Chapter Text
Luo Binghe wakes up on the morning of his nineteenth birthday cold, hungry, and smiling.
Technically, he isn’t sure if it’s really his birthday. Being an orphan found floating down a river will do that to a guy. But Shen Yuan wanted to give him a gift last year, so Shang Qinghua picked a date.
Getting dressed is unpleasant; winter is always the worst time of year to live in a woodshed. It’s easier than it was when he was younger, though. His cultivation is high enough that he no longer has to fear losing fingers to frostbite, and he can actually look forward to being warm at some point today.
Shen Qingqiu made sure that Ning Yingying was off-peak this week, so there won’t be any celebrating on Qing Jing. But the last time he tried to ban Shen Yuan from the premises, An Ding “misplaced” all of his paperwork for an entire month. Shang Qinghua promised to punish the disciple responsible, but Luo Binghe is pretty sure he was lying through his teeth.
Shen Yuan never gets punished for anything. All Shang Qinghua ever does is threaten to reduce his stipend (aka “Xiao-Yuan’s Naughty Book Fund”) and then never actually do it. Luo Binghe has never met anyone as harmlessly antagonistic as the An Ding peak lord is toward his first disciple, but he’s given up questioning it.
Luo Binghe doesn’t bother trying to scrape something together for breakfast. Shen Yuan’s inevitable fussing over his empty stomach is a pleasure far beyond any kitchen scraps. He feels guilty enjoying his friend’s worry, but it just feels so good to have Shen Yuan’s attention like that.
He breezes through his chores, breaking the rule against using his spiritual energy to complete them. If Ming Fan figures it out and reports it to Shen Qingqiu, then so be it. Disobedience comes easier these days.
˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗
The other disciples are still having breakfast as Luo Binghe sets out across the rainbow bridge. Shen Yuan would have come to get him eventually, but he always waits until later in the morning to visit. This way, he might be able to get a whole extra shichen with Shen Yuan.
An Ding already resembles a kicked anthill when he arrives. Most of Qing Jing’s disciples follow the same schedule, with a few variations for class times. An Ding, on the other hand, operates in barely-controlled chaos, disciples carrying messages and parcels in seemingly random directions. The youngest ones take one look at his Qing Jing robes and dart out of his way, wary of being given work for another peak on top of their existing tasks.
Otherwise, he’s mostly ignored. There’s no malice in it; this is not a peak for leisurely chats with acquaintances.
No living soul can keep up with Shen Yuan’s schedule this early in the morning, so rather than try to figure out which of his juniors he’s doting on today, Luo Binghe heads to Shang Qinghua’s house.
He knocks before letting himself inside. There’s a sharp, clean scent in the air, like encroaching snow. It absolutely did not smell like that outside.
Luo Binghe wrinkles his nose and tries not to think too hard about it. Mobei-Jun’s passions were the weak spot that let Shen Yuan save Luo Binghe’s life, but that doesn’t mean he wants to smell an ice demon’s desperate lust every time the man stops by to chat.
Well, at least the door’s unlocked. That means he’s already left.
“Shishu! Please excuse the interruption!”
There’s a loud yelp from Shang Qinghua’s bedroom, followed by a dull thud. The peak lord emerges a moment later, already fully dressed. He doesn’t smell like sex, just tea and fear-sweat. Shen Yuan’s matchmaking is wasted on this man.
“Luo Binghe! You’re– uh, you’re early!”
“This one was hoping to have breakfast with Shen Yuan.”
Shang Qinghua laughs and flashes him a nervous grin. “Oh, I, ah, think you’ll probably be doing that a lot, soon.”
Luo Binghe tilts his head. “What does Shishu mean by that?”
“No, no, that would ruin the surprise. Shen Yuan is going to lose his mind… Oh, never say your Shishu never does anything for you!”
Luo Binghe frowns. Normally when Shang Qinghua is talking nonsense, it’s that odd hometown dialect he and Shen Yuan toss back and forth. This feels more like he’s being deliberately obtuse.
“Does it have something to do with Mobei-Jun’s visit?”
Shang Qinghua goes stiff for a second. “Man, I always forget you can smell him… He is technically part of your surprise, but that’s phase two!”
Luo Binghe didn't even know birthdays came in phases. But, then, this is only his second birthday at all. Maybe it’s more normal than he realizes.
˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗
Shen Yuan arrives with breakfast for himself and Shang Qinghua a quarter shichen later. Luo Binghe is looking over reports with Shang Qinghua, who has been teaching Luo Binghe more complicated mathematics with every visit.
“Oh! Binghe!” Shen Yuan says, breaking into a pleased smile. “You’re early!”
Shang Qinghua reaches out to take the tray of food, giving Shen Yuan his hands back. Immediately, he takes advantage of his newfound freedom to give Binghe’s arm an affectionate pat.
“This one was hoping Shen-shidi would be available for breakfast.”
Shen Yuan laughs. “You were excited to see what I got you for your birthday, is that it?”
“Shen-shidi’s company is all that this Binghe could ever wish for.”
Shen Yuan’s cheeks go the faintest bit pink, which makes Luo Binghe feel lightheaded with longing.
“Flatterer. Oh, I can go get more food–”
“No need, I already ate. He can have mine,” Shang Qinghua says distractedly, unlocking one of the drawers in his desk.
Shen Yuan’s eyes narrow. “You got up that early? Was Mobei-Jun here again?”
“Haha! Well, yes. For a bit. He brought snacks.”
Shen Yuan exchanges an exasperated look with Luo Binghe. Shang Qinghua still doesn’t believe he’s being courted. For some reason, he thinks Mobei-Jun is going to kill him.
“He brought you snacks,” Shen Yuan says, while his tone of voice says ‘you are an idiot’.
“Not the time for jokes, Xiao-Yuan!”
“Don’t call me that!”
Shang Qinghua emerges from his secret drawer with a bundle of papers held tight to his chest. “Mobei-Jun isn’t important right now! I told you both that I was working on how to get Luo Binghe off Qing Jing peak, didn’t I? Well! Those efforts have finally born fruit! Operation: ‘get Luo Binghe residence on An Ding’ is a go!”
Luo Binghe’s heart lurches, a perilous hope kicking his pulse into overdrive.
“You got Shen Qingqiu to agree to a transfer? I thought he said he’d rather drown in hot tar than give you anything that belongs to him,” Shen Yuan asks.
“Well, yes, he did say that. Very evocative image, really. But! I found the perfect mix of loopholes to force the issue! There is a way for a disciple to change peaks, even if their peak lord doesn’t approve!”
“The sect leader is never going to agree to that.”
“No, not Yue Qingyuan! He’d rather drown in hot tar than deny Shen Qingqiu anything.”
“Don’t use that scum’s comparisons!”
“I’m the one who came up with it in the first place, he got those words from me!”
“I’ve read your writing, it doesn’t work like that, you hack!”
Luo Binghe knows when they get going like this, they could very well carry on until nightfall. “Ah, the plan?”
Shang Qinghua perks up. “Right! The plan! You see, while peak lords often stand in as parents for orphaned disciples, Shen Qingqiu would rather drown in–”
“Enough with the tar!” Shen Yuan snaps.
“Well, anyways, Shen Qingqiu isn’t going to want to do lengthy negotiations to keep Luo Binghe in the woodshed.”
Luo Binghe still isn’t sure how Shang Qinghua figured out about the woodshed. It’s usually embarrassing, the way he brings it up so casually, but he’s too hypnotized by the bright, beautiful future where he gets to live on An Ding to think about it.
“What negotiations are you even talking about?” Shen Yuan asks.
Shang Qinghua grins broadly. “Marriage negotiations, of course. When two members of the sect get married, whoever has the more important job gets to stay on their peak. If Shen Qingqiu tries to stop the marriage, it would be like announcing publicly that he thinks Luo Binghe is more valuable than all of the betrothal gifts on offer.”
There is a moment of stunned silence.
“ARE YOU TRYING TO MARRY LUO BINGHE?”
“Not ME, you idiot, you! A head disciple is more important than a regular one!”
Shang Qinghua slaps the bundle of papers down on the table.
It’s the first draft of a marriage contract between Shen Yuan and Luo Binghe.
Luo Binghe makes a noise of excitement so high-pitched that only dogs can hear it.