Chapter Text
The ancient hall centered on the top of Qiong Ding Peak was one that lay open to the sky. Barrier arrays allowed for a perfect view of the clouds overhead without letting in the falling snow, but that still didn’t make the cold space comfortable in the slightest — not at this late hour of the night and especially with everyone's qi suppressed to hide their presence.
With his hands tucked into his sleeves where he could dig his fingernails into his arms rather than let himself shiver, Shen Qingqiu looked again over to Sect Leader Zhao Shixin.
While all twelve head disciples and their accompanying hall masters had donned cloaks and hoods, Zhao Shixin had remained in his usual dark regalia. At over two hundred years old and counting, the thin and stoic man's disconnect from the world could scarcely be imagined; even on the walk up to the hall, when the weather had turned snowflakes into tiny daggers of ice against any exposed skin, he had not seen the sect leader so much as wince.
His other martial siblings had already made their way south in preparation. The exodus had been made at a crawling insect's pace, to better weave the web of lies across the entire jianghu that all of its great leaders were going about their normal lives in seclusion, at conferences, or on solitary travels...
Anything but slowly circling around Bai Lu Mountain like a noose.
Shen Qingqiu's own goodbye to his mentor had been such a short moment that it hadn't held the weight as he felt that maybe it should have. He only considered later that he shouldn't have expected anything else; the amount of words between them in the years he'd spent on Qing Jing could probably be held in a teacup. From her, there would be no tearful goodbyes. No offers of support. No promises to return.
"And if Shizun does not return?"
He'd known by then that Cao Shiying wouldn't be offended by such a blunt question. They were both cold creatures, after all.
"Burn me, and then every single thing that was once mine," she had said in her dry, rasping voice before taking her sword from his upheld palms. Like Zhao Shixin, she hadn't dressed for the season either; since the day they'd met, Shen Qingqiu had only known her as a hazy shape behind her weimao's long veils. "This master does not care where you scatter the ashes."
He still wasn't sure if she was referring to her possessions or her bones.
With her departure, only the sect leader had remained—
Shen Qingqiu's eyes darted over to the man's left.
...Him and his heir.
While Shen Qingqiu stood among the people that he would unfortunately now have to rely on while they were all left behind, Yue Qingyuan stood tall in a place all his own at his mentor's side. A mantle of silvery fur atop a cloak of dark grey shielded him from the cold, the only part of him exposed being the hand that rested on the pommel of his sword. In his silence, he wore an expression of quiet focus, his habitual mask of serenity abandoned for one more befitting a future sect leader.
Ever the unreachable mountain.
Just as he stood alone now, he would leave in the same way. The only one among them given the prestigious honor to assist in this battle that would shake the foundations of the world as they all knew it. And when he returned, Yue Qingyuan's legend would have only grown greater, grown brighter, as if it weren't so enough already to eclipse everything else in its shadow.
It took hearing the sect leader's voice to yank him out of his seething.
"The weight of Cang Qiong now rests on all your shoulders." Though Zhao Shixin's voice had always toned to the low and quiet, the words still fell heavily into Shen Qingqiu's ears. "There will be no contact for some time. Two, perhaps three weeks at the latest. But do not let the length of this dull your wits. You will all remain alert to anything that may seek out weakness in this hour. You will act as is befitting for your stations..."
Sharp and purposeful as a scraping knife, his gaze traced over each and every head disciple, carving his edict into their minds along with all the threat of what failure might bring them. Some returned the look, others bowed their heads. Someone, unquestionable as to who, made a pathetic sound and ducked down rather than meet it.
On his last sentence, Zhao Shixin’s eyes fell on Shen Qingqiu, narrowing slightly but without comment.
He didn't say anything more anyway. The message was clear all the same.
Yue Qingyuan and Zhao Shixin leaving placed Shen Qingqiu as the de facto leader of the sect in their absence; it was a concept that might have left some lesser fools giddy with power. But he'd had too many temporary things in his life to not see this task for what it was. This was not a reward. It was a test, as things always were. And his reward would be of no significance other than to welcome these two men back as heroes and return them to their rightful stations.
There was nothing to celebrate or mourn, so Shen Qingqiu only met that look of unmasked disdain with one of his own.
Cold, distant, already so far away from them, Zhao Shixin returned the stare and gave the last words he would ever speak on his mountain.
"There will be no room for mistakes."
And with that, the dam broke.
Surging forward as one, masters and disciples all approached the sect leader. Some sought last-minute approval for matters before he disappeared, while others clamored to offer up congratulations and praises.
Shen Qingqiu turned to step away, not at all eager to join that pack. He had already sorted out all his requests and needs without any outside help, and he wouldn't be so presumptive to award victory to someone who hadn't already earned it—
"Qingqiu-shidi?"
Even when it was all but guaranteed to such rising stars.
"Yue-shixiong."
The candles of the great hall were unlit, a measure of secrecy necessary on a mountain that never ever truly slept, but Shen Qingqiu didn't need them to know just what sort of smile was curling across the other man's face even before he turned to look at it.
"I was wondering if I could--"
One end of Shen Qingqiu's fan poked sharply into Yue Qingyuan's chest to prevent him from getting a single step closer.
"If you are here to remind me of my responsibilities, save your breath,” said Shen Qingqiu, eyes already narrowed and suspicious.
Yue Qingyuan shook his head, quick to deny the accusation, as always. "Not at all. I'm certain Shidi has been staying well-informed on this matter."
Already the man's tone had turned placating and belly-up. His voice fell quieter as well; clearly he didn’t want the others to notice them speaking. Or maybe he was just worried Shen Qingqiu would snap at him in front of his esteemed mentor? Predictable.
He continued, "I just wanted to have a few words with you before we left. That's all."
Doubtful. Shen Qingqiu had grown too used to Yue Qingyuan's tactics of introducing himself through 'necessary' tasks in order to speak to him at length about useless things. As if the dozen or so times a year they met face-to-face outside of the group disciple meetings or martial tournaments wasn't enough. The only question was why now.
"What more is there to talk about between us?" Shen Qingqiu fired back. "I will remain here to babysit while you and our elders make your mark in history by eliminating the last heavenly demon."
"...Shidi's role is no less important. Should anything happen, hundreds of people here will look to you for protection and guidance."
'Should anything happen.' Ha.
At that thought, Shen Qingqiu's eyes slid down to where Xuan Su hung on Yue Qingyuan’s waist, peeking out from beneath the cloak. Yue Qingyuan's hand had already been resting there, but as soon as his stare landed on the sword, he watched how it tightened reflexively.
In turn, Shen Qingqiu's annoyance began to swell into insult. The dark sheath was so plain and antiquated, almost insultingly so for a weapon with its sort of legend — but apparently even just looking at it was enough to make its owner want to shield it from his lowly eyes.
"With the Xuan Su sword on the field, what's there to fear?" he questioned acidly, keeping his stare fixed on the weapon. "Maybe while he rots beneath the mountain, Tianlang-Jun will be able to console himself that at least he of all things was able to look on its full glory."
The fingers around the hilt tightened until they were pale as bone. From above, Yue Qingyuan's voice came out equally taut as he murmured, "My hopes are that it does not come to that."
Shen Qingqiu barely held back an amused snort before he looked away from behind his fan and replied, "No. No, of course not. Why sully a well-earned reputation as the man who doesn’t even need to unsheathe his weapon to humiliate and ruin his enemies? Not even the prodigy of those beasts deserves such consideration, apparently!"
Yue Qingyuan said nothing for once, avoiding his gaze to stare down at the weathered pommel in his palm.
In the meantime, Shen Qingqiu only became more and more aware that people were starting to watch the show; even without turning but just squinting out the corner of his vision, he could feel all their eyes and ears being fixed on him. No, on both of them.
His skin prickled under the the obvious expectations of him to soil this goodbye, the feeling growing in strength until the fan in his hand was creaking for mercy--
"Shidi."
Against his better judgement, Shen Qingqiu looked back at him.
He immediately regretted it.
Any attempts at soft manner had disappeared from Yue Qingyuan's face and body, leaving behind squared shoulders and an expression of tight-lipped determination. His eyes all but gleamed, even in the dark pitch of night, focused on nothing else in the room, perhaps the world itself, but the one who stood before him.
Shen Qingqiu’s own spine tensed in response. He could count on his hands how many times the man had looked at him with such intensity. The first time he'd caught him provoking Liu Qingge into a fight, or when they had screamed at each other at the Nuanhong Pavilion, among others... but at least those times, he'd known the source of Yue Qingyuan's ire. What he'd done to provoke it now, he had no idea.
"Shidi, I..." A pause, and then, "I think there are some things that you…"
When Yue Qingyuan went still again, the words falling away while his throat bobbed, it could almost fool Shen Qingqiu into thinking that maybe he'd misread him, that somehow he wasn't angry but... nervous.
But that was ridiculous, wasn't it? No, clearly he was just fretting about being publicly embarrassed right before his grand adventure. That had to be it. And like the fool that he was, Shen Qingqiu stayed still and waited for him to just come out and say so.
After taking in another shallow breath, Yue Qingyuan started over more confidently with a declaration. "If I return, could we—"
"Enough."
The word leapt out of Shen Qingqiu like the snapping jaws of a trap, biting Yue Qingyuan into silence just the same.
"What did you just say? 'If'?" The way he stressed the word curled his upper lip into a sneer. "This is no stage and you are certainly no actor, so don't throw around such pointless dramatics, especially at me."
"I'm not—" Yue Qingyuan caught his frustrated response before it could become any louder, flattening it down into something more respectable and quiet. "I'm only acknowledging that this mission is not without risk, that's all. I don't want to go into such a battle when there are things that--” Again, again, that damnable hesitation, that farce of emotion. “--that I have wanted to speak to you about."
Shen Qingqiu arched one sharp eyebrow in return and challenged, "Oh? What more could you possibly have to say to me that can't be said right here, right now?"
A scolding, most likely, yet another lecture disguised as concern. Or was there some other flaw he'd found in him, something that could reflect back on him and so would have to be fixed? Had he not had his fill of it yet?
Yue Qingyuan immediately opened his mouth to say something — and then just as quickly closed it, before his gaze flickered over to his left. Shen Qingqiu's focus followed after.
Two unblinking eyes stared back from over one of Zhao Shixin's silver-clad shoulders.
In an instant, color drained from Yue Qingyuan's face to evenly match the white-knuckled grip he still had on Xuan Su. All the sudden energy in his posture and voice seemed to have bled out with it by the time he turned back to face Shen Qingqiu and...
Smiled.
"Shidi is right." The new but familiar expression barely wavered as Yue Qingyuan spoke, like a doll, a mask, something Shen Qingqiu wanted to rip off and shatter on the floor. "It's not that important right now."
Tch. Of course.
"Just as I thought. Heavens forbid I be the one to keep you from your destiny," toned Shen Qingqiu coldly. "Get going then."
Before Yue Qingyuan could do as he'd been told, Shen Qingqiu beat him to it anyway and left the hall without another word.
It was a long walk back to the Bamboo House with only his cloudy breath for company. The burn of ice and snow pelting his cheeks promised that the next few days would surely be the coldest the season had to offer, maybe even the coldest they’d seen for years. By the time he lay in bed, he could hear how the wind had picked up strength, rattling at his windows and making the bamboo groves creak and moan. The mountain range would be all but buried by sunrise.
So it was easy to believe that, even if he’d bothered trying, he wouldn't have been able to make out anyone flying off into that dark and lonely night.