring soon, and when they did, Shen Jiu would be ready. 

He stayed in the clouds for as long as he could before reluctantly heading back towards the training grounds. His triumph today wouldn't go unpunished. After the instructor finished praising him, he'd inevitably be cornered alone, and his fellow disciples would vent their jealousy on him with their fists. He didn't begrudge them this. They should enjoy their power over him while they still could.

When he was named the Peak Lord of Qing Jing it would be him looking down on them. They wouldn't be laughing, then. They would be the ones who were frightened, and it would be Shen Jiu who had all the power and who was—finally, at long last—safe.

Waking to find that he was in the Huan Hua Palace and not his bamboo house was an unpleasant shock. After everything he'd been through, he was right back where he'd started—with nothing, with no one, and at the mercy of someone stronger than him. 

He snarled. What had been the point of any of it? If this was all his fighting had gotten him, couldn't he have just stayed put in the Qiu estate? It would have been an equally grim end, but at least it would have been less work.

It took Shen Yuan until halfway through his morning cup of tea to realize that those weren't actually his memories and that there was no reason for him to feel so angry, and that in itself was more upsetting than the original memory ever could have been.

Chapter Text

Luo Binghe had expected that Shizun would like this new monster-forward approach to courtship, but he hadn't been fully prepared for how much he'd like it. Shizun had been impossibly beautiful when he'd smiled at him during their flight, with his flushed cheeks and tousled hair—and when Binghe had kissed him, his hands still on Shizun's waist, and felt Shizun's little gasp of surprised pleasure against his lips, it had taken all of Luo Binghe's willpower not to push him down and have him right then and there on the serpent's back.

But as delicious as Shizun was, having Shizun offer himself first would be infinitely sweeter. So Luo Binghe had reluctantly pulled himself away, and seeing Shizun's dazed and flustered look, both then and when Binghe had given him a quick peck on the cheek while saying goodnight, had made it worth it.

On a whim, he stopped by Mei Hua's garden the next day, this time with a homemade meal to thank her for her advice.

"It's been a while since you cooked for me, my Lord," she said. "Is there a special occasion?"

"Do I need a special occasion to enjoy a meal with my wife?" he asked, smiling. His previous evening with Shizun had put him in a good mood, and nothing could ruin it—not Mei Hua's lukewarm welcome, and not the resentment and fear that he'd seen on the children's faces before Mei Hua had shooed them away. 

"Of course not, my Lord," Mei Hua replied. She smiled in return, and while the perfect politeness of it didn't unsettle him as much as it had the first time he'd seen it, he was suddenly struck by a horrible thought: what if he won Shizun into his harem, and then, as time passed, Shizun's smile turned tepid and fake? His grin last night had been brilliant…but at one point, so had Mei Hua's. 

The thought was intolerable. It was possible Shizun might regain his memories and return to hating him one day, but surely even that was better than this—this faded affection, this nothingness, where before there'd been love. 

But perhaps Mei Hua was an outlier. When their lunch was over, Luo Binghe headed out to make some more surprise visits.

The Little Palace Mistress was thrilled to see him, as was Sha Hualing, though both of them were clearly more interested in what he could do for them than in his company itself—but that was nothing new. After satisfying both their bodies and their desire for political favors, he moved on to wives on the fringe of the harem.

The noble woman he'd saved from the Iron-Winged Terror was surprised, but not thrilled, to see him, though she hid it well enough. The warrior monk he visited after her hid it less well, her whole body fidgeting with barely suppressed impatience as he tried and failed to engage her in conversation.

"We've never talked before," she said, frowning at him when he pushed for more information on her interests, trying to find any sort of common ground with this stranger who, according to the records, he'd been married to for almost five years. "We met while fighting a Poisonous Porcupine Shambler. I got hit by a quill coated in an aphrodisiac. You helped me dual cultivate through it, married me the next day, and haven't visited me since. Just tell me why you're here so I can get back to my training."

She had been in the middle of a rather intense training session when he'd interrupted. "I just wanted to see how you were," he said truthfully. "I'm glad you're still pursuing your cultivation."

She snorted. "Yeah, for all the good it'll do me here."

Then there were the wives that were a little too happy to see him. "I thought you'd forgotten about me," said a water demon whose name he couldn't quite recall. She clutched desperately at his robes. "Do you remember when you took me to the Infinite Falls? Wasn't that romantic? Would you like to go there again?"

"He's not here because he favors you," her twin sister said, rolling her eyes. "He's visiting all the forgotten wives. Haven't you heard?"

"That's a lie! He's here because loves me!" the first sister shouted. She swung her claws at her twin's face, and Luo Binghe was forced to step in to prevent the violence from escalating. 

They'd been powerful opponents, once. Their family had put them in charge of guarding an ancient artifact that he'd needed, and seduction had been the fastest way through them. He wasn't cruel, though—he'd taken responsibility for them afterwards and ensured they'd lived comfortable lives. He'd been proud of his actions, when he'd thought of them at all, which wasn't often.

Now, watching the tears roll down the face of one twin while the other stared at him with bitter resignation, he couldn't help but wonder: were they truly better off for having married him? If he'd left them behind, they would have hated him, rightfully so, but they also would've had the chance to move on and find others who returned their feelings. 

And as to if they'd have been better off if he'd never met them at all…that answer seemed distressingly obvious. 

"Are my wives happy?" he asked Ning Yingying later, after having surveyed a decent chunk of his harem and found results that were mixed at best. 

Ning Yingying was First Wife, with all the power and responsibility that went with that. If there was unrest in the harem, she'd know.

"A-Luo, what's this about?" She must have heard about his visits to everyone—news traveled fast in the harem—and the look she gave him as she poured him tea was equal parts exasperated and concerned. "You provide well for your wives, you know that."

He did, but…"That's not what I asked. Are they happy?"

It was a question that would have been easy to brush off, but to Ning Yingying's credit, she didn't. She thought about it, and although as a cultivator her face hadn't aged since they were young, she suddenly looked much older to Luo Binghe's eyes. 

"What's happiness at the end of the day but a fleeting feeling?" she said, and for a moment Luo Binghe could see her too-serious face overlaid with that of her childhood self, laughing and bright with excitement as she talked about everything and nothing all at once. "But many are content, and that's something that can last. The ones with higher ambitions often struggle to adjust to their new lives, but there's nothing much that can be done about that. They'll settle in eventually. They always do."

That they didn't have a choice otherwise went left unsaid. The unease in Luo Binghe's stomach grew stronger. 

"Send some extra servants to help Mei Hua with her children. I want her to have time to paint," Luo Binghe said. He got up to leave, his tea untouched.

"Of course. How many paintings would you like her to make for you? I'll deliver your instructions along with the necessary supplies."

"No instructions. Let her do as she will." He could only hope she'd do something, if only to quiet his own growing sense of regret.

He passed Ning Yingying's children—their children, he supposed—on his way out. They bowed their little heads respectfully as he passed, which was the correct thing to do, and shouldn't have left him feeling as cold and empty as it did.

Shen Yuan tended to the plant body almost every day. From the cautious bursts of qi he sent into the soil, he could feel that it was growing well, and was fast approaching the stage where it wouldn't need as much oversight. Soon it would be big enough to fend off weeds and small predators with its own natural defenses, and there was more than enough sunlight to nourish it, and plenty of rain to keep it watered. 

He just hoped there wasn't too much rain. Over-watering plants was a thing, right? He'd never successfully kept a house plant alive for more than a week, but he felt like he'd heard that somewhere. This was the plant's native forest, though, so it should be okay.

Hopefully.

Even as his presence at the plant became less and less needed, he continued to visit regularly. Feeling his escape route grow was a comfort and a distraction from whatever it was that Luo Binghe was doing.

Shen Yuan touched his lips, his whole body flushing hot and then cold at the memory of the kiss. Despite being so short, it had felt good. Really good.

That shouldn't be a surprise—this was Luo Binghe, after all. Of course he was good! So good that even a straight man like Shen Yuan would be into it! So good that it felt amazing despite Binghe faking it—and how hard must that have been for him? He must have had to steel his heart to do such a thing, even in the name of revenge!

The real question was: what was Shen Yuan going to do about it?

He should probably play it cool and aloof. The longer he could draw out the courtship, the more time his plant had to grow. In theory, that would be easy—Luo Binghe, as seductive as he was, was still a guy. 

In practice, Luo Binghe's kisses were even more OP than Shen Yuan had bargained for.

The next date—and Shen Yuan could no longer deny that they were dates—was to the Holy Mausoleum to see the Mummified Panther-Drakes. It was stupidly fun, and after Shen Yuan helped Luo Binghe figure out the solution to the deadly trapped floor puzzle (Binghe had simply brute-forced it his first time through), he pulled Shen Yuan into a knee-melting celebratory kiss. 

"Shen Yuan is so clever," Luo Binghe said, pulling back from the kiss to smile at Shen Yuan. His smile was so beautiful and his lips were still right there, and with the adrenaline from solving the dangerous puzzle racing through Shen Yuan's veins and the pleasure from the kiss tingling up his spine, it took everything he had not to lean forward and keep going. Luo Binghe paused, as if waiting, but when Shen Yuan only stood there he pulled away.

He was still smiling—more smugly, now—and Shen Yuan wondered how wrecked his own face must have looked to inspire such an expression.

The date after that was even better. Luo Binghe took him to a lava-filled cavern to see the fiery ecosystem there, and best of all, he didn't seem to mind when Shen Yuan ranted about the monsters. If anything, he seemed entertained by it. 

"...which is why using their pelts to keep warm in the winter is ridiculous," Shen Yuan said as they walked past the sleeping pride of fire lions. "Just look at them! The male's mane is just flames! Why would the local demon tribe use that as clothing?"

"It does look rather striking," Binghe pointed out, smiling. 

Of course Binghe would think so—he'd married a demoness from that tribe after she'd greeted him in a skimpy two-piece made of the stuff. "Striking is one word for it," Shen Yuan conceded. "Idiotic is another. I know the local demons have fire-proof skin, but what about their hair? Do they walk around smelling of burning pubic hair all day?"

"Only the first time they wear it. Consistent use tends to discourage re-growth."

Well, he would know. "But why not wear a pelt from the female lions? So long as it was fashioned into conventional clothing, it would be perfectly warm. The whole thing is just a flimsy excuse to run around practically nude!"

Luo Binghe laughed. 

"What?" Shen Yuan was monologuing again, wasn't he? "Ah, sorry, I—"

"It's fine. You just…you sound like you did before you lost your memory." He gave Shen Yuan a wry look. "I have to admit, your sharp tongue is amusing when it's directed at someone else."

Shen Yuan blinked. He sounded like Shen Qingqiu? But that was just his angry internet commenter voice!

If being reminded of his old Shizun dampened his spirits, Binghe didn't show it. After they'd finished touring the underground volcano, he caught, killed, and cooked one of the magma boars for them to enjoy. Shen Yuan was so distracted by the swarms of smoke bats above them that he took a bite of it without any of his customary fear curdling his stomach, and—

Oh.

It was so good.

He made an involuntary, choked groan, closing his eyes for a moment to savor the taste. It was sweet and so tender that it practically melted in his mouth, which honestly didn't seem like it should even be possible. The boar had actual lava flowing across its skin! Shouldn't its meat have been pre-cooked, or if it was that resistant to heat, so tough as to be uncookable? But Binghe had managed, as he always did.

When Shen Yuan swallowed and opened his eyes, it was to see Luo Binghe watching him with a rapt, hungry expression, as if he wanted to eat up Shen Yuan instead of the meal in front of them. "You like it," he said triumphantly, then leaned across the plates of food and captured Shen Yuan's mouth in a fierce kiss.

"Of course," Shen Yuan said when they broke apart, and his voice was breathless to his own ears. "Luo Binghe is an incredible cook. I've said as much in the past."

"But this time you mean it."

"It's the best thing I've ever tasted," Shen Yuan admitted, and then Luo Binghe was kissing Shen Yuan again, hard. It was different this time—desperate and rough. Luo Binghe's fangs slipped more than once, biting sharply into Shen Yuan's lips in a way that bordered on being painful and had no business being as hot as it was. 

When the kiss ended, Luo Binghe's cheeks were flushed and his eyes were wide, as if he was startled by his own reaction. Shen Yuan wasn't doing much better—he was gasping for breath, and when he tried to smooth out his robes and hair (both of which were mussed from where Binghe had grabbed him during the kiss) his hands were shaking.

Shen Yuan had kissed a few girls in his previous life, but it hadn't been anything like that.

"I can cook for Shen Yuan more, if he'd like it," Luo Binghe said, his voice rough, and—

"Yes," Shen Yuan said.

Shen Yuan dreamed of Luo Binghe's cooking.

Binghe was still just a boy, but the meal he was holding looked good enough to put most professional chefs to shame. There was fried fish, hot tea (properly steeped this time, by the smell of it), and a delicate dessert, all arranged in a way designed to please and entice. He'd clearly spent a lot of time on it. 

What a waste.

Shen Yuan sneered—first at the food, and then at the boy. Did he think his Shizun was so easily bribed that a few bites to eat would be enough to win his favor? That might have worked on Shen Jiu—who was always so hungry, so desperate—but Shen Qingqiu was better than that. Ever since he'd learned inedia, food no longer had a hold over him.

He moved to smash the offending tray to the ground, then paused. He'd done this before, hadn't he?

He had.  

Shen Qingqiu staggered back from the boy as his memories came flooding in—smashing Luo Binghe's food tray to the ground, throwing him into the Abyss, being framed by him during the sham trial. And…the Water Prison.

His breath caught in his throat. Was this another dream realm construction? But no—it was too vague, too fuzzy around the edges. This dream was his own mind, his own memories. 

The child-Binghe's eyes were guileless as they stared up at him expectantly, hopefully. "Shizun?" he asked.

"Get away from me," Shen Qingqiu snapped. The little beast's face was so innocent, so young, but he knew what was underneath it, now. He'd seen how it would grin while it tore his limbs from his body.

He'd seen how it would smile when it kissed him.

Shen Qingqiu collapsed, his legs shaking too hard to hold him. He could feel how soft those cruel lips had been, how they'd coaxed little gasps from him, how they'd sent shivers of pleasure through him until he'd been putty in the creature's hands.

He hadn't just kissed the demon—he'd enjoyed it. Even now he could feel some part of him warm at the thought, at the anticipation of more.

Shen Qingqiu wanted to scream (and he might have, judging by the shocked expression on dream-Binghe's face). How could he be so foolish, so pathetic? Were a few crumbs of affection really all it took to make him forget that the beast was evil?

He wasn't evil, though, was he? Another part of himself—the same part that yearned so shamelessly for the beast's touch—reared its head in offense at the idea. Luo Binghe was heroic! He saved people, and he was clever, and strong, and—

And he'd ripped Shen Qingqiu's limbs off!

Yes. Binghe had. But, his mind whispered, hadn't he deserved it? Hadn't it been so satisfying to see the scum villain get what was coming to him?

"Shizun!" The dream-beast was closer, now, a terrified look on its face. "Shizun, I think you're having a qi—"

"—deviation," Mu Qingfang said, and his face was so close that Shen Qingqiu instinctively flinched away—or tried to. His back was flat against a bed, and there was someone holding him in place.

It was the beast. He was all grown up now, and was staring down at Shen Qingqiu with a frown that sent instinctive shivers of terror down his spine. Even worse, he had an iron grip on both of Shen Qingqiu's upper arms—and for a moment Shen Qingqiu held his breath, bracing himself for the mind-rending pain of having them ripped from his body again. But the beast only held him there, forcing him to remain still while Mu Qingfang worked. The calming qi Mu Qingfang was sending him was helping his deviation, but it wasn't strong enough to counteract the horror of being so close to the demon who'd tortured him. He thrashed harder, kicking out at Luo Binghe, and managed to hit him in the ribs with his knee.

Luo Binghe didn't budge (because of course he didn't, because Luo Binghe was the protagonist! How could the scum villain ever hope to push him around now?) but it was satisfying to hear him hiss in pain.

"Get off!" Shen Qingqiu yelled, and kneed him again.

"Can't you sedate him?" Luo Binghe asked through gritted teeth.

Mu Qingfang shook his head. "I need him awake to stabilize his mind. Shen Yuan, do you understand me? If so, I need you to relax."

Shen Yuan? "Who are you talking to?" Shen Qingqiu snapped. "My name is—" 

He stopped.

Oh.  

The fight went out of him all at once. He went limp, and the healing qi began to flow through him more quickly. It soothed his meridians, and his body calmed, but his mind...

He blinked at the ceiling. Up until a few seconds ago, he'd been Shen Qingqiu. And now he wasn't.

...Right?

"Your name is…?" Luo Binghe prompted. His hands tightened where they gripped Shen Yuan's arms.

"Shen Yuan. I'm Shen Yuan," Shen Yuan whispered. And he was. He could remember a whole life as Shen Yuan…he just was beginning to remember a decent chunk of one as Shen Qingqiu, too. But surely that just made him Shen Yuan with some extra memories?

He tried to ignore the part of him that insisted it actually made him Shen Qingqiu with some extra memories, because that was frankly too horrifying to contemplate. 

Luo Binghe nodded. "Good. I'm glad you remember your name. We wouldn't want you to lose any more memories, would we?" he said. His voice was light, but his smile didn't quite reach his eyes, and when Mu Qingfang was done, Luo Binghe pulled the healer out of the room for a whispered conversation.

If Shen Yuan hadn't been practicing his cultivation in secret, he wouldn't have been able to hear them. But he had been, and he could.

"He's remembering, isn't he?" Luo Binghe said. "He was about to say his name was Shen Qingqiu, and I saw his face—he was furious. Frightened. He hated me."

"Was that not the goal of tearing off his limbs?" Mu Qingfang asked.

Luo Binghe snarled. "Don't get smart with me. This isn't what I want—not right now. How do I stop it?"

"Keep him calm. Avoid putting him in stressful situations—"

"He was sleeping in his bed when he deviated! And no, I wasn't messing with his dreams. What could possibly be lower stress than that?"

"I wasn't finished. Keep him out of stressful situations, and give him some space. You're a significant reminder of his old life. The more you stay away from him, the less chance he'll have of remembering."

Luo Binghe gave a short, humorless laugh. "It's funny how your prescription just happens to line up with your own interests," he said. "I suppose I should be thankful you're not just telling me to release you both back to Cang Qiong."

"Would you listen if I did? Being at peace in his own home would help him more than anything you can do for him here. If you truly cared for him—and don't give me that look, I know you've deluded yourself into thinking that you do—then you'd put his well-being above your personal satisfaction, and you'd let him go."

"That's not going to happen," Luo Binghe snapped.

"I never thought it would."

Luo Binghe had been making congee for Shizun's breakfast when he'd felt his blood parasites activate, warning him that someone under his control was in imminent danger. It had been an unpleasant surprise when they'd led him to Shizun's room, and an even worse surprise when Shizun had opened his eyes in Mu Qingfang's office and been…Shen Qingqiu. His old self.

Mu Qingfang insisted that he hadn't recovered his memories, but Luo Binghe had seen Shizun's face. If his memories weren't back, they would be soon. 

The thought should have been satisfying. He'd finally get to see Shen Qingqiu's humiliation as he realized everything he'd done in the past few months: happily sweeping Binghe's floors, being bullied by children, and having his cultivation reduced to that of a novice.

...And loving Binghe—to the point of being willing to sacrifice his own life for him. And kissing him, and praising him wholeheartedly with that gentle, proud smile on his face.

The idea of Shizun being horrified by it all no longer sounded quite so fun. 

Binghe had been prepared for Shizun to regret their romance. He hadn't, however, expected to enjoy their time together quite so much. The way Shizun's eyes would light up when he saw a new monster was surprisingly charming, as was the way he'd forget himself and begin to rant when talking about something he was passionate about, and oh—the way he'd use that sharp tongue to dissect things that displeased him was incredibly entertaining now that Binghe himself wasn't the target. Luo Binghe found that he didn't want to lose that just yet. 

Mu Qingfang's suggestion to give Shizun space was out of the question. If Luo Binghe only had limited time with this kind version of his Shizun, then he was going to savor every moment of it.

"I made you breakfast," Luo Binghe said, placing the tray on the table next to Shizun's bed. He was still recuperating in Mu Qingfang's office, and probably would be for the rest of the day. "You'd mentioned yesterday that you'd enjoy having more of my cooking, so I prepared a meal for us to share."

Shizun had been unusually quiet since he'd woken up. His hand shook a little as he lifted a spoonful of congee to his lips, but as he tasted it, he smiled.

"It's incredible," he said, and at his words, something in Luo Binghe relaxed. The old Shen Qingqiu would never have accepted his cooking, much less praised it. He was still Shen Yuan, at least for now. 

As he continued to eat, shoveling the congee into his mouth with more enthusiasm than grace, Luo Binghe felt his relief blossom into something warmer and brighter. Shizun didn't just like the food, he loved it. He thought Binghe had done a good job, and suddenly, Binghe needed to hear it again. "Do you mean it? Do you really like it?"

"Surely you can't be insecure about how it tastes," Shizun said, smiling. "Don't you get compliments from your wives?"

He did. "Now that I have power, everyone says nice things about my cooking, and about me," he said. "But it's hard to know what's genuine." 

It was true, if a bit more honest than Binghe had originally intended on being. But his words seemed to strike a chord with Shizun. His eyes widened, and he sat up straighter in the bed.

"Binghe's cooking is fantastic! The best there is!" He flushed, then looked away. "And Binghe is good, too. You wouldn't have gotten this far if you weren't clever and brave. And strong, of course, but you know that."

Other people had said far more flattering things about him, but something about hearing praise from Shizun, his cold cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment, felt different. He wasn't saying it because he wanted something from Binghe, or because he was trying to win his way into Binghe's good graces. Shizun just…liked him.

Luo Binghe was kissing him before he realized he'd moved. Shizun made a small noise of surprise, hesitating, but as Binghe's lips began to move, Shizun seemed to win whatever internal battle he was having. He began to kiss back, softly at first, and then with growing enthusiasm as the kiss deepened.

Until now, Binghe had kept the kisses relatively light—but what was the point of that anymore? He'd wanted to slowly tempt Shizun into begging him into bed, but it was impossible to shake the idea that Shizun could wake up tomorrow and not want him at all. He deepened the kiss, encouraging Shizun to do the same, and yes—Shizun was following his lead, opening his mouth and letting Luo Binghe inside.

Luo Binghe groaned. He could taste Shizun, flavored now with Binghe's own cooking, and it felt like a claim. Shizun tasted like his, was his.

"Binghe, the food—" Shizun said, breaking away with a gasp.

Shizun was still holding the congee, Luo Binghe realized. "I can make more," Luo Binghe said, grabbing the bowl and tossing it. He moved closer, and now Shizun's trembling hands were clutching at his shoulders.

Distantly, he heard the bowl shatter on the floor. "Binghe!" Shizun said, scandalized, before Binghe recaptured his mouth.

Rumor had it that Shizun was an experienced brothel patron, but if he was, it didn't show. His movements were uncertain, almost clumsy, as Binghe climbed into the bed on top of him and pressed their bodies together. His reactions were exaggerated as well—when Binghe turned his attention to Shizun's neck, the man jolted and cried out as if he'd been stuck with a knife. It was as if he'd never had anyone give him pleasure like this before.

Was it simply that he couldn't remember his past experiences? Or were the stories of his lechery fabricated? This wasn't how a man who spent his evenings enjoying prostitutes reacted, and as for his inappropriate relationship with Ning Yingying...

Luo Binghe supposed he hadn't ever seen anything overtly sexual; it was just that Shizun had always been hovering around her, smiling. Who wouldn't see that unnatural expression on his cruel face and assume the worst? Ning Yingying had protested that Shizun's affection for her was purely fatherly, but Binghe had been certain her ignorance was just more evidence of her naivete—and hadn't that been a fight! Convincing her to stay silent while Luo Binghe had spoken of her abuse during the trial had taken all of his skills of persuasion. He'd had to resort to telling her of some of his darkest days in the Abyss to convince her that Shizun really was evil enough to have done it, even if she didn't recognize his advances for what they were at the time.

But perhaps Ning Yingying had been correct. Binghe supposed he owed her an apology—or he would, once he figured out how to explain the current Shizun situation to her. He wasn't looking forward to that conversation, but YingYing was First Wife. It wasn't as if he could bring Shizun into the harem without her knowing.

Shizun was already hard, Luo Binghe realized with a thrill. He slipped his thigh between Shizun's legs, and Shizun shuddered against him, his hips beginning to stutter upwards against Binghe as if he couldn't help himself. 

Could he bring Shizun to completion like this, with nothing more than a mouth on his neck and leg to rub against? He felt suddenly certain that he could. 

"Binghe!" Shizun cried out, and his voice was wrecked—hoarse and broken and breathy. "Ah—"

"Is this how you interpret 'give him some space'?" Mu Qingfang's voice was cold. 

Shizun froze. 

Binghe snarled, then pulled away from him reluctantly to face the healer. "We were in the middle of something," he said.

"Yes, in my office."

"Which is in my palace. You may go now."

"He's not in his right mind! You should be ashamed—" Mu Qingfang's mouth snapped shut as Luo Binghe activated his blood parasites. He could feel the healer struggling to speak even as he used his blood to forcibly march him out of the room.

But when he turned back to Shizun, intending to continue where he'd left off, Shizun was pulling away from him, clearly mortified. 

"I didn't mean to—I just—" Shizun said. He looked away from Binghe, cheeks flaming as he pulled awkwardly at his robes in an almost laughable attempt to hide his own excitement (as if he hadn't been thrusting it against Binghe just moments before). His reaction wasn't surprising—Shizun had always had a thin face—but it was disappointing. 

Binghe sighed and got off the bed, making no effort to hide the evidence of his own arousal. Shizun glanced at him, and his eyes widened as he caught sight of exactly how much Binghe had enjoyed their kiss. 

"I'll let you rest," Binghe said. If Shizun was as new to pleasure as Luo Binghe suspected, then perhaps Mu Qingfang was right, and he really did need some space. "Sleep well, Shen Yuan."

Luo Binghe wouldn't interfere with his sleep—not now, not while Shizun was so fragile—but from the way Shizun flushed an even deeper red, and his eyes darted away and then briefly back to Luo Binghe's crotch, it seemed likely he'd be dreaming of Binghe anyway.

Yue Qingyuan stared down at the note from Mu Qingfang, his fingers shaking as he read it. And then read it again.

It was a world apart from Mu Qungfang's previous neat, calm letters detailing Xiao Jiu's slow but steady improvement. This letter was crumpled, the characters rushed and sloppy, and the contents…

He set it down and turned his attention to the monk who'd delivered it.

"Is it true?" he demanded. The monk hesitated, opened her mouth to protest, but Yue Qingyuan didn't have time for this. "I know you've already read it. You resealed it, but not well. Is it true."

She nodded reluctantly. "I've seen him. His limbs have been reattached, and he's regained his memories, but he's...not quite right. Luo Binghe broke him—is still breaking him."

At Xiao Jiu's trial, Yue Qingyuan had been sick with worry imagining Xiao Jiu's fate. He'd pictured him wasting away, bored and lonely in his prison, and he'd hated it, had argued against it, but against the weight of all the evidence, what could he do? 

He thought he'd done everything he could, but he hadn't, had he? If he'd known what was in store for Xiao Jiu he would have drawn Xuan Su then and there and taken him back to Cang Qiong by force. Instead, he'd wrung his hands and lamented Xiao Jiu's regrettable life choices and had failed to save him. Again. 

But despite what Xiao Jiu believed, Yue Qingyuan had come for him, and always would—even if he was a little bit late.

Chapter Text

The beast was good at kissing—Shen Qingqiu would give him that. Despite his better judgment, he found himself relaxing into the settee he was pressed against, opening his mouth to provide Luo Binghe better access. His legs might have fallen open a little, too, and he'd have been embarrassed by such a shameless action if it didn't feel so good.

It was alright to be a little bit shameless, though. He was home, safe in his house on Qing Jing Peak. He could hear the bamboo forest rustling in the wind outside, and the air was gently scented with the comforting smell of his favorite incense. 

It was a dream—a spring dream, and really, how long had it been since he'd had one of those? The last one had been years ago when he'd been just a disciple, before he'd learned how to use meditation to suppress such things.

Or had it been just months ago, when he'd gone to bed after reading an especially spicy chapter of PIDW?

Perhaps it was both. Did it matter? With Luo Binghe's hands on him and gentle waves of pleasure rolling through him, the contradiction didn't grate against him like it probably should have. The separate halves of himself were united in enjoying this. Shen Jiu hadn't realized another's touch could feel so good, and while Shen Yuan had, his knowledge had been purely theoretical. 

Together, Shen Qingqiu wanted more.

The dream grew hazy after that, an abstract impression of excitement and pleasure made up of what he'd seen in porn and in the yellow manuals he'd confiscated from disciples over the years, and when he woke it was to sticky pants and a sun that was already well over the horizon. He changed quickly, half on autopilot as he waited for the feeling of being Shen Qingqiu to fade as it had in the past. 

And he waited.

And waited.

Eventually, it did fade…a bit. At least, he thought it did. How could he tell for sure, anymore? He was different from the Shen Yuan he'd been when he'd first arrived in this world—he was a little less naive, a little more wily—but that was because of his experiences here.

Or was it because of his experiences as Shen Jiu?

He was late for his chores, but they could wait. He picked up the breakfast tray that one of the maids had left for him, his hands shaking, and went to sit by his pond. 

The salamander was just as cool as ever, which had to mean that he was still Shen Yuan, right? Shen Qingqiu hadn't been fascinated by monsters…other than the extensive section he'd had on them in the library, but that was just because he liked collecting books. Unlike Shen Yuan, who'd collected web novels. They were different.

"It's too early for your dinner, you greedy thing," he told the salamander, who'd come to the surface of the pond and was blinking at him expectantly. The kitchen staff had been happy to provide Shen Yuan with a steady stream of fish for his new pet, and in turn, the salamander had come to associate Shen Yuan's visits with treats. 

The salamander continued to wait. 

"No fish, see?" Shen Yuan said, holding up his empty hands.

The salamander wriggled closer, crawling partway out of the water and giving Shen Yuan a soul-crushingly pitiful look. Shen Yuan contemplated it for a moment. Looking at it like this, it was so pathetic and slimy...

"I think I'll call you Airplane," he said, and tossed it one of his steamed buns. 

He was still feeding it tidbits from his tray when Luo Binghe arrived.

"I see someone already brought you food," Binghe said, frowning at Shen Yuan's tray. He was carrying one of his own, and the smells wafting from it were incredible. Shen Yuan, who hadn't been all that hungry (thus the decision to feed his meal to Airplane) felt his stomach growl.

"It's not as good as yours," Shen Yuan said, which seemed to somewhat mollify Binghe. He sat down next to Shen Yuan, and when Shen Yuan glanced over at him, Binghe met his eyes with what he would have once called an intense expression. Now, with Shen Jiu's insight, he'd call it hungry.

He could feel his face heat as he poured them tea from the tray and began to eat. Until now he'd assumed that Luo Binghe was seducing him solely for revenge, and while revenge still did seem like the most likely end game, it didn't explain how enthusiastically Luo Binghe's body had reacted to their kiss the day before. Just thinking of the heavenly pillar made his heart pound. Why had Airplane (the author, not the salamander) decided to make it so big? It was ridiculous! In a way that was upsetting and definitely not intriguing!

Even if Luo Binghe's physical reaction had been faked, though, what was with the expression he had on his face right now? He'd always played the cool, aloof seducer in PIDW, but at the moment he looked almost desperate.

It made Shen Yuan's spine tingle and his gut tighten. The idea that Binghe might actually want him was intoxicating—not because he was gay, but because this was the protagonist! It was just flattering, was all. Shen Yuan definitely liked women!

But not in that way, whispered the part of himself that he was beginning to think of as Shen Jiu. Which—

What?

He swallowed nervously. He was straight! He'd know if he wasn't. But memories kept swirling in his head, only now they looked slightly different, as if viewed from the outside.

Hadn't he always admired Luo Binghe more than his wives in the official art? 

That was true, but only because Luo Binghe was the coolest! 

…But it went further than that, didn't it? 

"Shen Yuan?" Luo Binghe said.

Shen Yuan stared blankly at the pond, his mind reeling. He'd never really been drawn to girls the same way his classmates had been, which had gotten him praise for being studious right up until he'd graduated, at which point it had begun to earn him worried looks (which made more sense now, in hindsight). He'd just figured he was good at resisting temptation, though! He'd thought that he wasn't driven by his base instincts, unlike his peers! 

Thinking back to how he'd reacted to Luo Binghe's kiss yesterday, the idea was laughable. He wasn't good at resisting temptation—he'd just never been tempted. Even at the brothels, he'd never actually desired any of the flesh on display. He'd just wanted some time away from the other boys in the Qing Jing dormitory, to sleep somewhere that felt safe—

"Shen Yuan!"

Shen Yuan blinked. Luo Binghe was staring at him, concerned. "Do we need to visit Mu Qingfang?" Binghe asked.

"No, I'm sorry, I just—" Shen Yuan shook himself. "I was just thinking, that's all. I'm alright."

Luo Binghe nodded. "If you truly are feeling better, I was wondering if you'd like to meet me in my personal courtyard for dinner tonight? It doesn't have as many monsters as Shen Yuan has become accustomed to, I'm afraid—Mu Qingfang has ordered that you rest, so no trips for now—but I hope my company can make up for the lack."

"...Oh."

Luo Binghe was inviting him on a date. In his courtyard. Next to his bedroom. The implication was impossible to miss now that he had Shen Jiu's insight in addition to his own.

Shen Yuan's face flushed. The thought of doing that with Luo Binghe wasn't entirely objectionable, but what if afterwards Luo Binghe ended this game? What if he tried to use the memory of their time together to hurt and humiliate Shen Yuan, or worse, lost interest in Shen Yuan like he did with all his other conquests? 

So what if he does? He felt something in him snarl with frustration—both at the softer, fearful side of himself, and at Binghe. He'd already survived the worst the beast had to offer, hadn't he? If Luo Binghe wanted to give him pleasure before returning to the torment, then Shen Yuan would be a fool not to enjoy it while it lasted. 

And, if worse came to worst, the plant body was nearly ready. He'd only have to hold on for a little while, and then he could make his escape.

"Yes," Shen Yuan said. "I'd like that."

"I'll come get you this evening, then," Luo Binghe said, smiling.

A shiver of anticipation crawled up Shen Yuan's spine, but—"I'm signed up for kitchen cleaning duty tonight."

"Have Li Xiaowen do it," Luo Binghe said, and his smile turned knowing. "It shouldn't be too much of an imposition, since he already seems to be doing so many of the chores assigned to you on the roster."

Shen Yuan's first stop was the plant body. He brought the gold from the Zhao Hua monk, along with some of the gifts he'd been given by the people he'd helped (a qiankun bag, a water skin, a fan), and buried them next to the base of a nearby tree. He gave the plant itself one more careful burst of qi, then headed off to find Li Xiaowen. 

"Luo Binghe is onto us," he said, stepping out of the tunnels into a storage closet, and from there into the classroom where Li Xiaowen was studying.

Li Xiaowen screamed and dropped the brush he was writing with, splattering ink everywhere. "What—"

"If you have any contingency plans, now might be the time," Shen Yuan said. "He knows you're doing my chores for me, but I don't think he knows why. It's only a matter of time before he figures it out, though. Do you have any lube?"

Li Xiaowen stared at him. 

"Or ointment," Shen Yuan continued when it became clear Li Xiaowen wasn't going to say anything. "I have a date with Binghe later. Hopefully that's all the information you need to understand what I'm after."

Li Xiaowen's face, which had gone pale at his sudden entrance, flushed, and he spluttered. "What—why are you asking me? Ask Mu Qingfang! And what do you mean Luo Binghe is onto us?"

"He'll be looking into whatever I used to blackmail you, and that doesn't end well for either of us—but I suspect I'll have bigger problems by then. And if I ask Mu Qingfang, he'll start yelling at Binghe about consent again." Not that Shen Yuan would ever have the face to ask him directly. It was one thing to ask cannon fodder, another entirely to ask someone he actually respected. His shidi probably did have the best stuff, though…

Shen Yuan thoughtfully tapped his fan on his chin. "You should ask him for me. Say it's for yourself, then deliver it to my door. My actual door, not the closet you put me in when I first woke up."

Li Xiaowen stared at him, eyes bulging as Shen Yuan gave him directions to his new room—and there was no way he missed the fact that it was in a much nicer part of the palace than the disciple quarters. "But—"

"If you do this for me, I'll lie when Binghe asks me what I've got on you. I'll say it's a weird sex thing or something."

"...What kind of weird sex thing?" Li Xiaowen asked reluctantly.

"Your alternative is treason. Does it matter?"

"I'll get you the ointment."

"Before dinner, if you would," Shen Yuan said, then slipped back into the storage closet, and then down into the tunnels. 

As he was walking away he heard Li Xiaowen open the closet door, see the empty room, and whisper, horrified, "He's in the walls."

Shen Yuan had gone on dates with Binghe before, but not like this. Not with these…expectations. If things went the way he thought they would, then this might be his first time. When Li Xiaowen delivered the ointment (and his face when he'd seen Shen Yuan's elaborate suite had been a thing of beauty), Shen Yuan clutched it like a lifeline. It was scary, yes, but this was Binghe. This would be good.  

Unless Binghe didn't want it to be, but he couldn't think too much about that possibility. He could only hope that, whatever revenge Binghe had planned, he saved it until after.

He got ready for the date in a jittery daze, taking a bath, combing out and oiling his hair, and then getting dressed without fully paying attention to what his hands were doing. He found himself gravitating towards a set of the robes he'd been gifted by a tailor (as thank you for curing his impotence, which thanks to PIDW's selection of plants had been his easiest job yet). They were the same black and red as the sets Binghe had provided him, but they were much finer, made of expensive fabric and a frankly ridiculous number of layers, and so he'd set them aside so as not to draw attention to himself. 

There was no point in worrying about that now. He pulled them on, and the silk against his skin felt like coming home. 

He was halfway through doing up his hair when he realized he hadn't put it in his customary ponytail. At some point he'd grabbed another gift, a wooden hair crown (from a cook, for supplying him with a rare and delicious spice) and had pulled his hair half up. He looked regal, he decided, examining his face in the mirror. The only thing that was missing was—

There. He spotted a red ribbon in one of his drawers of trinkets, and he draped it along the crown's pin. That felt right in a way he couldn't quite articulate. 

He was ready. Or—he grabbed the ointment and tucked it into his sleeve. 

Now he was ready.

…But what if Binghe didn't know how to prepare him? He'd certainly never had to use any kind of lubricant with his wives—PIDW had made it clear that their flowers were constantly gushing, to an extent that probably warranted medical attention. Wouldn't it be better to do some of that himself, just to be safe?

He pulled the ointment back out and settled himself onto the bed, loosening his robes and wriggling partway out of his pants. It felt weirdly clinical to scoop out some of the ointment and rub it between his fingers, warming it, before reaching down to carefully, awkwardly, press it into his body.

He grimaced. It was a strange sensation. Not unpleasant, but not pleasant, either.

Doubt began to creep in. Was it even possible for this to feel good? 

His sister's BL novels (which he'd read out of boredom and for no other reason—or so he'd told himself at the time) suggested that it could be pleasurable for the guy on the bottom, but they'd also suggested that refractory periods didn't exist, so their trustworthiness was questionable. He pressed his finger deeper and began to bend it, feeling blindly for that magical spot that always made the characters scream and moan in the stories. It was probably an exaggeration, but if it felt even a little bit good—

He crooked his finger, then shouted as an almost-electric jolt of pleasure shot through his body. 

Okay, maybe it wasn't an exaggeration.

He did it again, and alright, maybe there was nothing to be worried about because if this is what a finger felt like then Luo Binghe was going to feel amazing. Just thinking of it made his whole body flush hot with anticipation. He worked another finger inside, and that was even better. 

He collapsed back onto his bed, kicked off his pants, and closed his eyes, moving his hand as he pictured Luo Binghe's fingers in place of his own. 

Luo Binghe didn't want to wait until dinner to whisk Shizun away to his private courtyard, but that was the shortest amount of time in which he could make an appropriately elaborate meal. He spent most of the day in his personal kitchen, and then there was the table to set, courting gifts to prepare, and his own wardrobe to select. 

It took time, but it was necessary. Tonight might be the only chance he had with Shizun—not only was Shizun recovering his memories on his own, but people were often cured of their ailments after sleeping with Binghe. There was no way to know if Shizun's memory troubles would be solved the same way.

If he only had tonight, then it had to be perfect.

The first polite knock on Shizun's door went unanswered. 

Luo Binghe frowned. His blood parasites meant he could feel that Shizun was still inside the room, but no one was coming to the door. He knocked again, then entered.

There was no one in the main room, but—

"Binghe," Shizun said—no, moaned—from the bedroom. 

Luo Binghe froze. Could Shizun really be doing what it sounded like he was doing?

He swallowed, then began to walk towards the bedroom. He was far from inexperienced, but as he got closer and the soft little noises from the room got louder, he began to wonder: had he truly known desire until now? As he opened the door, his heart in his throat, he thought that maybe he hadn't. 

On the bed was Shizun—not just Shen Yuan, but his Shizun, his hair pulled into a familiar style (now fanned around him on the covers) and his body draped in the kind of beautiful robes that he'd always favored (only now they were in Luo Binghe's colors, their ties undone, their dark colors framing his skin). And his hand—

Luo Binghe watched, mouth dry, as Shizun's elegant fingers worked in and out of himself, his own movements causing his back to arch and his legs to spasm. "Binghe!" he said again, gasping. 

He was imagining that Luo Binghe was the one touching him like that, Binghe realized with a thrilled shiver. And he was loving it. That cold, arrogant face that had always twisted into a sneer when looking at Binghe was now wracked with ecstasy at the thought of being fucked by him.

Luo Bunghe took one unsteady step into the room, then another. This wasn't the slow, romantic evening he had planned, but how could he walk away from this? His next step caused a floorboard to squeak, and Shizun's eyes flew open, startled. He gasped again—with shame, this time.

"Binghe!" Shizun's face, which had already been flushed from his activities, burned an even deeper red with mortification. "Shit, I lost track of time, I didn't mean to—"

"I've been seduced by some of the most beautiful women in the world," Luo Binghe said, his voice rough. "I've had succubi try to tempt me into their lairs with displays so sensual they'd melt most minds, but this—" he leaned forward, giving in to the temptation to touch, and as his hand met his knee Shizun's panicked movements stilled, "—this is the most erotic thing I've ever seen."

Shizun stared at him, stunned, and Luo Binghe began to slowly move his hand from Shizun's knee to his thigh. The caress caused Shizun's eyes to darken, but he didn't protest, and as Binghe's hand continued to move upwards, his legs—which had clamped shut protectively a moment ago—fell open. From his shy, thin-faced Shizun, it may as well have been an enraged invitation.

Luo Binghe surged forward. His hands were suddenly full of warm flesh and silk, and Shizun was making the most wonderful, breathy little noises beneath him as Binghe kissed his throat, his neck, his chest. As Binghe pressed against him, Shizun wrapped his legs eagerly around Binghe's hips, and…well. Shizun was already prepared, wasn't he?

Luo Binghe fumbled with his own belt, then his pants, pulling them down just enough to free himself. It only took a couple strokes with the ointment at Shizun's bedside to make himself ready.

"Oh," Shizun breathed. His eyes were fixed on Luo Binghe's cock, and as Binghe watched, Shizun swallowed hard. He needed Binghe, that much was clear in every line of his body. And what kind of unfilial disciple would Binghe be to keep him waiting?

He gently pushed Shizun's thighs apart, lined himself up, and pressed in.

Shizun was shouting, now, his hands clutching Binghe closer, his hips stuttering upwards as Binghe slowly—painfully slowly—pushed in. And Binghe…

Binghe was making noise, too. It started as panting as he fought his own instinct to snap his hips forward, to get more of that tight, soft heat. Then, as he finally—finally —fully sheathed himself, he found himself crying out. This was more intense than it had been in the past—whether because it was with a man, or with Shizun, he couldn't be sure.

"Ah," he said, his hands spasming where they gripped Shizun's hips. He pulled back, then pressed in again, faster this time. The sheer pleasure of it made his head spin—so much so that, for a moment, he forgot himself. "Ah, Shizun."

Underneath him, Shizun froze. It took Binghe a moment to notice, so caught up in the feeling of being inside Shizun. 

It took him another moment to realize why.

"Oh," said Binghe, faintly. 

Was this how it ended? With a careless slip of his tongue?

It couldn't. Perhaps he could convince Shizun that he'd simply called another's name in bed; it would be a faux pas, but a slip up was easier to forgive than everything Binghe had actually done to him. His revenge against Shizun had never bothered him before—in the Abyss and demon realms, there was no mercy for those that quailed over the ethics of their actions—but faced with the prospect of explaining himself to the man he'd hurt, he found his resolve wavering.

But Shizun's face wasn't startled or confused. He looked frightened.

"...You already knew," Binghe said, his heart sinking.

Shizun flinched, confirming it. "Listen, I know I look like him," he said. "But you have to believe me—Binghe, I can't explain it, but I'm not him, alright? I can't be." His breath hitched. "I don't want to be."

Luo Binghe reached down, trembling, and gently cupped Shizun's cheek. Shizun's eyes were wild and panicked, frantically darting across Binghe's face as they looked for a sign of reassurance...but they weren't hateful.

Shizun knew. He remembered—and he still wanted Binghe. 

Luo Binghe felt the breath go out of him. He carefully pulled Shizun into a kiss, and despite Binghe still being buried inside him, it was so sweet and soft that it could almost be called chaste.

"Binghe?" Shizun whispered against his lips.

"Why?" Binghe asked. He began to move his hips again, rocking in and out of Shizun slowly.

Shizun hissed in pleasure. "Why what?"

"Why don't you want to be him?"

"What? Because he's horrible!" Shizun snapped, and the hate on his face was so familiar that it made Luo Binghe's heart ache. How often had that same expression struck fear into his heart as a disciple? It was turned inwards, now. 

Perhaps it always had been.

"His life was awful," Shizun continued. "And then he was awful to you. He hurt you, Binghe."

"I'm alright," Binghe said, and he found that he meant it. "You're going to be alright, too."

Shizun looked doubtful, but when Luo Binghe kissed him again he kissed back enthusiastically—desperately, even—and slowly relaxed into his arms.

The dinner Luo Binghe prepared went uneaten, in the end. They spent the rest of the night in Shizun's bed, and it was as perfect as Luo Binghe could ever have dreamed of (and he was capable of a lot when it came to dreams). For that brief moment, it was possible to believe that he could call this chapter of his life finished—that he could move Shizun into his harem, and they could continue to go on adventures and make love and feed that stupid salamander without any secrets hanging over them. 

And then he woke up, and Shizun was gone, and the walls of Huan Hua were shaking.

He shrugged on his robes and portaled to his council room where his generals had already begun to gather.

"It's Cang Qiong," Sha Hualing said, her face grim. "Yue Qingyuan unsheathed his sword, just for a moment, and it smashed straight through all our protective wards. It's—I don't know what it is. I've never seen anything like it before, but it's powerful."

Luo Binghe felt Xin Mo pulse with rage, and—for the first time in a long time—fear. It was easy to be brave when he had nothing to lose, he was realizing. Now that he'd had Shizun, and was facing the possibility of him slipping through his fingers…

"Where is Shen Qingqiu?" he asked quietly. When no one would meet his eyes, he snarled. "Where is Shizun? Tell me!"

Chapter Text

Shen Yuan looked down at Binghe's sleeping face, then slowly, quietly got up from the bed. He got dressed quickly—in his standard robes this time, not the flashy ones, which had unfortunately been thoroughly ruined several times over during the course of the night.  

There was a beautiful fan on the floor. It was probably a courting gift, discarded by Luo Binghe in his haste the previous night. Shen Yuan picked it up and tucked it into his belt.

Binghe's reaction hadn't been what he'd expected when Shen Yuan's identity—and his previous knowledge of it—had been brought into the open. He'd expected Binghe to gloat, to look at him with hate again, or worse, to start the torture back up. At the very least, he'd expected Binghe to mock him for falling for such an obvious seduction plot. Shen Yuan knowing who he really was, and falling for it anyway, had only made it more pathetic. 

But instead Binghe had looked at him with something like wonder. It had rattled Shen Yuan to his core.

He'd been braced for pain, but this? The hope that shot through him was its own torture.

He could survive his limbs being torn off again. He could take the pain—he had before—and he'd been prepared to deal with pleasure. But happiness? If he let himself believe that Binghe truly loved him back, if he lost himself in that joy, and then it turned out to be a lie…

He didn't think he could survive that. 

It was better—safer—not to hope. If he expected the worst, then he wouldn't be disappointed. But hope bloomed, despite his better judgment and despite all logic, as the night went on and Luo Binghe had continued to kiss him and hold him and fuck him like he was someone precious.

And really, how stupid could a person be? He was the scum villain! Binghe couldn't love him! He knew this was a revenge plot, and yet that little spark of hope flickered on, regardless.

"You'll be the death of me," he told Binghe softly, then slipped from the room.

He needed to ground himself, to remember what was real, to remember that he was real. The feeling of being Shen Qingqiu had continued to stubbornly persist, despite him definitely being Shen Yuan. If anything, sleeping with Binghe had made it stronger. When he'd woken, there was something familiar calling to him—something below Huan Hua.

He headed into the tunnels and began to work his way downward, operating half on instinct, half on fragments of memory. He'd been in the Water Prison before—or at least, Shen Qingqiu had—so it quickly became clear where he was going. No other part of Huan Hua had such cold, damp walls. As he went deeper, he began to shiver despite his relatively warm robes. How miserable must this have been as a prisoner, with only rags to keep warm?

He didn't need to guess—the memories were right there, crowding his mind even as he tried to push them away.

He shivered harder.

When he finally reached the room he was looking for, the one that was calling to him, at first he thought he'd made a mistake. He'd half expected to pop up from the floor into his old torture chamber, or into a room full of treasures where Binghe may have stashed his valuables, but this was...nothing. It was just a small and dingy storage room with a chest at its center, along with a few piles of discarded scrap—

No, not scrap. Robes. Shen Yuan slipped out of the tunnel and picked up the fabric. It was blood stained and torn, but the green bamboo batten was still visible on it. It was his, as was the sword sheath lying next to it on the floor.

Xiu Ya.  

That's what had been calling to him. He swallowed, then picked up his spirit sword carefully. When he drew the blade (just a few inches, just to check) part of him was certain he was going to see it shattered and dead, just like he had been shattered and dead. But Xiu Ya was more resilient than its master, it seemed. It shimmered and sang to him, almost joyful in its light against the darkness of the room.

He buckled it to his waist and took another look around. The chest in the center of the room was open, and Shen Yuan could see that its interior, while empty, was covered in blood stains. He felt suddenly, horribly certain that this is where Luo Binghe had stored his limbs after ripping them off. 

It wasn't uncommon to have displays of an enemy's defeat—their weapon, or their head—mounted for all to see. For demons, it was a matter of pride. It said, "Look at how great my enemy was, and how much greater I must be for having bested them!" 

This was different. It wasn't a celebration of his defeat; it was everything that he'd been, thrown in a dark corner to rot, forgotten. 

If this was how Luo Binghe saw him—not just with hate, but with contempt—how could Shen Yuan hope to be loved by him? That little spark of hope in him guttered, painfully. 

Good. It should go out, preferably before it got big enough to burn him.

As he surveyed the room around him, his heart sinking, the walls of Huan Hua shuddered.

The unexpectedness of it shook Shen Yuan out of his melancholy. It sounded like they were under attack, but that didn't make sense! There was no attack against Huan Hua at this point in the story. Or was this because Binghe had noticed that he'd gone missing? Was he so angry at Shen Yuan that he'd break the walls of his own palace in rage?

...And if Binghe was that angry, what would he do when he eventually found Shen Yuan?

Shen Yuan swallowed, then crawled back into the tunnels.

The place where it would be easiest for him to remain unnoticed would be in tunnels near the harem. Almost everyone there had Luo Binghe's blood in them. What was one more body amongst the masses? Besides, he wouldn't need to stay there forever—just for a bit, until the plant body finished growing.

This part of the palace was kept almost entirely isolated from the rest. He'd never been in it before, and as he crept beneath the floors of the women Binghe had married, he couldn't help but feel like the lecher he'd been accused of being. He kept his eyes averted from the peep holes above him, but it was impossible to block out the sounds—women talking softly, dressing, combing their hair, tending to their children. Then, as the walls continued to shake, raising their voices in concern.

He mostly ignored it, focusing on pressing deeper into the harem, until a familiar voice caught his attention.

"—he's been in the Water Prison for years. How could he escape now?" Ning Yingying was saying.

"Hasn't Bingbing told you?" said an unfamiliar woman, laughing. "He's been out of prison for months. Kind of. He's not quite himself anymore."

"What does that mean?" Ning Yingying asked.

Her only response was more laughter.

"Sha Hualing, what does that mean?"

"It means our dear husband is good at getting revenge, I suppose. Even the strongest person eventually breaks under torture. You know what was done to him, don't you?"

There was a heavy pause. "...I do," Ning Yingying said quietly. 

"I know Shen Qingqiu's crimes were so heinous that even you, his loyal disciple, couldn't bear to say a word in his defense during his trial," Sha Hualing said, her voice mocking. She intended to hurt Ning Yingying with her words—that much was clear from her tone—but how? Ning Yingying hadn't defended him because he was guilty…right? "It must hurt to hear that he's out of prison now and being favored by our husband."

Ning Yingying inhaled sharply. "What?"

"He's been taking your Shizun on dates, cooking him meals, plying him with gifts, the usual. This morning he even smelled of him, if you know what I mean." Sha Hualing gave an exaggerated sigh. "Ah, poor Yingying—having your husband court the man who molested you must be the ultimate betrayal. Or would that be standing silently by while the person who raised you was falsely persecuted?"

"Get out," Ning Yingying snapped. 

"With pleasure." Tinkling footsteps headed towards the door. "Just keep an eye out for him. And be careful—one of the Huan Hua disciples had a breakdown earlier, sobbing about how Shen Qingqiu could walk through walls. Perhaps your Shizun came back as a vengeful ghost? If so, I'd watch out if I were you."

Then the door closed, cutting off the sound of her laughter, and Ning Yingying was alone in the room above him. Suddenly Shen Yuan needed to see her, to talk to her, to know—but it would be stupid to show himself now, especially to someone who'd already proven that they'd side with Luo Binghe against him. 

Shen Yuan did so anyway.

When he crawled out of the tunnel, Ning Yingying's back was to him. As he watched, her shoulders slumped, and her head, which had been held so high, hung low.

He could still picture her during her entrance exam. When she'd smiled at him, she'd been so small and sweet and innocent that it had felt as if he'd been handed proof that there could still be good in this world. Could he really have tried to sully that with his own hands? He couldn't remember doing so—even imagining the possibility was nauseating—but PIDW had been clear about his crimes, and there were too many other holes in his memory for him to be certain.

"Ning Yingying," he said, his voice hoarse. 

She spun around, her mouth open to shout, and then—

"Shizun?" she whispered, shocked. "How…?"

Her face was almost the same as he remembered, her cultivation freezing her in time to just past when he'd last seen her. She'd been trembling and ashen-faced then, sitting in stony silence at his trial as his crimes were read aloud. She was shaking now, too, staring at him in disbelief.

"Was it true?" he asked. "At the trial, Binghe said that I…" His voice cracked. He swallowed, and tried again. "I can't remember, but I can't remember so much. Did I—"

"No," Ning Yingying said, her face crumpling. "Shizun, no." And then his arms were full of Ning Yingying, and she was crying into his chest just like she had when she was little and had failed a test. "Luo Binghe told me that I just wasn't worldly enough to understand what you were actually doing to me," she said. "And I was young and stupid and naive—he got that part right—and so I believed him. I think he believed it himself, too." 

She looked up at him, and her face was streaked in tears, but there was a hardness there that he hadn't seen in it before—and that in itself was enough to break his heart a little. "But Shizun, I've been married to Binghe for years now. I have two kids. I know what lust looks like, and what parental love looks like, and I can tell the difference between the two. You only ever treated me like a daughter."

"Oh." That…made sense. Shen Yuan felt the breath go out of him as an impossibly heavy weight was lifted off his chest. "Alright, then," he said, and hugged her back. 

Holding her like this brought back memories, and for once, they were good ones: Ning Yingying whooping with joy and hugging him after she'd claimed her spirit sword; her excitement when she'd first managed to circulate qi; and later, watching her satisfaction and pride as she grew into a competent fighter. He'd wanted so badly to protect her, to preserve that brilliant good that he'd seen in her, but in hindsight his over-protectiveness had left her vulnerable. If he'd taught her more of the world, would she have been able to see through Luo Binghe's accusations?

It was yet another failure to add to the pile—though, thinking back to his uncertainty moments ago, it wasn't as bad as it could have been.

They stayed like that for a while, holding each other, until the shaking of the walls intensified.

"You should go," Ning Yingying said, pulling back. There were still tears in her eyes, but her face was determined. "Huan Hua is under attack—that was what Sha Hualing was here to report—and Luo Binghe is looking for you."

Up until now, he'd assumed the shaking was Binghe. He frowned. "Someone is attacking Huan Hua? Who?"

"Cang Qiong Mountain," she said. "Shizun, they've come to save you, but…"

"The heavenly demon blood. I know." And Yue Qingyuan would, too—if Mu Qingfang's letter had been a rescue request, he wouldn't have forgotten to mention the demon blood tying them to Binghe.

That meant Yue Qingyuan planned on killing Binghe. He had experience fighting heavenly demons, Shen Yuan suddenly remembered with an unpleasant jolt. As a disciple, Yue Qingyuan had been involved in the fight against Tianlang-Jun (who hadn't even been in the book! And why had Airplane left out the most important parts?). 

Tianlang-Jun, who'd been stronger and more experienced than Binghe, and who'd still lost.

He needed to find Binghe, now.

Shen Yuan headed towards the fight, following the sounds of explosions until the shaking of the walls became too pronounced for him to feel safe in the tunnels. And wouldn't that be a fitting death—surviving Luo Binghe's torture, only to be crushed in the rubble by Yue Qingyuan's rescue? 

He exited the tunnel and continued onwards, and it wasn't long before he heard Luo Binghe's voice. 

"Shizun isn't yours—not anymore," Luo Binghe snarled. 

"Can you truly call him 'Shizun' after everything you've done to him?" Yue Qingyuan's voice was outwardly calmer than Binghe's, but Shen Yuan knew him well enough to hear the fury in it. 

Qi-ge.

He'd really come. 

Shen Yuan's heart was beating too fast. He quickened his pace, turned the corner into a courtyard, and there they were: Luo Binghe with Xin Mo drawn, his generals at his back, facing off against Yue Qingyuan, the Peak Lords, and various members from the other human sects. The Huan Hua disciples had mostly sided with Binghe, though there were a few that were standing with the human cultivators. Shen Yuan could see Li Xiaowen among them, hiding behind the Cang Qiong delegation like the cowardly cannon fodder that he was. Mu Qingfang was there, too, lying on the ground, his body rigid—locked down by the blood parasites, presumably. 

The courtyard was in rubble around them, with half of the walls collapsed, deep gouges from sword flares scoring the ground, and the remnants of the garden in flames. A hundred little fights were happening all at once as the human cultivators took on the demons and Huan Hua, but around Yue Qingyuan and Binghe there was a circle of quiet, like the eye of a storm. Shen Yuan crept forward, hiding behind the remnants of one of the walls as he inched his way towards them. To do what, he wasn't sure—he only knew that he couldn't let Yue Qingyuan go through with whatever it was he was planning, and the thought of Luo Binghe hurting Yue Qingyuan was equally awful. 

Luo Binghe darted forward, swinging at Yue Qingyuan, who deftly blocked the blow with his sheath. "When are you going to fight properly?" Binghe said. "Draw your sword again!"

"Make me."

Yue Qingyuan had drawn his sword? Had he ever done that before? He certainly looked like he might be forced to do so again as Luo Binghe continued raining down blows, each strike coming harder and faster than the last. As strong as he was, Yue Qingyuan was being driven back…or was he retreating? The more Shen Yuan watched, the more deliberate it seemed. 

Luo Binghe surely saw it too, but he was overconfident and angry, and had no idea that he was up against people who knew his true heritage.

Dread settled in Shen Yuan's stomach as Yue Qingyuan halted his retreat and gripped Xuan Su's handle. "I'll give you one last chance," Yue Qingyuan said quietly. "Where is Shen Qingqiu?"

"You don't have him?" Luo Binghe frowned, and began to withdraw. "If he's not with you, I won't waste my time—"

Yue Qingyuan laughed, short and humorless. 

"You lost him?" Yue Qingyuan said, and his smile was a bitter, ugly thing. "I can't say I'm surprised. The last time I showed up to save him, he'd already left, too. I'm only sorry he didn't burn this place to the ground on his way out."

Shen Yuan's mind stuttered to a stop. 

It was impossible. There was only one time Qi-ge could be referring to, but if he'd come, then why hadn't he said?

And then Yue Qingyuan was drawing Xuan Su, and there wasn't room for thought. The overpowering aura pressed most of the other combatants in the courtyard to the ground, leaving only the most powerful on their feet. Even Luo Binghe was thrown a few steps back, his face tensing as he reassessed the threat in front of him.

Xuan Su was too powerful to be an ordinary spirit sword, Shen Yuan realized. That wasn't Yue Qingyuan's qi—that was his life itself being channeled second by second, year by year, into an unstoppable force. When Yue Qingyuan swung his sword and it smashed into Xin Mo, it was like watching someone get hit with a skyscraper. 

Shen Yuan watched in horror as Luo Binghe was flung backwards, across the courtyard, and—

"Now!" Yue Qingyuan shouted, sheathing his blade.

A pillar of red light flared into life at the center of the courtyard, pouring up into the sky out of an array that had been drawn on the ground. The lines and characters of the array flashed blindingly bright as Luo Binghe crossed its boundary and then froze, mid-flight, caught in the light like a fly in amber. The cultivators at the edges of the array staggered as his qi flared, but they held firm. 

As solid as the barrier clearly was for Binghe, the human cultivators at its edges seemed able to pass through it. One of them had collapsed partly into it, but as Shen Qingqiu watched, she regained her footing and stepped back, passing through the light as if it were only…well, light.

So it only stopped demons—or perhaps only heavenly demons. Was this what they'd used on Tianlun-Jun?

Shards of ice came shooting towards the barrier as Mobei-Jun moved to break the circle, but the human cultivators had been prepared for that, too. Monks from Zhao Hua, along with a gaggle of Bia Zhan disciples, moved to block the attack, forming a tight protective wall around the array and those holding it. The Peak Lords (including Mu Qingfang, now—apparently the barrier also suppressed Binghe's hold on the blood parasites) immediately pressed their advantage. Qi Qingqi was carving through the lower ranked demons at a frankly frightening speed, her sword a blur, while Mu Qingfang hung back, throwing out carefully targeted needles—poisoned ones, judging by the way those hit with them immediately collapsed. 

Sha Hualing danced around the incoming needles, snarling as her underlings fell around her. Mobei-Jun took a more direct approach, throwing up an ice wall to protect himself. 

It wasn't enough. A swing from Qi Qingqi's sword struck the ice barrier, cleaving it, and a needle slipped through. A moment later and Mobei-Jun was staggering back, the needle lodged in his throat.

"My King!" shouted Shang Qinghua, which—

Why was he even still alive? Shen Yuan could have sworn he was supposed to have been killed by now. Though the moment of his death might not be that far off, going by the looks the Cang Qiong delegation were sending him as he abandoned them to rush to Mobei-Jun's side, a fistful of healing herbs and talismans at the ready.

"Traitor!" yelled Qi Qingiqi.

"We'll deal with him later," Mu Qingfang said. "Focus on Sha Hualing!"

Sha Hualing had used the momentary distraction of Shang Qinghua's defection to slip closer to the barrier. The Little Palace Mistress was with her, her whip keeping attackers at bay while Sha Hualing carved a path towards the array. It was a strategy that would work, given enough time.

But time was a luxury she didn't have. Yue Qingyuan was already striding into the barrier, his face grim as he looked at Luo Binghe. "If I had the time, I would do this slower and properly repay what you've done to Xiao-Jiu," he said. 

Luo Binghe didn't answer him—couldn't answer him, his muscles frozen by the array. The only part of him that could move were his eyes, glaring furiously as Yue Qingyuan drew Xuan Su once more, aiming it at Binghe's heart.

Would a blade to the heart kill a heavenly demon? Probably not—but this was no ordinary blade, and at the end of the day, Binghe was still half-human.

He couldn't risk it. Shen Yuan jumped, the qi in his feet propelling him across the courtyard and into the barrier between one moment and the next. Yue Qingyuan's back was facing away from the demons, unguarded. It was easy to land a sheathed blow to his side and send him staggering. 

Yue Qingyuan whirled to a counterattack, then froze.

"Xiao-Jiu?" he said, his eyes widening. From the corner of his eyes, Shen Yuan could see that Luo Binghe's eyes were startled too, staring at him in wild disbelief—and hope.

"That's not my name," he snapped, half out of habit. "I'm…"

He hesitated. 

He was Shen Yuan—he really was! But there were so many memories swirling in his head, it was hard to keep track of which thoughts were his and which ones were Shen Jiu's. They all felt like him…and maybe they were? He felt suddenly certain that both lives were his—that he'd lived and died as Shen Jiu, and then had lived and died again as Shen Yuan, before finally returning here to his original body.

He'd paused for too long. Yue Qingyuan's face crumpled in horror as he watched him struggle to say his own name. "Your name is Shen Qingqiu," he said softly, sadly.

"I think you might be right," said Shen Yuan—no, Qingqiu. He was still himself! It was just that "himself" was…more, now. 

Also: "And sheath that fucking sword, what is wrong with you?" 

Yue Qingyuan didn't sheath his sword. The cultivators holding the array were barely standing up under its onslaught. "I will as soon as I end his hold over you," Yue Qingyuan said solemnly, calmly, as if his life force wasn't pouring out of him with every passing second. "Xiao—Shen-shidi, I've failed you before, but I won't today."

It was a sweet, idiotically misguided sentiment—quintessential Qi-ge. "I won't let you hurt him," Shen Qingqiu said.

Yue Qingyuan's face twisted. "Shidi, please. He's confused you. Let me help—"

He stopped as Shen Qingqiu drew Xiu Ya. 

"Leave. Now. I don't want you to get hurt, either," Shen Qingqiu said. "The thought of you dying for my sake is what killed me the first time."

Impossibly, that made Yue Qingyuan's face look even sadder. "Shen-shidi, you haven't died."

There was a boom from behind them as Sha Hualing broke through the last line of defenses and landed a blow on the outer runes of the array. The array flickered, and for a moment Luo Binghe was able to move. He fell a few feet as the power suspending him gave way, and as he did, he twisted towards Shen Qingqiu, reaching out—

And then froze again, half-way to the ground, as the array flickered back on. Qi Qingqi was slashing away at Sha Hualing, but she was outnumbered—at any moment another of Binghe's allies would break the array and Binghe would be out.

"We're out of time. I'm sorry," Yue Qingyuan said, and he really did look sorry as he raised Xuan Su and swung.

Shen Qingqiu couldn't block him with Xia Ya. His blade would be shattered—no, vaporized—by the amount of power being wielded. But Qi-ge had come for him (Qi-ge didn't hate him!) and so he stepped between the blade and Luo Binghe, and hoped. 

Yue Qingyuan managed to pull his blow in time to avoid skewering Shen Qingqiu, but only just. "Xiao-Jiu—!"

"You'll have to kill me first," Shen Qingqiu said.

"Xiao-Jiu…"

"I mean it, Qi-ge."

Another earth-shattering boom sounded from behind them.

"The barrier is failing!" Qi Qingqi yelled. 

"If we can't kill Luo Binghe—if Shen-shidi won't let us—then we'll have to run for it," Yue Qingyuan said, his face grim as he sheathed Xuan Su. "All of us." He gave Shen Qingqiu a hard look.

"The blood parasites—" Mu Qingfang started.

"There are contingencies in place," Yue Qingyuan said, and then he was stepping away from Binghe, which would have been a relief, except he was pulling Shen Qingqiu away too, yanking him back until they were both out of the barrier. "Collapse the array!" he shouted.

The cultivators holding the circle of the array pressed forward with their hands, and the fluctuating, permeable barrier that Binghe was frozen in began to shrink. It was changing color, turning a sickly yellow—crystallizing, Shen Qingqiu realized in horror.

"What are you doing to him?" he cried, and he reached towards Binghe as if to pull him out of there himself, but at the barrier's edge his hands met solid rock. He could still see Binghe, could see the fear and fury in his eyes as Yue Qingyuan continued to pull Shen Qingqiu away, but he couldn't reach him.

"You know how hard it is to kill a heavenly demon," Yue Qingyuan said. "If that's a comfort to you now, so be it. But unless you want to be tortured by his blood parasites, then we need to get back to Cang Qiong. This won't hold him for long—we'd originally planned on stopping his heart before sealing him in it, but, well..."

He was right about it not holding Binghe for long. Shen Qingqiu could already see hairline fissures starting to grow around Binghe's body—his demonic qi forcing its way out.

Whatever Cang Qiong had set up to protect them, it wouldn't be enough, not now that Luo Binghe knew what kind of threat he was facing. If Shen Qingqiu left with them, he would die.

He would die faster if he stayed here, though. 

"Alright," he said, and let Yue Qingyuan coax him onto Xiu Ya and into the sky.

He could feel Binghe's eyes burning into his back the whole way home.

By the time Luo Binghe broke through his prison, the sun had set and his anger had cooled. The initial burst of rage at Shizun's supposed betrayal had vanished as soon as Shizun had shown up. Not only had he clearly not been part of the plan to trap Binghe, but he'd actively tried to stop it. 

And in the process he'd saved Luo Binghe's life. Again.

When Yue Qingyuan had pulled his sword, Luo Binghe had known he was going to die. The array had been designed specifically to entrap and immobilize heavenly demons, leaving him no way to avoid or block the incoming strike. In that moment, he'd been certain that this was how his story would end—that after everything, he'd be just one more uppity demon struck down by a righteous cultivator.

How boring.  

Shizun had saved him from that, both when he'd knocked Yue Qingyuan's sword strike aside and when he'd positioned himself in front of Luo Binghe. 

It shouldn't have been as shocking as it was. Shizun had done the same thing before with the Stone-Backed Lion, but Luo Binghe had assumed that was partly due to Shizun's amnesia. Who would risk everything to save the person who'd destroyed their life, trashed their reputation, and tortured them?

Shizun, apparently. He'd remembered the pain, and expected more of it—and had inexplicably saved Luo Binghe anyway. When he'd looked back at Luo Binghe as Yue Qingyuan dragged him away, Shizun's face had been terrified. It was obvious that he expected Luo Binghe to break out of his prison and resume the torture.

So why had he saved him?

When the prison shattered, Luo Binghe got to his feet slowly and looked around him. The courtyard was wrecked, as was the Huan Hua portion of his army. Mobei-Jun was upright, though he looked unsteady and was heavily leaning on that little weaselly spy of his (whom Luo Binghe supposed wouldn't be much use anymore, though Mobei-Jun seemed fond of him for some incomprehensible reason). Sha Hualing was one of the few who'd made it through unscathed, and she was bouncing on her feet in excitement as she watched him recover.

"Your orders, my Lord?" she asked, readying her weapons. "I have more troops to the south who can join us at Cang Qiong within the day—"

"Just clean up this mess," Luo Binghe said, gesturing at the courtyard.

"Oh. Alright." She frowned. "And then…?"

"And then find me some human delegates I can send to Cang Qiong with a message."

Shizun was surely already there, though the blood parasites in his body were sluggish and distant. He was almost certainly in some sort of protective barrier similar to the one Binghe had just been imprisoned in. Luo Binghe wanted to fly there and smash the thing separating him from Shizun to dust—wanted to grab Shizun and demand that he understand Luo Binghe hadn't just been playing some kind of cruel game. He needed Shizun to see that his strange, impossible love wasn't unrequited, and that Luo Binghe did care for him, and wouldn't hurt him.

A darker part of him also wanted to crush Yue Qingyuan for having taken Shizun away before he had the chance to prove that to him on his own terms, but he knew Xin Mo's influence when he felt it. Besides, he'd seen Shizun's face when he looked at Yue Qingyuan, and he couldn't forget the threat that had caused Shizun's original qi deviation. If he hurt Yue Qingyuan, he'd lose Shizun forever. 

Perhaps this would be for the best. It had hurt seeing Shizun look at him with so much fear, especially after their night together, but how could he prove that fear to be unfounded without letting Shizun go, at least temporarily? If Shizun expected Luo Binghe to hurt him and his loved ones, the best way to prove him wrong was to just…not. 

As a first step, at least. He'd have to do more than that to convince Shizun to come back to his side willingly. 

Despite the enormity of the task, he couldn't help but feel confident. He already had Shizun's heart, after all. How hard could it be to win his trust?

Chapter Text

"He'll kill all of you," Shen Qingqiu said.

The Peak Lords gathered around him gave him looks that ranged from pitying (Yue Qingyuan) to contemptuous (Qi Qingqi), but none of them looked worried. 

"We've dealt with a Heavenly Demon before, shidi," Yue Qingyuan said soothingly. "He'll be difficult to stop, but not impossible."

"He'd be stopped already if you hadn't interfered," Qi Qingqi snapped. 

"Qi-shimei…" Yue Qingyuan gave her a warning look.

She glared back at him. "Enough coddling him already! He deliberately took Luo Binghe's side; he's as much a traitor as Shang Qinghua. The other sects are already calling for him to be appropriately punished."

"That's not going to happen." Yue Qingyuan's calm face went cold as his hand rested on Xuan Su's handle—and the Peak Lords hadn't seen this side of Qi-ge before, had they? They only saw the smiles, and never the steel behind them that had kept them both alive on the streets.

Shen Qingqiu watched, amused, as Qi Qingqi and the other Peak Lords shrank back, but the disquiet on their faces spelled trouble later. 

"Shen-shidi is recovering from a serious qi deviation. His mental state is unbalanced," Mu Qingfang said. "Locking him up, especially after his trauma in the Water Prison, will only make things worse."

"It'd stop him from interfering with whatever plan we come up with next," Qi Qingqi pointed out, and then they were bickering again, with Mu Qingfang and Yue Qingyuan arguing for leniency and the others arguing against it.

Shen Qingqiu picked at the embroidery on the sleeve of his robe as he half-listened. It was one of his classic Peak Lord outfits—green and white and beautiful, and so very strange after the past few months in red and black.

He'd spent the night on Qian Cao Peak, and this morning had gone straight from there to this Peak Lord meeting. Although he hadn't been able to visit his home yet, he hadn't wanted for anything from it. Yue Qingyuan had arrived on Qian Cao at sunrise with an almost overwhelmingly large selection of his old robes, hair crowns, and fans to choose from, and the worried little crease between the sect leader's brows hadn't fully smoothed out until Shen Qingqiu had emerged looking like his old self. Yue Qingyuan had seemed comforted by the appearance of a return to normalcy; Shen Qingqiu only wished he felt the same.

The Peak Lords were getting louder, their voices rising as they debated what would happen to him.

Shen Qingqiu stood up. They didn't need him here for this. The protagonist was probably on his way to Cang Qiong right now and they were fighting over what to do about Shen Qingqiu, as if he was the threat. It would be laughable if the situation wasn't so serious. He turned and silently walked out of the meeting, leaving Qiong Ding's main hall behind.

His departure didn't go unnoticed.

"How arrogant can a person be? As if we didn't all just risk our necks to save his life," said Qi Qingqi—still audible thanks to his cultivation, despite the distance—and he heard the others mutter in agreement.

"He needs some time," said Mu Qingfang.

"Because he was hurt?" Qi Qingqi said. "We were all hurt, as were our disciples, when we came to his rescue!"

"No," said Mu Qingfang. "Because, a few weeks ago, he didn't even know that he was him. He thought Shen Qingqiu was the villain in a story, and he thought Luo Binghe—his torturer—was the hero. I think some part of him still believes that."

There was a stunned silence. 

"He thinks he's a villain?" Yue Qingyuan said quietly. 

"I mean, he's not wrong, but why?" Qi Qingqi asked. 

Mu Qingfang sighed. "Self-hatred can take many different forms. This one was more...abstract than other cases I've seen, but no less obvious for it."

Intellectually, Shen Qingqiu knew Qing Jing Peak would burn. Looking down from the air and seeing the peaceful forests, hearing the sounds of music being practiced, and watching his students scurrying between classes made that knowledge a lot harder to accept, though. 

He landed next to his bamboo house. It was just as he remembered. The tea was in the same cupboard it always was, and it was easy to make himself a cup, sit at his table, and look at his art and his books and pretend for a moment like this would last. 

It was soothing, being home. He'd missed it more than he'd realized. Even his apartment in his second life, with all its modern amenities, couldn't compare to how peaceful this place was. Part of that was probably how he'd never actually cleaned the apartment (he had a housekeeper come once a month for that), or decorated it (other than Binghe merch), or opened any of the windows (light made his screens harder to view). 

He did miss his internet connection, though. 

He wished he could at least access his old web novels. There were plenty of trashy books in this world to read, but he'd always passed them over in some misguided attempt at cultivating a scholarly library—as if wearing the lofty immortal mask perfectly enough would somehow make others love and respect him. 

He wanted to laugh at his past self. At least as Shen Yuan he'd been able to enjoy himself a bit! If he survived all this, he was going to read so much stupid shit, other people's opinions be damned. 

When his tea was gone, he stood up, walked to his bedroom, and began packing. 

If Luo Binghe had destroyed Cang Qiong to get to him, then the best way to save it was to remove himself. The protective array that the scholars from Xian Shu Peak had painted onto his chest would protect him from the worst of Luo Binghe's blood parasites, but Binghe would still be able to sense him if he got close enough. If he wasn't here, then perhaps Luo Binghe would pass Qing Jing by. A long shot, perhaps, but it was all he had.

His fanciest robes went into a qiankun bag—not to wear, but to sell—as did his most expensive hair crowns and trinkets. He picked his favorite three fans, his most treasured books, and his nicest writing brush to hopefully bring a small taste of home with him to wherever he settled in the plant body. Some basics for hygiene and cookware went in the bag too, along with all the money and spirit stones he could find. 

He'd been a squirrelly bastard in his first life, and so half his valuables were stashed away in hidden compartments and under floorboards. It took a bit of digging to get to them, and it wasn't the quietest of undertakings, which is why he didn't hear the disciple approaching the house until it was too late. 

"Shizun?" called a voice. There was a gasp as the door opened, followed by the sound of porcelain smashing into the ground. 

"I'm busy!" shouted Shen Qingqiu, not bothering to turn around. He'd left his biggest collection of money in a hidden recess behind the bookshelf. It was a good hiding place—what thief would take the time to move such a heavy piece of furniture? Shen Qingqiu grabbed it and pulled it to the ground, the fragile contents smashing and the books flying everywhere.

There. He grabbed the money hidden in the wall and added it to bag, then turned to face the intruder.

It was Ming Fan, watching him with undisguised horror, his eyes darting from Shen Qingqiu to the destruction of the bamboo house and then back again. At his feet lay a dinner tray, broken beyond repair, the bland food mixing with the shards of porcelain.

It was just as well. He couldn't have eaten such flavorless food, not after having existed on Binghe's cooking for so long. 

"Shizun, are you having a qi deviation?" Ming Fan asked. "Should I get Mu Qingfang?"

Ming Fan had been an adorable child, Shen Qingqiu remembered. His little round face had shone with excitement and pride when Shen Qingqiu picked him (even if he had shot a few wistful looks at Bai Zhan Peak, the silly boy, as if he'd have lasted a day there). It had been like adopting a duckling—a bit clumsy, a lot cute, and entirely too willing to follow wherever Shen Qingqiu led him.

His death scene had been detailed and graphic. For a moment, the two versions of Ming Fang from his memory were overlaid, and he could see the ants crawling over the child's face, into his nose, his ears, his screaming mouth, biting—

Shen Qingqiu clamped a hand over his mouth as his stomach turned. And okay, maybe he was having a little bit of a qi deviation.

"Shizun!" Ming Fan was at his side in an instant, carefully supporting him as his knees threatened to buckle. "I'll get Mu-shishu, and he'll fix this. He always does."

Ming Fan had been the youngest of ten, and he'd been so eager to please, to impress, after a lifetime of being overlooked. That didn't excuse how eagerly he'd taken to the cruelty that Shen Qingqiu had pushed him towards, but how could he hate a dog for biting after training it from a puppy to do just that?

"Ming Fan," he said calmly, wiping away the blood that had begun to trickle out of his nose.

"Yes, Shizun?" Ming Fan was an adult now, but his face was just as earnest and eager-to-please as ever.

Shen Qingqiu had gotten him into this mess. It was his responsibility to get him out of it, too.

"You're banished from Qing Jing," he said.

It took a second for his words to register. 

"...What?" Ming Fan said, stunned. "Wait, Shizun, what did I do? This disciple apologizes, I'll take any punishment, but please—!"

"We're leaving. Now." Shen Qingqiu hadn't planned on having a travel companion, but this would be fine. He'd get Ming Fan set up in a new life somewhere out of the way, then continue to the plant body on his own. He went to his desk to write a quick note. 

"'We'?" Ming Fan said weakly. His eyes were wide with disbelief as he watched Shen Qingqiu work, and there were tears in them now, too.

He'd dedicated his whole life to being head disciple. Shen Qingqiu was sure this hurt, but being eaten alive by ants would hurt more.

"I'm resigning as Peak Lord," he said, placing the note that explained as much in the center of the table. In his hurry, the handwriting was Shen Yuan's, but hopefully they'd still recognize it as coming from him. He stamped it with his seal to be sure, then dragged Ming Fan out of the house.

They left the mountain on foot (flying would attract too much attention, and if Luo Binghe was already on his way, he'd spot them in an instant).

It was an unpleasant hike. The scars at Shen Qingqiu's shoulders and hips were acting up, and normally Ming Fan would probably be complaining, too—he'd never enjoyed long trips or physical labor. But this time he was silent, dragging his feet and staring around tearfully at the forest as if trying to memorize every detail before he left it behind forever. 

By the time they were approaching the city near Cang Ciong's base, it was late afternoon, verging on evening. The first thing to do was get rid of the robes that marked them as cultivators. With how much they stood out currently, Luo Binghe wouldn't need his blood parasites to track them—he'd be able to ask any person on the street and find out exactly where they'd gone.

"Shizun, are you sure?" Ming Fan said, staring at the rough clothes with the same detached horror that had settled over his face ever since he'd been dismissed as a disciple. It had been a long day for him, but still…

"Don't be rude." Shen Qingqiu quickly stripped off his Peak Lord robes and pulled on the rough farmer's outfit. He'd spotted it, along with a shirt and pants approximately Ming Fan's size, drying outside a farm on the city limits. The family that lived there had been confused but enthusiastic about Shen Qingqiu's offer to trade outfits. Even used, Shen Qingqiu and Ming Fan's robes would sell for a hefty sum.

"But Shizun—"

"Change. I won't ask you again."

He waited to see what Ming Fan would do. Shen Qingqiu was no longer a Peak Lord, and Ming Fan was no longer a disciple. Ming Fan could simply ignore him and walk away a free man.

"Yes, Shizun," Ming Fan said miserably, and changed.

Their swords had to be hidden, too. Ming Fan put up more of a protest about that ("If they're in guquin bags, we won't be able to draw them quickly if we need them!") but Shen Qingqiu was able to bully him into line. When he stepped back to survey his handiwork, he nodded in satisfaction. Ming Fan looked like an ordinary citizen. 

An ordinary citizen whose dog had just died, going by his devastated expression, but still.

Next they headed to the pawn shop. "We'll need money to get you settled in a new life," he explained when Ming Fan protested his sale of a set of rare jade figurines. 

"Shizun, my family has money! If I'm really expelled from Qing Jing Peak—"

"You are."

"—then we should head there." Just suggesting returning to his family home in disgrace looked like it might make Ming Fan sick, but he soldiered on regardless. "They'll give us rooms and food, and we'll have time there to get you help. Maybe we can write to Mu Qingfang? I really think he should check you over."

"We can't go there. That's the first place Binghe will check."

They ended up in a rundown inn instead. 

"There are fleas in the bed," Ming Fan said, poking at the patchy straw mat he'd been given.

"Get used to it." Ming Fan would have to maintain a low profile for a long time—or travel very far away—if he wanted to escape his fate. 

"Shizun…"

"And stop calling me Shizun." If he kept doing it in public places, people would start to notice.

"Yes, Shizun," said Ming Fan, and curled up on his mat.

The next morning they headed south.

"This is towards Huan Hua," Ming Fan protested when Shen Qingqiu picked out their route.

"There's something there I need to do." The plant body should be ready by the time he got close enough to use it.

"Shizun—"

"Ming Fan."

"...Sorry. Shen Qingqiu." Ming Fan's whole body cringed at the use of his full name.

Shen Qingqiu sighed. "'Shen Yuan' would be less likely to attract attention," he said, not for the first time. "And you don't need to follow me all the way there. Once we're clear of Cang Qiong's territory, you should head west." Luo Binghe's empire wouldn't extend as far in that direction as it would in others.

"I'm coming with you," Ming Fan said.

Not all the way, he wouldn't. Shen Qingqiu would bet all their money that Ming Fan's reaction to his "die and be reborn in a plant body" plan wouldn't be pretty, but it wasn't worth arguing about at the moment.

Traveling with Ming Fan did slow him down, though. Not only was Ming Fan not able to practice inedia yet, but he kept trying to drag Shen Qingqiu to doctors.

"Shizun, I heard the town up ahead has an excellent healer," he said.

"I'm not sick," said Shen Qingqiu.

"I've fetched medicine for Qian Cao's stores from the herbalist here," Ming Fan mentioned casually, a few days later. "She specializes in qi disruptions. We should stop by on our way through."

"My qi is fine."

"If you don't want herbs, then there's an acupuncturist a little to the east—" 

"We're not wasting money on a doctor," Shen Qingqiu said. 

Ming Fan looked pained. "Shizun, we can spare the money to get you looked at! And even if we couldn't, Cang Qiong would help if you'd just let me write and ask—"

"I'm fine." Shen Qingqiu glared at him—one of his old glares, the kind he'd rarely turned on Ming Fan. "And involving Cang Qiong is as good as signing their death warrants. If you do so, our travel together ends. Immediately, and permanently."

Ming Fan didn't bring it up again.

On their fourth day they ran into a gaggle of Huan Hua cultivators.

At the sight of them, Ming Fan reached into his qiankun bag, probably intending on drawing his sword, but stopped when Shen Qingqiu held up his hand. The cultivators hadn't spared them a second glance, and they didn't look like they were here to pick a fight. They were transporting something on a cart—something big, round, and so heavy that it required a team of oxen to pull, and made the cart's wheel's creak in protest. Layers of bulky fabric concealed its exact nature, but whatever it was, they were taking it towards Cang Qiong.

"We'll follow them," he told Ming Fan quietly. Ming Fan pulled his hand out of the bag reluctantly, but nodded.

They tailed them to an inn, where half the cultivators stayed out to guard the mysterious contents of the cart, while the other half went inside to get a drink. It was easy enough to slip inside after them, just two more faces in the dinner rush, and get a table near enough to them to overhear their conversation. They were mostly complaining of sore feet and aching muscles—whatever they were moving, they'd evidently been hauling it on foot since leaving Huan Hua Palace.

Shen Qingqiu didn't want to draw attention to himself by walking up and asking what they were transporting, but luckily, he didn't have to.

"What's in the cart?" a drunk man asked, peering out the window. "Is that treasure?"

"Like we'd tell you," said one of the cultivators, at the same time as another—a disciple by the looks of it—said, "It's a giant eye."

Was that…? Shen Qingqiu squinted, and yes—the disciple was the same one whose hand he'd broken. She looked miserable. Was this assignment a form of punishment?

The older cultivator gave the disciple a tired look, and sighed. "Don't even think about trying to take it. It's a gift from someone important, to someone important, neither of whom you want to annoy—assuming you get past all of us that were sent to guard it. Also, it's heavy. Without cultivation, you couldn't possibly hope to move it."

"What kind of gift is an eyeball? Isn't that a bit gross?" Another patron wandered over to the window, wrinkling her nose at the wagon. 

"You'd think so, right? But this one's from a Stone-Backed Lion," said the disciple, ignoring her senior's warning looks. "That means it's one big gemstone!"

"Again, don't even think about it," said the older cultivator as all eyes turned to the wagon. 

A Stone-Backed Lion's eye? It could only have been from the one they fought together. But why would Binghe send it to Cang Qiong Mountain? It was incredibly valuable; precious gemstones aside, the eye had qi channeling properties that made it excellent for advancing one's cultivation. 

A light release of qi in his throat was all he needed to alter his voice. "Who is the eye for?" he asked. 

"Shen Qingqiu," the disciple said, her face curling into a sneer.

Shen Qingqiu turned to stare at the eye.

Was this a threat, somehow? Perhaps it was meant to remind him of almost having died. If so, it was an awfully expensive and strangely helpful way to try to frighten someone.

...Unless was it a thoughtful gift, meant to assist in the recovery of his cultivation, and remind him of when their relationship had started to change for the better.

His mind raced, and that horrible little flame of hope flickered back into life.

"Ah, bad luck," said the drunk man. "Haven't you heard? Shen Qingqiu's gone missing."

"What?" The older cultivator was on his feet in a second, his face panicked. 

The drunk man listed to one side, seemingly unconcerned with the suddenly tense atmosphere. "Hey, you're all yellow. Does that mean you're Huan Hua guys? Isn't your sect leader a demon now?"

"Baseless rumors," said the cultivator grimly. "Now tell me about what happened to Shen Qingqiu."

Luo Binghe wasn't patient by nature, but if his trials in the Abyss and demon realm had taught him anything, it was that waiting for the right moment was crucial. As much as he wanted to storm Cang Qiong and demand that Shizun recognize his affections, he knew his courtship would be better received if he took things slowly. Their relationship had gotten off to a rocky start, to put it mildly—some extra time would only help to put their unpleasant past further behind them. 

He'd dispatched the first courting gift immediately, but the lion eye was so big and unwieldy that it would have to be transported by ground. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing, though. The time it took to get there would allow Shizun some breathing room to reflect on their time together, and to begin to miss him (and his cooking. What little he'd tasted of Qing Jing's food as a disciple hadn't been impressive).

Or at least, that had been the plan.

"What do you mean he's missing?" Luo Binghe snarled. 

The cultivator in charge of transporting Shizun's gift cringed. When Luo Binghe had gotten the emergency talisman he'd portaled here immediately, but no one seemed to know anything. 

"He disappeared from Cang Qiong a six days ago," the cultivator said. "When I heard the rumor, the first place I checked was with the local rogue cultivators, and they all say the same thing: Cang Qiong has been searching all over for him, with no luck!"

The other Huan Hua cultivators nodded frantically, looking miserable. 

"And no one knows why he disappeared? Or what direction he was headed?"

"No, Palace Master Luo, I'm sorry." The cultivator was shaking now, and ah—Luo Binghe's human mask was slipping, wasn't it? He could see the red of his demon mark reflected in the man's fearful eyes. 

He clearly wasn't going to get any answers here. He turned to go.

"What do we do with the eye?" a disciple asked from the back of the group, ignoring the other cultivators' attempts to hush her. She was one of the ones Shizun hadn't liked. He'd hoped that by making her do unpleasant drudge work, he'd please Shizun's spiteful side. 

"Deliver it anyway." Shizun might not be on Qing Jing Peak now, but he'd return eventually. If Luo Binghe had to pile gifts on his doorstep unopened until then, so be it. 

He wouldn't be able to find Shizun with his blood parasites—whatever had sealed them had left them alive, but muted. He could tell Shizun still breathed, but not much more. Luckily there were other ways to track a person.

Shizun was still awake when Luo Binghe entered the dream realm that night. Luo Binghe could sense him curled up anxiously on the edge of sleep, his mind a wild, vibrating buzz of fear and uncertainty. Luo Binghe reached out and slowly, carefully, pulled him under.

Shizun's dreams weren't any better. 

Luo Binghe looked up at the flames, his heart sinking. It had been a while since he'd seen Qing Jing Peak, but even like this, he couldn't mistake it for anywhere else. Worse, he recognized this scenario: in the Water Prison, right before Shizun had deviated, Binghe had described his plan to do exactly this. If Shizun remembered everything now—and by the lack of chasm between his two minds, it was safe to bet that he did—then he'd remember that, too.

Shizun was standing in front of the fire, his back to Luo Binghe. He was silent as the bamboo house collapsed into flames in front of him, as the forest filled with smoke, and as his disciples screamed in the distance. He must have heard Luo Binghe's footsteps approaching him, but he didn't move.

It wasn't right. Shizun was a lot of things, but apathetic wasn't one of them. Even in a dream he should be trying to stop this, should be trying to put out the flames and save his home and his students. But it was as if he was made of stone. 

"Shizun?" Luo Binghe said. He stood next to him, and from this angle he could see Shizun's face—frozen like the rest of him. "Shizun, can you hear me?"

Shizun blinked, and tears began to silently roll down his cheeks.

Luo Binghe's stomach sunk. "Shizun…"

"I saw the gift you sent," Shizun said, his eyes still on the flames.

That…wasn't what Luo Binghe had expected him to say. It did mean that Shizun had crossed paths with the cart, though, which gave Binghe a general location to search in. Luo Binghe tucked that piece of information away and nodded carefully, unsure of where this was going. "Did Shizun like it?"

"I did. It was…thoughtful. Genuine. Helpful." Shen Qingqiu frowned. "Did you send it to make me happy?"

"That's the general idea of gifts, yes."

"Our time together really meant something to you?" 

"It did."

"And would you say that you care for me now? Even just a little bit?"

"Yes? Shizun, what—"

"Then would you be willing to spare them?" He gestured at Qing Jing. "So much of the bad here—being bullied by Ming Fan, being given a fake cultivation book, being starved—that was all me. Shouldn't I be the one to pay? I know they're not innocent, but if I give you my life, wouldn't that be enough?"

"Your life?" Luo Binghe jerked back. Shizun turned to look at him expectantly, as if he'd just offered a fair trade for something at the market instead of trying to barter his own life away. "Shizun, I'm not going to kill you!"

"I know. That's the problem, isn't it? You were very careful not to let me die last time."

He wasn't wrong, but—"Shizun, I'm not trying to hurt you! I'm trying to court you!"

"Yes, and you're enjoying that game…for now," Shen Qingqiu said. "But when it's over—when you've won me and grow tired of me, or when I'm gone—" and Binghe did not like the sound of that, "—if this really does mean something to you, will you promise to leave Ming Fan and Cang Qiong Mountain alone? I know they're not innocent, but they don't deserve this." He turned back to stare at the flames. "I'm not even sure I deserve this…but I must, mustn't I? I thought it was deserved when I was reading about it, and the only difference now is that I'm not objective. No, that's not right—I have more information. I know Shen Qingqiu's backstory, and honestly, why did Airplane leave out the most compelling parts?"

"Shizun," Luo Binghe said softly, but Shizun didn't seem to hear him, too busy muttering to himself, his eyes full of reflected fire.

"I know how much I was hurt. I know why I did what I did. But does that matter? It doesn't excuse it. It just makes it…sad."

"I promise," Luo Binghe said, putting his hand on Shizun's shoulder.

Shizun blinked at him. "What?"

"I promise that I won't hurt Ming Fan or Cang Qiong."

"...Oh."

"Unless they attack me first, at least."

"That's fair." Shizun was quiet for a moment, and as he calmed, so did his dream fire. They watched it together as the heat of it died down, its fuel all burned.

Some time passed. When the forest had gone dark, and the smoke began to clear, Shizun asked, "Do you truly intend to court me?"

Luo Binghe smiled. "You doubt my intentions? Was the boulder-sized gemstone not enough?"

"Binghe, be serious. I've done horrible things to you. How can you forgive me?" He glanced sideways at Luo Binghe. The tears had stopped, Luo Binghe noticed with relief, but there was still a world of doubt and suspicion in his eyes.

"I could ask Shizun the same question."

"I suppose you could." 

Gradually, the dream began to fade. Shizun was waking up…somewhere. 

"Shizun," Luo Binghe said urgently. "Where are you? If you ran because you don't want to live at Cang Qiong anymore, then just say the word and I'll come get you. You can live with me instead."

"What, in your harem?" Shizun laughed.

"Why not? That's not such a bad life, is it?"

"There are worse fates," Shizun acknowledged. "But there are better ones, too. After everything I've done, is it arrogant of me to think I deserve a happier ending than that?"

The suggestion that his wives weren't happy stung—all the more so because Shizun wasn't entirely wrong. But that was fixable! Luo Binghe hadn't encountered a problem yet that he couldn't solve, and this would be no exception. 

He opened his mouth to protest, to say that his wives were cared for and protected and treasured—but the dream was already gone, and so was Shizun.

Now that Luo Binghe knew Shizun had crossed paths with the Huan Hua cart, it was easy to set spies on his trail. Under Mobei-Jun's direction, Shang Qinghua set up a net of humans (and human-enough-to-pass demons) to search for travelers matching Shizun's description, and added talismans at the centers of the major nearby towns that would respond to anyone with Luo Binghe's blood passing by. Within a day, they had a hit.

"There are two men traveling south, one of whom matches Shen Qingqiu's description," Shang Qinghua said, fidgeting nervously as Luo Binghe turned his attention to him. "The other might be Ming Fan? They said he looked a bit like a toad—and honestly, he's fine, the beauty standards in the world are just—never mind. Anyway, they're both dressed as peasants and were seen arguing over whether or not toad-guy should be calling the other one 'Shizun' or not."

"Show me," Luo Binghe said. 

"Yes, Junshang!" Shang Qinghua scrambled backward to make room as Mobei-Jun's portal swirled into being. Looking through it, Luo Binghe recognized it as a town not far from the one he'd visited the previous day. He had been so close to Shizun—perhaps even in the same city—and hadn't known it.

Before Luo Binghe could enter it, an emergency talisman flared to life in front of him.

He recognized it as one of the ones he'd given to all his wives to alert him of emergencies. They were simple enough that even non-cultivators could use them, and though their automation meant that they were too basic to hold a message, the meaning was clear: he was needed immediately. This one was keyed to the forest spirit, Mei Hua, but when he reached for her with his blood parasites, he couldn't sense any harm being done to her. She was still in Huan Hua, safe and in one piece.

If she wasn't bleeding out, then whatever she was upset about could wait until after he'd found Shizun. He tossed the paper on the ground.

"Er," said Shang Qinghua, eyeing the talisman. "Isn't that…?"

"It's unimportant. Show me to the people who found Shizun."

Chapter Text

The revelation that Luo Binghe would be willing to spare Ming Fan and Cang Qiong had been freeing. Shen Qingqiu felt like he could breathe again—or he would have felt that way, if Ming Fan would give him room to.

"I told you, you can go back to Qing Jing Peak," Shen Qingqiu snapped. He'd been trying to sneak out of their inn room while Ming Fan slept, but Ming Fan had woken up and followed him. Again. "I un-banish you!"

"How can you un-banish me if you resigned as Peak Lord, Shizun?" Ming Fan said, stubbornly following him out of the building.

"How can you still call me 'Shizun' if you recognize my resignation?" Shen Qingqiu wanted to scream. How was he supposed to do what was needed to get into the plant body if he couldn't ever get Ming Fan to leave? He didn't want Ming Fan to witness his temporary death or to find his old body. In an ideal world, they'd part ways on good terms, and that'd be the last Ming Fan would hear about him. "If you don't want to go back, fine—go start a new life somewhere like we'd originally planned, but either way, you don't need to follow me."

"I want to follow you, though."

"Well you can't."

"Why not?" Ming Fan's face—always so obedient and open, at least to him—was full of dark suspicion. "What are you planning to do, Shizun? We're getting closer to Huan Hua every day. If all this is to avoid Luo Binghe, why are we traveling towards him?"

There was no helping it. "Ming Fan," he said, sighing, "have you ever heard of the Sun-Moon Dew Mushroom?"

Ming Fan hadn't, and going by the look on his face as Shen Qingqiu explained it, he was not a fan. 

"It's only temporary," Shen Qingqiu reassured him. "I'd only be faking my death."

"By actually dying?"

He'd been worried Ming Fan would react like this. "It's the safest route," he said. 

Luo Binghe had said that he didn't want to deliberately hurt him, and as impossible as that seemed, Shen Qingqiu believed him. He hadn't thought Luo Binghe was gay, but he'd certainly been…enthusiastic during their night together. It wasn't hard to imagine that Binghe had enjoyed himself enough to want more. His gift certainly seemed heartfelt enough, as did his words to Shen Qingqiu in the dream.

But if his courtship was genuine, that only made it more dangerous. Shen Qingqiu knew himself well enough to recognize that he'd fall just as hard, if not harder, than the most besotted wife. And then what? Would he spend the rest of his life growing increasingly jealous of Binghe's other lovers? There was no part of him, not the spiteful child that was Shen Jiu or the possessive collector that was Shen Yuan, that would be able to peacefully endure that. He didn't want to go from being PIDW's scum villain to being the villain in some harem intrigue novel.

It would be better to just…not. 

Binghe would be disappointed, but he'd move on, and with time so would Shen Qingqiu. He'd be able to live a peaceful life of his own making—for the first time, really.

But Ming Fan was shaking his head and backing away, a wild look in his eyes. "This is too far," he said. "Shizun, you don't have any guarantee this will even work! You might end up just killing yourself!" 

He pulled out a talisman, and before Shen Qingqiu could stop him, he'd activated it.

"Ming Fan!" Not only would the talisman summon Cang Qiong, but the burst of qi required to activate it was far from subtle. If Luo Binghe was nearby, Ming Fan had as good as handed him a map with their location marked. "What have you done?"

"I've saved your life." Ming Fan's face was screwed up—half in horror at Shen Qingqiu's plan, half in fear of his retribution for stopping it. 

Had Ming Fan ever directly defied him before? He'd be more proud of how much his disciple had grown under literally any other circumstance.

Shen Qingqiu wasn't going to stick around and wait for Cang Qiong, not that it mattered. Within a few hours of taking to the road, shadows overhead signaled the arrival of his martial siblings. 

Ming Fan, who'd been trailing behind him from a safe distance ever since he'd activated the talisman, ran out to greet them. "Mu-shishu! You came!" he shouted. "We need your help! Shizun is having qi deviations again!"

Mu Qingfang was at Shen Qingqiu's side in an instant, his hands gentle but urgent as he checked for qi imbalances. "Shen-shidi's qi is unsettled, but not deviating," he said after a moment. 

"See?" Shen Qingqiu said, frowning at Ming Fan. "This was unnecessary. I told you I was fine."

"Fine? Shizun was talking about ending his own life!"

The rest of the Peak Lords, who'd been whispering as they eyed his and Ming Fan's peasant clothing and hair, went silent. 

"...Xiao-Jiu?" Yue Qingyuan whispered. He sounded heartbroken, and the way he was looking at him...

Shen Qingqiu grimaced. "There's more to the plan than that. Ming Fan is just making it sound bad."

"Because it is bad!" Ming Fan shouted.

"For once, Ming-shixiong is right," Luo Binghe said, stepping forward out of the shadows of the forest. 

The Peak Lords readied their swords, as did Ming Fan, but Binghe didn't react to their blades. He didn't seem to even notice them, his eyes glued on Shen Qingqiu. His qi was fluctuating wildly, and although his face was outwardly calm, his eyes were blazing red, as was his demon mark.

Shen Qingqiu swallowed. "Binghe."

"Shizun. Why would you plan such a thing?" Binghe's voice was rough with emotion—anger or despair, Shen Qingqiu couldn't tell. "I told you I wouldn't hurt you, wouldn't hurt any of them," he gestured angrily towards the Peak Lords and Ming Fan, "so why?"

"It was only going to be temporary!" And honestly, even if Binghe stuck to his word and didn't kill Ming Fan, Shen Qingqiu just might—what a fuss over nothing!

"That still doesn't explain why." An emergency talisman flared into existence in front of Binghe, and he tossed it aside without looking at it. 

Shen Qingqiu stared at the space where it had been. It'd looked familiar. "Was that from one of your wives?"

"Why, Shizun?"

He didn't want to give away the whole plan to Binghe himself, not when he still needed it, but Binghe sounded more upset than Shen Qingqiu had ever heard him. The qi fluctuations were getting worse—enough so that a Xin Mo backlash was becoming more and more probable—and there were what looked like actual tears in his eyes.

Shen Qingqiu felt his resolve begin to crumble. "There was a secondary body I've been growing that I'd have been able to escape into," he said reluctantly. If Binghe didn't know where the body was, did it matter if he knew of its existence? Shen Qingqiu could still use it if necessary. "You don't need to look so concerned. I'm alright, really."

"A secondary body to escape into," Binghe echoed hollowly. "Shizun, escape from what? How long have you been growing it?"

Shen Qingqiu hesitated.

"Shizun. How long?"

"...Since after our visit to the Ancient Aviary," Shen Qingqiu admitted. 

Luo Binghe went quiet for a moment, his face horribly still. "You've been planning this ever since I kissed you? Was it because I kissed you?"

"Since you what?" Ming Fan's eyes bulged.

"You would dare presume such a thing?" Yue Qingyuan said, his face rigid with fury. "After everything you've done to him—"

Binghe ignored them both. "Was my affection really so unwelcome? I thought you enjoyed our trips. I thought…" he trailed off, looking lost. Shen Qingqiu supposed that for the stallion protagonist, having someone truly want to avoid his overtures was a new experience—one he didn't seem to be taking well. "Shizun knows that I wouldn't have forced him, right? You could have said no."

"How could I say no to Binghe?" Shen Qingqiu said, his mouth twisting into a half-smile. 

"But if you didn't want it—if you didn't want me—"

"Who said I didn't want you?" Shen Qingqiu said, and oh—poor Ming Fan was looking nauseous now. Yue Qingyuan had gone pale as well, and Shen Qingqiu really didn't want to be having this conversation in front of an audience, but there was no helping it. "I do want Binghe, but so does everyone else. And how's that working out for them?" He nodded at the second emergency talisman that had popped up in front of Binghe. "How long before I'd turn into her, whichever wife that is—trying desperately to get your attention, and being ignored in favor of some new conquest? I don't want that."

Luo Binghe glared at the talisman like it had personally betrayed him. "Then what do you want, Shizun?"

"You know? I think that's the first time you've asked me that."

Binghe looked stricken. 

"To answer you: I planned on traveling," Shen Qingqiu said. "Once I got into the secondary body, I mean. There's so much of this world that I've read about but haven't seen. And then I died in that Water Prison, and wasn't that a shame? A whole life spent fighting to escape the misery I was born into, but even when I did, I brought it with me. And then I lived another life—and I know you don't believe me, I know you think it's a side effect of the qi deviation, but I did—and I got a chance to appreciate this world from the outside in. This time around, I want to enjoy it." 

"Xiao-Jiu…" Yue Qingyuan looked like he was about to cry, which—

"And don't even get me started on you," Shen Qingqiu snapped. "Did you know there's a beach in the north that's made entirely of diamonds? It has diamond encrusted plants and sea life, and I want to spend my time worrying about that—about being bitten by diamond sharks or something interesting—not about whatever is going on with you and that stupid sword of yours, and don't think I didn't notice you somehow managed to tie it to your life force, of all the idiotic things to do."

The ground under his feet rumbled ominously. Shen Qingqiu paused mid-rant.

Did PIDW even have earthquakes? The Peak Lords were looking around with confused expressions as well, which was never a good sign.

Even Binghe frowned, startled. "What—?"

He didn't get the chance to finish his question. A giant root smashed up through the dirt around his feet, wrapping around his waist and raising him into the sky. He pulled out Xin Mo, but before he could strike, a root lashed towards him. It stopped just short of hitting him, instead unfurling to throw a handful of used talismans into his startled face.

Binghe blinked. "Mei Hua?" he said, staring, as the unanswered talismans fluttered down around him.

More roots were shooting out of the ground, and at their center was a forest spirit, her face streaked with tears, eyes glowing green, and vine hair writhing with fury. Her silk robes were torn to shreds from her travel through the forest floor, and her nails were long, claw-like, as she pointed accusingly at Binghe.

"I called you!" she shouted. "I used all the emergency talismans you gave me! Why didn't you come?" She looked around, and her eyes narrowed as she spotted Shen Qingqiu. "Is it because you were too busy trying to tempt him back into your bed? I needed you. A-Wan is missing!"

"I'm sorry, back into your bed?" Ming Fan really did look sick now.

"I was going to visit you after I was done with this," Luo Binghe said irritably. "Who is A-Wan?"

She snarled wordlessly, then hissed, "Our daughter."

Oof. Shen Qingqiu grimaced.

Binghe shot a quick look at Shen Qingqiu, and some of Shen Qingqiu's horror must have shown on his face, because Binghe shifted guiltily. He sighed, then closed his eyes.

"She's safe," he said after a moment. "I can sense someone with my blood—someone small—at your old grove."

"Was that so hard?" Mei Hua snapped. She turned and disappeared back into the ground in a second explosion of vines.

Notably, she did not drop him first, leaving Luo Binghe to begin hacking away at the still-squirming root around his waist with Xin Mo.

Shen Qingqiu took the opportunity to quietly slip into forest's shadows. Binghe was distracted by his domestic affairs, as were the Peak Lords—the vines had snagged quite a few of them, too—making now the perfect time to slip away.

He'd only gotten a few steps when Binghe's voice stopped him. 

"Bring good boots."

"What?" Shen Qingqiu turned to stare at him.

"You don't need to die in order to travel," Binghe said. "If you want to see the world, then see it. But the Diamond Beach is sharp. You'll need good boots."

"Oh."

Could it really be that simple? He glanced at the Peak Lords. Yue Qingyuan looked like he was going through some sort of internal crisis even as he made short work of the root gripping his legs, but he said, "Xiao-Jiu will always have a home at Cang Qiong, no matter how far or long he travels. Just…stay safe."

Shen Qingqiu nodded. If he really didn't need the plant body—if Luo Binghe and Cang Qiong were actually going to step aside and let him leave—then he supposed he would. 

He turned and, without looking back, mounted his sword and flew away.

A-Wan was hiding in the branches of a tree in the grove's gallery hall. Her small frame and leafy tresses camouflaged her well, but she had Luo Binghe's blood in her, and he found her within moments of porteling in.

Her robes were torn, the same as her mother's were. She traveled via the roots, too—a new forest spirit power that she'd probably just grown into, and had used to come here.

"A-Wan, what are you doing?" Mei Hua called. She'd gotten there only moments after Binghe had, and had barely spared him so much as a glance even when he'd pointed out her daughter's location—which, given the circumstances, was fair enough. "Come down right now! Do you know how scared I've been?"

A-Wan only curled up tighter around her tree branch and glared down at them. Sometimes it was hard for Luo Binghe to wrap his head around the fact that the children running around the harem were really half-him, but like this, with her little face twisted in anger and her eyes flaring red, it was impossible not to see the resemblance. 

"Why are you here?" he asked. His voice wasn't angry—it was impatient at worst—but A-Wan still flinched. 

Luo Binghe had never hurt his children, but he hadn't been soft with them, either. The world was a harsh place, after all, and wasn't it better to prepare them to succeed than to coddle them? But now, looking at A-Wan's frightened face, he couldn't help but remember the washerwoman who'd raised him. He'd never been scared of her—had never flinched from her, or ran from her.

He'd been scared of Shen Qingqiu, though. He thought back to what he'd seen in Shizun's dreams—about how Shizun had suffered, and so had made Binghe suffer—and frowned.

Binghe hadn't intended to fall into that same pattern, but then again, Shizun probably hadn't, either.

At his frown, A-Wan shrunk back further. "You're taking mama away," she said sullenly, fearfully.

"What? A-Wan, I'm not going anywhere," Mei Hua said.

"You are! We have to stay with Nanny now, and Aunty Xin says the reason he came to see you," here she glared at Luo Binghe again, "is to give me another sister. I don't want another sister!"

Luo Binghe had asked Ning Yingying to get Mei Hua more help with watching the children, hadn't he? It seems like the children hadn't appreciated the change to their routine.

"You're not getting another sister, and the nanny is just for a few hours in the mornings," Mei Hua said, exasperated. "Your father was just trying to give me time to paint."

"But you don't paint. You said you can't without your trees," A-Wan said.

"A-Wan…"

"I want to paint, so I need the trees too."

"Is that true?" Luo Binghe asked Mei Hua quietly. "Do you need your trees to paint?"

"It's more like I need my trees to want to paint," she said, sighing. "A-Wan, we have trees at home. Get down here now and let's go."

"These trees are better," A-Wan said stubbornly, and shimmied higher into the canopy.

These trees were better. Luo Binghe had made the forest spirits' courtyards nice, but then Huan Hua Palace could never compete with one of the great wonders of the world. 

"You miss it here," Binghe said to Mei Hua. 

It wasn't a question; he could see how wistful she was as she looked around her old home. He could fix that—could uproot some of the grander trees and bring them to Huan Hua, could put more time and resources into their courtyards—but Shizun's words from earlier stopped him. 

"What do you want?" he asked instead.

Mei Hua looked at him in surprise. Then her face turned thoughtful as she looked around the gallery, frowning a little as she took in the overgrown walls. "What do I want? I suppose I want the loving, dedicated husband I was promised," she said. "Barring that, I want to return here with my children and sisters. These halls have been empty for too long. The children should grow up learning how to tend to them and defend them—their heritage, and responsibility."

"I won't move here," Luo Binghe warned. "The children won't have their father."

"They don't have him now."

He supposed that was true enough. Luo Binghe nodded. "You're not prisoners. You can leave anytime you want."

The backlash from Xin Mo was immediate and intense. 

How could he let go of something that was his? Was he weak? Incompetent? If the forest spirits were unhappy then he should make them happy. The only constant in his life had been his determination and iron will. Who was he if he just gave up?

He gritted his teeth and bore it. It was a different flavor of whisper than normal. He was used to Xin Mo's anger, was familiar with bracing against it, but this? This possessiveness? It sounded too much like his own voice, and if it wasn't for the suddenness of its onset, he might have mistaken it for just that.

He gave the sword a suspicious look. 

Mei Hua watched his qi flare cautiously, but when he didn't lash out, she said, "You offered us protection and support when you married us. You still owe us that."

"And you'll have it," he said. "It's the least I can do."

"It really is," said Mei Hua, but when she looked up at A-Wan, there was a spark of something—joy, or hope—in her eyes that he hadn't seen there in a long time.

News of the forest spirits' departure spread quickly through the harem. It wasn't long before other wives were approaching him with demands—for money, or political favors, or one last night—and then leaving. 

"It doesn't matter how long I wait, does it? You'll never really love me again," said one of the water demos, tears streaming down her face.  

"I don't think he ever did," said her twin, and they left. They didn't ask for anything, but they took back the ancient artifact they'd been guarding, along with a decent chunk of Luo Binghe's armory. Luo Binghe didn't stop them.

Others, like the warrior monk, were simply gone the next time he went to check on them.

Each new departure made Xin Mo thrash in his mind like a dying snake, and there were fewer and fewer wives every day to sate its fury with. Before long he was forced to wrap it in sealing talismans for his own safety. There were other swords he could use, though none of them were as powerful, and that decrease in strength was in itself enough for some wives to leave.

Qiu Haitang took it the worst, screaming accusations at him as she stormed out the door. Liu Mingyuan was almost as bad. She listened to his explanation of Shen Qingqiu's innocence in silence (he'd seen the true events of her brother's death in Shizun's dreams) and then had drawn her blade. 

"If you're lying, then you've sided with the man who murdered my brother," she said, resting the blade's edge against Binghe's throat—not a threat so much as a promise. "If you're telling the truth, then you tortured the man who tried to save him without first checking to see if he was truly guilty. Either way, don't cross my path again."

Not everyone left, though.

"Where would I go?" Ning Yingying asked when Luo Binghe approached her. "Back to Qing Jing Peak? I'm a traitor to them, A-Luo, and I have children that I can't abandon on a whim." The "unlike you" went unsaid. "There's no place for me there anymore."

She wasn't wrong, and the failure of it all stung him almost as badly as Xin Mo had. 

"Don't look at me like that," she snapped before he could reply. "Not with pity, not after everything we've been through. This might not be what I'd imagined as a girl, but I didn't freeze in time when you married me. I have new dreams and I've made a new life for myself here. Don't you dare belittle that."

Ning Yingying wasn't the only one to stay. There were plenty of women who did, either because they were comfortable or because they had nowhere else to go, but Binghe found himself visiting them less and less. His focus was elsewhere now.

"Did you get to see the Diamond Beach?" he asked.

Shizun nodded, and a dream version of the beach swirled into existence around them. The waves crashed onto sparkling shores underneath the moonlight, filling the air with dazzling sparkles as the water and crystals clashed together. "It destroyed my boots," he said, pointing—and his boots were torn to shreds, their soles barely more than ribbons.

"I did warn you," Luo Binghe said, smiling.

"What kind of boots could I have worn that wouldn't have been destroyed? Metal ones?"

"I used—"

"The hide of an Iron-Stag, I know. Not everyone has access to an immortal titan's hunting grounds."

Luo Binghe hadn't shared that story with Shizun yet. "Is that another detail from your book?"

It was difficult to believe Shizun's tale of dying, reading about this world as a fictional book, and then being reborn, but it was impossible to deny that he knew a lot about Binghe's life that he shouldn't have. In the end, Luo Binghe supposed it didn't really matter. Whether the book was real, or a product of qi-deviation delusions and some research, the result was the same: Shizun had learned and remembered all the details of his life, even the dark ones, and loved him anyway. 

Shizun nodded. "It was one of the trashier story arcs. There was this fairy who wore nothing but diamond beads—"

"Hmm. Yes, I remember that."

"I bet you do." Shizun gave him an exasperated look, then hesitated. "...I saw her there. I thought she was supposed to be in your harem."

"She left."

Shizun stared at him, shocked. "Left? But…how?"

"She asked to go shortly after the forest spirits did. Shizun, that book of yours, the one about my life—did you like it?"

"What?" Shizun still looked confused. "I—the book? No, not particularly. I liked parts of it—I liked you," and here he glanced away, his cheeks flushed. Adorable. "—and the monsters were fun. The ending was shit, though."

"How so?"

Shizun was silent for a moment. "You weren't happy," he said eventually. "You won every wife, and conquered every enemy, and in the end it was all just…empty. Xin Mo ate away at you, your wives grew to hate you, and the inhabitants of the combined realms viewed you as a despot. It felt pointless. Anticlimactic. You deserved better."

Luo Binghe wasn't entirely sure he did, but he'd take this second shot regardless. "Well, my wives are all leaving, so perhaps the story will end differently this time."

"Perhaps," said Shizun, watching him thoughtfully.

The Diamond Beach wasn't as interesting as Shen Qingqiu had hoped, but the Misty Mountains were exciting (occasionally too exciting, especially when he ran into the pack of Snake-Headed Badger Wolves) and the Bottomless Caverns were fascinating, if a bit damp. The money he'd gotten by pawning his valuables lasted him for months, and probably would have done so for longer if he'd tried to conserve it. But why bother? If Luo Binghe wasn't after him, then he had no reason to hide, and it was easy enough to pick up extra coin as a traveling cultivator.  

The sights were just as fantastical and awe-inspiring as he'd hoped. The monsters were great, too; if anything, Airplane had undersold them. He got to see the Flying Sting-Rays of the Southern Seas, the Tiger-Scorpions of the Emerald Desert, and the Shadow Moths of the Forest of Everlasting Night, and they were all so cool.  

This was PIDW, of course, so a good number of them tried to kill and/or eat him, but that was fun, too, in its own way. With his memories back, he was able to use his cultivation freely. It was still weak compared to what it might have been if his growth hadn't been stunted, but compared to his previous life, sick, with no cultivation at all? It was incredible.

Traveling by himself for so long might have been lonely, but he wasn't ever truly alone—at least, not for long.

"Are you enjoying the boots?" Binghe asked. He mostly stuck to visiting Shen Qingqiu in the dream realm, like he was now, but a few weeks ago he'd shown up via Mobei-Jun’s portal and delivered a new pair of boots to replace the ones that had been shredded by the Diamond Beach.

Shen Qingqiu hadn't bothered to try to hide his location. With Binghe, what was the point? Once the protective wards that had been painted on Shen Qingqiu's chest faded, which had happened after the first couple baths, Binghe could easily track him via blood parasites. So far all he'd done was deliver a gift or two—a meal here, a fan there. Small things, but enjoyable nonetheless.

"They're nice," Shen Qingqiu said. "I notice Mobei-Jun is portaling you around a lot, recently. Problems with Xin Mo?"

"I have other swords that are less troublesome to work with," Luo Binghe said, shrugging, as if giving up his golden finger and main mode of transit was no biggie. 

"It'll be hard to conquer the human realm without it, especially now that the sects know your heritage," Shen Qingqiu pointed out.

"The humans seem fine as they are. These days I'm spending most of my time in the demon realms."

Shen Qingqiu already knew that. Even if Binghe's disappearance from Huan Hua wasn't public knowledge, he couldn't have failed to notice that not only had the realms not merged, but recently the border realms had been unusually calm. 

"You know, I've been meaning to visit the demon realms," Shen Qingqiu said. "I hear the Acid Swamps are beautiful this time of year."

It turned out that the Acid Swamps were actually terrible that time of year, but Binghe assured him that they were terrible every time of year. Binghe gave him a tour anyway, and prepared a feast just like he had on their past dates. When he leaned in for a kiss, Shen Qingqiu met him halfway.

His travels took him into the demon realms more frequently after that.

They took him back to Cang Qiong as well. 

His first visit back to the bamboo house was just a brief stop to pick up a book that he hadn't initially taken with him. He found the house in good order, cleaned up and repaired, if a bit empty from his ransacking. The lack of dust or stale air was a clear sign someone was tending to it regularly—the mystery of who was solved when, as he was rifling through his bookshelf, Ming Fan entered.

"Shizun?" Ming Fan dropped his cleaning supplies and was by his side in an instant. "Shizun! You're back!" He looked like he was about to cry, and Shen Qingqiu hated to crush his hopes, but—

"Only for this," Shen Qingqiu said, picking up his book. But he stopped by the disciple hall on his way out, just to see how things were going, and on his next trip (to fetch a tea set he'd been missing) he spent a little longer there. Time and an outside perspective had been enough to show him that there was room for improvement on his peak, to put it mildly, and as he wandered through the classes, he found himself making notes of things that needed changing. He passed the notes on to Ming Fan to implement, but the next time he was through, he wasn't fully satisfied with how his instructions had been interpreted. 

"If this isn't what you wanted, then perhaps you should do it yourself," said an exasperated hallmaster as Shen Qingqiu pointed out the problems—because really, it was fine and all to have a reputation for being intellectually rigorous, but if ninety percent of the students were legitimately trying their best and still failing to meet expectations, then perhaps their instruction methods needed to be rethought. 

"I might just have to," Shen Qingqiu said, and when he'd finished following the winter Iceborn Albatross migration, he did.

He didn't stop traveling. There was too much in this world that he still wanted to see; not only was there an excessively high word count of wonders to explore, but he was coming across stuff Airplane hadn't even mentioned! But as time passed, his stops at Qing Jing had begun to lengthen, and before long he was there as frequently as he was away.

He went to Huan Hua once to visit the plant body—not to use it, but to collect the valuables he'd buried near it. Out of curiosity, he sent a pulse of qi into the ground and found that it had gone to seed, the roots that had formed his limbs growing deep into the earth, sending offshoots through what would have been his fingers and toes. 

It was useless now, but new Sun-Moon Dew Mushrooms would sprout from his failure. Soon there would be a whole garden of them growing here.

Perhaps, one day, they'd be useful to someone else. 

"You don't visit as often as you used to," Luo Binghe said, pouting. 

Had Shen Qingqiu really ever thought the protagonist was too cool to pout? It was practically his main character trait. 

Binghe hadn't taken Shen Qingqiu's increased time at Qing Jing well. When they were together, his hands clutched at Shen Qingqiu's body desperately, and when they were apart, he dogged his dreams, often showing up to continue their lovemaking wherever they'd left off in the demon realm. Like he was trying to do now, and while Shen Qingqiu couldn't deny that he was tempted, he actually did need to sleep occasionally.

He swatted Binghe's wandering hands with his fan. "Binghe, really. I was there a few days ago."

"You didn't even stay the night." The pout intensified.

"I had to get back. The trial for new disciples is tomorrow, and…well. It's been a while. Qing Jing could use some new students."

Binghe frowned. "Shizun is going to be busy if he accepts new disciples."

"Yes."

"He won't have as much time to travel."

"...Yes." Shen Qingqiu acknowledged. "But perhaps Binghe could, if his duties as Lord of the demon realms ever allow him a break."

Binghe's face turned thoughtful—never a good sign. "Will the Peak Lords accept a heavenly demon on Qing Jing?"

"Knowing Binghe, I don't think they'll have much choice." 

Shen Qingqiu had expected Luo Binghe to drop by soon after he'd made the invitation. He hadn't expected him to do so during the tea ceremony.

The new disciple screamed as Mobei-Jun's portal swirled into life and Luo Binghe stepped through. Binghe's demon mark and red eyes were no longer hidden by illusions, and his demonic heritage and power were displayed proudly on his face as he turned to frown at the new disciple. 

The disciple dropped the tea set.

"That was one of Shizun's favorites," Binghe said, nodding at the shattered porcelain on the ground.

"Binghe."

The disciple—a boy who'd just turned ten—started to cry. Shen Qingqiu sighed. "There's a second tea set in the kitchen. Try again."

The boy scurried off, and to his credit didn't flee for his life, but instead stopped in the kitchen to remake the tea. Binghe watched him go, still frowning, then took a seat beside Shen Qingqiu.

"He looks like me, Shizun."

He did. The boy was scruffy and underfed, and when Shen Qingqiu had chosen him, Yue Qingyuan had given him the most infuriatingly disappointed look. He thought Shen Qingqiu was going to make all the same mistakes again—and was doing nothing to stop him.

The idiot. Shen Qingqiu had managed to wrestle the story about Xuan Su out of him, and while knowing the truth of Qi-ge's abandonment did soothe some deep, festered wound in him, it didn't change the fact that Qi-ge was undeniably a bit stupid when it came to him. 

Mobei-Jun stepped through the portal next, followed by Shang Qinghua. Shang Qinghua was staggering underneath an armful of heavy boxes (and really, was Binghe moving in? Shen Qingqiu had meant to invite him to visit occasionally, not this!) and under Mobei-Jun's arm—

"Airplane?" The salamander was just as unhappy to be held by Mobei-Jun as it had been by Binghe. Mobei-Jun didn't look thrilled about the situation either. His clothes and hair were already damp from salamander slime, and his expression—always a bit grouchy—was particularly icy as he stared down at his cargo.

"What?" Shang Qinghua dropped the boxes, earning him a sharp look from Binghe. "Wait, did you just—"

"Where do you want this?" Mobei-Jun said, pointing at the salamander with his free hand. 

It was a mistake. As soon as the hand was within range, the salamander latched onto it and began to chew. Mobei-Jun's expression didn't change, but one of his eyes began to twitch. 

Shen Qingqiu figured he had about a minute before Mobei-Jun's irritation overrode his fear of Binghe, and Shen Qingqiu was left with a salamander-shaped icicle. "There's a pond out back, next to the Stone-Backed Lion's eye," he said. "You can put Airplane there."

Mobei-Jun nodded and left the house, dragging a still-stammering Shang Qinghua with him. 

When the disciple reappeared and saw Luo Binghe still there, he started shaking hard enough to rattle the cup, but he didn't drop it this time. He knelt awkwardly, his face pale, and presented his tea.

Shen Qingqiu took a sip. It was one of the worst cups he'd ever had—even worse than Binghe's, all those years ago.

He looked up at the disciple's terrified face, then nodded slightly. "Acceptable. Your Ming-shixiong will show you to the dormitories and help prepare you for your classes. You can find him outside—" Shen Qingqiu paused, listening, "—arguing with an ice demon who's holding a salamander. Ah, it sounds like the salamander might be biting Ming Fan, now. You should probably hurry before that escalates."

The disciple squeaked out something that might have been a thanks and fled the room. 

Binghe watched him go, his face dark. It was a familiar sort of darkness—the kind that came with seeing someone else get everything he'd ever wanted, and hadn't had. 

"He's not me, Shizun," Binghe said. "Treating him well won't change the past."

"Treating him badly won't, either," Shen Qingqiu said gently. "I tried that once."

Binghe gave a non-committal "hmm," but some of the tension in his expression eased. "I suppose if the past can't be changed, then Shizun thinks we should focus on the future?"

There were actually quite a few artifacts that could change the past, but Shen Qingqiu wasn't about to introduce Binghe to them. The amount of papapa that was required to fuel them was frankly unrealistic, and chaffing aside—if he changed the past, he might not end up here again.

"Is this your way of asking to move in? Don't think I didn't see all that." Shen Qingqiu nodded towards the pile of luggage.

"Shizun is a busy man," Luo Binghe said, shrugging. "He'll need someone to help feed Airplane." He went to the luggage and began to unpack, dragging an excessive number of black and red robes out of one of the chests and into the bedroom. There was no way it would all fit in Shen Qingqiu's modestly sized wardrobe, but by the huffing and rustling coming from the other room, Luo Binghe was giving it his best shot. 

Shen Qingqiu sighed. "Just buy me a bigger wardrobe," he said. "...And perhaps a bigger bed, while you're at it."

"Yes, Shizun," Binghe said cheerfully.

Having Binghe live with him would be an adjustment. They still had issues to work out, and Shen Qingqiu was not looking forward to the next Peak Lord meeting where he'd have to explain all this, but Binghe was right—he could use help feeding Airplane, even if was just having someone to sit beside him and keep him company as he tossed fish into pond.

Shang Qinghua poked his head back in through the front door. "Your salamander—uh, Airplane—chewed on Ming Fan's face a bit, and that's a sentence I never thought I'd say, but we got him settled into the new pond."

"Good."

"About that name—"

"Later," Shen Qingqiu said, getting up and following Binghe into the bedroom.

And there would be a "later." That was something he'd never felt secure in, either as Shen Jiu or as sickly Shen Yuan. But as Shen Qingqiu? 

He had time, and he had Binghe.

The rest would sort itself out.