Archive of Our Own

Like starlight on a faintly rippling pond, the artefact glitters, shimmering in the gloom. All the light in the chamber comes from the broken night pearl Shen Jiu holds in a death grip. His fingers are mostly numb after clutching it so tightly, for so long, but he cannot relax his grip. The faint light that barely pierces the darkness is the only thing keeping him alive. Shadows writhe around him, behind and above and to every side, waiting for the moment the night pearl fades completely. 

A projectile something had attempted to spear through it, back when Shen Jiu’s master had still been arrogantly strutting beside him. It could have pierced Shen Jiu, could’ve injured him as badly as it had his master, but it hadn’t. Only the night pearl, which now grows ever weaker. That which lurks in the dark is sentinet enough to play with its prey, taunting him, sending rubble skittering across his path, occasionally scritching at the stone. Shen Jiu grits his teeth and bites back every incendiary thing crossing his mind. He’s going to keep his head down and he’s going to survive, no matter what. 

Whoever had told Wu Yanzi of this temple had successfully duped him. It was supposed to be abandoned,  enough that its protections had recently waned just enough to be harmless. An easy job. Still, Wu Yanzi had been suspicious; he’d had Shen Jiu scout out the opening tunnels. Live bait, to spring any remaining traps and gauge how fierce the wards were. Weak to non-existent had been the answer. But the air of the place, the atmosphere…

Shen Jiu’s opinion, never wanted, had not been heeded. 

So they had entered, because Wu Yanzi would never trust him enough to send him all the way to the treasure alone. What if there was another exit and Shen Jiu finally escaped him? What if Wu Yanzi wasted days waiting for a fool teen with an unstable core who fell to an easy trap? The man has better things to do, like murder for profit, and to fuck and drink his way through said profit.

As the apprentice, Shen Jiu had held the night pearl aloft while Wu Yanzi drew his sword. Shen Jiu has no sword, only stolen knives tucked into every space they can fit, and he’s not foolish enough to draw any of them while he walks behind his master. Whatever meagre protection it might’ve afforded him from the temple, it is simply not worth the beating Wu Yanzi would’ve bestowed upon him. 

He would say the man’s too paranoid, but they both know Shen Jiu would knife him if he ever found the chance to. Not that such a thing matters anymore; Wu Yanzi’s smeared across a wall somewhere and Shen Jiu lives still. Even if he dies here, that is victory enough for someone as pathetic as he. 

It’s impossible to say where the violent shadows and the beasts within them came from. A trap unknowingly sprung, a manifestation of the perhaps not entirely eroded wards or simply some abyssal beast which has made this temple its home. Whatever their origin, there’s no doubt as to whether the treasure still exists. It hovers before him now, just barely not touching what was once a very fine cushion. Laid over an altar, now nothing more than mere scraps of fabric rendered colourless by either time or the waning night pearl light. 

They’d heard the paths shift behind them as they walked, straight hallways turning into an impossible maze, and once alone Shen Jiu had no choice but to continue forward. He does not value treasure, not over even his miserable life, and yet here he stands. Odd treasure soon to be within arms reach but with little water and no food. He’s dead no matter what, whether he huddles up in some corner, clinging to the night pearl, or steals the very thing they came here to steal. 

A quick death at the end of his own blades is the very best outcome to this situation. 

Stealing the treasure — artefact, whatever — even if only for a handful of hours, seems like a nice little fuck you to Wu Yanzi. He’ll never know but Shen Jiu will relish in it, for whatever miniscule amount of time he has left. Will he be torn to shreds for the offence of touching the thing? Not so long as the night pearl continues to shed light, perhaps. If his filthy hands touching the object is so reprehensible, at least another one of those projectiles will end him more or less quickly. Not painlessly, no, but Shen Jiu has been in pain for so long that he barely remembers a life absent it. Pain is nothing he fears. 

Not foolish enough to let hope bloom, Shen Jiu nevertheless recognises that perhaps… perhaps the artefact is something that could help him. Guide the way out, or shed light more fiercely than the night pearl, or even command the shadow legions. Each step he takes closer to it makes him more certain of such a thing. He will not expect it, will not even wish for it, but… maybe, just this once, Shen Jiu will stumble upon some scrap of luck. 

Plus, if it’s in his hand, it might be useful as some form of leverage against the beasts. If they’re so keen to protect it, and smart enough to torment Shen Jiu, then they should have the intelligence to feel threatened. To know what Shen Jiu means, when he swears to smash the thing if not shown a way out. It’s supposedly over two millennia old, it must be at least somewhat fragile by now. Such a thing is surely too precious to risk damaging over a rat like Shen Jiu. Better to just let him scurry away. 

Though… it would be a shame to destroy it, captivating as it is. 

The closer he gets, the more light the night pearl shines upon the altar, the more — 

off putting

— beautiful it looks. There is no constant shape to it, an amorphous thing constantly in flux. Shifting slowly but endlessly, fluid in a way that solid objects very much — 

should not be

— wish they could emulate. What will it feel like under his hands, he wonders. It shimmers so prettily, catching the light as though slightly damp. Though as it turns, the very edges of it become matte, as though an entirely different texture awaits. How —

dangerous 

— curious. Perhaps it’s an effect of whatever protection arrays remain, lingering on  the edges of the thing. Surely there must still be some left, else why would such a treasure remain? It should be taken away from this decrepit place, put where all can come see, and touch. No matter the protections, Shen Jiu will have it anyway. After all — 

fuck fuck fuck, do not, do not —

— once he’s decided upon a course, Shen Jiu does not falter. No matter how difficult. He would be an entirely different person, if he did. 

Whatever doubt now infests him must come from the temple itself, the wards, the beasts, trying to cause him to falter. He won’t. He — 

fucking idiot, pathetic wretch, is this how you die? Ensnared by a fucking — 

— is close enough that it’s almost in reach, now. It had looked so large across the room and now it seems as though he could fit its shifting mass into one hand. Everything about it is — 

— disconcerting, aberrant to nature, a death sentence — 

Beautiful. 

Another step takes him close enough and he doesn’t hesitate, eager to hold such a stunning treasure. 

Unexpectedly, it’s oddly warm to the touch, somehow both slick and coarse, like half dried moss. For half a heartbeat, it sits perfectly in the palm of his hand. Nothing in the shadows moves, every eager monster perfectly paused in recognition of this singular moment. 

who will find Qi-ge now who will bury his bones  

Shen Jiu stares up at the ceiling and only then realises he’s fallen. There is no pain from colliding with the hard stone of the floor, and why would there be? He’s exactly where he’s meant to be. Something creeps up his arm, slick and dry and burning hot. How odd. It’s not pleasant but it doesn’t worry him. His heart thunders in his chest but it feels so distant. He must be excited, that’s all. Happy. Yes, yes, he’s happy to be here. 

move, MOVE. do SOMETHING

He cannot move his burning arm, nor the other one. His feet twitch, idly, but nothing above his knees seems to remember how to move. What a fascinating development. The night pearl ebbs with every breath he takes, or perhaps it has simply fallen from his lax hand and is rolling away. He blinks, slowly. It is a struggle to open his eyes again. Why is he even trying to? What a hassle. What a bother.

no no no no no no no no no no no no no no 

Darkness engulfs him. The only sound is the thudding of his own pulse, finally beginning to slow from its frantic pace. Why had he been worried? Why had he been so eager to fight, tooth and nail? For what — for his life? 

he wants to live

What a useless thing that is. Live, to what end? To scrape out another pathetic day? To do nothing but scrabble in the dirt, hungry and afraid?

breathe. in, out, in, out, come on, keep breathing you foolish, pathetic —

Isn’t this much better? Isn’t this what we want?

wretched little rat, is this how you die? to a thing that dares to condescend to you? 

Light, suddenly. 

Burning orange-white behind his eyelids — searing — a shock to the system. Pain where there had been none; dull burning replaced by biting agony. Something clings to his skin like it has claws hooked just below the surface and is desperately attempting to dig deeper. A sound, somewhere. Sharp and loud and proof that there is still more to this world than Shen Jiu’s increasingly raspy breaths. 

“Oh, fuck!” A voice, he eventually realises, though he cannot say how long it takes him to understand that he’s heard anything at all. Shouting. His own throat reverberating with noise — Shen Jiu’s shouting, too. There’s no telling whether movement has been suddenly regained or whether he’s only just noticed that he’s thrashing, lashing out, weak fists battering against something. Some one.  

A broad hand wrapping around one wrist does nothing but incite him to more panic, teeth bared in a threat he’s not sure he can follow through with. Not due to any foolish squeamishness, but the sheer weakness of his limbs, how heavy his head is. One arm might be captured but he has three other limbs and Shen Jiu forces them to work, to hit, to try and drive off whoever dares touch him. 

“Ow, squirmy bastard, I’m trying to help!” The voice is deep enough to set Shen Jiu’s hair on end. Another hand is touching his neck, his shoulder, nails scraping against skin. With some hidden reserve of strength — always has Shen Jiu been powered by wild desperation, more than anything else — he manages to turn his head and bite down, hard. 

“Hey, hey! I’m trying to — Fuck!”

Copper, weak but unmistakable, bursts bright on Shen Jiu’s tongue. As though blood were some previously agreed upon signal, he feels his strength sap from him with alarming quickness. The flesh is pried out from beneath his lax jaw and, after a few moments of no movement, his captured wrist is released. If only Shen Jiu had thought of this ploy earlier. He’s not afraid to act weak in order to lure others into a trap. Much as he hates it, it’s worked well for him, over the years. 

“You gonna let me save your life now? Huh, kid?” 

Fingernails scrape against the skin of his neck, pulling and tugging and digging in. Tearing free as though they’d been embedded, somehow. They tug at his neck, at his worn collar, peeling the fabric back. Panic fills him though without the strength that usually accompanies it. 

All he manages to do is snap his eyes open, teeth bared once more in empty threat. Knelt over him, lit by flickering torchlight is… himself. No, noot himself, some older, not quite right imposter. That thing he’d been enchanted into touching, maybe. He’d thought it would steal all his body rather than just his face, but perhaps it will be easier to kill, like this. 

Bright green eyes are narrowed in concentration and, as Shen Jiu watches, one hand is pulled away from him. That same disgusting sensation, nails against skin, tugging as though to flay him alive, and then — 

Darkness. Glittering slickly but oddly matte, clinging and viscous where it’s clenched in his doppleganger’s glowing hand. It can be nothing but that artefact, the one he never should have touched, never should have approached at all. Even as he watches, the thing appears to be turning itself inside out, cowering away from the strong firelight. 

“How in the entire Abyss,” the man mutters, grunting slightly with exertion, “did you manage to stumble across a fucking Dragon Void spawn?”

There’s a repulsive sound; wet, meaty and sudden, like a shoulder badly dislocated. The long tendrils which had connected this man’s fist to Shen Jiu snap. With a click of his tongue, the man throws it into the shadows. Whatever the other man had held — void spawn? — entirely disappears from sight as leaves the cheery circle of light. That does not mean the shadows are still; writhing within them, in a near silent commotion, are the same beasts which had stalked Shen Jiu all this way. 

Another touch, this time to his shoulder, and Shen Jiu bites down a pained groan. The man is dragging his fist away, once more coated in that filth and… oh. The pain, his confusion and fury, have dulled his thoughts to an unforgivable degree. This man… is helping him. Appears to be helping him, for now at least. Shen Jiu has no doubt that it will come at a cost, eventually. 

“Do you know how rare these are, even in the Endless Abyss? Phenomenally so! How lucky to have found it!” The man yanks away another handful of void spawn and throws it to the shadows.

“...What?” Shen Jiu manages to rasp out. His throat feels raw, as though he’s spent hours screaming. 

“What? Oh! Right, not for you I suppose, haha. You should never try to touch Void spawn without protection, you know! They’ll try and fuse with your skin to eat your brain and wear you like a puppet. Then, after you’re mostly decomposed, they feast on what’s left to spawn anew.” More void painfully removed, freeing up most of Shen Jiu’s shoulder.

“Don’t ask me why they’re called Dragon Voids. Probably the person who named it was a talentless hack. I’m Shen Yuan, by the way.”

Shen, he thinks with no small derision. Perhaps the void entity hadn’t stolen his face but clearly something has. It wouldn’t have had to dig deep into his brain to turn up his name. But, for now, Shen Jiu’s willing to play along.

“Shen Jiu,” he introduces himself, barely suppressing a wince when the next handful is yanked. 

“Wow. That’s certainly a coincidence. Also… kind of familiar? Huh. Have we met before? And I don’t suppose you know where we are?”

“...What fool enters a mysterious temple full of traps, in a location he doesn’t even know?” Shen Jiu never said he had to be nice, to play along. 

“Probably the same type of fool who touches clearly magical, dangerous objects.”

“It ensnared me.” Shen Jiu protests, unwilling to have anyone think him a fool, even someone who may or may not have stolen his face. 

“Really? Oh, that’s fascinating. I didn’t even know they could do that! Once we’re done here, you’ll have to give me a full account for my bestiary. I’m working on a bestiary, you see, and Abyssal animals are incredibly hard to cover! That section is so lacking I probably won’t go back to the sect for the next decade. It’d serve Shizun right, too. Trying to pin that shitty position on me. No, thank you! This Shen Yuan has better things to be doing with his time than drown in paperwork!”

Sect? 

Shen Jiu runs his eye over the other man again, now that he’s less blinded by pain and panic. Everything else had been eclipsed after he’d glimpsed that too familiar face but now… Even in the flickering torch light, Shen Jiu’s able to pick up on the hints to Shen Yuan’s status. Embroidery glinting at his throat, the hems of his pushed back sleeves. Travel worn though his clothes may be, the material looks too soft, too well made, to be anything cheap. No guan but such an omission pales in the face of the sword. Mostly hidden by the other man’s shadow and a loose outer layer of fabric, the hilt of it still manages to draw the eye. 

If that weren’t enough, both of this Shen Yuan’s hands are glowing. Even before he started his so called ‘apprenticeship’ with Wu Yanzi, Shen Jiu’s uneducated self would’ve been able to identify a visible showing of qi. Unexpectedly, it’s warm. Whenever he had the misfortune to feel Wu Yanzi’s qi, it was like the cold lash of a whip. Where this Shen Yuan’s arm holds his own, qi seems to seep directly into the frozen marrow of his bones. It’s… pleasant. Too pleasant to be trusted. 

“Anyway, I didn’t enter a random, deadly temple! I entered a well known temple, looking for Many Eyed Tiger Monkeys and between one step and the next, here I was! Watching the Void spawn try to devour you whole. Really wasn’t expecting that. I’m not cut out for this sort of wife plot bullshit, you know? I’m a researcher! Some would say an unhinged risk taker — which I object to! Just FYI! I write everything down, which makes it science , check and mate shixiong —”

Listening closely, it’s clear their voices aren’t the same. Perhaps it’s only the effect of age, as Shen Yuan is obviously older, but… the way he speaks, the way he pronounces words, it’s all wrong. The emphasis, the cadence — this is not an impersonator who would fool anyone for long. Who would want to impersonate Shen Jiu, anyway? He’s less than no one. There can be nothing gained from using his face. Even had Wu Yanzi been alive, replacing Shen Jiu would have produced nothing but abuse. 

With every second that passes, Shen Jiu’s better able to calculate the differences between the two of them. First of all, Shen Jiu would never ramble like this. Secondly, Shen Yuan is smiling. An absent little thing, the corner of his mouth tilted up, the barest hint of an indent in his cheek from where such casual humour alters his face. Happy to chat away, even without any response from his audience. Shen Jiu can’t say whether he would look like that, if he smiled; Shen Jiu can’t say that he’s ever seen himself smile.

With such strong, flickering light, it’s hard to discern whether the man’s eye shape, the curve of his mouth, is different to Shen Jiu’s or not. Warm light and deep shadows can radically alter appearance; all the differences — small and large — could be attributed solely to the lighting, to the unburdened way Shen Yuan holds himself. There’s a small chance that such things, and Shen Jiu’s initial confusion, has shown him a false familiarity. Perhaps, under natural light, they hold only a passing resemblance to one another. 

Compared to the idea Shen Jiu originally conjured — Shen Yuan, a malignant thief, stealing the identity of a rat moments from death and then saving him, as though either Shen Jiu’s life or his name or his face could ever provide some benefit. There is no favour to be gained from saving him; what little gratitude Shen Jiu is willing to spare for such a deed is nothing that a man like this would treasure. 

Compared to that, there is an infinitely simpler explanation as to why they look so similar. If it is cultivation alone which grants Shen Yuan such a youthful visage, then Shen Jiu could be any matter of blood relation to the man before him. An unknown byblow from a lurid encounter, a distant cousin, a nephew or great-grandson; none of these are impossible, but it seems improbable that they would still share a name. It’s improbable that Shen Jiu has a family name at all — only Qi-ge’s sharp ears, only his kindness, has enabled Shen Jiu’s family name to stay with him after he’d been sold. 

Despite the many layers of complexity in the world, Shen Jiu has always found that the simplest path often yields fruit. 

Brothers. 

They truly do look so alike and there are easy ways to test blood. From there, it is no great leap to figure out the rest. Shen Jiu, the unlucky younger son. Nothing more than another mouth to feed, a burden. As a squalling babe, the only value he could have brought to his family was in his sale. No doubt the money went towards securing a better life for the man before him; that such a thing obviously worked does nothing to cure the bitterness dripping like poison into his heart. 

Shen Yuan seems freer, more unburdened, than Shen Jiu could ever hope to be. 

Luck. Privilege. Being offered a guiding hand instead of being beaten down at every conceivable turn. 

Bitterness and hatred have long since replaced the marrow of his bones and Shen Jiu is long since acclimated. Such feelings cannot throw him off course, not when there’s such an obvious opportunity so close at hand. 

Shen Yuan, no matter what else he may or may not be, is a cultivator. With what seems to be no effort at all, he’s saving Shen Jiu from an abyssal creature — and he’s doing so with no immediate benefit, with no chance of reward or recompense. A single look is enough for anyone to tell that Shen Jiu has nothing to give and even less which could be taken from him. 

Shen Yuan has warm qi and brusque hands and a sword — and he’s still speaking, has been this entire time. 

“ — Tiger-Monkey, which actually kind of looks like a hedgehog? Weird right? Well, most things are badly named. Like I always say, Airplane you fucking hack. And honestly, you’re lucky I even recognised what was eating you! Almost didn’t. If it hadn’t been for that extra where Lu— uh, nevermind, not important. No idea how I got here. Twin temples, maybe? Given the temperature difference — though that really could just come from all the stone we’re surrounded by — I’m thinking maybe this is waaaaaay further north than —”

Arm now free almost to the elbow, Shen Jiu interrupts whatever useless drivel the other man’s natering on about. (How he travelled locations, Shen Jiu knows. He’s not stupid enough to ignore the other man entirely. The information could be useful, valuable; it could be the difference between living another day and dying. It could somehow endear himself to this talkative man, at least somewhat. Could prove that he’s got a good memory, that he’s useful.

Shen Jiu might just hate this man for everything he has that Shen Jiu does not, but Shen Jiu can at least wait until he’s fed before he starts biting hands.)

“You’re from a sect?” 

“Yep! Cang Qiong Mountain, Qing Jing peak’s Shen Yuan, happy to help!”

Yes, he does seem to be, doesn’t he. Shen Jiu weighs the pros and cons. Tries to run a risk assessment on this man; can’t quite get there. Between the little information he’s received and Shen Jiu’s deep dislike, it’s hard to dig deeply into Shen Yuan’s character with any accuracy. 

He’d saved Shen Jiu from a monster. One the man appears to be fascinated by — one he’d clearly love to study. And he could have, if only he’d let it continue eating Shen Jiu. Instead he’s tearing it apart, piece by piece, without regard for his bestiary or research. 

Just to keep Shen Jiu alive.

It has been a long time since any value has been placed on Shen Jiu’s life, let alone a price so weighty. 

Shen Yuan had remarked upon their familiarity but hadn’t seemed concerned; hadn’t lingered on it, the way Shen Jiu has. Has he saved Shen Jiu’s life out of guilt? Regret? In an attempt to even the scales between them, favoured child to discarded one? Has he spared a single second to wonder why they share such a resemblance, whether there is any connection between them prior to this moment?

Had he acted to save Shen Jiu before or after he’d seen his face?

…Did it matter to him, either way?

“Will you… be heading back soon?”

“Ha! Absolutely fucking not! Why?”

“Oh… I just… I — Auh!” Shen Jiu lowers his eyes, creases his brows and allows a pained noise to escape when the void is ripped away from the soft skin of his elbow. With Wu Yanzi, Shen Jiu would rather bite through his own tongue before he let any weakness show. It could all be an act, of course, but this Shen Yuan seems… easy to manipulate, regardless of any other thing he might be.

All Shen Jiu’s techniques were useless on Wu Yanzi; his master — ex-master, now — knew Shen Jiu too well. Knew him before he met the brothel jiejie’s, who did their best to arm him the only way they could: knowledge, and women’s tricks. When they give him a safe place to sleep out of Wu Yanzi’s — out of anyone's — reach, they teach him as well. How to tilt your head just right, to smile and cajole; when to be cold and distant, when to fold; how to tell when a man wants your pain or will be repulsed by it.

No matter what else he may want after this, in this moment Shen Yuan does not want his pain. 

“Shit, sorry, let me know if it gets too painful! We… can’t really stop, you gotta go fast so it doesn’t get a chance to regrow. But you can. Uh. Dig your nails into my arm? Will that help? Wish I had a stress ball or something…”

Jackpot. 

Eyes averted from Shen Yuan, it’s immediately apparent that the void removal technique is a hazard to his clothes, as well. He’s bare from neck to elbow, enough of his chest uncovered that he’s barely decent. At least it’s dark enough, the light unsteady enough, that his numerous scars are more or less invisible. Being so bare before another man has his skin crawling but, for the sake of this charade of meek weakness, Shen Jiu’s prepared to grit his teeth.

“Just… get it over with,” Shen Jiu says, letting his voice waver. He continues to speak in short sentences, as though fighting through the pain. “I — I wanted to join. Your sect.”

“Well, I guess we are pretty famous.” 

Another piece of void torn away; Shen Jiu lets out another small noise of pained discomfort. 

“But it’s another year or two — or more? Wait, how often are they held again? …How long have I been away this time? Regardless, it’s almost certainly not disciple selection time for a long while.”

More void thrown to the shadow beasts. How long can Shen Jiu continue this facade? It’s not that he feels no pain, more that he’s grown so accustomed to hiding away even the slightest scrap of it, so as to never advertise a vulnerability. To do otherwise is… disconcerting. 

“Also, you might be too old? What are you, fifteen? Twenty? It’s rare for Cang Qiong to take someone who’s entered their teen years. Or maybe it’s just after puberty? Honestly, it could go either way. Like I said, direct all complaints at Airplane. Half this shit makes no sense and has no continuity and I haven’t exactly been paying attention.” 

Pull, tear, throw. 

Whimper, let his eyes fill with tears, restart the act with a shaky inhale. 

“At this point, you’ve got two options. Three, if you consider giving up an option. One, go to Cang Qiong anyway. You might get lucky; maybe I’ve lost track of time entirely again and the initiation trials will be soon. There’s a village you can live in near the main stairs, till they open. They’ll make you dig a hole, by the way. Try and find a stick, otherwise you’ll just be clawing the earth with your bare hands and wow that is not fun, let me tell you.”

Half of Shen Jiu’s forearm is visible, now. 

“Or you could get in through a personal recommendation — usually that’s at least partly an apprenticeship, theoretically. …Usually.”

“How do you g-get,” Shen Jiu lets a tear roll down his cheek. He’s been faking tears for sympathy since he was begging on the streets, he’s seen just about every reaction there is; Shen Yuan might be one of his easiest marks, ever. Sheer panic floods his face when he realises that Shen Jiu’s started to cry, his green eyes frantically darting around as though a way to staunch them’s just waiting to be noticed.

“Hey, look, we’re almost done. You’re, uh, being very brave! So strong!”

The condescension is not appreciated, but the obvious sign that his plan’s working is. 

“And, uh,” Shen Yuan laughs, awkwardly, as he rips more void away, “nepotism. Nepotism is how you get a personal recommendation to my sect.”

Shen Jiu can’t help the way his own bitter laugh slips past his lips. Of course. Of fucking course. Why had he ever expected anything different? It was only ever a childish dream, to pretend that Cang Qiong was removed from the same filth as the rest of the world. 

“I mean, it helps if you’re good at cultivation! But I have seen some absolutely rancid people get accepted due to the good old fashioned friend of a friend tactic. Not that those types tend to get very far — cultivation isn’t exactly a walk in the park, unfortunately. There should be some type of cheat code! God did I want a cheat code, but do you know how many B-poi— uh bbbbullshit fake get ahead quick schemes there are out there? And none of them work! You really do just gotta put in the work!”

Almost down to Shen Jiu’s wrist, now. All that’s left of Wu Yanzi is the lurid, handprint shaped bruise slowly becoming visible on Shen Jiu’s arm. 

“Also, waking up with an unstable core fucking sucks. And having to repair it? To build on it? Holy shit did I almost fucking die. Most people would just give up. I should’ve given up but, haha, noooooo, we just had to stick it out. On the plus side, I’ve got a stable core now. No more worrying about qi deviations outside of extenuating circumstances, which is handy given I’m always wandering around, usually by myself.”

Something uncomfortably similar to hope flickers to life in Shen Jiu’s chest; maybe it’s just his faulty foundation finally starting to crumble. 

“You… can fix that? Problems with your core?”

“You can fix anything with the right attitude — and the right people; a healer, some wildly specific knowledge, and a bullshit OP asspull every now and again doesn’t exactly hurt, either.”

Shen Jiu’s never heard of an ‘OP asspull’ before and context doesn’t quite fill him in, but he’s soaking up the rest of the words like a sponge. 

“So it’s difficult, but it can be done. So long as —” Shen Jiu cries out again, louder as the void tries to cling onto the knob of his wrist. It doesn’t hurt any more or less than the rest of it has, but it gives his performance a little bit of depth. 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Shen Yuan chants as he severs yet more of those eye straining, too black strands. 

“Are you one of those ‘right people?’”

“Huh? I guess,” more void discarded; the back of Shen Jiu’s hand is revealed, “I mean, I fixed my own core that way, so I should have some idea of what I’m talking about.”

“Honourable Master Cultivator,” Shen Jiu simpers, instead of resorting instantly to the harsh demand he’d prefer. “Please, I am desperately in need of your guidance.”

A quick breath, to steel himself. Shen Jiu remembers the last time he begged for help; remembers the years under Wu Yanzi’s thumb; freedom which he hadn’t even had the chance to celebrate before it was effectively taken from him again. But Shen Yuan has not come with sly smiles and too good to be true promises. There is no rich lord to steal from. Whatever the strings may be, surely this is a better option than any Shen Jiu’s had before — even if it’s in the form of a man who might be his long lost, lucky elder brother. 

So long as he is able to fix whatever’s wrong with his cultivation, so long as he can become a proper cultivator, Shen Jiu will endure anything. 

“Please, let me apprentice under you.”

Shen Yuan pauses; void stretched between his hand and Shen Jiu’s, stopped just before the breaking point. Near identical green eyes meet. For a moment, Shen Yuan’s so utterly surprised that his concentration must falter. The visible qi Shen Yuan had been circulating through his hands and arms — flickers. 

“Ow! Shit!” Gold flares back into being, brighter than before. The void appears to almost curdle at the edges and Shen Yuan breaks it off with a sharp flick of his wrist. This piece, he doesn’t throw to the shadows. Instead it slips from his hand and lands on the stone with a disgusting splat. The thing appears inert once more, though Shen Jiu has no way of knowing with any certainty. It’s shuddering, minute tremors wracking its form, but it’s a world away from the constant, effortless movement it displayed before Shen Jiu touched it. 

Or maybe this is exactly what it looked like, only by then it’d already crept into Shen Jiu’s mind, manipulating even his sight. If it’s still alive enough to be reaching out, either it’s not attempting to snare Shen Jiu, or Shen Yuan is keeping it at bay somehow. 

“You… What? Me? I — I mean! Ahem. Apprenticing to this one is no easy feat, young man!”

Any attempt at sounding like a wise old master has long since been undermined by Shen Yuan’s neverending rambling. But, while he’s obviously a fool who can’t keep his mouth shut, that doesn’t mean he’s an idiot. Once Shen Jiu becomes accustomed to his odd turns of phrase, he’ll be able to subtly squeeze the man for all sorts of information. With that babbling brook he calls a mouth, Shen Jiu won’t even have to beg for scraps of knowledge like Wu Yanzi had forced him to do. 

“I do not seek an easy path, Master Shen.”

More corpses than just Wu Yanzi’s can speak to that. Void is ripped off his knuckles, off part of one finger, and Shen Jiu doesn’t flinch. He keeps eye contact with Shen Yuan, who drops his serious mein almost instantly. 

“There are no paths at all, with me! I’m never at the sect. I spend all my time doing research for my thesis— I mean, my bestiary. I head back maybe once every three years. Maybe. I rarely talk to people at all. I spend so much time camping. So. Much. Time. I don’t even like camping! They don’t tell you that when you go gallivanting off to live your dream, do they! Liu Qingge never complains about camping, but that’s because Liu Qingge’s a sports nut who probably thinks it’s invigorating.”

One of Shen Yuan’s glowing hands touches Shen Jiu’s wrist, lightly. A gentle suggestion to stay still, rather than a firm hand forcing him. It feels like dull fingernails are peeling his skin away, when Shen Yuan begins tearing the void away from his thumb. To continue with the pathetic charade or not, that is the real question. If Shen Yuan thinks Shen Jiu’s too weak, he won’t agree; no use travelling with and teaching a liability. But if he’s suddenly stone faced, then the cultivator will know Shen Jiu was lying to him, attempting to manipulate him. 

Monks espousing ‘the middle path’ likely never intended such a usage, but Shen Jiu will happily take their advice. Halfway between too weak and too strong; the appearance of someone who’s got enough grit to push through, but still weak enough to be accepted — to be controlled . 

“I will never have an opportunity like this again.” Thumb free, the same sensation is now running down his pointer finger. Shen Jiu sets his mouth into a mostly firm line, wobbly only at the very edges. 

“Please. This is my dream.”

With a sigh, Shen Yuan rips the void away and throws it. Three fingers left, and Shen Jiu’s palm, and then he’s free. 

“Dreams aren’t always something you should chase.” Shen Yuan sighs again, showcasing nothing more than the chasm between them. Sometimes, the only thing you have left is a dream. You either chase it or you die in the filth you came from. Shen Yuan’s attention is focused on their joined hands. Shen Jiu once again experiences the unpleasant sensation of the void trying and failing to stay buried in his skin. Two fingers left. 

“Surely there’s something else you want, other than being a cultivator?”

In the uncertain crease around Shen Yuan’s mouth, the pinched skin around his eyes, Shen Jiu can see how the man’s reticence falters. These attempts to dissuade him are weak, entirely pro forma. With slightly more pressure, the cultivator’s resistance will give way entirely. What is Shen Jiu willing to do, to secure this apprenticeship, even if only until his core is stabilised? 

Anything. 

Even showing his soft underbelly would be acceptable, no matter how nausea stirs in his gut at the idea.

“I want to find my brother. Bury his bones properly, so he can be at peace.”

Shen Yuan’s hand clenches around the void in his hand. Ribbons of it squirt through the slight gaps between his fingers, trailing over the back of his hand before he throws the whole mess away. 

“Shit,” he says, “what am I supposed to say to that?”

Then Shen Jiu gets to experience the horrific sensation of being degloved, for all that his skin remains more or less intact. Even in the shifting light, Shen Jiu can see the drops of blood welling on his palm in some obscure pattern. 

“That was the point of entry, where it burrowed in. It’s temporary central nervous system, until it was able to absorb yours. Honestly, it’s a fascinating example of an endoparasite — and you said it ensnared you? I was honestly running on the assumption that it was some sort of flora rather than an actual beast, but maybe not. Of course, there’s nothing to say it isn’t some sort of cross breed, which I suppose might explain the ‘dragon’ nomenclature, at least in part.”

Checking every cun of his arm reveals that he’s no longer infected; death only barely avoided, yet again. 

“It could still be a plant — some sort of demonic fungus, maybe? Because I have definitely met flora smarter than some of my fellow disciples. Literally. I played a game of weiqi against a bed of crimson-yellow waxy fan-caps and they were harder to beat than half of my shidi. Then again, I think the trees were helping the fungi cheat. Not that I have any proof — of the cheating, though I thought I had some minimal proof that the Dragon Void was a plant rather than an animal. 

“This has thrown everything into turmoil — for a very mild definition of turmoil — so I guess this just reinforces that I need to stop shoving my own biases and preconjecture onto the data! That’s the very first lesson!”

“First lesson?” Shen Jiu asks, unable to tamp down on the sharp edge to his voice. 

“Ah, I should’ve made sure you were listening first. So —”

“Don’t project personal bias onto data.”

“Huh. Most people zone out pretty early, once I start talking about anything that’s going to go in my bestiary.”

“I was listening. Crimson-yellow waxy fan-caps can play weiqi and perhaps cheat, from the trees. You now propose that the dragon void is an endoparasite.” Shen Jiu doesn’t know what, exactly, an ‘endoparasite’ is, but he can learn. And he knows how to bluff his way through, before he figures it out. 

“You hate camping but it’s necessary for your thesis-bestiary. Dragon void spawn are incredibly rare, both on this plane and in the Abyss, and you should never touch them without protection. There are no shortcuts in cultivation though ‘OP asspulls’ are h—”

“Okay! Wow, you really were listening. I think you’ve paid more attention to my prattle than my last two assistants combined, and they were both with me for months before they got sick of me enough to flee back to the sect.”

Rubbing a no longer glowing hand over his face, Shen Yuan sighs and shrugs and says, 

“Is an apprentice anything like a research assistant?” The man mutters to himself, attention clearly focused briefly inwards. Suddenly uncovering his now too wide eyes, Shen Yuan leans in until he’s nearly nose to nose with Shen Jiu. The cultivator looks distinctly panicked, entirely at odds with his previously nonchalant attitude.

“You can’t blame me if I’m a bad teacher, okay? I’ll try my best and make sure no one bullies you and I won’t ever use physical punishment or abuse you, so you can’t grow up and take revenge on me, alright? No human sticks! Second lesson!”

They stare at each other in silence for long, long moments.

“...Second lesson should probably include what a human stick is, so that I can’t do it by accident.”

“Aha..haha… It’s not really something you can do accidentally. You know what, forget I said anything!” Shen Yuan claps his hands together and stands, brushing off his clothes. More embroidery catches the light as it flutters around Shen Yuan’s legs; a bamboo forest, swaying gently with the man’s movement.

“You sure you want to be my apprentice? I’ve been told I’m ‘a hazard to work with’ and ‘fucking unhinged’ and ‘dear god don’t try and pet it, Shen Yuan, you freak!’”

“I’m sure.”

“Then I guess once you’re in core formation, I’ll send you off to the sect? My Shizun’ll accept you for sure, though I don’t know if Qing Jing’s the peak you want. After a couple years hard work, they usually let you transfer if you petition diligently enough. If you’re ill fitted enough, sometimes other peaks will try and snipe you! Lin-shifu almost kicked my shishu through the mountain, when he tried to convince me to defect to the beast taming peak.” When Shen Yuan went looking to change peaks of his own volition; it’s basically the same story, really. 

Whatever reply Shen Jiu was crafting never gets a chance to leave his mouth. Hunger pangs through his stomach, audibly, and Shen Yuan blinks in shock. 

“Good point, Shen Jiu, it is about time for lunch. Ah, you must’ve been wandering around lost in here for ages, huh? I’ll teach you the trick for this type of maze after we eat.” With the same amount of fanfare as he’d used to stand — that is, none — Shen Yuan flops down on the ground. 

“Hmm, we should deal with this first.” A considering look is levelled on the last piece of void not thrown to the shadows, still convulsing oddly barely a few handspans away from them.

“Did you want to try feeding the corpse devouring spine snatchers? They’re kind of cute, actually, if you can coax them from the shadows. They’re scavengers, rather than predators, and quite playful! Well, unless you scare them. Like most animals, they’ll attack when they feel threatened.”

“For instance… if you were waving a sword around and shouting at someone.”

“Exactly! They have a ridge of spines, especially thick around their neck, to keep predators from their vitals. But, when pressed, they can shoot those spines in self defence. It makes them quite vulnerable after, however, but since they travel in packs that’s usually a non-issue.”

Shen Jiu doesn’t mention that he’s seen this first hand. That line of conversation might lead to who, exactly, Shen Jiu’s ex-master was. Wu Yanzi isn’t exactly unknown in cultivation circles, though thankfully that stain has yet to taint Shen Jiu. There are benefits to being so beneath people’s notice. If anyone does bother to remember that Wu Yanzi had an ‘apprentice’ skulking around behind him, Shen Jiu’s confident that no one will recognise his face. 

“Why are they called spine snatchers?”

“I think they just like the crunch of vertebrae. Maybe spinal fluid tastes nice, too, but I wouldn’t know. We’ll have to coat your hand with my qi if you want to feed them, or else we’ll be right back where we started.”

It takes several minutes — and hiding the torch — for the creatures to venture forth. During all of it, Shen Jiu holds the last piece of the thing which tried to kill him. Holds it, and is held in turn; Shen Yuan’s hand is underneath his own, sword calloused palms rough against the back of Shen Jiu’s scarred hand. Qi flows over their hands, a neverending current, warm and vibrant and unmistakably alive. 

“Now then!” Shen Yuan claps his hands together to get everyone’s attention, as though he doesn’t already have every bit of it. Several of the younger women have already been herded away by family members, despite their obvious desire to stay. Several more of the local matrons — and a not insignificant portion of the village men — are also staring at Shen Jiu’s teacher with more interest than is remotely appropriate. 

After a year of this, Shen Jiu is unfortunately used to such scenarios. 

Jiu-er, Shen Yuan said — he calls Shen Jiu all manner of names, and has done since a day and a half after they met. Annoying and ridiculous but — not inconsiderate. He’d used ‘Xiao Jiu’ once, and only once. Reaction is a privilege which has been beaten out of Shen Jiu over long, long years, so he cannot have shown his displeasure. He had let the name roll off his back the way he must let everything go, lacking the power to bite back. Despite Shen Jiu’s non-reaction, Shen Yuan must’ve noticed something. 

By turns, Shen Yuan is both astonishingly oblivious and wretchedly, inconveniently observant. 

Jiu-er, he says with a wide smile. Worse — ever since that ridiculous mess with the Lying Five Tailed Caracal Hare — hǔ zǐ. Sometimes, when Shen Yuan mistakenly thinks Shen Jiu can’t hear, he’ll also call him a crispy lotus, which is blatantly ridiculous. They’re all ridiculous names — made even more so by how openly affectionate he is when he says them; it’s only because Shen Yuan’s been alone too long, Shen Jiu knows. He would — and has! — attached himself to particularly sentient rocks, if left unattended for more than a shíchén. 

They’d had a three week diversion from their planned course to find Dà Pàng and his recently detached ‘pebble’ — Xiǎo Pàng — a better place to live. Re-housing vaguely sapient rocks is not the weirdest thing Shen Jiu’s done since meeting Shen Yuan. Finding out that they apparently had a ‘planned course’ and weren’t simply being blown too and fro by the wind of Shen Yuan’s whims, however, is definitely up there.

Jiu-er, he’d said, that first time he’d started to strip to skin and Shen Jiu had been… taken aback. Things had been going well between them, so Shen Jiu had been waiting for something to go wrong. He’d thought, he’d assumed — it does not matter, given that he’d been wrong. 

Do you want to be cleaning monster gunk from our clothes?

You have cleaning talismans, had been Shen Jiu’s very calm and not at all biting answer. These talismans had been one of the first things Shen Yuan had shown him, explaining their use and the radicals behind them before slapping one on Shen Jiu’s shoulder and eliminating most of the built up grime and muck on his old clothes. There are even the same designs embroidered into the hems of most of Shen Yuan’s clothes, which had caught Shen Jiu’s interest. He hadn’t known cultivation had so many different facets.

Learning the theory has been its own journey, full of trial and thankfully minor errors. Suddenly combusting talisman paper, scorched grass, a few holes through his outer layers and one very memorable, very misplaced tree. All of this with the books Shen Yuan had pulled from the depths of his qiankun pouch and the man’s enthusiastic supervision. When Shen Yuan had discovered that one of Shen Jiu’s goals is to redesign the standard cleaning talisman, he’d laughed but hadn’t done anything more to remind Shen Jiu of his mistake. 

Shen Yuan hadn’t argued with him further, the singular time Shen Jiu had protested the older man removing his clothes before tending to their then charge — an unconscious, injured Three Clawed Climbing Boar. Fully clothed, Shen Yuan had talked him through removing the iron spike which embedded in the boar’s leg, flesh half healed around it. Later that same day had seen them both crouched at the edge of the river, scrubbing at stains which never would completely wash free. 

Cleaning talismans, as it turns out, are excellent at very specific things. Travel dirt, mud, rain, and general grime? Human blood? Erased without a trace. 

Monster entrails? Ichor? Viscera and inhuman blood and more bodily fluids than you ever knew existed?

Not helpful at all, as Shen Jiu’s unfortunately discovered. No matter how uncomfortable he is with Shen Yuan dressed in so little — how viscerally uncomfortable it feels, to match him — Shen Jiu does. He’s sick of scrubbing at impossible to remove stains, arms aching from mid back to fingertip.

Besides, after a year, Shen Jiu… 

Trust is a powerful thing, double edged and unwieldy. Only one person has ever held Shen Jiu’s trust and Qi-ge is years dead, now. To say that he trusts Shen Yuan unconditionally would be a lie — but so would claiming to not trust him at all. Instead Shen Jiu inhabits an oddly liminal space where he waits for his distrust to be validated and is, each time, proven wrong. 

A full year and Shen Jiu has peeled back so many layers of Shen Yuan. His easy affability, his obsession with all manner of beasts, his sharp tongue and occasional mean streak — neither ever directed at Shen Jiu, even when he might deserve such a thing. Caustic and intelligent and utterly foolish; as likely to spot an expertly hidden trap as he is to walk off the side of a cliff in pursuit of some animal. 

At the very least, Shen Jiu now trusts Shen Yuan not to kill him in his sleep or use him as creature bait. More shocking, perhaps, is that he trusts Shen Yuan to keep his eyes and hands to himself; trusts the older man enough to let Shen Yuan sit on the bank and keep guard while Shen Jiu washes, rather than run him off. 

Honestly, Shen Jiu isn’t sure if Shen Yuan’s ever thought about sex — not just with Shen Jiu, but in general. It’s certainly not lack of options or opportunities which keeps Shen Yuan celibate. An upright wandering cultivator with reputable sect ties; tall and handsome and strong, eager to help for only a pittance in return. Usually all he wants to be paid in is food, shelter and tales of local beasts — and it’s really only the last that he insists on. He could’ve stepped right from a tale of some kind, even with the way he doesn’t care whether or not he’s improperly attired. 

Regrettably, all that does is give the man an air of roguish charm, which is otherwise entirely unearned. 

If Shen Jiu hadn’t spent so much time with the man, he’d simply assume that faux ignorance is Shen Yuan’s way of politely turning down his admirers. Casual questioning after the fact has consistently revealed that the man simply does not notice. Once in a blue moon — when the person has been horrifically, unforgivably bold with their intent — Shen Yuan will catch a clue. 

Whenever this happens, Shen Yuan is not just confused, he’s panicked. Borderline desperate to extricate himself from the situation. Mere weeks after meeting, Shen Jiu had been witness to such an occasion. Such an obvious reaction couldn’t have caught his attention harder if it’d tried. Another month or two — and some unsalvageable robes — and Shen Jiu had received another piece of Shen Yuan’s puzzle. 

Formal education, though dearly wanted, has never been needed. Shen Jiu’s always been smart; smart enough to keep himself and Qi-ge fed while still collecting money for their owners. Smart enough to cling to Haitang when the true situation in the Qiu household was revealed to him. 

Smart enough to look at Shen Yuan and see all the things that don’t quite fit. 

Shen Yuan’s love for all manner of beasts is seemingly unending; he barely tolerates the existence of most humans, for all he puts on a good show when they’re in towns. Social cues are hit or miss — the more unspoken they are, the higher the chance that Shen Yuan barrels through them without a thought. Even Shen Jiu, born the lowest a person can be, knows more than Shen Yuan does. 

Shen Yuan had to rebuild his golden gore, once. He’s eagerly helping Shen Jiu correct all the defects and imperfections in his body; he doesn’t just know how, he remembers how. 

Beneath his fine clothes, Shen Yuan is covered in more scars than Shen Jiu is. Cultivation fades physical impurities, eventually. Scars, freckles, acne, bad joints. According to Shen Yuan, even broken bones will heal without a trace, if given enough time. 

How bad were Shen Yuan’s scars that even now, after over a decade of cultivation, they’re still so visible? Silvered and thin, so many of them are still so recognisable. So few from the beasts Shen Yuan loves so well. 

Whoever used to beat Shen Yuan, it’s clear they held little care for whether he lived or died. From his shoulders to his knees, the familiar lines of a whip are etched into his flesh. Some of the marks are low enough that he must have faced the very real danger of never walking the same again. Knife marks on his shoulders, his upper arms, his chest and stomach. About three months ago, Shen Jiu realised that even the soles of Shen Yuan’s feet had been significantly scarred; there’s so little unscarred skin that he’d simply assumed that was the natural colour of the man’s soles. 

Shen Jiu hadn’t asked. Sick curiosity burns in his heart, but he can guess the broad strokes without being foolish enough to bring up such a loaded topic. That said, Shen Jiu had made some subtle inquiries about Shen Yuan’s past. Given Shen Yuan’s usual level of obliviousness, they should’ve slid past unnoticed; they hadn’t. Sharp green eyes, similar but so different to Shen Jiu’s own, had caught his gaze. For a moment, it’d seemed like Shen Yuan was reaching directly into Shen Jiu’s chest, wrapping one calloused hand around his heart, weighing his worth. 

Then, Shen Yuan had given a broad, carefree smile and lied. 

Aaah, I don’t remember a thing before I turned sixteen. Qian Cao says if I haven’t got my memories back by now, it’s likely they’re gone for good.  

Shen Jiu cannot fault him for the lie, no matter how it’d felt to hear it. After all, Shen Jiu’s avoided all questions of his own past, though he’d just refused to answer and bristled instead of lying. 

What weighs on his mind instead is — if Shen Yuan is Shen Jiu’s elder brother, Shen Jiu can no longer hate him for it. Whatever life he lived after their (possible) separation, prior to his arrival at Cang Qiong, it had not been the easy, privileged life which Shen Jiu had initially envisioned — had envied, simmering with jealousy and the first strains of hatred. Those feelings have long since been extinguished, and the emotions left behind are… odd. 

It’s easiest to embrace his confusion, his exasperation — Shen Yuan is a fool, and Shen Jiu is increasingly less wary of telling him so. 

Despite their horrific nature, despite the story they tell, Shen Yuan makes no effort to hide his numerous scars. There’s no thought, no concern for the intimacy of such a display; Shen Yuan’s far more concerned with ‘this damned heat’ and ‘how am I supposed to wrestle a three clawed climbing boar with this much fabric everywhere?’ 

Make no mistake, despite the significant amount of time they spend isolated from all humanity, Shen Yuan still makes a public show of himself. It’s one thing to act so brazenly in the middle of a forest with no witnesses but Shen Jiu — it’s entirely another to keep such a propensity when in the middle of a town! Shedding down to those obscene underlayers of his, so much skin on display, entirely unconcerned with the ravenous eyes desperate to devour him. 

In an entirely tactless — and see through — attempt to get closer to Shen Yuan, people dare to ask after his scars. The first time he’d witnessed such a thing, Shen Jiu had poisoned an entire inn. Not fatally. Just enough to teach a lesson. Unfortunately, what he’d thought to be a one off was actually one thread in a much larger pattern. Shen Yuan, fool that he is, is entirely unconcerned by such questions. In a move which had somewhat calmed Shen Jiu’s ire, Shen Yuan made up even more ridiculous lies than the one he’d told to Shen Jiu. 

A hundred different stories, each as false as the last. 

A pack of Pale Razor Clawed Puffins surprised him; a Spined Slinking Four Headed Cassowary — pink, rather than blue — had fiercely defended the nest Shen Yuan had accidentally found; he stumbled into the middle of a Transforming Razor Mawed Berry Tortoise’s transformation sequence. 

Most people believe Shen Yuan’s tales, so enthusiastic and detailed he is when telling him. Soft, sheltered idiots, every one of them. He cannot imagine what it must be like, to be unable to tell human cruelty from an animal related accident. 

Another balm to Shen Jiu’s stung pride is that, other than the lie about his past, Shen Yuan doesn’t lie. Not to Shen Jiu. He’ll talk around an issue, ramble, or simply shut a conversation down, but he doesn’t lie. In fact, he even goes out of his way to clear up any lies that Shen Jiu has overheard.  

After one of Shen Yuan’s stories, told to an enthralled crowd, he’ll retire with Shen Jiu. Whether they bed down in a rented room or in a tent makes no difference; Shen Yuan will tell him the real stories behind each animal mentioned. Lately, Shen Jiu has even taken the initiative and started to ask. 

This is from the puffins, Shen Yuan had displayed the tiniest knick on the edge of one knuckle, and then he’d titled his hand and pointed out a different, equally small scar. Oh, maybe this one? They’re so cute, it’s almost impossible to stop them gnawing on your hand. It barely hurts and it’s great enrichment for them, to be honest! 

No scars at all, Shen Yuan laughed, about the berry tortoise, the berry in their name comes from their size! Fully transformed, they’re smaller than the palm of your hand! I tried to sneak whole pockets full up the mountain when I was younger. Shizun wasn’t impressed and I had to give them all to the beast peak.

What, you think I want to die? Ah?? He’d spluttered, as though he doesn’t frequently disregard his personal safety in favour of getting close to some fauna or flora which has caught his attention. As soon as I realised the cassowary was nesting I left the area! I’m not a fool. 

Extremely debatable, but Shen Jiu had let that one slide with little more than an unconvinced look.

All this to say, Shen Jiu — unlike the local populace, currently both scandalised and quietly thrilled — is entirely unsurprised that Shen Yuan has stripped down. Wearing nought but a thin, sleeveless undershirt that barely brushes past the waistband of the smallest pair of shorts Shen Jiu’s ever seen, Shen Yuan prepares to educate the town. 

Flagged down as they meandered through the main — only — road through what can only technically be described as a farming ‘village’, Shen Yuan had agreed to help with their problem. With the usual caveats, of course. If their issue was a beast or creature or something similarly animalistic — and it wasn’t actively killing people — he wouldn’t kill it. At most he’d relocate the thing to a less populous area. More often, like today, he’s teaching the locals the benefits of working with — or at least around — their new local wildlife. 

“What we have here is a Misty Tailed Hyena Mole,” Shen Yuan holds up the hefty mole with ease, showing no strain despite the thing being similar in size to his torso and incredibly dense. If the mole wasn’t actively producing a cloud of mist, Shen Jiu’s sure most of their watchers would’ve swooned at the sight. Shen Jiu’s thankful to the beast, for protecting his Shen Yuan’s modesty. 

As it is, however — despite being unable to see much at all below Shen Yuan’s neck — these villagers still have their eyes affixed to Shen Yuan. Some of them appear to be close to swooning.  

Tasteless swine. 

“Not to be confused with the Misty Hyena Tailed Venomous Stumpy Mole. My lovely assistant, Shen Jiu, will be pointing out the key differences while I speak. Come closer, come closer, how can you all see from so far away?”

Lovely, he said. There’s always something. My excellent assistant. My talented assistant. My brilliant assistant. My dedicated Shen Jiu, once, which’d stuck itself in Shen Jiu’s brain and has yet to give him a moment’s peace.

Praise, always, as though he’s never felt the bite of the whip, never felt himself rotting inside from month after year of brutal abuse. Like it’s easy; easy to live, to laugh. Broad smiles and frequent laughter and a sincere camaraderie that he’s extended to Shen Jiu from the very beginning. Shen Yuan makes no sense. 

Sometimes he makes Shen Jiu feel entirely hollow inside. Too weak to make himself anew properly, condemned to be nothing but a distorted reflection of the malicious men who’d made him. It’s not as though Shen Jiu hasn’t tried — tried to ape Shen Yuan, tried to be friendly and nice and, and approachable. Scant hours pass before he’s ready to lash out, as much of a liability to any village as whichever beast they’re tracking. 

Whatever kindness Shen Jiu has inside of him, it does not come from a deep well, able to be shared without thought. All that he has, barely enough to fill his cupped hands, must be kept and hoarded and given only to someone who has earnt it. In his whole life, he has only ever extended such a hand to three people. 

Qi-ge, who would’ve stayed at Shen Jiu’s side forever and ruined them both. Qi-ge, who’d never returned, who’d died questing for a way to find them both a better life.

Qiu Haitang, that naive fool. Entirely ignorant to the realities of the world, of her own home. His only refuge in that cursed house. He hated her. She’d been the closest thing he had to a friend. Still roiling with feelings complex enough that he simply shut them all away, he’d saved her life. All debt between them, all ties, have been wiped clear. They’re no longer anything to each other. 

After mere hours with Wu Yanzi, Shen Jiu had known that he could reserve the rest of his meagre kindness solely for himself.

Now there’s Shen Yuan, so unexpected a boon that Shen Jiu still expects his feet to be swept out from under him. Surely this is some trick; surely he is still in that temple, dying, hallucinating. With great care, Shen Yuan teaches him and does not mind Shen Jiu’s refusal to call him a formal title. Shen Yuan defends him from any who take offence to Shen Jiu’s sharp words, always sliding himself between Shen Jiu and any aggressor, be they peasant or cultivator. 

There is no reason for any of this. If Shen Yuan had treated Shen Jiu as though he were a rat, it would not have been any different to how the rest of the world saw him. Instead, kindness. Instead, education, patience. Instead, friendship. 

Instead, trust.

Shen Yuan sleeps heavily and easily when Shen Jiu has the watch, as though he’s never contemplated the idea of Shen Jiu’s betrayal. When Shen Jiu is accused of something by townspeople, Shen Yuan takes Shen Jiu’s side without hesitation. He does not even investigate, first. Shen Yuan just… believes him, believes Shen Jiu. Has anyone ever believed Shen Jiu so readily? Without taking a moment to hear all sides, without weighing whether the word of such a pathetic being is worth anything at all — sight unseen, Shen Yuan supports him, no matter the accusation.

Unfounded accusations are increasingly rare, the longer Shen Jiu spends in Shen Yuan’s company. Each month that passes sees him looking less like a thieving urchin and more like an upright member of society. It’s less to do with the clothes Shen Yuan drapes him in and more with the way Shen Jiu holds himself, the look in his eyes. When he’s with Shen Yuan, Shen Jiu almost feels like he could be… more than he is. Like he could be a person, not just some scheming rat with more blood on his hands than he knows what to do with. 

For long months Shen Jiu has twisted it over and over in his mind. There must be something he cannot see, some vital puzzle piece, any explanation for this stroke of unexpected luck. All that he has left are scraps of larger ideas and even they are slowly disintegrating between his fingers, undermined by Shen Yuan’s continuing care. 

Much as Shen Jiu would like to deny it, Shen Yuan does care for him. Why else would he nurse Shen Jiu through sickness? Why else would he hunt down rare plants and panaceas, solely to give them to Shen Jiu? To fix his injured meridians and fractured core? To heal the damage a lifetime of malnutrition has wrought on his body? Why else would he treat Shen Jiu as a human?

It’s made Shen Jiu bold. Unforgivably bold, perhaps, but Shen Jiu knows well the capriciousness of life; if he can take something, he will. Even if being caught is ruinous, even if it leaves him beaten and broken — momentary use and fleeting pleasure have always been better than nothing at all. It’s always worth the risk, especially since Shen Jiu’s usually confident that he’s smart enough not to get caught. 

So Shen Jiu has pushed, and pushed, and tested the boundaries. Pressing upon them, sure that he’d find Shen Yuan’s limit soon. Enjoying the give before the inevitable backlash; preparing for said backlash, marginally confident in his increasingly healthy body and improving cultivation to protect him from the worst of it. After all, Shen Yuan is soft. Whatever punishment he deals out, Shen Jiu’s had worse. 

Shen Jiu’s still waiting to hit Shen Yuan’s hard limit. Waiting for something to snap, to be put back in his place, to find the end of Shen Yuan’s patience. 

Two and a half months ago, Shen Jiu thought he’d finally found it. Instead, he’s found himself in charge of both their budget and Shen Yuan’s purse. 

From what Shen Jiu’s seen, there’s an overlap in behaviour between the nauseatingly rich and the excruciatingly poor. The type of poor that Shen Jiu knows, where there’s no money to be had at all. One coin in the hand will, realistically, never find a second coin to rub against, so why bother saving? If you keep the coin out of some vague hope that you can save more to buy something bigger, better — all that means is you stay hungry tonight, all it means is someone will pry it from your hand while you sleep and you’ll wish you’d spent recklessly instead. 

At first, it’d seemed like Shen Yuan spent like a spoiled rich brat. Buying this and that, not bothering to haggle, acting as though his coin purse will never run dry — Shen Jiu had hated him for it. As time went on, as more of Shen Yuan’s unstable past had been revealed, Shen Jiu gradually came to realise that it was simply another thing they had in common. Unlike Shen Jiu, however, Shen Yuan never learnt how to be money savvy. No one had taught either of them but Shen Jiu, at least, had the brains to figure it out. 

Watching Shen Yuan be irresponsible with his money — with the money Shen Jiu now relies upon as well — is frustrating. Maddening, when Shen Jiu knows that he could cut the price almost in half; when he knows Shen Yuan is getting ripped off and the fool is too empty headed to even realise. 

If he hadn’t been so frustrated, Shen Jiu would’ve bitten his tongue. But, month after month of watching Shen Yuan be a fool had already left his tongue bloody from self-restraint, and Shen Jiu could do nothing but lash out instead. How could he stay silent, when Shen Yuan was about to make an ill-advised purchase with money that was supposed to pay for their inn room?

For someone who complained so heartily about camping, Shen Yuan was frustratingly loose with the money which would keep them indoors.

Common sense or not, Shen Jiu had still expected — something. Derision at the very least, a casual slap; Shen Yuan’s patience to abruptly reach an end. Instead, Shen Jiu hadn’t even been told off, or chastised for questioning Shen Yuan in front of an outsider. Instead Shen Yuan had — to say that he’d argued is both correct and not. Mostly not, to be honest. 

Shen Yuan, venerable cultivator of Cang Qiong’s Qing Jing Peak, had… wheedled.  

As though Shen Yuan needed to convince him the purchase was a good idea in order to buy it; as though Shen Jiu had any authority at all. Pressing his luck — partially motivated by the literal storm readying to break, partly because Shen Jiu is compelled to push against boundaries until he’s beaten into place — Shen Jiu had told him no. 

The result should be obvious. Even as he’d said it, frowning and looking down his nose at Shen Yuan, Shen Jiu had known the outcome. 

He hadn’t. 

Shen Jiu had said no, it’s overpriced and unnecessary.  

Shen Yuan had listened. 

Complained, whined and proceeded with the aforementioned wheedling? Certainly. But, despite holding both the power and the coin, Shen Yuan hadn’t bought a thing. The money stayed in their purse and, that night, they’d stayed at a nearby inn while a storm raged outside. 

You were right, Shen Yuan had sighed as he’d sunk into the bath. This is better than that stupid book.  

Months later, Shen Jiu still remembers everything about it. Shen Yuan’s sigh as he’d moved away from the overpriced book, draping himself half over Shen Jiu’s shoulder as they’d left, bemoaning his cruel assistant who wouldn’t let him have anything fun. From Shen Yuan’s silhouette thrown against the privacy screen that night, to the scent of the cheap incense and cheaper tea, to the lingering taste of dinner in his mouth. Most of all, Shen Yuan’s voice. You were right, he’d said easily, as though it cost him nothing. As though he’d said it before and would say it again. As though anyone had ever said such a thing to Shen Jiu. 

That’d been the first time Shen Yuan had so openly said that Shen Jiu was right, but it wasn’t the last. Again and again and again, and each time Shen Jiu tucks it away to turn over later, once Shen Yuan’s asleep. 

Two and a half months ago, Shen Jiu had really pushed his luck. It was a small thing, if useless; they could’ve afforded it nevertheless. Such a small trifle and Shen Jiu hadn’t been able to help himself. No, he’d said, strict and unyielding, knowing that Shen Yuan would see through such a blatant attempt at control. Knowing the older man would disregard him entirely. 

With a sigh, his entire torso moving with the heartfelt force of it, Shen Yuan had capitulated. Ah, fine, he’d said, you’re much better than me with money. Here.  

Then he’d unwound his purse strings from their secure spot up his sleeve and dropped the whole thing in Shen Jiu’s hand. 

This is your problem now! Shen Yuan had said without any gravitas at all, as though entirely ignorant of the impact such a thing had on Shen Jiu. Since then, Shen Yuan hasn’t even checked up on the state of his purse — their purse. For all he knows, Shen Jiu’s spending money like water, ready to leave Shen Yuan behind the second the money runs out.

Later that same day, after he’d taken a proper accounting of their finances — more money than Shen Jiu had ever anticipated; no wonder Shen Yuan goes through it like water. The man probably can’t even conceptualise how much it’s worth. Shen Jiu can barely wrap his head around it, honestly — Shen Jiu had slid away from Shen Yuan, had returned to that stall. He’d bought Shen Yuan his stupid romance book, just as cheap as the pulp it’d been printed on. The delight on Shen Yuan’s face when he’d handed it over that night had been… 

Why should he thank Shen Jiu, when it’d been Shen Jiu who’d stopped him from buying it in the first place?

Such ruinous sincerity. Such idiocy. 

Shen Jiu hates him. He — He — 

If, after all that, Shen Yuan had reached for him in the night — Shen Jiu would not have refused. At the very least, it might put them on even ground. Might go some way to levelling things between them, to explaining why Shen Yuan gives and gives and gives. Give and take is the way of the world, always heavy on the take. 

For a while, Shen Jiu had wondered if… 

‘My’, Shen Yuan says all the time. My apprentice, my crispy lotus, my assistant, my, my, my. So casually possessive. Whatever hatred Shen Jiu had had for such a quirk has lessened over the months. After all, Shen Yuan hadn’t reacted when Shen Jiu had laid a hand on his arm, when he sat too close by the fire or pressed their thighs together while eating. So many little tests and Shen Yuan hadn’t been tripped up once by them. 

He claims Shen Jiu as his own and then does not make use of him. 

Much longer, any more kindness, and perhaps Shen Jiu will want to be used.

As it happens, Shen Yuan is not avoiding Cang Qiong and everything about it, he’s just… doing research. Teaching the pricky, crispy lotus that his Shen Jiu has turned out to be. What a find! What NPC’s have an IQ like that, huh? Not that NPC’s really exist in this world anymore, so far as Shen Yuan’s seen. All that rubbish kind of fizzled out when the System did — which happened through no fault of Shen Yuan’s own, he’d like it known. 

It’s not his fault the System isn’t immune to the Four Fanged Sweet Sleeper! 

He’s just… walking very fast away from anyone or anything who could identify him and report his whereabouts to his Shizun. Look, Shen Yuan — despite all appearances — isn’t a chump. He’s not going to get saddled with mountains of never ending paperwork, all that responsibility and the fate of getting human sticked by a blackened Luo Binghe! No thank you! 

It’s all the System’s fault he ended up on Qing Jing instead of Shen Yuan’s beloved Beast Taming peak. He even tried to switch peaks after the System started, uh, glitching.  

To say that Shen Yuan’s Shizun had been displeased is somewhat of an understatement. How was Shen Yuan to know that he was the lead contender for head disciple? Sure, all his assorted martial siblings are fucking useless, but that’s hardly Shen Yuan’s fault — or problem! Why should he have to suffer, just because none of them have ‘leadership capabilities’? Shen Yuan doesn’t have what it takes to be a leader! He’s driven off every research assistant he’s ever had!

Personally, Shen Yuan thinks Lin-shifu’s doing it entirely out of spite. 

They have that in common, really, given that Shen Yuan’s been on the lam for multiple years, fueled by a similar spite. That old bastard had hated Shen Yuan from the moment he’d arrived on the peak — no matter how, uh, unconventional such an arrival had been — and he’s made it Shen Yuan’s problem ever since. 

All this to say, when Shen Yuan comes almost face to face with Mu-shidi when he’s teaching Shen Jiu all about the Weeping Tentacled Tiger Lily — it really sounds like a tiger when it cries! — he almost cuts and runs. Were it not for Shen Jiu, crouched next to him, Shen Yuan would’ve. 

Unfortunately for the entire situation, Shen Jiu notices Shen Yuan’s discomfort, which really turns this whole thing into a worst case scenario. After all, Jiu-er has a habit of… overreacting, when he thinks someone’s threatening Shen Yuan. It’s adorable! What a cute little bun, so protective over his… 

Two and a half years into this quasi-apprenticeship, and Shen Yuan’s honestly not sure what he is to Shen Jiu. Not shizun — the mere thought of it had given Shen Yuan hives; far too close to the fate he’s avoiding, back on Cang Qiong. Not master; they’d only known each other for a couple of days when it’d been brought up, and the way Shen Jiu’s hackles had raised had been extremely obvious. Shixiong, sometimes, when they’re in public. Other than that it’s just… Shen Yuan. 

Once, in an inn where their table had been remarkably crowded despite the emptiness of the rest of the room, it’d been ‘ge.’ Yuan-ge, said with a pout and fingers touching the back of Shen Yuan’s hand. So amusingly out of character that Shen Yuan had gotten the message immediately; time to go. Shen Jiu’s even more anti-social than Shen Yuan had been, in his original world. He’d hustled his assistant away from the remnants of their dinner and up to their room in record time. So sometimes it’s Yuan-ge, too, but only in odd and specific circumstances. 

Shen Yuan, of much more modern sensibilities, is perfectly fine with the lack of title. 

He would say it doesn’t matter, as Shen Jiu respects him the same no matter how he calls Shen Yuan but… that’s not quite as impactful as it should be, considering Shen Yuan’s not sure he has much of Shen Jiu’s respect at all. 

Which, honestly? Extremely valid. After so long stuck to Shen Yuan’s side, the little bun — not so little anymore, the bastard. Shen Yuan’s gonna have to start calling him Da Shen if he doesn’t stop growing — he’s seen Shen Yuan in all sorts of awkward situations. It was all over for Shen Yuan’s immortal cultivator image after that time Shen Jiu had to cut him free from a Corpse Devouring Poppy Vine — after the plant’s started to dissolve his clothes. That’d been embarrassing.  

Most of his boxers had been gone by the time he’d hit the forest floor! 

Even thinking about the incident is enough to have Shen Yuan’s chest burning with remembered embarrassment. He hadn’t been able to sleep easily for weeks, mind rotating the way he’d sprawled out on the forest floor, fabric barely bigger than his hand the only modesty he had left, Xiu Ya in Shen Jiu’s sure grip. 

He can’t believe he got caught by one of the most obvious carnivorous flora out there! He’d just been warning Shen Jiu about them, too, because they’re so easy to spot! It eats everything but metal, so watch out if you’re ever in a temperate forest and randomly see a whole bunch of metal next to some pretty flowers! Don’t think it’s your lucky day! Run!

There’d only been one piece of metal, however, and it’d looked exceedingly like an Umber Flying Fox skull, so he’d just… just gotten himself caught like a fool. If he hadn’t dropped Xiu Ya — also embarrassing; Shen Yuan likes to repress that part — then he would’ve been eaten and then what would either of them have done? 

But drop Xiu Ya he had and his beloved sword had, somehow, managed to respond to Shen Jiu. It hadn’t been a one off fluke, either, spurred by Shen Yuan’s mortal danger. Or, if that’d been the original plan, Xiu Ya’d changed her mind quite swiftly. Clearly Xiu Ya has the same good taste as Shen Yuan! 

It’s convenient, too. It’s not like Shen Yuan can really duck back to Cang Qiong just to get Shen Jiu a sword worthy of him. 

…Not that he’s avoiding the sect, of course. It’s just… logistics. Yeah. 

But with Xiu Ya happy to be shared between them, there’s no problem! 

Unfortunately that means if Shen Yuan doesn’t calm Jiu-er down soon, Mu-shidi might find himself at the wrong end of Xiu Ya. If Mu-shidi dies from Shen Yuan’s blade, the fallout will be… very not good. 

“Mu-shidi!” Shen Yuan springs up, overly enthusiastic in a which is sure to — yep, instantly Mu Qingfang’s on guard. Typical. A handful of years following the System’s guide for destroying relationships was all it took to undermine Shen Yuan’s standing with most of his sect siblings. Shen Yuan hasn’t been back at the sect enough — sans System — to change the impression. Not that he cares too much, honestly; the less the head disciples like him as a collective, the worse Shen Yuan’s chances of becoming Peak Lord are.

No Peak Lord, no awkward socialising — it’s a win/win in Shen Yuan’s book. 

Except for times like these. But this really is an outlier. 

“Ah. I don’t believe —”

“Yeah, yeah, ‘don’t believe you’re really that happy to see me’ or whatever, let’s not do that this time and just say we did, okay?” It’s always Mu-shidi he runs into, outside of the sect. Usually because Shen Yuan can hear Liu Qingge coming from miles away, given the man’s usually fighting something. 

“Wow, shaving really makes you look younger, Mu-shidi! Please, give whoever did it a handshake. …Ignore that. Anyway, this is my current assistant!” Shen Yuan pulls Shen Jiu up from where he’d been crouched on the ground, obviously ready to spring into action. Violently. And he wonders why Shen Yuan still calls him hǔ zǐ!

That said, Shen Yuan would love to see who’d win that fight. Mu Qingfang has a lot more training but Shen Jiu has more brutality in one finger than Mu-shidi has in his entire body. Shen Yuan’s seen his Jiu-er scare off mawed beasts with little more than body posturing and snarls. If getting so close wouldn’t endanger Shen Yuan’s precious life, he’d love to see his Jiu-er go toe to toe with Luo Binghe! Young Binghe, obviously, not the blackened Bingge.

Not that it’ll ever happen, of course; Luo Binghe’s birth is far, far into the future. Thankfully. Shen Yuan still has time to refine his plans for being anywhere that’s not here when the half-demon begins to turn the world upside down. 

If Shen Jiu does end up going to Cang Qiong, Shen Yuan will have to think up an evacuation plan for him, as well. 

Problems for future Shen Yuan! The list is enormous and only keeps growing but, luckily, that’s future Shen Yuan’s problem!

“Mu Qingfang, head disciple of Qian Cao Peak. This is Shen Jiu. Shen Jiu, Mu Qingfang.”

Shen Yuan’s strategy of ‘get through this quick before anyone can say or do anything’ appears to be working. Mu-shidi appears to be thoroughly confused, one hand hovering up by his lip, eyebrows furrowed like no one’s ever told him his patchy moustache was kind of tacky before. That… might be true. Whoops. The truth had to come out eventually! It’s not his fault! 

“Anyway, I assume the price for your silence is the usual?”

Look, Shen Yuan might not be actively avoiding the sect and his shizun, but… oh, who is he kidding, he absolutely is. If he has to bribe his martial siblings to keep his last known location a secret? He’ll do it without hesitation. 

“I’m sorry, but who —”

“Do not try and haggle with me this time, Mu-shidi! You don’t want to embarrass me in front of Jiu-er, do you? Aiyah, the disrespect, from my own shidi! Can you believe it, Jiu-er?”

From the look on Shen Jiu’s face, Shen Yuan knows the little brat wants to say yes. Thankfully for Shen Yuan’s plans, Jiu-er instead replies, 

“Anyone who doesn’t treat Yuan-ge with respect…” 

Ah…aha… that unfinished sentence is kind of unintentionally threatening, Jiu-er! This is why you have so many problems with towns folk! It’s Shen Yuan’s fault, really. He doesn’t know how to socialise feral children, okay! They don’t exactly have ‘how to’ books here. No ‘idiot’s guide to’ child psychology. 

“They should be taught a lesson,” Shen Jiu finally finishes with, which doesn’t really help the implied threat, but Shen Yuan thinks it’s probably fine. Mu-shidi knows better than to let some wild brat more than a decade younger than him get under his skin. 

Despite that, Mu-shidi does look kind of… wary. Huh. Maybe all Mu-shidi’s maturity was stored in the moustache. 

“I’m not trying to haggle,” Mu-shidi insists after a few moments, “I’m just… quite confused.”

“Have no fear, Mu-shidi! If my shizun does interrogate you, as long as you wait five days, you can spill the beans! Four days from now, so if you dawdle about getting back to the sect, you could even tell him from the first second he barks at you!” Five days, minimum, should let Shen Yuan and Shen Jiu get the fuck out of dodge successfully. Anything less than that and Shen Yuan runs the risk of being dragged back by his ears. 

“Because you’re… avoiding your shizun. Who’s from… Cang Qiong?” 

Shen Yuan gives the other man a bemused look. This seems like it’s going to turn into one of those situations where Shizun says ‘where’s Shen Yuan’ and Mu-shidi answers ‘who’s Shen Yuan.’ Shizun’s resultant explosion would certainly be catastrophic but if Mu-shidi’s willing to take one for the team like that, Shen Yuan’s certainly not going to stop him. 

“I love the hesitation. Really makes it seem like you’ve got no idea who I am. Lin-shifu’s gonna love that, I promise. He’s a real fan of jokes.”

Mu-shidi pales a bit, mouthing something that looks like ‘Lin-shifu’ if the words were distorted by pure apprehension. 

“Anyway, here’s your bribe: an Ancient Transforming Blue Dawn Bean is hidden behind a waterfall in a grotto about four and a half li from here, ripe for study and transplantation.”

Mu-shidi blinks once, twice. It’s amusing to see the man’s instinctive fear of Peak Lord Lin battle with his lust for knowledge and special interest in plants. Unsurprisingly, the plant wins, like it always does; Shen Yuan’s not foolish enough to bargain with subpar plants, after all. It’s always a boon to use his knowledge of PIDW to further fuck the plot, now that the System can’t do much but spark furiously. If Mu-shidi collects the Ancient Transforming Blue Dawn Bean now, it can’t be used for wife plot 182 in the future. 

That’s what you get when that hack Airplane uses ‘one in a thousand years’ to describe so many things. 

“I’ll even draw you a map. Do we have a deal, shidi?”

“I… alright. But I do have some questions? Uh… shixiong?”

“No questions,” Shen Jiu says, voice deep and firm. Aah, what a cute kid! Whenever they’re with strangers, Jiu-er likes to make himself sound like this. Maybe he thinks it makes himself seem more mature? It kind of works, but not on Shen Yuan. After all, Shen Yuan knows exactly what his voice sounds like — weirdly, it’s eerily similar to Shen Yuan’s own voice. Disconcertingly similar, actually, now that Shen Jiu’s voice has finally settled down after puberty. 

Hearing his own voice in the dark of their campsite would usually be a sign that something’s about to try and eat him, but it’s always just Shen Jiu telling him to wake up for his watch. 

It’s probably because Shen Yuan used the same healing techniques on the both of them. That was bound to have some effect. Plus — and he’d never let Shen Jiu hear him say this — but you know how people and their pets start to look similar after a while? They’ve got that going on, too. Weirdly identical faces, in the right light. 

While Shen Jiu does his best to play with Mu-shidi like a cat does some poor mouse — and Mu-shidi lets him, despite being clearly the most level headed of all the head disciples; maybe he thinks Shen Jiu’s as cute as Shen Yuan does! 

That’d be the best for Shen Jiu, to have someone willing to indulge him if he does end up going back to Cang Qiong, but… it’s an uncomfortable thought to have. Jiu-er is Shen Yuan’s adorable, stabby tag along. Mu Qingfang would get aerated within a week! It’s only Shen Yuan’s years of being pushed about by the System that let him keep a straight face and calm composure during those first few months with Shen Jiu.

Now he knows that Shen Jiu shows affection like a cat — with mild to moderate violence and quiet silences — but back then? Several close calls, really. Mu-shidi wouldn’t be able to cut it. 

With that thought in mind, Shen Yuan grins as he hands over the completed, if rudimentary, map. 

“Pleasure doing business with you, Mu-shidi. Got everything?” He asks Jiu-er, who nods, still keeping a wary eye on Mu-shidi. 

Without any further ado, Shen Yuan unsheathes Xiu Ya and steps onto her. Shen Jiu follows seamlessly — standing closer to the back, that little brat, like he thinks Shen Yuan will finally let him drive — and then they get the fuck out of dodge. Shen Yuan’s sure his adrenaline’s spiking through the metaphorical roof. Mu Qingfang was acting far too weird for Shen Yuan to trust him to keep his mouth shut for five full days. Maybe Lin shifu’s started to throw around some new threats. If so, terrifying. 

Back down in the clearing, holding a map to a rare flower and utterly bewildered by a man he’s never seen before, recently elected Qian Cao head disciple Mu Qingfang says to himself,

“Maybe I should grow a moustache.”

Three years and if Shen Jiu knows nothing else in the world, he knows three things. 

First, Shen Yuan is sincere. So much time spent in suspicion; Shen Jiu will not say that such time was wasted, because self-protection and self-interest can never be a waste. He can admit, however, that he clung to such ideas for far too long, sure that he was simply encountering some level of manipulation that he’d never before seen. 

But there is no other shoe ready to drop. No carefully lain trap waiting to snap shut. Never once has Shen Yuan looked at Shen Jiu and seen a tool, a commodity, a thing rather than a person. To him Shen Jiu is not a street rat, not a slave, not the lingering shadow of a corrupt cultivator, blood up to his unrepentant elbows. 

In all the world there is only one person who could possibly look at Shen Jiu and smile; who could wake up in the middle of the night to Shen Jiu’s eyes on him — to Shen Jiu standing close to the edge of his bed, undeniable possession in his gaze — and be happy to see him. 

Nightmare? He’ll ask, the word slurring out of his tired tongue. No matter the truth, Shen Jiu agrees. Then, without hesitation, Shen Yuan will allow his Jiu-er to climb into bed with him. A soothing hand runs across Shen Jiu’s hair, or shoulder, or back, and then Shen Yuan’s asleep again within moments. He’s so warm, when Shen Jiu holds him. 

Never before has Shen Jiu been given so much affection with nothing at all expected in return. 

It’s made him undeniably greedy. But then, he already was. He is more bottomless pit than man, now, eager to devour as much of Shen Yuan as he can. 

The second thing Shen Jiu knows is: Shen Yuan needs a firm hand. Whoever let Shen Yuan out of their sight was a fool; this Peak Lord Lin should’ve bound Shen Yuan to his peak instead of letting him run off into the wilderness with so many dreams inside his head. Cang Qiong’s loss is Shen Jiu’s gain. 

Of all the people it could’ve been — and Shen Jiu knows that both cultivators and mortals alike would be lining the streets, if they knew of the opportunity — it is Shen Jiu who is allowed to be that firm hand. Shen Yuan allows him this, without hesitation, without serious complaint. He complains, of course, but that’s because Shen Yuan likes to. He likes to talk, like to whine, likes to sharpen his tongue and verbally duel with Shen Jiu. 

If ever Shen Yuan had seen him as a child, such a thing had stopped from the moment their coin purse had settled in Shen Jiu’s clammy palm. 

You do not give a child control of the finances; you do not listen when a child tells you how much to spend and on what. You do not let a child tell you what to do, period. Shen Yuan has done all those things. He has never attempted to stand over Shen Jiu, or belittle  him, or push him about. In fact, the only time Shen Yuan tells Shen Jiu what to do with any serious intent is when they’re dealing with flora and fauna. Apart from that? Everything’s negotiable. 

So long as Shen Jiu can argue his point, Shen Yuan will allow himself to be swayed. Sometimes Shen Yuan wins, sometimes Shen Jiu, but such things are so equal between them that there is almost no point in counting. 

(Shen Jiu still counts; he is in the lead. He is always in the lead. Shen Yuan is far too indulgent and it would take a far better man than Shen Jiu to not take advantage of that. Shen Jiu never claimed to be a good man so it’s really Shen Yuan’s fault for letting him get close.)

Thirdly, lastly — most importantly: 

Shen Yuan is his. Just as Shen Jiu is Shen Yuan’s. They are the same side of a single coin. How could they exist without each other, at this point? 

Shen Jiu’s worked hard to make it so. 

He’ll eat Shen Yuan alive before the other man can ever get away from him. 

Luckily for the both of them, Shen Yuan has no intention of leaving. In fact, hilariously, he seems to worry over Shen Jiu leaving. On their very first meeting Shen Jiu had mentioned Cang Qiong — nothing but a castle in the sky to him; more useful as a manipulation tool against a stranger than a true want — but Shen Yuan apparently internalised it. Heard it once and then decided, all on his own, that it was Shen Jiu’s dream. 

Ever since then, he’s been waiting for Shen Jiu to announce his departure for the sect. Ridiculous man; he will set foot in those mountains the very second that Shen Yuan does, and will leave them at the same moment. It’s amusing, in a pathetic kind of way, that Shen Yuan has yet to figure out that he’ll never get rid of Shen Jiu. 

They’re a matched set, now.

Shen Jiu wields Xiu Ya as though he pulled it from the stone himself, and Shen Yuan thinks they could ever go their separate ways?

Oblivious fool. 

Whether they truly have no relation to each other, their similar bodies nothing but a coincidence — whether they’re brothers separated, yet suffering the same cruelties enacted upon their bodies — it doesn’t matter. The time before they came into each other's lives no longer matters. No one else in the world can hold the same claim on Shen Yuan that Shen Jiu has.

It’s equally undoubtable that the reverse is true. Even if Qi-ge was, somehow, miraculously alive, he could only equal Shen Yuan’s hold on him, not supersede it. 

They are bound together, irrevocably — well, not quite. Not yet. Shen Jiu has a plan for that, of course. Another few years, another few strings pulled here and there. If that doesn’t pan out, there’s always those near ubiquitous flowers; the aphrodisiacs, the ones Shen Yuan’s too flustered to talk about in anything other than broad strokes or entirely scientifically, speaking only of the plants physical aspects and nothing of its effects. 

It’d be hard to manage, of course. He can imagine Shen Yuan’s horror if they ended up dosed, but he also knows Shen Yuan would never let him die. His horror is the reason they must both get hit by the pollen, though it’d be much easier for Shen Jiu to infect only himself. 

If they’re both afflicted, both suffering, then it will only bind them tighter together. Shen Yuan cannot withdraw, guilty and self-sacrificing, if such a thing would then reflect back on Shen Jiu. For a plan of last resort, it’s quite tempting, if only for how much time it’d save. But Shen Jiu can be patient. Neither of them are going anywhere without the other, after all. 

At least everyone who sees them already knows that they belong together, with their matching clothes and their matching faces and their spiritual sword, shared equally between them. Even their qi is similar, as though it were possible to share one dantian across two bodies; they could be twins, were it not for the age difference. It thrills him to have some small village believe wholeheartedly that they are a pair of cultivator brothers. 

Thrills him more to let them think that, to encourage it — and Shen Yuan always encourages it, whether he realises it or not — and then to act in a way which is distinctly unbrotherly. To lay claim in an entirely different way, to watch their eyes blow wide with confusion and disgust; they never try to seduce Shen Yuan when they think he’s fucking his precious baby brother. All the better for Shen Jiu, to not have to fend off so many deeply unworthy, grasping hands. 

Sometimes — and this would be his secret shame, if Shen Jiu cared at all about things like shame, like societal values — Shen Jiu likes to pretend that they are brothers, even to himself. Even when he’s taking himself in hand, Shen Yuan deeply asleep in the same room; in the same bed, sometimes. It is an odd thing to know about yourself, that blood relation is no boundary. That, should someone prove tomorrow that they were truly brothers, Shen Jiu would still feel the same. Would still want the same. 

Without a doubt, it is wrong for Shen Jiu to imagine such things. To pretend that Shen Yuan, his Shen Yuan — this man who he holds so near, the only man he trusts, the man who has somehow managed to pull Shen Jiu’s heart from his very chest and yet does nothing but keep it safe and protected — 

All this, and Shen Jiu desires them to be closer still. Not just physically, though that as well. A blood tie is something that cannot be undone, cannot be walked away from. 

Shen Yuan would only allow one or the other, however. If they are lovers they cannot be brothers; if they are brothers they cannot consummate that which has been growing between them these last years. It’s simple, really. Obvious. If Shen Jiu posed the same question to any man on the street, he would say the same. 

And yet…

Shen Jiu is greedy. Always, always greedy. 

He will find a way to have his cake and eat it too. 

“What did I tell you?” 

Shen Jiu’s voice, quiet though it is, breaks the silence like a whip crack. 

“Well, Jiu-er, you really tell me a lot of things, so — ah!”

Shen Jiu, applying a salve to the severe burn across Shen Yuan’s thigh, doesn’t even bother to give an insincere smile as an apology. Ah, where did that young assistant go! The one who always thought he’d be left behind and spent all of his time catering to Shen Yuan’s whims! 

…Okay, when put like that, Shen Yuan much prefers this. Plus, that too eager, entirely insincere Shen Jiu disappeared like a mirage in less than a month. This mouthy, feral brat has been in his place ever since. 

“Don’t go looking for the Hot Honey Badger alone.” Shen Yuan recites, leaving out the several curses Shen Jiu had added before he’d left camp this morning. It’s been several years since Shen Jiu muscled Shen Yuan out of doing their supply runs; honestly, it’s a pretty sweet deal. It’s Jiu-er who has to deal with all the people and the haggling, and Shen Yuan can laze about their camp reading the trashy novels they both pretend Shen Jiu doesn’t buy for him. 

Not to say that Shen Yuan doesn’t pull his own weight! It’s just that most chores are made quick and easy by cultivation. Most of their camps aren’t even close to semi-permanent, so there’s few enough camp chores to do and everything else is an even split. So, when Shen Jiu treks into the nearest town — fully armed, even if Shen Yuan wins the paper-scissors-rock for Xiu Ya; the amount of knives Shen Jiu can fit on his person is truly obscene and oddly captivating, not to mention he’d taken to Shen Yuan’s leaf trick like a fish to water. When Shen Jiu’s away, there’s usually little enough to do apart from reading. 

Except, sometimes, they’re camped close to something really, really interesting. 

“And what did you do?”

Shen Yuan flinches as another handful of salve is slapped onto his fresh burn. It’s not carelessly, for not a speck of it goes astray, but it’s certainly not careful. Perhaps it’s better to say it’s carefully calculated to give the most pain with the least amount of damage. Shen Jiu, as always, is a passive aggressive little fuck. Not even little anymore! The biggest crime! He’s a quarter of a head taller than Shen Yuan and never lets him forget it. 

“I went after the badgers. Look, Shen Jiu —”

“Shut up.”

“But —”

“Shut. Up.”

Shen Yuan, well trained (kind of), shuts up.

They sit in silence, the only sound being the birds and Shen Yuan’s occasional hiss of pain. Sure he could grit his teeth and soldier on in silence, but why would he? Shen Jiu’s seen him in much worse states than this! So what if he groans? So what if he whines? As long as he doesn’t start squirming, Shen Jiu’s not going to call him on it. 

In a short lull, where Shen Yuan does little more than suck in a sharp breath, Shen Jiu says,

“This is the last of our burn cream.” His voice is kinda rough; fumes from the topical ointment, maybe? It is fairly strong, after all. Certified Qian Cao recipe! After the second time Shen Yuan limped back to Lin-shifu with third degree burns, the crotchety old man had sent him over and made him learn until he could make it in his sleep. 

“Don’t worry, I made a new batch, remember?”

“This is the new batch.”

“...Ah. You sure?”

That, predictably, nets him an extremely unimpressed expression. Shen Jiu keeps track of all their supplies, as well. Sometimes, Shen Yuan wonders who’s really in charge around here!

“Anything else we’re low on?”

“Apart from common sense?”

“Oh we’ve got lots of that! Not my fault you’re hoarding it.” Shen Yuan sends the other man a fond smile. He’s rewarded with Shen Jiu ducking his head, attempting to hide his own smile with the curtain of his hair. Shen Yuan still sees it, though, and is utterly delighted by the sight of it. His Jiu-er’s smiles aren’t exactly rare but it’s still an enchanting sight to see. Especially given the way he always tries to hide it! Sometimes he even goes so far as to press his entire face against Shen Yuan’s hair, or his shoulder, as though it’s a crime if anyone else sees how happy he is!

Shen Yuan’s pretty sure the reason for that is ‘something, something trauma’, which he knows better than to try and dig about. His Jiu-er is sensitive, okay? Sensitive and so handsome! Better to think about how much his not-quite-apprentice has grown than linger over the distant past. Besides, Shen Jiu always seems to know if Shen Yuan’s ruminating over things he shouldn’t be and Shen Yuan doesn’t want to tempt fate when his thigh looks like a chargrilled steak. 

Better to think — ah, Shen Jiu’s become such a handsome man! If they spent any time amongst people, he’d be beating them off with a stick!

…Wait.

Wait.

Is that why Shen Jiu wants to be the one to go into the towns? Why he wants to go alone, weirdly insistent that Shen Yuan stay in camp, far away from everyone else??

“Hey, if you wanted to get married, you’d tell me, right?”

Shen Jiu drops the burn cream. His ears, delightfully, turn pink. 

“Shen Yuan!” He barks, flustered and entirely taken aback. “Shut your mouth!”

Obediently, Shen Yuan doesn’t chase the subject. He’s got his answer, anyway. No pigs have come to steal his cabbage away, not yet! And given how prickly Shen Jiu is with strangers, perhaps not ever! Wouldn’t that be nice! Just the two of them gallivanting around, researching interesting flora and fauna, until — well, until the world ends, but Shen Yuan’s got a plan for that!

Unsurprisingly, his glitchy system attempts to protest that. These last few months, the little bastard has tried to pop up again. It goes through phases of attempting to work; Shen Yuan’s hypothesis is that its reappearance is triggered by would be Important Canon Events. 

Unfortunately for the System, extended down time — multiple years of extended down time — hasn’t helped to fix all the damage. The screen is still fractured, splintering out from centimetre wide puncture wounds. 

Again, not Shen Yuan’s fault! Not his fault at all! How was he supposed to know that the System was vulnerable to certain attacks! So what if the ‘four’ in the Four Fanged Sweet Sleeper stands for four dimensions? He didn’t think that a slightly extra dimensional snake could impact an intangible object — who would think that??

If Shen Yuan had thought that, he would’ve organised an encounter a lot sooner, he promises you that. If he’d known that permanently injuring the System was possible…

Like he said, it hadn’t been on purpose. System was tangible sometimes, whenever Shen Yuan needed to press ‘yes’ in response to something. Theoretically he could press yes or no, but no was never a real option. Pressing ‘no’ led to bad things and Shen Yuan, for some weird reason, likes not getting tortured! So! Yes to this quest, yes to that quest, yes to flushing any chance of friendship down the drain! Zero thumbs up and zero stars, that shitty system deserved everything it got. 

As usual, he’d been arguing with the System, this time while out on a mission. Yet another shitty quest — this one a side quest, which would take him multiple days, which would delay his return to his sect, which would mean Shizun was gonna tear him a new one when he returned. 

Then, from out of fucking nowhere, the sweet sleeper had appeared, already mid lunge directly at Shen Yuan’s face. In his spur of the moment panic, Shen Yuan had grabbed the closest thing and used it as a shield. The System had been the only thing at hand. Even as he’d attempted to grab at the translucent little screen, he’d known he was screwed. The reptile would sail straight through the non-existent shield and bite Shen Yuan in the face. 

Goodbye, second life. 

Hello, horrific and painful mauling which would leave him dying by inches over a matter of hours. To this day, there’s no antivenom for a sweet sleeper bite. And whoever named it ‘sweet’ really needs a kick in the pants, Airplane you hack. 

Except… it’d worked. 

Two terrifyingly large fangs had sunk not into Shen Yuan’s flesh, but into a supposedly tangible screen. Two more fangs had shot out upon contact with the serpents' prey, previously hidden somewhere in the gum region. The System’s interface had fractured, turning the same pink-blue-white as any pierced electronic. Sparks had cascaded from it as the venom had poured in; disturbingly, Shen Yuan had been able to see the poison running along previously invisible circuitry.

Shen Yuan should’ve run — maybe then the system would’ve stayed where it died, rather than continuing to haunt him every now and again, demanding his attention from the corner of his vision, sparking for attention. 

Instead, he’d stayed and studied the Sweet Sleeper; how could he have missed the opportunity! His sketches of its fangs, venom sacks and the composition of its fascinating mouth remain the most complete in all the Jianghu! He is, in fact, the preeminent scholar of Four Fanged Sweet Sleepers! Who cares if some of his knowledge comes from his previous life? Knowledge is knowledge!

The reason why he instantly became the preeminent scholar, despite being just another Qing Jing disciple, is that the sweet sleeper is one of those animals you need to kill first, poke with a stick later. And unfortunately, to kill it in such a way that you know for sure it’s dead — rather than biding its time to go for a second strike — is to bisect the head both horizontally and vertically. All four fangs need to be separated from each other for it to die. Which, of course, makes no fucking sense. What about the brain, huh? What about biology, huh?? Thanks for yet another thing which makes no fucking sense, Airplane. 

After so many years in this world, Shen Yuan’s resigned himself to the stupid world building. Kind of. Not really. He can pretend sometimes, though, which is honestly a big improvement from when he first transmigrated. 

Honestly, Shen Yuan’s developed a soft spot for the incredibly deadly reptiles. They’d solved his biggest problem, after all! No more B-points! No more restrictions! No more adherence to the plot! Plus, a really fun reputation as an absolutely unhinged scholar! Given how safe he was once the serpent had its fangs sunk into the System, it’s an entirely unearned reputation, but it’s still fun to fuck with people. Of course, in his regular research, Shen Yuan’s entirely sensible with how he does things.

With the System thankfully out of the way, Shen Yuan is free to swerve and any all canon events — or meddle in them. Shen Yuan’s current plan is to meddle in them. It’s an easy plan: keep an eye out, swoop in and pick up baby Binghe from the river. Then Shen Yuan will mosey on up to his sect — well, maybe he’ll sneak in, who can say — and leave the baby with someone else! Easy!

That just avoids the whole… everything, really! It is a solid, foolproof plan. With that few moving parts, what could possibly go wrong, you know? Shen Yuan doesn’t even need to keep too much of an eye out yet. Until the Qing generation ascend as Peak Lords, Shen Yuan can continue to fuck about to his heart’s content, doing research with Jiu-er. 

Unfortunately, they can’t do that until all of the Peak Lords have a successor. 

And, given Shen Yuan hasn’t heard anything about an ascension ceremony — even out in the sticks Shen Yuan would hear about such an event — Lin-shifu is still being a stubborn fuck about wanting Shen Yuan to step up. No matter how many times Shen Yuan’s told him ‘not a damn chance’, the old man keeps insisting. Says it’s got to be Shen Yuan, unless Shen Yuan can give him a ‘valid reason’ as to why he can’t pick up the mantle. 

Shen Yuan has a good reason, okay? It’s just… not a reason he can tell Lin-shifu, because it sounds really… 

Look, his last name is already Shen, okay! He is already in Shen Qingqiu’s body! He was just lucky enough that he transmigrated before the plot really kicked off; lucky enough his System got envenomated before Shen Yuan was forced to accept the head discipleship. 

Even with the System glitched to hell and useless, Shen Yuan refuses to tempt fate like that. 

Better for someone else to become the Qing generation’s Qing Jing Peak Lord. Much, much better. No matter what Shen Yuan’s said about his shidi and shimei, they’re not actually entirely useless. Most of them are actually pretty alright! Just not to Shen Yuan, given the whole, you know, OOC lock and System enforced bitchiness. 

Better to change everything rather than risk some sort of accidental canon relapse; Shen Yuan has no idea if it’s possible for the world to snap back to its original tracks if it gets close enough and he’s not willing to find out. Canon is dead, long live canon, or whatever.

Plus, if he was peak lord, he’d be stuck on the mountain! No more adventures! No more cryptozoology! He doesn’t want to teach a bunch of shitty kids for the rest of his life, okay! Shen Jiu, at least, mostly taught himself. Plus he was already halfway through his teen years when Shen Yuan found him, so it was possible to speak to him, adult to (mostly) adult. 

And that’s another thing — what’ll happen to his Jiu-er if Shen Yuan becomes peak lord? 

It’s much better for the two of them to stay together, far away from the rest of the world. Just the two of them, forever. 

Does that sound a little weird? 

Nah, it’s like an extended road trip but they have a kickass sword instead of a car. Shen Yuan is truly living the coolest life right now. 

Well, not literally. Literally he was on fire not too long ago and now he’s suffering from some serious burns, though thankfully the burn cream has taken most of the heat and the pain away. 

“You’re going to need more of this applied by the end of the week.” Shen Jiu reminds him, as though it wasn’t Shen Yuan who taught him all of this in the first place. He’s not surprised, though. His Jiu-er loves to be assertive. His Jiu-er’s ears are still a little pink, too, and he can’t quite meet Shen Yuan’s eyes. 

This is a goldmine of teasing material, but Shen Yuan will hold it in reserve until after his leg’s healed. It’s not exactly out of the realm of possibility for Shen Jiu to slap Shen Yuan’s wounds if he thinks Shen Yuan deserves it. 

Calloused hands push Shen Yuan’s hanfu further away from the burn and cream, settling it above the crease of Shen Yuan’s thigh. The sensation of hard won callouses against soft skin makes Shen Yuan shiver, a little bit. Jiu-er, good boy that he is, takes his time making sure the fabric isn’t going to fall out of place. Tucking it up under itself, under the layers below; good thing Shen Yuan’s a modern man, or else he’d be severely embarrassed by this. But it’s fine! Shen Yuan’s injured and this is just Shen Jiu; nothing to feel awkward about, ahaha. 

After a few long, drawn out moments, Shen Jiu looks up and meets Shen Yuan’s eyes. Thanks to all the fire from before, Shen Yuan’s mouth and throat are excruciatingly dry. It’s kind of hard to swallow. His heart’s beating real fast now again as well, though the danger has long since passed. Jiu-er’s ears are still faintly pink, though he’s regained his usual smirk. For a second, before Shen Jiu reaches for the bandages, Shen Yuan completely loses track of the conversation. 

Something about marriage?

Ah, no, no, the burn cream. He’ll need more soon and they’ve run out. Terrible timing. 

“We’ll have to buy some then.” It takes about a fortnight to make this particular burn salve — a month, for maximum efficacy. They do have some weaker ones, but Shen Yuan’s burn might, well… maybe Shen Jiu is justified in his anger, a little bit. Shen Yuan’s skin really was melting off him, haha! Literally! Not the worst injury he’s ever gotten, but certainly the worst one for a while. Shen Jiu’s always extra surly, when Shen Yuan’s done something stupid. 

“We can’t.”

“Oh my — fine. You’ll go buy some then, and I’ll sit here and won’t move. Happy?” He rolls his eyes at Shen Jiu. Shen Jiu slaps the fresh bandage, thankfully right near the edge rather than directly atop the wound. Shen Yuan yelps, kept from falling over only by Shen Jiu’s hand coming up to support his back. Jiu-er is entirely unrepentant — sometimes, Shen Yuan thinks the younger man likes causing him pain! — and he pushes himself up on his knees until he’s face to face with Shen Yuan. Their foreheads are almost pressed together, for a brief second which seems to stretch for far too long.

“Literally, we can’t. Do you know how expensive any cultivation based burn cream is? Let alone one as effective as this?”

“It’s probably about…” Shen Yuan tries to calculate what it could be, throws out a ballpark figure which does nothing but make Shen Jiu huff a short laugh. From this close, the way Shen Jiu’s face crinkles with amusement is devastating. 

“Judging from your expression —” Amused but in a very, very derogatory fashion, “I’m gonna say it costs more. Much more.”

“Shocking. There is a brain in there somewhere, after all.” Shen Jiu ties off the bandage and, with more care than he’d used while doctoring Shen Yuan, pulls what's left of Shen Yuan’s layers back down over his leg. Because of the massive shock Shen Yuan’s body’s currently going through — actual shock kept away by his cultivation, thankfully — he’s currently hypersensitive. Otherwise, why else would every fleeting touch of Shen Jiu’s fingers against Shen Yuan’s leg leave him tingling? 

Once all of Shen Yuan’s layers have been settled correctly, it’s obvious that the entire thing was a useless endeavour. There’s a gigantic burn hole in it. Most of that fabric, Shen Jiu had had to carefully pry away from Shen Yuan’s burnt flesh. Even with his clothes pushed down, Shen Yuan’s still exposed, near entirely from hip to his toes, both shoes lost somewhere in the ruckus. Shen Jiu must hate it whenever Shen Yuan loses his shoes; his eyes always linger, entirely too intent. Probably calculating the time and expense of buying a new pair, again.  

Good thing Shen Jiu’s here to run their finances because Shen Yuan… despite being a good amount of time into his second life, at heart he’s still a little fuerdai. Paying for something without looking at or caring about the cost is too ingrained! He can’t help it! And, shit though the System was, Shen Yuan was able to game it enough to have a decent amount of money so he could… saying that he did it to continue his habit of being financially irresponsible sounds terrible, even if it is the technical truth. 

But without access to the System, and with two people to clothe and feed… 

Shen Jiu swooped in at the perfect time to save them both from destitution, to be honest. 

“If we can’t buy it, that leaves us with two very unfortunate choices. First, we use an inferior burn cream and maybe my leg keeps burning off.” Shen Yuan tries to frame it as a joke but Shen Jiu’s severe look tells him that he doesn’t see the humour in it. 

“Hot Honey Badgers have been known to immolate people full weeks after the initial encounter, yes. It’s almost like you should stay a reasonable distance away.”

“OR,” Shen Yuan says loudly, ignoring the other man, “we can head back to Cang Qiong.”

A pause.

Is it just Shen Yuan, or is there a growing feeling of dread permeating their campsite?

Shen Yuan really, really doesn’t want to go back. Not just because of the issue with Lin-shifu; he’s slipped away before, he can slip away again, after all. Truthfully, it’s mainly…

What if, once Shen Jiu sees how nice Cang Qiong is — how nice it is to have a bed and not camp all the damn time — he’ll want to stay. Even when Shen Yuan heads back out, Shen Jiu could choose to stay. Whenever he thinks about it, Shen Yuan’s entire gut turns to acid. It’s worse than the pain in his leg, to be honest. 

“Does anyone really need two —”

“We’re going to the sect.”

“But —”

“Jiu-er,” Shen Yuan whines, only to be met with Shen Jiu’s furious glare. Honestly furious, rather than the commonplace anger he usually simmers in when Shen Yuan acts the fool. 

“No. I don’t care that you’ll have to own up to your biggest shame in front of your vaunted shizun, we’re going.”

Shen Yuan blinks a couple of times.

“My… shame?” He tries to think if he’s done anything particularly stupid that he’s been trying to hide from the old man. It’s been long enough that even if he had been hiding anything, he’s long since forgotten it. The only thing Shen Yuan can think of is… well… not that he’s been thinking! He’s never had a thought in his life, and especially not about Shen Jiu. That whole thing, that time when they — that was a medical emergency! Not, ah. Not anything. They were just two people who, who —

It was a medical emergency. 

And after, after that, it’s only natural that they continue to sleep in the same bed, right? For moral support. It’s only been two months since it happened! He can’t let Shen Jiu think that they did anything wrong, after all; Jiu-er’s far too sensitive about rejection! If Shen Yuan didn’t muster up the courage to cuddle with him, it’s hurt his sensitive soul!

It’s all platonic! It was always all platonic, even — even that. Of course it was. Because, you know. Medical emergencies are platonic by nature. It’s not, it’s not — 

This is all Airplane’s fault, that hack author. Stupid papapa flowers; Shen Yuan should burn all of them and fuck the ecosystem. 

“This wretched apprentice of yours. You’ve been putting off returning because of me. You said, once, that you used to go back every other year or so. When’s the last time you went back to your sect, Shen Yuan?”

“Uhhh…” They both know the answer is ‘since before he picked up Shen Jiu.’ But that hasn’t been too long, right? It’s only been… oh, oh no, Shizun is legitimately going to kill him. 

Then, after solemnly accepting his upcoming death, the rest of what Shen Jiu said registers and Shen Yuan almost opens his thigh back up in his haste to reach for Shen Jiu, pulling the man so close he’s almost in Shen Yuan’s lap. 

“You think I’m ashamed of you? What? Why? Because I don’t go back to the mountain? No, that’s stupid. Really, why?”

Shen Jiu’s jaw sets into something entirely mulish. Ah, Shen Yuan won’t be getting anything further out of him, not like this. Time to try coaxing his prickly little cactus! His crispy lotus! Shen Yuan’s success rate with this is rather hit or miss but he thinks he’s been more hit than miss, these last couple of years. 

“Jiu-er, I haven’t gone back to the mountain because last time I was there, my shizun tried to trick me into becoming the next Peak Lord. He managed to walk me through the full first stanza of the confirmation ceremony before I wised up and ran off!” 

A narrowing of the eyes, which could really go either way. 

“I promise — I swear! — it’s just me avoiding any responsibilities, not any shame of you. In fact, once we get back, I’ll parade you all over the stupid sect. You’ll be begging to run off with me again by the end of it. Do you know how many boring tea ceremonies we’re going to have to sit through? How much small talk? I’m not letting you sneak off, either! If I have to listen to Qingyuan-shixiong desperately try to hold a conversation with me, you have to suffer too!”

“Qingyuan?” For some reason, Shen Jiu’s voice sounds legitimately dangerous, whereas before it was kind of? Not? 

Is… Shen Yuan getting played? He can’t see any reason for it, unless his Jiu-er’s trying to trick him into going back to the sect, but that’s ridiculous. He knows Shen Yuan would take him, if he asked to go. Then again, Jiu-er doesn’t really like to ask for things, does he? Well, Shen Yuan can puzzle that out later, cause right now Shen Jiu’s no longer playing. His eyes are too narrow and the hint of teeth behind his lips is entirely predatory. 

It’s a good look on him. 

“He’s in line to be the next sect leader. We have, uh, history? Kind of? He’s nice, just…” How to explain the whole ‘I’m wearing the body of his childhood friend that he thinks he failed to protect’ thing? Kind of impossible, honestly. Better to just sliiiiide right past it, especially given the way Shen Jiu’s eyes have turned. He’s definitely thinking dangerous thoughts! Abort! It’d be a disaster if Shen Jiu tried to sink one of his little knives into Yue Qingyuan. Well, it’d probably be fine so long as Shen Yuan hung off Yue Qingyuan’s arm and acts cute about it, but Shen Yuan has standards, you know!

(Sometimes.)

One single ‘Qi-ge’ and Yue Qingyuan would probably let Jiu-er turn him into a pincushion. 

As always, Shen Yuan pushes that and everything about all of that into the most distant corner of his mind and ignores it. 

“Oh, I think you’d like Liu-shidi, though. He’s a bit oblivious, but he likes to fight. And he’s always happy to tell me about any beasts he’s fought, though his observations are a bit lacking. He really tries though!”

Their only civil conversations have been about megafauna, and only after the System kicked it. They’re definitely not friends in any sense of the word but at least they can be civil? It’s probably mainly for Yue Qingyuan’s sake, but at least they’re not clawing at each other like feral cats everytime they catch sight of each other anymore. That’d been truly exhausting. Who has the energy to fight all the time, huh? Stupid Bai Zhan brutes.  

“Can you ride your sword like that, or will we need to hire a carriage?” 

The sudden subject change instantly sets Shen Yuan on red alert. It means that Shen Jiu’s bag of cats brain is too busy plotting to bother steering the conversation in any sort of subtle manner. Whenever Shen Jiu drops a subject that has clearly interested him, it always comes back to bite Shen Yuan on the ass. 

Literally, occasionally. 

They have several days of travel for Shen Yuan to try and unravel it, though, and it’s always better to be subtle about it. If Shen Yuan latches on like a dog with a bone, Shen Jiu will never let anything slip. He’s more than stubborn enough to rival Shen Yuan, sometimes; Jiu-er’s also go the energy reserves of the young to be a little shit about things long after Shen Yuan’s ready for a nap about it. 

“Help me stand up and we’ll see.” Shen Yuan holds out his hands and Shen Jiu slowly helps him to rise. Pain, unsurprisingly, radiates out from his thigh. The burn cream is doing its job well enough, he supposes. He’s not in crippling pain and his thigh’s not completely numb, which would also be bad; nerve damage is a bitch and a half to fix, even with cultivation. Still, it’s not the worst pain he’s ever experienced. He could take flying on it for several hours a day so long as they take frequent rest breaks. Even then, it’ll be far quicker than any carriage they can muster — and it won’t cost them anything. 

“You’ll have to steer but we can do it.” 

As though Shen Jiu doesn’t like to drive most of the time anyway; Shen Yuan has a sneaking suspicion that Shen Jiu would be one of those guys who never lets anyone else drive their car and spends far too much money on it. Shen Yuan never even bothered to get his driver's licence. Luckily a sword licence is something like a pen licence; entirely useless and completely at the discretion of your teacher. 

“I usually do,” Shen Jiu reminds him, unreasonably smug about it. What does he have to be smug about, huh? Shen Jiu doesn’t like to have people too close to his back, so Shen Yuan was conscientious about it and let the kid stand closer to the hilt. It’s easier to control a sword from the hilt — in Shen Yuan’s opinion, at least, though apparently it’s a ‘your mileage may vary’ sort of situation. Since that’s where Shen Jiu always stands, it just makes sense. It’s definitely got nothing to do with Shen Yuan’s, uh, very normal and regular flying. 

It’s hard to navigate in the sky, okay! There’s no GPS here! He’s supposed to navigate by what, the stars? The sun? They all move! How is he supposed to remember all the formulas involved?

It’s definitely got a lot to do with Shen Jiu’s control freak tendencies. 

What’s that? Shen Yuan’s pushing all the responsibility on someone else again? Truly shocking. 

Shen Yuan rolls his eyes at himself and goes to help break down their camp, only to be manhandled back onto the log he’d just been sitting on. 

“Sit still, you menace.”

“Excuse me? I’m the menace?” Shen Yuan splutters, while Shen Jiu goes to roll up their sleeping mat. Just… just the one mat, which is a perfectly fine and normal thing for two platonic bros to do after an intense and intimate — no, uh. After an intense and platonic medical procedure. It’s also completely normal to spoon. Super normal to be the little spoon, too. Who doesn’t like feeling warm and secure, huh? It’s, like, biology or something. 

If Shen Yuan sometimes feels something against him — right against him, like, really, really tightly against him — in the mornings? That’s also chill and fine and just biology. Mornings, you know! Ha ha ha…

He’d rather die than bring it up. And, since Shen Yuan just pretends to be asleep until Shen Jiu wakes up and gets it all out of his system, it’s all fine! So long as they never, ever have to talk about it, it’s all fine. Problem solved. 

There’s not much more to their camp than the bedroll and the cooking equipment left over from their breakfast. Shen Yuan was supposed to have packed it all away before he started reading, but then he’d gone off on a perhaps slightly ill-advised observation trip instead of doing either. So Shen Jiu packs it all up and then there’s nothing left of their presence but cold ashes, bloodied fabric scraps (some with bits of Shen Yuan’s flesh still clinging to them; Shen Yuan is firmly Not Looking), and the log Shen Yuan’s still seated on. They rolled it into place two nights ago when they’d first arrived. It’d been nice to lean against, when they cuddled by the fire at night.

Bro cuddled by the fire. 

As bros are wont to do, entirely platonically.

Thankfully distracting Shen Yuan from his extremely foolish thoughts, Shen Jiu draws Xiu Ya. With a small (considerable) amount of help, Shen Yuan manages to mount the blade without falling or hurting himself. Shen Jiu settles into place behind him, one strong arm wrapped around Shen Yuan’s waist to keep him in place. Shen Yuan, all his weight on a single leg, gladly leans back to rest against him; he’s gonna be truly fucking sore by the time they get to Cang Qiong. 

Behind him, probably getting a faceful of Shen Yuan’s hair, Shen Jiu takes a breath. He doesn’t say anything, though, just keeps breathing oddly loudly. Like he’s sniffing something? Oh god, Shen Yuan probably smells terrible. Like smoke and sweat and burnt flesh and Shen Jiu’s just got to put up with that until they find some place not too out of their way with an inn. Damn, talk about the short straw. Shen Yuan must’ve made a noise of some sort — or maybe he’s thinking out loud again — cause Shen Jiu’s fingers rub comforting little circles into Shen Yuan’s side. 

They rise steadily, startling a couple of birds as they break through the canopy, and then they’re on their way to Cang Qiong. The usual dread at the prospect is muted by the pain in his thigh, and the mystery of what Shen Jiu wants with Cang Qiong. New, different dread springs up as Shen Yuan realises he won’t get to go back to his dorm — if he still has a bed after so many years; surely some enterprising shidi’s realised that room gets the best sun for an afternoon nap and found a way to usurp the room from him. No mostly comfortable bed for Shen Yuan, oh no. 

He’s gonna get drop kicked to Qian Cao so hard that they’ll have to treat him for broken bones as well. 

Shit. 

“If they force me onto bed rest, you have to protect me from Lin-shifu. I’ll be a sitting duck! I can’t become Peak Lord, Jiu-er, I just can’t. I’ve seen the paperwork! We’d have to run away in the middle of the night just to avoid it all.”

“‘We,’ is it?”

“Of course. Don’t even think about leaving me behind as a decoy while you escape.”

Hopefully, the way he’s phrasing it, his tone of voice, all come across as comical. He doesn’t want Shen Jiu to know just how vulnerable it makes Shen Yuan feel, to say something like ‘don’t leave me,’ even when he’s just joking like this. He… he’s not sure what he’d do, if Shen Jiu left him. If he decided he’d had enough of Shen Yuan’s bullshit. After so many years… 

Something odd clicks over in Shen Yuan’s chest, settles in with an ache he can’t quite ignore. What it is, he’s got no idea, but it brings a grim certainty with it. 

Shen Yuan might possibly do something very, very foolish, if Shen Jiu wants to walk away from him. 

Luckily, Shen Jiu doesn’t leave him hanging. Doesn’t even laugh off Shen Yuan’s words, even though he should. Shen Yuan’s just being stupid, just being desperate, just realising that he hasn’t felt lonely once in the last few years because Shen Jiu is almost always standing by his side. 

“Never,” Shen Jiu replies, sounding entirely certain and not at all like he’s just playing along. He’s always good at seeing through Shen Yuan’s bluster, cutting right through to the heart of him. 

Never sounded like some sort of vow and what can Shen Yuan do but believe him. Why wouldn’t he? He’s never had cause to doubt his Jiu-er before, so… he won’t start now. Not now, when their shared sword pulses happily under their feet and Shen Jiu’s arms curl around Shen Yuan with so much quiet affection. 

They settle into a comfortable silence — for a few minutes, at least. 

“Wait, does this mean we could sell our own burn cream? Even if we severely undercut the market, we’d still turn a decent profit, right? We could buy you more nice things, if we did.”

He feels Shen Jiu laugh more than he hears it, the quiet sound stolen by the wind as it rushes by them. 

“You just want more of an allowance to buy trash novels.” Shen Jiu scoffs. He’s… not entirely wrong. Not entirely right, either, though. Shen Yuan loves buying his Jiu-er anything and everything his sharp eyes take an interest in. 

“Hey, who's in charge here? You’re my assistant, why am I the one getting an ‘allowance.’”

“Hm, I wonder,” Shen Jiu says, voice low and dark and reminiscent of a certain night with a certain medical procedure — reminiscent of almost every morning for the past two months, sun not quite risen, Shen Yuan faking sleep as his Jiu-er ruts and moans and whispers filthy things into the sensitive skin of Shen Yuan’s neck. 

“Be-because only one of us has any money sense and it’s certainly not me?” Shen Yuan quotes something Shen Jiu’s said time and time again, suddenly desperate to change the subject. He doesn’t feel weird about hearing that tone of voice, of course not. Why would a bro feel weird about… any of that. 

Platonic, platonic. 

Jiu-er laughs again, his arms tightening around Shen Yuan’s waist, fingers digging in. A smile is pressed against the back of Shen Yuan’s head; it could almost be a kiss. It’s not, of course, Shen Jiu wouldn’t kiss him, but… it does technically fit the definition of a kiss. 

When Shen Yuan’s throat goes dry again, it’s only because of the wind.