Chapter Text
When Luo Binghe returned to his palace, he returned to the sight of a massacre.
His palace was burning all around him.
Flowers from his harem were made into flowers of an entirely different sort. Bodies were everywhere, cut up and gored, their tender insides resembling a garden.
Luo Binghe walked carefully through the halls, Xin Mo’s blade interested in the bloodlust in the air.
The massacre grew more grotesque the further into his palace he went. Not a soul was spared. Not a wife, not a concubine, not even a servant.
At the center of this storm was Ning Yingying, her pale robes entirely drenched in blood.
“Yingying,” said Luo Binghe. “You’re suffering from a qi deviation.”
This was his first wife, his childhood sweetheart. The reason he had survived on Qing Jing Peak.
Something must have happened, something must have been done to her.
“You,” Ning Yingying said, her voice thick and angry. “Why? Why? Why?”
Luo Binghe waded closer to her, through the violent waves of qi. He knew how something like this would go. He would dual cultivate with his wife. Things would return to normal. Ning Yingying would feel so bad once she gained clarity.
Fire burned all around them.
“Yingying,” said Luo Binghe, putting his arms around his first wife. “What happened when I was gone?”
Ning Yingying’s eyes filled with tears. “Shizun…”
Any thought of fixing things through dual cultivation was lost then.
“What happened to Shizun?” asked Luo Binghe.
Fury overtook Ning Yingying then. She broke free of his loose hold, slapping his arms, the touch having offended her. Laughter bubbled its way out of Ning Yingying’s throat. “You don’t have the right to call him that,” she said. Then, more quietly, “He’s gone.”
Ning Yingying’s face was streaked with tears and ashes. Blood dripped from her nose.
Luo Binghe’s heart thudded loudly in his chest. Gone? He thought. Where could he have gone in that state…?
Luo Binghe walked to his bed chambers—those quarters he had brought Shen Qingqiu to, to rest, to call his own.
There, carefully laid out on the large bed, was Shen Qingqiu.
He looked as though he was sleeping, if one could ignore the blood that stained his clothing. Liu Mingyan was here as well, her head separated from the rest of her, her delicate veil now dyed a dark red. The air smelled thickly of violence.
Luo Binghe, emperor of the three realms, felt his legs grow weak.
With several uneven steps, Luo Binghe came upon his bed. He gathered Shen Qingqiu’s cold body in his arms, one large hand smoothing down his hair. There was so much blood. There was simply too much blood.
Luo Binghe tore his arms open and fed his blood to Shen Qingqiu.
But it was far too late.
These wounds had been fatal. Shen Qingqiu died so quickly. He was so cold. Why was he so cold?
“Shizun…” Luo Binghe said faintly. “How… Why…” He swallowed thickly, tears rolling down his cheeks. “This disciple has failed you again.”
Blood trailed down Shen Qingqiu’s chin—his own blood and Luo Binghe’s, intertwined again in a sick way.
Luo Binghe heard the footsteps leading up to him. He heard a sword unsheathe.
When Ning Yingying stabbed him, he didn’t even fight back.
Ning Yingying stabbed him again and again and again, her face cold and empty.
Luo Binghe died, but not for a while, holding onto Shen Qingqiu’s corpse like it was the most precious thing in the world.
If we meet again in the next life, thought Luo Binghe, I will make everything up to you!
*
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That was then.
This is now.
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Luo Binghe returns to his palace, an entire field of treasure flowers tucked neatly away into a qiankun pouch, all in order to help restore Xiao Jiu’s heath.
Luo Binghe returns to his palace, only to find his Shizun missing.
But there are no bodies. No grand massacre.
Shizun disappeared.
Like he had never been here at all.
And something inside of Luo Binghe cracks.
*
Where is he where is he where is he where is he where is he where is he where is he where is he where is he where is he where is he where is he where is he where is he where is he where is he where is he where is he where is he where is he where is he where is he where is he
Has he died again, leaving Luo Binghe all alone?
*
Luo Binghe goes to Cang Qiong Mountain sect. Alone.
He is unaware of how he looks. His hair is in disarray. So are his robes. His eyes are bloodshot. There is blood beneath his nails, his own blood, though he doesn’t know it yet.
He wants to go back to Qing Jing Peak, wants to prepare a cup of tea and present it to Shizun.
(—the feel of hot tea rolling down his cheeks, so much like tears.)
He wants to go back, before everything had happened. He wants to ask why Shen Qingqiu had hated him so much. Wants to ask if things could have been different.
But, when he arrives at Cang Qiong Mountain sect, Luo Binghe is surrounded by light and noise.
Luo Binghe’s presence at the foot of the Tian Gong mountains is now known by the whole sect.
*
Liu Qingge stands up quickly, his hand on Cheng Luan’s hilt. He looks at Shen Qingqiu, then Ning Yingying. “Stay here,” he says. “I’ll go see what it is.”
This little Shen Qingqiu scowls fiercely and then turns his head away, nose upturned. It’s almost cute.
Ning Yingying’s eyes are wide. She must realize what this means. “Be careful, Liu-shishu.”
Liu Qingge nods. But he won’t be careful. He’s been waiting so long to fight Luo Binghe, to get some payback for all that he’s done to Shen Qingqiu. To beat him to a bloody pulp.
That demon thought Shen Qingqiu was a harsh teacher? thought Liu Qingge. I’ll show him what it would be like to be a disciple on Bai Zhan Peak.
Luo Binghe is there when Liu Qingge arrives. “Liu-shishu,” says Luo Binghe, his voice hoarse. Cracking. He looks unwell.
“Beast,” said Liu Qingge in turn.
Luo Binghe lets out a laugh that sounds more like a sob. “Have you taken Shizun from me?”
Liu Qingge sees red. He calms himself as best as he can. He could not afford to qi deviate now. Look what happened the last time he qi deviated.
“Taken?” says Liu Qingge. “You make it sound like he belongs to you.”
Luo Binghe shakes his head. All of him is trembling, like a man dying of thirst. “Is he here…?” he asks. “Is he happy?”
Liu Qingge doesn’t like the first question. He’s much more okay with the second question.
Still, Liu Qingge promised himself for years and years that he would give Luo Binghe a solid trashing. Even if Luo Binghe looks different now, the satisfaction would be the same.
Liu Qingge draws Cheng Luan from its sheath and leaps forwards. He fights Luo Binghe––as he has wanted to for years now. Decades. Centuries. When he had been a spirit, a wandering soul, disconnected from the world and yet a witness to it all, he had been unable to do anything to save Shen Qingqiu.
Liu Qingge could only watch as terrible things happened. Until Shen Qingqiu died. Miserable. Broken. And yet still protective of those he loved.
(When Liu Qingge woke, as a screaming, unconsolable baby, he woke without knowing the taste of Meng Po’s soup. He had been a difficult child, but his parents were endlessly patient with him.
Love.
Love.
Fucking love. Why was it so painful? To see how Shen Qingqiu loved Ning Yingying, even after she publicly decried him––following Shen Qingqiu’s own orders. To see how Shen Qingqiu loved Yue Qingyuan, bending, then breaking.
To see that Shen Qingqiu had always tried so hard for Cang Qiong Mountain sect. To see how Shen Qingqiu hid his care.
Liu Qingge felt part of Shen Qingqiu’s care once. When Shen Qingqiu cried over his corpse. The years before, when they were both disciples. But Liu Qingge had been fucking stupid. And things went so fucking bad.)
Luo Binghe meets him blow for blow with a sword that was distinctly not Xin Mo. He grits his teeth, hissing quietly in pain.
Liu Qingge would make it hurt.
Spiteful, ungrateful disciple, he thought. How could you be so unfilial?
Finally, Liu Qingge cast away Luo Binghe’s sword, flinging it away harmlessly. And Liu Qingge sheathes Cheng Luan.
“This,” says Liu Qingge, “is what you needed all those years ago.”
Liu Qingge punches the face of a stranger but is no less pleased at the solid crack he feels.
Luo Binghe falls pitifully against the ground. He pushes himself up, rolling aside to dodge Liu Qingge’s kick. He crawls against the ground, like a worm, fingers itching for his sword.
Liu Qingge steps onto Luo Binghe’s hand and doesn’t let up. “Why have you come here?” Liu Qingge demands.
Luo Binghe looks up at him, absolutely wretched. “Is Shen Jiu safe?” he asks, so fucking pitiful. “Is he here?”
Liu Qingge almost punches him again.
But Liu Qingge isn’t alone anymore.
He has an audience––all of the acting Peak Lords. And one trembling Shen Qingqiu.
(Why had Ning Yingying allowed Shen Qingqiu here? thinks Liu Qingge at first.
Ning Yingying meets his gaze and shakes her head slightly.
Ah. Right. They wouldn’t restrict Shen Qingqiu’s movement in any way. So, Shen Qingqiu had wanted to come here.)
Shen Qingqiu looks upset, his eyes like glass. He breaks away from Ning Yingying at once and runs to Liu Qingge.
“Stop,” says Shen Qingqiu, his small voice sounding so unlike the hissy shixiong Liu Qingge once knew and clumsily, far too fucking clumsily, admired.
Liu Qingge steps off of Luo Binghe’s hand. He draws Cheng Luan and tries to hand it to Shen Qingqiu, hilt first.
But Shen Qingqiu shies away from Cheng Luan too. He shakes his head. “Don’t…” he says. “Don’t do this, Liu-shidi.”
Liu Qingge doesn’t understand, but he wants to do as Shen Qingqiu says. So he waits.
“You can get up, can’t you?” says Shen Qingqiu, a little bit like that hissy little alley cat down the mountain.
Luo Binghe listens to Shen Qingqiu too, rising to his feet. Liu Qingge doesn’t trust him, cannot trust him, and waits for Shen Qingqiu’s orders to change or for Luo Binghe to betray them once again.
Blood drips from Luo Binghe’s nose, down his lip, down his chin. Already, a bruise is forming around his eye. It wouldn’t be there forever, but some part of Liu Qingge (who is he kidding, all of Liu Qingge) is proud of the proof.
Then Shen Qingqiu kneels, pressing his forehead to the ground.
Both Liu Qingge and Luo Binghe all but throw themselves forwards to prevent Shen Qingqiu from dirtying his forehead or his robes.
“Whatever you do,” Shen Qingqiu says tightly, “don’t make Cang Qiong Mountain sect suffer for my mistakes again.”
Liu Qingge’s heart breaks all over again. “Shen-shixiong…”
“Shizun,” says Luo Binghe at the same time. He reaches out but hesitates, not quite touching Shen Qingqiu. “You… I will not do anything to Cang Qiong Mountain sect. This one… wanted to see you safe. When I returned to the palace, you weren’t there…” Then Luo Binghe reaches for a qiankun pouch.
This makes Liu Qingge on edge once again, ready for any trick the demon might be hiding.
But the qiankun pouch is filled with treasure flowers, such rare flowers that would help improve Shen Qingqiu’s body. Liu Qingge would recognize them anywhere. Mu Qingfang had carefully explained what they looked like, what their benefits might be, and where to find them.
Liu Qingge had failed to retrieve many of the White Lotus Teardrops, but apparently Luo Binghe had.
Liu Qingge doesn’t understand.
To him, it had been so simple.
“Shen-shixiong…” Liu Qingge says again, hoping that Shen Qingqiu will tell him what he wants now. He did not want to contribute to another misunderstanding. Never again.
Yue Qingyuan breaks free from the other Peak Lords and approaches. Carefully, he kneels, at Shen Qingqiu’s side, collecting him from the floor and helping him to stand.
(In the moment, Liu Qingge is jealous.
Jealous that Yue Qingyuan is allowed to touch Shen Qingqiu in this way. Comforting. Familiar.
But Liu Qingge takes a step back. What is important is that Shen Qingqiu feels comforted, feels that familiarity. What is important is that Shen Qingqiu gets what he wants.)
“I don’t understand,” says Shen Jiu, sounding absolutely wretched. “Didn’t you come here to take me back?”
Luo Binghe, equally wretched, hesitates. “I won’t destroy Cang Qiong Mountain sect,” he says. “I swear it. I won’t touch them. I won’t touch you. I just…” His throat bobs.
Liu Qingge wants to punch Luo Binghe again and then himself for thinking that this sight was even a little pitiful.
“Then why did you come?” demands Shen Qingqiu. His little yellow slippers are stained now. Dirtied. “Why come back?”
“I wanted to see if you were alive, Shizun,” said Luo Binghe. “I wanted to see you okay. This foolish disciple… has wronged Shizun many times. By keeping my Shizun in my palace when I knew Cang Qiong Mountain sect rose up from its own ashes was selfish. Shizun… always so elegant and perfect on Qing Jing Peak. This unfilial disciple went too far.”
So he knew.
He knew.
But how do you begin to repair what you have done when it went to that extent? Liu Qingge did not know.
Shen Qingqiu nods shakily. He looks at Liu Qingge. “You can’t hurt him again, shidi.”
Liu Qingge nods shallowly, privately disappointed.
There is no great battle. No great redemption for anyone.
But this is what Shen Qingqiu wants.
All he wants is peace.
(And, Liu Qingge notices, some part of Shen Qingqiu had grown fond of Luo Binghe. Terribly fond. Protective. And Liu Qingge hates this too.)
Mu Qingfang treats Shen Qingqiu’s body as best as he can, focusing almost entirely on ensuring that Shen Qingqiu could live out his natural lifespan peacefully, without any undue pain.
It is difficult for the Peak Lords to learn that Shen Qingqiu did not want to stand beside them. It is difficult, but perhaps understandable. This Shen Qingqiu, so hurt by this lifetime and the lifetime before this one, did not want to reach for immortality.
It is also difficult for the Peak Lords to learn that Shen Qingqiu had no mind to ban Luo Binghe from their sect.
Painfully, the Peak Lords watch as Luo Binghe comes to the base of their sect once a month to sweep Shen Qingqiu away from them.
Courting. It appears that the two are courting.
(At least, the Peak Lords breathe a collective sigh of relief, that Shen Qingqiu had someone always standing as a chaperone. Mostly Liu Qingge or Yue Qingyuan.
If Ning Yingying is given the luxury of acting as chaperone, she spends much of this time glaring daggers at Luo Binghe, as she should.)
It is a soft innocent thing for two who had been so hurt and inflicted such hurt.
In this lifetime, Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu held hands once before they had to part once more.
*
All things must come to an end.
Shen Qingqiu passes away in his sleep, surrounded by people who cared for him.
Soon after, Luo Binghe passes away as well.
*
When things ends, new things have a chance to begin and flourish.
In every lifetime, Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe would find one another.
In every lifetime, those that Shen Qingqiu loved would find him too––Ning Yingying, Yue Qingyuan, Liu Qingge, all of the Peak Lords, in their own way, the women of the brothel, perhaps looking differently, perhaps having been named differently.
In every lifetime, Shen Qingqiu’s life would be filled with love.
In every lifetime, in any lifetime.
Something within them would recognize the other. Something within them would feel for the other. They would know all the pieces of each other, no matter how small.
If Shen Qingqiu were a White Lotus Teardrop flower and Luo Binghe were a Black Moon Python Rhinoceros, the flower would go uneaten, untouched, protected from everything. And the flower itself would reach out to the Black Moon Python Rhinoceros, in order to heal its wounds.
And, for a time, there would be such joy.
This is now, and forevermore.
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