Chapter Text
The sun is close to setting when the news reaches Shen Qingqiu’s ears. The Sect Master is gravely injured.
The slightest of tremors fill Shen Qingqiu’s heart as he abruptly turns away from his disciples diligently copying their scrolls. The messenger in front of him shivers, suddenly terrified.
“Is that so? This shidi will pay a visit to his shixiong,” he says smoothly, and leaves without another word.
Shen Qingqiu does not run, but it’s a near thing. He alights off his sword and is at Qian Cao Peak in record time, brandishing his fan like a weapon that sends the Peak disciples fleeing.
“Shen-shixiong,” Mu Qingfang entreats, blocking the door, but Shen Qingqiu fixes him with one steely gaze.
“Out of my way,” he barks, and the Qian Cao Peak Lord reluctantly steps aside to let him in.
The room is dimly lit, the candles all burning low. Shen Qingqiu flicks his wrist, expelling qi to fan the flames.
His stomach drops at the sight.
“Ah, Mu-shidi,” Yue Qingyuan says pleasantly. “Would you mind dimming light? It hurts my eyes.”
“You - ”
Yue Qingyuan’s expression changes slightly. “Qingqiu-shidi,” he says, tone changing. “How blessed I am to have you visit me.”
“Spare me your pleasantries,” he snaps. He clenches his fist. Zhangmen-shixiong has a boundless future ahead of him, a phoenix that has long soared above the clouds. Who could possibly hurt him like this?
Yue Qingyuan is attempting a smile. “Qingqiu-shidi must not worry -”
“Who would worry about you!” Shen Qingqiu snaps, angry.
“It is nothing,” Yue Qingyuan says, in a placating tone. “Mu-shidi has assured me of my full recovery.”
“And your eyes?” Shen Qingqiu asks savagely. “That too, can be recovered?”
There’s a soft exhale of breath. Yue Qingyuan only lifts his chin. “Qingqiu-shidi has always accused me of blind favoritism,” he says lightly. “Perhaps it is only fate to have it be proven so literally.”
Shen Qingqiu walks out of the room, fury building up in him in waves. It would do no good to scream at Yue Qingyuan; it won’t bring his eyes back.
He heads back to Qing Jing Peak in a foul mood.
Ever since Liu Qingge’s untimely death, the Peak Lords have been wary around him. As if Shen Qingqiu wants the rest of them dead. He grits his teeth. He hates this whole godforsaken mountain. Only terrible things have happened to him since he’s met Yue Qingyuan again.
Or perhaps his whole life is one whole tragedy after another.
He laughs a little to himself. Perhaps it is he who is a scourge to Yue Qingyuan’s life, the bane of his otherwise golden existence. This would not have happened to the esteemed Zhangmen-shixiong if he had not insisted in dragging Shen Jiu to Cang Qiong Mountain, in a poor attempt to rectify his mistakes in his youth.
Bitterly he curses Yue Qingyuan’s entire ancestry. Why is a man so driven to be so self-sacrificing, he thinks sourly, to the point he thinks nothing of himself? Has he not even given a shred of thought to his Sect and his own disciples?
How could he possibly lead the Sect without his eyes?
It had been a bad day. One of the runts in their group had been caught stealing - not Shen Jiu, of course, he could outrun any of those bastards at any time - and Yue Qi had gone to save him. Why Yue Qi bothered for the rest of them, he never knew. None of them were worth the effort.
“Watch out!” Shen Jiu had yelled, panic rising as Yue Qi had been chased by dogs. He’d had to go and beat them out with a stick, even though his hands had been bitten, just stop him from being trampled to death.
“Stupid, stupid!” Shen Jiu had raged. “Yue Qi is so stupid!” He would have kicked him, but Yue Qi was already crumpled on the ground. He pulled him and dragged him away to the sidestreet, where they could avoid discovery. “Why doesn’t he ever use his head?”
“I’ll be fine, Xiao Jiu,” Yue Qi had consoled him, even though his head was bleeding profusely.
“Since Qi-ge is so reckless all the time, I’ll just have to take care of you,” Shen Jiu had told him, folding his arms.
“Xiao Jiu is worried about me?” Yue Qi had told him with some delight.
Shen Jiu had jutted out his chin. “If not me, who’s going to care for you, huh?” No one else wanted them. They only had each other.
“All right,” Yue Qi had said softly. “I put myself in Xiao Jiu’s care then.”
He tries not to heave at the memory. Everything he’d done in his youth has always been for Yue Qi. He’d always thought that as long as his Qi-ge could be by his side, he would be fine; that he could believe in a better future, the one they had promised to have together. Isn’t that why he’s stayed here in Cang Qiong Mountain for so long? He’d hoped to prove that Yue Qingyuan’s affection for him was not some imagined sham of his childhood.
That he could cling to a person for so long regardless of any evidence...perhaps he is the only fool between the two of them.
Shen Qingqiu clenches his fists. He knows what Yue Qingyuan has endured bringing him here; that even now his fellow Peak Lords only acknowledge him because of Yue Qingyuan’s presence. He’s risen above his station by his own merit, has been acknowledged by his shizun to be worthy of taking the seat of the Qing Jing Peak Lord, but none of that would have been possible with Yue Qingyuan.
He doesn’t have to be beholden to him any longer. And besides, unlike Yue Qingyuan, Shen Qingqiu can keep his promises.
He returns to Qian Cao Peak that same evening. Mu Qingfang is poring over the medical texts, his mouth pursed. He raises his head at Shen Qingqiu’s entrance, one eyebrow raised. “Shen-shixiong,” he greets. “It’s late.”
Shen Qingqiu wastes no time. “What can be done for Yue Qingyuan’s condition?” he demands.
Mu Qingfang frowns. “His eyes have been gouged out. It isn’t exactly something that grows back.”
“I’m aware,” Shen Qingqiu spits out. “But something can be done, or you wouldn’t be staying up all night reading that.”
His shidi heaves a sigh. “There is a possibility of an eye transplant,” he says reluctantly. “But it is dangerous...as well as the need for a donor. The person has to be alive when it is done. Naturally, it would be difficult to find volunteers.”
Shen Qingqiu snorts. “I’m sure someone in Qiong Ding Peak will gladly give a limb for Zhangmen-shixiong; an eye shouldn’t be too much of an ask.”
“I would not dare ask from his disciples,” Mu Qingfang says severely. “And neither would Zhangmen-shixiong, unfortunately.” He straightens up. “My recommendation is to merely ease the pain.”
“And have our dear Sect Leader be blind for the rest of his days? What sort of healer are you?”
“A realistic one.” Mu Qingfang snaps. “Shen-shixiong, if there is nothing else?” It’s a dismissal. Shen Qingqiu swallows his rage.
“If all that is needed is a donor,” he says, “Then this shixiong willing.”
For a minute Mu Qingfang’s mouth falls open, clearly shocked. “...you don’t mean…”
He gives Mu Qingfang his fiercest glare. “Can you do it or not?”
Mu Qingfang goes silent.
“There is only 50% chance of success,” he says at last. “But, Shen-shixiong -”
“It doesn’t matter,” he says, cutting him off. “Do it.”
“The operation must be done immediately,” Mu Qingfang says haltingly. “While the nerves are still active. We will need to do it tonight, or the transplant will have higher chances of failure.”
Shen Qingqiu sneers. If Mu Qingfang really thinks he’s going to change his mind, then he has another thing coming. “I’ve organized my affairs,” he says. “Why else would I have come here for?”
Mu Qingfang’s gaze is intense and inscrutable. Finally, he puts his scrolls away and stands up. “Please follow me, Shen-shixiong.”
The Qian Cao Peak Lord leads him to an operating room. The equipment inside is unfamiliar to him, making him feel queasy at the sight of all the sharp implements. Shen Qingqiu lies down on the bed Mu Qingfang gestures to, taking deep breaths to calm down.
Mu Qingfang neutralizes him with a touch at his pressure points, making all of Shen Qingqiu’s limbs go slack.
“I will have to restrain you,” Mu Qingfang says anxiously. “It is a delicate procedure.” Shen Qingqiu only stiffly jerks his head in acknowledgement.
As he’s finished strapping him down to the bed, one last concern returns to Shen Qingqiu.
“Don’t tell Zhangmen-shixiong about this,” he says.
Mu Qingfang’s hand goes still. “Shen-shixiong...he will find out one way or another,” he says anxiously.
Shen Qingqiu snorts. “I don’t doubt. But at least save him the trouble of worrying,” he says sarcastically.
Mu Qingfang purses his lips, but says nothing else. Later, he injects a tranquilizer into Shen Qingqiu’s neck, and he loses his consciousness.
He doesn’t know how much time has passed when he wakes again. His head feels woozy. Shen Qingqiu tries to blink, but there is only darkness. Panic is the first thing he feels, and he struggles to move. But his arms are still restrained.
“Shen-shixiong!”
Shen Qingqiu turns his head to the sound of his voice. The memory of what he’s done hits him like a ton of bricks. Painfully, Shen Qingqiu swallows. “Mu-shidi,” he says, in a tone of forced calm. “How was it?”
“It is done,” Mu Qingfang says. Shen Qingqiu can feel his hands undoing the restraints.
“And?”
“It’s a success.”
Shen Qingqiu releases a breath he hadn’t realized he’s been holding. At least in this he has succeeded. For a moment he feels airheaded, overcome by the sudden relief and joy.
He sits up carefully once he’s released, Mu Qingfang helping him.
“Is Shen-shixiong all right?”
How can I be all right? Shen Qingqiu wants to yell. I’m blind!
The darkness feels suffocating. He takes another deep breath. He’s chosen this, he reminds himself sternly. He’s survived worse odds.
Between the two of them, Yue Qingyuan deserves the blessing of sight more.
“Does shixiong need assistance to return to his Peak?”
“This shixiong will manage,” Shen Qingqiu says coldly. “How is Yue Qingyuan?”
“He is resting,” Mu Qingfang says. “He should be fully recovered in three days.”
“Good,” Shen Qingqiu says.
Light is already rising when Shen Qingqiu returns to Qing Jing, letting the smell of the bamboo forests lead him back. He fumbles for a scroll and his brush, glad he’d left his table in order. Even without his eyesight, he can still find everything after groping around for a few minutes.
It would have been easier to find Ming Fan and to bark his orders, but he doesn’t want to alarm his disciples. The less people know, the better.
He writes one word. Seclusion.
Shen Qingqiu only hopes his calligraphy is still as flawless. He keeps the scroll on his table, takes his sword, and leaves Cang Qiong Mountain.
Truth be told, Shen Qingqiu hasn’t thought this far. Only; he couldn’t bear to see - hah! - Yue Qingyuan’s likely horrified look upon learning what Shen Qingqiu has done. Even worse is the reactions of the rest of the Peaks and the cultivation world. Shen Qingqiu, the cruel Qing Jing Peak Lord, who cares for no one but himself. What do they know?
The first thing to do is to put distance between himself and Cang Qiong Mountain.
He ties a bandage around his eyes, wondering if his empty eye sockets look as horrifying as Yue Qingyuan’s had. He’s still wearing the same inner robes from his operation; plain and flimsy. He supposes it will suit its purpose.
Shen Qingqiu wanders aimlessly for days. He initially travels by sword, but calculating the landing becomes difficult at times, so he goes on foot for the rest of the journey. Shen Qingqiu leaves Xiu Ya at his hilt, easier to draw in case he runs into trouble.
He can sense people avoiding him on the street, People keep a wide berth as he crosses the paths, the whispers reaching his ears.
“Oh - poor thing - ”
“Is he - ”
He must look like some kind of strange beggar. Shen Qingqiu pays them no mind, keeping his chin up as he walks on with decisive strides.
The thought of visiting the Warm Red Pavilion crosses his mind, but he doesn’t dare impose on their goodwill. Besides, he can’t stay there forever, and the women will be dismayed to see the fate that has befallen him.
No - Shen Qingqiu will bear this cross alone.
He avoids the large, crowded cities; where the noises and the smells confuse him. Instead, he finds himself in the countryside, his feet walking in the dusty cobblestones of smaller villages.
Occasionally people talk to him. He is fairly conspicuous, he supposes.
“Is daozhang traveling?” a feminine voice asks, lilt full of curiosity. Shen Qingqiu turns his face towards her direction, nodding curtly.
“Yes,” Shen Qingqiu responds shortly. It is better not to call attention to himself.
A kind woman gives him food on the street one time. Another one offers him a night of shelter at their barn. Shen Qingqiu offers his thanks in little ways, by leaving them simple talismans for protection or brewing cold medicine.
Of course, not everyone is as kind. More than once he’s scoffed at for his looks, and he’s left to seek refuge in uninhabitable places for sleep. Given that Shen Qingqiu has suffered worse in his youth, he won’t put much stock in human kindness.
The days turn to weeks, and soon, months. Shen Qingqiu has no destination, choosing random directions without any thought. There isn’t anything for him to see, both literally and figuratively.
Deep in his heart, he hopes Yue Qingyuan will look for him. But a particularly cold night where he huddles in a cave, wet and hungry, dispels any such thoughts. Shen Qingqiu feels disgusted at himself for still clinging to a pipe dream. Why would Zhangmen-shixiong even care for him? Likely he’s relieved that Shen Qingqiu has left out of his own volition. It would be much easier for him to manage the Sect without the Qing Jing Peak Lord berating him at every turn.
He scoffs to himself. He’s never needed Yue Qingyuan, he reminds himself fiercely. He can do whatever he wants.
Only, Shen Qingqiu isn’t quite sure what that is. He’s always longed for power, enough that no one can ever control him ever again. But he’d never reached those heights, hadn’t he? There are always people who will be stronger than him. Even his own erstwhile disciple had shown more promise than he ever had.
The memory of Luo Binghe makes him scowl. The little beast is likely dead in the Endless Abyss. It doesn’t make him feel any warm. He’d been a fool to let that fake sheep pull the wool over his eyes. A boy who showed no thirst for power would have never survived the harshness of the world.
Indeed, the more he travels, the more he’s disgusted. He can still hear the hungry moans of beggars on the street, the cries of shivering orphans, the helpless wails of the sick and dying. It’s the same, no matter where he goes. The human world is plagued with suffering, and very few are lucky to survive it.
He’d long forsaken this kind of life to cultivate into immortality. He’d told himself that he would never experience this kind of pain again.
Only, it seems he’s still that helpless brat, railing against his ugly destiny, unable to truly achieve enlightenment.
Shen Qingqiu only thinks, perhaps at least now, his face can look as ugly as his own heart.
One night, he arrives in a city. There’s the stench of demon presence everywhere. Shen Qingqiu frowns, gripping Xiu Ya tight.
The streets are empty. He can hear pained groaning from the corners.
Someone steps in front of his path, blocking him from walking any further. “Go away! Turn back and leave.”
Shen Qingqiu frowns. It’s a young boy, judging by his voice. “Where is this?”
“This is Jinlan City,” he says.
Jinlan City is a prosperous trade area. What could have happened here?
“There’s a plague,” the boy says. “Everyone is dying.”
“I’m a cultivator,” Shen Qingqiu says, allowing frost to color his tone.
The boy only snorts. “There’s been a dozen cultivators here already, and none of them have been helped.” He’s brandishing a weapon; a spear, by the feel of it. Shen Qingqiu bats it away impatiently.
“What kind of plague?”
“The kind that kills you.”
Shen Qingqiu would have rolled his eyes if he still had them. Talking to this kid is starting to get annoying.
There’s a sudden dip of temperature that grazes his skin. Shen Qingqiu raises his head.
“Step aside,” he says, and unsheathes Xiu Ya.
“What are you - ” The boy screams suddenly. “You killed him!”
Shen Qingqiu snorts, stepping forward to kick the corpse. “Look closer.”
The boy gasps. He must have gotten down on his knees and examined the body. Now he’s stepping back. “W-what is this…”
“It’s a demon,” he says. Even if he can’t see, the stench is unmistakable.
“A demon…”
“Likely the one causing the plague,” Shen Qingqiu says. “What does it look like?”
The boy describes the demon’s red skin. Shen Qingqiu frowns. This...it can only be sowers. But this kind of demonic creature should have long become extinct. And even then, this city is nowhere near the border...
The boy’s demeanor has completely changed now. “Daozhang, how did you know it was a demon?”
Truthfully, since his loss of eyesight, Shen Qingqiu’s other senses have sharpened considerably. And ever since his discovery of his disciple’s treachery and deception, he’d been researching more about demons and their qi. As a result, Xiu Ya is able to detect demonic energy almost instantly. “I told you, I’m a cultivator,” he says. “How long has this plague been going on?”
By the boy’s stilted explanation, the town has been suffering for almost a month now. That would mean there is more than one sower remaining in the area. That can’t mean well.
The boy tugs on his sleeve. “Daozhang...would you able to help my father?”
Shen Qingqiu hesitates. He’s not a healer, though he knows the basics. If the demon is as the boy has described, then it may be too late to help. “Take me to him.”
The boy leads him to his home. Shen Qingqiu can smell the whiff of metal and brimstone as they step in. It must be a weapons shop.
“Father!”
There’s some coughing. Shen Qingqiu steps forward and kneels down, reaching for the man’s arm until he finds the bumps on his skin.
“Father, this cultivator was able to kill the demon causing the plague!” the boy says.
“Indeed?” The man’s voice is weak but relieved. “Thank you for your work, daozhang...we have had so many cultivators here now, but the others have also fallen sick…”
He frowns as he inspects the wounds longer. The decay has begun, and will accelerate if left alone. “How long have you been infected?”
The man coughs. “The red spots appeared in my hand about a week ago, daozhang.”
It’s a miracle the man is still alive. Shen Qingqiu purses his lips. He’s no healer like Mu Qingfang. If his shidi were here, perhaps... “You should contact the Great Sects,” he says reluctantly. “This is a serious matter.”
The man nods, slowly rising up. “I will go to Zhao Hua Temple as soon as I can,” he says, with a tone of determination.
“But father…!”
“It’s all right, son,” the father says. “This one can still do something.”
Shen Qingqiu turns his head away from the affection, abruptly rising from his seat. “This will help alleviate the pain a little,” he says, taking out his pouch to hand over a small tincture.
“Thank you, daozhang,” the man says fervently. “May I know your name?”
Shen Qingqiu hesitates. If this man reaches out to the Great Sects...
“My name is Shen Jiu,” he says softly.
“Shen Jiu...this one thanks you very much for your care.” The man clutches his hands weakly. “We are in your debt.”
Shen Jiu only nods curtly, shaking him off. Afterwards he leaves the city as quickly as he can, eager to leave the hopeless place behind. Surely they’ll be able to reach out for help to the other Sects now. Shen Jiu doesn’t intend to be discovered there.
There’s some relief in shedding his name as a Peak Lord. Perhaps in time he can completely divorce himself from that person in Cang Qiong Mountain.
Shen Qingqiu is gone, along with his eyes. Shen Jiu will leave him behind.
He’s already in a town farther down south when he hears a voice yelling insistently for him.
“Daozhang!”
The voice is familiar. Shen Jiu slows his steps. “You?” he asks.
Small footsteps rush at him, before skidding to a stop before him. “Daozhang, I finally found you!” the boy says, panting.
“What are you doing here?” he asks curtly. Surely he’s put enough distance between him and Jinlan City.
The boy takes a deep breath before speaking again. “My father is dead,” he says. “He went to get help from the other Sects...and he never made it back.”
For a moment Shen Jiu feels sorry for him. He shakes it off. “And so?”
“So I...I want to be strong, like you!” the boy insists. “All those other cultivators weren’t even any help. It took them so long to get rid of the rest of the demons. There’s nothing left for me there. I want to follow you, daozhang!”
Shen Jiu resists the urge to groan. This is the last thing he needs. “Look, brat,” he says. He has no interest in sob stories. “I don’t have the time to take care of you.”
“I can take care of myself!” The boy returns.
“Then don’t bother me.” Shen Jiu quickens his steps, determined to leave as soon as he can.
But somehow the boy is able to chase him to two different towns, no matter how late at night Shen Jiu goes running. The boy is annoyingly persistent, like a gnat.
“Please, daozhang!” the boy says earnestly. “I’ll be helpful, I promise!”
Shen Jiu can feel a headache coming. “Stop following me,” he hisses. More than once he hears the townsfolk decry him for leaving his poor son alone. Shen Jiu wants to tell them all to mind their own business.
He’s taken to hiding in the forest, where he can at least have a moment of peace to himself. Still - no dice. He can hear a boy softly calling “daozhang?” in the distance. Has this brat somehow snuck a tracking talisman on him? How is he able to find him so quickly?
Shen Jiu is about to withdraw, to leap up on his sword and fly as far away as possible, when his senses prickle.
There’s a demon in this forest.
It’s hardly a matter for him to deal with - it’s no more than a mindless viper, a beast he could kill one-handed during the Immortal Alliance Conference. But to a mere boy who isn’t trained in cultivation, one bite and he’ll be dead.
Shen Jiu curses. What does it matter to him if the boy lives or dies? He’s just another unlucky one in this cruel universe. Shen Jiu doesn’t have to be responsible for him. The boy is an orphan, after all. No one will miss him, and no one will mourn him. He’ll be forgotten in a year or less.
Shen Jiu takes a deep breath, and spins on his heel.
He hears a sudden yell, and sends Xiu Ya in that direction.
“Daozhang?” the boy is stunned as he appears before him, having slayed the demon beast sneaking up on him.
“You little brat,” he snarls. “Didn’t your parents ever teach you not to go wandering around by yourself?”
He’s surprised when the boy suddenly launches at his waist, drawing his arms around him. “Daozhang, you came back for me!”
Shen Jiu sighs, pushing him off. “Get off.”
He starts heading towards the direction of the forest exit. When he hears nothing for a few moments, he stops and turns his head to look over his shoulder.
“Well?” Shen Jiu snaps. “Are you coming or not?”
The boy scurries after him, footsteps light.
--
The brat’s name is Yang Yixuan.
There are some perks to traveling with a companion, Shen Jiu is pleased to learn. The boy can be counted on for smaller chores, like gathering firewood and washing clothes. He can read the signs to where the next city is, and he can tell which plants are poisonous or not from a glance. Shen Jiu puts him to good use, ruthlessly snapping orders. Thankfully, boy is fairly obedient.
On the other hand, with his new baggage, Shen Jiu’s travel is slowed significantly. The boy doesn’t complain, but he can sense him tiring, and one evening, has to tend to the calluses on his feet.
They don’t have money to stay at inns. Shen Jiu exchanges his skills - ranging from basic medicine to capturing demons - for a night’s stay, mostly in empty barns or abandoned huts. It’s not very far from his own life when he’d roamed with Wu Yanzi, minus the rampant murder and thievery.
“Won’t daozhang teach me cultivation?” Yang Yixuan asks one day.
“No,” Shen Jiu replies curtly.
“Why not?”
“I can’t see you, then how can I tell you you’re doing it wrong?” Shen Jiu snaps.
“Can’t you just...feel it…?” Yang Yixuan asks hesitantly.
“If you want to learn, go to a big sect,” Shen Jiu says. “In fact, that would be good. How about I drop you off at Huan Hua Palace?”
“Those big sects are all full of self-important meanies,” Yang Yixuan complains. “I don’t trust them.”
Shen Jiu thinks - ah, if only he’d thought the same in his youth.
“Well, brat,” he says presently. “Then you can’t possibly learn cultivation.”
Yang Yixuan continues to pester him about it. Shen Jiu hits him on the head more than once. But the boy hardly seems deterred by physical violence. Shen Jiu despairs.
Hard-headed fools are the most difficult to deal with. The thought makes him wince as he recalls Liu Qingge, but he banishes that in his heart. There are few regrets in Shen Qingqiu’s heart, but failing to save him is one of them. Regardless of the enmity between them, Shen Qingqiu has never wanted him dead.
The resemblance makes him gentler on the brat more than he should. If this is his atonement for sins, then Shen Jiu will submit. Perhaps if he does good, he can still welcome a better life in the next.
Yang Yixuan’s stomach growls. Shen Jiu pauses mid-step.
“Hungry?” he asks, pausing.
“...yes,” the boy says reluctantly.
They’ve been on the road for a few days now, away from any city. Of course, Shen Jiu doesn’t need to eat, as he can practice inedia, but the boy is still young. He’d forgotten, and the boy hadn’t complained.
Reluctantly Shen Jiu pulls up his sleeves to prepare a meal that night. He peels the potatoes and dumps them into the pot, stirring occasionally. The smell of boiled potatoes wafts in the air.
“Oh!” Yang Yixuan perks up. “Dinner?”
“Yes,” Shen Jiu says, holding out his hand. “Get a bowl for yourself.”
He hears some chewing, and then...retching noises.
“No good?”
“Daozhang, this tastes horrible,” Yang Yixuan says. “How can you eat this?”
Shen Jiu frowns. Surely it can’t be that bad. He takes a spoonful and chews. It certainly isn’t the worst he’s eaten in his whole life. “It’s fine,” he says. “Don’t be picky.”
Yang Yixuan puts the bowl away. “I’m not hungry anymore.”
Shen Qingqiu grits his teeth. “If you don’t eat, you’ll get weak,” he snaps. “And if you die, I’m leaving you on the side of the road.”
“But it really tastes awful daozhang…” Yang Yixuan says piteously. He hears the boy take another spoonful. “I really can’t eat this…”
Shen Qingqiu sniffs. “Then you cook.”
“I don’t know how,” the boy complains.
“Then don’t complain about the food,” Shen Jiu retorts.
Despite this, the boy sticks around. Sometimes, he clings close to him in evenings, one hand reaching for him as they sleep. The hand is tiny but warm. Shen Jiu holds it fast, somewhat relieved despite himself. He’s always preferred solitude, but the months of having no one to interact with has left him surprisingly lonely. He’d never thought he could care for a mere child, but it isn’t as different from his life at the Peak.
Besides, he doesn’t have to teach Yang Yixuan anything. He would have been clearly unsuited for Qing Jing Peak, so loud and brash, but it makes him a useful travel companion regardless.
The boy is determined to be helpful, constantly fussing over Shen Jiu.
“I’m not an invalid,” Shen Jiu says, when Yang Yixuan insists on helping him bathe.
“Daozhang, you’re blind,” the boy points out.
“So? Plenty of people have eyes and never even use them,” he snaps.
The boy isn’t invasive, only inquisitive. He asks about Shen Jiu’s life, assuming him a rogue cultivator. Shen Jiu avoids most of his questions.
“I’m blind,” he responds curtly, when the boy asks him to describe the bigger cities. “I’ve never seen any of those places.”
“But how did you learn cultivation?”
Shen Jiu sighs. The brat never runs out of things to ask.
They’re on the road most of the time. Shen Jiu doesn’t feel comfortable staying in one place for too long, knowing people will eventually become suspicious if they overstay their welcome.
“Oh! There’s a town ahead!” Yang Yixuan says excitedly. “We can get some food!”
“If you complain about my food one more time, brat,” Shen Jiu threatens, but he lets the boy drag him to the sounds of lively human chatter.
They find an inn, but the proprietor proposes such a ridiculous price that Shen Jiu knows instantly that he’s not interested in hosting them. Shen Jiu grits his teeth. This is why he’d always preferred to be dressed his best; otherwise people will turn up their nose at them as quickly as they can.
“Never mind,” Shen Jiu says shortly. “Brat, lead me to the market.” Yang Yixuan does what he’s told, and Shen Jiu purchases some vegetables and meat with some help from the boy. He’s not interested in being swindled just because he can’t see.
As they cradle the food in a small bag, he hears a commotion farther down the street. Shen Jiu is tempted to cross to the other side to avoid it, but Yang Yixuan tugs at him. “Daozhang, there’s a woman crying…”
True enough, the wailing is distinct. “Isn’t there anyone who can help?” the woman sobs.
“Madam, so many cultivators have already come to help your daughter and failed,” a man’s voice replies. “I think it’s best now to give her up for dead.”
Shen Jiu walks up to them. “What’s the matter?”
“Daozhang!” The woman says tearfully. “Please, you must help my daughter recover!” She grips at his sleeves, clenching tight.
“He doesn’t look like much,” the man says derisively. “Madam, I don’t think you should be trusting anyone off the street. Shams nowadays are a dime a dozen.”
Shen Jiu feels his eyelid twitch.
Yang Yixuan stamps his feet. “How dare you! Daozhang was able to kill the demons in my city! He’s the strongest person I know!”
Some people murmur at that.
Shen Jiu sighs. “Bring me to her,” he says imperiously. “I will look into your daughter’s condition.”
They’re ushered into a house down the street, clearly well-maintained by the number of servants that rush to greet them. Their patron leads them to a room, the incense so strong that Shen Jiu lifts up his sleeve.
Shen Jiu can make out soft breathing. He steps forward carefully, until he can hear the rustle of fabric.
“She came home after being in the capital for a few years and fell into sickness,” the mother sobs. “How could this happen now? A-Yi, my poor A-Yi!”
The young woman is still as stone. Shen Jiu gropes for her wrist, eventually finding it. Her body temperature is down; if not for her breathing, Shen Jiu would have assumed her dead.
“Has she done anything particular recently?” he asks.
The mother shakes her head. “She’s been staying at home. I can’t think of what’s wrong with her…”
Shen Jiu frowns, examining the young lady’s meridians more. It’s faint, but he can make out the inklings of poison. It’s not particularly fatal, and can survive in the system for a few years. However, it’s kept her in a comatose state.
“How long has she been like this?”
“Nearly three weeks now,” the mother says. “I’ve had many come and look at her, and no one can discern what’s wrong…”
Shen Jiu feels skeptical. There’s something missing from this story, but it looks like he’s not getting any more information.
“We will see what we can do,” he says.
The woman is appropriately grateful. “Perhaps daozhang and his son would like to stay at our place,” she invites. “We will have a room made.”
Normally, Shen Jiu would agree. However, knowing that the daughter is in dire straits and could have contracted the poison from within the house means the perpetrator has access inside. So he lies, “we have made arrangements already elsewhere.” Saying so, he leaves the room to find Yang Yixuan, who it seems is being coddled by some of the attendants. Seeing Shen Jiu, he immediately perks up, running over to him.
“Daozhang! How was it?”
Shen Jiu shakes his head. “The young miss has a condition, but it’s not serious. We will look into brewing an antidote. Come along, brat.”
“You’re leaving, daozhang?” one of the attendants ask doubtfully.
“Yes,” Shen Jiu replies.
“The women were saying we were going to stay there,” Yang Yixuan says as they leave the mansion.
“We can rest elsewhere,” Shen Jiu says. “Didn’t you say we passed an abandoned hut just outside the town?”
“That place looks gross,” Yang Yixuan says.
Shen Jiu raps him on the head. “Beggars can’t be choosers,” he says coldly. “Lead the way.”
The place is indeed dusty, and the only thing they have to lie on is some hay. Shen Jiu manages to silence some of Yang Yixuan’s muttering with some dinner - peeled fruit, generously given by the madam of the house after he’d declined her offer for lodging - and lets him squeeze beside him in their makeshift bed. Shen Jiu does his best to get comfortable. At least the brat is warm.
The whole area is eerily quiet at night. Shen Jiu’s skin prickles.
“Daozhang?” Yang Yixuan’s voice is tiny in his ear. “Will the miss recover?”
“We’ll see,” he says. “Get some rest.”
The next day, Shen Jiu gathers ingredients for an antidote with Yang Yixuan. There’s a wild forest right next to the town. However, even as they walk around, he can’t hear any noises of wild animals.
His intuition tells him that this place is dangerous. “Stay close to me,” he murmurs to Yang Yixuan.
The boy helps him to look for what he’s looking for, but by mid-afternoon they’re still missing one last thing - the Bleeding Heart Peony, a cure-all for most common poisons. The flower has no odor, making it difficult for Shen Jiu to detect. He sighs in frustration.
“It’s not this one, daozhang?” Yang Yixuan must have brought him a dozen red flowers already, but with each description, Shen Jiu knows it isn’t the right one.
“No,” he says coldly. “Let’s head back. It’s getting late.”
The walk back to their lodgings is quiet. Yang Yixuan drags his feet. Shen Jiu sighs loudly.
“Not everyone can be saved,” he says to Yang Yixuan.
“But…”
“One must know their limits,” Shen Jiu says, and leaves it at that. He makes an easy stew for the boy to eat, before settling down for meditation. He can seem to shake off that sense of unease ever since they’ve arrived.
“Yixuan, what did you say the town’s name is?” he asks later in the evening. The boy can’t read, but he knows how to ask the townsfolk around for important information.
Yang Yixuan obediently replies. Afterwards, “Why do you ask, daozhang?”
Shen Jiu puts his cup down. This place is near the boundary to the demon realm. No wonder the silence in the forest is so eerie. Perhaps that young woman has gotten tangled up with demons.
“Stay close to me tonight,” he warns. He puts up warding talismans around the hut before they retire for the evening. “And don’t go to the forest alone.”
The next morning, Shen Jiu attempts meditation again. The boy had not been in the room when he’d woken up, but Shen Jiu isn’t concerned. Yixuan has a habit of circling around whenever they arrive in a new place, curious to see more of its inhabitants and their area. Shen Jiu has given him a flare that he can send out if he’s in trouble, one with a loud enough sound that Shen Jiu can hear. Once he’s back, they can proceed to the town and see the madam.
However, when Yang Yixuan returns, he isn’t alone.
“Daozhang, daozhang!” Yang Yixuan says excitedly. Shen Jiu raises his head. There’s an extra pair of footsteps behind the boy, making him stiffen.
“What is it, brat?” he says carefully, slowly rising.
But there’s not a trace of fear in Yang Yixuan’s movements. Instead, he drags the stranger all the way to Shen Jiu’s space, close enough to Shen Jiu is tempted to take half a step back.
“Daozhang, this gege saved me,” he says, adoration clear in his tone. “I was in the forest earlier, and then this giant beast showed up! I was so scared, but gege arrived and defeated it with no problem!”
“It was no trouble,” a man’s deep voice says. Shen Jiu tenses. The cadence of his tone is familiar.
“We have troubled you,” he says politely. “Oi, brat, come here.” He pats the boy gently, checking for injuries. Fortunately, there are none. He lets out a sigh of relief, before annoyance builds up again.
“Ow!” Yang Yixuan bristles as he twists his ear. “Daozhang!”
“I told you not to go running off in the forest,” he scolds. This boy is truly lucky. That beast he’s talking about might as well be a dangerous demon.
“But daozhang said we needed to find the red flower for the lady…” Yang Yixuan’s voice trembles. “I just wanted to help…”
Shen Jiu feels a stab of annoyance.
“Daozhang, don’t scold xiandi anymore,” the man adds in a cajoling tone.
Shen Jiu glares in his direction. The audacity of this man to interfere with his affairs. He’s about to tell him off when a metallic scent wafts into his nose.
He frowns.
“Are you injured?”
“Daozhang is very perceptive,” the stranger replies, after a pause.
“Gege!” Yang Yixuan cries out. “Your arm - !”
Shen Jiu holds out his hand imperiously. Eventually the man puts his wrist on his palm, letting Shen Jiu run his fingers upwards. The gash is long, and the wound is deep. His frown darkens.
“Come here.”
He leads the man inside the small hut, making him sit at the edge of his makeshift bed. Shen Jiu rummages through his pouch of belongings until his fingers close around a familiar vial.
“Daozhang doesn’t need to - ” Shen Jiu hushes him with a click of his tongue.
“Be quiet,” he snaps. “Walking around with an injury like this - won’t you just attract more demons?” He cleans the injury with practiced ease before rubbing the ointment on his skin. Afterwards, he rips out a portion of his sleeve to use as a bandage. He’s no healer like Mu Qingfang, but he did spend his teenage years wandering with a murderous cultivator. Shen Jiu knows how to deal with these kinds of injuries.
There’s a strange hitch in the man’s voice. “Thank you to daozhang for his care.”
He huffs. “It’s fine. You saved Yang Yixuan, after all.” These kind-hearted types of people, willing to get hurt for complete strangers...Shen Jiu still has to make up his mind if he dislikes them or not. The only thing he knows for sure is that he will never be like them at all.
“Next time,” he adds, “look after yourself also.”
“I will remember,” the man says, with a hint of amusement.
“Does daozhang and xiandi live here alone?” is what the man asks next.
Shen Jiu stiffens at the comment. It’s innocuous, but he doesn’t take kindly to the judgment. “It’s only temporary,” he snaps. “We are merely traveling along.”
“I see.” The man pauses. “This kind of place is unsuited for someone of daozhang’s stature.”
What stature? Shen Jiu lifts his chin. “I am only a rogue cultivator traveling around,” he says, ignoring the flattery. “And that brat has decided to follow me around.”
The man says nothing in reply for a while. Shen Jiu finishes up bandaging his arm, tying it quickly. “All right?”
“Yes,” the man says. He slowly rises up from his knees. Shen Jiu follows suit. Now that the stranger is closer, Shen Jiu can tell he’s a few inches taller than him. He tilts his face upwards.
“Then, this boy is your disciple?” The man asks.
Shen Jiu snorts. “Do I look like a master to you?”
“Pardon my ignorance,” the man says gently. “Daozhang has a sophisticated air.”
If Shen Jiu still had his eyes, he would have rolled them. Clearly the man is capable of pouring honey with his every word.
He walks out of the hut, the stranger close at his heels.
“Gege!” Yang Yixuan’s tone is bright. “Are you okay? Ah - daozhang can heal anything,” he boasts. “He was able to help the people in my city when they were infected with a plague!”
Shen Jiu feels momentary embarrassment at the praise. Regardless of Yang Yixuan’s ignorance, his faith in Shen Jiu feels misplaced.
“Don’t go saying unnecessary things,” he snaps.
“But it’s true, daozhang…” the boy whines.
Shen Jiu just sighs. “Where’s the flower you got?” If Yang Yixuan has gone risking his life for it, he supposes it would be waste not to make the antidote.
Yang Yixuan thrusts something in his hands. “It’s red and heart-shaped, just like you described,” he says. “I found it near the caves.”
Shen Jiu feels the slightest hint of alarm. If his instincts are right, those caves would lead straight into the demon realm. The brat is very lucky a demon hadn’t come out and plucked him for eating.
“Don’t go rushing into that place by yourself again,” Shen Jiu tells him angrily. It’s not worth dying for, to cure some woman they don’t even know.
“Daozhang is right,” the man says suddenly. “The forest is very dangerous. You must keep away from there in the future.”
“Okay, gege,” the boy says obediently.
Shen Jiu just snorts, and heads to the makeshift table he’d spread out by the campfire, letting his knees bump into the wood. The Bleeding Heart Peony’s petals have to be crushed before being mixed with the other ingredients.
“Can this one assist?”
Shen Jiu smooths his irritation. He’s never felt comfortable around other men, and while this person doesn’t feel like a threat, Shen Jiu is wary nonetheless.
“If gongzi is skilled at brewing antidotes,” he says, “then he may lend me a hand.”
Shen Jiu gives his instructions, the man follows them to the letter. He can hear Yang Yixuan chattering excitedly to the other man as he works. Shen Jiu suppresses his annoyance. Kids these days have no loyalty.
A shichen later, he sniffs at the concoction. It certainly smells correct.
“What does daozhang need this for?” the stranger asks, as they bottle the liquid.
“Some ailing young lady,” Shen Jiu says dismissively, “in exchange for some food. Come along, brat. Let’s get this to her before night falls.”
To his surprise, the stranger follows them all the way to the town.
There is something strange about this place,” the man muses. “I only want to ensure daozhang and xiandi’s safety.”
He purses his lips. He’s thought as much. Still, “We’re perfectly capable,” he says acidly. “Or do you not believe me because I’m blind?”
He hears the lightest of chuckles from the man. “I would never doubt daozhang’s abilities,” he says, and it sounds strangely sincere. Shen Jiu doesn’t trust it. “I only wish to assist him.”
Shen Jiu shakes his head and picks up the pace. If this man thinks he can get some kind of reward by sticking with them, he’s sorely mistaken. Shen Jiu doesn’t trade in money. He’ll see that soon enough.
They arrive at the gate of the mansion. The whole town is still eerily quiet, to Shen Jiu’s consternation. It’s hardly late afternoon, but the whole place seems deserted, just like the forest. Shen Jiu doesn’t like it.
“Stay here,” he says abruptly. “We don’t want to alarm the madam by your presence.”
The stranger submits with no complaint. “I will wait here with xiandi.”
Shen Jiu steps back into the mansion. One of the attendants arrives to greet him. “Daozhang,” she says anxiously. “You’ve returned! Have you found a cure for the young miss?”
He nods. “I would like to visit the patient,” he says. “Lead me to her.”
There’s a moment of hesitation. “Our madam is not yet home, daozhang.”
Shen Jiu clicks his tongue. “Surely we cannot waste time,” he says curtly. “Every second the young miss balances on the precipice.”
“O-of course," the attendant says. She finally lets him inside. Shen Jiu follows her footsteps, conscious of the lack of other attendants. The change in the atmosphere rings warning bells in his head.
Once he arrives in the room, he’s assaulted by the smell of the incense. It seems even stronger now. “You may leave us,” he says abruptly, and he waits for the sound of the door closing before kneeling by the young woman’s bed.
He takes out the cure-all and pours it down her throat. For a moment, there’s nothing.
Then the young woman screams, shrill and loud. Shen Jiu covers his ears, his whole body tingling.
The vase in the room breaks into pieces. Shen Jiu falls to his feet, alarmed. What’s this reaction? The antidote should have worked - unless the man had brewed it incorrectly? But he’d inspected it and found nothing wrong -
“Daozhang!” The stranger has burst into the room, hauling him up. Shen Jiu leans into him, grateful for his solid bulk. His ears won’t stop ringing, making him lose his balance.
“That woman is possessed,” the stranger says. “Daozhang, be careful.”
It’s a fair assessment. Still, Shen Jiu can sense the traces of the young woman still. The demon hasn’t fully controlled her body. He just needs to draw it out and exorcise it.
A sudden wave of demonic qi suddenly envelops the room. Shen Jiu tenses. It’s coming from outside.
Quickly he wrenches himself out of the man’s grip. “Stand back,” he warns the man, and draws Xiu Ya. He hears the man exhale softly.
The door slams open. Shen Jiu doesn’t waste any time - he sends his sword to strike straight at the demon. The demonic qi explodes throughout the room. It’s so potent, Shen Jiu nearly chokes in it. He raises one hand up, using his own qi to dispel it.
A faint cackle echoes in the room. Ever since he’s lost his eyesight, his hearing has become much sharper. Immediately he manipulates Xiu Ya in that direction. Instantly the demonic qi dissipates.
He can hear someone coughing. “M-mother…”
Shen Jiu lets out a sigh of relief. The incense has spilled over in the ensuing attack. That must have broken the hold it had over the young woman. He walks over to her.
The woman’s voice is faint. “Who are you?”
“I’m here to help,” he says shortly. He examines her wrist. The concoction has worked; the poison is gone. “Miss, I wanted to ask, have you done anything strange since you’ve come home? You were poisoned.”
The lady’s frame seems to tremble.
“My mother,” she says. “Daozhang...you must…”
“What do you mean?”
“She…” the daughter hesitates. “She’s been acting strange since I’ve arrived home…” Then she lets out of a soft gasp. “What happened to Yu Ren?”
“Who?” Shen Jiu looks back.
“There’s a body on the doorway, daozhang,” the man says gravely. “She’s dead.”
“No - ” the young woman says weakly. “She’s served in our house for decades...how could this have happened…”
Shen Jiu’s face pales. The lack of servants, the missing mother, the poisoned daughter...it’s all falling into place. “Where is Yixuan?” he demands abruptly.
“He’s outside the mansion,” the man replies. “I told him to stay outside.”
Shen Jiu hopes the boy has listened. “I need you to find him and make sure he’s safe,” he says. “Take this young lady also.”
“But what about you, daozhang?”
“I’m getting rid of this filth,” he says coldly.
He leaps up on his sword and follows the faint trail of demonic energy. How could he not have sensed it? Now that he’s aware, he can recognize the distinct signature of a Skinner demon. They must have been luring other cultivators under the guise of the sick daughter. Any cultivator would have known instantly if she’d been skinned, so they’d kept her alive but unconscious. And each time they were offered to stay the night, they would have been disposed of.
Shen Jiu’s skin crawls. He could have almost let Yixuan stay in this demon’s nest. He might have survived, but the boy would have certainly been skinned to die.
The moment he steps out into the courtyard, he’s attacked by demons.
Resentful energy swarms all over him. Xiu Ya slices through the air, picking them off one by one. Their screeches echo in his ears as each demon falls to his sword.
The whole mansion must be full of demons. Shen Jiu grits his teeth. It’s been a trap all along.
“Daozhang! Please! Spare me,” one of them begs. “I’m not a demon!”
Shen Jiu hesitates. It’s his mistake. The person before him collapses, blood spilling over his robes.
“Too kind-hearted, daozhang.” It’s the voice of the female master, cold and cruel. “You shouldn’t have spared her life.”
“You,” Shen Jiu growls.
“Who would have thought a proper cultivator would be here in this stupid little place?” the mother says. “I thought living off those shams would be good enough. But once I get your skin, I’ll be stronger than ever.”
Shen Jiu leaps up to launch at her, but the demon is quick to avoid his steel. At the same time, more of her minions keep rushing at him, keeping him at bay. She must have brought in many of her fellow demons, and feasted on the whole town. Shen Jiu scowls. Disgusting.
The demon is laughing now. “I was fortunate that one of my underlings alerted me of your return while I was gone,” she says. “We’ll keep your little boy as bait, while wearing your pretty face.”
“I’d like to see you try,” Shen Jiu snarls.
There’s a strange smell permeating the air. It’s the same incense from the daughter’s room, only stronger. Shen Jiu lifts up his sleeve. This must be the same poison the woman had used on her own daughter.
No - the mother must have been long gone. This is only a demon wearing her skin.
“Hah! Daozhang, you can’t see - ” she taunts. “- and soon you won’t be able to sense anything else, either!”
Shen Jiu aims at her again, when suddenly, everything goes silent. Unnerved, he lands back on his feet.
He jerks his head. Nothing. Panic creeps up his spine. Has he lost his hearing as well?
To test, he lifts his foot and presses hard on the ground. No sound.
He grits his teeth. That gas must have done something to dull his hearing.
No matter. Shen Jiu takes a deep breath, holding Xiu Ya steady. He still has three more. And - even if they take away everything from him - even if all Shen Jiu can do is lash out in helplessness - he won’t let himself be beaten by this demon scum.
He stays still, waiting until he feels the flash of killing intent. Shen Jiu releases a sword glare, wielding Xiu Ya with precision. The killing intent vanishes. Still, it’s too little to rely on - he doesn’t know how many more demons are left. Shen Jiu curses, circling warily. He’s far too handicapped for this situation.
He pulls up his qi, drawing on his reserves. He hasn’t fought so intently since leaving Cang Qiong Mountain. He releases a stream of his energy in every direction, aiming at even the slightest hint of demonic energy.
His neck prickles. Out of reflex he dodges an aim from behind, feeling a sudden pain in his ribs. He twists Xiu Ya, but it’s too late. Shen Jiu stumbles, balance broken. The demonic energy swoops towards him, too close to be avoided.
Out of nowhere a warm hand grips him on the shoulder, pressing him close to a firm body. Shen Jiu gasps, struggling, until fingers touch his palm and signs a word on his skin. Shen Jiu relaxes.
It must be that man.
The killing intent has now intensified, surrounding them in all sides, but the man doesn’t even tremble. From what Shen Jiu can tell, his movements are swift and calculated, without even a moment’s hesitation. The demonic energy slowly vanishes one by one.
Shen Jiu is stunned. Who is this man?
Eventually, Shen Jiu is lowered back to the ground, his feet touching the smoothness of a wooden platform, one hand gently guiding him from the waist.
Daozhang, the man signs again on his palm. The demons have been dealt with. Are you all right?
Shen Jiu nods as a reply. He feels another hand reach out to touch him - smaller and thinner. It must be Yang Yixuan. He’s surprised when the hand clutches tight on his own.
This one will brew the antidote.
“Do you know how?” Shen Jiu asks out loud. There’s a warm huff of breath; the man is much closer than Shen Jiu has realized. He pulls back, flustered.
The small hand squeezes against his. Shen Jiu lets it lead him down to sit, crossing his legs. With two of his senses impaired, Shen Jiu decides to meditate instead, taking long controlled breaths.
Half a shichen later, a warm cup is pressed into his hands. Shen Jiu raises it to his nose, sniffing. It certainly has the familiar herbal scent he’s come to recognize. He takes a deep breath before drinking it down in one go.
“Daozhang!” Shen Jiu almost feels relieved to hear Yang Yixuan’s voice again. He turns his head to the direction of his voice, and gets an armful of a blubbering brat in reply.
“I was so worried!” he cries. “You weren’t responding when we called out to you, and then gege said you were in danger and he ran up to join you while you were fighting.”
“I’m fine,” Shen Jiu reassures him, and he reaches up to pat him on the head. “Don’t cry, it’s unbecoming of a man.”
Yang Yixuan sniffs. “Daozhang is so strong…”
“Has the whole place been secured?” he asks the man.
“Yes,” he says. “The rest of the town is unaffected. The daughter has roused the others in the household who has not been skinned. Thanks to daozhang’s hard work, all the demons have been eliminated.”
He lets out a sigh of relief. Good.
“Is daozhang all right?”
“I am.” Shen Jiu pauses. “Thanks to gongzi’s assistance,” he says stiffly, and he gets on his knees to bow.
“Daozhang!” The man says quickly, pulling him up. “There is no need.”
He huffs. This person is really too humble. “Gongzi has saved my life, am I not allowed to express my heartfelt thanks?” he asks, a touch sarcastic.
“This one is only repaying his debt,” the man says softly.
“How can that be so. I have done nothing for you,” Shen Jiu points out.
“On the contrary,” the man says, his voice strange. “You have shown me kindness beyond this one could have ever hoped for in this lifetime.”
------
Luo Binghe can’t help but stare at the man in front of him. He’s dreamt of him for so many days in the Endless Abyss, only thinking of how he could tear him down from his lofty pedestal and drag him down the mud, dreaming of his humiliation at Luo Binghe’s own hands.
But now, seeing him in threadbare robes and a white cloth tied over his eyes, without even a hair crown to pin up his hair, he can’t help but swallow the lump in his throat. Isn’t Shen Qingqiu too pitiful in this state? What more can Luo Binghe do to him?
Shen Qingqiu lifts his chin, unaware of Luo Binghe’s thoughts. “Your hand.”
Luo Binghe reluctantly puts his wrist in Shen Qingqiu’s open palm. For a moment, he is terrified that Shen Qingqiu will divine who he is from the mere touch; will recognize his qi and reveal it to be a ruse to capture him, but he does nothing of the sort. Instead, he presses his fingers carefully, letting his energy flow into him. The warmth is what surprises Luo Binghe the most.
He’d always thought Shen Qingqiu’s qi would feel as cold and prickly as the man himself, but instead he can feel his meridians tingle at the touch.
The touch is gone too soon. Luo Binghe barely has a moment to bemoan the loss when Shen Qingqiu’s hand brushes upwards, to the large gash on his forearm. His fingers are stained with blood as they pull away.
He can heal this kind of injury fast enough - only, he’d still been groggy from getting out of the Endless Abyss. Luo Binghe had known the boundary would lead somewhere to Huan Hua Palace’s territory, but who could have known it would lead him straight to the person he’d wanted to take his revenge on?
He watches with conflicting emotions as Shen Qingqiu wraps the bandage around his arm, clinical in his ministrations. The movement is quick, practiced. If Luo Binghe were not seeing him at the moment, he would have argued that it would be impossible this man could not see.
Yet, Shen Qingqiu gropes for the washbasin beside him, splashing water as he dunks the washcloth. It’s so incongruent to the graceful man he knows that Luo Binghe can only stare, stunned.
It would be so easy to reach over and snap his neck.
“You should be more careful next time,” Shen Qingqiu says, unaware of Luo Binghe’s thoughts as he wipes over the wound. “You could have lost your arm, with the severity of your wound.”
“Many thanks to daozhang,” he murmurs, voice pitched deliberately low. Shen Qingqiu only nods.
Can it be possible that Shen Qingqiu does not recognize him at all? That his sight is really gone?
The fact is solidified after their little skirmish with the skinner demons. Shen Qingqiu even thanks him, getting down on his knees, a sight that leaves Luo Binghe both breathless and petrified. To think the man who had kicked him down to almost certain doom would be so grateful for such a little thing…
He’d pulled him close; had spoken to him. Shen Qingqiu had not flinched away, or called him any of those cruel names. In fact, he’d thanked him earnestly, with words so kind Luo Binghe thought he’d hack blood right there and then. Pigs would sooner fly than Shen Qingqiu expressing an earnest emotion.
But he’d wielded Xiu Ya. Luo Binghe had doubted until that moment, but he cannot deny that sword to be anything other than Shen Qingqiu’s.
This person...whether he is also an impostor, or truly his shizun has had a change of heart, Luo Binghe must know.
He won’t ever let this man out of his sight.