Fic by fancywaffles

Shen Yuan got home very late, unsurprised but disappointed not to see Liu Qingge there. An emergency requiring the War God was likely to take more than a few days. He hoped it didn’t take weeks. 

He lured Ghibli into the house so he could have something to snuggle with, sacrificing an old trinket he didn’t use anymore to its hidden mouth buried under that odd feeling black fur. Shen Yuan indulged himself for a while, snuggling up to Ghibli and pulling out a horrible book Mingyan had sent him. She had horrendous taste in literature, but he couldn’t stop reading it—there was always a small hope it would turn around and get better. 

An hour later and it still hadn’t. His candles were burning down and he was getting tired again, so Shen Yuan gave in and was about to get ready for bed when there was a soft knock at his door.

Ghibli softly snoozed on the pillows he’d thrown on the floor and none of Shen Yuan’s alert arrays had been set off. Shen Yuan still made sure he had his sword at hand before he went to open it. It was pretty late for—

A youth wearing black, shouldering a modest, unadorned longsword, his complexion as clear as jade, his eyes like two deep pools of cold starlight stood there.

Shen Yuan woke up to the smell of something delicious and thought he might be hallucinating. He considered himself a passable cook, but nothing that good ever came out of his kitchen. He knew it wasn’t Qingge either, because as much as he loved the man, Liu Qingge would’ve practiced inedia much longer than was healthy purely out of finding the concept of eating when he could be fighting a waste of time.

Shen Yuan patted his hair and realized he’d forgotten to tie it up before bed. It probably looked like a nest for a Red-Viper Fire-Cardinal. He was still brushing it out when he reached the kitchen to see Luo Binghe, sleeves rolled up, chopping green onions.

“Good morning, Yuan-ge!” Luo Binghe smiled brightly at him, there was the faintest hint of the red cord around his neck as he turned. “You didn’t have a lot of ingredients so I had to make do.” 

“You’re… making me breakfast?” Shen Yuan asked. Sure, he’d done that when he was a kid, but didn’t only his wives get that treatment at this point? Was this part of his seduction plan to get Shen Yuan to let him dual cultivate to heal his busted meridians?

“It is the least this one could do,” Luo Binghe said, very seriously. “Getting my mother’s pendant back to me is—there is no way this one could ever repay this debt.”

Shen Yuan could think of a few things he wouldn’t mind asking for, but he'd have to wait until the idea of destroying Cang Qiong and merging the realms actually came up authentically. 

“You didn’t have to,” Shen Yuan said, but it smelled really good. He sat down and waited, brushing all the tangles free from his hair and working it into a braid over his shoulder. 

Luo Binghe set down a bowl of snow white congee, with choice pieces of pork, shredded ginger, and green onions. There was a small bowl of berries on the side as well. Shen Yuan was not sure he had those in storage. They looked freshly picked.

He spent extra time everyday practicing, which added to his already pretty heavy schedule. Shen Yuan was still putting in at least half a shichen a day on Plucked Leaves Flying Flowers (he could get a decent C-Drama worthy floral rainfall now which was very pretty and ultimately useless). They’d gotten a few new juniors who he could actually call shidi and shimei and Shen Qingqiu told him to assist with their beginner music lessons.

Shen Yuan was pretty certain his shizun meant it as a punishment, but Shen Yuan actually really enjoyed working with kids. They weren’t judging him all day everyday and even the spoiled ones were happy to learn with the right encouragement.

In addition to that, Shen Yuan had his regular classes and training, helping out Ming Fan, and volunteering on Qian Cao at least once a week. 

It meant by the time he was suffering while staring at a complicated move on the weiqi board in the Bamboo House, his head was swimming. Shen Yuan made his turn and sighed as Shen Qingqiu made that tutting breath noise that meant he’d goofed it up. It took Shen Qingqiu a couple more turns before the game was done.

Shen Qingqiu waved Shen Yuan off resetting the board and made him come with him to his office. Shen Yuan hadn’t been back there before. It was the same size as Mu Qingfang’s, but it felt smaller with the shelves stacked with scrolls and books. There was a massive pile of paperwork on Shen Qingqiu’s desk too. 

“Sit here and mark these,” Shen Qingqiu said, gesturing to a pillow with a low desk near him. It kind of felt like where a jester might sit for a king. Shen Yuan swallowed that thought although somehow Shen Qingqiu always seemed to know when he was thinking something snarky, because he glared at him before slapping more papers down on the desk.

Thankfully for Shen Yuan, it was straightforward work. He was basically grading papers. He made the mistake of joking about cinnabar for the ‘red ink’ approach and could tell Shen Qingqiu liked that idea.

He would. Sadist.

Then again, Shen Yuan couldn’t blame him given some of these assignments. He had to remember they were kids before he dug deep and released his old spirit of ‘Peerless Cucumber’ to flame their absolute lack of story structure.

“I require your assistance with preparations for the upcoming Immortal Alliance Conference,” Shen Qingqiu said. “Come after your lessons tomorrow.”

That seemed more like a Ming Fan thing, but Shen Yuan was too tired to argue. “Yes, Shizun.”

Shen Yuan got home very late, unsurprised but disappointed not to see Liu Qingge there. An emergency requiring the War God was likely to take more than a few days. He hoped it didn’t take weeks. 

He lured Ghibli into the house so he could have something to snuggle with, sacrificing an old trinket he didn’t use anymore to its hidden mouth buried under that odd feeling black fur. Shen Yuan indulged himself for a while, snuggling up to Ghibli and pulling out a horrible book Mingyan had sent him. She had horrendous taste in literature, but he couldn’t stop reading it—there was always a small hope it would turn around and get better. 

An hour later and it still hadn’t. His candles were burning down and he was getting tired again, so Shen Yuan gave in and was about to get ready for bed when there was a soft knock at his door.

Ghibli softly snoozed on the pillows he’d thrown on the floor and none of Shen Yuan’s alert arrays had been set off. Shen Yuan still made sure he had his sword at hand before he went to open it. It was pretty late for—

A youth wearing black, shouldering a modest, unadorned longsword, his complexion as clear as jade, his eyes like two deep pools of cold starlight stood there.

Wan Qingyu held up a piece of parchment with an unfamiliar symbol on it. Most of the Peak Lords looked at in curiosity, but Shen Qingqiu had brought his fan down far enough to see a brief flash of an emotion on his face—Liu Qingge couldn’t examine it, because Shang Qinghua muttered, “holy shit,” under his breath, which distracted him.

“Are you certain that was the symbol?” Yue Qingyuan asked. 

“We’re in the process of trying to refine the bone now,” Zhong Qingzu said, grimly, “and it was much smaller, but this is the symbol.” 

The Peak Lords looked to Yue Qingyuan for explanation. He closed his eyes for a moment and then addressed them. “That is a zuiyin. A mark of sin. That specific symbol denotes a Heavenly Demon. I last saw it on Tianlang-jun.”

“Wouldn’t we have been notified if the seals were broken?” Qi Qingqi asked, amongst the immediate chatter at that revelation.

Yue Qingyuan nodded. “Even if Huan Hua Palace decided to keep the information, I have several markers that would have alerted me.” 

“If a talisman and array can be manipulated,” Wu Chang Peak Lord, Lai Qinglan said, steadily. “Then Huan Hua Palace and Tianlang-jun would be the ones with the ability to do so.”

“We must immediately send someone to Bai Lu Mountain and Huan Hua to confirm this,” Qi Qingqi said. 

Liu Qingge shifted in his seat. He knew there had been no demonic attacks in the forest surrounding that mountain for over two decades and the singular pathetic demonic creature (that Zhan Yuan had insisted on not killing) wasn’t any kind of threat. Still… “I’ll go.”

Shen Qingqiu scoffed. “Of course you will. Your dual cultivator lives there.” 

Liu Qingge stood up, his hand on his sword. He said ‘dual cultivator’ the same way he’d say much worse terms.

“Liu-shidi, Qingqiu-shidi, please,” Yue Qingyuan said, gently. “This is too important to… be side tracked.”

Being at Qian Cao Peak often enough also had the added benefit of running into Binghe. Thankfully, not because he was injured, but usually because one of his peakmates was. 

Shen Yuan had witnessed many times over the past year Liu Qingge and Mu Qingfang fighting over how many body parts were bleeding and whether or not it was an issue. It generally seemed like an issue. Liu Qingge only seemed to think it was a concern if one of them might fall off. 

“Hey, did you shoot up another cun?” Shen Yuan asked Luo Binghe one day while they watched Liu Qingge and Mu Qingfang argue about whether or not he needed observation for what was absolutely a concussion and definitely still bleeding. 

Luo Binghe stood up a little straighter. “Maybe.”

Shen Yuan laughed and nudged his shoulder. “At least I know they’re feeding you there.” 

Luo Binghe smiled and then shot a slightly despairing look in Liu Qingge’s direction. “Shizun goes on hunts once a month to bring back meat for the kitchens.” 

“Like, demonic and spiritual beast meat?” Shen Yuan asked.

Luo Binghe looked at him slyly. “Sometimes. The ones that can help with cultivation strengthening.” He sort of fiddled with Shen Yuan’s sleeve like a comfort habit he didn't seem to grow out of. “I can bring you some next time.”

“Oh, that’s going to go over great,” Shen Yuan said, smothering a laugh as he pictured it. “A Bai Zhan raid and I get a picnic.” 

“It doesn’t have to be a raid,” Luo Binghe said, “Shizun is teaching me some stealth tactics. It’s fair to practice them.”

“Mm,” Shen Yuan said, not convinced. “I don’t know if your shizun would want you practicing in the danger of my shizun.” He had been doing pretty well of keeping them separated so far and Shen Yuan was feeling a lot better about the future plot because of that.

He still hadn’t figured out the Immortal Alliance Conference and Endless Abyss bit, but that was years from now.

“Yuan-ge?” Luo Binghe asked.

“Yuan-shixiong,” Shen Yuan corrected, even though he didn’t actually care.

Luo Binghe knew that and ignored him. Usually he’d grin too, but he seemed serious. “Your shizun isn’t…expecting things is he?”

Apparently those rumors were so bad, a now twelve year old Luo Binghe was finding a way to covertly ask about them. Shen Yuan thought he was numb to it, but that actually pissed him off. 

“Shizun treats me like any other disciple,” Shen Yuan said, firmly. 

Luo Binghe seemed relieved. He opened his mouth to say something—probably apologize when Liu Qingge passed out and Mu Qingfang barely caught him in time.

“Can’t exactly get the last word this way, but I did tell you this would happen,” Mu Qingfang said, as Shen Yuan and Luo Binghe rushed over to help him get an unconscious Liu Qingge on the medical cot. 

“Hey, Binghe,” Shen Yuan asked, once there was no immediate concern about the Bai Zhan War God beyond him giving Mu Qingfang an ulcer. “You cook for Liu-shishu, right?” 

“Sometimes,” Luo Binghe said, almost a chirp. “He practices inedia or goes off mountain often.”