Chapter Text
For about three days, it's an effective-immediately-upon-decree of an indefinite ceasefire. People tiptoe, precariously living on the edge by breathing in the same direction as Shen Yuan, who looks about as good as a wilting corpse. His 17th is coming up, and he looks to be 20 years older, like a 27 year-old paid to play a teenager on an overrated TV show. He drags his feet around the house. He plays sad love songs; either by his own hands on the guzheng - the guqin sworn off after the Departure of He and under no circumstances is anyone to bring that up. No, everything is going very wrong, and this is an abjectly terrible time to have a birthday, but the people are managing as best as they can so collateral damage is kept to a minimum. It's a team effort. It's very hard to maintain. They can't ever catch a break like this.
A good thing arrives in the form of Huan Hua's Lao Gongzhu's trials and that means no creepy kid-snatching head of crime org is prowling about to nab kids off the street, a small consolation. Not that Cang Qiong hasn't been lowkey trained martially across all the peaks at this point, to counter against that. They've also kinda maybe entered into a sort of uncomfortable alliance with actual gangs in the area through affiliations of Qing Jing, Shang Qinghua and Xian Shu's badly kept side jobs and it's strange, seeing two diametrically opposite sides pairing up to defeat the common evil - rich people. Cang Qiong is still broke as fuck and viable options are dwindling down to straight up robbing from the rich or money laundering and taking potential students from Huan Hua counts as robbing the rich so Cang Qiong easily hops on that boat. Eat the rich. Liaise with the bikies.
Shen Yuan locks himself in his house for roughly a week after the initial moping sesh, eyes sunken and bloodshot like he hasn't slept a wink - which is more likely than not but shhh if nobody talks about it then it's not real - only to wander outside and hike immediately to Qiong Ding, no greetings or questions to any of his fellow housemates.
Madame Li, who was fixing a hose by the garage, saw the unmistakable stumble of one who was in deep grief, thought that this should not do, and alerted the rest of the household. Nobody changed into anything fancy, and they all sprinted to Qiong Ding to reel back their local lunatic who shouldn't be out in civilisation, he needs more time to rehab.
Not coincidentally, there is an all-peak meeting in Qiong Ding, where there are two crucial matters to discuss: future proceedings for Cang Qiong Range as a whole and appointments for the next heads of household to represent their respective clans to spearhead these meetings. Madame Shen, in what is possibly her last clan head meeting where she reigns as a clan head in the legal sense before stepping down and appointing the next heir to figure out what this all means while she lounges around and collects revenues from land and home rents and jumping classes. They are to address the Situation and plan around and for it. It's all serious and depressing. Shen Yuan the Moping Rag is headed straight there.
Yue Qi, reliable brother-angel-friend-son paragon that he is, is up and running, ditching the meeting when it just started, but he only caught Shen Jiu skulking outside the corridor, rumpled jumper on, while Madame Shen is off terrorising the rest of Cang Qiong.
"Xiao Jiu," the paragon of humanity approaches the closest thing people have to literal Satan on land, who scowls hard enough for his face to rearrange itself into something non-human. "What's the matter?"
Shen Jiu glares at the ornate door of the Qiong Ding War Council Room once, before he cuts sharp eyes to Yue Qi.
"You do realise, my stupid didi is in there with my mother."
The older boy blinks, backtracks. He did see someone with Madame, but he just assumed A-Yuan had not recovered well enough to grant everyone his presence, but it seemed that this was to be the only time he could not tell the twins apart. "Ah."
The rest of Qing Jing spills onto the corridor, arms and babbling overtaking the tense silence prior by aggression. Shen Jiu rolls his eyes hard enough to permanently show the whites of his eyes for a record ten seconds, while Yue Qi surreptitiously glances at the door, waiting for anyone to burst it open and summon them back in. He can reenter after the future plans of Cang Qiong had been hammered out and negotiated, just to not be rude, but it seems decorum may have to take a backseat with the strange urgency of replacing the correct twin to be named heir.
"There is an unstable person in there," Ning Yingying, wide eyes, lowered voice, solemnly tells the rest of her peak. "We must enter."
The door eases open, and Madame strides out, beckoning her son to enter, who hauls in the rest of the occupants who drag Yue Qi in.
The gist of it is like this -
1. Shen Yuan had gotten over himself, hasn't gotten over Luo Binghe but he still lives here so he has to do something about it
2. There is that Important Meeting. That he will crash
3. He's going to transform the fuck out of this mountain range that it'll become a safe haven for any kid who needs it, so that they can return to it however and whenever they want to
4. That means he has to impersonate his brother and tags along to be named fake heir for the Meeting
It went surprisingly well, once he made up his mind to enact it. His brother was locked in his room, he hustled Madame out into the car, strapped them both in and drove straight to Qiong Ding. He wore a semi-formal suit thingy. He plopped contacts in. He walked like he owns all the stock market.
It was a failure that he couldn't give Binghe the adequate shelter and protection he needed - hence the Departure. But he also tried in all possible manners of speaking, doing and thinking and that didn't work out so well, because you can't just force people to do things you want them to do. It's such a shame that others' actions aren't controllable by means of will, so they'll be less heartbreaks along the way, but someone who has to do something is an equally unattractive sight, so he's just here, wondering about what he should be doing, while things are Happening. It's great. He's fine.
"I'm not naming you heir," Madame tells him, halfway through.
"You'll have to," he tells her back. "I'm the only brain cell left in Qing Jing when you go off elsewhere." At her lifting brow, he continues. "And ge is thinking of an early marriage, so that means you either get reduced sovereignty with him and Qi-ge or you maintain the pureblood ruling via me and ge."
She turns away, contemplating it. "I'll not allow the wedding to proceed, not until A-Jiu finishes tertiary education. Regardless, I see the points you are making."
He doesn't celebrate just yet. Knowing Mother, she always has a but coming along.
"But...?" He prompts, just so they can save time.
"But what will you do when Luo Binghe returns?"
He didn't prepare for this answer, but he got it. This is in the metaphorical bag.
"Transfer ownership to Ning Yingying and Ming Fan, who will become legal Shens by that point, I assure you."
She rolls her eyes then, fingers nipping at his side. He flinches away, recoiling into himself.
"What," he whines. She calls for an adjournment, sweeping to rise up. She's taller than him with those monster boots and she will slip in insoles until the day he stops growing. He just knows this is true.
"I'm bringing your brothers and sister in," Madame announces. "Best to draft that apology speech in 10."
He blinks, eyes owlish. "10... what?"
She throws open the doors and comes back with ge. "9."
He swears, and dodges when his brother lunges at him, shooting over a couch and tackling him to the carpeted floor. "You piece of shit!"
Heirs named and titles passed down, Madame dismisses the Qing Jing Bunch early, choosing instead to chat with the Qis on how they're faring on their ends, Qi Qingqi happily entertaining her with tales of her exploits.
Ming Fan firmly stays by Shen Yuan's right while Ning Yingying remains at his left, shooing the lovebirds (whose marriage that was just freshly ruined and put on an indefinite hiatus) away, telling them to enjoy this time before the chaperone restriction becomes effective. Shen Jiu, murderously livid still, sees sense for roughly three seconds, and drags Yue Qi away, who waves a hasty goodbye at the children, happily tangling himself around his beloved in all sense besides the common law recognition.
"That's gross," Ming Fan wrinkles his nose.
Ning Yingying glares, offended. "I think they're cute."
"Well," Shen Yuan shrugs, and they both turn to look at him. "I threw them under the bus, so I don't get to talk much right now."
Ning Yingying stares at him, long and calculating. "You did. I didn't think you would pull your head out of your ass for long enough to do it, but you did."
He holds a hand over the right side of his chest, face pulled into a faux pout. "Ouch, Ying'er. That almost hurt."
Ming Fan hovers near him, afraid to make physical, tangible contact. "You okay now, ge?"
He shrugs. "Who knows. And you two, you know that you can act normal around me right? Stop all the tiptoeing."
Ning Yingying rolls her eyes at him. Ming Fan flinches.
"We will if you forgive us for y'know, the Tournament," Ming Fan ventures.
Shen Yuan stops walking, loosely jostling their walk crabbing formation. It's a really long way back to Qing Jing and ideally, enough of a distance to start yelling and holding a grudge over people. But... he's tired. He's been crying and screaming inside his house and out in the field, sitting in an empty bathtub and a full bathtub, stealing ice cream and playing until his fingers bleed. It's fine to put that all on pause and pretend like nothing's changed, they've always been this way. A semblance of normalcy, forced among all the turbulence.
"There's nothing to forgive," he says, and means it. "You've done what you believed was right, and I know you all had my best interests at heart. But right now, I need us to act like normal. If I break then I break."
Ning Yingying snorts then. A true unladylike snort.
He cuts her a look. She matches it, eyes mischievous.
"Wouldn't be that hard to break you, Yuan-ge, you're as athletic as a stick."
Ming Fan covers his mouth in faked shock as Shen Yuan lurches forward onto Ning Yingying, who darts out of the way, sprinting away and shrieking as her brother gives chase, Ming Fan yelling at them to be careful and mind the road, Jesus fuck.
("You lot okay now?" Madame checks in on them.
Ming Fan has the audacity to give her twin thumbs up. Ning Yingying apologises for being in the same space as him. Shen Yuan only waves.)
Tianlang-Jun may have whisked off his heir and nephew to Fuck-off Wherever, but Mobei-Jun remains mostly near Cang Qiong, down south in Ri Zhi. Shang Qinghua regularly makes trips down there to report on the happenings of his assignments, but after the money had been restored faithfully to the Mobei Clan after Huan Hua went kablow, there hasn’t been much work to do, even if Qinghua himself still routinely turns in at Ri Zhi. He’s pissed afraid of the young master, Mobei-Jun, who has eyes of icicles and can probably summon an avalanche to murder him if he so thinks of toeing a line. Most of the time, he has the very dependable shields of Luo Binghe to get by and not get pummelled to death by Mobei-Jun, and quite recently, Shen Yuan is his sponsor, being Luo Binghe-adjacent as he is. He’ll like that, that Cucumber Brat, being pretty much unidentifiable from his precious baby Luo Binghe. Urgh. Gag to death.
Nowadays it seems that he sees both of Xian Shu’s leading murderesses oops beauties’ lovers more than they can themselves, with the renovation perpetually happening and nobody having time to even breathe. Technically, he should be worrying to death about logistics too, but nope, he ran off to Ri Zhi for a reason to skive off work so he’ll stay here for as long as Mobei-Jun can tolerate him, then he’ll drag himself back and die among the paperwork.
Sha Hualing peers over her glasses - she wears the fuck off Minogue ones and he’s pretty sure those are worth more than his entire wardrobe on his person - frown puckering at her small mouth. Since Liu Mingyan started putting her onto a mat, the witch mellowed out and is less prone to scratch his skin off his body now that he frequents bikies’ territories. His presence is mostly a confusing one now, his need that requires a presence essentially nonexistent by this point, yet here he is. Still here. Lounging around. Mumbling around a mouthful of rice crackers about new plot points of his ongoing web series on Tapas that’s gaining traction. One day he’ll see a donghua adaptation of it.
Mobei-Jun is stewing in a corner, rapidly typing on his phone while eyeing the both of them with a third eye he houses somewhere in that impressive head of hair. Who knows what secrets hot people harbour in their bodies. They're already inhuman.
"What," he grouses after making too much eye contact with Sha Hualing, because one can only do so much of that until they have no more eye balls left. He kinda likes where his eyes are already.
"Why are you here," she demands, throwing another leg onto the table, skirt hitched up higher. He's noting this with the dawning horror of a prey being reeled in unnoticed by a luring predator because now there are two of them, the witch and her murder veil girlfriend who will make sure he's double dead. It's not like he has any choice. Sha Hualing gouges eyes! And that skirt is really short, wow, how can anyone wear that in this ice box.
He snaps back into attention when Sha Hualing's staring gets a bit much, like a visible iron brand on the side of his head.
"Why not," he raises all the brows that he has. It's not a lot because he got a bisected left eyebrow from that adventurous barbering experience in Wan Jian, but it's just how it is.
Sha Hualing continues at him like he's being difficult on purpose.
"Uh, because our contract is ov -"
Mobei-Jun puts down his phone, face up, on the table, leaning to look right at him.
"We're going back. Get your coat."
He scrambles, quicker than ever, glad to be sent away, so he won't meet his untimely, tragic end, in Ri Zhi of all the place, not sparing a single glance back. Just because he can't see any evil, doesn't mean he hears no evil.
Mobei-Jun magma-level voice drawls, slow and dangerous, like very very hot wax spilt on skin.
"Quit your bothering, witch."
"Why do you keep him around then? I'm tame as of now, and I put the fear of god into his mousy body. How will he fare with everyone else? Put him back. We've done more than enough."
There is silence, until Mobei-Jun speaks again. Firm. Commanding. The Heir Voice.
"Shang Qinghua holds a standing invitation to visit Ri Zhi as he wishes. When he stepped foot on my grounds, he is under the full protection of the Mobei Clan. Others would have to try very hard to disturb this decree."
Shang Qinghua is thinking Very Hard upon hearing that. Clearly he did something to warrant that kind of unlimited, wide range protection scheme. He's wracking his brain, but all he did was stick closely to Mobei-Jun throughout this entire thing and occasionally grabbed him by the arm and the thigh - Cucumber Bro affectionately told him it just looked like he's 'hugging the thighs of a hot dude' - and you know what, Cucumber Bro, Shen Yuan, what if he did? It got him through life. He's here because he attached himself like a limpet to the scariest dude out there and paid his homages. He paid for that mafia services so the mafia can bully other mafia for him. It paid off.
It does not click that somehow, the mafia is now offering services even though the terms of their contract are over, legally and in every obligation possible. He had spied and reported and faithfully gave away nothing of his allegiance. He stood on trial. He swore under oath that they, the people he associated with to lump as 'they', were there to defend their interests and ownership of Luo Binghe and they had proceeded, though lowkey illegally, with grace and moral intentions. This bullshit flew in court and so the old creep was put in jail and fined a huge amount. What a huge huge relief. So that's done.
What isn't done is how he's still associating with the mafia, who are all bark and no bite, so he's just chilling here, Mobei-Jun or not, until he's kicked out of his temporary membership.
"Mobei-Jun, um," he starts, forgoing all embarrassment at his inability to sound like a human at any given point in time.
Sharp eyes cut down to his mortal level, frosty and cool and deadly. Proceed. That grunt has to mean proceed, right?
"Why am I, ah, still invited to stay in Ri Zhi?"
"Do you not want to?" Is the counterargument. His hand immediately flies to the front of his face. Nope! Nope.
"I was under the impression that I've overstayed my welcome," he tells it like how it sounds in his head. Yeah. Yeah that's about right. "Also I wasn't too sure that you even tolerated me."
Mobei-Jun opens the car door and holds it for him to scramble into the front seat. The door closes on his left side and the guy takes about two strides of his long legs to get to the other side, easing open the door and sliding in.
Door: Closed
Seat belt: Clipped
Car: Started
He is driven back to his home, in utter silence.
At his front door, Mobei-Jun stops the car, but turns to face him, eyes and face the same as always. Flat, cold stone resting bitch face.
"Uh," Shang Qinghua begins, then stops. "Can I go in?"
"Will you run away again?" He is subjected to another bout of intense, judgemental staring. It's flat as fuck but it sure feels judgy as hell. And he ran away once! He has self-preserving instincts sometimes and they were telling him to jump ship, so he did, but that wasn't until the psycho Uncle tracked him down and almost put him in an early morgue, but he got bailed out of that path by the mafia arriving and putting the Uncle rightfully in the ravine leading off to Fuck-knows-ville. It was also lowkey when he fessed up all the embarrassing mushy love feelings he's been carting around since forever, and he was hoping they could both forget that for the greater good. It didn't happen if they don't talk about it. That's how reality works. He squirms in his seat, trying to shrink deeper into the plush cushioning.
"I mean, you said you were fine with it, so I'll go until you throw me out," he shrugs, a hand on the door. The stare gets a bit more confused, as it's not sure what it should be doing at this point in time.
"What if it's for a while," Mobei-Jun throws that out there, an experimental toss, except it hit him with enough force to break something major. Like his lungs, heart and throat.
"How... how long are we talking," he ventures back.
Mobei-Jun matches his eyes with a weird intensity. I'm watching you eyes of a predator.
"As long as you'll have me. You said that you'll follow me wherever I go, so I'm holding you onto that."
He opens his mouth to launch into a rant about the imminence of how he was almost dying in that instance of their first meeting, being beaten black and blue once again - there hasn't been a single instance in the past where he wasn't beaten up hideously and violently in front of the Mobei Clan. He quickly shuts his trap when the icy stare dares him to rebut that. Rebut and see where his body will end up.
Throwing himself bodily onto the door, he groans. "Sure. Why not. Do whatever you want."
Mobei-Jun doesn't acknowledge that. "What sort of behaviours please you."
"Hah?" He grunts, scraping himself off the door. "Why the sudden onslaught of questions?"
Mobei-Jun only stares. "I'm making an effort."
"Good for us," Shang Qinghua nods. "And, look, I don't know, I've been treated like whatever for the course of my natural life, just, be gentle. Decent. This," he frowns, shudders, but regains his guts to keep on going. "Is okay. I think."
"You think." It is indeed possible to die under such a tone, yes.
"It's a learning curve for both of us, mate," he bats the eyes away, too scared that he surpassed that rational bracket and he's just normally conversing at this moment. "I gotta go. Do you mind?"
He doesn't yank open the door and roll out like it's a car chase scene. He asked, good for them, but he wouldn't be taking one for an answer, hand already keyed in to perform the survival roll from an action-packed car chase scene because it might happen, who knows.
Mobei-Jun sits back in his seat, scowl now on his face.
"No. Go."
He rolls his eyes at the borderline commanding tone. "I'll see you when I see ya, buddy. Don't get into too much trouble."
He's still wondering what the heck was all that when the car pulls away in another direction and he's trekking back to An Ding.
.
It went on quite well for a while, with Shen Yuan only mildly breaking down every week or so, but gradually, with all the stress and no Luo Binghe there to keep him in check, Shen Yuan taps out of control and sense. Occasionally, he departs down a sort of scheduled frame of action, but more often than not, that frame of action follows the direction of the three moods: mournful guzheng strumming, manic restructuring systems concentration zone and today-I-will-cause-problems-on-purpose. Unfortunately for Mu Qingfang, today is a Mood 3 kinda day, good for Shen but not good for him, because all the old lecturers want him to actually get out of this regressive mountain range so they’re extra tough on him to do well and bail ship.
They made arrangements (he did, Shen Yuan just has to show up in the relative time frame Qingfang provided, a task that he himself is even doubtful of being able to pull off) to meet, to study - he will be, he’s never sure about what Shen Yuan is tasked with, just that he is either busy to the point of a whole week of no sleep or he’s been doing fuck all for three days in a row and not going to classes. It’s a miracle how he hasn’t been kicked out of school yet, but it must be the eyes and the voice. This one is a very convincing actor at playing the miserable orphan and neglected middle sibling who’s going through endless hardships via the curse of Qing Jing, Atreus’ style. It brings forth the tears to every person who ever bear witness to this song and usually Qingfang doesn’t care about a lot of people, but this is his friend, one of his closest, and he’s spinning out of control, so he has to do something to help, in his limited, pre-med-degree capacity.
Shen Yuan miraculously shows up, five minutes early, and sits quietly as Qingfang alternates between rapidly ripping through his chemistry questions and nagging him for not eating breakfast, digging out a container. They won’t have English until later, so that’s a solace at least, a free period that Shen Yuan can justifiably dick around doing fuck all. He’s fed and he has a reason to run around attempting to cartwheel without any regard to his spinal cord. It’s the little things that keep them happy.
But it was too good to last. He should have known this slippery bastard would be up to no good.
Shen Yuan is cartwheeling, until he is considerably a distance away from Qingfang, waving his arms like an airport conductor man. Beep beep. Look at me, my elbows are above my head. Beep beep. Pay attention to me. Land in terminal 4T.
“Fang’er, make up an excuse for me!”
Qingfang is dead to the world. At this point, nothing surprises him anymore. He stares, Shen Yuan crab walking away, before he jerks up with a start.
“Yah! Shen Yuan!”
The troublemaker had already booked it across the hedge and beyond eyesight. Mu Qingfang drags himself physically to the class, mind stuck still on where would be the best place to climb to for the best reception to apply to VTAC, as the old monk from Ku Xing, Ju Shu, roves a hawk eye over the motley class of disciples he’s had since they all were 10, pausing as he notes the lack of a Shen Yuan by Mu Qingfang’s side.
“Mu Qingfang,” Teacher Ju looks at him. “Where’s the problem child?”
He went through a conversation like this last year where he was put in detention (where he studied for his SAC with Liu Qingge trying to rote memorise his Human Development notes), so he’s not exactly keen on reenacting that specifically mortifying experience.
“I saw him. He said ‘make up an excuse for me’. I am now here, and he isn’t,” he blandly reports, and if he was any other student, the old monk would have thrown them out the window, but he doesn’t hate Qingfang that much, so he only rolls his eyes and moves on, but not without significant warning in his eyes.
Ji Jue is by the doorway, waving at him, Liu Qingge in tow. Liu Mingyan easily steps over the liminal space, trampling all over the imaginary borders because she most likely has no regards for their importance whose impact affects her naught in her daily happenings, stride decisive. Qingfang is reminded, quite painfully and with outright panic, of all the gangster girls in Japan Yonder, but quickly reassures himself that this is Mingyan, who he sort of raised, so if she is a gangster (she might as well be), she won’t inflict violence upon his person. Much, anyways, or of any significant, everlasting damage.
“Yes?” He tries to lounge back in his chair, but finds that it is a futile effort. Mingyan is by his seat now, sweeping her long skirt to slam a foot between his thighs, which he parted in superhuman haste to avoid everlasting damage, eyes wide as she crosses her arms, eyes thunderous.
“You saw Shen Yuan this morning?” She demands. Mingyan hardly asks for anything, these days.
“For like, ten minutes, yeah.”
“Which direction did he run off to?”
“Somewhere to the east, why?”
She retreats her foot, nods at her brothers, before they start marching out of his English class. The nerve of these Bai Zhan Brutes. Mu Qingfang quickly gathers his wits before charging after them, keeping a distance as the entourage stops at his following run up.
“This doesn’t concern you, Mu-xiong,” Mingyan, rather frostily, dismisses him.
He puffs his cheeks, too many thoughts crowding his brain.
“Yes it does,” he decides after a stretch of silence. “He’s my friend. You three are my friends. I don’t want any conflict between any of my friends.”
Ji Jue grins, boyish and lopsided. “Did you think we were going to beat him up, Mu-ge?”
His eyes are wide and sarcastic. “I don’t know, Ji, whenever people show up to my classes demanding to know where my friends are and put reasonable fear of safety for others in my head, the law generally agrees with me that there is a guilty mind here to commit something. Of considerable violence.”
Nobody denies or acquiesces to his monologue, though Qingge does roll his eyes, in that exasperated way that he does.
“Should’ve gone the law path instead, doctor boy.”
He whirls onto easily the weakest link, because Liu Qingge may have beaten up kids as a form of tough love slash discipline in the past, but he did it out of goodwill. After Mu Qingfang yelled at him regarding those beaten up kids, the guy did a 180 and stopped, so it’s not as if he’s unreasonable, nobody ever explained things to him properly. They shared camaraderie over doing bio and methods together, a terrible combination, really - so there is a connection. They are linked by mutual suffering. They are linked by their fierce love for Shen Yuan. They love Cang Qiong. They want this place to withstand the terrible tests of society and time.
“You literally just called me ‘doctor boy’,” he jibes, the dig friendly, as Liu Qingge rolls his eyes again. “And you two, don’t be too wild and reckless with my A-Yuan, okay, he’s out of control but he’s still family.”
“He stole like, eighty bikes in the past four days,” Ji Jue very reasonably points out.
Mu Qingfang plays along with it. “He’s adopted. Plus, he returned them.”
“Yeah, so I’ve heard. We’re not here to assassinate though, we’re here to extract. Qing Jing’s orders. Big Man Shen wants to have word with his didi so he cashed in a favour Liu-ge owed him.”
He squints, hard. His eyes are crossed over.
“What kinda idiot are you to owe Shen Jiu a favour? Did you hit your head?”
In the time it takes Liu Qingge to glare half-heartedly back, Mingyan had already hacked onto the local satellite network and pinpointed where exactly the trouble child had spirited himself off to, because she and Ji Jue split off into dead sprints, Qingfang’s reprimand too far away for them to heed, not that they would, anyways. He doesn’t bother with telling off Qingge, because he’s a known pushover when it comes to his sister anyways, so he’s better off conserving his breath on somewhere more fruitful.
“Studying hard?” Qingge asks before the shrieks start racking in. Qingfang scrubs a hand over his eyes, thanking past him for not bothering with glasses that day, because he does not want to See at the moment.
“Too hard. You better tend to that.”
The other boy hardly budges. “Hard enough to warrant you a one-way ticket out of here?”
He frowns. “Well, that is a Goal.”
“But not the goal?”
“The goal is to continue living here and become a doctor, which I’ll have to work extra hard to have my way for both options. I’m not going to give up on my future career or my home. It’s not the be all or end all all the time for some of us. We have moderation in our veins.” He snorts, knowing where this is going. He’s been voted Most Likely To Fuck Off, just a few points after the newly departed Luo Binghe.
The tiny frown between Liu Qingge’s eyebrows ease out, as if he’s been carrying that dormant doubt around on his forehead, hoping that the harder he frowns, the more chances he has of it disappearing from the strand of reality.
It’s nice. It sets a few things in consideration. The first is that Liu Qingge’s strict circle of concern had expanded. The second is that he is being his own person outside of his moniker of Bai Zhan Brute and making, though unexpected decisions, besides Immediate Violence. The third is that no matter how much Mu Qingfang denied him of his intentions, Liu Qingge is one more person who frowns and frets that he possibly is leaving them all to pursue a better life off elsewhere and that at least stemmed from a source of platonic care and feelings and all of that.
Mu Qingfang is really tired. He’s gross and he hasn’t slept and he possibly has to set out some bones later when Mingyan comes back with his broken buddy. He’s at no liberty to act on his long-term, very much pathetic, crush on his childhood friend. So he only smiles, tired and fond, at Qingge, shoos him off to his own class, and staggers back in to his own.
“Mu Qingfang,” Liu Qingge’s small mouth forms the phrase, the top of his head level to Qingfang’s ears. “I’m glad. You’re not leaving. Not indefinitely.”
So he has a crush. That justifies the Soft Gaze he dishes out.
“Me too,” he whispers, sagging on the doorway, like a lovestruck fool.
Liu Qingge shuffles his feet, appearing once to be incapable of acting decisively.
“Good. We’ll need you here.”
He opens his mouth to be an asshole, no doubt, because he’s not a doctor yet, so he gets unreserved rights to wreck as much damage to his heart’s desires, but Liu Qingge beats him to it, apparently now becoming one who speaks in prolonged pauses in his speeches.
“And I want you here. Staying with us. So. If I can help in any way, I’ll be at your service.”
With that head-kicking declaration dished out, the eldest Liu boy sprints away, leaving him gawking, combobulated and struck, clutching at the doorway, so much that Teacher Ju has to slap him off it, 0.5m ruler poking at him hard enough for him to yelp himself off the doorway.
(He’s seventeen years old and had never had a proper conversation with his crush. They had perennially only spoken through the medium of Shen Yuan. It is incredibly rude that his crush had sustained its impact until now, infusing into his being. He has no other mode of being except Loving Liu Qingge. That’s it. That’s all he does.
The Crush Boy, thin and wiry and dangerous, sits flicking through a health and development textbook with a pile of flashcards pinned together primly, forehead wrinkled in a tense effort to no doubt memorise all of that content.
Mu Qingfang would have been fine standing there and staring, but his loud and gross pining must have had a warning bell attached to it, because Liu Qingge lifts his head in faint disgust as he scowls at Qingfang, visibly bristled that his train of concentration had been cut off by all the poetic waxing that Qingfang is subjecting him to inside his head.
“You need somethin’?” The Crush Boy grunts. He quickly jerks his head into a vehement Lucky Cat staccato shake, before assuming a seat so that this conversation can be cut short as soon as possible.
That doesn’t really happen. What happens is that Liu Qingge closes his book with an audible sigh and stands, striding over to Qingfang who only got to fumble with his physics textbook and almost stabbing himself with his pacer when it sprang out from his packed pencil case.
“Yes?” He squeaks, hugging his hands to his chest.
Liu Qingge snorts, before sinking down, so that he can rest his arms and his very very sharp jawline on the crook of those arms, lifting his finely shaped eyebrows up at Disaster Man, Mu Qingfang.
“You’re in the same class as Shen Yuan.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yeah. He -” Qingfang might be an asshole to his friend but he’s not a snitch “- was. Until he took the day off.”
The eyebrows climb even higher. “How come?”
He… didn’t plan for this part. His entire exchange with Old Monk Ju Shu had gone precisely like this
“Shen Yuan… is going through labour pains. So he’s taking a sick day off school.”
The Venerable Teacher had been reasonably bamboozled. He repeated the excuse, before confirming. “He. Shen Yuan. He’s giving birth?”
Mu Qingfang, already in too much shit, had dutifully chirped a ‘Yes, sir’ and landed himself in detention. He’s not going to embarrass himself twice in a row. He’s no Ham- ‘do you think I am easier to play than a pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, yet you cannot play upon me’ -let, but he is Mu ‘I won’t play myself twice on the same day’ Qingfang.
“Ever heard of mental health days?” He asks, more into the unknown than directly at Liu Qingge. “Anyways, as your amateur health practitioner, I thought it was good for Shen Yuan to ditch the insidious institution aimed to stress him out so he can work on his inner problems rather than sit here and repress them until they blow up in his face.”
Liu Qingge, for once, doesn’t show him a Murder Face.
“And how did that work out?”
He’s been chewing on the end of his pacer. He should really stop that.
“Dunno. Have to run into him for a follow up to see. Hopefully he’s less scream-y.”
Liu Qingge then pushes himself off onto his feet, before nodding at him. Mu Qingfang is so thoroughly confused that he forgets he has a crush on the guy, just decides that it is entirely his right to gawk at him in the most unflattering manner to ever unflatter.
“You’re a good friend. Mu Qingfang.”
“You know you make random pauses when you talk right?” He whispers across the room, as Qingge introduces him to a middle finger, veins lacing that hand. It’s cute, he doesn’t say, but they’re one step closer to being actual acquaintances, so he’ll take what he can get.)
.
Neither Shen Jiu or Liu Mingyan get to Shen Yuan. Liu Qingge is told third hand by Wei Qingwei who was bullied by Ning Yingying to never reveal this secret hiding spot, and that's where he's headed, to prevent wide scale panic and to reign back the rampaging moron.
"Hey," he greets, easy now that he can confirm that the mountain's favourite gremlin child hasn't gone off the radar and pitched himself headfirst down a ravine somewhere.
Shen Yuan startles, clearly not expecting anyone to be able or bother enough to find him. He looks terrible. Eye bags down to his knees. Pallid skin. Wild, pulled-on hair. He's wearing glasses instead of his contacts. He should be at home and getting aggressively nursed back to annoying and healthy by his flock of family members, not sitting out here and brooding like a Byronic hero. It doesn't suit his general vibe.
"Why are you here?" The boy snaps, rising with heckled raised.
"I was looking for you," he stares, voice flat. "Go home."
"Don't tell me what to do," Shen Yuan snaps, like an errant child.
"Would you rather I just make you go home then? I can do that," he offers, as the furious brown eyes darken. Like a storm gathering winds.
"What I do has nothing with you, Liu Qingge. Go away," he seethes, the sound like a billion winds howling.
It truly doesn't, but he doubts a rational Shen Yuan would agree with his current behaviour. They are all going through sudden changes, and they don't know what they're doing, but that doesn't mean they can't establish order amidst chaos. Seemingly, the Shens disagree with that in varying increments, with Shen Yuan being the closest increment to disagreement. It's all screaming and disorder in Qing Jing and usually that's charming in its own way, but at this rate, this is just headed toward destruction and Cang Qiong needs its tactical division intact or else it will fall apart.
"Yes it does. We need you," he states, none of it untrue. "You dying is going to be us dying."
Shen Yuan snorts, shuffling his feet. "You of all people certainly don't need me."
He side eyes the boy. "And now you are speaking for me."
A stretch of silence, before a disgruntled noise is ripped loose from the back of Shen Yuan's throat. He is warring with his upbringing to be courteous to others and also his desires to be left alone. Liu Qingge has no desire to wreck either of those combustible ideals, therefore he makes his arguments known before he beats a retreat.
"Go away, Liu Qingge," Shen Yuan says, shoulders slumping in defeat.
"Not before you hear what I have to say," he doesn't take a step, but in his head he sees that he had. Shen Yuan is intelligent, and as all brood of Qing Jing, listens when an argument is lodged against him. He isn't entirely unreasonable, and Qingge takes this window of opportunity to say what was needed to be said.
"What now -"
"I love you. And it's hard to show you, but I care about you. This is going to hurt you in the long term and as a friend and someone who loves you, I'm going to talk you out of destroying yourself. I love you in the way that one can another another soul to soul, heart to heart, and I'm not expecting you to do anything about it, because I love you from the heart of a man, but I also love you from the heart of a friend and brother, so please, don't hurt yourself anymore than you already are."
Shen Yuan goes still over a progression of two seconds. No colours on his skin. His eyes are completely wide, blown up as far as they can go. The fists he drew by his side relaxed into wide stretches of fingers, grasping at the words he just gave. Shen Yuan is gaping, searching for words but finding none.
"You - for how long?"
"I don't know," he shrugs, because love to Lius is just a matter of everyday life. To love well is to fight well. They go hand in hand. "Since as long as I can remember."
"Do you - still ... now?" The other opens and closes his mouth.
"People can't just stop loving another. It's just not possible." He is less broken up about this admission than the recipient of his affections, which he had always felt is a gift and a curse, this natural empathy that Shen Yuan carries with him. "So now that you know -"
"Oh my god I've been breaking your heart," Shen Yuan clutches his temples, terror leaking into his voice. "I have been a terrible, terrible friend."
He leans back on a hip, completely at ease. He's had years to live with this. Shen Yuan had about a minute. He's allowed to break down over it.
"You didn't break my heart, not exactly, in the past, but you are now, so I need you to stop this bullshit," he takes that step, for he feels this is going to spiral into Shen Yuan wantonly throwing himself down a ravine and ending up in hospital, which he'd much rather not have Mu Qingfang up in his face about, when he's not a fully licensed doctor.
"You... had a crush on me," Shen Yuan states again, just to be sure.
He rolls his eyes. "No, I just confessed my undying love to the mountain range."
"Never mind that. How do you feel now?"
He looks at Shen Yuan and searches deep within himself. The sentiments linger, but he's come to terms that feelings won't be reciprocated all the time and that the experience will be terrible every time, but it will help him grow. He never once expected anything from Shen Yuan, not then, not ever, certainly not now.
"I lived with my feelings for years. How do you feel since I just told you?"
"Abject terrible," his friend whispers. "I want to beg for your forgiveness."
"Over my feelings, something both of us can't control?" He snorts. "Come off it. We can go back and you can break down over tea. Give me your hand. I won't do anything."
Shen Yuan easily takes his offered hand, the easy tactility between them remaining, holding. It's good. It's great, even. He's never been bitter - he knows it wouldn't work out anyways.
"Okay now that you've brilliantly misdirected me, can you at least tell me if you've got like, anyone else you like so I can set y'all up and do my part as a good friend -"
"How about you do your own job and I'll figure mine out huh? Nosy brat."
"You know I'm older than you right? Older. So respect me."
Liu Qingge still feels a light tapping in his heart when Shen Yuan loops an arm through his, but it's a muted, comfortable rhythm, no longer a jackrabbit out of control, sledgehammer slamming between ribs. It's good. He loves this boy, he always had, he always will, but it's going to grow in a direction he didn't expect it to, but not entirely unappreciated. He has the feelings, he has acted on them, and here they are- still the same, even closer.
He likes this development. He likes other developments too, where he's branching out and talking to ones he wouldn't usually converse to.
"I'll only respect elders who have earned my respect," Liu Qingge replies, airy, a teasing edge to his voice. Shen Yuan gasps, momentarily forgets to be a brat and sad, flinging himself away and screaming at him.
It's good.
.
Liu Qingge delivers Shen Yuan right into the Devil. His brother.
Shen Jiu doesn't launch into a righteous rant - a small mercy.
Shen Jiu goes right for the left hook - unexpected but not surprising - crashing against Shen Yuan's right side of the face. He hits the floor, very hard.
Liu Qingge legally and morally is banned from entering Qing Jing unless he's granted permission, and since that's not happening soon, he swiftly and quickly departs, making a note to contact Mu Qingfang since his services are very much required after this. The brothers are locked in serious battle mode. It could be very damaging, along with the catharsis.
"Where the fuck were you?!" Shen Jiu's noticeable voice shrieks. It is ear-piercing.
His brother groans from the floor, eyes shut, then waves in a general direction. "Liu Qingge, go home."
"Don't kill him," he says. Meant every word.
Shen Jiu scowls, savage and unhinged, then his brother opens his eyes, bucks him off, and waves Liu Qingge off, with eye contact this time.
"Bye bye!" He intones, eyes wide. It is a demand for him to move. Leave. Go. He's no longer needed.
"Ge, will you fuckin' chill for three seconds, I think you broke my glasses -"
So, here is the thing -
Just as Shen Yuan knew Luo Binghe was leaving, he knew, with his superior twin, otherworldly, beyond science and biology, that his twin brother had been hiding something since ages ago. They're fantastic at lying to other people, despite the holy, sworn-on-our-name oath to never, but who's going to fault them? Nobody. So when Shen Yuan, who shares like 99.97% of his genes with this bastard, sensed that something is off, it is off. And he's right.
He had refused outright conversations with his brother. He had literally bailed ship, pulled a Luo Binghe and camped on and off in Madame Li's cottage or wound up in Bai Zhan. He is a displaced minor, barely just a few months short - his 18th is not going to be a fun occasion, especially with Madame declaring her business to be void and finished in Cang Qiong and she's actually going to the Soviet Bloc to establish blood right claim in the Czarist Revisionism Movement. Which leaves him and his brother to address this massive elephant in the room and no, he's been functional for a long time now. Mu Qingfang managed to nag him to turn up to classes about 3 out of 5 days - a much higher rate than his previous performance of dead zero. He didn't want to be running around with ge on his back again, not when of all people, he should be the one to apologise to his face.
When Liu Mingyan tipped off his brother's request, Shen Yuan knew there was only too much time he could potentially stockpile before it all runs out and his brother starts killing him in the backyard. The punch had not been a surprise. He expected that. No apple bottom jeans, no Newtonian apple - just gravity sucker punching him to the ground, his brother flailing on top.
"You," he steadies ge, staring right into a face that is his as well as his brother's. "Jesus Christ it's like staring into a mirror. Anyways. You."
Jiu-ge, comfortably, digs an elbow into his ribs. Ow. "You said that twice now. Why are you trying to orphan yourself? You can't survive out there on your own."
"Um I could," he mock glares. "And I'd much rather take my chances than live with snitches," he rams right into it. When his brother starts to squint in genuine confusion, he thinks to add a perfunctory 'Bitch'. It gets him a fist to the shoulder. He should be sitting up.
"How am I a snitch, huh? I raised you on my back."
"Just because you did doesn't mean you get to run my entire life. All 100% of it. That ain't fair for me," he counters, bucking and rising up, shoulders, neck, back, sitting back on a hand or five. He's got this sitting upright thing down pat.
His brother is still squinting at him. "Oi. What's this about."
"I - what aren't you telling me, ge?" He asks, and things change. They're not mucking around anymore. They're fighting with words now. It's devastating. Ten times the impact.
Shen Jiu shifts then, suddenly uncomfortable. Shen Yuan could see where it sets in, where his brother starts to draft diplomatic answers to a question that can so easily be handled by him outwardly answering it. Just give it to him. Why go the long and uncomfortable route.
"Brat," Jiu-ge settles with, after an awkward ten seconds pause. "Why were you so sad about Luo Binghe leaving?"
"Because we were good friends and I have an unhealthy attachment to him so him leaving is also me leaving and I can't deal with it? We were really close. You can't just up and leave and hope everyone will be okay with it," he explains, with simple words, because this ge looks to be out of it altogether, and he cannot lose him while he got him here and they're both having the talk they do not want to have. But sucks to suck, this is a packaged deal, if ge hates it then too bad, they're doing this now. Here. Then.
"What if like, you could have prevented that. Crying. Moping. Obsessive whatever the fuck you're doing," ge waves a hand around vaguely.
It's his turn to squint. It's rare for his brother to answer via questions, because not even Qi-ge get this alternate treatment and Jiu-ge is mostly decent and possibly even nice to their Qi-ge. It's just like he suspected - shit is really bad for his brother to suddenly turn into this horrible decent person. He doesn't like it. Put it back.
"Well, people spiral out of control sooner or later," he starts to patiently explain. "They happen. To people. I am people and I will spin out of control sooner or later. I'd prefer to just do it and get it over with."
"But if you'd known -" his brother insists, and maybe Shen Yuan is seeing a little something of the big secret he's hoarding, but he's not engaging in it immediately,
"If I'd known, I'd be grateful for the knowledge. I hate not knowing," he states, firm. "You know this, ge. More than anyone else."
His brother is silent.
"Ge?"
"Yeah," Shen Jiu winces. "Yeah I do. But I still did it anyways, because while you appreciate knowing, I appreciate people looking out for me."
"Not like, all the time," he points out. "I'm not that weak. Not anymore."
His brother glances at him, torn between fond and angry. "Yeah, not anymore. But I'm crazy protective over you. You're my twin. All the shit that happens to you should be my infliction only."
Shen Yuan is trying his best here. He really is. "And so you what, steer events away so that all my problems are you-related? Life doesn't work like that. If all my problems originate from you, I'd just kill you and live a happy life, but shit ain't that simple, ever. We just gotta roll with it."
"Aren't you mad though that I dabbled in something that I shouldn't have?" His brother does not lift his head.
Truly, Shen Yuan wants an apology. But truly also, he's not a bitter person. He hates it when other people feel bad because he was the cause or he breathed near them. Annoying as his brother is, he doesn't want angst where he can help it. He went through all that depressive breakdown mumbo jumbo. It's not nice. People should stay out of it.
"I'm mad, but I'm not as mad as you are at yourself, ge," he points out, lifting a hand and balancing his entire body weight onto a single hand. Gods, please let this be quick. He has weak arms. "How you feelin'?"
"Like an absolute bastard. The worst scum to ever exist," Jiu-ge bemoans, kinda genuinely. He could be doing this to take the piss out of Shen Yuan too. It's 50/50.
His hand pauses in the air. "You know, I was going to offer a supportive pat, but you don't deserve it. Serves you right for acting on your hubris. You'll never forgive yourself for this."
His brother is quiet again. He struck a nerve.
"I won't," ge smiles, even though it's kinda sad and pathetic. "And I'll have to live with it."
"Tough shit, buddy," he does dish out that pat. "Oh, and, what do we say when we fucked up monumentally like this?"
"Tough shit, buddy," his brother parrots back, and flinches bodily when he pinches his neck. "Ow, ow, fuckin' okay."
"Suffer," he sniffs, not even remotely sorry. Jiu-ge pries him off and he's back on two hands again, lounging. His brother shuffles into a weirdly respectful stance, polite hands clasped over one another, head bowed. Ah?
"I'm sorry. For meddling in your life and taking away the choice for you to choose, which was yours. I'm sorry for not telling you about this weird fuck secret that I knew could impact on your life, even though you'll better off knowing. Sorry that I've been a shitty brother to you. I haven't been listenin'. D'ya think you can forgive me?"
As if it is as easy as taking in air, he peels himself off the ground, grass staining everything green and gritty, and wraps his hands around his brother's own.
"You done fucked up," he singsongs first, "but you did nothing wrong. So, nothing to forgive."
It is possible that he might have made his brother cry on the lawn. It stays between them though. Shh.
("So, what was the big secret?"
"Oh. Just. Red string of fate, you heard of that?"
"Yeah, in a manga. Holy shit, for real? For real for real?"
"Why the fuck would I pull ya leg for? Fuck off, go away, I'm never telling you anything again."
Shen Yuan cackles, fleeing from his brother's side, and bumping into someone, string all tangled up around him and pulsating, hard, to his brother's direction. Tree Gege smiles, gentle and kind, as he untangles himself from the tall boy, giggling as Jiu-ge screams for death and proceeds to swear Tree Gege out.
Oh, how the turn had tabled. His brother thought. His brother thought.
"String huh," he considers, imagining his to be leading to wherever Luo Binghe is. "Guess we really are 'fated' to be, brat. I didn't know, but I chose you anyways.")
Shen Jiu pulls onto Yue Qi one perfectly mundane afternoon, after his regularly scheduled one hour long staring session at his twin, to the ire of the both of them. They’re the last Shens still remaining here - Mother took all possible relatives off Cang Qiong and flung them into the South China Sea, essentially abandoning them. They only have each other now, and more, if he somehow swindles enough funds to magically expedite the name changes for both Ning Yingying and Ming Fan to be Shen. They only have each other now and they will do a lot of stupid stunt to keep each other happy, because family may thrive on misery but they share the sadness. His brother is sad. His twin, from the womb - they were a single cell and they split into half, there is too much shit shared between the two of them that at this point, it’ll be criminal not to know his dumb brother is moping about the brat leaving and he’ll straight up break down if he’s invited to the wedding.
So the most upfront solution to this current dilemma is to grab the other groom - tick - and declare -
“Oi. We’re not having a wedding now.”
To be fair, Yue Qi had always looked cute and put together and all that mushy, people-being-in-love crap. He gets it. He sees it all the time. It makes him want to crawl into a cave, with Yue Qi, and then die. Preferably together. It’s romantic or whatever.
The Yue Qi of right now - his, he thinks viciously and knows it to be true - his Yue Qi right now had been unceremoniously yanked into a wall, wide eyes searching for a logical answer, while his stupid long arms wind around his shoulders, head already tilting into his space. Shen Jiu grumbles, like it’s an absolute chore to automatically bump his mouth into Yue Qi’s warm mouth, before he pulls back his neck, scowl resuming its place on his face.
“Like I said. No wedding right now.”
Yue Qi asks minimal questions, because he’s been trained to just go along with whatever shit Jiu subjects him to. He only tilts his head to one side, blinks, bangs sliding sideways with the motion.
“But sometime in the future, yes, Xiao Jiu?
He snorts, completely unbecoming of his post now, his post in the future, his post in general.
“Trying to get rid of me already?”
Qi-ge shakes his head. Once. Hair slides from one eye into the other. He smells like he took a nap in freshly laundered shirts among their assorted pillows in one of their rooms. His room. Qi-ge’s room. All the same. Shen Jiu finds his fingers in that mane of wild hair. He pulls, until there is a curtain of dark hair between their mouths.
“Never, Xiao Jiu.”
“Good. We’ll have the ceremony when things settle down. That’ll be for a while at least, so don’t hold your breath,” he speaks, calm, measured, the ruthless tactician of this goddamn household whenever the planning for anything narrows down to him. This is a game they indulge in - indulge one another in, because there are no real stakes, not when he had told this idiot everything that can be told to another until you only see yourself in their eyes.
It’s frightening to trust himself so much to another, to cough up about the strings, the meddling, the irritation and hurt when his twin went through an entire rollercoaster ride of emotions and parsing out his own feelings. They’ve grown apart from one another now, he and A-Yuan, but they’ll always come back to each other, inevitably. But that’s a bond of blood and it is unwavering even with the wearing of years. This - what holds him and Yue Qi together - is a bond of something else entirely, coiling tight and warm underneath his fingertips, zinging to the place beating loudly underneath his ribs, inside his ears - and he does not know what to do with it. He’s seen it with his eyes, this visible bond, the tight golden string from one heart to another - his to Yue Qi’s - when the idiot mentioned marriage, casually, over their joined all-nighter, the third in a row. He’s seen it, he traced it with his own fingers, but to see it with his heart, to taste the badumbadum of senseless flutterings chasing eyes that always chase his - it’s new. It’s frighteningly new, to be cradled where hands had brought down destruction to empires, but they hold him like one would a jewel - precious, delicate, beloved.
“Anything you want, Xiao Jiu,” Qi-ge promises, helplessly but firmly, pitching further into him still, like he is unable to stop falling.
He shoves, putting a physical wedge - his elbow and arm - into the gradual descent. That would have been… unwise. Dangerous. He would have forgotten to say what he wanted to say and would take it all out on this idiot the next time they meet. It’s better to free himself of this obligation, before he implodes in on himself.
“Not everything, clearly.” He huffs, but it is a bait, meant to incite a fight.
Qi-ge watches him, pale eyes softened by disgusting thoughts and feelings, holding him, but at the waist now, broad hands gripping his sides.
“I always strive to perform your whims, no matter how unreasonable, but in regards to A-Yuan -”
“You should have just kept him with everyone instead of letting him take off after Luo Binghe -”
Qi-ge continues speaking, even with the interruption. “ - A-Yuan deserves to know why Master Luo was leaving. And I know you grumble, but sometimes what you want will not be what you deserve or need. Certainly that can be the case for others too, no?”
He rolls his eyes, twisting in the hold. “Yeah, yeah, whatever, clearly you don’t like me all that much.”
Qi-ge seems amused, grip loosening around his waist. He slips a little, before a hand is between his shoulder blades, pressing onto his spine. Flinty eyes gaze into his, suddenly too close, a mischievous twist to a usually demure mouth.
“I do think I like you enough to give you half of my family fortune and my time, Xiao Jiu.”
He rolls his eyes still, determined to win this. “Surely that extends to your heart too, Qi-ge?”
He’s hauled up, the hand on the spine trailing to the back of his neck, holding him steady. If this was anyone else, he’d kill them before they can make a single sound, but this vulnerability is an explicit permission. He is allowing someone he regards highly to see him flailing. Qi-ge literally caught him slipping. This weakness is novel, the feel of it unfamiliar in his limbs, but he soldiers it through, stubborn eyes defiantly staring into the much more amused and fond eyes.
“Nay, Xiao Jiu, how can you wound this old Qi-ge so,” a brief sliver of a smirk, before the gentle smile replaces it. “You already have my heart and more. You need only ask for it.”
He knows what he’s doing, the absolute scumbag. Shen Jiu is too impressed to even call him out for it.
“Huh,” he murmurs, patting Yue Qi once - twice - maybe too many times - on the forearm, the skin warm underneath his touch. “Maybe you do deserve the good news after all.”
Yue Qi laughs, pulling him closer. “I thought the good news was you deciding to marry me still.”
“No, moron, that’s the bad news - the delay,” he admonishes the colossal dumbass, wondering how someone so smart can be so stupid. “I never said anything about not entering us into the marriage registry. Soon.”
Yue Qi freezes so quickly he might as well be glue splatters on skin.
“No,” the other echoes faintly, looking slightly delirious, like he drank something warm and tingly and good. “No you didn’t.”
“Because I know how you’ll react, plus I thought it’d be a good compromise - my family could give a shit on whether I have a ceremony or not, but yours do, so we are registered and legally, y’know, spouses, we just haven’t gotten to the wedding ceremony part yet.” He shrugs, feeling the relief elation joy everything coursing under warm skin, and he’s left with only a fond huff as he’s swept into an enthusiastic kiss, feet coming off the carpeted floor, as Yue Qi grips him, tight - tighter - in his arms, locking Shen Jiu tight beneath his skin.
(“I was thinking,” Yue Qi groans into the table. Shen Jiu isn’t feeling much better - he’s turning nineteen and he’s feeling the bad parts of ninety-seven already.
“Yeah, try not to do that,” he taps around loudly, before his hand lands on a head of hair. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine, Xiao Jiu. But this thought is important.”
“Can it wait after my nap.” It’s his turn to hiss in pain as he tries to shift, to no avail. Everything is dead. He is dying of atrophy, right before his fucking paperwork. Way to go.
“No.”
“Then spit it out, you’re wasting both of our time.”
A tick of the grandfather clock, until his left hand is pulled away from his tangle of limbs, Qi-ge’s callused fingers all but gripping the ring finger.
“Will you marry me, Xiao Jiu? Shen Jiu?”
He pulls back his arm, closes his eyes.
“When I wake up, there better be a ring on this hand,” he says into the air. “And it better be some prized family heirloom, first wife of the oldest son bullshit, or else I’m making you buy me a ten grand engagement ring.”
He would wake up and find the ornate jade ring, a faded but still visible insignia of the Yue clan carved all around the wrap of metal, snug around his ring finger. Qi-ge watches him, hair a wild mess, something chanting mine mine mine mine mine in the depth of his eyes.
“Oi, stupid fiance,” he would say, beckoning only with his eyes and voice. “Come over. You’re sitting too far.”
And Yue Qi would be by his side in an instant, a lost ship honed into a beacon of light.
“Hi. You’re my fiance now.”
“Yeah. And if you play your cards right, husband too. I’m not changing my name to Yue, just so we’re clear.”
“I would never ask you for such a thing, Xiao Jiu. Never.”
“Good. Then on that front, you’re mine, I’m yours, this is a communist society, we all belong to each other.”)
Upon the grove of bamboos that some crafty and genuinely bored busybodies have tampered with and ingeniously grew, sits a person. It is a silhouette of utter elegance, cropped hair fluttering in summer breeze, crooked hands curving around a guqin, picking at notes absently. The leaves chorus back an answering cry and the person smiles, teeth beaming bright and shiny in the nice shadow offered by the tall stalks.
Another is hiking up stone steps, winding to an estate high in an unheard of mountain. It's as if this mountain doesn't exist, and this young fool is truly deserting everything he's known in modern luxuries to pursue a sheep farming lifestyle. But no, there is a mountain, and there are familiar stone steps, and the young man puts one foot in front of the other, leisurely, taking his time.
There is an undercurrent - a red stream - that spills between two. It glows, pulsates, hums. Even with eyes closed, they can find each other.
The bamboos sing, loudly and vibrantly, when he who sits beneath the bamboo grove hums, surprised and pleased, at the wandering youth, who approaches him from behind, softly whispering into his ear.
"You're late," the face of a master of Qing Jing abode chides gently, rising to gaze up at the youth. "You've grown," his eyes squeeze into gentle crescents.
"Told you I'd come back," the boy who looks to be a shadow of an unhappy child returns as a fulfilled, learned man. "Can't break your heart like that with empty promises."
Qing Jing's Shen Yuan taps him on the arm sharply, eyebrows raised. "You're asking to get smacked, is that what this is? You want to start this right now?"
Immediately, the youth simpers down into a puppy, winding himself around Shen Yuan, moaning about the long journey and how tired he is, strong everything holding him down and to him.
"Aiya, what a clingy kid," Shen Yuan says, at zero attempt to untangle himself. "Who raised you like this?" He asks, like he hasn't raised him like this.
"Dunno," is the cheeky answer, a grin into his neck. "Who did, I do wonder."
"I wasn't joking about going. I can and will."
"Noo, gege, stay here with me, I don't wanna go in just yet."
This had always been -
A vow, a promise, the truth
"I have many choices and made a lot of mistakes in my life, Luo Binghe, but regardless of all the mishaps we put each other through and what choices we made, I will always choose you in the end."