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It is the day of the Cang Qiong Mountain Sect interpeak tournament and Liu Qingge is swinging his sword with fury thrumming in his veins.  

Shen Qingqiu dodges easily. If anything, the newly appointed Qing Jing Head Disciple is quick on his feet. On a normal day, Liu Qingge would be enjoying the fight. Would be enjoying the way the wind whistles through his hair as he and Shen Qingqiu’s swords collide in a flurry of light and action.  

Liu Qingge doesn’t enjoy it, too encompassed by his rage. The interpeak tournament is one of the only times that he can fight Yue Qingyuan, and it had become apparent earlier that the man was not participating.  

What reason could he have for such an action if not for the man before him? Liu Qingge had long since been made aware of the damn favoritism that Yue Qingyuan always shows Shen Qingqiu. He has been suspecting for a while, as has the rest of the mountain, that Shen Qingqiu held some kind of blackmail over Yue Qingyuan’s head.  

Liu Qingge snaps back to attention when he is almost caught off guard by a ruthless kick to his leg from Shen Qingqiu and realizes that he hasn’t been putting his full concentration into the fight. Shen Qingqiu has managed to push him back and had gotten him on the defensive.  

The arena is dead silent save for the sound of his breathing and the clanging of metal, the dirt beneath Shen Qingqiu’s boots flying back as Liu Qingge hits him with a particularly hard blow. The Bai Zhan head disciple doesn’t give him time to recover, lunging straight at him immediately.  

Shen Qingqiu scowls, and Liu Qingge is moderately pleased to find that he is putting in as much effort as possible as well to  win.  After all, it isn’t satisfying to defeat an opponent who is not dead set on giving their all.  

Shen Qingqiu’s teeth scrape together as he presses Xiu Ya against Cheng Luan in an effort to hold his ground. If he either gets pushed out of the arena or is simply defeated, he will lose. Even now, he is backed up to the very edge of the line, at which he is trying desperately not to cross in order to stay in the fight.  

Liu Qingge doesn’t show it, but he is no longer angry. His anger has transformed into exhilaration, his earlier upset gone. Has Shen Qingqiu improved again? He has gotten better since the last time they fought. His rate of improvement seems to have surpassed Liu Qingge, though he is still not as strong as him.  

Shen Qingqiu presses forward, and Liu Qingge, surprised by the brute strength hiding somewhere unseen in the thin scholar, finds himself backing up. He regrets that a moment later, having given Shen Qingqiu more space and allowing him to continue the fight.  

However, the Qing Jing head disciple is evidently exhausted, his breath coming out in short gasps and his neck bowing just the slightest amount before he seems to jerk alive and is coming at Liu Qingge again. His footsteps are heavier on the ground now, but he still easily surges forward, his footwork light and precise.  

This time when he narrowly avoids Xiu Ya coming for his neck, Liu Qingge actually smiles. After all, this is all he needs from a good rival.  

Then the trees come alive with the sound of rustling, and Liu Qingge finds it a futile endeavor to avoid his skin being sliced open with hundreds of tiny cuts. He manages to avoid most of them, but the remaining cuts in his skin make it there anyway.  

“Dirty tricks!” Liu Qingge snaps, once more enraged by Shen Qingqiu. He had thought that he would be fighting honorably, at least for the whole sect to watch. Shen Qingqiu  had  been fighting honorably, until now, that was.  

Shen Qingqiu doesn’t even grace that with a response, darting forward once more; not unlike a snake snapping forth to try and snatch up its prey.  

Liu Qingge is hardly prey, however, and knowing that it could be a dangerous move, he meets the blow head on.  

He feels a twinge of bright, sharp pain in his hand and wrist. It was a dangerous move, the amount of force that Shen Qingqiu could put behind an attack was nothing to scoff at.  

However, the reckless move has paid off. Ignoring the gasp swelling up from the crowd, Liu Qingge knocks Xiu Ya out of Shen Qingqiu’s formerly firm grasp. He knows better at this point than to give Shen Qingqiu time to fight back and is on him in a moment.  

Without Xiu Ya to ward off Liu Qingge, Shen Qingqiu ends up on his back on the ground, breathing harshly and weaponless. A hopeless situation, and Liu Qingge waits for him to surrender.  

It was a mistake to give him time, as before he has even caught his breath, Shen Qingqiu is up again. He kicks Liu Qingge off and then punches him in the face.  

Liu Qingge is so caught off guard by the fact that Shen Qingqiu knows how to  fist-fight  that he accidentally lets the man punch him again, this time in the chest. The Bai Zhan head disciple finds it hurting far more than it should and realizes that the blow must have been infused with Qi.  

Liu Qingge feels like punching Shen Qingqiu back. The battle was dragging on far longer than it should, even though it was clear that he would win. Xiu Ya has been knocked out of the circle, so Shen Qingqiu can’t even retrieve his sword. Liu Qingge thinks for a moment and then tosses Cheng Luan as well. Might as well make it a fair fight.  

Shen Qingqiu looks like he might fall over any second now, even as he dodges under Liu Qingge’s kick and trips him. Liu Qingge grits his teeth and simply throws himself at him. The force knocks Shen Qingqiu on his back and before he knows it the Qing Jing Head Disciple is on the ground once more, this time with his body halfway out of the ring. Liu Qingge presses him down, wanting to further establish that he had  won.  

Shen Qingqiu seems to have come back to himself. His eyes, for a moment after he had been knocked out of the arena, had stared straight up, reflecting nothing but the empty vastness of the sky above their heads. His gaze flares briefly with panic, but Liu Qingge doesn’t let up. Maybe Shen Qingqiu is enraged enough to try to attack him even after the fight has ended.  

“Liu-shizhi has won,” Liu Qingge hears the calm voice of the sect leader and jolts up, releasing Shen Qingqiu. He turns around and still hears the rattling breath of the Qing Jing head disciple as he staggers to his feet. Liu Qingge bows toward the sect leader, casting a sideways glance at Shen Qingqiu as he pulls himself up to bow as well.  

He wants to shout at Shen Qingqiu for continuing to use his tricks instead of fighting honorably, but even he knows that now is not the right time for that.  

“Congratulations to Liu-shizhi for coming in first place two years in a row,” comes the cool voice of the Qing Jing Peak Lord. Liu Qingge feels a burst of pride for that, he had made sure to personally bash Shen Qingqiu, then Shen Jiu, into the ground the previous year as well. If the Qing Jing Peak Lord is angry about anything, he gives no indication of it. Out of the corner of his eye, Liu Qingge sees as Shen Qingqiu becomes still.  

Liu Qingge frowns for a moment, before clearing his mind and nodding respectfully.  

The sect leader begins to thank all the participants, and Liu Qingge lets his mind drift. He notices first the crowd’s admiring gazes directed at him, and then Yue Qingyuan looking at Shen Qingqiu with concern. In the middle of his shizun’s speech, Yue Qingyuan walks toward Shen Qingqiu.  

Even Shen Qingqiu looks slightly disbelieving at that, though he hides it well. If it weren’t for the number of times that Liu Qingge has seen Shen Qingqiu’s eyes darken with rage, he would hardly be able to read the man. Oddly enough, it looks more muted today. Liu Qingge blinks, and doesn’t listen to Yue Qingyuan’s words, probably asking if Shen Qingqiu was alright or something like that. He never would admit it to his Da-shixiong, but he doesn’t see the point to Yue Qingyuan’s weird ritual around Shen Qingqiu. That scum can handle himself just fine. Liu Qingge hesitates, ready to just jump on his sword and leave. He resolves to do just that.  

Except then the Qing Jing Peak Lord walks up to them as well. “Yue-shizhi,” he admonishes. “Go back to your shizun.”  

Yue Qingyuan stands even straighter somehow and cups his hands respectfully. “Yes, Shi-shibo.” He leaves, then.  

“Qingqiu,” the Qing Jing Peak Lord addresses his disciple. Shen Qingqiu, though he must be exhausted from the fight, even more so than Liu Qingge, who is more tired than he gets after most nighthunts, stands to complete attention. “Come. We must address your disgraceful behavior.”  

Shen Qingqiu stiffens even further, but he nods. “Yes, shizun.” An unknown emotion flashes in his gaze as he sends a last glance at Liu Qingge before he turns around to follow his shizun.  

As the pair leave, Liu Qingge vaguely feels that he should be satisfied. Shen Qingqiu is going to be punished for using his dirty tricks, isn’t he?  

Instead, Liu Qingge doesn’t feel much of anything. Sure, he thinks that he might want to sleep away the tiredness for a little, but he also finds himself staring after the Qing Jing Peak Lord and his head disciple as their figures grow smaller in the distance.  

He doesn’t really find it odd that they left while the sect leader was giving a speech, or that the sect leader had allowed it. Still, he kind of wanted to follow them, to demand- or ask,  something.  It was frustrating, being on the very edge of knowing something but not quite. Trying to scramble over a fence but finding that your leg has been caught by a gap in the wood.  

His thoughts are slipping out of the usual pattern. For some reason, Liu Qingge is suddenly very aware of the ground beneath his feet. Shen Qingqiu and his shizun are mere silhouettes in the distance by now. The speech and whispered conversations around him become mundane chatter, which morphs into white noise.  

Liu Qingge stands still and looks the way of Qing Jing Peak until the sect leader has finished, and the crowd begins to disperse. Then he shakes his head, attempting to scatter the odd thought, and heads back to Bai Zhan.  

–  

Liu Qingge twirls around, narrowly dodging a sharp sword thrust from Ji Jue. He punches his shidi hard enough to the point where he can hear the bone give way and crack.  

He flies quite a long distance and lies there, unmoving. Liu Qingge can already see some Qian Cao disciples jumping out from their hiding places to grab him and carry him to the healing peak.  

This day is reserved for physical training, meaning that everyone on the peak had to keep their cultivation, excluding the additional physical strength they gained from it, firmly suppressed. Only those off in the Lingxi Caves, or in the designated Qi rich spots specifically for cultivating breakthroughs on lower levels were allowed to utilize their inner abilities.  

Liu Qingge always manages to catch at least a few cheaters. He doesn’t particularly know why they continue to act up, they know by now that he will give them a harsher beating that would definitely end up sending them to Qian Cao. It could be because they think that they require more teaching, with their absent shizun. Liu Qingge never bothered to think more of it.  

Once he has finished participating in the mandatory sparring session, Liu Qingge wipes off the sweat that had accumulated on his brow, tossing the towel away carelessly. It lands perfectly in the wash bin, for whatever outer disciple that still needs more physical training to carry halfway down the rocky cliffside of the mountain to that singular pool of spring water reserved for dirty laundry.  

He doesn’t quite feel that roaring urge to fight something or someone as soon as possible, the fight earlier with Shen Qingqiu has satisfied that. Liu Qingge is, for once, among the first to leave the training fields. He got some strange looks for that.  

Liu Qingge walks to the Bai Zhan head disciple’s quarters and then collapses into his bed. He is out the moment that his body meets the mattress.  

–  

After Liu Qingge has slept, he realizes two things.  

One, he should probably sleep more. He doesn’t even know how much more refreshed he was after resting, and probably never would have if he hadn’t done it. It has probably been a good month since he has last gone to sleep normally, though there was that time his shizun had knocked him out for breaking some of his shidis’ bones.  

The second thing was, he is  worried  about Shen Qingqiu.  

What a ridiculous thought. The two of them have no goodwill for each other, and he can easily handle himself despite being a spoiled little lordling all his life. However, the Qing Jing Peak Lord is surely going to punish him, and Liu Qingge isn’t sure that Shen Qingqiu can handle it.  

Well- he has certainly never heard of that scum ever actually being punished by his shizun before. What he has heard are all the whispers and rumors about the Qing Jing Peak Lord’s abnormal favor.  

So, despite knowing that it is certainly a bad idea, Liu Qingge makes his way toward Qing Jing Peak. No one stops him- the only person on Bai Zhan that could possibly have a say in any decision he makes is his shizun, and she is currently nowhere to be found. Probably off killing all the great beasts in some new area before Liu Qingge could get to them.  

Eyeing Cheng Luan in its sheath, Liu Qingge picks it up on the way out. If Shen Qingqiu isn’t happy to see him, which, well, he never is, then he will content himself with a fight.  

Liu Qingge studiously ignores the fact that fighting is all that he ever goes to Shen Qingqiu for.  

The instant that Liu Qingge sets foot on Qing Jing Peak, he hears the whispers. The green clad disciples send wary glances at him, it makes sense, as Bai Zhan often performs raids. This time, however, Liu Qingge hears the whispered  Shen-shixiong  and  tournament.  

A little more heightening of the senses allows him to hear what they are really muttering about.  

“-stuck up bastard finally got what was coming for him.”  

“Maybe now he’ll finally lose all the favoritism that shizun holds for him.”  

Liu Qingge frowns. First Yue Qingyuan, and then the Qing Jing Peak Lord. What is so good about Shen Qingqiu, to have some of the most powerful people in the martial world so inclined to pave his path for him?  He isn’t even grateful about it!  

Liu Qingge lets out his breath slowly, silently so that none of the disciples gathered away from him notice. The other Qing Jing disciples have never really crossed his mind before; it was like how one would think of an enemy commander rather than the common soldiers of an army. Though, now it seems now that Shen Qingqiu is far from their leader.  

“Bet he can’t even take five lashes from shizun’s whip.”  

“Perhaps shizun will appoint a new head disciple eventually, if Shen-shixiong keeps up what he usually does now that shizun’s mad.”  

Liu Qingge’s steps had slowed down, and he kept his pace steadfast and still at the same speed as it had been previously. He is fairly certain that after someone is given their generational head disciple name, they couldn’t be replaced outside of extreme circumstances. He supposes that it isn’t completely out of line, as the Qing Jing Peak Lord practically had Zhangmen-shibo in the palm of his hand. Liu Qingge briefly wonders if that relationship is something learned through their predecessors.  

The disciples begin to move on to other matters, so Liu Qingge strides on ahead until he is out of earshot.  

Liu Qingge has been to Shen Qingqiu’s house many times before, has occasionally broken down the door as well. Noticing the different type of wood used as a replacement for the entrance, Liu Qingge recalls that last time the two of them fought, he had come to Shen Qingqiu after he had stopped coming to Bai Zhan for a month.  

Shen Qingqiu had given him a good fight, then. Just what Liu Qingge had been looking for; what his shidis couldn’t give him.  

Liu Qingge glances at the door and carefully opens it. Despite Shen Qingqiu’s insistence otherwise, he can use his brain. Giving Shen Qingqiu more to deal with currently would be a most unwise decision. The Qing Jing Peak Lord has a reputation for being an effective teacher, yet ruthless and prone to mood swings. Still, it is hardly possible that he would remove Shen Qingqiu from his position because of something like this, as he is widely known to be a very intelligent man. Had proven it, too, with the number of papers written by him that Liu Qingge was forced to read in his youth.  

Liu Qingge takes it as a good sign that the house hasn’t been sealed firmly shut with seals or talismans. With how Shen Qingqiu is, he thought that the moment the man suffered any sort of indignity, he would shut himself in his room for a month to sulk.  

He has never really paid attention to the interior of Shen Qingqiu’s house. Normally, when Liu Qingge came by looking for him, Shen Qingqiu would come out and fight him in some secluded area of Qing Jing Peak’s bamboo forest or the training hall. Now, he sees that there are a few practical belongings stacked on shelves along the walls. The house itself looks fairly small, surprising for a future peak lord, but perhaps Shen Qingqiu sees no point, as he will gain ownership over his shizun’s house after he ascends.  

As he walks along, Liu Qingge begins to wonder if Shen Qingqiu is absent from his quarters. There are three doors leading away from the front room, which seems to have most of the items of value, like several instruments, paints, brushes, and the surprisingly large stack of paperwork that Shen Qingqiu seemingly has already completed.  

One room appears to just be a side closet, with its door slightly ajar, allowing Liu Qingge to easily peer inside. There were a lot of books and scrolls piled up in there, appearing to be organized despite the sheer volume.  

Liu Qingge turns his gaze past the entrance to the bedroom and to the closed door. Too late, he realizes that he had forgotten to knock before he had entered the house.  

“Who’s there?” snaps Shen Qingqiu’s sharp voice from behind that same closed door. Liu Qingge hears the sound of running water and then the telltale clunk of a half full bucket being placed on the ground. He hears a few drops slosh, then fall out onto the ground.  

Liu Qingge takes a step forward, closer toward the door. It is then that the smell hits him, the stench of blood far too strong for the inside of a scholar’s house. Hurriedly, Liu Qingge crosses the rest of the distance and then opens the door in order to see what was happening.  

The first thing he notices is the way that Shen Qingqiu is holding his robe, looking as if he is about to throw it over himself. Then the rest of his mind catches up with exactly  why  he would want to do so.  

There are shreds of torn cloth floating in the water already, the liquid turning pink from the blood that has seeped from it into the bathtub.  

On Shen Qingqiu’s back, is the rest of the shredded fabric, which have turned out to be his under robes. It looked as if he had been in the middle of peeling away the remains of his clothes from where the discipline whip and his own slick blood had pressed them into his skin.  

Liu Qingge and Shen Qingqiu both stand frozen, the brief moment of silence only interrupted by the steady drip of carmine from Shen Qingqiu’s back before the Qing Jing head disciple whirls around and scowls at Liu Qingge.  

“What do you want?” Shen Qingqiu asks, and if looks alone could kill, Liu Qingge would be long buried.  

Liu Qingge doesn’t call him out on his rudeness or even get angry at all. His mind is still frozen in shock. Shen Qingqiu had to have been lashed over fifty times, perhaps even a hundred. It was a death sentence for mortals, and still certainly was nothing to scoff at for cultivators of their level.  

“Why would you keep fighting me like that if this was going to happen?” Liu Qingge blurts out, because he needs to know if Shen Qingqiu had been punished like this before because of their fights. The previous year, Shen Qingqiu had fought similarly, hadn’t lasted as long, but perhaps the Qing Jing Peak Lord had gone softer on him because he had only recently joined the sect then. Perhaps Shen Qingqiu hadn’t expected to be punished so harshly this time.  

Shen Qingqiu rolls his eyes, a comment or complaint about Liu Qingge’s social skills surely on the tip of his tongue. However, he undoubtedly knows that Liu Qingge wouldn’t listen and only wants answers currently. “Don’t inflate your head too much, brute. This wasn’t because of you.”  

“It wasn’t?” Liu Qingge feels a strange sense of relief and then shakes it away. “Then what was it for?”  

Has Shen Qingqiu done something in the time since the interpeak tournament? Perhaps he was finally punished for always going to the brothel- could he have ‘slept’ away the defeat at the tournament?  

Liu Qingge can feel his face reshaping itself, his eyebrows furrowing and mouth curving down.  

Shen Qingqiu glares at him. “Get  out.  I’ve answered that question of yours; do you have to stand here and watch me?”  

Liu Qingge knows that Shen Qingqiu is very prideful. He knows that Shen Qingqiu couldn’t possibly appreciate Liu Qingge witnessing him being brought even an inch lower than usual.  

Liu Qingge has never cared to dance around subjects that may hurt Shen Qingqiu’s pride. He doesn’t move, staying still and simply watching Shen Qingqiu.  

Shen Qingqiu lets out a frustrated sigh, reaching further behind on his back to tear away at the scraps of fabric. His fingers are shaking. Liu Qingge wonders how badly it hurt. He has been whipped before – it wasn’t a particularly  rare  punishment – in lighter cases because he had beaten his shidis too severely. In a worse one, he had actually been the one to submit himself for punishment. The event had already been a surprisingly long time ago in the past, before Shen Qingqiu had even entered the sect. It had been because he had shot off ahead on a mission, leaving his then rival, the former head disciple, alone so that she wouldn’t hold him back.  

It turned out, the demon they were hunting was a small-time demon realm noble and was aware that their group was after his head. He had gone after his shijie after Liu Qingge had left. She had killed him. Liu Qingge had come back frustrated and ready to admit that he needed her help only to find her bloodied corpse and the demon pinned to the ground with her half-broken sword.  

The lashes that he had subjected himself to back then had been administered as his shizun looked on. Normally, his shizun would be the one who would do so, but his dead shijie had been her daughter, and she didn’t trust herself not to go harder on Liu Qingge. So, the lashing had been given by a hallmaster with trembling hands, making it less painful.  

That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt at all. Liu Qingge had to grit his teeth through the pain, and he had committed every lash to memory. It was a painful and cruel memory, seventy-five blows for Liu Qingge’s sins. Afterward, he had copied down books on camaraderie and had been forbidden from leaving the sect on missions for a year. It was what made hearing Shen Qingqiu’s answer so unbelievable.  

“I was merely unable to live up to shizun’s expectations,” Shen Qingqiu says. Another few drops of his blood fall on the floor. It is far too loud for Liu Qingge’s ears. “This one truly wonders how Liu Qingge will be able to stomach punishing his disciples in the future, if he is so appalled by the mere sight of a human’s blood.”  

There is probably a hidden barb in those words, Liu Qingge can register it dimly. He doesn’t feel particularly like calling it out, however, as he is stunned into silence.  

“What?” is all that Liu Qingge can choke out.  

“Has Liu-shidi gone deaf all of a sudden?” Shen Qingqiu sneers, mockingly. “Surely his mind can comprehend what I’ve said, at least.”  

“What did you do?” Liu Qingge asked.  

“You still want more conversation?”  

“If you don’t tell me, I’ll go ask Shi-shibo myself,” Liu Qingge says. The words are out of his mouth before he can really think them through, and as he says them, he thinks that would actually be a terrible idea. He sees it in the way that Shen Qingqiu pales and his nails dig into the palm of his skin, nearly drawing blood.  

“Fine, have it your way. I simply could not complete a task of mine properly.” Shen Qingqiu sounds so nonchalant about it that Liu Qingge finds himself wondering how he can make the answer sound so snide. He hadn’t been aware that Qing Jing Peak’s standards were quite so exacting. Was the sect leader aware? Or is Shen Qingqiu simply covering up more misdeeds that he had done, omitting the important part of the reason he was punished? He wouldn’t put it past Shen Qingqiu to mess up on an incredibly important project and then make it sound better than it actually was when he explained.  

“W-”  

“ Out ,” Shen Qingqiu says, and this time is firmer than all of the others, accompanied by a searing hot look of hatred. Despite how injured Shen Qingqiu is, Liu Qingge cannot find it within himself to go for the throat this time. Instead, he is out the door before Shen Qingqiu can say another word.  

It is only when Liu Qingge is once again walking past the disciples from Qing Jing that had been gathered since earlier that he realizes the stench of Shen Qingqiu’s blood has followed him outside.  

Maybe he should have helped Shen Qingqiu. Liu Qingge knows how to bandage wounds, though he has never tried it on someone else before. His steps come to a stop on the smooth gray path beneath his feet and his eyes catch on a swaying tuft of grass. He could go back now, if he wanted. He is pretty sure that it would be the right thing to do, the personality of the man he would be helping aside.  

There are Qing Jing disciples on the stone roads a short distance away from them. When they go silent, Liu Qingge knows that the opportunity for retracing his path is gone. The purposeful steps that resound through the clearing a moment later only solidify that loss. Like a cold winter’s breeze, a cool blast of air pushes at Liu Qingge’s hair and the grass below when the newcomer walks into the scene.  

A flutter of long, elegant robes brushes against him and Liu Qingge looks up to see the Qing Jing Peak Lord gliding past. The Bai Zhan head disciple’s gaze lingers just a little bit more than normal as his eyes follow the man. He is walking toward Shen Qingqiu’s quarters.  

–  

Liu Qingge, despite everything, can think rationally. He knows, he  knows  that his shibo must surely have a good reason for such harsh punishments, and who couldn’t say that Shen Qingqiu did something that deserved it? Shen Qingqiu might have lied about the reason. There is no way in hell that he would want Liu Qingge involved in his personal business, especially if it was as illicit as his visits to the brothel.  

Nevertheless, his thoughts are clouded by what he had seen the previous few days, and he is very distracted by it. Even his shidis pick up on it after a lucky strike from one of the youngest junior disciples nearly manages to connect with his chest, his dodge only fueled by instinct. The boy looks thrilled, before a sweep of Liu Qingge’s leg sends him flying. He gets a lot of odd looks for it, but his shidis know to keep out of Liu Qingge’s business by now, unless he specifically tells them. He has beaten that into them himself.  

As always, fighting soon becomes all that is on Liu Qingge’s mind. He easily slips into age-old habits, only stopping when he is covered in sweat and all of the other Bai Zhan disciples are lying on the ground, swords scattered all around the field.  

Liu Qingge wonders if he should try to challenge his shizun. He used to spar with her every so often, but nowadays she was more likely to be in the demonic wastelands than the sect. She used to stay at the sect for most of the year, only leaving to dispose of troublesome monsters. Now, most disciples will count themselves lucky to even see her thrice a year.  

Liu Qingge has considered chasing her down for at least a spar. Instead, he stays back at the peak. His guilt no longer eats him alive, but sometimes it reappears when he sees the flash of something miserable when she looks at him. Liu Qingge contents himself by beating up all those who he hears calling her the Mad Dog of Bai Zhan. It’s a title that has popped up more and more often in the sect, the longer that the peak lord was gone.  

The Bai Zhan head disciple shakes himself out of his thoughts as his shidis slowly get up from the ground and begin hauling themselves to Qian Cao. Personally, Liu Qingge thinks that they are too weak. Unable to even take a beating and troubling the healers to pick up their slack. Training harder should serve to make up for it.  

He doesn’t say anything, but his disapproval is always clear in his gaze as his shidis shrink away.  

At this rate, there was no way that they would surpass  Mu Qingfang , let alone Shen Qingqiu, whom he has heard had already given several beatdowns to them. Liu Qingge knows that they have always wanted to defeat him, but there would be no way that would happen unless they had a century to prepare.  

–  

Liu Qingge doesn’t know a lot of things.  

He doesn’t know that head disciples are expected to have at least some sort of combat prowess before they are selected to be the future peak lord. All of them were heavily trained in at least self-defense, but that doesn't mean all of them are able to put up a fight against Liu Qingge. At the very least, it should be enough to survive assassination attempts. If anything, most Bai Zhan disciples would be put to sleep by Mu Qingfang before they could draw their swords.  

Liu Qingge doesn’t know that his shizun’s daughter had been her last family, and that she rarely returns to the sect because seeing him on a daily basis would end with her stabbing him through the chest with her sword, in the throes of Qi deviation.  

Liu Qingge doesn’t know that on the day before the interpeak tournament, Shen Jiu had been kneeling at his shibo’s feet.  

The Qing Jing Peak Lord’s face twisted into a cruel smile as he gently stroked the top of Shen Jiu’s head.  

“Qingqiu, the interpeak tournament is coming up.” His eyes close, and along with the smile, he looks approachable and kind. Shen Jiu doesn’t dare look up, but he can pinpoint the exact moment when his shizun’s eyelids fall upward and his gaze turns cold and flinty. “You can win, correct?”  

Shen Jiu swallows and stills the slight tremors that had begun at his shoulders. He can’t win; he won’t be able to beat Liu Qingge. He hates him, despises the young master born with a golden spoon and a bright future, wants to beat his face until it becomes unrecognizable, wants to shove his face to the ground, make him eat dirt.  

Shen Jiu can’t do it.  

Both of them know it.  

“This disciple,” he begins, cool and collected. “Will endeavor to do so.”  

His shizun smiles again. “Qingqiu, I would hate to have to resort to this, but if my disciple is unable to win, wouldn’t it show how he was unable to uphold the expectations as my successor?”  

Shen Jiu keeps his eyes on the ground, pressing down on the bottom of his lip, hard. Anger swirls within him, furious and burning. He bites it all back.  

“However,” the Qing Jing Peak Lord continues thoughtfully, as if he wasn’t practically batting around Shen Qingqiu’s future, not unlike a cat with a ball of yarn. “If Qingqiu can place high enough, removing him from his position would be too extreme. Perhaps, if he does so, but still does not win, this shizun would be content with just a small punishment.”  

Shen Jiu’s tone is monotonous when he responds. “This disciple thanks shizun for his leniency.” Those words are fake and they both are aware that Shen Jiu would like nothing more than to plunge Xiu Ya straight into his shizun’s stomach. He only doesn’t because he is no match for the Qing Jing Peak Lord.  

“Wonderful!” Shen Jiu’s shizun beams.  

The two of them sit in silence for a moment or two before Shen Jiu looks up. His shizun is sitting so much higher than him, and though in reality it isn’t a particularly long distance, it feels like an immense, yawning chasm, their gap in strength. Perhaps it would make him despair eventually, though Shen Jiu doesn’t think it likely.  

“Shizun, is this disciple dismissed?” Shen Jiu asks, after another beat of silence. Slowly, dread curls in his chest, as he had asked the same question before, many times. Often, far too much for his liking, the answer was no. He thinks that his shizun likes making him guess whether or not he will have to stay back, making him wonder what might be in store for him.  

The Qing Jing Peak Lord hums, picking up his fan from his table and tapping it lightly against the hard surface. He tilts his head, acting like he is considering the question, when in reality he must have long already decided the answer even before they began conversing.  

“Yes,” he says. “Qingqiu must have time to prepare before the tournament.”  

“Yes, shizun,” Shen Jiu responds. He stands slowly, picking himself up off the floor. He bows to his shizun and leaves the room, forcing his stride to be steady and not too quick.  

Finally, when he is outside, the door shut firmly behind him, Shen Jiu lets a hateful sneer twist his features. Of course, he will train, even with such a limited timeframe, he will strive to improve himself as much as possible for the tiny sliver of hope that he can succeed. Then, of course, he will lose to Liu Qingge. As he always does.  

Shen Jiu's head is held high as he makes his way past Qing Jing Peak’s training fields and into the bamboo forest, where he’d spent many nights already, practicing into the long hours of morning. Tonight will be no different, not even the results.  

One day , Shen Jiu thinks, he will grind Liu Qingge’s pretty face into the dust below his feet. He’ll drag his shizun and all the high and mighty nobles on this mountain into the mud, only then will he be satisfied.  

Shen Jiu knows that it’s impossible. He’ll be the one dragged into his own fate, kicking and scratching all the way.  

–  

While the peak lords have their monthly meetings, so too do the head disciples.  

Neither is held at once, with one at the beginning of the month and one at the end. Only one day apart, though if required the disciples could be brought in to observe their elders’ discussions.  

Liu Qingge has managed to keep his mind free of Shen Qingqiu for a good while, but now that he is in the same room as the man he cannot help but observe him.  

Usually, Liu Qingge would be more subtle. He never really tried to outright antagonize Shen Qingqiu during the head disciple meetings, as he knows that it certainly wasn’t the time or place for it. Everything here is supervised under Yue Qingyuan’s watchful eye, anyways, so it would simply be a bad idea.  

Now, however, he has been staring straight at the man for half the meeting.  

Liu Qingge has noticed that quite a few of his martial siblings are watching him, now, at least the ones that have caught on. The rest are still chatting, as the head disciples rarely were put in charge of anything of political importance without their shizuns watching. In reality, the head disciple meetings were just used to try and keep them close to each other.  

Shang Qinghua, as usual, looks nervous, but that anxiety seems heightened as his eyes flit from Shen Qingqiu and Liu Qingge. It’s almost comical; he looks like a man waiting for disaster. Qi Qingqi’s eyes are as sharp as a hawks, and she is peering at them with that unnerving stare that so resembles many of the other disciples at Xian Shu Peak. Liu Qingge really hopes that when his sister grows up, she doesn’t join the fairy peak, as he does not want Mingyan to mingle with them.  

Shen Qingqiu himself has likely caught on as well. Ever since a little after the beginning of the meeting, while unnoticeable to most people, Liu Qingge notices that he has been shifting ever so slightly every once in a while. Normally, the man sat as still and rigid as a statue, so it was clear that he had seen.  

“Liu-shidi,” Shen Qingqiu finally speaks up, and his voice is far too silky and sweet, filled with hidden thorns just waiting to dig into him. “Is there anything that you require from this shixiong?” His eyebrow twitches minutely and Liu Qingge realizes that he is  pissed .  

Liu Qingge realizes that Yue Qingyuan had been a part of their audience when the man’s pupils shift directions far too fast right before Shen Qingqiu even begins speaking. Liu Qingge himself hadn’t even noticed, as previously his Da-shixiong had been conversing with their drunken shidi.  

“No,” Liu Qingge replies. The rest of their martial siblings seem to have been drawn in like the audience of a particularly action filled play. No one says a word until Shen Qingqiu speaks.  

“No?” Shen Qingqiu raises a delicate eyebrow. “Is that all?”  

“Mn.”  

“Surely,” Shen Qingqiu enunciates, as if dealing with a troublesome toddler. “Liu-shidi has a reason to stare at this shixiong all meeting. Spit it out, why don’t you, so that you don’t keep us all waiting.”  

Normally, there would already be many people disagreeing with him. However, it seems that everyone else there is already curious. Though, the way that Yue Qingyuan shifts somewhat indicates his discomfort, despite his face still being fixed in his seemingly permanent smile.  

Liu Qingge frowns, and he sees quite a few of the others tensing up, expecting a fight to start any second now. Although swords were not allowed in the meeting hall, in an effort to keep the peace from their shizuns, Shen Qingqiu himself had personally demonstrated his aptitude for weaponless close quarters combat during the tournament. Liu Qingge was a Bai Zhan disciple, that was really all that needed to be said.  

Yue Qingyuan raises his arms in a pacifying gesture, but before he opens his mouth, Shen Qingqiu stands up. “If that is all, this one will assume that there is nothing else to be discussed during this meeting. Unless there is something useful that must be talked about, this one will be taking his leave.”  

Shen Qingqiu moves from his seat to the door in a motion that doesn’t look hurried but is still clearly an effort to leave as soon as possible. The speed of his movement to the exit is indication enough.  

“Wait.” Liu Qingge’s arm shoots out and he grabs Shen Qingqiu’s sleeve. The man is still moving, so the cloth tears apart. Liu Qingge registers that half of Shen Qingqiu’s sleeve is in his hand when Shen Qingqiu spins around and very nearly elbows him in the face.  

Shen Qingqiu’s arm hits empty air and the force of what he had been attempting to throw into Liu Qingge’s face is revealed as the Bai Zhan head disciple’s hair is blown back by the gust following the blow. Liu Qingge scowls and prepares himself for a fight, settling himself into a posture ready to both attack and defend.  

He doesn’t get to throw a punch, as he notices that there is a peculiar shape that Shen Qingqiu’s sleeve had been covering. Liu Qingge eyes it and realizes that Shen Qingqiu’s arm is decorated in a pattern of bruises and even a few bite marks.  

“What.”  

Shen Qingqiu is practically spitting fire at this point. “What? What do you mean, what, you brute?! Speak up and use your words, instead of tearing my clothes apart like a beast!”  

“What is that?” Liu Qingge gestures toward Shen Qingqiu’s arm.  

Shen Qingqiu looks down and his eyes widen. Several things flit through them all at once, and surprisingly, Liu Qingge sees fear among them. For a moment, he wonders if he had seen it wrong. It was just so uncharacteristic of Shen Qingqiu.  

“What?” Shen Qingqiu’s voice is cool and calm. “I thought that Liu-shidi would be used to seeing injuries accumulated from sparring, at least from seeing them on his juniors that he is supposed to be teaching.” That jab is accompanied by a roll of his eyes, but Liu Qingge cannot muster up enough rage immediately.  

The thing is, Liu Qingge has fought against the other scholars of Qing Jing. The few people who actually were able to put up a decent fight there still bored him, and he had left them all in the dust years ago anyhow. Except, of course, for Shen Qingqiu, who he suspected could wipe the floor with them with his eyes closed. No one on Qing Jing except the hallmasters and peak lord, unless they were hiding a secret supreme talent, could cause Shen Qingqiu to even struggle.  

Shen Qingqiu looks sincere in both his annoyance and truth. The second thing is, Shen Qingqiu is a good liar.  

Liu Qingge’s brows scrunch up in thought, and it is only when he looks up that he realizes that Shen Qingqiu has already left the hall. Gone like the wind, fast and sudden just like it. The rest of his martial siblings look at him like he is an explosive, ready to burn up in a lethal burst of fire. Shen Qingqiu’s sudden absence sort of makes him want to, with the ignition of his fury at the thought of how he had so easily just slipped beneath his notice and disappeared from sight.  

Fled, to avoid talking to Liu Qingge any longer.  

Liu Qingge shoots after him, to the relief of his martial siblings, chief among them Shang Qinghua. He soon finds that Shen Qingqiu has left the mountain altogether, instead of retreating to Qing Jing like he had assumed. The peak lord himself throws him off the scholar peak, citing that he is disturbing the peace.  

Liu Qingge returns to Bai Zhan and destroys twenty training dummies in his rage.  

-  

The newly crowned Bai Zhan War God is out slaughtering whatever he can get his hands on when he is stung by a peculiar looking insect.  

The bug is bright purple, with a few darker ridges and a crimson stinger. It looks like a combination between a wasp and a dragonfly, with the former’s abdomen and wings and the latter’s upper body. The tiny spikes running out from its body prick Liu Qingge’s arm and alert him to the insect’s presence even before it actually stings him.  

However, the brilliant red stinger is already pricking into Liu Qingge’s arms as he turns to look. A starburst of white-hot pain singes from the place where he had been pricked, before he swats the insect away. For added measure, he grabs it out of the air as it lifts into flight and burns it up with a quick application of Qi.  

Later, after he is oddly out of breath after he defeats an enormous demonic snake, Liu Qingge thinks to examine himself.  

His bloodstream is highlighted by the purple spreading from the many tiny pinpricks from his hand. There are more such veins visible starting from where he had been stung earlier on the arm, though there is a much larger flow that is dotted with red as well.  

Liu Qingge holds a hand to his head, finding himself dizzy. He finds that the ground is rushing at his face far faster than it should, and notes distantly that he must be passing out.  

-  

It is a week later when Liu Qingge enters Qian Cao on unsteady feet.  

Mu Qingfang is angrier than Liu Qingge had ever seen him. The Qian Cao head disciple looks like he is about to pop a blood vessel- his face turns redder and redder the more he scolds Liu Qingge as he examines him. He falls silent after checking Liu Qingge’s right arm and finding that it is as good as paralyzed, and a vivid shade of purple to boot.  

Unlike most times, Mu Qingfang doesn’t even explain to Liu Qingge what procedure he would be performing. Liu Qingge knows well enough that he will have to have something done to him, so he doesn’t flinch away when Mu Qingfang draws out his needles.  

The healer shuffles through a large system of cabinets, sealed behind several complicated talismans. After withdrawing a few bottles, he dips his needles into them and plunges them into Liu Qingge with unnerving speed and accuracy. It doesn’t hurt, it never does, but this time, Mu Qingfang looks like he wants it to. The look on his face is enough to convey that.  

Liu Qingge doesn’t mind angering most of his martial siblings, so it doesn’t bother him. In fact, he is distracted by a commotion farther away from them, close to the entrance from where he had walked into the building when he had finally determined that the poison wasn’t something that he was simply able to ignore.  

“Liu-shixiong,” Mu Qingfang continues what was probably a long rant that he hasn’t been paying attention to. “As I was saying, the Poison Thorned Red Sting is a monster that spreads its venom through the bloodstream to paralyze and eventually kill its victims. You surely must realize that when your bloodstream starts being visible from beneath your skin, especially if the color or even just the tone is changing, you must get it checked out immediately.”  

He waits for an answer, so Liu Qingge gives a slight, “Mn.”  

Mu Qingfang inhales deeply before plastering a smile on his face. “Liu-shixiong-”  

“What’s going on over there?” Liu Qingge interrupts. The sound of shouting is getting closer to him. Vaguely, he can hear what they are saying. Trying to extend his senses farther out, Liu Qingge listens.  

“Shibo-”  

“High-priority patient-”  

“Musn’t be-”  

“Shi-shibo!”  

Liu Qingge tilts his head. “Shi-shibo is here.”  

Mu Qingfang frowns. “Shi-shibo? Ah, Shen-shixiong was brought in earlier.”  

“Shen Qingqiu?” Liu Qingge’s attention is finally drawn to Mu Qingfang. “Why?”  

Mu Qingfang shrugs. “It’s probably the usual. I wasn’t called over, so it couldn’t have been any more dangerous than what he usually has.”  

Liu Qingge narrows his eyes. “You don’t know?” He flexes his arm slightly. It’s easier to move now, still stiff but no longer completely paralyzed.  

“Liu-shixiong!” Mu Qingfang very nearly shouts. “I have to take the needles out of your arm first! I would suggest limiting the movements of your arm for a while after as well-”  

He shuts his mouth, a resigned look on his face, when Liu Qingge pulls out each and every acupuncture needle on his own and tosses them to the side.  

Liu Qingge pauses. He can hear the sound of rapid footsteps growing closer.  

“I think they’re here.”  

“They?” Mu Qingfang doesn’t get a response from Liu Qingge. A moment later, the Qing Jing Peak Lord, followed by a small group of Qian Cao disciples, slams the door open.  

“Where is Qingqiu?”  

The Qing Jing Peak Lord’s voice is not loud, but it seemed so in the deafening silence that took over the hall as soon as he arrived. Mu Qingfang snaps into a more respectful and rigid posture than the one he had been assuming before and gives a courtesy nod to their shibo before he speaks.  

“Answering Shi-shibo,” Mu Qingfang says. “Shen-shixiong was brought in earlier by one of his shidis.”  

“Who was it?”  

Mu Qingfang’s posture drops a little lower- their shibo’s mannerisms have a way of radiating authority and power. “Apologies to Shi-shibo, this one is unaware”  

“Which Qian Cao disciple is taking care of him?” Shen Qingqiu’s shizun asks, and though his face is not set in a glare, his eyes are as cold as the northern desert of the demon realm. While Liu Qingge has never been; he was strictly forbidden, he knows that it is covered in snow all year round. That by itself is enough for a place to be called ‘cold’, is it not?  

Mu Qingfang hesitates for a moment, but ultimately it is an unspoken rule to never disobey the Qing Jing Peak Lord  –  really, the Ming generation in general, but it could be said that he is the least easy going among them. Even more so than his shishu from Ku Xing, and that was saying something.  

“Feng-shidi,” Mu Qingfang says carefully. “In room two of the high priority ward.”  

Neither of them is surprised when the Qing Jing Peak Lord turns and immediately begins striding toward the place that Mu Qingfang had spoken about. Liu Qingge notices the unusual favoritism, and it seems, protectiveness, that the Qing Jing Peak Lord has involving his head disciple with a sour feeling. Not everyone in the sect has the favor of their shizun, and yet he acts as if it is a mere trifle.  

Mu Qingfang makes a slightly apologetic expression toward Liu Qingge and hurries off, trailing behind the Qing Jing Peak Lord. He gestures for Liu Qingge to stay behind and take a seat.  

Liu Qingge begins following him. His Qi levels have not recovered yet, so he is unable to mask his footsteps without suffering from Qi deprivation. Mu Qingfang, noticeably, does not act surprised.  

The Qian Cao disciple, Feng-shidi, looks up when he hears the door open, and promptly goes white in the face at seeing the important figures that had barged into the room.  

Shen Qingqiu is lying on one of the clean hospital beds of Qian Cao, his outer robe missing but everything else still in place, even his hair crown. He’s going to feel that discomfort later for sure. Disciple Feng is holding his wrist, either passing Qi or examining Shen Qingqiu’s meridians. Beside them on the table lies a variety of empty bottles, the majority empty. Liu Qingge recognizes them as the Qi calming potions that he often used to see his shizun take a few gulps from as she went about her day.  

Feng-shidi stands ramrod straight, though he soon bows deeply to the Qing Jing Peak Lord. When the man gives a vague gesture that could be interpreted as allowing him to stand at ease, he begins speaking.  

“Shen-shixiong has had a grade two Qi deviation- ah, it was not particularly damaging. It would be recommended to not use Qi for a week, but if it must be done it is advisable to not participate in strenuous activity.” Feng-shidi’s eyes shift to the side. “Such activities would include long sessions of sparring, extended use of qinggong, and, er, dual cultivation.”  

The Qing Jing Peak Lord nods, his face smooth and unbothered. “This master will be sure to limit such activities for Qingqiu. Could he be moved back to Qing Jing for now?”  

Although the statement was phrased like a question, Liu Qingge squints at his shibo, unsure about the littlest bit of pressure that he had felt from the words. Feng-shidi nods, giving a glance to Mu Qingfang as he did so, and seems encouraged when his shixiong does not say anything against his words.  

The Qing Jing Peak Lord reaches out to pick up Shen Qingqiu, and Liu Qingge is moving before he knows it.  

Shi-shibo looks at Liu Qingge, who has grabbed his outstretched arm before it could reach Shen Qingqiu. “Could this master inquire as to why Liu-shizhi felt the need to stop him?”  

Liu Qingge glanced at his arm, and then up at the Qing Jing Peak Lord’s face. Shi-shibo is tall, and though not a mountain of a woman like his shizun, he easily towers over most others in the sect.  

The way that he looks down his nose at Liu Qingge seems almost... condescending.  

Liu Qingge supposes that it makes sense. Bai Zhan and Qing Jing’s infamous rivalry has stirred up quite a few harsh feelings against each other, and to be honest Liu Qingge is far more comfortable with disobeying the Qing Jing Peak Lord than any other one of his shibo. Not that he would, under normal circumstances, of course. It had been drilled into his head to respect his elders since he was a young boy.  

Now that Liu Qingge thinks about it, he isn’t quite sure why he had intercepted his shibo. There is no reason that he could think of, other than that he had just decided to do it. It’s odd, but he knows how to take responsibility for his actions.  

“Isn’t he still unwell?” Liu Qingge asks, staring Mu Qingfang straight in the eye.  

Mu Qingfang coughs lightly, a hand over his mouth. “The Qing Jing medical ward is perfectly usable. Shen-shixiong shouldn’t need any intensive treatment since he’s consumed those Qi calming potions.” He strokes his chin, considering. “Although, I suppose that it would be beneficial to send some more over with him.”  

“Is that so?” Shi-shibo tilts his head to the side slightly with effortless grace. Liu Qingge releases his arm when it becomes clear that the Qing Jing Peak Lord would listen to Mu Qingfang. “Then this master will have to trouble Mu-shizhi.”  

Feng-shidi, looking slightly unwell from witnessing the confrontation, runs off to ask another disciple for assistance. He was replaced with a serious looking senior disciple, who hands a qiankun pouch to the Qing Jing Peak Lord, checks Shen Qingqiu’s pulse and meridians, bows, and leaves the room.  

This time, when the Qing Jing Peak Lord reaches out to Shen Qingqiu, Liu Qingge doesn’t stop him. The man gently lifts him, an arm beneath his knees and at his back. Liu Qingge felt slightly puzzled by the twisting feeling in his gut.  

However, he stays still as the Qing Jing Peak Lord thanks Mu Qingfang and leaves. His gaze follows them as they depart, Shen Qingqiu’s legs and tipped-back head visible from behind, or rather in front, of the Qing Jing Peak Lord.  

Once both of them were soundly out of earshot, Mu Qingfang lets out the long sigh he must have been holding back the entire time. He sinks down into the seat beside the patient bed and rubs at his forehead, rigid posture from earlier thoroughly disintegrated.  

He turns his eyes to Liu Qingge; his glare full of anger that Liu Qingge has never seen from him before. “Liu-shixiong, never do that again.”  

Liu Qingge eyes the exit before he feels the tiny pinpricks of needles on the back of his neck. He turns around to see Mu Qingfang’s deadpan expression, an arm with more needles held in between the fingers prepared to launch more. A wave of vertigo washes over him, causing him to stumble on his feet.  

The last thing he hears before being swept under is Mu Qingfang’s second tired sigh.  

-  

Liu Qingge, recently, has not really thought of the fact that Shen Qingqiu is a backstabbing lech who enjoys worldly pleasures far too much for a cultivator. He had been more concerned for the man’s wellbeing, which, in hindsight, was a ridiculous thing. Shen Qingqiu knows how to take care of himself, knows how to crush his opposition below his feet. What Liu Qingge should have been focusing on was getting stronger so that he wouldn’t end up among those being trampled.  

These are all the thoughts that flicker through his mind as Liu Qingge storms over to the Warm Red Pavilion. Fury makes his steps swift and his sword flight smooth. Makes him push past any and all crowds with disregard for anyone that he accidentally jostles or knocks over.  

The brothel isn't a particularly lavish nor downtrodden place, it seems to be well off without being extravagant. If Liu Qingge were to really think about it, he wouldn’t be able to really say why Shen Qingqiu would want to frequent such a place. He assumes that it was because it was the closest one to Cang Qiong Mountain. That does sound right. Though it often doesn't seem like it, Shen Qingqiu does care about practicality. Sometimes, when it is necessary.  

Liu Qingge has been to the brothel only a few times, but the scenery is etched with detail in his mind. He is trying to stop the name of Cang Qiong from being disgraced by Shen Qingqiu, after all. Not to mention preventing him from damaging his already unstable cultivation, evidenced by the Qi deviation he had only a few weeks prior.  

Surprisingly, Liu Qingge’s most senior martial brother, Yue Qingyuan, is standing in front of the Warm Red Pavilion. He notices when he dips down on Cheng Luan, landing with a light thump beside the man. Yue Qingyuan doesn’t look surprised to see him.  

Liu Qingge’s Da-shixiong isn’t wearing his head disciple uniform, having replaced them with some inconspicuous gray robes typically stashed aside for the event that an infiltration mission was necessary. He likely was trying not to draw too much attention to the fact that Shen Qingqiu is here, acting like the scum of society.  

Once again, the favoritism over someone who hardly deserves it rankles Liu Qingge. If Yue Qingyuan were to act kindly yet distant, it should be fair to keep the part up for everyone, was it not? That is the only flaw that Liu Qingge can find in his manner, everything else is picture-perfect.  

“Liu-shidi.”  

Yue Qingyuan nods at Liu Qingge like he is not standing right in front of the establishment that Shen Qingqiu is dirtying both himself and the face of their sect in. Liu Qingge grants him a brief, harsh nod out of respect.  

“Shen Qingqiu is here,” Liu Qingge says, short and to the point.  

For once, Yue Qingyuan doesn’t smile. “Indeed.”  

Liu Qingge sheathes Cheng Luan, though he suspects that he may have to draw it once again very soon. “I’m going in.” His voice is firm, decisive. It is just to make Yue Qingyuan understand that his mind could not be changed.  

“Liu-shidi,” Yue Qingyuan begins anyway. “It may not be wise to intrude on a mortal es-”  

He is cut off as Liu Qingge kicks down the door, wood splintering and easily giving out beneath his foot. The main hall now revealed, the remains of the door fly to the opposite wall and collapse in a heap of destroyed planks.  

The front hall of the brothel has two symmetrical curving staircases leading up to a large balcony that overlooks everything else. On the bottom floor, there is entertainment that doesn’t involve any sexual acts. The music that had been ringing through the hall had abruptly ceased when Liu Qingge had barged in, however. So had the dancing women, who now stood still in their fancy garments, stage, and the groups that they had been performing in.  

A small, mousy looking girl jumps up and darts up the stairs, into a room that Liu Qingge knew far more intimately than everything else in the brothel.  

The doors to the room on the second floor were where the most important or high paying guests were sent to, while the first floor was for the more average. Liu Qingge had acquired such information while listening to one of his shixiong’s talk back when he had been new and no one else knew how far he would go for honor’s sake. That shixiong had been expelled from the sect not long after.  

Back when Liu Qingge had first begun coming down the mountain to drag Shen Qingqiu back to Cang Qiong, he had gone straight for the second floor. He had the next time as well, and the next after that. Shen Qingqiu never even bothered changing the room that he stayed in. He probably knew that Liu Qingge would search the whole brothel if he wasn’t where he was expected to be.  

So, Liu Qingge marches straight up the flight of stairs without hesitation. Yue Qingyuan pauses for a moment, but he ends up choosing to follow Liu Qingge.  

The Bai Zhan head disciple moves to kick open the door, but before he can it is swung open, and his boot meets empty air. Liu Qingge lowers his foot.  

His gaze sweeps through the room lightning fast. His eyes narrow upon seeing the girl who had run upstairs earlier, now apparent that it was to warn the others. She holds his stare with trembling hands and squared shoulders. Her brief moment of courage doesn’t amount to much, as he immediately fixes his glare onto the man lying on the wide bed in the center of the room.  

Shen Qingqiu is fast asleep, evident by the slow rise and fall of his chest. Liu Qingge pauses for a moment, surprised at the rare display of a Shen Qingqiu not always ready and willing to fight. That brief moment of peace doesn’t last for long, as Liu Qingge registers the two women sitting on the bed and the one other halfway off of it.  

“I’m taking him back to the sect,” Liu Qingge announces. It may not be a command, as he is not ordering anyone to do anything, but it is very much a statement that does not allow any contradictions. Not that Liu Qingge was expecting any, which is why he is surprised when one of the women begins to speak.  

“You will  not, ” she hisses between gritted teeth. Her glare is similar to Shen Qingqiu’s as it is clear that she cannot win and yet she tries to posture and make it seem possible either way. Unlike Shen Qingqiu, she can’t even put up a good fight.  

“If you’re worried about financial compensation,” Liu Qingge says, “I’m sure that Shen Qingqiu will pay you once he’s back at the sect.” Or maybe he wouldn’t. Liu Qingge really isn't sure.  

If anything, the woman’s glare only becomes more venomous. One of her fellow prostitutes, one of the ones lying on the bed, stirs slightly. She rubs blearily at her eyes, waking up due to their conversation. As soon as her eyes catch on Liu Qingge, she snaps to attention.  

“Leave, you dumb brute!” she shouts immediately after laying eyes on him. “Haven’t you caused enough trouble for us already?”  

That is when Yue Qingyuan enters the room, still looking hesitant about intruding. Liu Qingge glances at his shixiong as Yue Qingyuan lets out a small gasp. His eyes are fixed on Shen Qingqiu’s sleeping form.  

Liu Qingge, oddly enough, feels something odd about the situation. Brothel workers defending their client could make sense, especially because of how much Shen Qingqiu has surely spent so far. He thinks back to the time of the latest head disciple meeting and frowns. Maybe Shen Qingqiu was lying, and those marks had been... a result of his interest in the Warm Red Pavilion.  

As soon as that thought comes, Liu Qingge dismisses it. The ever lofty and sneering Qing Jing head disciple thinks that he is on top of the world, he would never let himself be the one who ends up with bruises decorating his perfect, supple skin.  

Liu Qingge thinks nothing more of it and moves to pick up Shen Qingqiu.  

As soon as his hands nearly touch the man, he feels the rush of wind behind him. An indicator of an oncoming attack. Yue Qingyuan shouts a warning, and Liu Qingge spins around. He grabs hold of the wrist of, surprisingly, the mousy looking brothel worker. She had attempted to stab him with her hairpin, however, a closer look showed that the fine point is shinier than it should have been. Wet, and likely dipped in poison.  

Liu Qingge scowls ferociously, tugging the item from her grasp. Once he has it in his hand, a quick application of Qi is enough to crush it into dust. She backs away from him, and Liu Qingge feels almost insulted by the warning noise that Yue Qingyuan makes. He wouldn’t go so far to harm a mortal that really has no chance against him, he just wanted to make sure that she wouldn’t be able to pull the same trick again.  

The recently awoken woman on the bed’s eyes widen, and she shoots to her feet. Quickly pulling the head of her junior down with her, she bows to Liu Qingge.  

“Apologies to the immortal master! A’Yu is still young and foolish, please disregard her attack! She certainly did not mean to cause any lasting harm.” The woman’s glare toward ‘A’Yu’ is harsh.  

“Hua’jie!” the mousy girl cries. “I-”  

“Shut your mouth!” hisses the older. “Go downstairs and wash the dishes! Help out the cooks!” Liu Qingge recognizes the frenzied panic in her gaze as not unlike some of the prey animals that he’s hunted down and finds himself disconcerted at the thought.  

Yue Qingyuan wordlessly steps out of the doorway to allow ‘A’Yu’ to pass by as she hurries away. As her footsteps grow fainter, the mood of the room drops even further. It’s just Liu Qingge, Yue Qingyuan, a sleeping Shen Qingqiu, three unknown women, one still asleep, and silence.  

Finally, that uncomfortable quiet is broken when Yue Qingyuan speaks. “This one should now take Qingqiu-shidi back to Cang Qiong.” Liu Qingge thinks that normally, that phrase would have been stated as a question, a request for permission. This situation is far from normal, so he doesn’t dwell on it.  

The woman rolls her eyes, but doesn’t say anything else. She sits on the edge of the bed with crossed arms, on the same side as the other, sleeping prostitute. Before Yue Qingyuan can move to pick Shen Qingqiu up, Liu Qingge does so. He isn’t expecting a sneak attack from the back this time, but he is still prepared for it. It never comes.  

“Wait,” the brothel worker says, right as Liu Qingge is halfway out the door. “Take the back exit. Don’t go around parading that your shixiong goes here in his free time.”  

Nothing in Liu Qingge’s gait shows it, but he turns that piece of advice over in his head for a moment. It is surprising that the woman would care about Shen Qingqiu’s reputation; that isn’t something that matters when a man like him comes to visit.  

Liu Qingge shrugs it off and does indeed find the back exit.  

There are no pointing fingers or hushed whispers this time, as he exits the Warm Red Pavilion. Granted, Liu Qingge takes off into the sky in an empty alleyway behind the brothel. It would be more surprising if there was someone, even ten people, to do something like that.  

Yue Qingyuan is unusually silent during the flight back. It’s usually Liu Qingge who has to be coaxed into conversation, which still rarely lasts more than five exchanges. Funnily enough, Yue Qingyuan is infamous for having the same kind of luck with Shen Qingqiu.  

His shixiong seems to snap back to himself when the two of them are nearly back on Cang Qiong Mountain. Yue Qingyuan fixes his face into his perfect smile and begins speaking again.  

“Can I trust Liu-shidi to keep the details of this... situation to himself?”  

Liu Qingge presses his lips together but he doesn’t disagree. At Yue Qingyuan’s waiting look, he utters, “Fine.” The smile he gets in return feels oddly unnerving. The both of them continue forward, landing on one of the rainbow bridges.  

At the entrance of Qing Jing Peak, Yue Qingyuan stops, almost seeming hesitant. When Liu Qingge turns to look at him, he gestures for him to continue on.  

Wordlessly, Liu Qingge turns away once more and walks the rest of the way into Qing Jing Peak. From the moment he steps inside, he can feel the weight of each stare on him, or rather, Shen Qingqiu’s limp form.  

When the first disciple approaches him, Liu Qingge stops and listens when he begins to speak. He looks like an adult, at least. Could be responsible enough to tell him what needed to be done.  

“Ah, Liu-shixiong,” he begins, his smile foxlike and cunning. “Could you please hand Shen-shixiong to me? I’m sure that you can understand why none of us want an outsider to drag him around, don’t you?”  

Liu Qingge very nearly obeys, wanting to wash his hands of the affair entirely. However, for some reason, he pauses. The Qing Jing disciple’s voice is familiar, and with a start, Liu Qingge recognizes him as one of the gossipers from when he had come to Qing Jing that time before. Suddenly, Qing Jing Peak comes into view as what he has already known it to be- a den full of bloodthirsty, venomous snakes. He can almost see how one would curl, coils wrapping around unfortunate prey, as the disciple holds his arms out, expectant.  

Without exchanging a single word, Liu Qingge pushes on, completely ignoring the man.  

He seems stunned for a moment, before he follows hurriedly, his steps loud shuffling with the background of shocked, silent onlookers. “Look here, Liu-shixiong-”  

Liu Qingge knows the way to Shen Qingqiu’s house. He decides that he needs to make his own plans, just passing Shen Qingqiu onto the nearest Qing Jing disciple would clearly be a bad idea.  

The simplest option would just be to drop him off at his house and leave him before he woke up. Speaking of Shen Qingqiu waking up, it was downright surprising that he hadn’t yet. Instead of staring at Shen Qingqiu’s face like he wants to, Liu Qingge keeps his head held high and eyes turned straight forward as he strides quickly toward the Qing Jing head disciple quarters. A few more try to stop him, but he elects to continue to ignore them.  

Maybe Shen Qingqiu hasn’t slept in a while? Or maybe dual cultivation has some more added effects that Liu Qingge has never paid attention to or learned about. It isn’t as if any Bai Zhan disciples with cultivation partners are exempt from the normal training, and he has already heard some complaining about how there was barely any satisfaction to be gained when you were exhausted from just a normal day. That was only the outer disciples, though. Most hallmasters and inner disciples keep their mouths shut about their private life, and they are the only ones with Qi levels that can perhaps hold a candle to Shen Qingqiu’s.  

Liu Qingge very nearly lets out a sigh. It comes out an annoyed huff of breath. Who knows why he’s going to these lengths to worry himself over  Shen Qingqiu  of all people. What he is going to do is leave Shen Qingqiu at his house and then go on another nighthunt in a few days. On Bai Zhan, the disciples mainly chose their own missions from the large board in the center of the peak. There were always exceptions, of course. The most talented were occasionally given high priority missions that required the most strength.  

The board should be refilling now that Liu Qingge has been away for a short while- last time he had swept every paper off and left for a months-long series of nighthunts. It is what he plans to do again, and again after that was completed.  

He shifts Shen Qingqiu so that he is holding him with one arm once he’s in front of his house. The man is feather-light, though perhaps that shouldn’t come as a surprise given his slender frame. Liu Qingge refuses to think further down that path and focuses on his current task.  

For some reason, Shen Qingqiu’s door is hard to open. It wasn’t that way before, but the moment that Liu Qingge’s hand touches it this time, hidden seals flare up. The characters of the likely hundreds of invisible talismans that lined the wall flare golden, and Liu Qingge stumbles back slightly, hand burning from the contact.  

His next attempts at entering the house are more fruitful, although they quickly prove futile when the door slams backward and knocks him outside when he is halfway through the doorway. Rubbing his forehead with great annoyance, Liu Qingge leans back, annoyed.  

Finally, the door caves in when Liu Qingge becomes fed up and kicks it as hard as he can, infusing Qi into the move as well. The Bai Zhan head disciple drops Shen Qingqiu down onto the closest chair he can find in the house, and then pauses, unsure if he should move him to somewhere more comfortable.  

He doesn't have enough time to truly reconsider, as when he takes another step forward, some sort of hidden mechanism activates, and Shen Qingqiu’s Qi surges forward. Not from the man himself, from another set of talismans that have activated beneath his feet. Liu Qingge is flung out of the house faster than he can blink.  

When he tried to re-enter from the empty space where the door had once been, and those god forsaken talismans once again activated, Liu Qingge decides to turn around and leave. Shen Qingqiu is surely safe enough; no Qing Jing disciple would be able to sneak in and do whatever they want to do with him.  

If he pushes past the offenders from earlier harshly while rushing back off Qing Jing, it is no one’s business but his own.  

-  

Bai Zhan has only recently begun replacing the usual torches and lamps with night pearls. In the cool night air, surrounded by dark shadows and the black sky dotted with thousands of stars, the cold light seems so different from the usual merrily crackling flames with their warm orange or yellow glow. It seems almost eerie, though Liu Qingge pays no attention to it. Despite his martial brother’s occasional shrieks from seeing someone that they know and mistaking them for a ghost or fierce corpse or whatever other creatures that are popular in those ghost stories that they enjoy reading, Liu Qingge is finding the night relaxing.  

He isn’t doing much, merely standing by and practicing while his juniors chopped away at the trees. Those shidis of his are in charge of gathering wood for whatever repairs are necessary, as An Ding had requested that Bai Zhan obtains whatever materials they needed for repairing on the peak, effectively withdrawing from the task of procuring them. Some An Ding disciples, after being confronted by Liu Qingge’s shidis, had explained with a great amount of stuttering that they were just taking up too much of the sect’s budget. That shibo of his from An Ding truly did have a spine of steel, though sadly his successor is the complete opposite.  

Even the most battle hungry shidis of his had by now already either retired for the night or gone about their other tasks, so Liu Qingge had the training fields to himself. As he watches, the remaining wood gatherers finish with their task and begin hauling the last logs toward the woodshed.  

Alone, Liu Qingge moves through his sword forms calmly, the cool breeze around him not having any effect on him with his high cultivation. He swings, steps to the side, weaves around an imaginary opponent, and then stabs.  

His training sword  –  as he wouldn’t use Cheng Luan merely for practice  –  pierces through a wooden dummy’s chest and emerges from the other side. He pulls it out and continues again.  

Swing.  

Step.  

Weave.  

Jump.  

Feint.  

Swing again.  

Step.  

Lunge upward.  

Swing.  

Step.  

Stop. A mistake like that could have cost him his life in battle, but his opponent disappears from his mind’s eye the moment his ears catch on to the light steps coming from behind him. Whirling around, Liu Qingge sees white robes and inky black hair, a beautiful silver-white blade clutched in pale hands.  

Cheng Luan had been sitting to the side, sheathed. Within a moment, it was in Liu Qingge’s hands and pointed at the Qing Jing head disciple’s throat.  

“What are you doing here?!” Liu Qingge demands, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword too tightly. He relaxes his hold slightly, keeping his guard up for Shen Qingqiu’s dirty tactics.  

It is the dead of night. All of his juniors have gone into the dormitories. It would be them that the punishment would fall to, as even if they weren’t suspected of murdering him, the blame would partially be on them for not coming to his aid. It was the perfect time to commit a crime.  

“Liu... Qingge,” is all that Shen Qingqiu says. He isn’t calm, that was for sure, his breath coming out in short gasps that sound almost pained. Panicking at being caught? It isn’t like Shen Qingqiu.  

Liu Qingge stiffens as he hears a faint dripping sound. Confused, he momentarily lets his guard down. He doesn't have time to regret it, as Shen Qingqiu immediately steps forward and grasps at his robes tightly.  

Cursing inwardly, he applies Qi to Cheng Luan, ready to bring it down on his opponent. However, he pauses. Shen Qingqiu hadn’t attacked him, merely stepped closer until they were almost nose to nose. From this angle, he seems a lot smaller than Liu Qingge. Almost subconsciously, he wraps his other arm around Shen Qingqiu’s waist, pinning him in place.  

Another thing; now that Cheng Luan is emitting a bright, silver light, Liu Qingge can see the source of the sound. Bloodstains are splattered all over Shen Qingqiu’s robes, which are draping onto his form almost indecently. Surely, he is only wearing two layers!  

Even as Liu Qingge flushes red, his eyes sweep across Shen Qingqiu’s form, noting that the blood seemed to come primarily from a wound, or perhaps multiple, low on his chest. There are some smaller cuts on his arms and legs as well.  

“Who did this?” Liu Qingge demands, blood pounding in his ears. Someone must have- must have snuck into Cang Qiong. A powerful demon? The sect wards would have most likely caught it, so it was either incredibly strong or had some other sort of ability. Most likely the former, as Shen Qingqiu wouldn’t have been easily overpowered. Liu Qingge can send a message to his shibo and shishu before he goes to take care of it.  

Or... it could have been one of Shen Qingqiu’s own martial siblings. Liu Qingge has seen the way that they watch him, eyes hawklike and vicious. If that is the case, it can easily be dealt with.  

Shen Qingqiu exhales loudly, the noise raspy. His breath isn’t coming as fluidly as it should. His slender hand closes around Liu Qingge’s robes, bunching up a fistful of fabric.  

“You... Liu Qingge,” he mutters. “Brute. Help me.”  

Liu Qingge blinks. “What?”  

“You’ve already been noticed by  him ,” Shen Qingqiu hisses. “I know you won’t be getting out of this unscathed like usual  –  it’s too late for that.”  

Liu Qingge repeats his previous statement, unable to think of anything else that would be useful. “What?”  

Awkwardly and stiffly, he brings a hand up to lightly pat Shen Qingqiu on the back. The man flinches violently away from the touch, pressing himself even further into Liu Qingge’s space. The Bai Zhan head disciple registers that it had been a bad idea, before Shen Qingqiu very deliberately presses himself closer.  

“Let’s go to Qian Cao,” Liu Qingge decides, hands hovering only slightly away from Shen Qingqiu’s thin form, unsure if he should touch.  

“No!” Shen Qingqiu’s sudden outburst is unexpected. His pupils have shrunk, and as Liu Qingge watches, a fine tremble shudders through his form. The Qing Jing head disciple, his rival, and who he has thought is his most hated person, wraps his arms just atop of Liu Qingge’s shoulders and around his neck, inching slowly even closer.  

The space between their mouths has gotten small enough to the point that Liu Qingge can feel Shen Qingqiu’s soft breaths tickling his own mouth. He knows that something is wrong, there is definitely something horribly different from the usual that is up with Shen Qingqiu. However, Liu Qingge’s thoughts seem so fleeting and small in the face of Shen Qingqiu’s brilliant eyes, and the little room left in between them. Like a weakly burning candle in the rain, they fizzle out until there is an emptiness left behind.  

His eyes widen just a slight bit too late as Shen Qingqiu’s lips meet his own, a light, featherlike touch that is gone the moment that it appears. A starburst of heat bursts in the center of Liu Qingge’s face, spreading to his ears and surely all throughout his body, not even a single vein or artery could possibly have been left untouched. Although he can't see himself, Liu Qingge can tell that his face has become that bright shade of scarlet that always appears on the rare occasion that he has gotten flustered.  

“Shen-”  

The air sparks around them, and Liu Qingge is brought back down to earth. That’s right- Shen Qingqiu can’t be in his right mind. The blood loss must have gotten to him, and as another thrum of Qi blasted through the air, Liu Qingge realizes that the man in front of him is Qi deviating.  

He reaches out his arms once more to catch him before he hits the ground.  

-  

Shen Jiu’s world is a hazy blur of black and red.  

He can smell charred flesh, burning wood, ash, a bonfire party made with human meat. The distant echo of collapsing buildings resounds even as he can’t see anything but faint blurs of grey and red, not to mention the black spots clouding his vision.  

He knows that he needs to focus. He’d stumbled over to Bai Zhan after his shizun had... given him his latest punishment. Why? Why did he think that coming to  Liu Qingge  of all people was a good idea? So what if he’d delivered him safely to his house, leaving him in the Warm Red Pavilion would have been better.  

“A’Jiu, do you like that Liu boy?” A small smirk and a hand that cupped his chin, tilting his face upward to look into his eyes.  

“I can be sure that he likes you.”  

The searing hot pain of the whip lashing against his skin, harsher and harder each time as the man behind it grew angrier. Blood staining his pristine robes and dripping all over the floor. Collapsing into a useless heap amidst a pool of shining crimson.  

Ah. That’s right.  

Liu Qingge... Shizun is going to kill him.  

Well, that isn’t right. Maybe he would, maybe he wouldn’t. It is so, so hard to tell with the Qing Jing Peak Lord, he’d smile at someone who has accidentally made a grave mistake that could cost a small lord his livelihood and then go rip a man apart piece by piece for seeing Shen Jiu emerge from the bathhouse. He is alike Wu Yanzi in the sense that Shen Jiu could only guess at what he wants, though unlike him in how he really did make him stronger. Even if the method chips away at him piece by piece.  

The brute from Bai Zhan really does have a way to ruin everything  –  Shen Jiu can count into the hundreds all the minor ways that his shizun had punished him because he had gotten too close to Liu Qingge, sparred with him too many times in a month, lost to him and gotten pinned to the ground, or just lost to him disgracefully.  

Yet here he has gotten himself, what would surely become the worst one of them all. Actually going up to Liu Qingge and kissing him. Shen Jiu can see the brute’s shocked face now, it is oddly funny to him in that moment, even as the dark spots pepper his vision and crowd beneath his eyelids.  

His wild, rampaging thoughts have calmed down slightly. It wasn’t a major Qi deviation, apparently. Shen Jiu can gather Qi from his surroundings to repair his singed meridians. The rush of natural spiritual energy serves to cool his mind even further.  

There is no time for regrets. Liu Qingge, hopefully, will protect someone that he deems ‘weakened’ and ‘in danger’. At least, with all his righteous preaching, he will probably follow through on what the Cang Qiong Mountain Sect is supposed to do.  

Shen Jiu casts those thoughts away. Placing his trust in Liu Qingge would hardly be a good idea, and believing in him of all people is even worse. What he can only hope to do is to scrape together enough goodwill to make him cooperate for just a little while.  

Deliriously, Shen Jiu grasps the sleeve of Liu Qingge’s outstretched arm. Despite his blurred vision and shaky hands, he manages to drag Liu Qingge forward, toward himself.  

“You damned brute,” he whispers harshly. “I never tried to kill you.”  

“Shen Qingqiu?”  

Liu Qingge looks really stupid.  

“You utter fool,” Shen Jiu says. “Can you not understand the human language? You’re a stupid brute who can’t tell the difference between when someone is trying to stab you in the back and when they’re trying to save you.”  

Liu Qingge’s expression flits through several phases, horror, shock, whatever it is Shen Jiu can barely see. “We’re going to Qian Cao,” the brute decides.  

Before Shen Jiu can argue, he  doesn’t want to be seen in such a disgraceful state, least of all by the ‘kindly’ healers of the medicine peak-  Liu Qingge is scooping him up and off the ground. The last of his sight disappears in a sickening whirl of grey that has him wanting to vomit.  

Instead, Shen Jiu’s mind fades into the stark blackness of unconsciousness.  

-  

Liu Qingge stands outside the door as his junior martial brothers stitch Shen Qingqiu up. Halfway through the procedure, Mu Qingfang is called. The Qian Cao head disciple arrives in a mess of ink-stained robes, not even acknowledging Liu Qingge’s presence as he rushes into the room.  

Frankly, Liu Qingge even being in the vicinity is unprofessional and if the healers were to obey the basic rules of Qian Cao, he should be kicked out. However, he has enough sense to not set foot within the room, so the healers that come out of or set foot near the operation room turn a blind eye.  

Finally, a tired looking Mu Qingfang emerges. Rubbing at his eyes, he doesn't even glance Liu Qingge’s way, sinking down onto a nearby chair with an exhausted sigh. Based on the dark circles decorating his face, he must have already pulled a few all nighters before he had been called over.  

“How is he?” Liu Qingge asks, causing the man to nearly leap through the ceiling.  

“Fuck-” curses Mu Qingfang. “What are you doing here, Liu-shixiong?!”  

Liu Qingge gestures in Shen Qingqiu’s general direction. Mu Qingfang waits for him to elaborate, and when he never does, the man simply sighs.  

“I can only be thankful that the Qi deviation wasn’t severe. Of course, his life isn’t in any danger, or I would have called shizun over. The problem was his meridians- they’ve already been mangled beyond recognition.”  

Liu Qingge frowns. Mu Qingfang continues, seeming to be looser lipped than usual after such a stressful procedure.  

“The physical wounds were hard to fix. I’m not sure if you’re aware, Liu-shixiong, but Qian Cao specializes in using Qi to speed up the recovery process by fusing the damaged tissue back together. This becomes exponentially more difficult when the patient’s meridians are in bad shape.”  

Liu Qingge nods, somewhat understanding what Mu Qingfang means. There is no doubt that he had dumbed down the process quite a bit for someone not from the medical peak, but since Qi traveled throughout the meridians, pushing it through Shen Qingqiu’s system to knit the broken flesh back together would have been much harder than usual.  

“Since we had to fix Shen-shixiong’s body first, we ended up using normal methods, which is why it took much longer than usual. This was unfortunately how I discovered that the majority of my shidi’s skills at mortal surgery are very rusty.”  

“...” Liu Qingge doesn’t say anything, though he wonders how bad it had gotten while they were operating.  

Well, Mu Qingfang has said that Shen Qingqiu’s life isn’t in any danger. Liu Qingge feels the tension lessen from his frame, shoulders relaxing a slight amount. It is probably time for him to leave, Shen Qingqiu probably wouldn’t want to see him right after his condition improved.  

Additionally, he now has to consider Shen Qingqiu’s words. Although he had seemed slightly delirious, he had admitted that he hadn’t meant to kill Liu Qingge after all. It could have been a lie, of course, but Liu Qingge isn’t sure about that. It had seemed all too real, along with the acid that Shen Qingqiu had spat alongside his words.  

Liu Qingge can feel his ears warming up as he recalls the brief kiss that the two of them had shared. Shen Qingqiu’s breath warming his skin- cold from practicing long into the night. The softness of his lips against his own-  

It isn’t right for Liu Qingge to think that of someone who likely wasn’t in his right mind at the moment.  

Mu Qingfang’s eyes are on him, seeming to be waiting expectantly. He has likely just asked him a question or is waiting for him to comment on something. Liu Qingge hasn’t heard him. After a brief pause, he marches off.  

He needs to get back to Bai Zhan and meditate on his thoughts. Liu Qingge wants to talk to Shen Qingqiu when he gets better as well, though he could give him space for now. The Qing Jing head disciple would be in a more fragile state in the days after his Qi deviation, so he shouldn’t come until he’d more or less recovered.  

In the meantime, Liu Qingge could hunt something for him. An animal that would help lessen the severity or probability of having a Qi deviation in the first place would be a good choice. Shen Qingqiu probably knew how to prepare them for himself anyways, so he wouldn’t have to go to too much trouble.  

-  

Every time that Liu Qingge dropped off a carcass on Shen Qingqiu’s doorstep, the man seemed to get progressively more annoyed. He even went so far as to tell Liu Qingge to stop bringing them at all, a warning that the Bai Zhan head disciple steadfastly ignored.  

On previous missions with Shen Qingqiu, he had shown how wide his knowledge of monsters was, reciting the names of their opponents with confidence and a hundred percent accuracy rate. Thus, Liu Qingge sincerely doubted that he was throwing away the entirety of the monsters that he brought him. At the very least, he must have taken the most useful parts, a theory that was confirmed one day when he saw the feather of the Fireworks Moonlight Hawk dangling from Shen Qingqiu’s fan in place of a tassel. A very explosive material when Qi was infused into it, it was useful in dangerous situations as an unexpected card.  

After Liu Qingge dropped off his first of many miracle herbs  –  the Thousand Years of Yearning Yellow Sunset, the Qing Jing Peak Lord himself cornered him on his next nighthunt.  

Liu Qingge is surrounded by a pack of Serpent Headed Wolves, though he has already taken out the Serpent Headed Wolflord, the leader. About ten already lay dead on the ground in ungraceful heaps, the blood staining the ground and seeping into the grass around them.  

Luckily, he had the idea to lure them out of their territory, where many villagers had disappeared into the forest. After provoking the leader and sprinting away, they were in a meadow full of tall grass that easily bent the way of the wind as they moved.  

Honestly, Liu Qingge could have killed the Wolflord and been done with it. All he is looking for is the gem in the middle of the serpent head, an incredibly Qi-dense material that can absorb even more spiritual energy from the surroundings than a cultivator. The demonic variety, which is the kind that Liu Qingge is currently hunting, are unable to tap into that Qi, so it would not be used up unless the gem broke. That is unlikely to happen, as the stone sits heavy and secure in Liu Qingge’s sleeve.  

A Serpent Headed Wolf lunges at him, teeth scraping against his sword in a blur of white and silver. As Liu Qingge moves to slice at the head, bright purple venom erupts from its throat. It sizzles when it drenches his clothes, but the quantity isn’t enough to damage his skin faster than he rips his outer robe off.  

The Serpent Headed Wolflord’s gemstone clatters to the ground at his feet. Liu Qingge curses as he is forced to step back when the rest of the pack encircles him, or rather tries to, as there aren’t enough members left to fully surround him. There is an opening behind him, so he quickly steps away.  

Evidently, one of the wolves grows impatient, as it lunges at him. Liu Qingge ducks close to the ground, the grass softly brushing at his face and hair as he moves. Behind himself, he feels the motion in the wind before it connects and dodges, before striking hard at the wolf that had tried to sneak up behind him. It dies on the spot, an agonized howl emerging from its throat.  

That sound seems to energize its brethren, who charge at Liu Qingge with renewed force. Demonic energy crackles through the air as another wolf swipes at him with long, serrated claws.  

Liu Qingge stabs Cheng Luan through the heart of that wolf, and then spins around, a second too late to dodge getting grazed by another one. He cleaves its head off a moment later.  

As he faces the rest of the pack, Liu Qingge is momentarily distracted when he sensed an enormous force coming right for him too fast for him to react in his current state. The wolves notice as well, thankfully, otherwise that split second of inattention would have cost him.  

Liu Qingge’s opponents are crushed to a pulp within seconds. Liu Qingge sees as the Qing Jing Peak Lord descends from the sky moments later, calling his sword back to himself. He sheathes it with a decisive movement, before scanning Liu Qingge from head to toe.  

“Liu-shizhi,” he nods, eyes briefly moving to his injuries before assessing the battleground. As he walks closer, the heel of his boot meets the Serpent Headed Wolflord’s gem, crushing it before his next step. “I’m surprised to see you here.”  

Liu Qingge’s eyes linger on the shattered dust of the item he has hunted down for Shen Qingqiu. It had taken weeks to track the traces of the pack, with how reclusive they were, only preying on the travelers that ventured into the woods, which would often be attributed to simple bad luck. Suffice it to say, it had taken a long time and twice that amount of effort.  

Liu Qingge lets out a noncommittal sound, wondering what the Qing Jing Peak Lord is trying to say.  

Thankfully, his shibo seems to take mercy on him, or perhaps just became bored, as he states his intentions the moment after. “I’m sure that you’re waiting for me to spell it out for you. I suppose I’ll make it quick.”  

Liu Qingge drops into a battle stance almost instinctively and is surprised himself at the movement. He shifts back to his normal standing posture. The Qing Jing Peak Lord doesn’t comment on it.  

“This master would like to...  request  that Liu-shizhi keep his distance from my disciple.”  

Liu Qingge frowns. “Why?”  

“I’m sure you know how infamous you and Qingqiu’s rivalry is,” the Qing Jing Peak Lord says, almost lazily striding toward him. “Thus, it is easy to understand why I wouldn’t appreciate you loitering around him, is it not?”  

“I’m not-”  

“Really now? Then why can it be said that three out of the four times that you are in the sect nowadays, the Bai Zhan head disciple can be found on Qing Jing Peak? Your own shidimen have grown disgruntled by this fact.”  

Liu Qingge looks down toward the ground, clenching his fist at his side. Truth be told, he doesn't spend more time in Qing Jing than in Bai Zhan, but he does show up more to drop off his newest catch on Shen Qingqiu’s doorstep before leaving. If his own shidi and shimei were beginning to dislike the fact, then it could end up causing trouble for Shen Qingqiu in the future. Still...  

“This one will make sure to educate his junior martial siblings should any problems occur,” Liu Qingge pauses. “As well as beforehand, to prevent such things from happening in the first place. If that is all, then this shizhi will be excused.”  

Liu Qingge leaps onto Cheng Luan before his shibo could speak again. He is off in a blur of silver, the wind whipping through his hair and robes as he contemplates on what the Qing Jing Peak Lord had told him.  

Indeed, it would be best not to let a soul in Bai Zhan rest until he has drilled into their heads that Shen Qingqiu isn’t to be messed with. For the man’s reputation, of course, as well as the peak in general. Who knows what sneaky tactics he could pull in order to come out on top.  

-  

It is a warm spring day in the next year when it all falls apart.  

Everything is going smoothly, far too smoothly, to be honest. Liu Qingge seems to have forgotten about that whipping he had seen the aftermath of. Shen Jiu had never shown him any disgrace since, not counting  that incident,  cautious to the point of paranoia. He’d taken great measures to convince Liu Qingge that it had been a one time occurrence.  

The first time that Liu Qingge stayed after he’d dropped off his latest monster, he’d asked him who had injured him. Shen Jiu knew his shizun had already picked a disciple to pass the blame onto, a wide-eyed junior who had been staying after the usual lessons to be tutored by Shen Jiu. Shizun had presented the decapitated head like a trophy to Shen Jiu, and Shen Jiu had kept his hands in his lap, arms trembling and eyes firmly downcast.  

The lie had come far too easily up his throat and out his lips, like second nature. The death of that little shidi had lingered in his mind for the following year and probably would haunt him for the rest of his life, just like the rest of the ghosts that Shen Jiu carries. Sometimes, he was surprised that Liu Qingge was still alive. The brute was probably saved by virtue of being the head disciple of Bai Zhan, the Liu family’s son, and the fact that he rarely actually spoke to Shen Jiu. Good, honestly, especially as they had never discussed what Shen Jiu had done while Qi deviating.  

Once he had ended up on Qian Cao after his Qi deviation had occurred, Mu Qingfang had informed him that Liu Qingge had stomped off before he had been able to get a definite answer from him about what had caused his pre-deviation wounds. Shen Jiu had given him a blatant lie of an answer and then stayed silent until he was allowed to leave the healing peak.  

Thankfully, the only spies that his shizun had on Bai Zhan were in no position to watch him every moment of the day, so that single kiss that he and Liu Qingge shared in the dead of night hadn’t been seen. In all honesty, it was worth it. Liu Qingge’s usual antagonism basically disappeared overnight, and though neither of them have brought it up since, it was apparent that he wasn’t planning on forgetting it anytime soon. His confession to saving his shidi’s life on that mission years ago had probably helped a great deal as well.  

It still feels weird, the fact that he has disobeyed his shizun, though not an explicit order, he knows that the man doesn't want him near another, and got away with it. It isn't as if anything has changed, and Shen Jiu doesn't even know what to make of it himself, but he does know that he certainly doesn’t want Liu Qingge dead. Despite the brainlessness his shidi has shown on multiple occasions, he could be an incredibly useful ally. That is what Shen Jiu does, after all, improve his situation bit by agonizing bit just so he can keep surviving.  

It is with those thoughts in mind that he gets up each morning, choking down the screams that threatened to rise up from deep inside his chest with each horrible dream that clouded his sleep. The morning of this one particular day is no different, as Shen Jiu wakes to cold sweat, aching bones, and the irritating chirp of the few birds that lived on the mountain.  

Pushing aside the covers, the Qing Jing head disciple is met with aching hips and sore legs. He ignores it, as always, and stands upright, only stumbling a little. Shen Jiu leaves his shizun’s bed and enters the main room of the house. Not for the first time, he tells himself that the moment he becomes the Qing Jing Peak Lord, he would demolish his predecessor’s house and build another one somewhere further away. Likely out of bamboo, a very accessible material on Qing Jing Peak.  

“Good morning, Qingqiu.” Shen Jiu is snapped out of his thoughts as his shizun walks up behind him and lays a hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t flinch away, his time at the Qiu manor has washed away that reaction so he hadn’t been punished for it with Wu Yanzi or his shizun. He isn’t sure if either of those two would have taken offense with it, perhaps they would have been amused instead. Shen Jiu isn’t going to risk it, either way.  

“Good morning, shizun.” Shen Jiu bows to his shizun and doesn’t quite manage to hide the wince at the strain it puts on his exhausted muscles. The show of weakness feels like a loss, but his shizun seems pleased. The Qing Jing Peak Lord is in a good mood today, then.  

“Does Qingqiu have any classes to teach today?” Shen Jiu has long since stopped learning at Qing Jing Peak and began instructing alongside the hallmasters. That is, when the actual teachers are unable to teach or in seclusion. He will take over his shizun’s classes once he ascends. Otherwise, he is just given paperwork or other kinds of homework and told to solve it. The current Qing Jing Peak Lord had made his schedule and told him whenever there were changes. He knows the answer to the question he has asked.  

“No, Hallmaster Sun has just come out of seclusion and Hallmaster Fu has recovered from the... firework rocket prank that Ru-shidi pulled a week ago.”  

His shizun nods, taking a seat at his desk. He takes a stack of papers out and hands it to Shen Jiu, who knows by now that it is his work for the day. Since he doesn't have any plans, he is going to just meditate in the bamboo forest to advance his cultivation once he is finished. He has heard that Qi Qingqi had made a breakthrough, launching her up the ranks of the current strongest head disciples, pushing him down into the bottom half. He will have to work harder to climb the strength scaling chart he has in his mind.  

It is still early enough in the morning that the sun has not yet risen above the horizon, so Shen Jiu can make his way back to the head disciple’s quarters without having to dodge the hallmasters or his fellow disciples to avoid being spotted coming from his shizun’s house. That happened a few times in the early days, leaving Shen Jiu pressed behind walls or columns waiting for the people he had seen to leave. He gave on asking for help almost immediately after their strange relationship had begun, knowing with a resigned sort of detachment that it would only lead to his disgrace.  

Shen Jiu, back at his residency after a short break to the Quiet Pool, where he’d scrubbed his skin raw, quickly loses himself in his work. Time doesn't pass fluidly, but as he fills out line after line of proposals, drafts, and improvement details that his shizun will look over later, he can feel the tightly wound ball of dread inside him uncurl just slightly.  

There are only a few papers left on his table when he hears a knock on his door. Shen Jiu pauses, considering waiting and pretending that he isn't there until the person leaves. Instead, he wipes his brush free of ink and sets it down on a piece of fabric there entirely for that purpose. He checks the mirror to make sure that he looks presentable, snatches the fan with the hawk feather material from his side table on the way over, and then walks to the door.  

When he opens it, he is met with Liu Qingge’s stupidly pretty face. Alongside the brute, there is an enormous object. Looking up, it turns out that he had been looking at the trunk of a tree, the rest of which is unable to be seen just from the doorway.  

The night air is cold and refreshing against his face, the light from inside spilling out to carry just the right amount of warmth with him. If it were someone other than stupid, honorable Liu Qingge, Shen Jiu might have worried about their intentions this late at night.  

“Liu-shidi,” Shen Jiu says, turning his gaze away from the enormous plant. “Why have you brought me a tree?”  

Liu Qingge is standing on one of the tree’s roots, as apparently, he had just pulled it straight from the ground and gone to deliver it to Shen Jiu. He lifts it up and steps a little farther away before setting it down in the grass beside Shen Jiu’s house. “It’s the Flowering Mirac-”  

Liu Qingge shut his mouth at the snap of Shen Jiu’s fan. “Liu-shidi, fly over to Qian Cao and give the tree to them. This one is perfectly aware of what the tree does, and Qian Cao would love to keep and cultivate with one of the last ones in existence.”  

Liu Qingge frowns. “Qian Cao already has a lot of miracle herbs.”  

“That doesn’t mean they couldn’t use more.”  

“I-”  

“Let me rephrase.” Shen Jiu taps at Liu Qingge’s chin with the fan, bright, red-feathered tassel swinging from below it. He would have used it to make him look up if he were taller, but alas that is not the case. “This shixiong does not need a miracle herb tree, nor does he have the space for it.”  

Liu Qingge glances at the empty space outside Shen Jiu’s house, and Shen Jiu sighs.  

“Most miracle herbs need very specific environments to survive in and grow, Liu-shidi.”  

“Fine. I’ll take it away when I leave.” Liu Qingge steps forward and past Shen Jiu, and while he was startled, enters his house.  

“Wha- brute, what are you doing?” Shen Jiu gives up when Liu Qingge moves, clearly about to seat himself down at his table. “Don’t break anything!”  

Liu Qingge scoffs, but his expression changes when he promptly sweeps Shen Jiu’s tea set off of the nearby counter top with a careless wave of his arm as he sunk into a kneeling position at the low table. Shen Jiu turns around immediately, finding himself met with a guilty Liu Qingge and a mess of broken porcelain.  

“If Liu-shidi had not wanted tea,” Shen Jiu says slowly. “He could have just said so.”  

“That’s not..!” Liu Qingge flushes bright red, changing his posture so that he is sitting ramrod straight, barely moving except to breathe.  

Shen Jiu rolls his eyes, moving to the row of cabinets above the counter that Liu Qingge had knocked the tea pot and cups from. There is an extra set in one of them, one that he hasn’t used in a while. His cabinets are sealed shut tightly enough so that no dust would collect, however. It wasn’t often that he replaced his tableware, given that it wasn’t often that he had guests over, let alone ones who broke his tea sets.  

Shen Jiu pauses suddenly, hand half closed around the handle of a teacup with delicately painted plants creeping up the edges. He slams the cabinet door shut, startling Liu Qingge.  

“What?” snaps the Bai Zhan head disciple, half up out of his seat and looking ready to fight. Must be a learned reflex, most likely from getting jumped by his fellow disciples so often.  

“Hide,” Shen Jiu says, grabbing hold of Liu Qingge’s collar and hauling him completely to his feet before his shidi could even process his words. Tugging him to his bedroom against his will would have been harder, if not for Liu Qingge’s surprise. It made him less like a wall of bricks and more like those same bricks but in a bag. It isn’t a particularly poetic comparison, but some things just couldn’t be stated that well. Not when they regarded Liu Qingge.  

Liu Qingge looks even more confused when Shen Jiu shoves him into his closet. While he disdains the idea of the brute rubbing himself all over his robes, it would have to do. What is more unfortunate is the fact that Liu Qingge would be able to hear him and his ‘guest’ from where he was, as a perk of enhanced cultivator hearing.  

Shen Jiu is barely out of his bedroom when the door opens, and the Qing Jing Peak Lord walks in.  

“Qingqiu greets shizun,” Shen Jiu says, cupping his hands as he bows.  

His shizun gives a casual wave of his hand. “No need for formalities. How has Qingqiu’s day been?”  

Shen Jiu’s hand makes an aborted motion as he almost reached for his fan, but decides against it right after. “This one has been well. The paperwork that shizun has assigned hasn’t been completed yet, but there should only be a few more pages left.”  

“That isn’t why this master has come here,” assures his shizun. Or perhaps it was meant to be an assurance, but instead Shen Jiu’s gut twists as he clenches his fists hidden beneath his sleeves. He smooths his face over and nods, motioning for his shizun to sit at his table.  

Except, Shen Jiu hasn’t had enough time to clean up after Liu Qingge, and the shattered remains of his old tea set are still on the floor, visible from where they are standing. The Qing Jing Peak Lord raises an eyebrow coolly, glancing down at Shen Jiu.  

“Has Qingqiu had guests over?”  

Inwardly, Shen Jiu curses at having not been able to get Liu Qingge to leave- and take that enormous tree with him- before his shizun had arrived. “One,” he admits. “However, he has already left.” Casting a disdainful glance at the broken porcelain, he hopes that his shizun will accept that explanation and his clear disapproval as enough to let him off the hook.  

“I see.” As always, reading the Qing Jing Peak Lord proves to be fruitless. Shen Jiu keeps his gaze set on the floor, though he isn’t startled when his shizun grasps his chin with cold fingers and tilts his face up. Shen Jiu looks up into his shizun’s face and can’t quite suppress the shudder that runs through his body.  

“It must have been that Liu  beast ,” the Qing Jing Peak Lord contemplates absentmindedly. “Does he truly wish to court death?”  

Shen Jiu isn’t sure whether the right option would be to agree with him or change the topic. If he wanted to get Liu Qingge firmly on his side, then it wouldn’t be wise to antagonize him. At least, not to such a level that his shizun is doing currently, as Liu Qingge is used to at least a little bit of frustration when dealing with him. He hadn’t thought like this before, most of the time it was simple; just try and decrease the amount of punishments that his owners were to give him.  

Regardless, Shen Jiu has probably paused for too long by now. Evidenced by the sudden flash that slides through his shizun’s eyes, Shen Jiu isn’t going to enjoy what comes next. Although he tries to keep his thoughts short and composed, that hardly stops the feeling of the floor tilting beneath him and his resolve crumbling to dust.  

His shizun’s cold, cold fingers wrap around his wrist, leaving behind a chill and the mark of a shackle etched permanently into his mind. Shen Jiu feels himself being tugged forward, and then he is flush with his shizun’s chest. He looks upward, meeting the Qing Jing Peak Lord’s gaze head on. Shen Jiu is fairly certain that he enjoys having him watch as he strips Shen Jiu of each layer that he wears to cover himself up.  

As usual for Shen Jiu, out of sight is not out of mind. Although he can’t sense a thing from Liu Qingge, who has likely concealed his Qi with a simple spiritual manipulation trick, he is acutely aware of his presence. No doubt, he is also heightening his senses until he can hear every noise, every step on the floor, every breath that Shen Jiu would take. Nosy brute.  

“Is Qingqiu distracted?” hums his shizun, his fingers sliding over Shen Jiu’s hips to rest above his ass. Already, three layers of his robes had fallen onto the floor. Once his shizun unwound the ties to his second to last layer of inner robes, he heard the soft thud of fabric hitting the ground. The last and final layer comes off with more impatience, with his shizun simply sliding it off of his body.  

A horrible dark cloud curls through Shen Jiu’s body as his shizun lifts him up and carries him, walking further into the house. Toward his bedroom.  

Very carefully, Shen Jiu doesn't look at his closet, keeping his eyes on his shizun. It seems that today, his master was going to be kind. He can recall that first, terrible year when he hadn’t believed a word of the Qing Jing Peak Lord’s facade and yet had still been quietly disappointed as his suspicions had proved true. Maybe he should have told the truth back then, of his shizun’s rough handling and amusement at his pain, the number of times he had quietly whimpered “no” into the night. The thing is, no one would have believed him then, with a small exception being Yue Qingyuan, and for sure there is no one who would believe him now.  

It is hard to tell when exactly things started heading south in the past, now. Back when he had first taken the Qing Jing Peak Lord’s hand? Back when he had buried his sword into Wu Yanzi’s back? Back when he had stared at the flickering flames around him and turned for the exit?  

Well, Shen Jiu feels a dreadful sense of mirth as he thinks that Liu Qingge will know that he was right, all those years ago during that tournament when he had first fought Disciple Shen and instantly pegged him as a filthy cheater. He’s never been able to wash himself free of the grime of his past. He never will, now.  

Shen Jiu shouldn’t have hidden him. He should have let his shizun kill him, and then he would be safe on his high, lonely peak. He doesn’t know why his mouth refuses to move, why his eyes turn toward the closet, why he cannot even bear to stare for too long.  

As his shizun presses him onto his bed, Shen Jiu can only wish with all that remained of his small, blackened heart that Liu Qingge won’t turn what he has seen into a giant incident that would destroy both him, and the entire reputation of Qing Jing Peak for at least a century to come. Since yes, he is going to survive this, because Shen Jiu is weak and won’t give him away.  

Stupid, brash Liu Qingge, who now knows Shen Jiu’s current biggest secret. That he is, as the brute as always known, an unworthy successor. That he had, in the end, only made it through with his body.  

He’s going to be removed from his position. Shen Jiu is never going to get to enjoy the fruits of his labor, will never sit atop that lofty mountain free of a tall figure hovering at his shoulder. He’s going to be kicked out of the sect, dragged back into the gutter, found out for what he truly is.  

Liu Qingge knows. He knows.  

No, no, no, no, no...  

-  

The thing is, Liu Qingge isn't stupid.  

Many people, Shen Qingqiu among them, have called him so. Yes, he can be dull at times. Yes, he isn’t the sharpest brush in the box. He is certainly the sharpest sword among Cang Qiong’s juniors, though Yue Qingyuan would be able to beat him in that aspect if he tried.  

Liu Qingge can admit to himself that he is ignorant on no small number of matters, and rarely did he truly try to learn new things besides more advanced sword techniques. He knows them as mere concepts, instead of actual things that he has to look out for daily in his occupation as a cultivator. It is just how he has always been, and it has served him just fine to remain that way- until now, that is. He’s never seen any hint of the things creeping below the surface, or rather, he had stared at them head-on and had simply been blind to the truth.  

Now, listening to the voices and miniscule sounds echoing in the small room, Liu Qingge feels an aching regret coil through his skin. Really, this put a few of Shen Qingqiu’s actions into a different light, didn’t it? Liu Qingge, somewhat hysterically, thinks of the apologies that he owed the prostitutes- the women who worked at the brothel.  

Nevertheless, Liu Qingge isn't  that  clueless. Reasoning with himself to believe something other than what he has already realized wasn't something that he has ever done. He may be able to overlook most things purely by accident, but when confronted with such a thing right to his face, how can he possibly not want to act?  

Through the small crack in between the two closet doors, Liu Qingge meets Shen Qingqiu’s gaze. His shizun was turned in the opposite direction, though it doesn’t seem like he has gone straight into it yet. His clothes were still on, at least. Liu Qingge still has time.  

Time to... what? Rescue Shen Qingqiu? It is clearly too late; the first time may have been yesterday or years ago. Liu Qingge has utterly failed, for the first time in his life.  

“You’ve already been noticed by him.”  That was what Shen Qingqiu had uttered mid Qi-deviation. What did that mean? It is too late for Liu Qingge to come out unscathed, he can only assume that those words applied to this situation.  

Maybe Shen Qingqiu is counting on him staying out of it. Why else would he have hidden him away? Liu Qingge knows that it is no use scouring for a reason why Shen Qingqiu did what he did. He simply has to act now and question him later. Besides, Liu Qingge knew right then and there that if he didn't act, he’d regret it for the rest of his life.  

Luckily, Shen Qingqiu hasn’t sealed him in with any talismans or arrays. Though Liu Qingge thinks it was more about him not having the time to do so rather than not wanting to. He lingers on those thoughts no longer, slamming on the door with as much force as he can muster.  

The expensive looking wooden doors give near instantly, splintering apart and breaking beneath his heavy blow. Liu Qingge hadn’t set down Cheng Luan earlier when he had sat himself down at Shen Qingqiu’s table, so the sword is still hanging at his hip. He draws it and then launches himself at the Qing Jing Peak Lord.  

For a disgusting lecher, the Qing Jing Peak Lord is remarkably elegant. (Liu Qingge doesn’t even know when he stopped thinking the same of Shen Qingqiu, but it’s been a long time since then.) The moment that the closet doors broke down, he was on his feet with his own sword in hand. Shen Qingqiu was shoved down, as if to protect him from the oncoming fight. Or keep him out of it.  

From behind a wall, the scene in front of him had been bearable. He had known what was happening and had been furious. Now, from up close, he can see the bitemarks and bruises adorning Shen Qingqiu’s neck like some twisted brand. He can see the way that Shen Qingqiu scrambles to pull the singular loose white garment in front of him over himself to cover up his body. Liu Qingge feel a wave of devastation and a new blaze of fury as they collide within him.  

“Ah, it’s you, Liu-shizhi.” The Qing Jing Peak Lord seems calm and at ease, though that demeanor contrasted greatly with his sharp movements as he evades the deadly swipes of Liu Qingge’s blade. “Are you sure about this? This could be considered treason, if you aren’t aware.”  

Liu Qingge grits his teeth, swearing to himself that no matter what the bastard said, he wouldn’t listen. Wouldn’t let it get to him, if it meant avenging Shen Qingqiu.  

The Qing Jing Peak Lord smirks with sadistic glee. “You’re not making it out alive, Liu-shizhi.” He states it like he is simply speaking of the weather in the morning or the order he wants from An Ding. The certainty would have thrown a lesser man off. Liu Qingge pulls Cheng Luan out from where it’s been embedded in the wall and moves to strike again.  

This time, the peak lord meets Liu Qingge’s blow head on. It is to the Bai Zhan head disciple’s delight that his opponent cannot brush him off easily, that he has to carefully measure out the exact amount of force that he should use to repel Liu Qingge. He’s conserving energy, then. To be able to prioritize such things, the peak lord is obviously stronger than Liu Qingge. Of course, as Cang Qiong’s strongest couldn’t possibly be weaklings.  

His shibo’s blade flies past his head, not thrown but flown using a clever application of Qi. Liu Qingge was able to dodge narrowly, but a small length of hair fluttered down to the ground. A piece of hair falls in front of his face, no longer able to be held up by his ponytail with its now diminished length. Liu Qingge wonders if his opponent is trying to obscure his vision.  

It doesn't seem like it, so Liu Qingge brushes off the ridiculous thought. Qing Jing Peak’s style of swordplay is swift and moderate, preferring to stack up wounds slowly. Part of it was mental warfare, Liu Qingge knows from fighting Shen Qingqiu and some other green-clad disciples when he had been much younger. Unfortunately, he has never met the peak lord in battle before; it isn’t exactly polite to demand spars from your seniors. Liu Qingge regrets not barging onto the peak now, as the peak lord’s style is clearly leagues apart from his students.  

Shen Qingqiu is still sitting there on the bed behind his shizun and Liu Qingge as they spin around each other and strike. The roof is beginning to cave in, the walls shaking with every powerful blow that Liu Qingge launches. The Qing Jing Peak Lord hasn’t been hit once, nor has Liu Qingge.  

That ought to be changed soon, as the beginning stages of the battle end and Liu Qingge throws himself into the fray once more, slashing with renewed effort. He doesn't normally scope out his enemies’ tactics and styles, but he knows that he’d have to for this one fight. There had to be more than rage fueling his strikes here.  

The only members of the previous generation that Liu Qingge had sparred with had been his shizun and an assortment of hallmasters across many of the peaks. He draws on knowledge of his shizun here, dodging an average looking strike from his shibo’s sword, arcing with just a few more sparks than normal. He winces as a thin cut slices up his leg, and the entire back wall splits apart behind him. Some trees had been destroyed as well, he notes as he darts out the hole in the wall. A silent gesture to bring the fight to a more open area. His opponent complies, stepping out and blocking a solid blow with his sword, glowing with spiritual energy.  

“This master has a few ideas of what he should do after this farce ends,” the Qing Jing Peak Lord shares. His hair flies out behind him as he presses downward with his blade, expression still serene as ever. Liu Qingge’s knees bend in his valiant effort to remain standing. He quickly changes positions, forcing Cheng Luan up. As his shibo’s sword returns to his side, Liu Qingge strikes.  

It is a shallow wound, one that won’t help him much in the long run. Clearly on his non-dominant arm, and not in a vital enough place to prevent him from doing anything. Still, it is the first blood that Liu Qingge has drawn. The certainty that his opponent can bleed is invigorating.  

Undeterred, the Qing Jing Peak Lord continues. “I could let my peers know that Liu Qingge, head disciple of Bai Zhan Peak, has committed a grave sin against my disciple and that I had found him inside his home. My shidimei and shixiong will put together what happened in their own minds, and conclude that you deserve to be expelled from the sect.”  

Liu Qingge bares his teeth in a wordless snarl, jumping away only to launch himself forward again. His sword glare remains bright and strong as the spiritual steel of the two swords screech against each other, a discordant tune that intensifies as Liu Qingge finds himself being pressed back.  

“I know that my shimei from Bai Zhan will be relieved, and then guilty about it.” Liu Qingge’s shibo tips his head back with a slow laugh, all kinds of talismans crawling from his sleeves and unfurling themselves in midair. Before Liu Qingge could back away, he was encircled by them. His limbs were locked down to the ground with thin, glowing chains. The light from the material lit up the night, but their sword glares accomplished that as well. He struggles, fury building as the Qing Jing Peak Lord continues talking, clearly not taking their fight seriously.  

“She’ll think to herself, ‘oh, don’t I have a good excuse now, for why I hated him so much?’ She’ll think that she always knew that her daughter's death wasn’t an accident, and she’ll thank me for ending the life of a filthy sinner.”  

“Shizun isn’t like that!” Fighting to escape the chains, Liu Qingge snaps the two binding his legs and then the one for his right arm. He picks up Cheng Luan again to sever the final chain, and then he is back up. The Qing Jing Peak Lord spins around to avoid a heavy hit. Liu Qingge can feel himself growing unfocused, but his swings remain sharp and unyielding.  

“Is she now?” His shibo’s sword flies out of his hand and grazes him before he can dodge, and Liu Qingge quickly rips off the talisman that it had stuck to him as it brushed past. The paper turns red-hot and then explodes in his hand. There’s a small amount of blood that Liu Qingge writes off as a minor injury.  

More of the talismans, all painted with the same character for  fire,  fly back and forth around him, controlled by the caster’s Qi. Liu Qingge weaves around them and runs for his target, clutching onto Cheng Luan with all of his might as he swings downwards with as much strength as he can muster.  

Liu Qingge lands, and the Qing Jing Peak Lord’s sword strikes his chest. A deep blow, a little too close to a few vital organs for comfort. It lodges itself into the left side of his lower stomach and then is drawn back out for a second stab. Liu Qingge braces himself, swinging his sword to at least deal some damage to his enemy in exchange for one more wound.  

A massive explosion rocks the courtyard; bright and booming, too brilliant to look at properly. Liu Qingge is blown back, feeling as his back painfully meet hard, spiritual Qi infused bamboo and snaps a few shoots. For a moment, Liu Qingge thinks that the Qing Jing Peak Lord had snuck a talisman onto him and evaded his detection somehow, but he realizes that a major part of the blast was where his opponent had been standing. The second realization comes when he feels Shen Qingqiu’s Qi mere steps from where he is.  

Liu Qingge hadn’t been sure if Shen Qingqiu would fight with him, to be honest. He had been prepared to fight for his honor, to dedicate his victory, if he won, to Shen Qingqiu. He wasn’t sure what Shen Qingqiu would do, but he is glad to see that he had chosen to intervene. Somewhat guilty as well; he’d forced him into the fray with his weakness when he was the victim in this entire cruel situation.  

It had to be that tassel that he had given Shen Qingqiu, the secret weapon that would explode when Qi was passed into it. Though he had never seen the Fireworks Moonlight Hawk feather’s explosive ability, until now, that was, it was clearly nothing to scoff at. Some bits of the ground have been blown away until there was a small crater in the grass.  

He never expected that Shen Qingqiu would use the feather so soon after it had been gifted.  

The smoke begins to clear away, and Liu Qingge steps cautiously toward the source, worried about the state of Shen Qingqiu’s body. He had clearly gone to great efforts to conceal his presence from both him and his shizun, which admittedly would have been easier than usual considering they were locked in the throes of furious battle. It is still impressive that he had managed to completely evade the Qing Jing Peak Lord’s notice, however, with how fixated the man is on his disciple.  

Speaking of the man, the Qing Jing Peak Lord is crumpled down on the ground, clutching at his bloody right side. Shen Qingqiu must have lit the explosive nearly right on top of him, with how much damage he had taken from it. Liu Qingge also sees the cut that he had so painstakingly made with Cheng Luan, a wound on the right of his chest that drips with vivid red, charred at the edges. Had Shen Qingqiu slipped the talisman  into  his shizun’s injury? The problem is, even all of that isn’t nearly enough to take him out of commission.  

Liu Qingge finds himself wishing that the cut he had made earlier had been just a bit deeper as the Qing Jing Peak Lord lifts his sword with his left hand. He staggers slightly, caught off balance by his practically useless right arm. That gives Shen Qingqiu enough time to sprint over to Liu Qingge’s side.  

The Qing Jing head disciple, before joining the fight and promptly ending it, had tossed his outer robe over his singular underrobe. His hair flows messily down his back and his clothes have been burnt slightly. There were bits of grass clinging to the fabric as well- the explosion must have knocked him to the ground. It brought Liu Qingge back to the day when he had shown up at Bai Zhan in the middle of the night.  

Liu Qingge’s expression darkens as he watches the Qing Jing Peak Lord slowly straighten up. His knuckles are white on the hilt of Cheng Luan as he slowly, cautiously advances forward.  

“Stop!” Shen Qingqiu hisses, grabbing onto his shoulder firmly enough to halt him in his tracks. Liu Qingge watches as a part of the fabric of his sleeve was burnt from the intensity of the Qi that he had put into stopping him.  

“What?” Liu Qingge isn’t good with words, but he knows damn well that he is going to have to find a way to express his outrage here. “He has to die here.” There is no way that Shen Qingqiu is going to have his shizun spared, not out of some misguided sense of sentimentality or something of the like. No, his shibo deserves to die.  

Liu Qingge’s arm trembles; muscles tense. His face is pale, he feels bloodless and oddly disconnected from the entire situation.  

“Do you think I’m  weak? ” Shen Qingqiu hisses, matching his anger with rage of his own. “It can’t possibly be you saying this. When have you ever killed a man, Liu Qingge? With your own two hands, have you ever taken a life?”  

Liu Qingge blinks, caught off guard by the sudden question. He hadn’t- that was true. He’d seen people- humans die, but he’d never be the one to drive in that final blow. Now, though, he can manage it. He can.  

“Do you know how much trouble we’d be in, if word got out that the Qing Jing Peak Lord was found dead near my conveniently destroyed quarters? What then, all the righteousness in the world won’t save us from condemnation.  Follow me. ” Without another word, Shen Qingqiu spins on his heel and sprints out of the area. Qinggong, that was the only way that he could move so fast. Liu Qingge follows a second too late, a moment lost to realizing that Shen Qingqiu was right.  

“Fuck,” Shen Qingqiu spits. Liu Qingge blinks, wondering if he was hallucinating the usually upright and somewhat prude of a man. He wipes the thought out of his mind, focusing on keeping pace with Shen Qingqiu. He can feel a dull ringing in his ears, vision somewhat blurring at the edges. The ground beneath his feet seems to move instead of his legs.  

“How far away is the Liu estate?” Shen Qingqiu asks.  

It took Liu Qingge a moment to realize that he had been asked a question. Another beat later, he replies. “Two days by swordflight.” After a small pause, he adds: “Including breaks for replenishing Qi.”  

Shen Qingqiu remains silent for a while after that. Liu Qingge doesn't ask where they are heading, content to simply follow along with his movements. However, he can feel himself flagging, having to push just a little harder in order to continue. His lower stomach was sending starbursts of pain into his system with every movement that he makes, and almost subconsciously he brings a hand to his chest to press down on the still-bleeding wound.  

Liu Qingge startles when Shen Qingqiu reaches out a hand, taking his own into his grasp. It is oddly warm, Shen Qingqiu’s fingers intertwined with his. He is pulled along surprisingly gently, movements made to guide rather than to force.  

“We’re going to Qiong Ding,” Shen Qingqiu announces, not unlike a general giving grim news to a common soldier.  

Liu Qingge blinks. “To... inform Zhangmen-shibo?”  

When had the rainbow bridge appeared beneath their feet? Liu Qingge can’t remember, too caught up in the wind rushing past his face as they run and the lightheaded dizziness that can probably be attributed to blood loss.  

Shen Qingqiu stops abruptly. Liu Qingge copies him, looking up to find that they had already arrived at the foot of Qiong Ding. It makes sense- Qing Jing, as the second-ranked peak, is just under Qiong Ding in the hierarchy, and was therefore built closest to the first peak among the rest. Liu Qingge is unsure why it took so long for this information to come to his mind, thoughts running too sluggishly as he and Shen Qingqiu’s steps slow to a leisurely walk.  

“No, stupid,” comes Shen Qingqiu’s response. “The sect leader will just sweep everything under the rug. We need to find Yue Qingyuan.”  

“Zhangmen-shibo wouldn’t-”  

“Yes, he would,” Shen Qingqiu snaps, not in a mood to hear Liu Qingge out. “Too many people would wag their tongues at Cang Qiong for this if word got out.” Shen Qingqiu releases his hand, letting his own fall to his side. Liu Qingge mourns the loss somewhat, feeling the need to grasp Shen Qingqiu’s palm again. Still, he refrains from doing so as they enter Qiong Ding’s main gate.  

The moment that the odd pair set foot near the main buildings of Qiong Ding, there are a multitude of eyes watching them. Even this late at night, there is still much to do in the main hub of the sect. Whispers flood the courtyard quickly, the previously neutral atmosphere awash with rumors and gossip. Liu Qingge sees as Shen Qingqiu’s steps become more hurried by an infinitesimal amount.  

Thankfully, unlike what had happened on Qing Jing many months ago, no one tries to stop them. Instead, they merely stop and stare. Liu Qingge finds it much better than actual interference and allows the prickling feeling of those many watching gazes slide off his back and down toward the ground. Shen Qingqiu’s shoulders have stiffened further than before, held rigid and unmoving as he walks.  

Liu Qingge has never set foot in Yue Qingyuan’s quarters. Sure, he is aware of the general direction, from when he was a young disciple and he would wait for his Da-shixiong to walk by to challenge him for a spar that he would be solidly thrashed in. Nowadays, Liu Qingge has found Yue Qingyuan to be busy nineteen times out of twenty when he came by to fight, and so he gradually stopped trying. He hadn’t thought that he would be back, and further than ever before, for this particular set of reasons.  

He is pretty sure there is a long trail of blood from Qing Jing to Qiong Ding, though he is also fairly certain that the rainbow bridge would be rid of the stains quickly. Qi burnt up blood very easily, and the concentration of spiritual energy needed to form the bridges was truly no joke.  

Yue Qingyuan’s house is small and rather nondescript, somewhat similar to Shen Qingqiu’s current quarters. Liu Qingge was the exact opposite of someone who would marvel at incredible building designs or features, and so he doesn't protest as Shen Qingqiu marches right up to the door and bangs loudly on the wood.  

Yue Qingyuan appears not long after, looking more annoyed than Liu Qingge has ever seen him before. He mutters something under his breath about how the paperwork was meant to be given to someone else for the week and then pauses upon laying eyes on Shen Qingqiu.  

The annoyance bleeds right out of him so quickly that it is rather comical. Yue Qingyuan hurriedly fixes his usual passive smile to his face. “Ah, greetings to Qingqiu-shidi.”  

Shen Qingqiu narrows his eyes, at least Liu Qingge is pretty sure that was what he did with that brief pause. He is still behind him and is in for no small shock when Shen Qingqiu whirls around to snatch his hand up again. Liu Qingge can't find it in himself to protest when Shen Qingqiu shoves right past the future sect leader and barges into his home, dragging Liu Qingge with him.  

Liu Qingge immediately stumbles when his boot catches the threshold of the doorway. Shen Qingqiu only spares him a brief dirty look before continuing to tug on his arm. He complies, easily following along with Shen Qingqiu when he nudges him into one of two chairs in the room that appeared the moment they entered their Da-shixiong’s house. Shen Qingqiu slides into the other, ignoring Yue Qingyuan when he enters and merely stands there, unable to take a seat with both chairs occupied.  

Yue Qingyuan seems to notice that Liu Qingge is there now, and he turns to Shen Qingqiu as if for an explanation. When the man in question simply stares at him with no small amount of hostility, he coughs lightly and asks: “Did Qingqiu-shidi and Liu-shidi get into another fight?”  

Even Liu Qingge can admire how easily Yue Qingyuan puts his foot into his mouth. Shen Qingqiu’s expression darkens as quickly as a storm cloud rolls into a harbor, an arm extending outward to reach for a fan that isn’t there. He brushes at empty air and then leaves his hand propped up against his hip, acting like he had always meant to do that. Liu Qingge blinks slowly, unsure as to how he had picked up on that.  

“Yue-shixiong, do me a favor.” Shen Qingqiu phrases it like a demand, an order to be followed without question. In a way that spoke volumes regarding his expectations, unyielding in his wants.  

Yue Qingyuan pauses, thick brows furrowing together above deep brown eyes, a spark igniting in the pupils. “Qingqiu-shidi, is there a problem with something- or someone?”  

Shen Qingqiu bites his lip, teeth digging into soft-looking pink flesh not quite hard enough yet to draw blood. “Qi-” he cuts himself off, a frustrated look twisting his features, visible without his fan to conceal it. It’s odd; Shen Qingqiu is hesitating. Shen Qingqiu never hesitates, especially not when speaking.  

“Liu-shidi’s... injured,” he says finally. “This one simply would like for him to remain in Yue-shixiong’s care for some time.”  

“Why not Qian Cao?” Yue Qingyuan asks. He glances at Liu Qingge. As his gaze sweeps over him, it pauses at the wounds that he had accumulated. “Were Qingqiu-shidi and Liu-shidi engaged in combat?”  

It was a repeat of his question from earlier, and Shen Qingqiu looks just as enthused about receiving it as before. That is to say, his expression said that he wanted to rip Yue Qingyuan apart with his bare hands, fiery and so incredibly enraged. However, he himself says nothing, crossing his arms and tilting his head back as if waiting.  

Finally, predictably, Yue Qingyuan gives in with a nod. “Alright, as Qingqiu-shidi wishes.” Honestly, Liu Qingge is unsure as to why exactly he had agreed; Shen Qingqiu had explained practically nothing. However, he keeps his mouth shut, aware that Shen Qingqiu was doing this for his own sake. It was the least Liu Qingge could do to make sure that everything proceeded as smoothly as possible. Already, he can feel guilt curling in his gut, heavy and acidic. Dragging him down, making his throat just a little tighter, the panes of his stomach slightly stiffer.  

Shen Qingqiu turns to Liu Qingge. “Do  not  cause trouble. Lie low for a week or two, do you hear me?” He waits for Liu Qingge’s nod, like a caretaker ensuring that a child understands their assignment. Liu Qingge scowls at him but doesn't push further when Shen Qingqiu mirrors his expression back at him.  

“Don’t fight, don’t cause trouble, don’t even leave the house,” Shen Qingqiu orders. “Call Mu-shidi or Bai-shishu over.” The last line that he speaks is clearly aimed at Yue Qingyuan, who nods meekly and turns to walk out the door. “Mu-shidi would be preferred,” Shen Qingqiu calls over his shoulder as Yue Qingyuan departs. The Qiong Ding head disciple certainly hears, due to his high level of cultivation. Shen Qingqiu, knowing this, doesn’t bother to confirm that he’d registered the information.  

“Can’t I spar with Yue-shixiong or you?” Liu Qingge asks. It was a stupid question, evidently, with the heat of the glare that Shen Qingqiu sends his way. He looks at the floor, unable to face the man head on.  

“Clearly not, brute. Am I your mother? Why do I have to take responsibility for your every action?” Shen Qingqiu sighs when Liu Qingge keeps his mouth firmly sealed. “And stop with the pity. It gets rather annoying when it grinds your spine into powder.” In the doorway, Yue Qingyuan stiffens for a moment before his footsteps resume their previous easy glide. His gait becomes swifter from what Liu Qingge can see and hear from his spot on his chair. Until he can no longer hear those fast-paced steps, Liu Qingge stares blankly in confusion.  

“Okay,” Liu Qingge replies, in lieu of anything useful that he can think of. With the shock starting to wear off, Liu Qingge’s thoughts are beginning to click into place. He can't believe that he hadn’t thought that anything was wrong for so long. Moreso, he didn’t think that Shen Qingqiu could be so horribly... taken advantage of right under his nose.  

He should have known better when he’d seen those marks at the head disciple’s meeting. No, he should’ve sensed that something was off the moment he’d seen Shen Jiu peel the tattered strips of his clothing out of the lines whipped into his back.  

“Liu-shidi should know that I loathe pity and guilt more than most other things in this world. Unless he’d like to trail after me alongside Yue-shixiong?” Arguably, their relationship had been worse before than Shen Qingqiu and Yue Qingyuan’s, though at the very least it hadn’t been a one-sided affair. The two of them had moved past that, though, at least Liu Qingge hopes that they have.  

Liu Qingge isn’t sure what Shen Qingqiu is trying to assert here. Does he think that he wouldn’t think of him as capable with what he had learned? Perhaps, honestly, that sounds close enough to being on brand for Shen Qingqiu. Pity, if someone had asked Liu Qingge if he would ever pity Shen Qingqiu months ago, he would have laughed in their face and drawn his sword to beat them for such a ridiculous statement. He’d have thought that Shen Qingqiu would deserve anything bad, no matter what came upon him. It was surprising how quickly his perception of Shen Qingqiu could change in such a short amount of time, especially considering how his views tended to linger and even stagnate. Well, Liu Qingge can say that he feels awful about Shen Qingqiu’s situation and stomping out whatever pity he feels in his heart would be difficult. Not treating the man himself with pity sounded easy enough, however, as he knows for himself how competent Shen Qingqiu is.  

“Mn.”  

“Ha, have you lost your ability to speak?” Shen Qingqiu only seems to get angrier when he hears Liu Qingge’s response. “Use your words.”  

“I won’t judge or pity you. I’ll help you seek justice from...” Liu Qingge hesitates, unsure whether to address the man he was speaking of as his shibo or the Qing Jing Peak Lord, believing that he doesn't deserve either title.  

“Justice?” Shen Qingqiu rolls his eyes, propping a leg over his other in his seated position in a rougher manner than he would use normally. “A fancy word for revenge. Why would the oh-so-honorable Liu Qingge help me with that?”  

“Why wouldn’t I?” Liu Qingge asks, some complicated, indiscernible feeling curling in his gut with the ache of a sluggishly pulsing wound. “He hurt you.”  

“A lot of people have hurt me. I’ve gotten retribution from a lot of them too. This one, though, I doubt I will.”  

Liu Qingge hesitates for a moment before speaking. “Why not?”  

“Who’d believe  me ,” Shen Qingqiu spits the word not unlike a curse, “over the lofty Qing Jing Peak Lord, removed from all worldly matters?”  

“I can vouch for you,” Liu Qingge says, feeling his offering to be quite small in the face of Shen Qingqiu’s dull stare.  

“You, alone?” Shen Qingqiu props his elbow up on one of the chair’s armrests, leaning closer toward Liu Qingge almost like he was sharing a secret. Liu Qingge can’t help but to copy the action, tilting his head so that he and Shen Qingqiu almost share the same air. “Even if your entire clan supported your word, my shizun is a strategist. With ties to the mortal emperor, to boot. Within a month, there’ll be rumors in the streets about the Liu clan, and within a year the house will be on the path of decline.”  

Liu Qingge falls silent. He can’t help but feel that Shen Qingqiu is right about what his shizun is capable of. It makes frustration simmer beneath his skin, boiling him alive with his weakness.  

He doesn’t have more that he could think of saying, which makes him welcome the moment that Yue Qingyuan returns to the room. His robes look slightly ruffled; he’d probably flown at top speed on his sword to fulfill Shen Qingqiu’s request. With how quickly he had returned, Liu Qingge doesn’t see any other option. Mu Qingfang enters behind him, looking frazzled. There are ink stains on his robes, and an annoyed expression is plastered on his face. He looks tired. Liu Qingge finds it to be a weakness; it may be late, but a cultivator’s stamina should be great.  

When he lays eyes on Liu Qingge, his face changes. Instantly, he seems more alert. His eyes fall on Shen Qingqiu, sitting beside the Bai Zhan head disciple, and then narrow.  

“It wasn’t him,” Liu Qingge blurts out before either could speak.  

“I- alright, Liu-shixiong,” Mu Qingfang sighs, though he can't hide the way that his previously tense shoulders relax slightly. Assumptions, Liu Qingge has made a lot of them himself. He thrusts out his arm for Mu Qingfang to take his wrist, for once willing to be checked over by the doctor, if only because Shen Qingqiu had commanded him to be assessed.  

“...Is this Shi-shibo’s Qi?” Mu Qingfang asks after a moment. From the side, Yue Qingyuan blinks, glancing at Shen Qingqiu for an explanation. The man in question turns his head away, very deliberately ignoring their future sect leader. Mu Qingfang frowns, brow creasing as he continues scanning Liu Qingge’s system. Liu Qingge feels his shidi’s Qi prod at his wounds, working around them, probably to slow the blood flow. He still feels sluggish, but a portion of his previous lightheadedness fades away.  

“Liu-shixiong,” Mu Qingfang begins. “We’d normally use some moderate strength herbs for this type of thing, as well as channeling Qi and knitting the split of the wound together until it is whole again. However, I’m assuming that secrecy is going to be necessary, so only the latter is possible.”  

“How perceptive, Mu-shidi,” Shen Qingqiu raises an arm, hiding half of his face behind a dangling sleeve. Liu Qingge blinks. “This shixiong would advise not to be difficult about a price in the presence of our future Zhangmen.”  

“Of course not,” Mu Qingfang looks almost confused. “This one would not find any trouble with assisting his shixiongs with Liu-shixiong’s recovery.”  

“Is that so,” Shen Qingqiu says. The rest of his sentence was unintelligible to Liu Qingge. A... suggestion of some sort for Qian Cao’s transport routes?  

Mu Qingfang blinks, nods, and thanks a wordless Shen Qingqiu before he launches into a quick yet thorough explanation of his treatment plan: he would have to come in each day for an indefinite period of time, though he estimated it won't take more than a week, to guide Liu Qingge’s body until it healed. Yue Qingyuan nods along, allowing Liu Qingge to use his side room, a matter which he looks quite apologetic about. The Qiong Ding head disciple’s quarters are quite clearly not well-lived in, most likely because it was already a guarantee that he would move into the sect leader’s residence when he succeeded his shizun.  

When Yue Qingyuan, a hopeful expression adorning his features, asks Shen Qingqiu if he would like to stay alongside Liu Qingge. Shen Qingqiu lets out a huff of indignation, clearly unwilling to accept the offer, despite how there were very few other options for him to turn to. For a moment, Liu Qingge thought that he would reluctantly concede, looking annoyed all the while. Instead, Shen Qingqiu stands up and strides to the door, sweeping past them in the time it took to blink. Gone the next moment, leaving Liu Qingge to stare in confusion at his retreating back.  

Liu Qingge frowns, trying to stand up and chase after him. Surely, Shen Qingqiu can't be planning to go back to Qing Jing Peak, right?  

“Liu-shixiong,” Mu Qingfang sighs, trying to push him back down onto his seat. “Your treatment must begin now.”  

Shen Qingqiu hadn’t bothered to explain anything to their future leader nor the healer, not even when Mu Qingfang had found traces of his shibo’s Qi from where it had sliced into Liu Qingge’s skin. Liu Qingge can’t help but think that it was a deliberate move. His words from earlier appear in Liu Qingge’s mind: who would believe them over the Qing Jing Peak Lord?  

Liu Qingge can't help but think that Yue Qingyuan would. With his favoritism for Shen Qingqiu taken into consideration, he can't help but find it very unlikely that Yue Qingyuan would sit idly by when he knew that his shidi was being tormented. If Shen Qingqiu was going to leave- and get hurt returning to-  

“Liu-shidi?” Yue Qingyuan asks, brows drawing together as Liu Qingge begins to fight off the Qian Cao head disciple.  

As Liu Qingge struggles to push Mu Qingfang off, the healer grimaces. He releases Liu Qingge for a moment, allowing him to stand up in the time that it took for him to draw a needle from somewhere inside his sleeve. Liu Qingge only has a moment’s notice before there is a tiny pain blooming along his neck.  

This time, when Liu Qingge slumps over onto the floor to the tune of Mu Qingfang’s heavy sigh, the only thing he can think of is to curse his shidi out with all his heart.  

-  

On Qing Jing Peak, Shen Jiu can feel his shizun’s imagined coils wrapping tighter and tighter around him- strangling him, soon to be delivered into the jaws of a predator. With the Peak Lord’s anger comes punishment, the biting sting of a whip or harsh hands around his waist a mere coin flip away. Unpredictable, yes, and also incredibly easy to incite. Of course, as the man is all but looking for an excuse to inflict pain.  

He asks where Shen Jiu hid Liu Qingge, occasionally. Shen Jiu’s pretty sure that his spies on Qiong Ding have told him already – though if that isn’t the case, rumors still run rampant on Cang Qiong like wildfire – but Yue Qingyuan’s presence is an ever-present deterrent. Even the Qing Jing Peak Lord cannot stand a chance against the mighty wielder of the Xuan Su sword, a fact that never fails to make bitterness rise up from an always simmering place in Shen Jiu’s chest.  

Occasionally, often, really, Shen Jiu lingers on what Liu Qingge had done for him. How on earth had his half-baked plan when he had been under Qi deviation work? How was this possible?  

Everything had relied on the fact that Liu Qingge didn’t actually know his situation. Except, he did now, and somehow, he had fought for him nonetheless. Shen Jiu cannot understand why.  

Liu Qingge saved him. Except he hasn’t, but he tried, and the resentment that Shen Jiu has held for the man is beginning to die away, a faint wisp of smoke all that is left from a once-roaring inferno.  

Haha! It’s funny. It’s so funny. Something is sparking along his ribs.  

There is an ever present-ache on his hips. It feels like large, grasping hands. There is a voice in his ear that sounds deep and breathy.  

“Xiao Jiu really was meant for this,” laughs Qiu Jianluo.  

He hopes that Liu Qingge hadn’t yet gone and blabbered everything that he knew to Yue Qingyuan. One more thing to pity Shen Jiu for isn’t all that much, but the mere thought still tastes like ash in the back of Shen Jiu’s throat.  

Whatever the case, Yue Qingyuan never comes by. Shen Jiu is no longer allowed to leave the sect, trapped by his shizun’s firm hand. The week crawls by agonizingly slowly.  

He can feel a deviation building, steadily crawling toward its peak. No amount of meditating soothes the sting of drawn blood and the rot he can see in the corner of his vision. Shen Jiu is decaying, falling apart while he is still standing there, alive.  

Wu Yanzi’s pleased humming and the cycle of demonic Qi tearing at his meridians fills his dreamscape. It might be even worse when he is awake, even when just standing on one of the many peaks of a foggy mountain range in the early morning. The mist is cool against his skin, gentle and soothing.  

His shizun isn’t here. Shen Jiu doesn’t know where he is, all he knows is that the house was empty when he woke up. It isn’t safe to linger in that place, so Shen Jiu stumbles his way into the bamboo forest when he feels the first spike of his Qi.  

Automatically, he traced his steps toward the Quiet Pool, where he comes often to wash off the filth he had collected over the nights with his shizun. Robes and all, he sunk into the water, keeping his head on the ground at the edge of the pool. His usual elegance is replaced with an ungraceful splash, but he can hardly be bothered to care. Collapsing is easy, exhaustion quickly dragging him down.  

Embracing oblivion is even easier.  

-  

What happens next feels like a miracle.  

One day, Liu Qingge wakes up, pent up energy thrumming in his veins in excess as usual. The sunlight outside Yue Qingyuan’s window shone bright and irritating to him, stuck inside while stubbornly clinging onto Shen Qingqiu’s words from a week prior.  

It isn’t that he doesn't understand the intentions behind those words, it is that Liu Qingge still feels the looming threat of the snake that has cemented its place in Cang Qiong. It almost feels like he is wasting time here, hiding in Yue Qingyuan’s shadow to deter the Qing Jing Peak Lord. Even so, his wounds are only just healing, and Liu Qingge can hardly jump into battle like usual in this situation. A strange feeling, as he hardly ever had true conflict with other human beings that couldn’t be resolved with just fighting. The only exception so far, at least until now, has been Shen Qingqiu, and he can at least hope that their situation can be improved now.  

Anyways, it had rained nonstop the previous night, a torrential downpour that had drenched every rooftop and the ground outside in water. The air outside was probably humid, though only slight puddles remain from the completely covered terrain the other day. If Liu Qingge extends his senses far enough, he can hear disciples chattering just out of sight of Yue Qingyuan’s quarters, complaining of their increased chores from when there had been a leak in one of the storage sheds.  

It’s midday when Yue Qingyuan knocks on the door to his side room, entering a moment later when Liu Qingge says he can come in. He set down the cultivation manual he had found tucked in one of the shelves when he had gone looking for something to do, the enclosed space too small for him to practice sword forms like usual. Oddly enough, the style that the manual highlighted was very distinctly from Qing Jing Peak. Right after putting the item down, he tucks it into his sleeve for later, not wanting to forget.  

“Apologies, shidi,” Yue Qingyuan starts, his calm smile already unshakeable. “This shixiong has an urgent matter to attend to and is unable to remain here longer.”  

Liu Qingge has been expecting Yue Qingyuan to need to leave for longer periods eventually, as he had only stepped out to talk to a fellow disciple or hallmaster or for the delivery of paperwork. The rest of his time was spent filling out said paperwork in the first place, or meditating. Liu Qingge can't help but think that his Da-shixiong’s life is boring and dull, too tedious for a swordmaster.  

Still, the fact that it was labelled an ‘urgent matter’ seems strange to Liu Qingge. Perhaps there was a nighthunt that Yue Qingyuan needed to complete as quickly as possible, or a negotiation with another sect.  

Wordlessly, Liu Qingge nods. He can take care of himself perfectly fine, and if the Qing Jing Peak Lord came in Yue Qingyuan’s absence, well, he would do his best to fight back. His wounds are just healing, yes, but his shibo had been injured too, and surely couldn’t have completely recovered so soon after that blast, even with the increased healing granted by his golden core.  

Yue Qingyuan thanks him for understanding and then leaves, leaving Liu Qingge to brace himself for the upcoming fight.  

Yet, the Qing Jing Peak Lord never appears.  

Liu Qingge waits for a long while, hand tight around Cheng Luan and battle plans flitting through his head one after the other. When the first few shichen passed, he expected his opponent to barge in at every moment. When the sun slowly begins sinking down toward the horizon, Liu Qingge feels no small amount of confusion as to why there had been no need to battle yet. When the night sky began shimmering with emerging stars, Liu Qingge marches out the door and stands on the pathway outside, squinting towards Qing Jing Peak.  

No one ever came, a fact that makes Liu Qingge stew in both anger and questions. Why? Was the Qing Jing Peak Lord avoiding a fight? What was that urgent matter that Yue-shixiong had spoken about? Why?  Why?  

Once the morning had arrived, the sun slowly rising above the mountains of Cang Qiong, dyeing the sky with a brilliant orange-yellow and pink glow, Liu Qingge hears the whispers.  

There is a group of disciples gathering in the middle of one of Qiong Ding’s pathways, their hushed whispers indiscernible to anyone who isn’t actively trying to listen in. Liu Qingge’s senses are able to easily register what they are talking about. Even as he approaches quietly, the group are too fixated on their conversation to notice.  

“-telling you, I saw them fly away.”  

“Really? All twelve?”  

“Well, no, about ten, I think.”  

“Well, why would they-”  

“Are you stupid?”  

“That demon lor-”  

“What are you talking about?” Liu Qingge asks. Every last one of the disciple group yelps as they spin around to face him, identical shocked and slightly guilty expressions greeting him.  

“Ha... hahaha,” one of them laughs awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck while backing away almost imperceptibly. A glare from Liu Qingge has the entire group frozen in place, rooted to the spot as he felt his already small reserve of patience wearing thin. He’d exhausted most, if not all of it, waiting for the Qing Jing Peak Lord to arrive to a fight that never came.  

“What happened?” Liu Qingge puts his hand on the hilt of Cheng Luan, ready and willing to force an answer from the disciples of the first peak. At that movement, his ‘opponents’ quail and immediately give in.  

“Wait, wait!” A girl from the group waves her hands around in the air in a motion for him to stop. “Listen, yesterday I saw our shizun and the majority of our shishu leave the peak all together in the afternoon.”  

“That’s it?” Liu Qingge frowns. “There was more. Tell me.”  

Most of them look hesitant about spilling any more information to Liu Qingge, but after a moment a lanky disciple with his hair tied in a loose top knot speaks up. “Have you heard of the recent development with Tianlang Jun?”  

Tianlang Jun? The name sounds familiar to Liu Qingge, though it takes a moment for him to remember where from. The junshang of the south, one of the two only heavenly demons known to have remained alive. In all honesty, he probably wouldn’t remember the name so easily if he hadn’t marked down his name in his mental list of who he wants to duel eventually.  

“All of them left to fight him?” Liu Qingge speaks the words slowly, mind slowly turning over the new knowledge. That explains why Shen Qingqiu’s shizun had never shown up and raises a few more questions in the back of his mind. “Why?”  

The members of the group he’s interrogating look at each other for a moment before the girl, who seems like a ringleader of sorts, replies: “We aren’t sure. It’s probably not exclusive to our sect, though.”  

“Shijie-”  

She frowns at the disciple who had spoken, a shorter boy that couldn’t have arrived at the sect more than three years ago. “I’m telling you, that emergency meeting that Yue-shixiong had to attend with the other three Great Sects happened just a week ago! It aligns perfectly with what we know!”  

“There’s no proof that they’re going to attack him,” her shidi insists.  

“When have you ever seen our shishu meet with a demon for anything other than defeating them?” When she is met with silence, ‘shijie’ snorts. “Exactly.”  

Another disciple, previously only listening, joins the conversation: “It’s still kind of a stretch, though. It’s not like Tianlang Jun has done anything so far aside from wandering the mortal realm and governing the demonic, without coordinating attacks on us, mind.” Although her words were smooth and should’ve sounded assured, her fidgeting and nervous demeanor give away her anxiety.  

The one with the top knot rolls his eyes. “Come on, if he’s done anything, it’ll be kept private for a while before they find a way to phrase it without embarrassing anyone.”  

‘Shijie’ nods, agreeing with him. “I’m telling you; it’s no coincidence that Head Disciple Su-”  

With the group reanimated and engaging in their debate once more, it is easy for Liu Qingge to slip away without them noticing. He pauses on one of Qiong Ding’s many paths for but a moment before he spins around to the direction of Qing Jing Peak.  

As he walks, he can’t help but notice the lack of blood stains on the ground. Of course, Qiong Ding had appearances to keep up, and it had already been a week since then, but Liu Qingge still finds it disorienting that all of it had been wiped away so cleanly. He doesn’t linger on it for long, however, pushing it from his mind as he retraces the steps that he and Shen Qingqiu had taken together a week prior.  

On Qing Jing Peak, the usually prim and proper scholars seem more uptight, a little ill at ease, with bags under their eyes. There appeared to be less of them, too. From the faint smell of blood that Liu Qingge could smell drifting from where he had learned was the punishment hall, it would appear that the missing number could be found on Qian Cao.  

Shi-shibo was well known for being a demanding teacher, and though his punishments came often, it wasn’t like they had ever been overkill. His image was carefully sculpted to be that of a respectable man. A facade, of course, and a well built one. This excessive use of violence must have been caused by recent circumstances, his mask snapping beneath his anger at how his victim had managed to fight back.  

Liu Qingge stops a random Qing Jing disciple as they walked across from him. To his surprise, it is the one with foxy cunning in his now exhausted eyes, dressed still clean, but more modest and practical. Based on the ink-stained bandage wrapped around what is visible of his forearm, Liu Qingge can guess why.  

Maybe he deserves it. Maybe he doesn’t.  

“Where’s Shen Qingqiu?” Liu Qingge asks.  

The disciple seemed startles, looking up from the scrolls in his arms to look Liu Qingge in the eye. “Ah, Shen-shixiong?” He can’t help but notice that he seems to regard Shen Qingqiu with more respect now. “Last I saw him, the punishment hall.” When Liu Qingge makes no indication of needing to ask him more questions, the disciple scurries away, paper held securely in his arms.  

Liu Qingge considers asking more disciples about Shen Qingqiu’s location, but he first heads in the direction of the punishment hall. It is easy to find, for some reason it was built in close proximity to the entrance. Rarely, when Liu Qingge had visited Shen Qingqiu for spars before, he saw the occasional disciple or two being whipped there by a hallmaster. This time, there is no one there but a tired looking hallmaster wiping at new bloodstains on the ground.  

“Just because that little Ru brat almost blew me up a month ago doesn’t mean that I want to whip his back into ribbons!” she mumbles to herself, furiously scrubbing at the floor with a towel that had already been dyed pink. “Shi-shixiong, just what are you thinking?!”  

Liu Qingge clears his throat, sending a jolt through the woman. She shoots to her feet, and in the space of a moment, she assumes the posture of a graceful instructor. One with a bloody cloth still clutched firmly between (some real, some metal) nails that look capable of cutting sharper than a sword, admittedly.  

“Where’s Shen Qingqiu?” Liu Qingge repeats the question he had asked the disciple from earlier, watching the hallmaster carefully as she eyes him.  

“Shen Qingqiu?” she asks. “I don’t think he’s fit to fight with you right now, Liu brat. Your Shi-shibo brought him here yesterday for personal punishment.”  

The way she phrases it makes the ordeal seem like a perfectly average occurrence, and not something that she had been complaining about the extremity of moments before Liu Qingge had arrived. Her sharp, narrowed eyes dare Liu Qingge to speak on it.  

“I’m not here to spar with him,” Liu Qingge says.  

“That’d be a first, then.”  

With the hallmaster still not budging, Liu Qingge wracks his mind to find an excuse. As she raises a slender brow, Liu Qingge’s eyes darts to the side guiltily.  

Finally, he blurts out: “I’m here to give him a courting gift!”  

The hallmaster in front of him pauses, a long silence taking over the courtyard. Liu Qingge reaches into his sleeve in his panic and draws out the first- the only- thing inside. The cultivation manual that he had accidentally taken with him earlier, from Yue Qingyuan’s bookshelf. Liu Qingge realizes as his hands are already clasped around it, too late to withdraw and pretend that nothing had happened. He pulls it out, looking more closely at it than before.  

A faded cover, worn slightly at the edges. Liu Qingge had only flipped through the first few pages in idle boredom, noting down the battle moves on the very first page.  

For some reason, the moment the hallmaster sets eyes on it, she snorts. “A yellow book? Really? Good luck with that.” Seeming to lose interest, she waves a hand in a flapping motion, gesturing for him to move on. “He should be in your Shi-shibo’s house.”  

Liu Qingge blinks, alarm flaring white-hot through his body. “Why?”  

“Someone has to handle the peak lord work in his absence,” she replies, a small twitch of her brow betraying her confusion.  

Oh.  

That was the truth, wasn’t it? Yet Liu Qingge can't help but realize that there is something deeper, heart sinking in his chest as he turns away. He doesn’t bother thanking the hallmaster as he begins walking at a pace just below sprinting, and he doubts that she expected him to. The thoughts of anything but Shen Qingqiu are discarded easily, gone with the cold breeze.  

Liu Qingge can see his legs moving as his mind is set abuzz. He’d thought- he’d thought that Shen Qingqiu had a plan. Maybe that he’d take a mission outside the sect and stay away indefinitely. He wouldn’t have enjoyed having such a distance in between them, but with Shen Qingqiu’s safety in the question, what else was there to do?  

No, there isn’t any time for excuses. He has to find Shen Qingqiu  now.  

His shibo’s house looks like a normal house. Larger than Shen Qingqiu’s, of course, but that is a given. It almost seems quaint, with its dark roof and the gently trimmed hedges lining the outside. Liu Qingge thought it would look more... ominous, or at least ostentatious, like Huan Hua Palace. He doesn’t linger on it and destroys the door by accident on his way inside. No talismans light up, like that time on Shen Qingqiu’s doorstep. Dead silence greets him.  

Liu Qingge steps through the doorway, a hand on Cheng Luan’s hilt. He doesn’t know why, the peak lord that owns the house is clearly gone, in fact the building almost seemed too empty.  

Completely throwing caution to the wind, Liu Qingge storms through the building, uncaring of what he knocks over as he barges into every room of the house. He finds no one and nothing, not a trace of Shen Qingqiu left in the hut. Slowly growing more panicked, Liu Qingge nearly sprints into the last room, finding a small kitchen and the back door left open, fluttering slightly on its hinges as a gust of wind blows by.  

Liu Qingge glances around at the outside before he heads for the door, finding nothing there but the very edge of the peak, and the clusters of bamboo that started the bamboo forest to the left.  

A sick feeling crawls up from Liu Qingge’s gut as he walks toward the edge of Qing Jing Peak, the grass brushing at his boots as the blades are tugged along by the whim of the breeze. The lowest clouds obscure the ground from sight, but they were thin and wispy enough for him to see through. However, even with a cultivator’s vision, Liu Qingge was unable to spot every detail of the ground below.  

He quickly turns away, shaking the thought out of his head. Shen Qingqiu wouldn’t do that. Liu Qingge might not have known him as well as he thought he had, but that didn’t mean that he would just-  

Liu Qingge strides up to one of the closest stalks of bamboo, pressing a hand to it and closing his eyes. Once before, he’d chased Shen Qingqiu through these shoots, shouting all the way for him to stop running away from him when he came to seek him out for spars. Back then, he’d been full of self-righteous rage, something about how he never denied Shen Qingqiu a fight when he came by Bai Zhan.  

He’d managed to chase him down then. It takes a moment to remember what technique he’d used to extend his sense, and another to apply it. The breath of relief he lets out when he registers Shen Qingqiu’s Qi, cold and thin, winding through the forest, is silent yet heavy.  

Liu Qingge follows Shen Qingqiu’s trail, pace growing faster and faster the more that he moves. The Qi becomes splintered and fragmented the more that he chases after it, a sure sign of an oncoming Qi deviation. Or maybe- one that had already happened.  

Finally, Liu Qingge bursts into an empty clearing. He had heard the splashing of water as he approached, and had felt a slight prickle of confusion, as he was nowhere near any of the koi ponds dotted around Qing Jing Peak. Instead of one of those, however, he has arrived upon a crystal-clear pool of water that looped around a large rock and then continued on until it was blocked from view by more stalks of bamboo.  

Liu Qingge isn’t interested in following it. At the side of the small pond, Shen Qingqiu lay, body submerged, and head tilted upward, resting on the grass beside the water. Still as the dead, if not for the breaths coming slow and soft, chest rising with each inhale.  

Liu Qingge drops to his knees at the edge of the pool, immediately pulling Shen Qingqiu’s limp body out of the water. He’s light, and his hands easily loop around his arms. His skin is cold to the touch, but from what Liu Qingge can feel, the still waters that he had been in for what had likely been hours were freezing. It certainly didn’t help that his spiritual root was yin-based to begin with.  

Feeding his Qi through Shen Qingqiu’s meridians is a much more difficult task than Liu Qingge expected. Sure, he’d heard from Mu Qingfang about how tangled they were, but hearing and feeling for himself are two completely different things. It takes him a while to find which of Shen Qingqiu’s various branching spiritual veins actually lead somewhere, and longer to push enough of his own Qi in to warm him up. It’s not often that he must do such delicate work.  

Thankfully, Shen Qingqiu’s singed pathways smoothed beneath Liu Qingge’s control. He had been on his way to a Qi deviation, but must have fallen unconscious before fully succumbing. At least, that’s what Liu Qingge assumes; he isn’t a medical expert.  

It could have been anywhere from mere moments to a shichen later, but after a while Shen Qingqiu finally begins to stir. His body had grown warm beneath Liu Qingge’s touch, and now that the concern has seeped away, he watches the flutter of Shen Qingqiu’s lashes with rapt attention. Slowly, he reaches forward and brushes at the Qing Jing head disciple’s cheek.  

-Then jolts away immediately, taken aback by his own actions.  Despicable! Where is your Liu clan honor?!  Liu Qingge is given no time to question himself, as a moment later Shen Qingqiu stirs.  

Unlike his normal sharp expression, in sleep Shen Qingqiu looks soft and, well, defenseless. That doesn't change when he’s just waking up, blinking open bleary eyes and slowly pushing himself to sit up, a hazy, soft mist in his eyes that is decreasing by the second. He brushes a strand of hair out of his face with an elegant movement and then pauses. A drop of water slides down the pale skin of his wrist, and Shen Qingqiu seems to startle.  

He directs his gaze toward his surroundings, and, upon laying eyes on Liu Qingge, instantly stiffens. Liu Qingge blinks dumbly at him, and luckily that seems to be enough to calm him down.  

Shen Qingqiu sighs. “What are you doing here, brute? Didn’t I tell you to stay away?”  

“Shi-shibo and most of the other peak lords aren’t in the sect currently,” Liu Qingge answers.  

Shen Qingqiu raises an eyebrow but doesn’t inquire further. Maybe he assumes that Liu Qingge doesn’t know the exact reason, or he may simply be too weary to care. “Ah, so you refuse to call me shixiong, but he’s still Shi-shibo?”  

It takes no time at all for Liu Qingge to flush bright red. “Sorry, shixiong.” After a short pause, he continues: “I don’t know his name.”  

Shen Qingqiu stares at him with a completely blank expression for a moment before he lets out a sharp bark of laughter. Liu Qingge jumps at the noise, having expected his shixiong to be disappointed or at least cross with him. The noise softens into quieter laughter as Shen Qingqiu bends at the waist, curling in on himself. All the while, Liu Qingge watches on, dumbstruck and unable to turn himself away.  

“You absolute oaf,” Shen Qingqiu says, somewhat breathlessly through the force of his giggling. Liu Qingge feels his ears warming up and he quickly turns himself away with a huff.  

Once silence has overtaken the clearing once more, Shen Qingqiu’s laughter still echoing in his ears, Liu Qingge chances a glance at his shixiong. Shen Qingqiu watches him calmly, eyes meeting Liu Qingge’s for a long moment.  

The Bai Zhan head disciple reaches into the folds of his sleeve and tugged out the book he had held earlier. “Here.” His ears and cheeks were both burning.  

Shen Qingqiu took the item, a slight twitch of the mouth indicating... something. Liu Qingge wasn’t sure what. “This is..?”  

“I told a hallmaster earlier that I was going to give it to you.” Liu Qingge says shortly. He suddenly recalls the excuse that he had used to get the woman to tell him where Shen Qingqiu was, and dearly hopes that she won’t breathe a word of the encounter to Shen Qingqiu.  

Shen Qingqiu flips open the book to the first page, a frown overtaking his features. Another few pages later, he slams the volume shut with more force than what seems necessary. A pretty pink hue crawls its way across Shen Qingqiu’s cheeks as he whips his head up to glare at Liu Qingge.  

“Where did you even find this?!”  

Liu Qingge frowns. “It was on Yue-shixiong’s shelf.”  

Shen Qingqiu eyes him, seemingly disbelieving. After a few long moments of his gaze sweeping across Liu Qingge’s face, he speaks. “You’re serious?”  

When he nodded, Shen Qingqiu sighs. “Who would have thought, the venerable Yue Qingyuan...”  

“Huh? Is it forbidden?”  

“Have you looked inside yet?”  

“Only the first few pages.” Liu Qingge feels like he is missing some crucial information, bemused as he is. At this point, he was sure that it wasn’t a cultivation manual, like he had first assumed, at least.  

“Hm.” Shen Qingqiu taps the cover of the book consideringly. “Well, there was a large-scale confiscation of such things before. Perhaps Yue Qingyuan kept one, for whatever reason.”  

Shen Qingqiu turns his gaze back to him, and then promptly snickers at whatever look is on Liu Qingge’s face. His empty-headed confusion must have shown at least somewhat, because his shixiong takes pity on him and passes him the book to look over himself. Liu Qingge turns a few worn pages, paying closer attention to the details this time.  

“Shameless!”  is all he can sputter out a few moments later. Without another thought, his Qi sparks, and the book was entirely incinerated within his grasp.  

“Oh?” Shen Qingqiu raises an eyebrow. “Is this shixiong shameless, then, for participating in such acts?”  

Liu Qingge pauses, having entirely forgotten about the Warm Red Pavilion  –  but then, was that what Shen Qingqiu was referring to? He would like to say that gears are turning in his head, but his train of thought is going nowhere. Suffice it to say, Liu Qingge ends up staring at Shen Qingqiu blankly with his tongue useless and unmoving in his mouth.  

“I don’t sleep with them, you know,” Shen Qingqiu says. “At the Warm Red Pavilion. Not unless you find the literal meaning to be lecherous as well.”  

“You... don’t?” Liu Qingge clenches his fist tightly. Shen Qingqiu had told him not to apologize, but the urge to do so felt near overwhelming. “This shidi will work to repent.”  

Shen Qingqiu lets out an amused half-chuckle. “Why should you? To make yourself feel righteous and noble? You don’t have to, you know. I wouldn’t be able to do anything to you, now that you know one of the greatest of my dirty little secrets.”  

“Is that why you’ve been..?” What? More honest, more open, less uptight around him? Liu Qingge shakes his head. “I won’t tell anyone anything. I’ll keep it to myself.” Seeing how Shen Qingqiu looks less than impressed, or convinced, for that matter, he continues: “I swear on the Liu family name.”  

Shen Qingqiu sneers, lips curling up and revealing the slightest bit of his teeth beneath petal soft lips. “That means less than nothing to anyone but you, dumb brute. Do you think I place any faith in your honor, or that of your family?”  

“Why?” Liu Qingge asks. “I’ll cut Shi-shibo down for you, so you won’t have to live on the same earth with him any longer.” He’d already tried. That makes him Shen Qingqiu’s accomplice, doesn't it?  

Humorlessly, Shen Qingqiu’s mouth ticks up into a condescending smirk. “If you believe you can, you are welcome to try- but you know you can’t, isn’t that right?”  

Liu Qingge grits his teeth as his features morph into a scowl; the usual expression he wears around Shen Qingqiu, though this time not aimed at him. “Why can’t we ask Yue-shixiong for help?”  

“Yue-shixiong?”  

“En. He let me stay with him.”  

Shen Qingqiu has an unfathomable look in his dark eyes, lashes lowering as he looks to the side, away from Liu Qingge. Fixing his gaze on some point further away, on the copse of bamboo to their left. “He won’t believe me. He wouldn’t have helped me even if I’d gone to him.”  

That... doesn’t sound like the Yue-shixiong that Liu Qingge knew. He opens his mouth to say as much but closed it when he sees Shen Qingqiu’s teeth working at his lip, the white edge digging into his flesh until it looks like blood will be drawn. It’s clear that his shixiong wants to say something but is working through it in his mind.  

“Yue-shixiong... owes me a life debt or two. If I’d gone to him, he would have said something like: ‘Qingqiu-shidi, surely Shi-shishu means the best. Just try and get along with him and the rest of your peak.’ Damned bastard.” As he parrots what he thinks that Yue Qingyuan would say, an almost pained look crosses his face before it is wiped cleanly away. Still, it leaves Shen Qingqiu looking cracked and vulnerable, some lost fragment of the two’s past appearing for but a moment, intangible, unable to be grasped by anyone, though Yue Qingyuan seems to never tire of trying.  

Liu Qingge swallows around the ‘why’ on the tip of his tongue and considers. The life debt could possibly explain why Yue Qingyuan favored Shen Qingqiu so, a more reasonable answer to his apparent devotion toward the Qing Jing head disciple than Liu Qingge would have thought. What complicates things is that Shen Qingqiu doesn’t believe that Yue Qingyuan would help him. Maybe he is right. Maybe he isn’t. Liu Qingge has no way of knowing.  

“What are we going to do once Shi-shibo gets back?” Liu Qingge changes the subject. He doesn't miss the way that Shen Qingqiu’s hand clenches tightly into a fist at the mere mention of his shizun.  

“What do you think?” Shen Qingqiu stares at the ground now, brows furrowing. For a moment, he looks so defeated that Liu Qingge feels his teeth itch. In the next, however, something seems to drain out of him. Liu Qingge's breath stutters in his chest as Shen Qingqiu slides closer to him, something undefinable in his gaze, mirth and something else. He reaches out a hand, cupping Liu Qingge’s cheek.  

That slender hand, still too close to Liu Qingge’s face, comes back with a thin, deep-green bamboo leaf between two fingers. The chime of Shen Qingqiu’s laughter, bell-like, rings out as Liu Qingge accidentally moves closer. Now embarrassed, the Bai Zhan head disciple averts his eyes, looking away as if that could spare him from the suddenly rapid beat of his heart, almost like it would jump up and emerge from his throat. In doing so, he misses when Shen Qingqiu actually moves toward him.  

The brush of lips over his cheek was so delicate that Liu Qingge might have missed it, feather-light, like the morning breeze. Even so, it still burns coal-hot under Liu Qingge’s eye- on the beauty mark that Shen Qingqiu had pressed his lips to.  

“You fought for me,” Shen Qingqiu says, lips curling upward slowly enough that it seemed painful. The words are breathless, spat out into the air, a sudden heaviness in the space between them. Liu Qingge would like to think that he had been mulling over that sentence for a long time. “I think I like you.”  

Liu Qingge hardly registers the words, caught in the storm of the swirling heat in his chest. Thankfully, however, he manages to pry open his mouth and utter: “Shen Qingqiu, I really, really like you.”  

There is something dull slamming against the inside of his skull. Liu Qingge is going to flay the Qing Jing Peak Lord alive. Liu Qingge is going to reach forward to wrap his arms around Shen Qingqiu and he is never going to let go.  

Those words seem to surprise Shen Qingqiu, evidenced by the sudden widening of his eyes. The guarded look that Liu Qingge hadn’t even realized had always been present on his shixiong’s face drops, leaving him stunned and so vulnerable.  

Abruptly, Shen Qingqiu stands up, stumbling a little, as his muscles must have cramped due to staying seated for so long. He stares at Liu Qingge, opening his mouth to say something, and then shut it, for once unable to get the words out.  

Liu Qingge holds his gaze, looking back and refusing to falter. Shen Qingqiu spins on his heel, practically running off, too flustered. Still sitting, Liu Qingge stares after him, speechless.  

“Hey...!” he scrambles to his feet, getting up as fast as possible. He chases after Shen Qingqiu, the ground beneath his feet steady beneath every step.  

The bamboo leaf left on the ground is picked up gently by the breeze, spinning around with the wind delicately- and seemingly teasingly as well. One of the two silhouettes in the distance catches up with the other, reaching out a hand to grasp- and hopefully intertwine. The other allows it, hesitant but growing surer with every step taken together.  

-  

When his shizun returns, Shen Jiu has Xiu Ya clenched tightly in his fist, desperately trying to gentle the roiling rush of his Qi, only for the man to never step into his house. Anxiety climbing higher with every moment, he still remains unwavering; renewing and amplifying the arrays he had set up in the little time he’d had.  

It’d be nice if Liu Qingge would approve of this way  –  fighting until his blood had all dried up and his breaths grew faint. Somehow, however, he can tell that he wouldn’t. Shen Jiu would’ve told him what he had planned if it weren’t for that.  

Then, an emergency message is delivered to him by a shaking Qiong Ding inner disciple. The moment he unfurls the scroll and lowers his shaky gaze on it, the item clatters out of his hand.  

-  

The ascension ceremony of the Cang Qiong Mountain Sect Peak Lords had originally been planned a decade from now. However, plans changed; it isn’t that much of a problem to alter the reign of these twelve individuals from a hundred years to ninety.  

The Bai Zhan Peak Lord’s gait is steady as the mountain she stands on, even with the gaping hole in her chest. Even as her breaths come short and uneven, it is the only other sign besides the obvious that gave away what critical condition she was in. Beside her, the Wan Jian and Qian Cao peak lords are missing a limb each, the blood still dripping with wet splatters onto the grass below. Red overpowering green, dark and liquid.  

Keeping this in mind, the sect leader skips a large part of the speech that was usually recited just before ascension, instead simply highlighting how Cang Qiong rose and fell as one before moving toward the Lingxi Caves. Shen Jiu walks up the path curving up the side of the mountain carefully, an eye on his shizun with every step he takes.  

Unlike many of his peers, the Qing Jing Peak Lord had returned with only minor wounds. After all, he was the strategist and likely had only joined the fight in the last moments, where he’d truly been needed. Shen Jiu wishes that he’d never made it back at all. Or, in a critical condition, at least, so the fear that still coiled deep in his spine would finally dissipate.  

Liu Qingge is several paces behind Shen Jiu, walking alongside his own shizun. Of course, he couldn’t just disregard ceremony and move beside someone else, but Shen Jiu wishes that it were possible. He feels unmoored  –  left with nothing solid to hold himself steady on. Who would’ve guessed that Liu Qingge would fit so seamlessly into that empty space in his life? Freedom is so close, his heartbeat pounding in his ears the same way it had when he’d set his eyes on the sword pinned up in Qiu Jianluo’s study.  

In front of him, Yue Qingyuan paints a reassuring picture  –  that is, to anyone but Shen Jiu  –  with his broad shoulders and even pace beside the Zhangmen. The position that he would be ascending to today, of course.  

Shen Jiu wonders what would have happened if he’d told Yue Qingyuan the truth about his shizun years ago. Ironically, sleeping into his position is one of the only rumors that haven't been spread about him yet, most likely because everyone knows that their martial uncle is far too honorable to allow such a thing. Ha!  

Shen Jiu wants to reach forward and push his shizun off the mountain. He wants to see the man fall and fall, with no means to pull himself back up.  

It’s a stupid, foolish thing to dream of. His shizun’s sword is in its sheath, thrumming with power and easily drawn. If Shen Jiu tried anything- an attempt against his shizun’s life or otherwise, he’d be the one in danger instead. He resents it, wants to scream, to stab the man until he was nothing but a mass of broken flesh and bones. If only it weren’t so impossible.  

Their little entourage doesn’t turn toward the entrance of the Lingxi Caves, instead taking another path upward, above. Fast approaching the cloud cover above – Shen Jiu has never been so close to the heavens before. Sure, the peaks of Cang Qiong rest above the lowest layer of clouds, but it is different somehow when looking downward. This scene takes his breath away, though that may simply be an effect of how high up they are now.  

Their group reached the top; the highest point in all of the Cang Qiong Mountain Range. Even some of the other peaks look small from this distance, like the towns below Cang Qiong; each house an anthill, each occupant one of the ants within. Qiong Ding is the largest, as it is the one they are currently standing on. Shen Jiu would like to crush Qing Jing in his palm or below his heel so that he doesn’t have to see it any longer. The bamboo forest sways gently to the tune of a faraway breeze, viridescent. Every stalk looks the same from such a great distance.  

There are twelve circles carved into the flat surface of the rock at the very top. When Shen Jiu looks more closely, he can tell that they hadn’t been chiseled, but more accurately had been pummeled into the stone through sheer force.  

“If shidis and shimeis have anything to say to their successors before we leave, speak now.” The sect leader looked unusually grave as he places a hand on Yue Qingyuan’s shoulder, leaning down to whisper something in his ear.  

Shen Jiu looks at his shizun, feeling drained already. Like a towel, wrung out and used until whatever color he had been dyed originally had long been twisted away. Faded.  

The Qing Jing Peak Lord smiles at him, looking every inch a kind and benevolent master, no matter how much any of them here is aware that he is anything but. He steps closer, until Shen Jiu is flinching back from his touch; too close, too intimate.  

“Qingqiu.” His shizun draws into his space, uncaring of their proximity, violating several texts of propriety as he does so.  

Shen Jiu hates this man with a passion, he realizes suddenly. He has always known it, but that hate bubbled to his gut, erupting upward until he can feel it pulsing at the back of his throat. He feels that if he were to open his mouth and respond, if he were to say anything, his disgust would pour out from his lips, like his stomach acid when he vomits.  

His shizun’s name is Shi Mingling The name sounds wrong and flimsy, immaterial, like that of a moniker rather than the truth. Logically, Shen Jiu knows that he is but a man, simple at the core. Still, he is larger than life, looming over him in his darkest moments, a hand or multiple reaching out from the shadows to clutch at every inch of his body.  

Shen Jiu watches as his shizun comes closer, closer until he is right in front of him. Then, though he sees every movement made and watches the sweeping arc of his arms, he is somehow surprised when he is drawn into a tight hug.  

It’s wrong. It feels so awful, being enveloped so completely like this by someone he wholly despises. Like that time that Qiu Jianluo had sat him on his lap, nose, as well as greedy mouth, pressed to the junction between his neck and shoulder. Somehow, it is worse. Maybe because his eyes are wide and he is in full view of everyone. Perhaps because he can see Qi Qingqi’s sneering face, disdaining the clear show of favor here. Maybe it’s because he can see Liu Qingge’s stony expression, his hand tight around the hilt of Cheng Luan.  

Shen Jiu meets the eyes of the soon-to-be Bai Zhan Peak Lord; the one the common people have begun to call war god. Caught, his eyes somehow don’t waver from the point of light that is Liu Qingge.  

“I’ll see you soon, Qingqiu.” The words are whispered from a mouth pressed to his ear, poisonous tongue coming out to lick a stripe down his ear. The saliva left behind is sticky and burns on Shen Jiu’s skin. He’d like to wipe it away, wash until his whole body has been scrubbed raw. He’d like to go to sleep and wake to a world that has never heard of the man before him.  

Then, of course, the words sink in.  

Thus, because Shen Jiu’s entire life is a comedy, something to be watched and laughed at for amusement, because  oh, that’s so sad it’s funny –  he has somehow forgotten the real reason that they are here today. That is, ascension.  

He is going to hurl himself off this mountain here and now. He is going to reach forward to grasp his shizun’s robes and then spin to send him hurtling down into the yawning nothingness below them.  

It’s so  hilarious  because Shen Jiu has forgotten that ascension does not mean death. Shen Jiu will see this man again in a hundred years, when he is standing here with his own head disciple and climbing higher, past the mortal plane like his shizun is here to do now. When everything he has ever accomplished will be reduced to nothing and he will be back before this man like nothing has even changed since he was a green disciple, like nothing has even changed since he has been a demonic cultivator at the feet of Wu Yanzi or a little slave boy on the lap of a cruel master.  

The sheer rage he feels is enough to freeze him; all-encompassing and too strong for him to contain. Even so, all he feels like doing is laughing – he could laugh and laugh because nothing he can do will mean anything. In the end he will always cycle back to the very beginning, for the fourth time, even.  

He’s already slept his way into being head disciple. What more is there now? Joining the harem of a demonic emperor?  

Now, his shizun is smiling again, backing away from him and turning to walk into one of those craters carved into the mountain. There is a dull static in his ear, and he cannot hear Zhangmen-shibo although his mouth is moving.  

The Bai Zhan Peak Lord slumps over, the movement seemingly coming out of nowhere. It looks like her breaths are coming fast, and there is more blood dripping on the floor. Zhangmen-shibo stops talking, finally, and draws his sword. The rest of the Ming generation does the same.  

Each blade is plunged into the rock. A wave of pure power washed over them all; Shen Jiu doesn't know how he stays on his feet even when it feels like every nerve of his was being dug into, like he was being flayed alive. To his credit, he doesn’t even feel himself move. Shang Qinghua practically collapses on the floor, a puppet with his strings cut. A few of the other head disciples join him soon after.  

Yue Qingyuan doesn't even look impressed, standing there with his smile still fixed on his face and something unfathomable in his eyes. Maybe Shen Jiu would have been able to tell what it was once, but he certainly can’t anymore. The thought is too far away for him to grasp and truly consider.  

Liu Qingge tenses, but that is all. His shizun didn’t say anything to him before she left, though Shen Jiu isn’t sure if it was more due to having nothing to say or because her concentration was fully set on staying awake.  

Shen Jiu’s shizun turns to him, that damned smile still on his face as the fabric of his being begins to glow. He looks heavenly, he  will  be heavenly soon.  

Shen Jiu is so very glad when he can no longer make out each face or figure; the light obscures them all. It’s blindingly bright, but Shen Jiu refuses to close his eyes.  

Near hysterically, as twelve beams of pure power shoot up toward the sky, Shen Jiu thinks that if he ever ends up meeting Tianlang-Jun, he will get down on his knees and thank him. He won’t, but the thought is funny. Suddenly, everything is rather funny; it feels like the wave of sheer relief he is feeling has wiped it all away, a stream that cleanses the dirty and glazes it all in light. Oddly, it is one of the most unpleasant things that he has ever felt.  

Shen Jiu watches as the white in the sky begins to die down. It looks as if holes have been punched into the clouds above, dispersing them with waves of power. Unnecessary; some villages further south could probably use the rain.  

There is blood dripping down his nose. Absentmindedly, Shen Jiu wipes it away on his sleeve. When he looks up, Liu Qingge is staring right at him.  

Shen Jiu smiles. It’s fake and weak, trembling at the edges. It falls away almost immediately. Still, Liu Qingge’s tense shoulders seem to relax.  

As if in a daze, Shen Jiu somehow manages to walk his way through the proper ceremony for him to take his place as the peak lord of Qing Jing. There is a distinct sense of wrongness in each action, but he doesn’t care. He can’t. He has one hundred years to walk and run without staying on the tips of his toes, worried about falling from his precarious perch on the tightrope of his life. A hundred years to stretch his arms out and reach forward without the threat of a whip at his back. It’s novel. It’s wrong but oh-so sweet.  

When he gets back, he is going to order his shizun’s house to be torn down. He is going to build a new one – out of bamboo, probably. Small and compact, with a thin bed that cannot fit a disciple. An Ding can keep the materials, repurpose them, maybe. Or he’ll just set them alight and watch as the smoke dies down.  

There is a distant horror, somewhere, just in reach. Tomorrow, Shen Jiu will have to stand and dress in his shizun’s robes for a sect-wide announcement. He will wear the clothes of the Qing Jing Peak Lord for the rest of his life and he will never be free of him. He is up there, waiting, ever so patient.  

He feels like he is swaying on his feet. Maybe he is. He is exiting Qiong Ding, at the gates already when he feels his wrist being caught.  

Shen Jiu turns, either a barb or a cry or a scream on the tip of his tongue, but he keeps it quiet when he sees Liu Qingge’s face. Earnest, a little too open.  

“Shixiong,” he says. A pause. “He’s gone.”  

Liu Qingge doesn’t have the grace to even look surprised when Shen Jiu surges forward and wraps his arms around him. He only gently brings his own up to surround his lightly shivering form.  

It’s disgusting. It’s disgraceful. Shen Jiu’s skin crawls but he doesn’t let go.  

-  

Liu Qingge glares at the few hovering disciples that still milled around at the front gates. Gossipmongers, the lot of them.  

Thankfully, at least, they all end up scurrying away when they see his eyes on them. This part of Qiong Ding looks strange with the lack of people, but that is perfectly fine with Liu Qingge.  

Shen Qingqiu stands up. It’s an abrupt motion, too quick and a little jerky. Without a noticeable lack of his usual grace, he turns and begins to walk along the rainbow bridge.  

Liu Qingge hesitates for a moment but follows. Shen Qingqiu hasn’t told him to back off yet, and his pace is far from the fastest he can move. Despite how his senses haven’t grown any sharper, Liu Qingge is now much better at finding all these details that used to just be nothing to him. The flap of a fan or the tap of a heel or the swish of a sleeve.  

Shen Qingqiu doesn't look at him, though Liu Qingge is sure that he can hear his footsteps from behind. The two of them stay in silence for some time, while Shen Qingqiu seems to be formulating some words in his mind.  

It’s in the middle of the rainbow bridge where he stops. There aren’t many people, thankfully, at this time of day. In fact, there are zero at this particular moment, their heads must be turned to the sky on their own peaks right now to watch as the beams of light that were once people dissolved into the atmosphere.  

“I’m not going to ascend.” The words seem to tear their way free of Shen Qingqiu’s throat, quietly spoken, but loud with the context of their meaning. “I never want to see him again. I’m never  going  to see him again.”  

Who Shen Qingqiu is referring to when saying ‘him’ is obvious. Liu Qingge doesn’t even have to guess.  

Shen Qingqiu is looking at him now, with something wide and fearful about his eyes. He’s waiting for a response, Liu Qingge realizes, not simply throwing the words out there for someone to hear or making a statement.  

“Okay,” Liu Qingge says. The word is nothing special, in fact it is one of the most ordinary ones out there. Here, however, it is far too important; something that will either make or break their future, the explosion from the tailfeather of a Fireworks Moonlight Hawk in bleak night. “I won’t either.”  

Shen Qingqiu looks at him, simply holding his gaze for a long moment. Liu Qingge knows that the words aren’t nearly polished nor eloquent enough for such a significant declaration, only implying what he was trying to say rather than stating it dramatically. Without flair, as Liu Qingge tries to do things.  

I’ll spend the rest of my life with you.  That’s what he’s saying.  I’ll stay with you.  

Maybe Shen Qingqiu is trying to discern whether he’s telling the truth, if he even knows the enormity of what he is saying with those few words. His eyes are wide, larger than Liu Qingge has ever seen them before, deep, a pool of clear water or the glittering night sky. There is something gleaming in them, catching the light, too bright and dangerous.  

“Really, brute?” the words came out snide, but hoarse. “You’re practically guaranteed to be able to rise up into the heavens. A renowned martial god, a step up from where you are now.”  

Liu Qingge shakes his head, his ponytail whipping about in the air around him with the force of it. “No, it doesn’t matter. Cultivators can live hundreds of years anyway. I’d want to spend those with you.”  

Shen Qingqiu halts, stiff-backed, a hand clenched into a fist within his sleeve – Liu Qingge can tell. Slowly, however, he seems to lose some of that tension, loosening like a bowstring once the arrow has been released. He looks exhausted, now, drained from a day of torment. Similarly, Liu Qingge can feel his own muscles relaxing.  

“You have such a huge head,” Shen Qingqiu manages.  

It’s over.  

Not everything, of course. The two of them have their lives ahead of them, spanning a great distance like a far-off field. For now, though, it’s over.  

That’s what this all means to Shen Qingqiu. To the man standing beside Liu Qingge, this is the rest after a day and years of sprinting. He’s pausing now, stopping in his tracks for the first time in ages.  

When the rain starts again, Liu Qingge is all too willing to be the one holding an umbrella aloft over his head. It’s sappy, stupid, and sentimental but it’s fine if it’s Shen Qingqiu with him.  

Liu Qingge is just glad to have realized this.