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Luo Binghe’s memories return just as Ning Yingying brings him to Qing Jing Peak. Just as he’s making a cup of tea for his new Shizun, for the lofty immortal who had chosen him as his disciple-

The memories crash into him, and he nearly drops the pot of hot water. The empty cup in front of him blurs, gets filled with tea, the tea is poured on top of his head. As do the blows. The whip lashes on his back that healed only to be re-inflicted. The bruises and the exhaustion and the improper instruction that could have killed him if he hadn’t been the half-blooded demon he is. Luo Binghe’s hands shake, and he barely feels the steaming water slopping onto his skin. The numbness of sudden knowledge fades, to be replaced by blistering hot rage. At the world, at the gods, at Shizun. Most of all, at himself.

He’d sworn he would never be helpless again, but look where he is now.

His mind frantically darts everywhere, thinking of what to do. Where to go. But where else can he go? Without his cultivation, he’s just an ordinary child, ripe pickings for any hungry animal prowling the streets. He’s evaded enough slavers and would-be rapists to know he’s not going back if he can help it. And he can still remember how Huan Hua’s Old Palace Master liked to look at him as though he owned him. Zhao Hua Monastery will probably execute him on the spot if they ever figure out he’s a demon, and he’s not particularly inclined to be a monk anyways. He can probably expect much the same treatment at Bai Li sect.

Luo Binghe’s stomach sinks as he ponders his options – rather, his lack of them. For good or for ill, Cang Qiong Mountain – and Shen Qingqiu – are evils he knows he can survive. Survive, and eventually destroy. He grits his teeth, remembering the savage satisfaction of tearing Shen Qingqiu’s limbs off his body for the very first time.

He’s just going to have to bide his time, he tells himself as he prepares the tea – just like he used to for his mother. The tea that Ning Yingying told him that Shen Qingqiu likes is of far more excellent quality than anything his mother ever drunk, and Luo Binghe stifles the resentment at how Shen Qingqiu’s just going to waste it.

Ning Yingying merrily leads him to the bamboo house, where Shen Qingqiu is waiting. Luo Binghe hates himself for how his breath catches when he sees Shen Qingqiu. Still so lofty, the facade of purity hiding the rot beneath.

He’d stripped him of that facade before. Had reduced him to a creature unable to beg, or even scream. He tells himself this as his heart pounds in old fear. As he braces himself for the memory of pain, his jaw clenched tight. He doesn’t want to reveal his anger, so he relaxes his expression as he politely responds to Shen Qingqiu’s questions,thanking him for taking him in as his disciple.

When Shen Qingqiu asks him about his mother, he answers it. He doesn’t miss how the corners of Shen Qingqiu’s tighten – he’d been too grateful to pick up on it, beforehand, too eager to please his new Shizun. The smart thing to do would be to stop talking entirely, but he’ll be in Shen Qingqiu’s power for a very long time. Sooner or later the petty, vicious Shizun of Luo Binghe’s memories will resurface out of jealousy. Luo Binghe would rather he reveals himself now, and if he can give Shen Qingqiu some small amount of frustration, so be it.

Shen Qingqiu takes the cup, and Luo Binghe instinctively stiffens, bracing himself. But Shen Qingqiu does not pour the tea over his head. Instead, he lifts the cup to his lips and takes a sip.

Luo Binghe stares at him, dumbfounded, as Shen Qingqiu grimaces.

“This tea is very badly brewed,” he chides Luo Binghe. Luo Binghe waits for Shen Qingqiu to reach for it and pour the rest of it over his head, but he doesn’t. He just sets the cup down on its tray as he stands up.

“Luo Binghe,” Luo Binghe’s gaze snaps from the cup to Shen Qingqiu’s. He doesn’t dare rise to his feet – he remembers at one point Shen Qingqiu had slapped him for presuming to try and stand up before Shen Qingqiu told him he could.

The expression he sees there makes his breath catch. It was the way Luo Binghe sometimes saw him looking at Ning Yingying, a softness that he’d trained himself to never want because it’s not for him. Still, he had yearned for Shen Qingqiu to look at him like that, even just once. Now he is, but there’s resentment mingled there, too. A bitterness along the taut corners of his lips that’s all too familiar, but what surprises Luo Binghe is the fact he doesn’t act on it.

Luo Binghe stupidly, bizarrely, wants to bawl. Moreso when Shen Qingqiu’s hand lands – still so unnervingly gently – on top of his head.

“Have Ming Fan teach you the proper way to brew tea,” Shen Qingqiu says seriously. “If you’re to be my disciple, I will not tolerate anything but your best efforts.” His fingers tighten in his hair – not painfully, just a slightly pointed tug. Luo Binghe swallows, his mouth suddenly gone dry.

Luo Binghe doesn’t hear the sharp order he gives the older boy, who quickly bows and hurries off. Luo Binghe tenses – expecting to be beaten, or kicked. But Shen Qingqiu’s hands remain gentle, impossibly gentle as brushes Luo Binghe’s hair away from his face and guides him to his feet. Though neither does the resentment fade from his eyes. If anything, it intensifies as he tilts Luo Binghe’s head up.

Luo Binghe stares at him mutely, his heart in his throat as Shen Qingqiu holds Luo Binghe’s face between his hands.

“You are now a disciple of Qing Jing Peak.” Shen Qingqiu says, thumbing at a patch of dirt on his cheek. “Be sure to act accordingly.” This time, Luo Binghe really has to blink back the hot tears as Shen Qingqiu keeps looking at him with that strange soft resentfulness, passing his fingers through Luo Binghe’s hair one last time before letting him go.

---

“That’s him.” Shen Qingqiu had noticed the moment he’d walked into the testing field. A small, scrawny boy who looked much younger than twelve due to malnutrition, hunched over digging a hole in the ground. Already he had made the most and the deepest, and was still carrying on when many other children had already given up.

Yue Qingyuan’s gaze slides from Shen Qingqiu’s, to the field. Liu Qingge had dropped by and Shen Qingqiu had barely heard his pointed needling, too busy watching the boy who would become his future disciple get covered in dirt and sweat, huffing and puffing as he digs one hole after another, the bright red cord of his pendant standing out on his nape like a line of blood.

“Xiao Jiu, are you sure?” Shen Qingqiu gives him a curt nod. Yue Qingyuan looks worried– a familiar expression on his face, whenever Luo Binghe is concerned.“Ku Xing Peak is always short on recruits, and I’m sure he’ll make his place in Bai Zhan easily enough.”

In another life, Shen Qingqiu would have bristled and lashed out at Yue Qingyuan’s guilty conscience. In this one, he recognizes it for the care he’s known since childhood, though it exasperates him just as much as it warms him. Shen Qingqiu snaps his fan shut.

“He just came off the streets. I doubt he’ll be thrilled to be starved for the sake of his cultivation.” Shen Qingqiu scoffs at the thought of Luo Binghe and all his varied lusts -that Shen Qingqiu had more often than not found himself subjected to- becoming an ascetic, of all things. “And I’m not letting Bai Zhan get its hands on him. They’re all brutes, and their Peak Lord is the biggest brute of all.” He doesn’t particularly want to find out just what monster Luo Binghe would become after being subjected to Bai Zhan’s lawless hierarchy.

Yue Qingyuan sighs, the frown does not ease from between his brows. “Xiao Jiu,” hesays. “I’m just worried.”

I’m just worried he’ll hurt you again. Goes unspoken. Shen Qingqiu exhales. Sometimes he really does regret telling Yue Qingyuan everything, if only because it had intensified Qi-ge’s uncontrollable hovering. Unlike him, Yue Qingyuan doesn’t remember the other life. Shen Qingqiu considers it both a blessing and a curse, and always an inconvenience when something from itdoescome up.

That something always, inevitably, being Luo Binghe. As Shen Qingqiu watches his disciple, he feels the anxiety that had plagued him for over twenty years ease at his presence.

“This is the point of this whole exercise, isn’t it? To make sure to keep him in our sight so he doesn’t torch the entire cultivation world again.” Shen Qingqiu points out flatly. The words are harsh, but he knows Yue Qingyuan’s sense of duty as Sect Leader will get him to agree even if personally, he does not.

But Yue Qingyuan still looks terribly uncertain. Shen Qingqiu bites back his irritation at Yue Qingyuan choosing to be assertive now, of all times. Shen Qingqiu’s fully aware Qi-ge can never deny him anything, anyways.

“He’s mine, Qi-ge.” Shen Qingqiu says bluntly. “Whether you like it or not. There’s a reason I can remember our first life together.” The first life that had been full of anguish and pain and resentment, as well as indescribable joys and sorrows both. There are many nights when Shen Qingqiu wakes up with terror clawing at his throat, to seek comfort in arms that are not there, to curl up in an empty bed to try to remember the brush of lips against his hair, a strong heartbeat under his cheek lulling him back to dreamless sleep. There are an equal number of days where Shen Qingqiu can feel the phantom ache of limbs that have been torn off and reattached too many times, where even Yue Qingyuan’s touch is too much, and the sound of running water makes him flinch.

“I know that, Xiao Jiu.” Yue Qingyuan says after a few moments of silence, his gaze going shadowed. “I just want to remind you: do not hesitate to ask me if you need help. You know I’ll come for you.”

Like he has in this life, and even in the one before, without him bothering to tell Shen Jiu he actually had. Shen Qingqiu remembers the interminable years of waiting at Qiu manor, the fire of his departure with Wu Yanzi overlapping with the flare of Xuan Su upon Qi-ge’s return.

“If I do this right-” If I fix my mistakes. Shen Qingqiu says, slightly haltingly. It’s never easy for him to say the words in his heart.“-You won’t need to keep saving me.” His throat stings to just say it. Yue Qingyuan smiles at him.

“I will, regardless.” Behind his fan, Shen Qingqiu almost manages to smile.

He sends Ning Yingying to fetch Luo Binghe and bring him to Qing Jing Peak. In the bamboo house, Shen Qingqiu waits, Ming Fan waiting attentively behind him as Shen Qingqiu distracts himself from the agitated beat of his heart by waving his fan. Sifting through memories like sand, and he doesn’t notice Luo Binghe has entered the room until Ming Fan speaks behind him and draws his attention.

Over ten years of searching, and it has come to this: Luo Binghe is here again before him, his head bowed, holding a small tray holding a cup of tea.

In the other life, Luo Binghe still moved this silently, announcing his presence by making some quiet noise, but never by his own footsteps. The sound of them echoing used to throw Shen Qingqiu into a panic, remembering the Water Prison, and earlier. When Qiu Jianluo’s heavy steps would send dread ratcheting up Shen Qingqiu’s throat as he curled up in his bed in the servants’ rooms, or Qiu Haitang’s.

Now that Luo Binghe has his attention, Shen Qingqiu forces himself to look. To really look. Luo Binghe is scrawny and small, even out of his rags and in Qing Jing Peak’s white and green. In the past, he can now admit he had only ever been able to see the beast of his own self-hatred more than the child himself. It’s disconcerting to see his too-old dark eyes on such a young face. Or how small he is. Thin and malnourished, his cheeks hollow. But he’s smiling with gratitude, and Shen Qingqiu’s heart twists when he remembers how he’d treated that smile the first time around.

The tea is bitter, the leaves scorched, and Shen Qingqiu grimaces at the taste. He sees Luo Binghe tense, a familiar tightening along the muscles of his shoulders that Shen Qingqiu is shamed to remember brought him so much satisfaction, before. He stands, unable to bear it, unable to help himself. And he should restrain himself, he knows that. Showing Luo Binghe too much favor, too much affection in the den of snakes that was Cang Qiong Mountain would only bring the boy a world of grief from his peers, and he’s not about to subject Luo Binghe to his treatment at the hands of the jealous Qiu manor servants. Still, he cannot help but stroke a hand through his hair as he speaks, to peer at his disciple’s small face and wipe the dirt from it.

He holds Luo Binghe’s face between his hands, and it’s only because he’s looking so intently that he catches the ripple that goes through his features. The anger, the hate, the utter bewilderment. He sucks in a breath, and those big black eyes flash glowing red.

Shen Qingqiu feels a stone drop in his stomach just as Luo Binghe wrenches himself out of his grip.

“Shen Qingqiu,” Luo Binghe purrs, in the way that makes the hair on the back of Shen Qingqiu’s neck instinctively rise, his throat closing as Luo Binghe tracks his movements like a cat watching his prey. “So nice to see you again.” He bares his teeth, hungry. Shen Qingqiu glares at him, imperious, refusing to back down even as the chill fingers of fear close around his throat.

“I am your Shizun, Luo Binghe.” he says coldly, violently shoving down his fear. It never served to remember it, when Luo Binghe is concerned. “You will address me as such.” Luo Binghe laughs. It’s high. Just this tinge of hysterical.

He’s scared, Shen Qingqiu realizes. If Luo Binghe had regained his memories similarly to his, he’s both man and boy, trapped in the body of a child. His mind constantly fighting itself on what it should be.

“I don’t remember your ever trying to be my Shizun.” he drawls. “In fact, you were quite adamant that I never call you as such. What changed, Shen Qingqiu?” he steps towards Shen Qingqiu, and Shen Qingqiu refuses to move aside, even though the phantom ache in his limbs scream with warning as Luo Binghe draws closer.

“Did you think I would spare you from your first fate, if you could sell me your affections?” Luo Binghe’s tone is low, mocking. It hurts, but Shen Qingqiu is used to pain, used to enduring.

He’s inflicted far worse on Luo Binghe. He can take the anguish of once again seeing hate in eyes that used to love him so openly. So Shen Qingqiu keeps his back straight, keeps his gaze steady on Luo Binghe’s.

“I never once begged you to spare me from anything.” Shen Qingqiu says coldly. “What makes you think I intend to give you that satisfaction now?”

“Liar,” Luo Binghe hisses. “You were scum in your first life, you’re still scum now.” Shen Qingqiu snaps before he can stop himself.

“And you’re still a little beast.” Shen Qingqiu says coldly. “I’m not denying what I am, are you?” Luo Binghe flinches. Hurt flashing through his expressive eyes, and his lip wobbles even as they curl into a sneer. And Shen Qingqiu’s had enough. He steps forwards, wraps Luo Binghe in his embrace, folding Luo Binghe’s tiny body against his own.

It’s awkward: Shen Qingqiu is unused to touch, and he winces when Luo Binghe’s skinny limbs jab at him in surprise. He almost lets him go, but then Luo Binghe lets out a whine and slumps against him. He’s all skin and bones, and Shen Qingqiu’s eyes sting as he holds him tighter, his small face pressed against Shen Qingqiu’s beating heart.

He’s so vulnerable, a child to be protected and cherished. One that Shen Qingqiu had refused to see as such for far too long. But still Shen Qingqiu cannot stop the resentment that’s as much a part of him as cruelty still is, even as he now tries not to wield it so blindly.

Even in this, you are far luckier than me. Shen Qingqiu pushes down the self-hatred that rises with those thoughts. He cannot stop the poison coursing through his very nature, but he can keep it from seeping out and harming one who had deserved it the least from him. So he holds Luo Binghe tightly when he begins to shake, bracing him when his knees give out beneath him.

“In this life, I’ll make it up to you.” Shen Jiu murmurs as he combs his fingers through Luo Binghe’s hair. Gently, gently, he reminds himself. He’s not used to being kind, or tender. He still has to control himself to not lash out at those who dared to get too close. But Luo Binghe had been the exception that shattered his very being, remade him anew.

Once upon a time, Shen Qingqiu had hated him for it. Now, he bundles Luo Binghe into his lap, against his chest. And even with the memories of two lives, Luo Binghe is still a child. He buries his face in Shen Qingqiu’s robes as he starts to cry.

-------------

After that humiliating display, Luo Binghe half-expects to be sent back to the woodshed he’d spend his whole life escaping.

To his surprise, he isn’t. He falls asleep against Shen Qingqiu, exhausted from the examination and everything that had come after. When he wakes up, he’s alone. Luo Binghe stares blankly at the row of empty beds in the wide, high-ceilinged room he’s in, realizes he must be in Qing Jing Peak’s dormitories. He had only ever seen the inside of it when he was carrying water.

There’s a bundle of things at the foot of his bed, more on his desk. Clothes, books, brushes. Everything that Shen Qingqiu had endeavoured to deprive him of, that first life. Luo Binghe nearly throws them out the window in a fit of rage, but restrains himself. Instead, he breathes out. Thinks.

Obviously, Shen Qingqiu wants to escape his original fate. Luo Binghe frowns as he sifts through his memories. They’re incomplete, some of them simple snatches of thought and sensation, others as freshly painful as yesterday’s memories. He grits his teeth, pushes through them. Shen Qingqiu’s cold gaze as he poured tea over his head, the lash of the whip against his back and the screaming ache of his exhausted, starved body, the sensation of the wind ripping through his hair as he fell into the Abyss, the seething hatred that kept his heart beating as he clawed his way back up to the surface. And when Shen Qingqiu was finally, fully at his mercy -

He pulls back, reeling. His last memories, he realizes as he gulps down breaths to calm himself, are those in the Water Prison. He digs his nails into his palms as he remembers the sensation of rending flesh, of Shen Qingqiu’s screams.

He’ll hear them again this lifetime, he promises himself. When Shen Qingqiu once again shows his true colors, once again gives vent to his cruelty – Luo Binghe has trapped him like a fly in a web before. He can do it again.

… He had fallen asleep in Shen Qingqiu’s arms. Shen Qingqiu must have carried him up here and tucked him to bed. Then he left him alone, to wake by himself. And Luo Binghe feels stupid for feeling upset over that. He’s lucky Shen Qingqiu didn’t pitch him over the side of Qing Jing Peak to his death.

It’s big, and unfamiliar. He rubs at his eyes. Sooner or later this big room will fill up, and he’ll be hard-pressed to find peace. He might as well take advantage of having it all to himself when he can. He lies back down, but his circling thoughts keep him up, as do the fractured memories of his past.

---

Luo Binghe hates him.

Shen Qingqiu can feel his dark eyes on him the moment he enters the classroom, after accepting Qing Jing Peak’s latest batch of disciples. In the past, Qing Jing’s former Peak Lord and Shen Qingqiu’s shifu had forced him to memorize them by reciting them out loud, requiring him to run ten laps around Qing Jing Peak’s base for every error. He does much the same now. His disciples will only thank him for it later, when they’re on the field and their memory of his lessons is what saves them from certain death.

All throughout, he pretends not to notice the intensity of Luo Binghe’s glare from the front of the classroom. Shen Qingqiu had given him a surreptitious glance, found himself pinned by that gaze. He’d kept his expression hidden by his fan but he’s been hyper-aware of the boy’s presence the whole time.

The class ends. He assigns his disciples enough readings to make them groan, if they dared. He knows for a fact that some of them end up weeping hysterically through yet another sleepless night, but Shen Qingqiu’s always been of the opinion that if a student has time to cry or complain, then they have the time to study.

But enough about the others. Shen Qingqiu snaps his attention over to Luo Binghe, who stiffens and glares.

“Luo Binghe, come with me.” Shen Qingqiu says, ignoring the ache in his chest at the sight of the fearful suspicion Luo Binghe is trying so hard to hide. Then he turns on his heel and sets off for his bamboo house.

He already has a second desk set up inside the room that used to be his personal study. Luo Binghe warily hangs back, but at Shen Qingqiu’s sharply impatient glance, he enters the house. The study is lined with shelves upon shelves of books: handbooks on cultivation techniques and sword forms, along with compendiums of demonic beasts rare books on the history of the demon realms and its myriad clans. Shen Qingqiu can still remember the authors who actually gave useful information, often at the cost of their lives.

Luo Binghe’s eyes are wide as he walks around the small library. Shen Qingqiu has his fan open, waving it slowly as he watches Luo Binghe. Luo Binghe steps towards the desk, reaches forwards to fiddle with the inkstone. When it becomes clear he has no intention of talking, that’s when Shen Qingqiu speaks.

“I expect you to study all these, and perform well when I test you.” He says. Luo Binghe glances at him, his expression nothing short of insolent.

“Does Shen Qingqiu expect me to conquer the demon realms anew with this knowledge?” His voice is heavy with irony. Shen Qingqiu presses his lips together, trying not to overtly show how the casual disrespect bothers him. From experience, it will only egg Luo Binghe on.

“I expect you to be prepared.” he says shortly. “Unless you still remember the things you learned the first time around?” Much of them, he had learned in the desperate grapple for surival in the Abyss. Luo Binghe scowls but is silent. Shen Qingqiu snaps his fan shut.

“You don’t, do you?” Shen Qingqiu says with all the frosty scorn he used to berate Luo Binghe with, the first time. “So stop complaining, and study.” Anger flashes in Luo Binghe’s eyes.

“Is Shizun planning on throwing me back into the Abyss, then?” Luo Binghe’s tone drips sarcasm. A thousand and one cruel replies nearly fall from the tip of Shen Qingqiu’s poison tongue. He doesn’t let them.

“I plan on making sure you’re adequately trained,” Shen Qingqiu says shortly. “I’m not sure what aspects of the first life will be a loop we can’t break free from.” He does not, but should have expected how Luo Binghe suddenly walks up to him, so fast that he nearly takes a step back. He is all of twelve years old but the killing intent that rolls off him is as noxious and intense as it was at the Water Prison.

“You were happy enough to let me die, the first time.” Luo Binghe growls. The words are full of spite, but Luo Binghe’s voice trembles with barely suppressed rage. With hurt. “Tell me, Shizun. What changed?” The title drips with mockery.

I did. Because of you. Shen Qingqiu thinks but does not say. Instead, he keeps his words cold as he replies. “Do you intend to do as I say, or must I force you to?” Luo Binghe gives him a rictus grin.

“How? By whipping me until I can’t stand? By forcing me to fetch water up and down the mountain until I can barely walk?” Luo Binghe’s breathing is unsteady. “Shen Qingqiu, what are you playing at?”

“I already answered your question.” Shen Qingqiu snaps. The look on Luo Binghe’s face is bringing up all sorts of unpleasant memories. “If you intend to be an ingrate about it and ignore my well-meaning advice, there’s nothing I can do.”

For a moment, he wonders if Luo Binghe’s going to throw the bottle of ink, or the heavy inkstone at his head and leave. But to his surprise, Luo Binghe reaches for one of the books, then sinks into the seat by the desk. Glowering expectantly at Shen Qingqiu, and Shen Qingqiu exhales. Wills for the slight tremor along his hands to ease as he sits beside his disciple.

“Firstly, we’ll study the political systems of the demon realms,” he starts. “We’ll start with the customs of the Mobei clan of the Northern Realms. They were your closest allies before, and you don’t have a hope of re-conquering your empire without them.” Shen Qingqiu hadn’t missed the friction between Luo Binghe and the Mobei clan, the first time around - Some of it due to Luo Binghe’s lack of knowledge about Northern Demon culture, and Mobei-jun’s unwillingness to share information with outsiders. Or even talk.

Luo Binghe scowls, but grudgingly accepts the scroll Shen Qingqiu pointedly offers to him. He pauses a little when Shen Qingqiu sits opposite him, then wordlessly takes up the ink stick, grinding ink to just the right consistency for Luo Binghe to use. A ritual that he used to loathe when Qiu Jianluo forced him to do it, which now gives him quiet comfort as he does it for someone he loves. Someone he knows he’ll always love, even as Luo Binghe looks away to hide the conflicted expression on his face. Visibly hesitating as he selects a brush from the brushstand, dips it into the ink before starting to take down notes.

As Luo Binghe works, Shen Qingqiu opens his own book of demonology to read and does nothing to stop the well of softness seeping through the cracks in his heart.

It doesn’t matter if you never care for me. Shen Qingqiu thinks as he surreptitiously watches Luo Binghe getting absorbed in the scroll in spite of himself. Hate me as much as you need to. It doesn’t matter to me, so long as you grow up safe and whole.

No matter what happens, that’s a promise Shen Qingqiu intends to keep. He doesn’t fail to see Luo Binghe turn his gaze towards him, tracking him with shadowed eyes in his turn.

------

Shen Qingqiu loves him.

Luo Binghe would have been certain that Shen Qingqiu was simply out to save his own life – why suffer a monster’s hatred when you can buy his affections instead? It only makes too much sense, and Luo Binghe would have scoffed and humiliated Shen Qingqiu for acting like a concubine fallen from favor, promising himself to torment him further, worse than he had ever done once he got his full strength back.

And then Shen Qingqiu had started to grind the inkstick for him, lifting his sleeve out of the way. A small, serious frown of concentration marring his smooth forehead. Luo Binghe is hit by the sudden memory of ripping open Shen Qingqiu’s memories and watching a bitter young boy throw an inkstone at another, human monster, getting beaten for it before taking up a sword and ending a life for the very first time.

He had hidden his reaction behind the scroll, his mouth gone dry. It isn’t even because of that tempting glimpse of his pale wrist, the severe beauty Luo Binghe could never stop himself from stealing glimpses of even as his stomach curdled with loathing. It’s this tiniest of acts done for Luo Binghe himself, speaking worlds more than any grandiose promise.

Shen Qingqiu loves him. And he means it.

Shen Qingqiu has him working right up till the bell for the evening meal rings. Luo Binghe hesitates, then decides the safest thing to do would be to pretend he didn’t hear it. But Shen Qingqiu looks up briefly from the records he had been working on.

“Come back tomorrow, at the same time.” It’s a clear dismissal. Luo Binghe warily watches him as he gathers his things – the books he has to read, his notes. Shen Qingqiu barely spares him any attention, only the movements of his brush betraying that he’s not a figure carved out of jade.

The Luo Binghe of old would have left as quickly as he could, his heart pounding in gratitude that he was spared the whip. The Luo Binghe of now finds himself lingering. Watching Shen Qingqiu as closely as he he knows Shen Qingqiu is paying attention to him, despite his actions to the contrary. Sure enough, Shen Qingqiu speaks.

“Hurry or you’ll run out of food.” Shen Qingqiu says. “Need I remind you that you haven’t mastered inedia yet?” There’s a bite to his voice now. Quiet, but there, along with the strain along his eyes, his gracefully curved neck. The upheaval of the last two days has gotten to him, as well. Luo Binghe finds the corners of his lips curling.

“What if I don’t want to leave?” he asks sweetly.“Will you make me?” Shen Qingqiu’s jaw tenses, the way it always did whenever he perceived Luo Binghe was challenging his authority. Except now Luo Binghe actually is doing it, and if Luo Binghe’s suspicions are correct, he’s not exactly going to be able to do anything about it. Luo Binghe carefully edges out of the way of a possible slap, and to his delight, Shen Qingqiu visibly forces himself to relax.

Shen Qingqiu glares at him, though his expression isn’t quite so severe anymore. No doubt he’s noticed Luo Binghe’s little experiment. Luo Binghe gives him a bright, sunny smile.

“I think I’ll stay here.” Luo Binghe says silkily. “If I make my way up to the dormitories, Ming Fan’s probably made sure I won’t have food left.” Luo Binghe doesn’t try to hide his smugness as Shen Qingqiu’s glare sharpens It’s true, anyway. Ming Fan had been sending him poisonous glances whenever Shen Qingqiu wasn’t looking.

Shen Qingqiu slams his brush down, and only Luo Binghe’s self-control keeps him from jumping. A brief, strained silence, and Shen Qingqiu sighs.

“You’re an incorrigible brat.” Shen Qingqiu mutters as he pushes himself up from the desk. But he sends a message to the kitchens via talisman, and Luo Binghe knows a victory when he’s scored it. Even though it takes a while for his heart to stop its unsteady, fearful pounding.

The meal is a quiet one. Luo Binghe barely tastes it, though it’s not much of a loss – Qing Jing Peak’s cuisine remains as dull as he remembers it. More fascinating for him are Shen Qingqiu’s quick bites, neat and elegant, seemingly unhurried but he clears his bowl in a little over half the time Luo Binghe takes to finish his.

Luo Binghe’s moving without thinking. He plucks the last vegetable dumpling from his own serving and places it in Shen Qingqiu’s empty bowl, Only when he sees the strange look that Shen Qingqiu gives him does he notice what he’s done.

Luo Binghe would flush if he had any shame left, but the Abyss burned most of it out of him. So he holds Shen Qingqiu’s gaze, his lips tilted up in amusement, trying to hide how hard his heart is beating.

Shen Qingqiu’s expression softens – just like it did during their first meeting in this life, and Luo Binghe gapes at him as Shen Qingqiu lifts the dumpling to his lips and eats it. Two quick bites and it’s gone, and Luo Binghe holds himself very still as Shen Qingqiu reaches into his pocket for a handkerchief and slowly – giving him the time to move away, which he doesn’t - reaches forwards to wipe at his mouth with it.

“You have some rice here.” The brush of the handkerchief is very gentle, very light against Luo Binghe’s lips. “You cannot be a disciple of Qing Jing Peak and appear so slovenly.” Shen Qingqiu’s warmth lingers even as he takes his hand away

“Finish up and go rest. You’re tired and it’ll be another long day tomorrow.” Shen Qingqiu tells him. As Luo Binghe stares dumbly at him, the softness in his eyes doesn’t fade.

Luo Binghe is too rattled to do anything but obey. It’s only on the way back to the dormitory that Luo Binghe remembers this is the first time he’s eaten with someone, after his mother’s death.

Shen Qingqiu loves him. Luo Binghe laughs and laughs until his eyes are stinging, desperately searching his memories for traces of a past he can’t remember.

---------

Luo Binghe grows up.

Shen Qingqiu carefully oversees his development. He’s as fast a learner as he’s always been. Unhampered by Shen Qingqiu’s own spite and malice, his cultivation improves by leaps and bounds. What took Shen Qingqiu years to master, he learns in a month. Sometimes, mere weeks.

Shen Qingqiu watches him with a mixture of resentment and pride. Longing, as well. Not just for the heights he knows Luo Binghe will achieve that are forever barred him even in this lifetime, but also for Luo Binghe himself – the adult Luo Binghe, and his memories of a life they’d shared. One that doesn’t stop abruptly at pain.

Shen Qingqiu had hoped that Luo Binghe wouldn’t remember. That when Shen Qingqiu finally found him, he would be able to show that innocent soul the care he’d always denied him, without the agony of the past on the boy’s own shoulders. But of course, the gods weren’t going to let Shen Qingqiu off so easily from his own sins. Not even when his worst had been done to Luo Binghe himself.

Luo Binghe isn’t about to absolve him just like that, either. Luo Binghe looks up from the cultivation manual he’d been studying, looking dissatisfied. It’s one of the densest texts in Cang Qiong Mountain’s library, and even Yue Qingyuan had found it difficult to master. When he was new to Cang Qiong Mountain, Shen Qingqiu had rashly tried once, promptly sent himself into a qi deviation that kept him bedridden for three weeks.

Luo Binghe deliberattely closes the manual and sets it aside. Shen Qingqiu knows what he’s going to ask for before he even says it.

“I want the fake manual you had Ming Fan give me.” Luo Binghe says without preamble. Shen Qingqiu frowns, but before he can voice his disapproval, Luo Binghe presses on.

“I’m half-demon, remember? It worked for me because I have two spiritual systems.” Luo Binghe grins. A sweet smile, but all of a sudden Shen Qingqiu feels as alone as he’d been in the Water Prison.

“Despite your attempts to kill me with it.” Shen Qingqiu doesn’t flinch, but the ribs of his fan dig into his clenched fist.

“I’m not risking your spiritual systems being impaired.” He says coldly. Luo Binghe’s smile widens.

“Can’t risk them being impaired or can’t risk my getting stronger?” He asks. Shen Qingqiu is silent. It’s an effort to hold his gaze, even as Luo Binghe’s smile turns into a sneer.

“I think Shen Qingqiu will agree it’ll suit my nature more than an ordinary manual ever will.” he says brightly. Shen Qingqiu refuses to be intimidated. He stares Luo Binghe down coolly, acquiesces.

He’s not entirely certain what Luo Binghe must have been expecting, but Shen Qingqiu is still petty enough to feel a ripple of satisfaction at how his expression flickers.

The handbook itself had come from Wu Yanzi – one of his old moneymaking schemes before he had Shen Jiu to do his dirty work for him, and it’s a while before he tracks a copy down. Luo Binghe takes it, flips through it with the eagerness of someone who had found an old, lost treasure he’d never expected to find again. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t know what to feel about that, as he sits across him.

“I’m curious, though. Why did it take you so long to recover it?” Luo Binghe’s words are light, but there’s an uncanny sharpness to his expression. Shen Qingqiu, not for the first time, curses the boy for his astuteness. He keeps his fan open as he speaks.

“It didn’t belong to me, this time.” Shen Qingqiu says. In fact, it had come from the belongings of a demonic cultivator who’d been freshly executed. Shen Qingqiu had stared at the corpse – that of a young woman his age or younger, it had been hard to tell with the stark lines hardship had carved into her face - who had allegedly killed Wu Yanzi before treading the same footsteps – then quietly paid off the executioner into giving her a proper burial.

“So you didn’t train under Wu Yanzi?” Luo Binghe asks curiously. Shen Qingqiu’s shoulders stiffen.

“No.” he says, gritting his teeth. He has no reason to lie, or hide, but he almost wishes he did as Luo Binghe’s too young, too-old gaze tracks his movements. “I didn’t burn down the Qiu manor, either.” Though it had still burned to the ground with Qiu Jianluo inside it, thanks to him stupidly refusing to pay his servants properly. Luckily Shen Qingqiu and Qiu Haitang were already far, far away when it finally did happen. Qiu Haitang had mourned her brother, but she was the only one who had.

“So don’t think Qiu Haitang will testify against me, or that the Old Palace Master will find a way to throw me into the Water Prison.” Shen Qingqiu says steadily. Luo Binghe gives him another one of his strange, unnerving smiles.

“So Shen Qingqiu’s conscience is clean, this lifetime. I have to congratulate him for managing to let it stay so better than the last.” A lifetime ago, Shen Qingqiu likely would have beat him blind for his insolence. Now, it’s with tired recognition that he sees his own anger and rage festering in Luo Binghe, exploding outwards before it ate him from the inside.

“It’s not.” He says simply. Because it’s true, anyway. The weight of the past is a pall he can’t escape, no matter the different choices he’s made this lifetime. He still can’t bear to be near an open flame, still can’t sleep without nightmares of fire or being torn apart. The times he sees her, Haitang-jie’s open smile is one that he never feels like he deserves, after everything he’d put her through. Even when he’s with Yue Qingyuan, when he’s among the Peak Lords, Shen Qingqiu knows he’s only pretending, that he has never once belonged.

Luo Binghe, as always, serves as the constant reminder of that. A sore wound that Shen Qingqiu’s given up on healing, both lifetimes. In the old life, they had gotten good at treating each others’ hurts, at letting them breathe through the pain they had inflicted on each other – Luo Binghe more than Shen Qingqiu, most of the time.

Now, Shen Qingqiu finds himself doing it alone for the both of them. He’s not about to give up, though. Not when Luo Binghe needs him so much. Luo Binghe can try to push him away, can try to let fall barbed words aiming to hurt, to get Shen Qingqiu to lose patience. Shen Qingqiu’s not going to stop taking care of him.

To Shen Qingqiu’s surprise, the following day has Luo Binghe arriving at the bamboo house with a lacquer box of dragon’s beard candy. Shen Qingqiu feels his chest squeeze, knowing full well that Luo Binghe made those sweets himself. Luo Binghe has next to no spare time from morning till night. He must have gotten up early to coax the kitchens into letting him make these sweets, if he’d even slept at all.

Shen Qingqiu glances up, not sure how to react. Luo Binghe looks back at him like a wolf tracking prey that can turn on it just as easily. Just as wary, and distrustful. Probably expecting to have the box thrown at his head, or worse. And Shen Qingqiu still finds touch unbearably awkward when he initiates it, but he’ll do anything to get that awful look away from Luo Binghe’s face. So he slowly, stiffly lifts his arms up and wraps them around Luo Binghe so that Luo Binghe’s held against his chest, his big eyes blinking. The top of his curly head tickles Shen Qingqiu’s chin, and after a moment of hestitation, Shen Qingqiu lifts a hand and passes it through his hair.

You’ve gotten taller, Shen Qingqiu thinks as he holds Luo Binghe. Stronger, too. He would likely tower over Shen Qingqiu even higher than he had in the past, in more ways than one. And he’d be lying to say he doesn’t mind, but he thinks to himself he’ll be fine with it so long as Luo Binghe still allows himself to be held like this. As Luo Binghe leans fully into his embrace, his cheek against Shen Qingqiu’s heartbeat, not moving away until Shen Qingqiu does.

The next afternoon, Luo Binghe has another box of sweets with him. His expression is once again wary, but so full of hopeful need. And even though it’s a struggle, Shen Qingqiu finds it in himself to try to be gentle.

It’s always worth it, when Luo Binghe’s eyes brighten as Shen Qingqiu accepts his gift. When he steps forwards and engulfs Shen Qingqiu into his embrace. As Shen Qingqiu awkwardly strokes his hair – noticing with yet another pang that Luo Binghe has grown almost too tall for Shen Qingqiu to rest his chin comfortably on top of his head - he can only hope it’ll be enough.

------

Luo Binghe learns.

The special attention Shen Qingqiu pays Luo Binghe is not something any other Qing Jing disciple would call favor – Luo Binghe regularly finds himself with more work than anyone else, gets called to be tested more often than his peers, at a level more difficult than the other disciples are expected to achieve. Even Ming Fan as he is now - jealous and petty enough that Luo Binghe still fantasizes about throwing him into a pit of ants - is satisfied with Luo Binghe being run so ragged every day that he doesn’t give him much trouble.

Despite the workload that has Ning Yingying offering to talk to Shen Qingqiu out of concern- though she’s quick to assure him it’s because their Shizun thinks so highly of him - it’s still a breeze for Luo Binghe compared to his old life. And this relative ease is what discomforts him.

He finds himself tracking Shen Qingqiu’s movements, tensing up whenever he approaches too close, too quick. Waiting for a blow that doesn’t come, for his old tormentor to string him up in a woodshed to whip him and leave him for hours. And it’s this waiting that’s interminable. He almost wishes Shen Qingqiu would just snap and start beating him again.

He doesn’t. Not even when Luo Binghe lingers for too long after dinner, Luo Binghe leaning against him too close, for too long. Their shoulders brushing together as Shen Qingqiu lets him soak up his presence. Not even when Luo Binghe prods and pokes and tries to get a reaction out of him with what he remembers could rile him up like nothing else in the Water Prison – his own words, his very presence.

Shen Qingqiu has… changed. That was the only other word for it. He’s still the tyrannical Qing Jing Peak lord, but he’s no longer the petty bully determined to assert his authority over his disciples. When it becomes clear that Luo Binghe is off limits, he actually makes an effort to control Ming Fan and the disciples desperate to find another to scapegoat.

His relationship with Yue Qingyuan has markedly improved as well (and this change is admittedly the one Luo Binghe likes the least). More than once, Luo Binghe has chanced upon Yue Qingyuan’s presence in the bamboo house. The Sect Leader always excuses himself shortly after asking solicitious questions about Luo Binghe’s health. He’s always kind, always magnanimous, but Luo Binghe can hear the veiled warning in every word. Over a lifetime too late, as Luo Binghe smiles and gives him his own pointedly barbed responses.

“Does he remember?” Luo Binghe asks one afternoon.

“No, he doesn’t.” Shen Qingqiu says shortly. “I told him everything.” That makes anger curdle hotter in Luo Binghe’s gut. Along with the jealousy.

“What changed?” Luo Binghe asks. Curious, in spite of his own seething jealousy. “Didn’t he promise to save you, then abandon you?” Shen Qingqiu’s shoulders are stiff.

“I waited longer,” he says sharply. “He came back.” It’s the closest he’s ever come to the way he used to speak to Luo Binghe. That same anger, that warning. Luo Binghe wants to hear more of it.

“Not soon enough to save your cultivation.” he says, bracing himself for the blow.

It doesn’t come. Shen Qingqiu’s fingers curl into fists, which he keeps firmly by his sides. Luo Binghe wants Shen Qingqiu to hit him, just as much as he wants him to run his hands through his hair.

“Luo Binghe.” He expects poison, but Shen Qingqiu’s voice is soft. “You’re both important. Stop being jealous.” He pauses before adding. “And stop trying to get me to hit you. I’m not going to do it.” Luo Binghe flinches, a little. Shen Qingqiu does not look away.

Luo Binghe’s not sorry, not exactly. But he finds himself standing up and going over to Shen Qingqiu’s seat, then throwing his arms around him. Partly a challenge to see how long before Shen Qingqiu will shove him, slap him away. Except he doesn’t. He never does. He just lets Luo Binghe hold him, and when Luo Binghe’s very lucky, he holds Luo Binghe back in turn.

This time, he expects Shen Qingqiu to hold still, too upset at what he said to reciprocate. To Luo Binghe’s surprise, Shen Qingqiu passes his hand through his hair. Like he’s accepting Luo Binghe’s unspoken apology.

The tension along Shen Qingqiu’s shoulders eases. Luo Binghe does not let go of him even then, and Shen Qingqiu doesn’t pull away either.

Over and over again, Luo Binghe tries to remember the past Shen Qingqiu so clearly does. Over and over again, he fails. His memories stop at the Water Prison, at tearing Shen Qingqiu’s limbs away for the first time, the second time, the third. And unlike when he still remembered Meng Mo’s cultivation techniques, there’s none of his thoughtforms to tear at in frustration. Just a blank wall that try as he might he can’t tear down, in his mind.

But just because he can’t pierce through that blank wall, doesn’t mean Luo Binghe is completely barred from the past. Or at least, what he guesses the past must have been, and what he should do accordingly. Luo Binghe wakes up in the middle of the night to the sound of rain lashing against the windows, and the walls of the dormitory creaking against the onslaught of a massive storm.

The walls of Qing Jing Peak are reinforced with seals, so he’s not worried about the whole edifice being blown away. He’s more concerned about the sound of the rain. The sound of sheets of water, driving down. Too much like the Water Prison. Luo Binghe sits bolt-upright, a lump rising in his throat. Outside, lightning crashes, and a quiet certainty surfaces in his mind. He won’t be sleeping at all.

Not unless… Luo Binghe’s out of bed and pulling on his robes before he completes that thought. He slips out of the dormitory into the rain, he barely feels the cold.

---

As the rain falls, Shen Qingqiu tosses and turns. Rainy nights are always the most difficult for him, these days. Before, it was cold winter nights where he had no choice but to light a fire if he didn’t want to die of hypothermia. Now, it’s nights where the rain falls in sheets, a relentless outpouring of water that has cold stone and metal burned into his mind like the memory of pain.

He has half a mind to go to the Warm Red Pavilion, but the thought of arriving there like a bedraggled rat has him wincing in distaste. Not to mention how Luo Binghe will probably react if he hears he was ever there. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t exactly expect him to take it any better than he did the first time around, though he had the grace to let Shen Qingqiu sleep through the ruckus while he smilingly threatened the terrified madame into never letting Shen Qingqiu return again.

He’s about to drop off into another bout of fitful sleep when he hears soft breaths. Familiar ones. Shen Qingqiu pushes himself up in bed, suddenly wide awake.

“Luo Binghe.” Shen Qingqiu says, not knowing whether to be relieved or irritated at being disturbed. “What are you doing here?” Exhaustion has him reaching for Luo Binghe’s shoulder without thinking. To his dismay, he feels icy, soaked cloth beneath his palms, the faintest bit of a tremor along strong shoulders.

“You’re soaked-” Shen Qingqiu says, both annoyed and alarmed. Luo Binghe shrugs despite the chill.

“It’s storming.” he says, and Shen Qingqiu grits his teeth in exasperation, pushes himself up from his bed and reaches for Luo Binghe’s arm. Luo Binghe lets him take it, lets him drag him to the folding screen which separated his dressing space from the rest of the bedroom. There, he tosses a drying cloth at Luo Binghe, as well as a set of sleeping robes.

“Don’t come out till you’re decent, you little beast” Shen Qingqiu grumbles, turning away and heading back to bed. Luo Binghe emerges absurdly fast, Shen Qingqiu’s robes rolled up his ankles and wrists, his hair a damp, fluffy cloud as he climbs onto the side of Shen Qingqiu’s bed and crosses his legs, bold as you please.

Shen Qingqiu feels his heart give a little catch, and glares at him to hide it. “You’re doing a hundred laps around Qing Jing’s base tomorrow morning.”

Luo Binghe gives him a slightly malicious grin. “You know I can do double that without getting tired.” Shen Qingqiu snorts.

“Two hundred and fifty, then. Say anything else and it’ll be five hundred.” He pulls the blanket over himself, deliberately turns his back to Luo Binghe. “Go back to your dormitory when the rain stops. If Ming Fan catches you, he has my permission to have you hauling water all day.”

“If he catches me.” Shen Qingqiu doesn’t have to look at the little brat to know he’s grinning. He resists the urge to do something as undignified as rolling his eyes.

“Do what you wish. You still need to wake up early to do those two hundred and fifty laps.” He snaps peevishly instead. As always, Luo Binghe ignores him.

“You weren’t sleeping well, were you?” It’s not a question. Shen Qingqiu stops breathing for a moment.

“Why do you ask?” Luo Binghe shrugs. It’s a movement Shen Qingqiu can just barely discern through the dim lantern light.

“It’s raining.” Luo Binghe cocks his head to the side, like he’s studying him. “The Little Palace Mistress once told me that the few people who were ever released from the Water Prison, were too broken to ever tolerate the sound of running water ever again.” Shen Qingqiu has to remind himself to keep breathing through lungs suddenly gone too tight. “I wondered: is Shizun the same way?”

There’s cruelty, there, but Shen Qingqiu is used to cruelty anyway. More importantly, he’s far too tired to play Luo Binghe’s games.

“Why are you calling me Shizun now?” he asks quietly. Luo Binghe does not answer. Shen Qingqiu presses on. “You didn’t walk down a mountain trail through a storm just to torment me.” Luo Binghe suddenly looks every bit his age: just a boy of fourteen, in robes far too large for him. Shen Qingqiu sighs.

“If I say yes, will you let me sleep?” He takes a little petty satisfaction at the blink of surprise this gets from Luo Binghe.

“I will.” Luo Binghe says slowly, into the silence. “If you let me watch over you.” Shen Qingqiu’s throat aches.

“Watch all you want, then.” he says as indifferently as he can, pulling himself together. “There’s nothing interesting about a sleeping man.” He lies back down.

“Not when it’s you.” he hears Luo Binghe say, through hearing gone muzzy with drowsiness. Shen Qingqiu still finds it in himself to speak.

“Then stop making so much noise,” he mumbles. Luo Binghe is quiet.

“Your eyes are already half-closed,” he says. Wondering, like he’s never seen Shen Qingqiu stupid with sleep before. He should say something about it, but he’s sinking into the warmth of his bed, the warmth of Luo Binghe’s presence, and without quite realizing it, he’s closed his eyes and fallen into the deepest sleep he’s had in years.

When he wakes, it’s to the heat of a small figure, burrowed against his side. He blinks, disoriented. Luo Binghe has his arm thrown haphazardly over his chest, and his nose is smushed against Shen Qingqiu’s collarbone. His hair is still slightly damp, and Shen Qingqiu frowns. He must be freezing.

He really should be getting up – it’s already getting light outside. But it’s raining, it’s cold, and Shen Qingqiu’s mind is fuzzy. Shen Qingqiu curves around Luo Binghe, tugging the blankets over them both. Hehesitates for a moment before dropping a kiss against Luo Binghe’s forehead.

As he closes his eyes and slips back under, he doesn’t notice Luo Binghe’s open, blinking in bleary bewilderment as the drowsiness clears from his gaze. Still, he doesn’t move, and the rain falls outside as he curls up against Shen Qingqiu’s sleep-warm body, studying his peaceful face.

For the first time in his life, and his memories of the first, Luo Binghe is content. He closes his eyes and burrows closer into Shen Qingqiu’s warmth.

Outside, the rain falls.

------------------

Shen Qingqiu is still asleep when Luo Binghe wakes up. The first thing he notices is how bright the sky is – deep blue, gold sunshine everywhere, though the air remains pleasantly nippy from the recent storm.

The only reason he gets up is because. Well. He has urgent business to attend to, being a teenage boy who’s just spent the night beside the most beautiful man he’s ever desired. Luckily it’s cold, though it takes a great deal of effort to let it subside. He doesn’t dare do anything more, with Shen Qingqiu such a light sleeper. And he doesn’t particularly want to be kicked out of the bamboo house indefinitely, there’s so much he wants to do.

His robes are completely soaked, but he indulges himself in the thrill of wearing Shen Qingqiu’s clothes, tying up the sleeves so they won’t get in the way. It helps that he’s shot up like a young tree - soon he’ll be towering over his Shizun again. The thought fills him with satisfaction as he gets to work.

He hauls water for bathing and cooking, taking care not to slip in the mud outside, and begins to prepare breakfast. He’s stirring congee when he hears Shen Qingqiu wake, and begin moving around. To Luo Binghe’s delight, Shen Qingqiu emerges in his sleep-rumpled glory, yawning.

His eyes are bleary. His hair is a mess and he’s wearing his overrobe over his shoulders, letting it hang loosely. It’s the least put-together that Luo Binghe has ever seen Shen Qingqiu, in any lifetime. Of course, he’s used to being alone. Luo Binghe muses. He wonders if Shen Qingqiu is always like this during mornings: charmingly bedraggled and in need of a morning cup of tea. A gift for Luo Binghe alone to see.

He stops when he sees Luo Binghe, surprise making his eyes go wide. Luo Binghe instinctively tenses. Shen Qingqiu’s glacial expression doesn’t get any warmer but his eyes - his eyes reveal everything else.

“Didn’t I tell you to start running laps as punishment for sneaking out of your dormitory? What are you still doing here?” The words have their usual bite, but there are traces of a telltale crinkle along the corners of his black eyes. Emboldened, Luo Binghe relaxes and gives him a cheeky grin.

“Don’t worry, Shizun. I’ll do it.” Luo Binghe says cheerfully. “You didn’t say I had to do it immediately, though. So before that, I’m making you congee.” A ripple of surprise goes through Shen Qingqiu’s face, too fast for him to hide.

“Congee?” he asks, hesitant. Hopeful. Luo Binghe looks at him intently.

“Have I ever made it for you before?” The question hangs heavy in the air. There were only a precious few people that Luo Binghe ever cooked for (most of them members of his harem), and he’d been painfully conscious of that when he was preparing sweets for his Shizun.

But if he ever cooked for Shen Qingqiu before… Well. It puts the past in an altogether different light. One that finally has it making sense, while opening up even more questions.

Shen Qingqiu doesn’t answer immediately, and Luo Binghe’s questions burn on his tongue as he sets the table and serves Shen Qingqiu, then himself. The meal is a quiet one. Shen Qingqiu clears his bowl in less than several minutes, wordlessly allows Luo Binghe to refill it. Something about the silence feels precious, and Luo Binghe doesn’t try to break it.

Instead, he waits until Shen Qingqiu’s eaten his fill. Luo Binghe sets his empty bowl down, tries not to appear so on edge when he sees Shen Qingqiu lift his – perfectly brewed -cup of tea to his lips. Shen Qingqiu of course catches it, sets it down and reaches for his fan, spreading its ribs open as he avoids Luo Binghe’s gaze.

Might as well be direct. “We were married, weren’t we?” Luo Binghe asks. Shen Qingqiu is silent. It’s all the confirmation he needs. Luo Binghe pushes down the lump in his throat.

“Was our marriage that bad that you don’t want to speak of it?” Luo Binghe hates how much he sounds every second of fourteen years old right now, changing voice and all.

“No-!” Shen Qingqiu’s head jerks up, looking upset. Almost affronted. “We were-” He trails off, swallowing. “We were happy.” His voice breaks, and Luo Binghe stares.

Shen Qingqiu’s hand holding the fan twitches up, desperate to hide his expression, but Luo Binghe’s grabbing his wrist before he can think of it, keeping it down. Shen Qingqiu tenses, but before Luo Binghe can let him go – remembering the last time he’d grabbed onto Shen Qingqiu like this – he relaxes in his hold. Lets Luo Binghe touch him, unbothered by the memories of the Water Prison. Of how Luo Binghe had done his damnedest to destroy him. As if he’s used to him doing so, trusts him not to hurt him.

Which he does, Luo Binghe thinks in disbelief mingled with longing. Impossibly enough. Never mind that Luo Binghe’s own memories are nothing but pain and rage, the rankness of the Water Prison stickiness of Shen Qingqiu’s blood, his tearing flesh. Luo Binghe’s head spins.

“How?” Luo Binghe finds himself choking out. “Are your standards for happiness truly that low?” Given what Luo Binghe’s seen of his boyhood, he wouldn’t be surprised. Shen Qingqiu flinches, and Luo Binghe blurts out.

“How are you not afraid of me?” Shen Qingqiu’s expression is tired as he responds.

“Ask yourself that same question, Binghe. How are you not afraid of me?” Luo Binghe swallows at the sound of his given name, how casually Shen Qingqiu says it. Like he’s so used to saying it that the intimacy never crossed his mind.

“I am, all the time.” Luo Binghe says, jarred into honesty. Not a day goes by when he doesn’t tense up at Shen Qingqiu’s approach, wondering if this is the day his Shizun will start hurting him again. He never does, but it’s a fear that Luo Binghe knows has been ingrained in him for too many years to fade.

“I know,” Shen Qingqiu says gently. So gently, so full of sadness, of regret that Luo Binghe would resent him for it if he could. “I am too, sometimes.” he breathes out, going silent for a moment.

“But I want you by my side, much more than I’m still sometimes afraid of you.” Shen Qingqiu’s words are halting, like he’s tearing them out of him. Luo Binghe damn near stops breathing as they ring in his ears. Shen Qingqiu’s face is naked with emotion that he tries to look away, to hide, but Luo Binghe makes a small noise and he stops. His wrist is warm in Luo Binghe’s grasp, and Shen Qingqiu makes no move to pull away.

Because Shen Qingqiu wants to be there. Because Shizun wants him. Because he remembers being loved by Luo Binghe, and he remembers loving him. And he still does, all the way back to this strange new life of theirs. Enough to protect him. To care for him. To do everything he should have done from the beginning, even after all that Luo Binghe himself had done to him.

Luo Binghe lets out a small sob, and Shen Qingqiu makes a muffled noise as he damn near knocks him over. But he steadies him, holding him close and tight. Cradling his face between his hands, and Luo Binghe feels like he’s drowning but Shen Qingqiu is holding his head above the water. And he should struggle, should get away, but instead he relaxes. Trusting Shen Qingqiu to protect him instead of dragging him down. Or pushing him in.

They hold each other for a long time. Luo Binghe is the one to pull away first, only to grasp Shen Qingqiu’s hand between both of his and pressing his mouth to his knuckles.

“I’m going to marry you again.” Luo Binghe says earnestly at Shen Qingqiu’s surprised glance. “If I became your husband in our first life together, then I’ll become an even better one this time.” Shen Qingqiu’s expression is nothing short of unimpressed.

“Little beast,” Shen Qingqiu says, sounding tired but sarcastically amused. He doesn’t pull away his hand, either. “You’re fourteen. Barely more than a child, and you’ve been spending most of your time with me since I’ve been keeping you busy with cultivation techniques. You really think your heart won’t change in ten years’ time?”

“I know it won’t.” Luo Binghe says stoutly. “I won’t even look at anyone else, either. Shizun…”

“Why do you always call me Shizun when you want something from me?” Shen Qingqiu mutters. Luo Binghe is unrepentant. He gives Shen Qingqiu’s hand a squeeze. His heart leaps when slowly, Shen Qingqiu squeezes back.

“I’ll cook for you everyday, with enough for seconds.” Luo Binghe falls back on his old line, wheedling. It’ll probably get him slapped around the head with a fan, but it’s worth it to see the incredulous yet soft look on Shen Qingqiu’s face. Luo Binghe wants to kiss him. He has never hated being fourteen again this much, this very second. He settles for placing Shen Qingqiu’s palm over his chest instead.

Shen Qingqiu sighs.

“I forgot how stubborn you are when courting.” he says quietly. Luo Binghe’s ears perk up, but Shen Qingqiu does not elaborate. He’s quiet for a few minutes longer until he looks up.

“Give it time.” Shen Qingqiu is silent for a moment before speaking again. “In eight years’ time… if you don’t hate me. Ask me again.” His gaze has gone dark, conflicted. Luo Binghe nearly protests why should I wait so long, then he remembers the Immortal Alliance Conference. The Endless Abyss opening. Xin Mo.

Shen Qingqiu had devoted all his time and energy to preparing Luo Binghe for it, but he had always silently hoped things had changed enough that those events wouldn’t come to pass. His throat closes up at the memory, at the possibility. The fear. And then he feels Shen Qingqiu tugging his hand away, then once more sweeping him up into his arms.

“Don’t be afraid,” he murmurs against Luo Binghe’s hair. “I’ll help you. I’ll protect you.” Luo Binghe feels his eyes sting as his heart pounds at the memory of being pushed in, of falling deep into the dark with no one to help him, to save him.

“Don’t let me fall, Shizun.” Luo Binghe whispers. “Don’t throw me away.” Shen Qingqiu’s expression is pained as he wipes the tears away from Luo Binghe’s face. Luo Binghe hadn’t even noticed he had begun crying. They don’t stop even as he presses his cheek against the steady thrum of Shen Qingqiu’s heart.

Shen Qingqiu does not answer with words, but the kiss he presses to Luo Binghe’s forehead as he tightens his arms around him is answer enough.

–

The years pass. Luo Binghe grows up.

Shen Qingqiu watches over him. At the same time, he rights the mistakes of his own past. As happy as Shen Qingqiu would be to execute the little lying sneak of a bastard Shang Qinghua with his bare hands, he can’t afford to alert the network of spies the demons had doubtless embedded into Cang Qiong Mountain and the other sects. Instead, Luo Binghe helps Shen Qingqiu identify his network by befriending the beleaguered disciples of An Ding Peak.

It’s quick work to corner Shang Qinghua afterwards. Yue Qingyuan invites him to Qiong Ding Hall, smiling pleasantly while Shen Qingqiu glowers at him behind his fan. Shang Qinghua bows and scrapes and smiles, and then the color drains out of his face when Yue Qingyuan politely asks him to send a message of friendship and peace to the Mobei clan.

Shang Qinghua disappears promptly afterward – to hell, Shen Qingqiu hopes- but Yue Qingyuan’s message is accepted. At least, Luo Binghe assures them it is when an emissary arrives bearing a treaty made of shimmering ice, engraved with a message written in what Shen Qingqiu is certain appears to be human blood. Yue Qingyuan sends it back with several amendments more equitable to Cang Qiong Mountain, and after some back and forth receives a seal carved from the same ice. The Mobei clan did not enjoy wasting words, and as a peace agreement Shen Qingqiu supposes it suffices.

Whether it’ll have any appreciable effect on the Immortal Alliance Conference… Shen Qingqiu will just have to keep his eyes open, alert for any signs of betrayal.

The Ling Xi caves incident still happens, though this time both of them survive. Citing his concerns over the dangerous levels of qi in the caves Liu Qingge had last been seen entering, Shen Qingqiu had brought Mu Qingfang with him, along with Qi Qingqi. He’s not about to risk Yue Qingyuan having to draw Xuan Su if subduing Liu Qingge proved too dangerous, but grudgingly accepts it’s doubtful he and Mu Qingfang will have the strength between them to manage it. At least if there’s no escaping death for Liu Qingge, his sister’s Shizun can tell her the whole truth.

His foresight is rewarded. Liu Qingge survives, just barely. Shen Qingqiu probably derives too much sadistic glee in blasting his meridians with qi to keep them flowing properly. He leaves Liu Qingge’s twitching figure to Mu Qingfang and Qi Qingqi’s tender mercies, then goes straight home.

Luo Binghe takes one look at him, and he’s helping him inside. Shen Qingqiu waves him away as he changes out of his singed and slightly bloodied robes. Luo Binghe hovers all day, until Shen Qingqiu loses patience and has him sit beside him after he brings him his afternoon cup of tea. Which Luo Binghe promptly does, just as promptly placing his head on his lap.

“You’re getting far too big for this,” Shen Qingqiu murmurs as he strokes Luo Binghe’s hair. Luo Binghe makes a small noise and clings more tightly to Shen Qingqiu’s waist.

“Does Shizun want me to stop, then?” He mumbles, teasing. Normally Shen Qingqiu would snort and maybe give him some mildly spiteful punishment for his audacity. Now, with everything being thrown into uncertainty, and the Immortal Alliance Conference looming in barely two years’ time, Shen Qingqiu finds himself in contemplative silence even as he gathers Luo Binghe closer to him with a soft sigh.

Luo Binghe is growing up, and what Shen Qingqiu still fears the most in this life is being left behind by someone he loves.

“Shizun?” Luo Binghe looks up. Shen Qingqiu’s breath catches at the open trust he finds there. He doesn’t flinch away even when Shen Qingqiu moves to cup his cheek in his hand.

“Stay with me for a little longer, Luo Binghe.” Shen Qingqiu murmurs. Please don’t grow up so soon. Luo Binghe nods, holds Shen Qingqiu’s palm against his cheek.

“If I could, I would stay with Shizun forever.” he says. Shen Qingqiu feels a sharp, sweet pang at that. Luo Binghe grins at him, and snuggles closer.

The next morning, Shen Qingqiu wakes up to a very reproachful message from Mu Qingfang and Bai Zhan Head Disciple Jue Ji. Instead of returning to the dormitory like he’d promised, Luo Binghe had mowed through Bai Zhan’s disciples overnight, sending them flooding to Qian Cao Peak. Luo Binghe himself is mostly unscathed, already preparing breakfast and brimming with satisfaction.

Shen Qingqiu had given Jue Ji a maliciously pointed smirk behind his fan. “Perhaps if Liu-shidi spent more time training his disciples instead of cultivating by himself, they wouldn’t be so easy to beat while their master’s laid up from a qi deviation.” Then he shuts the door in their faces to join Luo Binghe for breakfast.

Here, with Luo Binghe play-acting the perfect disciple yet unable to hide his own mirth, Shen Qingqiu wishes, not for the first time, that time would stop. That he could keep Luo Binghe with him like this for always.

But time stops for no one. Months later, Shen Qingqiu smells smoke, hears the clash of weaponry. And he knows that no matter how he had tried to halt it, stall it, or change it - Luo Binghe’s story has begun in earnest, and the only thing he can do is keep turning the pages.

--

Luo Binghe is afraid.

He hides it well. The days slip by him, one after the other and far too fast. Some days pass by honey slow and sweet, the quiet rhythm of his and his Shizun’s life uninterrupted and peaceful. But there always comes sharp, brutal reminders that this peace is borrowed, that a storm is fast-approaching beyond the horizon.

Sha Hualing attacking Cang Qiong Mountain is one such reminder. She’s just as Luo Binghe remembers her as she sends her lackeys to challenge Shen Qingqiu, eventually taking on Liu Mingyan. But unlike before, he pays no attention to both of his former wives. Instead, he’s watching Shen Qingqiu’s face. The tension along his brow that has nothing to do with the actual battle and everything to do with what was to come.

The Elder Sky Hammer challenges him, as expected. Luo Binghe fully turns towards Shen Qingqiu then.

“Shizun,” Luo Binghe bows. “This disciple wishes to fight for you.” He puts quiet emphasis on for you. Shen Qingqiu turns towards him, his expression cool.

“Luo Binghe, see to it that you do not disappoint this master.” Shen Qingqiu says. Luo Binghe grins at him before turning towards his opponent. They begin to circle each other, and Luo Binghe is gratified to see the flash of surprised trepidation on the Elder Sky Hammer’s face as he suddenly attacks.

He wins, of course. The battle turns as ugly, as it did originally. But with Liu Qingge’s sudden arrival, they engage Sha Hualing and her forces without needing to wait for Yue Qingyuan. But just before they succeed in driving them out, the unthinkable happens.

He doesn’t know how it happens. The Elder Sky Hammer had attacked him a second time – which hadn’t happened in the other life – and then he’d charged at Luo Binghe, the spikes of his armor gleaming with poison, too fast for him to dodge. The next moment, there’s a flash of green and Xiu Ya slides through the demon’s chest.

The Elder Sky Hammer collapses. Shen Qingqiu drags Xiu Ya out of its corpse, turns towards Luo Binghe. The first thing Luo Binghe notices is how pale he looks. The second is the blood dripping from his wrist and forearm.

Luo Binghe sees red. The look in Shen Qingqiu’s eyes is dark, and Luo Binghe can hear the unspoken command for what it is: Finish this.

As always, Luo Binghe obeys his Shizun. He mows through the demons, driving Sha Hualing and her lackeys out. He doesn’t even notice Liu Qingge’s arrival in the middle of the fray, and Yue Qingyuan’s earlier than expected return.

Only when the last few stragglers have left Cang Qiong Mountain screaming, or dying, does Luo Binghe stop. He rushes towards Shen Qingqiu, standing still and watching all, and when Luo Binghe’s arms are around him to keep him safe, only then does he collapse.

---------

There is no time to do anything else. The demon’s spiked armor pierces Shen Qingqiu’s flesh as he blocks him from reaching Luo Binghe, and all Shen Qingqiu can do is grit his teeth as pain explodes in his hand, along his arm.

His pain is not the only thing that overwhelms him. There’s a blast of killing intent so strong that it nearly knocks Shen Qingqiu off his feet. Shen Qingqiu looks behind him to see Luo Binghe. He’s furious, and Shen Qingqiu has to remind himself to keep breathing.

He glowers at Luo Binghe, the pain starting to intensify as the poison spreads but still he forces himself to keep standing. To watch Luo Binghe as he turns towards Sha Hualing’s group with a look of so much animal rage on his face that even the young demon saintess visibly quails.

And then Shen Qingqiu sees blood. Hears screams, the sound of running water. He can hear shouts from a blazing manor, intense heat licking at his skin. Red eyes, a rictus grin. Pain. So much pain.

The poison raging through his hands suddenly intensifies to a nauseating degree, and as warm arms reach for him, Shen Qingqiu willingly gives up the ability to stay upright. As he falls to the ground, Luo Binghe’s frightened face is the last thing he sees before he loses consciousness.

He wakes to white gauzy curtains, his skin tacky with sweat. There is someone prodding at his meridians, and Shen Qingqiu shudders at the sensation of another’s qi coursing through his body against his will. He grasps blindly, intent on digging his fingers through the eyes of anyone who dares to fucking touch him without his permission, but his fingers aren’t moving right and neither is the rest of his body.

“Qingqiu-shidi?” Shen Jiu tries to see where Qi-ge is, but he’s too disoriented to make sense of his surroundings. Warm fingers brush against his cheek. Shen Qingqiu whimpers, and his eyes focus to see Luo Binghe beside him, Qi-ge with a worried frown on his forehead. He relaxes immediately in their company, but the calm is short-lived when he sees Liu Qingge watching them with his arms crossed.

Shen Qingqiu scowls. It fades when Luo Binghe draws his attention back to him, blocking Liu Qingge from looking at him.

“Shizun…” Luo Binghe whispers. “How are you feeling?” Memories trickle back in. The attack. The battle. His panic at seeing his disciple cornered. The sensation of agony ripping through his hand.

“Ah, Shen-shixiong’s awake.” Mu Qingfang’s voice floating in. The flow of qi stops. Mu Qingfang must have been inspecting the damage to his meridians, if any. And there is damage. As Shen Qingqiu struggles to sit up with Luo Binghe’s help, one look at Mu Qingfang’s face and Shen Qingqiu’s stomach plummets.

The poison coating the Elder Sky Hammer’s armor was called “Without a Cure”, and its worst effect was the damage it caused to its victim’s spiritual system, permanently impairing their cultivation. Shen Qingqiu reins back the anguish and rage both, painfully aware of the subtle hitch of Luo Binghe’s breathing, the way he carefully edges away from Shen Qingqiu, likely unconsciously.

Liu Qingge grudgingly offers to help clear his meridians. Shen Qingqiu gives him as poisonous a glare as he can muster (the look Luo Binghe gives Liu Qingge is a close second) but accepts – if only to keep Yue Qingyuan from offering first. Powerful as Qi-ge may be, his life force is still entwined with Xuan Su, Shen Qingqiu’s not willing to risk him weakening himself for his sake.

His only source of satisfaction is that Liu Qingge seems as miserable with the arrangement as he does. Mu Qingfang seems pleased that a sound solution had been found so quickly. Yue Qingyuan looks worried, but then again he’s always worried. Shen Qingqiu waves them off tiredly, tells them to let him sleep, he’ll be seeing them tomorrow.

That leaves him and Luo Binghe, alone in the bamboo house. Luo Binghe steps back at the sight of his resentful glare, and Shen Qingqiu freezes, then wrenches his gaze away.

None of this is Luo Binghe’s fault, he reminds himself. The anger ebbs away as Luo Binghe watches him warily, from a safe distance. Shen Qingqiu forces himself to relax his features, and gradually Luo Binghe calms. He approaches him but holds back, moving carefully like he’s eyeing a feral animal liable to lash out and bite.

Shen Qingqiu sighs, careful not to make any sudden movements as he turns towards the boy.

“Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu says, as gently as he’s capable of. “I’m not angry at you.” And he’s not, not truly. He’s more angry at himself for being unable to think of a better way to neutralize the Elder Sky Hammer. But if he hadn’t acted on time, it would have been Luo Binghe laid out on this bed with his head smashed in. Shen Qingqiu’s not inclined to find out if his disciple’s regeneration powers would work in such a situation, needing to witness too many similar situations in their old life was bad enough.

His remaining anger evaporates, leaving only exhaustion. Luo Binghe must sense it, because his face brightens and he edges closer, within reach.

“How is Shizun feeling?” he asks tentatively. Shen Qingqiu sighs, forces himself to relax despite the lingering tension he can feel.

“Tired.” Shen Qingqiu says flatly. “Poisoned. What do you expect, you little beast? Did I raise you to ask idiotic questions?” The harshness of his words are belied with his moving aside, just enough to make more room for Luo Binghe. Luo Binghe, of course, takes full advantage of the opportunity, his expression the height of innocence.

“Next time, I hope Shizun’s tiredness will be from more pleasurable reasons.” The look Shen Qingqiu gives his disciple is deeply unimpressed. Luo Binghe had been wont to say such indecent things, but coming from a child of fifteen, the very words sound ridiculous. Shen Qingqiu swallows back a laugh. In spite of the fact his spiritual system has been crippled, he relaxes all the way, reaching over for his fan with stiff fingers and rapping Luo Binghe soundly on the head with it.

“I’d rather you ensure that there won’t be a next time,” he tells his disciple shortly. “Lest you embarrass my Peak.”

He’s expecting some lewd innuendo or other that would merit an even harder slap with his fan. He doesn’t expect Luo Binghe to reach forwards and – very gently - clasp his bandaged hand between his own.

“Shizun, I won’t,” Luo Binghe says. “I really, really won’t. I promise.” Any moment and he’ll be kissing every bit of his hand in fervent supplication. Shen Qingqiu’s face warms and he tugs his wrist hastily out of Luo Binghe’s grip, pointedly ignoring his disciple’s pout of disappointment.

“I expect you to train harder to make up for this,” he says shortly. “Remember that I’ll be putting up with that brute once a week for your sake.” Luo Binghe scowls. Shen Qingqiu really should not feel so smug at that.

“I’ll give those Bai Zhan brats two beatings apiece for every day you have to see him. And then him, eventually.” The cheeky brat’s eyes glimmer. “You won’t really need him for long, though. Qin Wanyue was struck with the same poison, and well. Apparently it does have a cure.” It takes Shen Qingqiu a while to remember just what that cure was.

He recoils, and Luo Binghe flinches back, his eyes wide. Shen Qingqiu glares at him, mouth sour with disgust, but not at him.

“And reveal yourself to the world as a half-demon at this early stage?” He says, harsher than he means to be. Luo Binghe’s smile disappears like he’s been slapped. Shen Qingqiu curses himself, his own acerbic tongue, his inability to not hurt this boy who had always deserved it the least.

But Luo Binghe just holds Shen Qingqiu’s hand up to his lips again.

“Shizun, I don’t care.” he says pleadingly. “If it can help you, I’ll reveal myself to the world.” Shen Qingqiu’s heart aches even as he lets Luo Binghe press his palm against his cheek. “And Zhangmen-shibo won’t let any harm come to you. If you need me to jump into the Abyss right after -”

“Luo Binghe, don’t.” Shen Qingqiu says sharply. Angrily. Luo Binghe’s pleading expression is exactly like the one on his face before Shen Qingqiu had pushed him into the Abyss. The memory of his own horrible relief he’d felt as the boy fell into the dark without anyone seeing, without anyone realizing Shen Qingqiu had given a demon shelter burns him from the inside, and his hands feel filthy with ash and dried blood.

“Don’t say such pointless things.” He speaks into the heavy silence. “I’m not treating you like Qin Wanyue. You’re not a thing to be used.” The words feel heavy on his tongue, and he feels like a hypocrite for even saying them. He’d certainly used the boy to vent his own rage often enough in the past.

“So what am I here for, Shizun?” Luo Binghe asks. His expression is gentle. Dangerous. Upset. “What can I do to actually help you?” Now it’s Shen Qingqiu’s turn to go quiet. It stretches on, and Luo Binghe makes a noise of frustration. Shen Qingqiu speaks before he can.

“I need you to survive the Abyss,” he says at last, his voice frigid. “Everything else can come after, whether it happens or not. But first, you need to get stronger so you won’t be slaughtered the very moment you fall in.” He sounds too brittle, too strained with the weight of holding his own heart, his own fear open. Luo Binghe’s expression shutters, and Shen Qingqiu knows he’s said the wrong thing again.

“Why are you so convinced it’s going to happen again? Haven’t things changed enough?” Luo Binghe’s voice cracks. “Why does it even need to happen?” Again, he sounds entirely too much like the way he had begged Shen Qingqiu to spare him, at the Abyss, and Shen Qingqiu pushes down the lump in his throat at the memory. “Can’t I just stay here, with you?”

Shen Qingqiu looks him in the eye when he speaks. Slowly, cruelly. “You know you can’t.”

Luo Binghe blanches. Shen Qingqiu forces himself to keep looking at his crumbling expression, forces himself to keep speaking despite how it feels like he’s tearing his own limbs off to see the hurt on Luo Binghe’s face. “You’re a half-demon. You really think the other sects won’t besiege Cang Qiong Mountain and slaughter us all just to get to you?” He twists his mouth into a sneer. “You and I both know what it’s like to be powerless, you little fool. Do you want to experience it again?”

It’s the simple answer. Cruel and breathtakingly simple, no less painful than the real answer: Because Shen Qingqiu had always been keenly aware that Luo Binghe’s cavernous need for his love and approval was what spared him, was the reason Luo Binghe remained by his side. An eternal child trapped in Shen Qingqiu’s grasp the way Shen Jiu was a child trapped in that prison cell waiting for Qi-ge to come save him. And all Shen Qingqiu wants in this new life, in this second chance is for Luo Binghe to grow up whole. Even if he loses Luo Binghe, even if Luo Binghe returns from the Abyss changed and terrible in his power, no longer needing his old Shizun… Even if he no longer comes back -

Even though Shen Qingqiu keeps his expression cold and pitiless, he feels his breath catch in agony. At least Luo Binghe will survive, safe in his own power. Power that had always been his birthright, and which Shen Qingqiu had done his damnedest to stifle in the past.

For Shen Qingqiu, that’s enough.

It isn’t, for Luo Binghe. The silence drags on for too long. Luo Binghe sneers. But his wet eyes belie his own devastation.

“You play at loving me so well that I almost forgot what scum you are.” Shen Qingqiu stiffens, his injured hand itching to slap Luo Binghe for his ingratitude, but he curls his hand into fists and holds back. Lets Luo Binghe lash out at him with all his hurt.“Don’t worry, Shen Qingqiu. I took all your old lessons to heart. I wouldn’t dream of letting anyone else have power over me. Most of all you, no matter how well you’ve tried to ingratiate yourself to me.” He turns away but not before Shen Qingqiu can see how red his eyes are.

Before Shen Qingqiu can unloosen his fingers and reach for him, he leaves. The door slams shut behind him, and Shen Qingqiu is left alone. Shen Qingqiu forces himself not to go after him. He doesn’t trust himself not to say the wrong thing again, hurt him worse.

When Shen Qingqiu finally drifts off to fitful sleep, he finds himself in all-too familiar place. The sound of water everywhere, the dank smell of rot and old blood, the chilling echo of footsteps.

Shen Qingqiu feels very cold. His throat clots in panic as he looks around him, cold fingers of awareness running up his spine, and Shen Qingqiu whirls around to see an old man watching him with a lively, malicious gaze.

“What are you doing here?” Shen Qingqiu snarls. He doesn’t bother with introductions, this can only be one person anyway. And even though Luo Binghe had assured him he’d willingly let the dream demon in to aid his cultivation, sheer fury still overtakes Shen Qingqiu at the thought of this parasite burrowing deep into a consciousness, a body that’s not his, that belongs to Shen Qingqiu-

“Ah, you’re here.” Meng Mo says. He pauses before adding. “Nice to see you have all your limbs intact.” Shen Qingqiu’s lip curls.

“You remember me?” Meng Mo gives him a shrewd once-over, stroking his beard.

“Not precisely.” He says, his ancient eyes sizing Shen Qingqiu up, and Shen Qingqiu wants very badly to put them out. “It’s more I’ve already pretty much seen everything there is to see.Every version of you two. Everything that happened in your past, everything he doesn’t know about his own. Realms overlap the most in dreams.” He grins.

“Don’t worry, I’m not telling him anything. I’m not fucking getting involved in whatever mess you two have going on.” But his expression is curious, even as he meets Shen Qingqiu’s steely glance.

“Where is Luo Binghe?” Shen Qingqiu asks sharply. Meng Mo snorts.

“Tucked in his own bed after crying himself to sleep.” Shen Qingqiu ignores the sick swooping sensation at that. “The brat remembers me, so it didn’t take that much convincing on my end to let me teach him my techniques.” He sounds altogether too smug, and Shen Qingqiu has never wanted to stab someone in the gut so much, not even Qiu Jianluo.

“Why are you here?” Shen Qingqiu snaps. “Come to gloat that you’ve sunk your claws into my disciple?” Meng Mo rolls his eyes.

“Stop giving me that look. I’m not the one who spent his boyhood beating him.” his brow furrows into a bitter scowl. “He’s still refusing to call me Shizun, so good for you.” His expression as he meets Shen Qingqiu’s steely glance is frustrated. Envious.

“Why don’t you just let the brat be my disciple? My methods probably suit him far better than yours, anyway.” Shen Qingqiu rears back and snarls.

“He’s not yours.” Meng Mo leers at him.

“And he’s yours? Or the other way around? I gotta admit, I’ve seen the things he did to you, the things he still wants to do to you, you’re really better off just leaving him with me-”

Whatever Meng Mo is about to say is cut off by Xiu Ya’s light nearly ripping through him. He squawks in alarmed outrage.

“You- how did you learn that?” He splutters. Shen Qingqiu glares at Meng Mo, his fingers grasping his sword’s handle.

“You really think I gave myself to him without learning how to defend myself first?” Shen Qingqiu asks acidly. Meng Mo gawps at him, then glares. Then, he suddenly sighs.

“Why am I such a soft touch for that unfilial little brat.” he mutters. Shen Qingqiu, to his chagrin, understands this sentiment perfectly. “Teaching my clan’s secret techniques to outsiders while refusing to acknowledge me as his Shizun – Ptah!” Despite his ire, he sighs, shaking his head.

“Oh well. Given what I’ve seen, I guess that brat’s too much trouble than he’s worth, anyway.” He shakes his head, then jabs his finger at Shen Qingqiu.

“You might as well listen to what I have to say. I’ve seen what you’re doing: you can’t prevent it.” Meng Mo says heavily. Shen Qingqiu’s heart plummets. “Any of it. Don’t even try, you’re just going to make it worse.” He peers closely at Shen Qingqiu, who sneers.

“And why would I listen to you, the parasite who wants my disciple for himself?” Shen Qingqiu says acidly. Meng Mo shrugs.

“Believe it or not, I’m saying this for both of your benefit.” He says frankly. “I’ve seen things unfold enough times to know there’s no escape for the brat. You won’t be able to get out of being the one to do it to him, either.”

“You’re lying. I won’t.” Shen Qingqiu whispers. Don’t throw me away. Meng Mo shrugs.

“You always do. No matter how much you might promise him. Or yourself.” He vanishes before Shen Qingqiu can lunge at him, leaving him alone, Xiu Ya quivering in his hand.

No matter what you do, this is your fate. As Xiu Ya tears through the walls of the Water Prison, Shen Qingqiu feels his own limbs start to bleed.

Shen Qingqiu jerks awake and Luo Binghe flinches. His hand is outstretched, like he’d been about to wake Shen Qingqiu up, and Shen Qingqiu flinches back. His limbs burn, and he scrabbles up, feeling far too vulnerable as he lies prone before Luo Binghe.

“You looked like you were having a nightmare.” Luo Binghe says after a tense silence. “You wouldn’t wake.” Shen Qingqiu breathes, then his wild eyes settle on the tray Luo Binghe had set on the nightstand – far enough out of reach that there was no risk of Shen Qingqiu knocking it over with his thrashing. It’s something that he also used to do in their previous life. On the tray is a bowl of steaming congee, along with a pot of tea and a cup. Just one of a thousand little loving gestures that Luo Binghe regularly showers him with, that in both lifetimes Shen Qingqiu never really felt he could pay back.

Shen Qingqiu tears his gaze away from the tray, numbly reaches forwards to tug Luo Binghe into his arms. Luo Binghe buries himself in them, his nose pressed against his shoulder. His nails are digging into Shen Qingqiu’s shoulders but he doesn’t care. He embraces the pain as Luo Binghe presses his face against his throat, his every limb trembling.

“Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu murmurs hoarsely as Luo Binghe clings to him, passing his hands through his curly hair. His tongue feels too heavy, too clumsy in his mouth, but he forces words past his lips because Luo Binghe needs to hear them. “Everything I do, I do for you. Please understand-” He’s shoved back and met with a furious gaze, teeth bared like they’re ready to rip through his throat.

“What else do I have to understand?!” Luo Binghe shouts, so loud that Shen Qingqiu’s almost deafened with it. His hands grip Shen Qingqiu arms bruising tight, fingers encircled where scars used to ring his fragile flesh. Shen Qingqiu struggles, but Luo Binghe just tightens his grip.

“Do you know what it’s like? For me to love you so fucking much that I’m ready to do everything you tell me to?” Shen Qingqiu sucks in a breath. Luo Binghe glares at him with eyes gone glassy with tears, shoving him like a child shaking a ragdoll in frustration.

“Everything you ask for, I’m willing to do it! Because I want you to be happy!” Luo Binghe’s voice is rising. His cheeks are hot between Shen Qingqiu’s palms, and Shen Qingqiu’s heart snaps clean in two as Luo Binghe shudders and leans against his touch, reaching for the hand that got injured and smearing kisses on it.

“I want Shizun to be happy!” Luo Binghe looks agonized. His mouth is hot against Shen Qingqiu’s palm. “I want you to be proud of me! And you’ll be proudest of me when I throw myself into the Abyss for your sake!” A laugh bubbles up out of him, a terrible sound full of pain, awful to hear. Shen Qingqiu’s nails sink into Luo Binghe’s scalp.

“Binghe, calm yourself.” He snaps with all the authority of Qing Jing’s Peak Lord. Luo Binghe glares back at him, every bit the tyrant Emperor he was in their past. Then, to Shen Qingqiu’s horror, his face crumples like a small child’s, and he starts to cry.

They’re huge, heaving sobs, exactly like his tears when he found his way back to Shen Qingqiu. Shen Qingqiu’s hands immediately fly up to wipe his tears, drawing back when Luo Binghe instinctively flinches. One moment, and Luo Binghe’s in Shen Qingqiu’s arms. Sobbing against Shen Qingqiu’s increasingly soaked chest while he keeps a death grip around his waist. Shen Qingqiu carefully places a hand against the back of Luo Binghe’s head, and Luo Binghe reaches up, roughly grasps his fingers in an iron grip that is just this shy of painful.

“Can’t you hate me like you used to?” Luo Binghe chokes out through his tears, muffled against Shen Qingqiu’s chest. “It’ll be easier -” It peters off into an anguished howl that would send any other listener fleeing, but Shen Qingqiu just cradles Luo Binghe more tightly.

“Why would I give you the easier option?” Shen Qingqiu whispers against his hair. “I love you, too. That’s your burden to bear as much as mine.” His voice cracks. “Do you really think my training you was for myself? It’s for you.” He grasps Luo Binghe’s palm and places it over his chest, over his beating heart.

“All of it is for you.” Shen Qingqiu holds Luo Binghe’s gaze as he wipes at his wet face. “I love you. I want you to survive. I’ll do all I can to make sure you do.” he curves his fingers around Luo Binghe’s cheek. “So tell me, Binghe: Is that too much to ask?”

Is it too much to ask for you to come back to me? Shen Qingqiu doesn’t say the last part aloud, but Luo Binghe cries harder than he did his first day here. Like then. Shen Qingqiu holds him all throughout. Up until his sobs subside and he curls up quietly in Shen Qingqiu’s arms.

------

It’s your fate.

Luo Binghe keeps Shen Qingqiu in bedrest all day, by the simple expedient of laying his head on his chest and keeping him from going anywhere. Yue Qingyuan has him banned from the classrooms for several days. Shen Qingqiu would normally grouse and push himself harder out of spite at his own body, but for now he’s quiet as he strokes Luo Binghe’s hair.

This strained, gentle impasse continues all day, even through their meals. Luo Binghe shakes his head when Shen Qingqiu urges him to go back to the dorms, glaring at him so darkly that he sighs and lets him stay. Shen Qingqiu sleeps poorly that night, but Luo Binghe holds his hand and he settles back down. Luo Binghe watches over him, and he doesn’t feel tired at all.

Luo Binghe breaks the silence the following day, at breakfast.

“I’ll do it, then.” Luo Binghe says, staring at his empty bowl. “I’ll do everything you ask me to.”

Shen Qingqiu silently refills it with rice, watching his expression closely. Luo Binghe’s eyes don’t leave his bandaged hand. He remembers the sick swoop of helpless despair he’d felt as he’d been unable to protect Shizun. He remembers his mother, dying of disease while he begged the masters for s simple cup of congee.

He remembers the past life. How quickly people had turned on Shizun once they deemed him a threat. How Luo Binghe had abetted it from those desperate to curry favor from him. He’d always known that they would be just as quick to turn on him had he not been strong enough. But equally stone-cold certain is his realization that this time around, his enemies will not hesitate to hurt Shizun first.

The helplessness turns to anger, turns to resolve. Shen Qingqiu’s hand suddenly covers his.

“Binghe.” Shen Qingqiu says so softly. Luo Binghe loves him so much he wants to claw his heart out and offer it to him whole.

He does the next best thing. “I’m doing it for you.” Luo Binghe interrupts him. “Everything. You’re mine. I’ll do whatever it takes so no one can dare hurt you again, even if I have to go back to hell.”

He nearly bites his tongue, thinking he might have gone too far. Shen Qingqiu’s expression darkens, turning conflicted.

“Luo Binghe. If it’s your fate to descend, it’s equally your fate to claw your way up and find me again.” Shen Qingqiu says fiercely, squeezing his hand. “Do not disappoint me.” Luo Binghe shakes his head.

“Never,” he promises. And for once, Luo Binghe doesn’t only see the wasteland of five years before him, but the bright shape of Shen Qingqiu, waiting for him at the end.

---------

Shen Qingqiu’s curriculum intensifies. Now all of Cang Qiong Mountain’s disciples are required to attend additional classes on demonology, as well as punishingly difficult practical training on the ground. Not even Ning Yingying and her pleading looks are spared, and Qing Jing Peak becomes even more renowned for its miserable students.

Shen Qingqiu does more than train his disciples. Shang Qinghua resurfaces and makes a surprisingly competent diplomat – though Shen Qingqiu snidely remarks the fact he can hide behind his demon lord is what makes him a bolder negotiator. But there are more pressing matters to consider. Namely, the Immortal Alliance Conference.

“Safeguards have been made,” Yue Qingyuan assures him when he drops by Qiong Ding Hall. “The other sects have been warned of a possible attack, and have heightened security measures. Xiao Jiu, there’s no need to worry so much.”

Shen Qingqiu exhales.

“That’s not the only thing I’m worried about.” he confesses quietly.

The prowess Luo Binghe had shown during the attack had brought the attention of the other sects who had heard about the incident. Namely, the Old Palace Master. He had paid Qiong Ding Hall a courtesy call shortly afterwards, ostensibly to pay Yue Qingyuan his sympathies and to talk about the strategies the Four Sects could use against the demon realm – Cang Qiong Mountain’s relationship with the Mobei clan had been received with mixed reactions, and Huan Hua Palace was its biggest detractor.

But the way the Old Palace Master’s eyes had lingered on Luo Binghe spoke of other intentions, entirely. Shen Qingqiu had had to resist the urge to use Xiu Ya’s point to dig out his eyes. He would have kept Luo Binghe out of sight entirely, but some supreme bad luck had caused Luo Binghe to drop by Qiong Ding to look for Shen Qingqiu after a short mission in a nearby town. The Old Palace Master had looked shocked to see him, and then commenced fawning.

It’s your fate. You’ll make it worse if you actively stop it.

Unlike then, there’s nothing the Old Palace Master can use against him, except his past as a slave. Shen Qingqiu can survive the humiliation of that. But if he dares use anything of Luo Binghe’s past against him in a bid to keep him in his power -

Shen Qingqiu will personally ensure Qiu Jianluo’s first fate would look like a kind one compared to what he’ll do to that filthy old man.

“You really think Head Disciple Su was Luo Binghe’s mother?” Unlike Yue Qingyuan, Shen Qingqiu had never met the woman. He can dimly recall her name upon the lists of past Immortal Alliance Conferences, but upon seeing the Old Palace Master’s reaction, it’s only now that Yue Qingyuan could put two and two together. Now, Shen Qingqiu is holding the disparate pieces of information together and seeing the whole sordid sorry tale for what it is.

“The Tianlang-jun incident… I think back on it quite a lot.” Yue Qingyuan says at length. “There was always something.. off about the circumstances surrounding it. I was only a disciple then, and Tianlang-jun was a dangerous individual, so I tried not to dwell on it at the time. But now…” he trails off.

“It does make sense. The Old Palace Master’s pride was wounded, so he decided to ensure Su Xiyan and her lover could never be together. To his bad luck, Su Xiyan must have somehow ensured he could never have her, anyway.” Whatever it was had resulted in her casting her son adrift along an icy river, so Shen Qingqiu cannot consider it any real victory.

He does, however, know desperation intimately well. He can recognize the act of a fellow trapped animal, saving her young with the only means left to her.

He sees Yue Qingyuan off. It’s only because Shen Qingqiu’s so attuned to his presence that he hears Luo Binghe. Luo Binghe is watching him silently from the doorway. Shen Qingqiu wonders how long he’d been listening in.

“Luo Binghe.” Shen Qingqiu murmurs softly as Luo Binghe drops down to his knees beside him. Luo Binghe sighs and leans closer against Shen Qingqiu, and immediately slots their hands together. Shen Qingqiu allows it, just like he allows Luo Binghe to nuzzle his face against his shoulder.

“All right, you little beast. For how long were you eavesdropping?” Shen Qingqiu’s words hold no bite. Luo Binghe shrugs.

“Long enough.” he says. He doesn’t look surprised. Shen Qingqiu remembers that brief conversation they’d had, where Luo Binghe had mentioned being born of a Huan Hua Palace disciple and a heavenly demon father. He hadn’t gone into detail, and Shen Qingqiu had refrained from asking, knowing too well the burden of a past he hadn’t wanted anyone to know.

“Can we not talk about the Immortal Alliance Conference?” Luo Binghe says abruptly. “Or anything, really. I just want to be with you.” Shen Qingqiu makes a soft hum of assent.

But just because Luo Binghe doesn’t wish to speak about it, doesn’t mean it’s not weighing down on him. Shen Qingqiu reaches forwards to be able to hold Luo Binghe better, and Luo Binghe buries his face against his shoulder. The tension along his spine and shoulders relax as he sinks into Shen Qingqiu’s embrace.

Luo Binghe presses closer to him. Shen Qingqiu has never been one to pray, but he can only hope Su Xiyan is watching over her son, still, helping Shen Qingqiu prepare Luo Binghe for all that is to come. All that Shen Qingqiu cannot stop.

---------

Luo Binghe prepares.

He learns as much as he can, perseveres under Shen Qingqiu’s hellish new curriculum when his peers break. He takes on more and more missions, especially difficult ones involving demons. Shizun always goes with him, carefully laying out the best strategy that would get them to victory with minimal casualties, carefully guiding Luo Binghe into planning his own when he deems him experienced enough.

Throughout the whole time, Luo Binghe watches Shen Qingqiu. Stays close to him. Touches him whenever he can. He moves himself into the bamboo house despite Shen Qingqiu’s token protests, ensures no one can complain by getting the Sect Leader himself to agree it’s for Shen Qingqiu’s health. Luo Binghe insists on Shen Qingqiu flying with him, unwilling to risk his meridians failing when he’s midair on Xiu Ya, and takes far too much delight in holding Shen Qingqiu’s prone figure to his when Without a Cure causes his spiritual energy to fail.

After each session with Liu Qingge, Luo Binghe is there to soothe the tension from Shen Qingqiu’s spine, distract him from the unwanted qi circulating through his meridians. After a year and a half of watching Shen Qingqiu suffer through nightmares, Luo Binghe’s had enough.

He shows up at Qian Cao Peak unannounced, drags an indignant Mu Qingfang with him to Bai Zhan Peak. Liu Qingge is “instructing” the Bai Zhan disciples at the training field when Luo Binghe arrives. He scowls when he recognizes Luo Binghe, and it deepens when Luo Binghe bows to him and asks him for a fight.

“Don’t bother. I know Shen Qingqiu. I doubt he’s taught you properly.” Liu Qingge grunts. Luo Binghe’s smile turns bladed. It’s all the warning he allows Liu Qingge before he attacks.

The battle takes all of three hours. By the end of it, Luo Binghe is bloodied and battered, and Liu Qingge looks significantly worse. The entirety of Cang Qiong Mountain is gathered around the training field. The other Peak Lords are all at the front, but Luo Binghe only has eyes for the slender figure in teal standing who had shoved his way through the crowd to stand beside Mu Qingfang, pitch-black eyes watching him from behind a fan.

He feints, meets Shen Qingqiu’s eyes, and grins. Shen Qingqiu’s eyes widen as Luo Binghe practically blasts Liu Qingge off his feet with the force of his spiritual energy, sending the ground around them exploding in whirls of dust. Luo Binghe takes advantage of Liu Qingge’s distraction to disarm him, the point of his sword aimed at his throat.

Dead silence. Luo Binghe digs the blade in, pointedly, looks up to where Shen Qingqiu is watching, smiles. Then he turns to Mu Qingfang.

“Now, will you let me be the one to clear Shizun’s meridians?” he asks Mu Qingfang brightly. Mu Qingfang gives Yue Qingyuan a helpless look, and Luo Binghe knows he’s won.

“Looks like Luo Binghe’s spiritual energy is more than up to the task.” Yue Qingyuan says pleasantly. Luo Binghe’s grin widens at the look he catches Shen Qingqiu giving his martial brother behind his fan.

He closes it, but does not bother even glancing at Liu Qingge. “Liu-shidi would do well to not be so arrogant to presume I neglect my disciples. Unlike him, I actually endeavour to teach my students things of worth.” His attention is on Luo Binghe alone. For once, at the sight of Shen Qingqiu reaching for him, Luo Binghe does not tense up.

They speak little as they head back to the bamboo house. There, Shen Qingqiu sighs as he guides Luo Binghe down on his chair. Takes up the medical kit and wets a piece of cloth with the stinging medical ointment Qian Cao Peak makes and starts dabbing at Luo Binghe’s scrapes and bruises.

“Your face is going to be black and blue.” Shen Qingqiu says tersely. Before he can move away, Luo Binghe lets his head fall against Shen Qingqiu’s shoulder with a groan.

“Liu Qingge is going to look way worse.” He mumbles. “Did I do well, Shizun?” Shen Qingqiu snorts.

“Don’t forget who it was that taught you everything you needed to beat that brute to the ground.” He says, but he sounds pleased. Luo Binghe’s smile widens.

“Of course, all of my victories are Shizun’s. Does that mean I did well enough to get a kiss?” Luo Binghe asks hopefully. He expects to be turned away with a scoff, or a flat look. He doesn’t expect Shen Qingqiu to lean forwards, to brush his soft lips against his forehead.

It’s so light. So soft and gentle. Luo Binghe can barely feel it. Still, his heart thumps painfully in his chest. Shen Qingqiu moves away, but not before Luo Binghe lifts his head to fully brush their lips together.

“Luo Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu breathes. Luo Binghe carefully gauges the look on Shen Qingqiu’s face. His lips tingle. In this life, this was his first kiss. Shen Qingqiu’s too, by the way he touches his fingers to his mouth.

Shen Qingqiu looks away, his throat flexing as he swallows. Luo Binghe licks his mouth, suddenly so hungry for more. But there’s tension along Shen Qingqiu’s brow, and Luo Binghe withdraws before he can feel cornered.

The silence between them stretches on, but Luo Binghe feels no dread. He waits for Shen Qingqiu to collect himself.

“Shizun, your meridians…” Luo Binghe trails off, uncertainly. Shen Qingqiu hesitates for a moment, then wordlessly gives him his wrist. Luo Binghe slowly – giving Shen Qingqiu time to pull away if he’s unwilling - presses his lips against the back of Shizun’s hand. The hand that always used to hold the whip, before. The one he’d willingly allowed injured to protect him from the Elder Sky Hammer.

Shen Qingqiu doesn’t pull away. His eyes remain calm, warm. Luo Binghe smiles at him, then kisses his hand again, carefully guiding his qi in. Shen Qingqiu hisses a little, but doesn’t retract his hand.

Luo Binghe has done this for plenty of his wives, but this is the first time he’s ever felt this strange familiarity and overwhelming sense of home. It’s like when he and his mother returned to their little house after a long day of washing clothes, Luo Binghe guiding her along slippery streets as they talked and laughed. Like when Luo Binghe slips out the dormitory in the dark to make his way to the little bamboo house.

Luo Binghe takes his time exploring; part of his awareness remains within his body, but the greater part of it with his Shizun, within his Shizun. Following him, his hand tucked in his. Luo Binghe soothes old, scarred channels of energy, encourages rills of it to branch off away from worn-out paths. He keeps his hands steady on Shen Qingqiu’s wrist, reinforces the brittle burn of Shen Qingqiu’s golden core with qi.

Hello, I’ve been looking for you everywhere. You’re finally here. Luo Binghe’s at the edge of the Abyss, Shen Qingqiu’s eyes cold as he pushes him into the yawning maw. He’sholding Shizun’s hand, Shizun guiding him along a rocky precipice and making sure he won’t fall. Luo Binghe’s shaking as the whip cracks against his back, biting his tongue bloody to hold back the cry of pain. He’s tearing flesh from flesh, laughing in delight at the screams he hears, the terror in black eyes he used to dread. He’s watching those same black eyes blink awake at him, hazy with drowsiness, soft with longing.

Luo Binghe’s smirking as Shen Qingqiu’s bound by Immortal-Binding cables, seething with resentment at how his head is still held so high. Then he’s carrying a small boy, tucking his face against his shoulder to keep him from seeing the manor burning behind them,soothing his fear.Luo Binghe’s hair is damp with tea, the bamboo floor digging into his knees, cold and alone. Then he’s being wrapped in a gentle embrace, words of contrition and regret whispered into his ears.

Luo Binghe is smirking as Shen Qingqiu is crawling legless before him in the Water Prison. Then he’s helping him out of wedding robes, kissing the scars ringing Shen Qingqiu’s arms and legs, one after the other and then tasting wine on his lips. Hearing him gasping out his name as he takes him, his black eyes soft with trust.

Little Beast. Binghe. Mine. You’re finally home. Luo Binghe chokes back a cry of longing. He can stay here forever. He wishes he could stay here forever, but Shen Qingqiu squeezes his hand sharply, and Luo Binghe knows he’s had enough.

As slowly as possible, Luo Binghe retracts his energy, bringing him back to himself. The shape of Shen Qingqiu still imprinted in his own qi as he settles back into himself. He blinks, and then he hears the sound of sobbing. Not his own.

Shen Qingqiu is weeping. His hand still in Luo Binghe’s, but his shoulders are shaking. No fan to hide behind, just his face buried in his other palm. And as Luo Binghe watches him weep, he feels as lost as he had the first time his mother had cried when the doctor told her that her illness was unlikely to get better, his own eyes stinging. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t know what to do.

Slowly, so he doesn’t alarm Shen Qingqiu, he slides down to his knees beside him. He keeps Shen Qingqiu’s hand in his, presses it against his chest and runs his thumb over the back, the steady beat of his heart an anchor as Shen Qingqiu continues to weep. He places his head on Shen Qingqiu’s lap, turns his face away so Shen Qingqiu doesn’t feel like he has to hide away from him. He stays with him, lets him cry.

It takes an age. But finally, finally, two lifetimes’ worth of pent-up tears stop flowing. Shen Qingqiu lowers his hand just as Luo Binghe lifts his head from his lap. Shizun’s eyes are red, his pale face blotchy. He’s the most beautiful person Luo Binghe has ever seen.

When Luo Binghe wipes at Shen Qingqiu’s face with the sleeves of his robe, he doesn’t move away.

“I’m sorry.” They say it both at the same time. Luo Binghe smiles at Shen Qingqiu.

“Forgiven,” Luo Binghe whispers. As Shen Qingqiu smiles back and traces his fingers hesitantly down Luo Binghe’s cheek, only then does Luo Binghe notice his own tears.

----------

The day of the Immortal Alliance Conference arrives.

Shen Qingqiu should have spent the month beforehand testing Luo Binghe. Making sure he knows the information that will save his life. And he has, relentlessly. But as the day approaches, they find themselves simply spending as much time as they can with each other. Luo Binghe clinging to Shen Qingqiu like a sticky rice cake, Shen Qingqiu unwilling to let Luo Binghe out of his sight. The two of them unable to ignore time flowing past them, far too quickly.

Now, it’s the day before the event, and he’s holding Luo Binghe, who doesn’t move an inch away from his side. He’d woken up with the morning light already blazing, Luo Binghe beside him in their bed, nuzzling into his throat.

For once, Shen Qingqiu hadn’t scolded him for letting him sleep in. He just counts each precious breath, hoards each moment like a street-child grappling for bites of food. He’s twelve years old again and trapped in a prison cell, begging Qi-ge to step closer to the bars so he can see his face one last time, and the sheer unfairness of it makes Shen Qingqiu’s blood boil.

He shows none of his rage to Luo Binghe. He doesn’t want him to think any of this is his fault. He just holds onto him as tightly as he can. Luo Binghe sighs, lifts his head up. Shen Qingqiu brushes a lock of his curly hair away from his forehead, waits for him to speak.

“I know I can survive. You taught me so well.” Luo Binghe’s words are just so slightly halting, hesitant, and Shen Qingqiu runs his palm down his spine. Waiting.

“I just wish I didn’t have to be alone.” Luo Binghe confesses in a quiet rush. Shen Qingqiu pulls him down and hooks his chin over his shoulder, wraps him up in his arms.

“If I could take your place and keep you safe forever, I would,” Shen Qingqiu murmurs. In his arms, Luo Binghe jolts in surprise, lifts his head up. His eyes are so open that Shen Qingqiu has to force himself not to look away.

“Shizun..” Luo Binghe murmurs, leaning down to kiss him. Shen Qingqiu swallows, his throat raw.

“Binghe, I don’t have a right to ask this, but there is one thing I need you to promise me.” And it feels selfish to even ask this after everything, but he needs to say this, and Luo Binghe needs to hear this. Now, before it all ends. So he reaches up for Luo Binghe, tucks his warm face against his throat.

“Just come home to me.” Shen Qingqiu whispers. It’s easier to be honest like this, when he can’t see Luo Binghe’s face. Now that it’s too late to be anything but. “It doesn’t matter if you return in rags, or missing your limbs. Just come back.”

His voice breaks. Luo Binghe is very quiet before pushing himself up to kiss him again.

“Everything I do, I do for you.” Luo Binghe says, so earnestly, so fiercely that Shen Qingqiu could hate him for it. “So of course I’ll come back safe. It’s what you’re asking me to do.” The storm in Shen Qingqiu’s chest doesn’t abate, it only intensifies when Luo Binghe kisses him, pushes him down onto the bed.

Shen Qingqiu holds onto that promise, even as things go to hell. He’s holding onto Luo Binghe, running, Luo Binghe’s demon mark blazing. Huan Hua’s Palace Master is gaining behind them. Shen Qingqiu’s not surprised he would go to the extremes of allying with demons, just for the chance to claim Luo Binghe for himself.

They arrive at the edge of the Abyss. Luo Binghe goes pale when he sees the endless black that no human can survive, and Shen Qingqiu clutches him tightly, wishing more than anything else that Luo Binghe wouldn’t have to suffer through this again, that Shen Qingqiu could take his place.

But it’s Luo Binghe who turns to Shen Qingqiu. To reassure him by wrapping him in a tight embrace. He’s also the one who lets go of Shen Qingqiu first, to step back so that the Abyss is behind him, nothing but darkness all the way down.

“I’ll come home to you.” Luo Binghe promises him. “I love you.” He’s smiling. His eyes are soft with trust, with love as Shen Qingqiu kisses him. Long and sweet and deep. Strokes his hair one last time. The heat is so intense that his tears evaporate even before they slide down his cheek, but Luo Binghe breaks the kiss, licks at them lightly. He smiles at Shen Qingqiu, sweet and boyish and full of love as he guides Shen Qingqiu’s hands to his chest.

As Shen Qingqiu’s frozen hands push him in, he holds that smile in his heart like a star in the blazing dark. Even as Luo Binghe disappears, Shen Qingqiu drops to his knees, keeps searching, straining his eyes to see what’s no longer there, up until Yue Qingyuan finds him just as Huan Hua Palace’s cultivators do.

Shen Qingqiu holds onto Luo Binghe’s promise through the trial. Yue Qingyuan ensures he doesn’t end up in the Water Prison, and Shen Qingqiu had smilingly revealed the evidence he’d strong-armed Shang Qinghua’s intelligence network into collecting for him, exposing the shocking extent of Huan Hua Palace’s corruption. Between Yue Qingyuan and Chief Priest Wu Chen’s statement, it doesn’t take long before the Old Palace Master is sealed in his own Water Prison, with Huan Hua Palace itself in the capable but inexperienced hands of Head Disciple Gongyi Xiao.

Between Gongyi Xiao, the Little Palace Mistress, and the other vipers waiting in the wings for their chance to wrest control, Huan Hua Palace here will see enough internecine discord to keep them out of sect politics for years. Shen Qingqiu allows himself this bitter triumph even as he feels the hollow ache between his ribs.

Afterwards, Yue Qingyuan sits with Shen Qingqiu for long hours in the bamboo house. Occasionally, Ning Yingying badgers him into eating properly, and Ming Fan brings him tea from their estate. It helps ease the ache in Shen Qingqiu’s chest, but he can never forget.

All he can do is wait. To bide his time, trust that Luo Binghe is keeping his promise. That he taught him well, all that he needs to do to grow up, to survive. He burns offerings to Su Xiyan to help her help him watch over his son, waits alert for any news from the demon realm.

Less than five years later, he gets his answer. Two and a half years of silence from the demon realm, and then they receive a message from the Mobei clan, in Shang Qinghua’s neat calligraphy. Shen Qingqiu reads the missive out loud, his fingers numb from the bite of ice. The entire Northern Demon Realm had ceded their allegiance to a new Emperor, and the Mobei clan were now his emissaries to the human world.

Shen Qingqiu writes the response on Yue Qingyuan’s behalf. Sharp and succinct, requesting a direct audience, if this Emperor so dares. The Emperor replies with a gift: a small green glass charm, enclosed in a leather box, for Qing Jing’s Peak Lord.

Cang Qiong Mountain’s representatives arrive at the Emperor’s fortress in the human realm, Shen Qingqiu at the head of their delegation. When he enters the throne room - alone, for a private audience as specially requested - Shen Qingqiu doesn’t see the beaded crown, or the black silk robes richly embroidered in silver, or the thousands of soldiers and courtiers at his command, both human and demon.

All he sees is Luo Binghe’s smile as he falls into Shen Qingqiu’s arms like a child. All he feels is the weight of his embrace, the frantic kisses he showers on Shen Qingqiu’s face, the taste of salt on his lips as Shen Qingqiu kisses him back just as desperately. Just as tenderly.

All Shen Qingqiu knows is his disciple has come back safe and sound, as Luo Binghe breaks their kiss to grin against his own smiling mouth.

“Shizun,” Luo Binghe breathes against his lips. His eyes shine bright and black and full of tears as he cups Shen Qingqiu’s face between his hands and leans their foreheads together. “I’m home.”

Shen Qingqiu pushes down the sob building in his chest. “So am I.” he says hoarsely, clinging to his disciple, his husband. “Welcome back.” This time, it’s Luo Binghe’s turn to tuck Shen Qingqiu’s face beneath his chin, holding him tightly as Shen Qingqiu falls apart in the safety of his arms.

----

Luo Binghe carries Shen Qingqiu to his bedchambers, practically tearing the green silk off of Shen Qingqiu in his impatience to strip him naked. Shen Qingqiu pays him back in kind, his eyes flashing in malicious glee as he wrenches Luo Binghe’s robes open, takes his already-erect cock in hand. Pulling him down to kiss him, then pushing him down so he can straddle him, Luo Binghe’s eyes widening in surprise as he squeezes their cocks together. Luo Binghe reaches in between his legs, purrs in delight to find him already prepared.

“And I thought I was impatient,” Shen Qingqiu tightens his thighs around him, gratified to hear his disciple growl.

“I’ve been missing you for more than two years. So shut up and fuck me, you little beast.” Luo Binghe’s eyes go molten, and he all-too readily acquiesces. But he’s gentle as he flips them over to pin Shen Qingqiu down beneath him, his fingers tangling in Shen Qingqiu’s black hair as he cradles the back of his head. He’s gentler still as he pushes Shen Qingqiu’s legs apart and thrusts in.

Pleasure ripples across Shen Qingqiu’s face, his breath coming out in breathy gasps, and Luo Binghe drinks it all in. He pushes in, so excruciatingly slowly into the slick tightness of him that Shen Qingqiu snarls and rakes his nails down his back, arching up in a wordless, imperious command for more. Luo Binghe is all too happy to give it to him, thrusting in punishingly deep, hard enough that Shen Qingqiu moans, rolling his hips up and clenching tight around him in retaliation, driving him wild enough that Luo Binghe lets go of all reason, all restraint. Losing himself in his Shizun, in tasting him, smelling him, feeling him after so long without.

They come together. Luo Binghe fully sheathed inside Shen Qingqiu, Shen Qingqiu’s trembling legs locked around his waist. When they recover, sticky and overwhelmed, Luo Binghe’s tears are dripping onto Shen Qingqiu’s face, Shen Qingqiu’s fingers light on his cheeks as he wipes them away.

There was once a time when he would have given anything to see Shen Qingqiu weep, but the blindingly sweet smile Shen Qingqiu gives him is worth his whole empire. Worth the whole three realms as Shen Qingqiu rolls them over so Luo Binghe’s flat on his back again. Leaning down to kiss him just as Luo Binghe tugs him down, the two of them eating their fill of each other as hours slip by.

When they’re lying sated in each other’s arms, they talk. Luo Binghe sketches out the past two years. It’s nothing too different from what he’d experienced the first time around, except Shen Qingqiu’s training this time around ensured things would go much faster, and the Abyss didn’t chew him up and spit him out as badly as it had the first time.

Shen Qingqiu holds him when he goes quiet for a moment. “Your memories?” he asks quietly, and Luo Binghe shakes his head.

“I never recovered them,” he whispers. “I remember bits and pieces, but not the whole thing.” His voice is heavy with longing. Shen Qingqiu strokes his face, kisses his forehead.

“We’ll make new ones.” Shen Qingqiu says at length, and Luo Binghe feels a warm glow of gladness at how certain Shizun sounds. “What matters is you’re home.” Luo Binghe grins.

“We’re home,” he corrects Shen Qingqiu. Shen Qingqiu smiles, and Luo Binghe breath catches at how beautiful he looks. Shyly, he takes Shen Qingqiu’s hand, lifts it to his lips.

“Everything I am, I owe to Shizun. Everything that belongs to me, is his by right.” He begins carefully. “I would, however, like a small request.” Shen Qingqiu traces his lower lip with his index finger, waits for him to continue. It takes Luo Binghe an absurdly long time before he can pluck up the courage.

“My empire is still in need of an Empress.” He says in an awkward rush. “If Shizun would deign to marry me again, it would make this disciple the happiest person in the world.” Shen Qingqiu answers by giving Luo Binghe the sweetest, gentlest kiss he has ever received.

“Yes.” he says simply. Luo Binghe smiles at his Shizun, kisses him and holds him close, makes him his all over again.