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It’s his birthday.
Yang Yixuan will not say this however, because it doesn’t matter. He hasn’t celebrated his birthday once since the attack on Jinlan and really he didn’t need to. He joined Bai Zhan Peak to learn to fight and protect people - not to replace the family lost in the chaos of death and disease. Birthdays no longer mattered, just a date he vaguely recalled now and then. A mark on a mental number which meant very little when you’re given a wooden sword and orders to try and survive.
So birthdays held little significance to him. He didn’t require gifts or special attention - it would just remind him of a mother he never knew or a father who swore he’d come back for him once he got help. Of a little boy who couldn’t protect himself, who was weak.
Not anymore.
But the event still existed, and he realized it was his birthday only when he raised his sword at the right time. Faster, just for a split second, than he was yesterday. Catching Liu Qingge’s blade with a shower of sparks and a painful echo of force tearing through his body. The concussion of meeting strengths sending his heels inches into the dirt as he held back his master’s attack. Flashing his teeth with a sound of anger, pushing against his master’s sword like trying to battle a hurricane.
“Again.” Liu Qingge’s voice is low and calm but there’s a new frown in his eyes. Purple irises look black in the shadow of fallen hair from their skirmish. The polished skin actually flushed with color as Yang Yixuan’s own gaze swells with the sight of this man.
“Yes Shizun.” He responds and swings back, disengaging and leaping as far as his legs can carry while Liu Qingge bursts forward with speed unmatched. The tip of his sword aimed for Yang Yixuan’s heart.
He can have it. He thinks, mouth twitching to smile before twisting with the energy of his yell. Bringing his own weapon down to clatter violently with lightning and scorched wind. The air hot between them and Yang Yixuan’s shoulder screams at the strength required to fend off his master.
It’s his birthday.
Funny thing to realize now as he kicks into Liu Qingge’s arm, finding the bend of an elbow and able to force his stance low. Dropping like rain to the earth and charging forward once more. Metal sliding sharp and brilliant between them, turning his back to his master who sneers at the insult! Constantly yelling at his single disciple to never show your back to an enemy! To protect his life and the honor of Bai Zhan by not dying miserable and stupid in the mud!
“Shizun!” He laughs and chokes as the pommel of Cheng Luan collides with the base of his neck. Sending him flying across the courtyard with blood in his mouth and body smacking into a dense wood post.
He chokes, swinging back and prying himself from the indent in the wood moments before the silver blade swings through the post like air. The severed pieces begin to fall and he lets loose an embarrassing sound as he runs back. His own sword meeting with Cheng Luan at his ankles and storming up the hefty blade to leap over his master’s shoulder.
“Shizun am I doing well??"
“If you can speak you’re not giving your all!” Liu Qingge barks back, diving forward and it’s so like his master to not be careful of potentially wounding his disciple. The early years of training consisted of his bruised body shipped between Mu Qingfang’s care and sitting at Liu Qingge’s side as he recovered from his own injuries. Absorbing what he could from the doctor to apply to his stubborn Shizun who would never stop. Day after day returning home from another failed battle. Leaning bloodied and furious against his sword as he instructed Yang Yixuan - taking only enough time to rest before going once more to fight within a demon’s lair.
All is different now.
Except for Liu Qingge’s willingness to hurt him. The edge of Cheng Luan catching him just under the ribs, shredding the fabric of his shirt and biting sharp against the flesh of his side.
When he was young he used to curse and spit when hurt. Rushing brainless and tactless at his enemy which was his fellow Bai Zhan trainees or his Shizun. Trying to use brute force or swinging fists in desperate rage to win. Half the time he ended up battered and sent to his room for causing trouble. Liu Qingge’s angry voice echoing through his singing skull.
Do better or leave.
Not the most inspirational, his Shizun. At least not with words. But every morning he’d wake, sore and trying not to sob until his door would open, the imposing figure of his master standing in the morning light with a small meal and medicine tossed to his feet. Ordering him to eat and apply what he needed and join him on the training grounds - a look of expectation in his cold features.
As a child his chest swelled for how cool Liu Qingge was. How he admired and longed to be like him, wanting that same air of control. Of noble presence where words were cheap and only actions mattered.
Now of course, things were different. Had been for a while.
He no longer wants to just be like Liu Qingge...
Now when Cheng Luan cuts into his skin Yang Yixuan lets out a sound he probably shouldn’t. Is filled with an emotion and heat that isn’t right as he leans into the blade and grabs it by the crossguard to Liu Qingge’s violet surprise. His master’s teeth peeking from parted lips and he NEARLY manages to pull the weapon away before a fist comes to bury itself with a starburst of pain across his skull. Eyes swimming in color as another strike sends him to the ground, coughing and scrambling to rise. A heel kicking his tailbone to flip him over onto this back.
He lands in the dirt, the sun low on the horizon so his vision is blurred orange and creeping blue. The silhouette of his Shizun and the silver blade coming into focus as his chest gives a sharp cry at the weight of a knee settling there. The metal edge resting against his cheek is almost comforting with it’s cool temperature.
“What the hell was that?” Liu Qingge is unhappy, snatching away Yang Yixuan’s weapon from the earth beside him. Sheathing it in his own scabbard like a punishment for such reckless behavior.
In truth, it was funny that the sword which chose Yang Yixuan was also the same shape as Cheng Luan. The weapon never once complained when Liu Qingge took it away and even fit perfectly in his master’s scabbard - the sight something too intimate for Yang Yixuan to bear sometimes.
“Improvisation?” He says and cries when his Shizun thwaps him on the skull with bent knuckles, a disappointed look in his eyes. “My apologies Shizun! I won’t do it again.”
“Better not.” Liu Qingge’s lip curls in distaste. “If you die that’s how many years of my life wasted?”
Yang Yixuan can’t help but smile, then a chuckle trips out of his broad chest and he wonders if Liu Qingge can feel it where his knee keeps him pinned.
“I lost again.” He frowns, though not surprised. He hopes he always loses - winning would set things into motion he’d never want.
Above him his Shizun is lit by the setting sun. Resplendent and powerful, an untouchable immortal of honor and grace which doesn’t exist easily in this world. Something for Yang Yixuan to aspire towards - someone to desire as the cool evening breeze rustles the loose hair he managed to spill from the neat ponytail in their fight. Black strands tickling his master’s cheek and the regal bridge of his nose as Liu Qingge watches him with curiosity and stillness unmatched by even ancient mountains.
Yang Yixuan sometimes wishes the Liu elder brother would wear a veil like his sister - it would spare him these troubling moments when simply being alive to witness Liu Qingge in existence leaves him awed and sinking into the earth. Because what else is there to see in this world once you’ve watched the sun setting in Liu Qingge’s eyes? What more matters?
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing Shizun,” He smiles and his shoulder is punched in return, that same punishing hand moving to the wound at his side. Examining the shallow cut between the sliced black fabric of his robes, prodding none too kindly and eliciting a sharp noise from Yang Yixuan’s tense mouth. “Shizun!”
“Shut up.” Liu Qingge shakes his head, disappointed once more, and Yang Yixuan wishes that the weight of his master’s leg wasn’t positioned to rest down the middle of his body. The curve of an ankle in a most intimate place where he’s begun to stir even at Liu Qingge’s meanness. “Tell me the truth or you’ll be running the obstacle course tomorrow until you forget how to speak.”
“Shizun,” He whines and flinches when Cheng Luan is pulled back up to his throat and hands raise automatically in surrender. “It’s my birthday today.” He says, like it’s something that might matter when even the words sound silly and false.
“Your birthday?” Liu Qingge echoes, forgetting to lower his weapon as he watches the man with a strange look in his eyes. “You don’t know your birthday.”
“Of course I know my birthday!” He laughed and perhaps imagined that Liu Qingge’s face might have appeared hurt for a moment. There was a better chance that a gnat flew too close to his eye, or perhaps he’s annoyed at him?
“You’ve never said.”
“No.” Agrees readily and without issue.
He thinks he sees a question forming on his master’s lips but it dies just as quickly. Leaving them silent and strange in their current position for long enough that Yang Yixuan thinks he’s in trouble.
“What do you want?” Now it’s his turn to be confused, staring up at Liu Qingge, the world behind him a river of gold and purple overtaking the skyline. The stars which begin to puncture the darkness above mere candles in comparison to the shine of Liu Qingge’s eyes.
“Shizun?”
“For your birthday.”
He swallows hard at the clear tone of Liu Qingge’s voice, those words are something he’s not heard for a long time and should no longer matter.
I know what I want, but you’ll never…
He wants to decline, or think of something which he doesn’t need. Something to satisfy his master’s request and move them past this point. Hope it never comes up again.
There’s nothing he wants more than just to stay at Liu Qingge’s side, forever. To never be expected to defeat him in battle, to never steal the title of Peak Lord as he’s expected. He wants to sleep every night knowing Liu Qingge will always wake before him - for his master to be the one to swing open his door each morning framed by a rising sun. Barking orders to rise, to get dressed, to go train. To stand just behind him for the rest of his life, that would be enough.
“Well, speak up,” Liu Qingge huffs, still kneeling on Yang Yixuan’s chest with his sword against his pulse. Something so horrifying in appearance but Yang Yixuan has grown used to over the years he could laugh at their positions. It was an honor, actually. Maybe he can even die at Liu Qingge’s side too. “Yixuan!”
“Can I kiss you?” The words come out before he can bite them down, swallow them back up and never share his shame with this man.
Oh no what did he just do...
The reaction is instant. The flood of red across his master’s face, the smallest tremor in the hand holding Cheng Luan too close - the way violet eyes disappear in the swell of pupils wracked with horror at such a request.
“You dare-“
His pulse speeds, fear slipping through his veins like poison, and before Liu Qingge can throw him from the sect Yang Yixuan speaks quickly.
“I’m joking Shizun!” He says, forcing a laugh and it hurts to pull the sound from his throat. “I’m sorry I’m joking please do not be mad!”
Cheng Luan sheathes itself into the earth beside Yang Yixuan’s hair, brings him tense and still and mouth dry as Liu Qingge quakes with a new breed of anger above. The motion of his body felt down to Yang Yixuan’s bones like a storm sinking into a rooftop.
“You’re saying you lied?”
Uhoh.
“No Shizun!”
“Then which is it Yixuan?! Are you a liar or a deviant?”
He wants to swallow his tongue instead of answer, both such terrible choices!
He’s not a liar, but is he a deviant? Bai Zhan Peak, Liu Qingge, taught him to be forthright. So. Was loving someone a deviation? Was it because he was a man, a disciple? Or was he simply not good enough to ask for such a thing...
Yang Yixuan’s head spun and Liu Qingge waited for his answer, still as beautiful as ever.
“I’m not a liar.” He said, exhausted and shaken by the ordeal, but his pride came through. That stubborn flame nurtured by the very man looking at him now with suspicion and disbelief. “I just want to kiss you.”
“You insolent,” Liu Qingge trails off, expression trying to puzzle something out as he remains perched on Yang Yixuan’s chest. Upset but seemingly unwilling to give up his ground. “You really think-“
“No.” Interrupts and were it any other time he’s sure he would be immediately punished for it. “No I don’t, and that’s why I never would have asked, otherwise.” His guilt shifts, wishing he could have just kept his mouth shut! Hasn’t he for the years since he hit puberty?! Since he realized what it was he wanted of his Shizun?! Stupid, stupid boy, he knows. But he thought he could just stay silent and never ruin this! “I’m sorry Shizun, please forget what this one said and I’ll-“
“Fine.”
He might have left a crater in the earth from how hard his head snapped back against that word. A single word with a greater attack than any Yang Yixuan has taken before.
“What?”
“I won’t repeat myself. You did well today, if this is what you want-“
The word is spinning, revolving around the look in Liu Qingge’s eyes. The stiff, stern face of his determination as his throat bobs with a shallow swallow. The tension in his face was something Yang Yixuan has never seen before and couldn’t begin to explain what it was.
But he said yes, didn’t he?
Yang Yixuan’s hand moves to rest against the knee on his chest, looking apologetic as he implies with a gentle nudge a request to be freed. This takes the longest, being let up as Liu Qingge shifts back, his body kneeling in the earth before where Yang Yixuan is still spread in defeat, his Shizun at his side watching - not him exactly - but the space just past his shoulder.
Never in all his fantasies would he imagine his master agreeing! Why was he agreeing - was this a trick? A test? If he tried to kiss him would he be exiled?! Should be back out!?
“Yixuan.” A growl, low and angry, but the look in Liu Qingge’s eyes is so strange. Watching him with a wide stare that fails to be as intimidating as the many, many angry faces of his master. He almost looks - could it be possible - that his Shizun is shy ?! “You’re wasting my time and my patience is not-“
It doesn’t go as he imagined it would.
Because of course he imagined it - isn’t he warm blooded? A young man with the most beautiful master before him every day? He imagined it happening years from now after finally proving himself. Imagined Liu Qingge parting lips sweetly beneath his own. The strength of his teacher’s hands at his arms reduced to a gentle hold and kissing him tenderly beneath some affair of his achievements which earned him this pleasure.
This was not how he imagined it.
This was better.
This was Yang Yixuan surging forward before Liu Qingge could change his mind. Taking his mouth against his too rough with young enthusiasm. Panicking at the first touch of lips and his master retreats just enough, forcing Yang Yixuan to pull his hand around. Cupping the back of his skull, fingers tangling in the weight of the regal ponytail to pull him back in - swallowing the sound his teacher makes with a low smile.
His chest floods in heat, feeling Liu Qingge’s mouth part with surprise, resting soft against his own as he did little to motivate such an action. Drawing in the man’s lips by his own, feeling the tension of their shape pressed against his. The sharp breath when he touches his tongue curiously to pale teeth. Almost expecting his Shizun to bite down but instead is rewarded with a bright gasp and Liu Qingge’s fist takes hold of his robe collar. Not quite pushing him back or closer, just holding him like a leash while Yang Yixuan doesn’t wait to be told to stop.
The world could stop at the shy touch of Liu Qingge’s tongue against his. Curious and strange, skull swimming as he presses closer. Trapping Liu Qingge’s hand between their chests as he hums against the other’s lips. Stroking that unsure mouth with his own and trying not to open his eyes in fear of this being a dream. Shattering upon waking.
“Yixuan,” Liu Qingge says his name between their tongues, teeth clacking when he does. A tension at his chest where that fist twists dangerous and threatening.
“I’ll stop Shizun,” He whispers in return, kissing him still with Bai Zhan vigor. Loud and terrible as all fear of consequence was thrown out the window the moment Liu Qingge said yes. “Just tell me to.”
It’s more than a kiss, he knows. But Liu Qingge is strong enough to break free and yet he still holds onto Yang Yixuan’s shirt. Lets himself be pushed to dark earth and lets his body tremble uncertain and yet angry against his exploring disciple. Kissed breathless and heavy until Yang Yixuan is certain he’s bruised himself on his master’s teeth - and is thrilled with the thought.
When he feels Liu Qingge’s strong thighs brush his ribs, he can’t help but groan. Face slipping down to the exposed column of his master’s throat. Finding the pulse and kissing that speeding river beneath hot skin. Tasting sweat and sweetness and feeling Liu Qingge’s voice against his lips when he says
“That’s not a kiss!” And knees squeeze on either side of him, bruising and making it difficult to breathe, but not yet kicking him off.
“Sure it is Shizun.” He replies, kissing gently once more. Finding the edge of his master’s chin only to scrap teeth too rough along the curve of his jaw. Unable to resist and rewarded by the tension beneath him.
He returns to his mouth, missing the taste, the cut of teeth. How Liu Qingge seems too stunned to fight him off, but perfectly fine having his tongue sucked down by his disciple. Yang Yixuan’s hand still cradles the back of his skull, tilting him back to make it more comfortable when pressing down into him. Holding him closer than he ever thought possible.
If he dies now, that would be fine.
“Don’t.”
Liu Qingge speaks low against his mouth and Yang Yixuan fears he said so out loud. But realizes swiftly it’s a protest to the weight on his master’s body. Having gone too far in his daze.
“Shizun,” He whines like a dog begging at the door of his master but begins to retreat. Certain, for just a moment, that Liu Qingge’s lips chase after his for a brief moment - but the sight is gone and slowly replaced with his master. Glowering up at him as Yang Yixuan fully withdraws. Chest heaving, mouth numb, and more joy in his chest than he thinks humans were supposed to hold.
He licks his lip and finds it sore, prods it with a finger and doesn’t dare look just yet at Liu Qingge. Almost afraid of being met with anger or horror at what he permitted his disciple to do to him.
If it were possible, maybe he did it well enough to be allowed to do it again?
“Yixuan,” Liu Qingge’s voice is, gods help him, rough. He turns to find him, forgetting his fears, and is left shaken by the raw shape of his Shizun’s mouth. Pink and panting, trying to catch his breath from the red dusting his face. Those eyes bright and clear in the late evening light - his ponytail almost tugged loose from Yang Yixuan’s rough hands.
Stomach churns with something that guilt or fear cannot touch and he knows he was hard against his master’s hip at some point - but prays Liu Qingge will be noble enough not to be upset about it.
“Yes, Shizun?” He asks, wishing he could return to that mouth. Realizing very quickly that one kiss would not be enough as he thought before.
“Your injury.”
He looks down, his wound bloody but nothing serious. Hardly even felt in this haze of giddy delight and he just hiccups a smile back towards his master. Giving a loose shrug as he feels his spirit glow beneath his skin.
“It’s perfectly fine Shizun.” He answers, and thinks - did Liu Qingge stop him from moving on top because of his injury? Was his master so kind?? Can he fall in love two times with the same man?
“Good.” Liu Qingge clears his throat and then reaches up. Undoing his hair in full so the weight falls down his pristine shoulders - his robes mostly still intact as Yang Yixuan hadn’t dared let hands travel freely over that sacred body. And could anything be more beautiful than Liu Qingge, lips bitten and hair wild around his shoulders? Begging to be wrapped around a fist and held...
“Shizun, tha-“
“Obstacle course.”
He stares dumbly.
“What?”
He suddenly has a dark feeling looming over him, Liu Qingge’s once gentle stare now a smoldering fire of his power.
“Obstacle course, for a pathetic attempt to disarm me in our spar. Now.”
“Shizun!”
“If you’re well enough to molest your teacher you’re well enough to run the course one hundred times.”
“But Shizun I—“
“Make it two hundred times for insubordination!”
Yang Yixuan cries, pulling himself up and giving an awkward bow as his body battles whiplash. Singing in the taste of his teacher’s lips and the threat from his glare leaving him cold.
“Yes Shizun!” He calls out with a crack in his voice, narrowly dodging the swing of Cheng Luan at his feet as punishment for not moving fast enough. “I’m going!”
“Three hundred!”
Maybe birthdays aren't so terrible, Yang Yixuan thinks, both sour and soaring, racing to the course before his teacher discovers the hickey he left on his neck and actually does exile him for his crimes.