radish writes

「 ？」

他不由自主的喊出了他的名字，然而只迎来了其他教官们的疑惑。他们不解地问道，那是谁？没听过这个名字啊？

怎么可能？

并肩作战的战友，同生共死的兄弟，那么耀眼的存在，怎么可能被忘却？

游惑慌了。

无视着同伴们在他背后惊讶的喊叫声，他不管不顾地跑了出去，直奔他们的家。那是他和爱人最近才搬去同居的地方，一定会有他存在过的痕迹。

然而什么都没有。

不可置信的目光扫过空荡荡的屋子，每一个角落都没放过却没有一点收获，没有一点希望。最后的一缕理智也随之而散了。

失落和不甘像潮水般涌来，凶猛的填满了游惑的胸腔，令呼吸也变得困难。拥有过才会懂得失去的痛苦，即便一切拥有过的只是一场美好的梦。

上一秒的阳光已然转变成寂静的黑夜。

游惑费劲心思想要捕捉最后一眼曾经的美好，却抵不过黑暗吞噬所有的速度。难道连这点念想都不能留给他吗？

好委屈啊。这是个很幼稚的想法。他有点嫌弃。

不知为何，他摸上了他的耳朵。那里什么都没有。

前方只有无尽的漆黑。

算了吧，他想。还是睡吧。

… … …

刺耳的机械声在耳边响起。

滴，滴，滴。

还有水声？他隐隐约约能猜到那是什么。

随后，一股消毒水的味道飘过了鼻尖，清除了最后的疑惑，清醒意识也渐渐的回归。

他没有急着睁眼，先躺在不算柔软的床单上试探着身体每个部位的活动性。嗯，四肢都在，就是使不上力，腹部和胸部传来一阵阵的酸痛感。在忍耐范围内，可能打了不少止痛药。

是白天吧，他能感受到透过薄薄眼皮的暖光。

在他尝试睁眼的那一瞬间，他才察觉到他有一只手被紧紧的握着，因为突然收的更紧了。

「情爱的？」

是很熟悉的声音。

病痛被抛在脑后，他突然想笑。

他终于成功的睁开了一双浅色眼睛，因长睡而视线有点模糊，但他还是如愿看到了那张脸。那是他的真实。

「在呢。」 他用沙哑的嗓音说道: 「我回来了，秦究。」

秦究得到了久违的回复，小心翼翼的把头埋在了游惑的肩窝里。

「大考官。」 他道：「欢迎回来。」

不管多少次离别，他们终将重逢。

… … … … …

He waves his fingers a little, still suspended in the air towards his husband. Something red on his skin catches his eye. A rash? Attention diverted, he retracts his hand to take a closer look.

A bolt of recognition jolts through him just as a large hand closes around his infected one. He looks up at Luo Binghe, who has soundlessly crouched down next to him, a strange expression on his face. The young demon lord doesn’t meet his eyes, staring instead at their joined hands.

To anyone else, that expression may as well be unreadable. To Shen Qingqiu, it says worry, confusion, conflict. His mind is spinning, a hundred revolutions per millisecond.

“Sowers…?” Shen Qingqiu murmurs absently under his breath. Luo Binghe’s thumb gently rubs against the skin of his hand and the red fades along with the itch.

“Apologies, Shizun,” Luo Binghe says at last. “You must have been feeling very unwell. This disciple came late.”

“Mn, indeed a little late,” Shen Qingqiu replies, teasingly, out of habit. “Uh.”

Luo Binghe stares at him.

Slowly, Luo Binghe slides his hand up Shen Qingqiu’s wrist, then his arm, all the while watching his face carefully. His expression turns even stranger when Shen Qingqiu doesn’t stop him.

Welp.

Even through the persisting headache, Shen Qingqiu has managed to put the pieces together. At least enough to see the bigger picture. He finally catches Luo Binghe’s hand and pulls it back down.

As if waiting for this excuse, Luo Binghe’s lips thin.

“Ah, is Shizun so disgusted by this disciple’s touch that—”

His passive aggressive speech turns into spluttering when Shen Qingqiu drops his head against his shoulder.

“Give me a moment,” Shen Qingqiu grumbles. “Head hurts. What is this nonsense so early in the morning, heavens above.”  

“S-shizun?!”

“Anyway, can we get up off the floor first? It’s rather cold, actually.”

When Luo Binghe doesn’t move, Shen Qingqiu pats his shoulder. Still nothing.  

“Really now?” Impatient, Shen Qingqiu resorts to using Luo Binghe as leverage to hoist himself upright, keeping up a stream of complaints as he did so. “Thinking back, you were so unnecessarily dramatic. Huanhua Palace, sowers, water prison…everything. I was at fault as well, but why couldn’t you have just said something? Would’ve made it so much easier. Ah, well.”

When he is successfully back on his feet, he turns around to face Luo Binghe, only to nearly fall over again as he’s abruptly crowded against the table. His de-aged husband boxes him in with sturdy arms so that he’s forced to lean back slightly lest he ram his forehead against Luo Binghe’s nose.

“So Shizun does indeed find the antics of demons to be unsavoury—”

Shen Qingqiu cuts him off again. By pinching his side.

“There you go again with your assumptions.” Shen Qingqiu shimmies a hand up from where it’s trapped against his side to poke Luo Binghe’s very solid chest. “Granted, I did not make it very easy for you back then, but can’t you listen to me right now?”  

He would very much like to figure out how he got here first, thanks. This Luo Binghe isn’t helping matters. The quickest way to clear up this historical misunderstanding might be to kiss him straight on the lips, Shen Qingqiu thinks, though he’s not sure Luo Binghe would survive that. Too soon, maybe. Probably.

“Binghe, listen…”

A series of sharp knocks interrupts him. They both turn their heads towards the entrance.

“Shen Qingqiu.”

Unceremoniously, Liu Qingge throws open the door and steps into the room. He freezes. Shen Qingqiu can tell the moment he registers his and Luo Binghe’s rather scandalous position. Ah.

“What is this?” With a shink, Chengluan leaves its sheath. “Step away from him.”

“Liu…shishu.”

Shen Qingqiu barely refrains from rolling his eyes at Luo Binghe’s suddenly poisonous tone. He pushes gently at Luo Binghe, wanting to straighten up and speak to True Bro Liu in a more dignified manner. As expected, Luo Binghe doesn’t budge. What he does instead is snake an arm around Shen Qingqiu’s waist while holding Liu Qingge’s glare tauntingly. Shen Qingqiu is a little surprised — Luo Binghe didn’t originally show his “true colours” this early on.

“Insolent brat!” Liu Qingge has clearly recognized Luo Binghe by now.

“Why, is Liu-shishu the only one privileged enough to enter Shizun’s room freely?”

“If you still think of him as your master, unhand him immediately!”

“And if I don’t?”

Chengluan glints as Liu Qingge’s grip tightens. “Then—!”

“Now, now.” Shen Qingqiu interjects. “It’s okay, Liu-shidi. We were just speaking. Binghe means no harm.”

“How do you know that? You told us your dead disciple has suddenly reappeared as a Huanhua disciple. Why did he not return to Cangqiong right away, if not for some ulterior motive?”

“I suppose you’re not wrong about that,” Shen Qingqiu says, slightly amused. “But, in that case, I am well aware of what that motive is.”

“Do you?” Luo Binghe chuckles darkly. “If Shizun truly knows, then…”

“You want answers, right?” Shen Qingqiu turns back to him.

“Answers…yes. I want answers. But if I ask…” Luo Binghe’s grip around his waist tightens. “Shizun would be disgusted.”

“Are you sure about that?”

In the background, Shen Qingqiu vaguely registers Mu Qingfang entering the room, probably attracted by the commotion. He sends a silent apology in both his shidis’ direction as he leans in.

Mwah.

In a practiced motion, he lands a smooch against Luo Binghe’s forehead.

“Does that answer it a little?”

Hm. Oh dear, Luo_Binghe.exe looks like it has stopped functioning. Does he need a reboot?

“Shen Qingqiu! You—?! Wha—?!”

“Shen-shixiong?!”

Shen Qingqiu shoots Liu Qingge and Mu Qingfang a sheepish smile. However, he has no time to explain. Without warning, the entirety of Luo Binghe’s weight falls against him and he stumbles back against the table behind him. He only just manages to catch Luo Binghe before they both end up sprawled on the floor.

“Binghe?!”

Um, did he pass out from the shock? No way, right? Hurriedly, he tilts Luo Binghe’s chin upwards to see that his eyes have glazed over. Thank the heavens it only lasts a second before Luo Binghe blinks back into consciousness.

“Shizun…?”

Another blink.

“Shizun!”

The menacing hold from before turns now into a snuggling embrace as Luo Binghe visibly brightens.

“Shizun, I found you! This disciple was so worried when you wouldn’t wake up this morning. It took far too long to pinpoint your location since Xinmo’s repair is still ongoing…”

Shen Qingqiu pats his fluffy head, shakily, recovering from that heart-stopping moment. “Binghe did very well. Thank you for finding me.” He’s truly relieved. Having any version of Luo Binghe with him is good, no doubt, but his Luo Binghe is definitely the top choice.

“Just what is going on?”

Poor Liu Bro. Unfortunately, Shen Qingqiu himself isn’t sure yet, either.

“What indeed…”

… … …

As it turns out, Xinmo has to recharge for a bit before Luo Binghe can whisk them back to their own space-time. Or so Luo Binghe asserted. Anyhow, there’s no harm in wandering around in the meantime, casually rounding up the demon sowers for lack of a better way to pass the time. Liu Qingge doggedly follows behind them in the name of supervision, oozing a dark aura the entire way.

“L-luo-gongzi,” Qin Wanyue stutters as they cross paths with the Huanhua Palace party. “Why are you…?”

Luo Binghe dismisses her entirely, poor girl, so Shen Qingqiu does her the courtesy of nodding a greeting. “Lady Qin.”

Incredulously, she and her fellow disciples take in the way Luo Binghe sticks close to Shen Qingqiu’s side. Even Gongyi Xiao looks a little bug-eyed, though he also looks genuinely happy to see them back on “good terms”. What a truly great child.

Shen Qingqiu shoots Gongyi Xiao a reassuring smile a smile which prompts Luo Binghe to tug at his hand with a subtle pout. Qin Wanyue’s eyes widen as she notices Luo Binghe touch Shen Qingqiu’s back to nudge them along. Her mouth twists.

“What did qianbei do to place Luo-gongzi under your spell again so quickly?” she snaps. “Luo-gongzi, you should return with us to Huanhua Palace.”

“Yeah,” someone else yells. A chorus of support rises up from the group.

The corners of Luo Binghe’s mouth tilt up dangerously.

“Oh?” He turns — theatrically, in Shen Qingqiu’s opinion — to look “questioningly” at him. “Is that so? Has Shizun been enchanting me all along?”

Well, someone’s having fun, Shen Qingqiu scoffs in his head. Out loud, he returns in a deadpan, “What do you think?”

Somehow, some idiot in the crowd takes that as an admission.

“I knew it! Shen-qianbei, who knew the illustrious Xiuya Sword would resort to such insidious means! We cannot stand by while you take advantage of Luo-gongzi!”

Wow, Luo Binghe sure had them wrapped around his pinkie. It’s impressive, really.

“Everyone, that is highly inappropriate! Apologies, Shen-qianbei, for this manner of disrespect!” Gongyi Xiao is valiantly trying to perform crowd-control. “Watch out—!”

Someone has dared to raise their bow in Shen Qingqiu’s direction.

A cultivator’s instinct has Shen Qingqiu gathering spiritual energy in a split second, completely forgetting that he’s still tied down by the effects of Incurable poison. Oops. Well, not that he had any need to defend himself, as illustrated by the two forms that immediately step forth to shield him. Luo Binghe and Liu Qingge glare at each.

Triaging Liu Qingge as the lesser of evils, Luo Binghe looks away and decidedly locks his piercing red gaze at the crowd instead.

“Who was it that had the courage to raise a weapon against Shizun?”

The crowd shivers.

A stupidly brave soul pipes up, “Luo-g-gongzi, you m-mustn’t be deceived a-again!”

“Deceived? I have no such concern.” Luo Binghe smirks. “But either way, I dare say the matters between myself and my cultivation partner are no one’s business but our own.”

It is silent for a good long second.

“Cultivation—?! D-did I hear that right?”

“Excuse me?!”

Satisfied, Luo Binghe takes Shen Qingqiu’s hand again, swinging it a little as if to emphasize his point. Shen Qingqiu humours him if only because he has no energy right now to do otherwise. He swears he can see little pink flowers fluttering around Luo Binghe’s head. Another protagonist feature?

“Let’s go.”

“Sure, Shizun.”  

Liu Qingge doesn’t follow right away, standing still with his face lifted towards the heavens. Oof, that expression. He already heard the truth earlier, but apparently hearing it again is no less traumatizing.

As they walk away against the backdrop of confused yelling, Shen Qingqiu flexes his hand. “Ah, I haven’t felt this in such a long time.” His earlier attempt to forcibly summon spiritual energy has sparked some level of discomfort. “I cannot say I missed it.”

Luo Binghe leans in, eager and hopeful. A misbehaving hand slides a little too far down Shen Qingqiu’s back. His imaginary tail is definitely wagging right now.

“I can cure Shizun right now—”

“No need, thank you!”

Shen Qingqiu speeds up immediately. He can already feel his uncooperative ears beginning to burn.

“Shizun~”

“Shoo!”

Jiang Cheng looks at him like he’s gone mad, which doesn’t seem far from the truth. He throws a bundle of clothing at Wei Wuxian. “The hell are you on about? We’ve been here for a month already. Speaking of which, you might set a record for how soon the Old Man Lan is going to kick you out.”

As soon as Wei Wuxian finishes getting dressed, haphazard, Jiang Cheng grabs his arm and proceeds to drag him towards the door. “Come on. At least have the decency not to bring me down with you.”

“Where’s Lan Zhan?” The question bursts out of him.

“Lan Er? You better hope he doesn’t catch us, otherwise we might as well start packing now.”

It’s odd. It’s not uncommon that Wei Wuxian might spend weeks apart from his cultivation partner while one of them is attending to business. It’s not even the first time they’ve run into illusion-related troubles or the like. Right now, however, Lan Wangji’s absence is a vicious itch against his skin.

The first rule is always to observe, to assess the situation. But Wei Wuxian is slacking off a little. The path they’re running along is too familiar — Cloud Recesses has changed surprisingly little in more than thirty years, even after that dreadful fire. The Lan Shi comes into view and Wei Wuxian picks up his speed. Now he’s the one pulling Jiang Cheng behind him. What is he hoping to find exactly?

He bursts through the doors with complete lack of subtlety. Jiang Cheng pinches him hard but Wei Wuxian ignores him, searching through the sea of faces that have turned to face them. He meets golden eyes across the room.

“Wei Ying! Jiang Cheng!” On the raised dais, Lan Qiren’s beard is beginning to twitch in displeasure.

“Lan Zhan?”

Lan Wangji rises slowly from his seat in the front row. The uncertainty only lasts a split second before it melts away.

“Wangji!”

Lan Qiren splutters as Lan Wangji meets him halfway, colliding into a tight embrace.

The room explodes into incredulous whispers.

“Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian chuckles into his — younger! cute! — husband’s chest. Any remnants of unease evaporate into nothing.

“So you were here!”

“Mn. I am.”

… … …

— 原来你在这呀！

— 嗯。我在。

… … …

Jiang Cheng hisses something indecipherable as Wei Wuxian follows Lan Wangji back to his seat. In the front row. He smiles sweetly up at Lan Qiren who has gone rather purple.

Wei Wuxian is about to take pity on him and offer a word of explanation when Lan Wangji speaks up. “Shufu. I request an audience with you and Xiongzhang regarding some matters. However, please continue the lesson in the meantime.”

Wei Wuxian nudges an approval into Lan Wangji’s bicep and receives a gentle pat on the hand in return. He is blissfully aware of the eyes watching their every interaction.

Needless to say, no one pays much attention for the rest of the lesson. Certainly, Wei Wuxian doesn’t. The slightly outdated Lan curriculum has long been etched into Wei Wuxian’s memory — in fact, only a few years back, he’d been generously allowed to partake in its revision. Still a work in progress even now.

Despite Lan Wangji’s impeccable posture, Wei Wuxian knows he isn’t focused on the lesson either. Ha. As if anyone could understand the material better than Hanguang-Jun. Instead, his teenage husband is rubbing little circles onto his wrist under the table.

Perhaps horror is what keeps Lan Qiren from calling on either of them for the rest of the lecture. Or simply shock. The strange atmosphere persists right up till Lan Qiren’s uttered dismissal, at which point a flurry of activity rises up. The children are clearly torn between burning curiosity and fear of Lan Wangji’s icy aura. Hm, though it seems less frigid all of a sudden.

To no one’s surprise, Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang are the tributes sent to test the waters.

“Wei Wuxian, what the hell is wrong with you?”

In the background, Lan Qiren coughs out something that sounds like, “language”.

“Hm?” Wei Wuxian tilts his head. “What do you mean?”

Nie Huaisang holds Jiang Cheng back as he tries, “Uh, that is to say, Wei-xiong…you and Lan Er-gongzi…?”

“Oh.” Wei Wuxian pretends to consider this. He turns to Lan Wangji in askance.

“Mn. We are cultivation partners.”

The whispers behind them get exponentially louder. Jiang Cheng looks ready to pass out. Oops. He’d have to get in line though. Poor old Lan-xiansheng is already bracing himself against his low table, huffing and puffing. Wei Wuxian sends Lan Wangji to take care of their uncle with a raised eyebrow before turning back to his two young friends.

“Y-you—! Are you serious?” Jiang Cheng demands. “What the—?! Fuck! You can’t joke about things like this!”

Next to him, Nie Huaisang is mumbling, “Although it’s not entirely unexpected, it’s rather sudden. When will the wedding be? There’ll be a wedding, right?”

“I wouldn’t joke about this.” Wei Wuxian claps Jiang Cheng on the shoulder comfortingly. “Besides, you think Lan Zhan would go along with it?” Well. He would. But that’s for him to know and everyone else to discover.

Those words finally seem to hammer in the truth.

“But—! When did—? When?!”

“Is that important?”

“Yes! Wei-xiong, details would be much appreciated!”

Wei Wuxian stares flatly until Nie Huaisang backs away, pouting. He’s determined to get a cut of those novel profits this time — he wouldn’t be agreeing to any interviews until he wheedles a written contract out of the future clan leader.

“Anyway, I’ll fill you both in later,” Wei Wuxian assures them. “Right now, I’ve got to go speak to Shu—, er, Lan-xiansheng.”

“Okay,” Jiang Cheng acquiesces faintly. “Should I write to father? If this is…then the Jiang family needs to make preparations, right? Him and mother will need to meet with the Lan elders, too. I’m sure A-Jie will be ecstatic, at least…”

His grip on Jiang Cheng’s shoulder tightens momentarily. Ah…he didn’t think about that at all. It’s only Lan Wangji’s return that saves him from trying to answer around the lump in his throat.

“Wei Ying?”

“It’s nothing.” Wei Wuxian shakes his head. “Shall we go?”

“Mn.” Lan Wangji nods to the other two and they leave the commotion behind, heading in the Han Shi’s direction. Lan Qiren has already gone on ahead.

When they’re alone on the path, Lan Wangji pulls him close by the waist and lets him snuggle for a second. It’s a much needed warmth. Wei Wuxian vaguely revels in the fact that, as they are now, he’s no longer half a head shorter than his partner.

“Lan Zhan…”

“I know.”

“This might not be so bad.” Wei Wuxian laughs. “What an interesting day.”

… … … … … 

Before Shen Qingqiu could consider his next move, he heard a voice.

“Shizun…”

He couldn’t move in the first place but his muscles stiffened up even more, frozen.

“Shizun, don’t…”

Belatedly, Shen Qingqiu realized he could’ve continued to feign sleep. Dammit.

He stared into Luo Binghe’s dark eyes.

“…Shizun?”

He didn’t answer. If his throat had regained function, he wouldn’t know.

Luo Binghe raised himself up in a swift motion, accompanied by a flurry of black cloth. He loomed over Shen Qingqiu’s body, looking down at him from above and two hands clamped down on Shen Qingqiu’s shoulders, shaking him. Rather, Luo Binghe’s hands were shaking so hard that Shen Qingqiu trembled along with them.

The young man’s mouth opened. No words came out. Shen Qingqiu heard only erratic breaths as he held his own, waiting for his sentence to fall.

“S-shizun?”

It was strange to hear Luo Binghe stutter, raspy with sleep, and Shen Qingqiu’s panic was replaced with some other indescribable emotion.

In this moment, looking up into Luo Binghe’s wide eyes, Shen Qingqiu could almost pretend that this was the little white lamb that had not yet been dyed black by his own hand. He instinctively wanted to reach out and rub that soft head of hair, unable to reject any of his requests.

He subconsciously opened his mouth to answer Luo Binghe’s hesitant call. He stopped. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

What should he say?

“Hi, I’m not dead. How have you been?”

Or perhaps, “I’m sorry, who are you?”

He didn’t want to explain anything. He didn’t know how. He looked away.

Above him, Luo Binghe had stilled, his grip still unyielding. In the silence, he couldn’t resist taking a quick peek.

One peek was enough to trap him in that gaze again, unable to look away. Gone was the disbelief from earlier, replaced by something bright and scorching and intense, like looking into the sun. Shen Qingqiu could not identify it precisely but he was sure it was not hate. Was it anger?