Chapter Text
An Ding Peak was never silent, but there was a certain stillness to it in the early hours of the morning, like a beast being lulled to sleep. It was in that restful quiet that one might find it’s Peak Lord, as busy as the Peak he led, asleep for once. In the flickering light of his office, Shang Qinghua slept, one plump cheek pillowed by a mound of overdue paperwork. The ink of those pages slowly stained his face, as a rapidly growing pool of drool wet the once dry text.
The Peak Lord shot upright, suddenly awake, eyes wide with realization.
“Oh my god, it’s a porn novel.”
This, of course, would not be news to any reader of the late Airplane’s magnum opus Proud Immortal Demon Way, most such readers having clicked on the novel with two hands, and being down to just one within a chapter or two. It was, however, something that Airplane did not often think of his own writing despite the multitude of bouncing breasts and leaking swords.
Proud Immortal Demon Way had been, originally, a tragedy. Luo Binghe, his beloved protagonist, despite his massive harem by the end of the story, was always meant to end up alone in spirit if nothing else. At every turn he was beaten down and betrayed by those who should have helped him, the same as his Shizun, the same as his author. But bills and an empty stomach had meant catering to the fans who wanted more girls, more action, more more more until his story was a decrepit shadow of what he’d planned.
And that meant that his novel, despite the horrific ending of most of the cast… was a porn novel.
And porn novels ran on porn logic.
“I can save us all.” whispered Shang Qinghua, eyes wild.
He scrabbled for fresh paper, numb to the paperwork flying every which way as he frantically wrote. The one thing stronger than the protagonist in a porn novel, was the need to satisfy the audience with sex scenes; he could lose any fight, be caught in any trap, allow anything if it meant titillating readers. All this time he’d been weakly fighting against the inevitability of the plot, and the coming cataclysm that was Luo Binghe. Nothing he did ever changed anything!
But he’d been approaching this all the wrong way! This wasn’t the tragic story from his original draft, this was Proud Immortal Demon Way! The whole reason Luo Binghe had destroyed the sect in the original had been because Shen Qingqiu was a cheap villain to create more action, one that had eventually been sidelined to a grotesque ending in the water prison in order to focus more on the ever expanding harem. But none of that would happen if Luo Binghe was too busy fucking his teacher!
He sobbed in sheer relief as he frantically penned the most egregious of wife plots, the cheapest fuck-or-die scenarious, anything that might possibly avert the giant fucking sword otherwise headed for Cang Qiong’s- and more importantly his- head.
The Plan was simple.
Or at least, it should be simple except for the part where he needed to trick his paranoid and possibly homicidal shixiong into the kind of flowers that a first-year disciple should’ve been able to avoid. And not get caught doing it. Also that.
Frankly, his odds were not looking good.
In the hundreds of chapters of Proud Immortal Demon Way, aphrodisiacs and fuck-or-die plants were a dime a dozen. Slightly less common, however, had been the plant he was now in the process of harvesting.
Glistening Moondew Orchids, or as he’d liked to call them, ‘instant girl’ plants, had been a throwaway plot device. Even for his regular readers, it got repetitive for Luo Binghe to kill a rival and win a new wife every chapter. So every once in a while he would cook up something new to keep things fresh.
In this particular case it had involved a rival attempting to dose his protagonist with the gender-changing orchids, only for it to backfire on himself. Luo Binghe had then spent the next several chapters hunting down that rival after the failed poisoning, unaware of their new appearance, while the rival in question had been frantically trying to play things cool. When Luo Binghe finally discovered the plot, the protagonist had taken the humiliated rival as a new wife after a round of life-changing papapa, and they were promptly lost to the depths of the harem by the next chapter.
There were really only two types of characters in his story; rivals to be fought, and wives to be wooed. His scum villain Shen Qingqiu was naturally the original and most hated rival that Luo Binghe had. So hated that everyone and everything associated with Shen Qingqiu had been destroyed. His body, his disciples, his sect- all had been laid to waste under Xin Mo’s blade. The goal then was to redirect Luo Binghe’s deadly attentions somewhere else. To make Shen Qingqiu not a rival, but a wife!
- - -
“Shen-shixiong! Wait up!”
Shen Qingqiu turned sharply, staring down the frazzled An Ding peak lord running his way. The man was a disgraceful sight, hair a mess from constantly running his hands through it during the meeting, arms full of a mess of paperwork like a junior disciple. Frankly, Shang Qinghua resembled a drowned rat more than a peak lord.
The rat finally caught up, panting for a moment as he caught his breath.
“Thanking shixiong for waiting.” He bowed briefly, sorting through his papers to present him with a short missive. “This one had a request for shixiong he was hoping to discuss, perhaps over tea?”
Was he inviting himself over? Bold. Usually he had more self-preservation than that.
“A request?” he said silkily, ignoring the missive. “and yet shidi had nothing to say to this one during the meeting. For what reason could shidi need such an excuse to meet with this one in private?”
However bad his reputation was, if Shang Qinghua thought he could get away with blackmailing him, he had another thing coming.
Shang Qinghua’s eyes went wide, laughing nervously as he stuttered out a response.
“Ah– no thats– well yes, I wanted to meet privately but not for the reasons you think shixiong! It’s just-” he froze, clearly thinking fast, “Embarrassing! For me! It’s embarrassing for me, and I- I just wanted to... uh.”
He trailed off uselessly, looking about ready to run away in fear. Unfortunately for him, he’d said just enough to make Shen Qingqiu curious. He plucked the missive from Shang Qinghua’s frozen hands, reading through the short mission request. The man himself was still frozen when he looked up, one hand dangling in the air while he stared out at nothing. Fine then. He’d take the bait.
Shang Qinghua jumped as a fan cracked open between them.
“This shixiong will of course assist shidi.”
He unsheathed a smile, and watched Shang Qinghua gulp.
“Praying Qing Jing’s hospitality is satisfactory.”
- - -
The inside of the bamboo house was exactly as he’d imagined it. Pale walls covered in dappled sunlight, a careful arrangement of art and books guiding the viewers eye across the room like a brushstroke. He’d never actually gotten the chance to visit until now, given how busy he normally was with his own work. Not to mention, Shen Qingqiu wasn’t in the habit of receiving visitors there if he could help it. The sect leader was the one notable exception, and he had the advantage of being the only person in the sect to outrank Shen Qingqiu. And even he got turned out more often than not!
Shen Qingqiu flicked a hand towards one of the cushions as he swept by.
“Sit.”
Shang Qinghua would like to state, for the record, that he was not a dog. But no one could prove how fast he may or may not have sat at Shen Qingqiu’s barked command. Just saying.
Green robes whispered by as Shen Qingqiu returned with a tea service, placing it on the table with nary a sound. He sat down, drawing back one sleeve so he could begin brewing.
Shang Qinghua lunged forward, grabbing the teapot before Shen Qingqiu could, sliding the set towards him with a noisy clatter. He winced at the sudden sound, doing his best to ignore how the peak lord was glaring at him.
“Apologies.” he said, hoping to smooth things over. “I uh– I brought my own tea? As a gift!”
Shen Qingqiu withdrew his hand slowly, flicking his sleeves out to settle at his sides like some kind of immortal crane spirit. Or perhaps a very elegant chicken. Whatever the case, he didn’t seem too mad? Yet?
Shang Qinghua busied himself preparing the tea, careful not to oversteep it. The process lacked the effortless grace of an experienced master, but the final product smelled perfect. The sweet scent of melon wafted up as he poured them each a cup, becoming more floral as it lingered. He was honestly pretty pleased with how it came out, despite the awkward silence.
He took a sip of his own cup, and nearly choked as he immediately burnt his tongue on the still hot tea. Somehow he was able to keep a straight face and set the porcelain down without spewing tea everywhere. Small mercies.
Shen Qingqiu raised his cup behind an embroidered sleeve, taking in the scent for a moment. He drank a moment after Shang Qinghua did, watching him carefully the whole time. He seemed? Pleased?
Not murderous yet, so things were actually going pretty well!
“Acceptable”
He blinked, surprised at the praise. “Ah, thanking shixiong.”
Shen Qingqiu’s mouth curved just so behind his cup, before it was hidden behind his sleeve again as he sipped at his tea. Was that a smile? Someone pinch him, he must be dreaming!
“Shang-shidi should elaborate on his,” he paused, drawing out the next word, “embarrassing request. Surely An Ding can have no problem sourcing whatever it is he might be in need of?”
Shang Qinghua coughed, face going scarlet as he remember what exactly he was planning to ask Shen Qingqiu for.
The thing was, that his scum villain son was really really good at sniffing out bullshit, but not as great at figuring what the bullshit actually was. It’s why he was so incensed by Yue Qingyuan’s gifts; he could tell there was an ulterior motive there, but not that it was guilt rather than shame fueling the man’s actions.
He cleared his throat and said, “See the thing is…”
The thing was, apparently, a plant called Rising Swordgrass. It had been missing from the shipment it should have arrived in, shipped discreetly under the much more common melon seeds that Shang Qinghua ordered a regular supply of to the Leisure House. Shang Qinghua described it as a medicinal supplement he took for a personal issue too embarrassing to consult Qian Cao for.
Not particularly surprising when one was aware what Rising Swordgrass was used to treat. It seemed Shang Qinghua was incapable of using his little sword, as well as his regular one.
Shen Qingqiu set his teacup down with a click, cutting off the quiet muttering Shang Qinghua had trailed into after his explanation was finished.
“This master will assist shidi in his time of need,” Shang Qinghua’s face lit up with relief before he continued, “assuming, of course, that shidi can provide sufficient incentive.”
Shang Qinghua’s smile didn’t dim in the slightest. “Of course, of course! Whatever shixiong needs!” He leaned forward to refill Shen Qingqiu’s cup, “Did shixiong have something in mind? This one could find some budget for a new order of instruments, or perhaps approve an extension to the teaching halls?”
“Cut Bai Zhan’s budget for the next month.”
Shang Qinghua’s head jerked up, the teapot clattering as he fumbled it. Tea sloshed onto the table where his sleeve had hit a cup. “Shixiong– shixiong please…”
Shen Qingqiu moved his sleeve away from the spill with distaste. “Those brats damaged part of the archives here last week, and Liu Qingge refuses to discipline them. If he won’t then I will.”
“But it’s not you he’ll be mad at, its me!” wailed Shang Qinghua. “Have mercy shixiong, anything else please, but don’t make me do this!”
Shen Qingqiu was merciless, “Tell him it was my order then, but you will cut it. I’m tired of Qing Jing suffering Bai Zhan’s lack of discipline.”
And so, Shang Qinghua folded like a wet scroll, promising to cut off Bai Zhan for a month in exchange for the discreet delivery of a fresh batch of Rising Swordgrass.