Work Text:
He let go of Luo Binghe.
Shen Qingqiu’s golden core shattered and, at his side, Xiu Ya shattered with it. His spiritual veins withered and his body gave up, one organ at a time. He coughed and blood filled his mouth. This time, he couldn't swallow. It spilled and stained his chin red.
He felt light for the first time in years.
It was done. Binghe's suffering was over and Shen Qingqiu had repented for what he had done. He was finally free of guilt, as much as he would ever be.
Even though his eyes were still stinging, he smiled. “Everything that’s happened in the past,” he said, and his voice was buoyant with relief, “I repay it all to you today.”
Then, Shen Qingqiu took a final step and toppled off the roof.
He was gone before he ever hit the ground.
There was darkness. It was tinted red with animal desperation and Shen Qingqiu surged up, tried to breathe, tried to orient himself. But it only lasted one short moment and then oblivion closed in on him again.
The next time he woke, there was foreign spiritual energy flowing through him and, slowly, gradually, he realized that something must have gone wrong. If there was foreign qi in him, that meant someone had found him. But no one should have been able to find the mushroom body. The only one who knew where it was buried was Shang Qinghua and this didn’t feel like…
He didn’t finish the thought before exhaustion overcame him and he fell back asleep.
When he resurfaced again, his head was clearer. The spiritual energy was moving through him again and he finally remembered where he had felt it before.
It was Luo Binghe’s.
Which meant that his plan had failed. Regardless of whether he was in the mushroom body or his original one; if Luo Binghe was there, then the whole thing had been for nothing. He knew Shen Qingqiu hadn’t truly died for him.
His repentance was worthless, in the end.
The knowledge felt like a knife in his chest. Even if he had been able to open his eyes, he wouldn’t. His future didn’t seem worth looking at.
Whatever body he was in, he was never able to stay awake for too long. Awareness came in short bursts and complete darkness. Shen Qingqiu knew that time was passing, but there was no proof except for the fact that he kept alternating between consciousness and oblivion.
Quietly, anxiously, he wondered if he would ever truly wake up again. It was easy to prefer death over facing Luo Binghe when death was quick and relatively painless. But this torturous state of in-between, of being cut off from the world? The prospect of being held in this state forever was more frightening than anything Luo Binghe could do to him.
Then, his hearing returned.
At first, all he could hear were muffled sounds but still, Shen Qingqiu could have cried with joy.
He was getting better.
His senses returned slowly, one after the other. One time, there was a fleeting touch against his hand. Another time, he was lifted for a moment, he heard people talking, and even the impenetrable darkness vanished as he started to see the light through his eyelids.
As he recovered, he grew more certain that it was indeed Luo Binghe who was healing him. And he wasn’t only there sometimes, no. His former disciple seemed to be at his side every time Shen Qingqiu woke up, quietly talking or touching him.
Eventually, he started to wonder: didn’t Luo Binghe have anything better to do? Didn’t he have realms to conquer and wives to collect? Even if he was still angry, surely someone else could make sure that Shen Qingqiu didn’t die. But it wasn’t like he could open his eyes and tell Luo Binghe that. He was still unable to move besides the occasional twitch of his fingers.
As he managed to stay awake for longer periods of time, the whole thing seemed increasingly strange to him. By now, it was becoming clear that Shen Qingqiu was paralyzed. But Luo Binghe still cared for him carefully and gently, never getting impatient or angry. His voice was nothing but a muffled background noise, none of his words discernable, but his tone was unmistakable.
Then, his hearing recovered enough that he could understand words.
“Shizun,” Binghe said. He was sitting on his left side. Shen Qingqiu felt a gentle touch against his hand and then qi flowed through his body. “Huan Hua is growing restless. Cang Qiong has issued an official order to return you and they’ll take action if I don’t obey. They know they can’t defeat both Liu Qingge and Yue Qingyuan.” There was a moment of silence, and then: “I don’t know if I can defeat both of them at once. The Huan Hua disciples don’t understand why I don’t just return you, they don’t understand-”
Luo Binghe’s breathing was heavy and loud between them and Shen Qingqiu, for once, didn’t mind his paralysis. The uncertainty he felt wouldn’t have let him move anyway.
“But I can’t,” he finally whispered. “I know that, if I give you back, I’ll never see you again. It’s my fault you’re like this. It’s my responsibility to make it better again. If–If I don’t, then what other chance will I get? I can show you that I’m capable of something other than destruction, I swear. I just need to somehow keep Cang Qiong from taking you. But how? Cang Qiong is waiting at my doorstep and Huan Hua is getting ready to mutiny. Shizun, I don't know what to do. Please, please, wake up soon. Everything will get better if only you wake up.”
He fell silent, as though he had run out of words. For a while, only the qi flowing steadily through Shen Qingqiu’s body let him know that Luo Binghe was still there. He felt like reality was just so slightly skewed. He couldn’t make any sense of what he had just heard. It was too different from anything he had believed to be true.
Finally, the flow of qi slowed and Shen Qingqiu felt fine hairs tickle the back of his hand. “Shizun,” Luo Binghe breathed. “Wake up soon. No matter what, just wake up again.”
Eventually, there was the rustle of fabric, the flow of energy stopped, and a door opened and closed again.
Shen Qingqiu lay there and thought about what he had heard for a long time.
Over the next few days, Shen Qingqiu’s mind became more stable and he spent long periods of time just lying awake, trying to move his fingertips or wiggle his toes. It was a frustrating exercise, with only the barest of successes few and far between. The moments when Binghe was there, talking and guiding his qi through Shen Qingqiu's body, were a welcome reprieve.
These days, there wasn't much more to do than to heal and listen. And Binghe gave him a lot to listen to.
“Huan Hua is a peculiar place, Shizun. I don't like it, it's gaudy and vapid and cold. But, at the same time, it's almost strangely familiar. When I walk these halls, it's almost like I was meant to be here. Or maybe, as if some part of me remembers being here, even though I’ve never been.”
Luo Binghe wasn't angry or panicked today and, for that, Shen Qingqiu was grateful. Instead, a slight melancholy resonated in his words, making them quiet and thoughtful.
“They took me in as though they had been waiting for me, and I don't understand why. Is it only because I won the Immortal Alliance Conference back then? I only found out that I won recently, by the way. I had to laugh when I heard. It almost feels like a mockery, now.”
Shen Qingqiu had never thought about what Luo Binghe would feel about having won the conference after coming back out of the abyss and the demon realm. If it had been the original Luo Binghe, Shen Qingqiu imagined he'd have felt spiteful triumph. After all his Shizun had done to beat him down, he was still the best of all the disciples.
That this Luo Binghe's feelings were so different caught Shen Qingqiu off guard.
“They expect me to marry the little palace mistress. They expect me to conform to their ideas of me and become the next sect leader. It’s only now that I have you back and don’t listen to them anymore that they’re starting to realize it won’t be like that.”
His voice suddenly became dark. “No, it really won’t be like that.”
“I think of Qing Jing Peak often. I hadn’t even noticed, when I was still a disciple there, that it’s become a home. But now, I think of it and all I can remember are the cool bamboo groves, the airy rooms of your house, the kitchens where I spent so much time cooking for you. I want to be back there, Shizun, so much. I want everything to go back to how it was before. I want you to look at me again like you did before. I want so many things.”
Oh, Shen Qingqiu thought.
“Shizun, I’m so tired today. I lost my temper with some of the disciples. I can’t help it, they’re just so-”
“Shizun, do you think there’s something wrong with me? I used to think my mood swings came from my demonic side. But the other demons, they’re… they’re not like this. So it must be something about me. I wish-”
“How could you do this to me? Did you really think trying to kill yourself would make me happy? That it would make up for what you did? It doesn’t make up for anything! All I wanted was an explanation, a sign that you still care about me, anything! Instead, you didn’t even give me the chance to be angry! Don’t I deserve… Do I not… But no, no, it’s all my fault, it’s all-”
“Please, just… I can’t-”
Oh, Shen Qingqiu thought and kept thinking, every time Binghe told him more. Oh. He had been so wrong.
And then, one last realization.
“Shizun, before all of it happened, did you ever think of me that way?”
What way, he wanted to ask.
“I did. I thought about it all the time. I’d never wondered before, whether or not I was pretty. But for you, I wanted to be.”
Sudden cold dread shot through Shen Qingqiu, the barest suspicion and ‘Don’t go there, please.’
“I wanted to be dutiful and caring and soft, like a good wife.”
If his eyes hadn’t already been closed, he would have closed them now and turned his head away. What was this? This was the straightest of all protagonists, the stallion with a harem in the triple digits! What was this kind of talk?
“And you accepted everything I did so easily, so readily, sometimes I wondered if you knew about my feelings. The way you smiled and let me do whatever I wanted and even encouraged me, letting me stay in your house and asking me to cook for you and clean for you. I thought…”
Silence took over, and Shen Qingqiu lay there with anxiety prickling under his skin like sharp needles. As much as he wanted to deny it, it had become quite obvious what Binghe was talking about.
“I used to think about marriage a lot, back then. You and me, dressed in red, drinking tea. The way you’d smile at me, the quiet mornings together. We were already halfway there, living together like we did. I wanted it to be more, to have the care in your eyes become something tender, something romantic… I thought I knew you, back then. I don’t think I ever did, now.”
Oh, Shen Qingqiu thought a final time. So it was like that.
He didn't get as much time to process it as he might have wanted to because, only a day or two later, he woke up and his eyes opened a small sliver.
And Binghe noticed.
The bed dipped and then there was a shout. “Shizun? Are you awake?” There were hands on his arms, lifting him, and Binghe's breath stirred the fine hairs on top of his head.
Shen Qingqiu felt strangely exposed, suddenly. For so long, he had silently and secretly listened, and now, Binghe knew he was awake. It felt like waking up from a long, warm dream, abruptly being dunked in the cold water of reality.
There was no going back. Now that Shen Qingqiu had caught his attention, Luo Binghe heard his rapid heartbeat, his changed breathing, and saw how his fingers twitched.
Luo Binghe knew he was awake.
The following days were probably the most awkward ones of Shen Qingqiu’s life.
They were a flurry of Luo Binghe taking care of him and assessing how far his body had healed. Despite having lain about for so long, the pain of moving wasn't the worst part of the whole process by far.
No, the worst part was how utterly his body betrayed him.
His limbs had to be moved like those of a ragdoll, which meant that Luo Binghe dressed, undressed and washed him. His cultivation wasn't nearly healed enough that he could destroy the waste in his body. As a consequence, all the tea and soup Luo Binghe carefully fed him had to come out again. They ended up having to use a bedpan and, after, Shen Qingqiu curled up and thought about death and all its advantages while Luo Binghe carried the sloshing pan away. He swore to himself that there would be no other business happening in the pan, not if he could at all prevent it.
The washing was mortifying in an entirely different way, with Shen Qingqiu’s cheeks growing hot and him closely watching him for any sign of unprofessional feelings as Luo Binghe wiped down his body. To his credit, Luo Binghe was wholly subservient and efficient, but Shen Qingqiu couldn't say how much of that was a front.
Even worse than the care-taking were the assessments Luo Binghe felt he needed to put him through. Every day, his limbs were bent and moved and then, it was Shen Qingqiu’s turn to try and move them himself.
It was a horribly embarrassing affair and Shen Qingqiu’s face cracked more and more as his body failed him, as he was wracked with painful spasms or simply grew so weak that he had to lie in Luo Binghe’s arms like a fainting princess, trying to catch his breath.
Through it all, he didn't miss the subtle smug glint in Luo Binghe’s eyes, no matter how gently and encouragingly he spoke. He figured that it was only fair and resigned himself to more exercises.
In the end, the final straw was trying to speak.
When he opened his mouth, his voice came out as the most wheezing, pathetic croak the world had ever heard.
He promptly closed his mouth, let himself fall over to lie on his side, turned away from Luo Binghe, and pointedly pretended he didn't exist for the rest of the day.
And, at night, he dreamed.
His sleep was restless, full of nightmares he couldn't remember in the morning, and he twitched and writhed in his sheets until all of his muscles ached.
One of those nights, someone was chasing him in his dreams and he knew he had to flee, had to get away, because if he didn't–
Suddenly, the ground under him vanished and he fell.
Shen Qingqiu gasped awake and looked around the dark room to find that he had fallen out of bed. The floor was hard and cold against his sweat-soaked body and he shuddered.
He took a moment to breathe and calm down and fight through the discomfort and panic. Then, he realized he would need to get off the floor.
Shen Qingqiu braced his hands at his side and tried to sit up, only to find that he couldn't.
He silently stared at his shaking arms, willing them to work. When they still didn't comply, he tried to move his legs. He had recovered enough that he could pull them closer and stretch them out, but as he tried to bring them underneath himself to kneel, pain and exhaustion ripped through him until he had to give up.
That was when panic gripped him by the throat. He couldn't get up. He couldn't just keep lying here! What was he supposed to do?
Shen Qingqiu ineffectively wriggled for a moment, but only succeeded to move himself further underneath the bed. At that point, he had to admit it was useless and stopped.
Panic was replaced by white-hot humiliation. Luo Binghe would come by in the morning, at the very latest, and find him like that. Shen Qingqiu couldn't even pretend he had fallen unconscious, Luo Binghe would notice that he was awake immediately.
He would know Shen Qingqiu had lain on the floor for hours.
The thought filled him with new motivation to try and get up. Maybe, if he rested for a bit, he'd regain enough strength to make it back onto the bed.
But, when he tried again after what felt like an eternity, his condition had only worsened. All of his muscles were burning now and he felt cold and sluggish. More miserable and helpless than he had ever felt, Shen Qingqiu had to swallow back instinctive tears. He wasn't about to cry over a bit of humiliation and discomfort.
He ended up having to wait.
It was a few miserable hours of waiting, where every minute felt like a year. He was too cold and uncomfortable to fall back asleep and had to fight back tears a few more times as he went from fearing the humiliation to wishing for Binghe to please, please show up soon.
Eventually, the darkness lifted and the first sunrays fell through the window. Even then, the door only opened when it was well into the morning.
Luo Binghe entered with a tray in his hands and Shen Qingqiu grimaced as the humiliation came rushing back. It only worsened as Binghe stared at him for a long moment with a blank look on his face, before he quickly dropped the tray on a nearby table and came rushing over.
“Shizun!” He quickly knelt down next to him and gently grabbed his arm and back to help him sit up. Shen Qingqiu made a wheezing noise at the resulting pain. “What happened?”
He very demonstratively didn’t look at Binghe. Beside him, his disciple stiffened. “Shizun wasn’t trying to escape, was he?” He gave a dark laugh. “Because that would have been–” But, as he took in Shen Qingqiu’s embarrassed face, he suddenly seemed to realize what had truly happened.
Unfortunately, Binghe was a very smart person when he wasn’t blinded by self-doubts.
“Did–Did Shizun fall out of bed?”
Shen Qingqiu instinctively ducked his head and Binghe’s eyes grew wide. “Oh.”
There was a moment of awkward silence between them before Binghe slid his hands further around his back and under his legs and lifted him from the floor. Shen Qingqiu shuddered a little, but he had been so cold for so long that he couldn’t help but lean into Binghe’s warmth.
A hitched breath came from above. Then, Binghe gently lowered him onto the bed. But, as he tried to draw away, cold air hit Shen Qingqiu and he whimpered, all his animal desperation brought to the surface again. He held on, unwilling to lose the warmth the other man provided.
“Ah.” Binghe looked down at him, a complicated mix of emotions in his eyes. “Don’t worry, Shizun, I’m here.” He sat on the side of the bed and leaned over, letting himself be pulled by Shen Qingqiu’s weak grip until he was hovering above him. Then, he started pushing spiritual energy through their points of contact.
Slowly, Shen Qingqiu grew warm again. His teeth stopped shattering and he regained feelings in his feet and hands. All the while, Binghe stayed, patiently feeding him energy.
Eventually, exhaustion overtook him and he fell asleep.
It got better, from then on. Not only Shen Qingqiu’s condition but also his relationship with Binghe.
The smug satisfaction at seeing Shen Qingqiu struggle had faded into something softer. Binghe still enjoyed his reliance on him a little bit too much, but his concern was more genuine now and his help came swifter.
Recovery was slow, but relatively steady with only minor setbacks. After a while, Shen Qingqiu managed to sit up by himself for longer and longer times and hold his teacup without immediately dropping it.
He was also reintroduced to Binghe’s cooking, even though he could only eat a frustratingly small amount at the beginning. First, these meals were brought to his bed but, eventually, Binghe seemed to notice Shen Qingqiu growing increasingly restless.
From then on, Binghe started to carry him around the room. To the table for meals and to the chair next to the window in the afternoon. It made his recovery bearable.
In that manner, a few days passed, then a week. Shen Qingqiu spent a lot of the time in Binghe's company.
The rest of the time, he was left alone with his thoughts.
That evening, Binghe dressed Shen Qingqiu in soft silk and rich, red brocade. The wide sleeves fanned over his lap and he stared at the embroidered cranes on them. He was carried to his high-backed chair, armrests on either side to prevent him from just tilting over and falling to the ground.
He still hadn’t regained enough mobility to keep himself upright for long periods of time.
Binghe laid out a small feast on the table next to him: congee, thin strips of spicy meat, stir-fried vegetables, and lotus roots topped with garlic and ginger. His face was drawn as he arranged the dishes, spread a cloth over Shen Qingqiu’s lap to prevent any staining, and set out a bowl and chopsticks.
Shen Qingqiu couldn’t guess what was preoccupying him and it wasn’t like he could ask. He had been practicing, deep at night, but all that came out of his mouth were pathetic croaks. He didn’t want anyone to hear that.
Finally, when everything was arranged, Binghe sat down next to him and picked up the bowl and chopsticks. He carefully pinched a piece of lotus root between the ends and, holding it over the bowl, lifted it up to Shen Qingqiu’s mouth.
Shen Qingqiu flushed a bit at the humiliation of it, the discomfort of being reliant on someone else to eat. But they had gone through the whole process many times now and he was slowly getting used to it, reluctant though he might be.
“Open your mouth, Shizun.”
He obeyed and Binghe delicately laid the lotus root on his tongue. Shen Qingqiu quickly closed his mouth and chewed. It all wouldn’t be so… much, if he didn’t know about Binghe’s more than filial feelings. As it was, he was very conscious of everything his disciple did, analyzing every glance and watching every movement.
After the lotus root, there was some meat, a piece of bok choy, a bit of rice, more vegetables, and slowly, Binghe’s face smoothed out. “It’s been a long day. This disciple apologizes that he couldn’t keep Shizun company sooner.”
Immediately, images of Binghe desperately fighting against the combined power of Yue Qingyuan and Liu Qingge came to his mind and he cast a concerned eye over him, checking if he was hurt anywhere. But he looked as immaculate as always, only perhaps a little more exhausted.
Binghe caught his glance and softened further. “Nothing too bad, just… many taxing people.”
Eventually, Shen Qingqiu’s jaw started to hurt from all the chewing and he turned his head away when Binghe offered him another bite of lotus root. Wordlessly, Binghe switched to congee, which he could just swallow without chewing.
But even so, now that the pain had started, it was worsening quickly. Soon, Shen Qingqiu had to refuse even the soft congee.
Luo Binghe set the chopsticks down.
“Actually, there was something else. There’s a rumor, now, about you and me.” Shen Qingqiu looked at him questioningly, but Luo Binghe averted his eyes. “They say that I’m forcing you to stay here. No, worse than that, they think that–that I’m keeping you as a…”
In his distress, Luo Binghe snapped the chopstick that he had been fiddling with. He silently stared down at the broken halves for a moment. “They say I’m forcing you to warm my bed.”
Silence fell over them like a heavy blanket and Shen Qingqiu thought about how to respond to something like that. He ended up just staring at Binghe, thinking that their suspicions weren’t completely unfounded, after all.
Binghe’s face twisted harshly. “You’d really believe that of me? But of course you do, I should have known-”
As he spoke, storm clouds darkened his face and hate made his eyes glint red. But now, after listening to him for so long, Shen Qingqiu could finally see where that hate was directed and he found that he couldn't bear it.
He reached out and put a hand on Binghe’s forearm. Gently, he stroked his thumb over it, moving the cloth of the sleeve.
Abruptly pulled out of his upcoming fit by the unexpected touch, Binghe stared at Shen Qingqiu’s hand with wide eyes. After a few seconds of that kind of staring, Shen Qingqiu grew embarrassed enough to quickly retract it.
But Binghe seemed to have calmed down anyway. His expression now was one of complicated confusion and hope and he didn't quite meet Shen Qingqiu’s eyes when he looked up again. “Let me help you back to bed, Shizun.”
And then, of course, it all went to shit.
Shen Qingqiu was growing used to being with Luo Binghe again. It wasn’t all perfect, they still had moments when Binghe grew resentful or Shen Qingqiu grew silent and unresponsive. He still couldn’t talk and was only able to take a few steps at a time before he collapsed. Binghe was still taking too much pleasure from having him rely on him so completely.
But, slowly, he was starting to feel hope again, the tentative stirrings of happiness.
They were sitting down for tea, one of those days. Shen Qingqiu was finally able to hold the cup himself for short periods of time, while Binghe told him about the latest gossip of Huan Hua Palace. He would never admit it out loud, but he was feeling a certain amount of vindictive pleasure at hearing Binghe talk about the Little Palace Mistress so dismissively.
He was on his second cup when an explosion blasted a hole into one of the walls.
Shen Qingqiu wheezed at the resulting dust in the air, raising one shaky arm in front of his nose and mouth. Binghe was on his feet and had drawn Xin Mo faster than the eye could see and was standing protectively in front of him.
Two figures stepped out of the billowing dust. Shen Qingqiu needed a moment for his eyes to adjust before he recognized Yue Qingyuan and Liu Qingge.
Luo Binghe made a noise that could only be called a growl and Yue Qingyuan’s face grew grim. They raised their swords. Shen Qingqiu opened his mouth and tried, with all that he had, to say something. All that came out were raspy croaks.
Before he could do anything else, swords clashed and the fight began.
Luo Binghe was an excellent fighter. Even against the war god, he could win without a problem. One to one against Yue Qingyuan, he would likely win as well. Against two of them at once, though, while being restricted by having to cover Shen Qingqiu?
He still put up a good fight, but Yue Qingyuan was unexpectedly wily and, during a moment of distraction, he slipped by Luo Binghe, relying on Liu Qingge to keep him distracted. Shen Qingqiu had managed to rise from his chair, bracing himself on the table and breathing heavily, intent on going between the men. Now, however, he was swept right off his feet and into Yue Qingyuan’s arms. He looked up at his solemn expression, his eyes dark and determined.
“Don’t worry, Shidi,” he said. “We’ll get you out of here.”
They did, even if it took destroying two more walls of Huan Hua Palace and Liu Qingge taking quite a few hits in the process.
As they flew away, Shen Qingqiu heard Luo Binghe’s anguished howl behind them and his heart ached.
Cang Qiong was disconcertingly normal. Shen Qingqiu kept feeling like it should be different, after everything that had happened, but all around him, disciples went to classes, hall masters taught, and Binghe was still gone.
It was like the last few weeks hadn’t happened.
The only changes were all in relation to him. He still couldn’t speak, could barely write, and had to take long breaks where he just lay on his bed to catch his breath and rest his aching body. He communicated through gestures, bits of writing, and facial expressions with Ming Fan, but was unwilling to let the young man help him dress or wash. It made his morning and evening routines a struggle, but Shen Qingqiu would rather go to bed without brushing his teeth or combing his hair than have his disciple do it for him.
At least, not this disciple.
The other big change was that Liu Shidi had apparently taken it upon himself to guard him. He was standing outside the bamboo house like a silent, sullen guard dog, only vanishing for short times during which, not so coincidentally, Yue Qingyuan decided to stop by for tea. Shen Qingqiu was given what essentially amounted to a panic button, that would call Yue Qingyuan and Liu Qingge to his side at any time of day and night, and was subsequently never left alone again.
He was, frankly, growing tired of it. The stress kept giving him headaches, as if his body didn’t hurt enough already. And it wasn’t as though they didn’t try. Ming Fan and Ning Yingying were practically begging him to let them help and he knew that he only needed to say, or rather write the word, and Yue Qingyuan would give him anything he desired.
Except for letting him see Binghe, that was. Unfortunately, that was all Shen Qingqiu wanted.
He felt reminded of the time right after Binghe fell into the abyss. He kept looking for him, kept expecting him to be right by his side, only to find the space empty. Each and every space was defined by his absence and oh, but Shen Qingqiu ached.
Maybe he shouldn’t. After all, the rumors weren’t completely baseless. Binghe had kept him away from the sect, had deliberately endangered people just to have access to Shen Qingqiu. And his intentions weren’t wholly pure, even he knew that now.
Still. Without Binghe, what was the point? His surroundings were gray and his food tasteless. He cared for his disciples and his martial siblings, of course, and yet–
He wanted to see Binghe again, no matter what it took.
Shen Qingqiu lay in bed at night, the silvery light of the moon shining in through the window, and made a plan.
As soon as he got better, he would talk to Yue Qingyuan. Binghe had become a formidable power over the last years. He would soon become the master of Huan Hua Palace, if he hadn't already. It would be in Cang Qiong’s best interests to forge good relations with him. And, for some reason, Binghe had developed… certain feelings for him.
If Shen Qingqiu came to visit Huan Hua in an official capacity, maybe even proposing a union between the sects of a more personal nature, he believed Binghe would hear him out.
It would be the best for the sect, the surest guarantee for their continued survival. And Shen Qingqiu wouldn't mind too much, this sacrifice of marrying Binghe, if this was what his disciple desired.
He thought of the way Binghe would look at him, had already looked at him before, vulnerable and hopeful and all too ready to accept the smallest hint of Shen Qingqiu’s continued affection, and his fingers curled in the bedding.
Married life with Binghe… If Binghe had been right about one thing, it was that their relationship before the Immortal Alliance Conference hadn't been that far off. If they could go back to that, only now with an older Binghe, mature and beautiful, Shen Qingqiu really–
A sound came from the other side of the Bamboo House.
Shen Qingqiu tensed. It should only be the wind, or the natural creaking of a wooden house, since there was no way an intruder had made it past Liu Qingge.
Unless…
He got up from the bed, silently groaning at his aching muscles, and grabbed his house robe from the bench next to the bed. He quickly shrugged it on and tied it, before making his way across the room on quiet, bare feet. The hallway was empty and dark and he decided to check the kitchen.
As he rounded the corner, an arm came up around him, pulled him against a hard body, and a hand was pressed over his mouth, stifling his surprised noise. “Careful now, Shizun, we wouldn't want to alarm anyone,” Binghe's voice sounded against his ear, deep and quiet.
His instinctual fear was replaced by relief and he relaxed against Binghe. He was here. He hadn't forgotten about Shen Qingqiu.
Then, Binghe’s free hand started roaming over his body and, for a moment, Shen Qingqiu wanted to squawk indignantly and whack Binghe for his shamelessness. But then, he realized that he was only checking his pockets.
When he came up empty, Binghe tsked. “They didn't even give you any protection to keep on your body? Careless.”
Shen Qingqiu guiltily thought of the panic button lying on his nightstand.
Binghe's hand came up again and, this time, he was definitely feeling up his body. Shen Qingqiu immediately tensed up all over again. “Hmph!”
“Oh Shizun,” Binghe said sympathetically, “they've neglected you, haven't they? You're so thin.” His fingers danced over his ribs and Shen Qingqiu was starting to realize that, if he didn't want Binghe to simply knock him out and kidnap him again, he would need to get a little wily about it.
He leaned back, putting most of his weight against Binghe and setting the back of his head against his shoulder. Then, he turned his face until his nose stroked across the sensitive skin of Binghe's neck. Above him, he heard a quiet gasp and something inside him glowed with smug satisfaction. A second later, he achieved his goal. Binghe was distracted enough that his tight hold on Shen Qingqiu’s mouth loosened a bit.
Shen Qingqiu used the chance and kissed his palm.
For a moment, he was afraid it hadn't been noticed. Then, Binghe stiffened all over and quickly released him. He turned around, finally able to move freely again, and saw that Binghe was standing in the shadowed entryway to the kitchen, his eyes wide and his cheeks faintly flushed.
A knot of affection in Shen Qingqiu’s chest squeezed tightly, making him just a little reckless. He reached up towards Binghe’s face and gently stroked his cheek.
Binghe gasped and squeezed his eyes shut tightly.
Shen Qingqiu greedily took in his overcome expression. Then, he realized what he had just done and mortification crashed over him like a tidal wave. He felt his face grow hot and promptly turned around to stumble back into the bedroom.
Binghe followed him, of course.
“Shizun, Shizun, wait, don't be embarrassed!”
Halfway across the living room, his body betrayed him, not used to so much activity yet. His knees gave out underneath him and he sucked in a breath in surprise. A second later, Binghe pulled him back against his body and took him securely into his arms again.
Shen Qingqiu put his hands on his chest and tried very hard to pretend that they didn't look like the cover of a bodice ripper novel right now.
“Shizun, I thought…” Binghe looked so lost.
At that moment, Shen Qingqiu wished he could speak. But, as it was, he could only shake his head. He couldn’t even remember when he had last been afraid of Binghe.
Binghe gave a shuddering exhale and leaned his forehead against the side of Shen Qingqiu’s head.
Unobserved, Shen Qingqiu could take a breath and collect his thoughts. Then, he reached behind himself and grabbed one of Binghe’s hands to pull it into the space between them. Binghe lifted his head with a confused sound and watched as Shen Qingqiu used the pointer finger of his other hand to carefully write a character on the back of Binghe’s hand. Then another, and another…
When he was done, he looked up, but Binghe’s face was blank. After a few seconds, Shen Qingqiu started to worry that he would need to repeat the sentence. He wasn’t sure his face could take it.
But then, Binghe’s face twisted and he wrapped his arms back around Shen Qingqiu, putting most of his weight on him and making him stumble back. “Yes,” he whispered roughly into his shoulder. “Yes, Shizun. Let's start over.”
Shen Qingqiu wrapped his arms around him in return and pretended he couldn’t feel the dampness where Binghe’s face was pressed against his shoulder.
It wasn't the second chance he had expected but Shen Qingqiu found he didn't mind too much.