Da-ge isn't allowed to help him dig the hole.
Binghe doesn't mind, since he'd never planned to ask Da-ge for help with the selection trials anyway, but Da-ge does. It leaves him restless, and while Binghe gradually becomes a grimey, sweaty mess all over their freshly cleaned clothes, Da-ge keeps subtly sneaking control of their eyes to peek up at the gathering of watching Cultivators.
"...Qi-shimei, Mu-shidi, Airplane's head disciple..."
Binghe doesn't know what he's looking for, but it is a bit startling how many people his guardian can identify at a glance.
"You'll know them all too one day," Da-ge assures absently, half his soul still stealing glances and naming off faces. Binghe doubts it- atleast, he doubts it as Da-ge means it. Also...
Da-ge's thoughts briefly stall, stuttering on 'Ku Xing's Head Disciple'. "Ah. Yes. Well. Bing'er will-...Bing'er-..."
He doesn't finish his sentence. Binghe doesn't understand why until he focuses outward and notices feet standing right in front of them.
"Hi!" A bubbly girl greets him. Her hair is in loops and her clothes are green and white. She extends down a clean palm, not a care in the world that Binghe's own are caked in dirt, and introduces herself without a hint of nervousness. "This one is Ning Yingying of Qing Jing Peak; would you like to be this one's shidi?"
Binghe stares up at her owlishly. Inwardly he turns to his guardian, holding onto his clothes tightly. "Da-ge?"
Da-ge's lips purse. "I can't choose for you, Bing'er."
Binghe stares at her for a moment longer, taking in her happy countenance and easy stance. Surely...Surely someone so at ease comes from a good place?
Da-ge says nothing in response. He feels distant, tense, but not threatened. It's enough assurance for Binghe to reach back and take Ning Yingying's hand.
[Congratulations! Congratulations! Congratulations! New milestone reached! Character: Luo Binghe has earned the title "New Recruit!"]
[Good Luck with the Acceptance Ceremony!]
Upon first sight of his potential Shizun, Binghe only has one thought:
His guardian emotions go through a confused wave of 'No!', 'Settle Down, settle down', 'No, no, no!'
"We are not the same, Bing'er."
But they looked the same-
No. No, that wasn't right. This man in front of Binghe might have looked like Da-ge, but Da-ge no longer looked quite like him. Not anymore.
Da-ge picks up on that thought and goes still like stone, "What do you mean."
It's still disorienting, looking out and in at the same time, but Binghe does it, just to be sure. He hums, "Da-ge...Da-ge's hair isn't straight like that anymore. His eyes aren't the same shape either, and his cheeks are a little fuller." He feels a silly wriggle of glee and warmth briefly tighten his chest, "Da-ge looks a bit like Bing'er now."
Binghe frowns. "Does Da-ge not like it?"
"That's not it," Da-ge is quick to assure. Binghe relaxes and leans into his side as they walk, his physical eyes trained on the swaying length of inky hair before him but his mind focusing on the mixing flavors of emotions swirling uneasily in his Da-ge's heart.
"This Master worries what such changes might mean," Da-ge agrees, laying a hand on his hair and tussling his curls. Quiet praise!
Binghe pushes up into the touch like some cats do, holding onto his guardian's wrist with both his small hands- taking simple joy in knowing that his Da-ge could feel his delight and his quiet demand alike and know that his guardian would happily do this forever if Binghe asked. "Maybe it's not a bad thing?"
Da-ge moves before Binghe even understands why.
"Clean up this mess and go," His new Shizun orders, setting the recently emptied teacup down just a tad too sharply before he stands and leaves the little bamboo house himself.
Binghe is left sitting there, blinking down at his folded hands. He watches steaming liquid- freshly made, piping hot, his first attempt at making a brew in his life- drip down his bangs and pool around his legs. He can feel some of it going down his neck, soaking into the fabric of his brand new disciple robes.
They'll stain, he thinks; the washerwoman's son in him forever aware of these sorts of things. His body is shaking. The places the tea has touched are bright red and shiny. He feels...none of it.
Da-ge is there: above him, around him. Holding him tightly to his chest and- if he'd had a body of his own- shielding him.
"Binghe- Binghe is alright?" Da-ge asks. Like Binghe's body, he's shaking. His question is asked through clenched teeth, like he's hurting.
"Bing'er," he corrects faintly. He doesn't understand why.
Da-ge barks out a strained laugh into his hair. It's not true amusement, just a startle response. He hadn't noticed the slip then.
Notably, he doesn't pull away. Equally noted is his lack of explanation, his lack of *surprise*.
Binghe's eyes burn. "Did...Did you know? That he might do that?"
Da-ge should have just hit him; it would have hurt less.
"Why?" Binghe reaches up and claws into the back of Da-ge's robes, his voice losing structure as what happened finally dawns. "I don't understand. Why?"
That wasn't an answer. That didn't help him understand!
"Why?!" He tries to make his grip more clawing, tries to make it harder to bear. Why let him come here? Why let him be taken in by a man who'd throw boiling tea on him? Why did that man throw boiling tea on him in the first place?!
Binghe startles. The system-spirit? What did it have to do with this?
"System has rules," Da-ge says slowly, less like he thinks Binghe needs it, and more like he's choosing his words very, *very* carefully. "System, at the end of the day-..."
He cuts himself off. There's a fission in him, a balking. It brings to mind a stubborn mule unwilling to be led, or a reluctantly tamed dog gaging if the hand that feeds might also be the hand that beats that day.
It clicks. It clicks so cleanly that it throws Binghe right out of his fit. "System-spirit...is Da-ge's master?"
The balking turns into bristling, but Da-ge doesn't deny it. There's shame there, too; Binghe feels it, and it's *old.* Undeniable.
System-spirit has been his Da-ge's master for a while then.
Binghe stares at his hands. The system-spirit he knew was incompetent but well meaning. It found loopholes to help him, made silly faces with odd symbols to express itself in ways Binghe could more easily understand, and always tried its best to assist, even if it's assistance often led to shenanigans. He'd also known, of course, that it had a job, and he'd known that job involved keeping Binghe alive from the very beginning for some unsaid purpose.
On the same hand, he'd also known his guardian barely tolerated the System-spirit at best. He'd always assumed it was the incompetence that rankled his Da-ge so. Was it-...had it actually been, that every time system-spirit appeared, Da-ge felt threatened?
For Binghe, system-spirit had never, not once, ever registered as something to fear, or even capable of harm. It had been....more of a friend, almost. Could it be that, in actuality, it just hadn't ever been a threat to *him*?
"Bing'er is thinking too hard," Da-ge sighs. "Come on, get up. We'll need to clean this up and get you settled in."
Binghe does as bid. Da-ge doesn't let go until Binghe is standing on his own two feet, and when he does, Binghe feels familiar warmth flare in his body as he backs away. When he looks down, the shiny red skin is gone.
Just like it never happened.
Binghe looks to his Da-ge. He doesn't know what he's feeling. He doesn't yet have a name for this awful twisting in his gut. All he can think of is his fingers digging into that broad back, wanting genuinely, even if just for a moment, to make it *hurt.*
And his Da-ge hadn't let him feel those burns for even a second.
