Chapter Text
Shen Qingqiu’s first few courting gifts to Liu Qingge were a success, but part of him feared that was only beginner's luck. After the sword tassel and talismans, he spent hours searching Qing Jing Peak for anything else he could gift the Bai Zhan War God.
The library had many books on demonic beasts, but he knew Liu Qingge wouldn’t be all that interested in reading any. He learned most of his knowledge through experience and adapted quickly during a fight.
Knowing about a beast in advance may be helpful, but it was doubtful he’d actually retain the knowledge or be able to recall it during a fight.
Aside from literature, Qing Jing Peak was rich in the arts. Perfect for a lofty scholar, but not a muscle-brained War God.
Shen Qingqiu hummed, the tip of his quill leaving ink blots on the page as he pondered his options, coming up with a list of ideas.
Cang Qiong Mountain Sect sat at the top of the cultivation world. If he wanted the best, he could only get it here. Huan Hua Palace had gaudy riches—gold-encrusted hallways and glimmering jewels embedded in the walls—but Cang Qiong had skill.
Cang Qiong Mountain Sect had talent, each peak lord a master of their craft.
So which one would benefit him?
What did a War God care about except his sword and—
Shen Qingqiu dropped his quill and shot to his feet.
It was obvious where he needed to go.
The flight to Wan Jian Peak wasn’t long, but Shen Qingqiu still felt sweaty and out of breath as he landed near the forge, the air surrounding the area acrid from smoke. It was always warm on the sword master peak; even in the dead of winter, snowflakes melted as soon as they touched the ground.
He pulled out his fan, refreshing himself with a few bursts of air, and then held his head high, marching into the forge—knowing outside of missions and meetings, that’s where the Wan Jian Peak Lord would most likely be found.
Sure enough, he found Wei Qingwei sitting near the flames, seemingly unbothered by their heat, and sharpening a blade with a red-tinted stone, a pile of unfinished swords sitting next to him.
It took him a moment to notice his guest, as transfixed as he was with the blade, and he jumped when Shen Qingqiu cleared his throat.
“Ah,” he turned, setting the sword to the side. “Shen-shixiong? What a surprise.”
He eyed Shen Qingqiu suspiciously, unsubtly picking the sword back up, even if he attempted to be casual about it.
“I’m not here to socialize. This master has a demand.”
“One rank above me and you have the gall to think it entitles you to show up and start making demands?” Wei Qingwei sounded annoyed, though he still set the sword back down, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair, looking at Shen Qingqiu as if sizing him up. “Alright then, let’s hear it.”
“I want a coral sharpening stone and a bottle of blue moon sword polish.”
Wei Qingwei threw his head back in a laugh, his whole body shaking.
“What? Are you crazy, or possessed?” he glanced at Hong Jing sitting in the corner, then shook his head. “Those are made from rare materials. Do you think I just give them away?”
Indeed, the materials were rare. Unlike what the name would suggest, coral sharpening stones are not named from the material they were made from, but rather the color. When the first Wan Jian Peak Lord had been excavating her peak to build the forage, she’d unearthed a cavern of red gems—originally assumed to be coral gemstones. It wasn’t until later, when she tried using her sword to break some away from her path, that she realized their hardiness and identified them as what they were: diamonds. These rare coral diamonds hadn’t been found in any other location in the world, and the Wan Jian Peak Lord took them as a blessing from the gods, a sign that her peak would be prosperous. She immediately decided that they’d act as sharpening stones for the entire peak. Although the material was limited, Shen Qingqiu had heard that the disciples had still yet to make even a dent in the bountiful supply afforded by the cavern.
Blue moon sword polish wasn’t as rare—it just took time to refine. It’s derived from moonflowers, which grow up to five meters tall and have long, silver petals—translucent and glowing, like the light of the moon. They have a large, round head that contains thousands of seeds, though they can only be harvested during a full moon, otherwise, they immediately shrivel and dry up. Unlike the seeds of sunflowers, these aren’t edible. They can, however, be refined into oil: a lightweight, versatile oil with a striking color of rich blue, like the sky at dusk. When applied to a blade, it dries clear, leaving behind no residue, but instead, a protective layer that guards the sword against moisture and rust while enhancing its shine.
Cheng Luan was a marvelous sword, one that belonged to a marvelous man. Shen Qingqiu knew he was asking for a lot, but like its master, Cheng Luan deserved the best. He wanted it to be well-maintained so that it’d never fail Liu Qingge during a battle.
“You couldn’t spare just one of each?” he gave the Wan Jian Peak Lord a beseeching look.
“If I gave them to you, I’d have every master in the damn sect banging down my door. There’s a reason we restrict our materials internally. Do you know how many swords we have to maintain here? Do you think Xiu Ya is that special?”
“It’s not for me.”
Wei Qingwei huffed, getting up and spinning his chair around. He sat back down, crossing his arms and resting them on the back of the chair.
“Alright, tell you what. I’ve decided that since I like you—”
Shen Qingqiu loudly scoffed, but Wei Qingwei ignored him, continuing, “and since you’ve intrigued me, I’ll let you have them. But not for free.”
Shen Qingqiu crossed his arms, holding up his head and looking down at his shidi, his eyes narrowed, suspiciously.
“Name your price.”
“Hmm…” Wei Qingwei thought it over, making a show of rubbing his chin and scrunching up his face. Then he looked at Shen Qingqiu with a smirk, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Shixiong should let me scent him.”
Shen Qingqiu took an unconscious step back, aghast.
Martial siblings or not, he did not want that man’s scent clinging to him for the rest of the day.
“Absolutely not,” he responded through gritted teeth, pulling out his fan and clutching it in his hand, as if prepared to bat the alpha away with it.
“Damn, there was no need to react so strongly!” Wei Qingwei sounded more hurt than apologetic. “You let Liu-shidi scent you—I can tell! So, I thought maybe you’d changed your mind. I was only joking, anyway. Calm down, I still have a scar from when you bit me last time.”
“It’s nothing personal.” Shen Qingqiu said, though he had no idea what compelled him to defend himself and reassure the other.
“I’m sure,” Wei Qingwei said, his tone dry; he didn’t sound convinced. “Whatever, it’s fine.”
Wei Qingwei eyed Shen Qingqiu for a moment, and then that dangerous smirk returned.
“So are the sword materials a gift for Liu-shidi, then?”
Shen Qingqiu jolted, suddenly feeling as though the heat of the forge had intensified tenfold.
“This one fails to see how that is any of Wei-shidi’s business.”
Wei Qingwei continued to watch him with that unnerving expression, and Shen Qingqiu shivered despite the layer of sweat sticking to his robes. He turned away, realizing that this endeavor was pointless.
“Never mind. This was a waste of time.”
“Dandetiger wine!”
Shen Qingqiu paused from where he was walking away, turning to look at Wei Qingwei from over his shoulder.
“Excuse me?”
“If Shen-Shixiong can get me a bottle of dandetiger wine from Zui Xian Peak, then this master will fulfill his request. Sound fair?”
Shen Qingqiu thought it over for a moment, then nodded.
“That seems like an adequate trade,” he agreed, heading outside, thankful to finally escape the stifling forge and his shidi’s stifling, knowing amusement.
He used his fan and a blast of qi to cool himself before heading to his next stop: Zui Xian Peak.
Or, better known as drunkards’ peak.
This peak lord was also easy to find, located stumbling around the brewery.
He tensed the moment Shen Qingqiu approached.
“Liu-shidi, please don’t break any—” he cut himself off when he turned and saw Shen Qingqiu, looking down at the bottle in his hand with a dumbfounded expression. “Fuck. I think my nose is drunk now, too.”
Shen Qingqiu scoffed as he watched the Zui Xian Peak Lord rub at his nose, and decided to take pity.
“Liu-shidi and I were sparring earlier. I guess his pheromones rubbed off on me.”
“Oh. That’s fine then.” the man took a swig of his bottle.
Shen Qingqiu tilted his head. As much as he hated this peak—hated the pungent scent of alcohol and the way the master and disciples tripped over themselves, inebriated—at least it was always amusing, in a way.
“Is Shidi not afraid of this master breaking anything?” he asked.
His shidi sent him a look and shook his head in exasperation.
“Shen-shixiong breaks things on purpose. There’s no stopping it, then.”
Shen Qingqiu chuckled despite himself. This was true.
“Enough chatter,” he said, knowing if he didn’t act soon, he’d lose his shidi’s attention entirely. “This master is here because he needs a bottle of dandetiger wine.”
It was almost comical the way the other man’s eyes bulged at that.
“Uh-uh, no way.” he shook his head, then swayed in place, dizzy. “We can only make a dozen of those a batch, and they take a decade to mature.”
Dandetigers were a rare type of flower—though they’re more commonly considered a weed. After blooming, they develop tufts of fuzz meant to be scattered in the wind. They’re poisonous to most predators, their colorful orange and black stripes acting as a suitable warning. Though, of course, many spices are poisonous to most predators. Alcohol itself was technically a poison.
Their colored stripes do little to deter humans, and in fact, make them more desirable. It was discovered that when refined into wine, they had a refreshing, tangy taste, not dissimilar to citrus fruits. The only issue is, in order to combat their potent poison, they had to ferment for a decade. Only then was the wine safe to consume. Still, this was a sect of immortals. How long was a decade for them?
“Don’t be greedy.” Shen Qingqiu chastised. What was with all these selfish men? Wasn’t he supposed to be the hoarder? Everything developed on Qing Jing Peak was shared freely with the other peaks, if they cared enough to ask for any aircolor paint or squidbat ink. “Share just one bottle with your shixiong; it’s the least you can do.”
The Zui Xian Peak Lord was never outwardly disrespectful to Shen Qingqiu, though usually, he was too drunk to even notice his presence, much less pay attention to the accusations others were dog-piling him with.
“Wei-shixiong has given the same speech, my answer is still no.”
It was below Shen Qingqiu to beg; he wasn’t the An Ding Peak Lord. However, he’d always known how to bargain.
“Name your price, then,” he said, knowing the drunkard wasn’t bold enough—even with the liquid courage—to mess with him the way Wei Qingwei had. “There must be something shidi wants. I’m resourceful; I can make it worth your while.”
The alpha huffed and rubbed his chin—although, unlike Wei Qingwei, he actually was deep in thought, needing to trudge through layers of fog just to have a single coherent thought.
“Oh!” he snapped his fingers, a newfound light in his eye. “I want a bottle of dewdrop perfume from Xian Shu Peak.”
“To… drink?” Shen Qingqiu asked, confused and slightly concerned.
“No! I just think it smells nice…” he sighed, a dreamy expression on his face. Then it crumpled into a pout. “Last time I asked Qi-shijie, she called me a pervert and kicked me off her peak. It’s nothing weird, though! Do you think I want to smell like alcohol all the time? It’s the only thing strong enough to mask the scent.”
That was true. Even the alpha’s pheromones got mixed up in the scent, doing more to enhance it than cover it up. Dewdrop perfume was special—it was designed specifically to interact with a person’s natural scent and add subtle hints of freshness. Rumor had it that it mimicked the effects of having a mate nearby, making a person’s scent deeper with pleasant undertones.
Perfume wasn’t rare in this world. Shen Qingqiu’s jiemeis at the brothel often used it, finding scents that complemented their natural pheromones well and using them to enhance their appeal. But it was rare for a perfume to do what this one was rumored. Shen Qingqiu was almost curious about it himself.
“Fine. This shixiong will see what he can do.”
“Really?” There were tears in the peak lord’s eyes as Shen Qingqiu nodded. “Wow, you’re the best! No one else ever does anything to help me!”
He went in for a hug, and Shen Qingqiu flicked him on the head, knocking him on his ass.
“This is purely for my own personal gain,” he told him, glaring down at the other man from behind his fan.
Then he turned on his heel and walked away.
Shen Qingqiu hadn’t realized when he started this endeavor that it’d require so much socializing.
He shuddered at the thought. He wasn’t sure he’d visited this many of his martial siblings in a day since… ever. But it was too late to back out now, not when he’d already come this far.
For Qingge. He reminded himself, continuing onward. He deserves the best.
Shen Qingqiu didn’t have the worst relationship with Qi Qingqi, at least. They didn’t interact much, since they never had a reason to. Though, he was sure she’d heard the rumors about his insatiable lust by the way she watched him sometimes, too guarded to be natural.
He was also sure her disciples had spread most of those rumors, and even if it wasn’t by her dictation, she’d still done nothing to stop it. Even if one didn’t fan the flames, refusing to smother a kitchen fire still meant you’d allowed the place to burn down—enabling the flames through inaction.
He took the rainbow bridge to Xian Shu Peak, knowing there was a chance of being shot out of the sky if he flew over it via sword. He’d heard the horror stories of those who tried to infiltrate the all-girl peak, or who were just unlucky and wandered too close for Qi Qingqi’s comfort.
Even for an alpha, she was excessive, guarding her territory with tight-fisted control.
As he approached the peak, Shen Qingqiu was intercepted by a young girl in pale purple robes, a translucent pink veil shielding her face.
She scrambled to set aside the book she’d been reading, replacing it with her sword, which she pointed toward him as she shouted, “halt!”
Shen Qingqiu paused his step, almost amused by his martial sister’s theatrics. Did she think stationing a little girl in front of her peak would stop anyone?
Actually… Shen Qingqiu recognized that steely glare and the beauty mark stamped in the corner of her eye.
That was Liu Qingge’s sister. She probably could stop someone if they dared cross her. Even Shen Qingqiu was hesitant to trigger her ire.
“State your business!” she ordered, as if he wasn’t a peak lord, and she wasn’t still a pup gripping a training sword.
Still, since this was Liu Qingge’s sister, Shen Qingqiu decided to indulge her.
“This master is here to request an audience with his Qi-shimei.”
Liu Mingyan’s face twisted as if she’d bitten into a lemon, her glare intensifying.
“Shizun is much too busy for the likes of you.”
So it seemed his reputation among the youth hadn’t changed much since he’d last checked; good to know.
“That’s fine.” Shen Qingqiu crossed his arms, staring the little brat down. “This master can wait.”
If there was one thing Shen Qingqiu knew about a Liu, it was that they were not born with patience as a part of their skill set.
Sure enough, after an incense time, Liu Mingyan started to squirm.
She couldn’t abandon her post, but now, with someone watching her, she couldn’t slack off, either.
So, straight-backed and poised she stood, her sword held loftily before her.
Her arm was beginning to tremble.
Shen Qingqiu sighed, feeling pity for the poor thing, and reached out, adjusting her posture slightly.
“You! Unhand me, you—you…” Liu Mingyan floundered at his lack of dastardly intentions, staring wide-eyed down at the arm he’d briefly touched before retreating. “You?”
“Try that posture. Holding your arm at a lower angle will help you keep your stance steady for longer.”
Liu Mingyan huffed. She didn’t thank him, but she didn’t continue to curse at him either.
Once again, as expected from a Liu.
Another while of silence passed. Liu Mingyan lasted much longer this time.
But a pre-teen could hardly be expected to out-wait an immortal master.
Eventually, she stomped her foot, the visible portion of her face going red in frustration.
“You’re so annoying! I don’t know what ge suddenly sees in you!”
Shen Qingqiu hardly registered her pulling out a talisman to summon her master, his mind too busy whirling with Liu-shidi talks about me?
Liu-shidi says good things about me?
He sees something in me?
His brief moment of insanity was cut short by a new arrival, Qi Qingqi approaching, much like a rolling thunderstorm.
“Shen Qingqiu!” she bellowed, coming up behind her disciple and then pushing the girl behind her. “How dare you harass my disciple!”
Shen Qingqiu refrained from rolling his eyes.
Once again, theatrics.
“This master did no such thing. He merely requested an audience with Qi-shimei, so Liu-shizhi summoned you.”
She glared, watching him for a moment, then turned to her disciple for confirmation.
Liu Mingyan hesitated, then gave a small nod. “Shen-shibo didn’t try to break into the peak. He waited at the border patiently.” she spat that last word like he’d been expecting her to spit the first.
“Those summon talismans are for emergencies only. You’re supposed to wait until the next patrol comes to report visitors.”
It looked like she wanted to talk back, but unlike her brother, she actually had sense and bit her tongue.
One could hardly claim a case of boredom as an emergency.
She hung her head, looking scolded, and Shen Qingqiu let her stew for a moment before bailing her out.
“This master told Liu-shizhi it was urgent and insisted she summon Qi-shimei at once.”
Qi Qingqi narrowed her eyes at him, as if she didn’t quite believe it, but then again, what reason would Shen Qingqiu have to cover for a disciple so far below him?
“Fine.” Qi Qingqi said, turning to Liu Mingyan. “You’re dismissed.”
She waved Liu Mingyan off, who bowed to both masters before turning and scurrying up the steps of Xian Shu Peak. Qi Qingqi watched her go until her figure disappeared, then she turned to Shen Qingqiu, her arms crossed.
“Forgive this shimei’s rudeness, those talismans are only supposed to be torn if one of my girls perceives a threat.”
To a Liu, boredom was probably the biggest threat of all, much more fearsome than any beast.
Shen Qingqiu hummed at the thought, and Qi Qingqi raised an eyebrow, motioning for him to speak. “Well, get on with it. This master doesn’t have all day. Since Shen-shixiong was so insistent, this had better be important.”
“It is.” Shen Qingqiu assured her. At least, it was important to him, even if it wasn’t dire sect business. “This master needs a bottle of dewdrop perfume.”
Qi Qingqi scoffed, saying, “then I’ll tell you what I told the last pervert who asked—”
“How does wanting perfume make one a pervert?”
“Obviously perverted alphas would want to use it for a stand-in to omega pheromones when they can’t find anyone willing to mate with them!”
Shen Qingqiu blinked.
There were so many things wrong with that claim that he was having trouble coming up with them all.
He may not be a medic like Mu Qingfang, but even he knew that just because pheromones had a smell didn’t mean they could be compared to perfume. No matter how well the perfume mimicked them.
They were chemicals. Messenger signals released from the body that could influence the behaviors of others.
They were a natural form of communication, not something you put on to smell pretty.
He’d spent so long suppressing his own that he could feel the difference between them and the soaps and perfumes he’d used to smother them.
It wasn’t even a competition—it was like comparing day and night. It was like claiming the light of the stars was the same as that of the sun.
As beautiful as they were, they were but small pinpricks in the sky, nothing like the blinding ball of radiance that chased them away from the east each morning.
“Qi-shimei, this shixiong must know whether you’re joking, or if you genuinely believe what you said.”
“Well…” Qi Qingqi faltered, adverting her gaze. “Undoubtedly, the two things are different, but if someone was that desperate… how much of a difference would it make?”
“Does Qi-shimei not have omegas on her peak?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Qi Qingqi shot back, offended. “I don’t discriminate. As long as she’s a girl, she’s welcome on Xian Shu Peak! Why would you even ask that?”
“Never mind.” Shen Qingqiu recognized a lost cause when he saw one. “Can we just return to the topic at hand?”
“There’s nothing left to discuss. This master’s answer is no.” Qi Qingqi crossed her arms, her expression severe. “We grow Mountain Dewdrop Flowers specially here on our peak, so why should we just give out the perfume developed from their scent? It’s for my girls only. They’ve earned it after cultivating the gardens for so long. Go grow your own flowers if it’s that important!”
“So you’ll give me a Mountain Dewdrop clipping?”
“Ha!” Qi Qingqi threw back her head. “Absolutely not! The gardens here have been maintained for centuries to create the perfect Mountain Dewdrop Flower bulbs. Why would this master let others steal one?”
What she was saying wasn’t wrong. The first Xian Shu Peak Lord spent centuries cultivating Mountain Dewdrop Flowers, breeding them from regular Dewdrop Flowers one could find in the wild. She bred them for certain traits, such as color and scent, but focused highly on creating a breed that could thrive on the mountainous conditions of her peak, hence their name.
Still, Xian Shu Peak wasn’t the only peak with a specialized resource.
“That’s shimei’s problem. You say to grow your own, but Mountain Dewdrop Flowers are nonexistent in the wild. So Xian Shu Peak only keeps them to themselves.”
“And why shouldn’t we?”
“We’re a sect. A pack, ” he reminded her. Why was he the one having to explain this to his martial siblings? “Does Qing Jing Peak hoard the rubyroot dye this master developed that your disciples love to paint their lips with?”
“That’s unimportant.” Qi Qingqi stuck her nose in the air. For all the people who called Shen Qingqiu a stuck-up, lofty immortal, his shimei had always acted the part as well. Perhaps it was just more acceptable for a strong and attractive alpha woman from a noble bloodline. “Besides, how can one keep a color to themself? It’s only a shade of red.”
“How can one keep a scent? It’s only a bottle of perfume.”
Qi Qingqi tightened her jaw, though he could hear the slight growl bleeding into her exhale.
“Fine. Do this shimei a favor, and maybe she’ll consider granting your request.”
“No.” Shen Qingqiu crossed his arms, mirroring her agitated stance. “This master doesn’t work for free. Assure this one of your cooperation before making any demands.”
“Since Shixiong insists, this master assures him he’ll get his bottle of perfume if he fulfills his shimei’s request.”
“Alright.” Shen Qingqiu agreed; he believed her. Qi Qingqi wasn’t the most honorable in the sect, that was, of course, Liu Qingge, but she was at least in the top three. Not like him, who came in dead last. “What does Qi-shimei need from this shixiong?”
“Information.” Qi Qingqi clenched her fists, then loosened them again. “This stays confidential, but someone broke into Xian Shu Peak recently and stole some of the fabric used for the disciple uniforms.”
“How shocking.” Shen Qingqiu deadpanned, but Qi Qingqi just nodded, his tone lost on her.
“It is,” she agreed, a serious air about her. “Shixiong is our sect strategist. This master figured if anyone could find the culprit, it could be him.”
“Leave it to this master, then.” Shen Qingqiu easily accepted the request.
The two shook hands, each sneering and wiping their palms against their robes the second they turned away.
It wouldn’t be a difficult request to fulfill. Of course, he knew the culprit. The aforementioned fabric was hung up around his nest, gifted to him by his alpha.
Obviously, he couldn’t rat Liu Qingge out, though—he wasn’t a snitch.
No, instead, he’d need someone pathetic enough to take the blame after only a few threats and/or bribery.
There was really only one choice.
Shen Qingqiu smirked to himself as he mounted Xiu Ya and headed toward An Ding Peak.
Shang Qinghua was the easiest peak lord to find—when he wasn’t missing, as if somehow mysteriously vanishing from his peak, that is. He could usually be located in his leisure house, fisting handfuls of melon seeds and half-hidden behind a stack of paperwork.
“Shang-shidi.”
The mousy man yelped, trembling in fear as he ducked under his desk, his hands covering his head.
“It wasn’t my fault, please spare my life!”
“What?”
At the lack of being skewered by Xiu Ya or cursed by malicious talismans, Shang Qinghua cautiously peeked out from between his fingers, letting out a nervous laugh.
“Ah, haha, Shen-shixiong! Wh—what a surprise! How nice it is to… to see you! Here! In my house!” he pulled himself out from his hiding spot, returning to his seat, though he was still shielded by the sheer amount of paperwork stacked in front of him.
“Yes, I’m sure it’s a pleasant surprise,” Shen Qingqiu replied, dryly.
“It is!” Shang Qinghua assured him. “Do you want some tea?”
He picked up a stained teacup that looked as if it’d been sitting on his desk for the better part of a week.
Shen Qingqiu shuddered and denied the offer.
“M’kay, suit yourself!” Shang Qinghua downed the stale tea in a single gulp, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “So, what can I do for you?”
“Take the blame for something.”
“What? For what? Did you… kill someone or something?” Shang Qinghua lowered his voice to a whisper, nervously glancing around the room, beads of sweat forming on his brow. “Listen, whatever it is, I’m sure Zhangmen-shixiong will—”
“Not me.” Shen Qingqiu gritted out, effectively cutting the other man off. “Liu-shidi.”
“Oh, fuck, what’d he break this time?” Shang Qinghua looked morbidly curious. Then, he remembered whose job it was to clean up the War God’s messes. “ Oh… Fuck. What’d he break this time?”
Shen Qingqiu enjoyed how desolate Shang Qinghua appeared, and would have loved to keep him that way for longer, but, alas, he had more important things to do.
“Nothing,” he assured Shang Qinghua, who slumped so heavily in relief he was practically reduced to a drooping pile of goo. “He stole something from Xian Shu Peak.”
Shang Qinghua yelped, his stress returning with a vengeance.
“He what?” his face paled by several shades. “I can’t take the blame for that, do you want me to die? Qi-shimei will kill me!”
“Stop being dramatic, it’s unbecoming.” Shen Qingqiu sneered as his shidi whined and cried, tears pooling in his eyes.
“I’m not!” Shang Qingqiu reached out, grasping Shen Qingqiu’s robes. “Please, Shen-shixiong, have mercy!”
“If Shidi is fond of that hand, this master advises him to let go immediately.”
Shang Qinghua dropped Shen Qingqiu’s robes like a hot iron, becoming increasingly frantic.
Shen Qingqiu sighed, annoyed. If he threatened the man now, he’d just start sobbing.
“What do you want?”
“Wha—?” Shang Qinghua paused in the midst of his breakdown, stunned.
“In exchange.” Shen Qingqiu clarified.
Shang Qinghua’s eyes widened, seeming to shine—and not just from the sheer number of unshed tears. “Shen-shixiong will give this shidi a boon?”
“If it’s within reason, this master doesn’t see why not.”
Shang Qinghua looked like he was about to start crying again, and even reached for Shen Qingqiu before he remembered the man’s previous threat and flinched away.
He took a few breaths and wiped his face, then steeled himself.
“I want you to ask the sect leader to give me a grace period for all this paperwork I’m supposed to turn in tomorrow.”
“No.”
“But please!” Shang Qinghua wailed, the tears making a reappearance. “Only three days! I’ll definitely have them finished by then!”
“No.”
“Look at this stack! Look at it, Shixiong!” Shang Qinghua pointed at the stack of paperwork on his desk with a trembling hand. “It's as tall as I am!”
“Shang-shidi is short, that’s hardly a comparison.”
“Don’t be fucking rude!” Shang Qinghua fell to his knees, kowtowing. “Please, please, please.”
“Just ask him yourself.” Shen Qingqiu sneered, kicking the man away.
“I did!” Shang Qinghua huffed, jumping back to his feet. “He said that this”—he motioned around the room—“was a reasonable amount of work.”
“It’s not too bad,” Shen Qingqiu shrugged, surveying the room. He picked up a folder, leafing through the contents. “This shixiong is sure if Shang-shidi dedicates himself, he can get it done in a reasonable amount of time.”
“But I don’t wanna!” The man—or rather adult-sized toddler, if one were to be honest—cried. “Shixiong, you don’t get it. You only do the work of one peak, I do the work of eleven.”
Shen Qingqiu almost refrained from an eye roll, then did it anyway. Who cared about keeping up a lofty, patient image when he was dealing with this?
“Don’t exaggerate,” he told him, pulling out his fan and cooling himself with it, scrutinizing his shidi from above the edge. “If Shang-shidi didn’t want this to happen, then he wouldn’t have let his work pile up.”
“It’s not my fault. Half of these came in this morning!”
Shen Qingqiu was sure he was exaggerating—this type of backlog must have taken weeks, if not months, to accumulate.
Maybe if Shang Qinghua stayed on his peak more often, rather than disappearing to who-knows-where, then it wouldn’t be an issue.
“That’s my final offer!” Shang Qinghua declared, crossing his arms. “If you want my help, this is all I ask in return! Zhangmen-shixiong will definitely grant the request if you’re the one asking. And you’d barely have to talk to him.”
Shen Qingqiu glared at him, and although Shang Qinghua wrung his hands pathetically, he stood his ground.
“A-and good luck finding someone else to push around! No one else would agree to this, and you know it. It’s really a fair trade! We’ll both have to deal with our sect siblings bothering us, won’t we?”
Shen Qingqiu considered it.
As much as he hated Qiong Ding Peak, as much as he hated that man, he had to admit Shang Qinghua wasn’t asking for a lot.
It was a fair trade, considering Shen Qingqiu would be all but throwing him to the wolves.
“Fine.”
“Really!?” Shang Qinghua’s voice reached a frequency that only dogs could hear. Shen Qingqiu groaned and covered his ears. “Sorry, sorry! Um… but wait. Why do you even want me to take the fall, anyway?”
“I won’t snitch on Liu-shidi.”
“Right. Of course not! And then… you’re helping Qi-shimei because? It just doesn’t seem in your character.”
“I’m not helping her.” Shen Qingqiu clarified. “It’s a trade, I find the culprit, and she gives me a bottle of dewdrop perfume. Then, I trade that perfume for a bottle of dandetiger wine, which is traded for a coral sword sharpening stone and blue moon sword polish.”
“Woah, a trading quest. I’ve never seen one in real life,” Shang Qinghua marveled, babbling his usual nonsense. “Well, I could get you the blue moon sword polish. The An Ding disciples are the ones forced to polish all the swords on Wan Jian Peak, after all. But you’re on your own for the coral sharpening stone. Wei-shixiong keeps that under lock and key. So annoying!”
“This master has it handled.”
“Good, good!” Shang Qinghua nodded enthusiastically. Then, there was a strange shine in his eyes. “So… are these gifts for Liu-shidi, then? I heard you guys were close.”
“Did Mu-shidi tell you that?” Shen Qingqiu asked. Growled, really.
So much for doctor-patient confidentiality.
“Huh? No!” Shang Qingqiu held out his hands, waving them frantically. “He’s just been spotted on Qing Jing Peak, like, every day. Plus, you’re passing the perfect opportunity to throw him under the… carriage?”
“What?”
“Ugh, never mind. This is the longest conversation I’ve had all week. Forget it.”
“This master will take his leave, then.”
Shen Qingqiu turned away, hearing his shidi let out a breath that sounded suspiciously like thank gods.
He grabbed Xiu Ya, squeezing the handle until his knuckles turned white.
Just one last stop. He’d already come this far.
Dread pooled in his gut, but he blamed it on the altitude as he approached the highest peak, centered in the middle of the mountain range.
The disciples cast him sideways glances, curiosity and apprehension bleeding into their expressions. It was always a show when he appeared.
Within an incense time, someone—usually him—would storm off in a blind rage.
He took a deep breath and headed toward the main hall, knowing Yue Qingyuan spent more time there than he did in his own home.
Yue Qingyuan smiled when he saw him, though it strained after even a few seconds in his presence.
“Qingqiu-shidi, what a pleasant surprise. What can this shixiong do for you?”
At least this time, he was cutting right to the chase, rather than attempting to trap Shen Qingqiu with meaningless pleasantries and small talk.
“Give Shang-shidi an extra three-day grace period for his paperwork.”
“Ah,” if Yue Qingyuan was surprised by his request, it didn’t show in his face. “I’m afraid that paperwork is very important. It must be turned in by tomorrow.”
“Well, Shang-shidi’s busy. Helping this master with something. So he needs extra time.”
“Oh? If Qingqiu-shidi requires assistance, this one would be happy to—”
“Grant his request? Thank you, this one is grateful.”
Yue Qingyuan’s expression faltered as he lowered his head. “Yes, of course, if that’s what Qingqiu-shidi wishes.”
“If that is all, then—”
“Wait!” Yue Qingyuan stopped Shen Qingqiu as he turned toward the door. “I—this Zhangmen was wondering how Qingqiu-shidi has been? It’s so rare for you to visit.”
“This wasn’t a social call. Spare this master the interrogation.”
He turned to leave again, but Yue Qingyuan had never known how to leave well enough alone.
“Have you and Liu-shidi been fighting again?”
Shen Qingqiu froze.
“Why does Zhangmen-shixiong ask?”
“It’s only that Liu-shidi has been spotted on Qing Jing Peak recently, and well… his scent is clinging to you.”
“And if we have been fighting?” Shen Qingqiu asked, pulling his fan from his belt and flicking it open. “How is that Zhangmen-shixiong’s concern?”
Yue Qingyuan sighed, and his upright posture drooped slightly.
“As the leader of the sect, this master is very concerned about whether his martial siblings are getting along. We’re a pack—a united front.”
Shen Qingqiu only hummed in response.
“Qingqiu-shidi, please. All this master asks is for you to at least try—”
“Try?” Shen Qingqiu said, his shoulders shaking with a dry laugh. “According to Zhangmen-shixiong, Liu-shidi has been coming to my peak, but it’s this master’s job to pacify him?”
The two hadn’t been fighting, but Yue Qingyuan’s words infuriated Shen Qingqiu, nonetheless.
“That wasn’t—there is no blame here, I only meant—”
“Save it.” Shen Qingqiu turned away. “If Zhangmen-shixiong is suddenly so keen on explaining himself, then he should waste his breath on something that matters.”
The room fell silent.
Yue Qingyuan opened his mouth, then snapped it closed. His expression shuddered into that same placating smile.
Shen Qingqiu laughed—cold and spiteful.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
He turned away, and this time, Yue Qingyuan let him.
Shen Qingqiu had learned long ago never to get his hopes up. Yue Qingyuan would never explain why.
Why he’d never returned.
It didn’t matter. Not anymore.
“This master will send Shang-shidi a memo about the extension.” Yue Qingyuan said, his voice quiet, barely a whisper, as if he’d lost the will to speak.
“See to it that you do.” Shen Qingqiu replied in a hardened tone, slamming the door closed behind him.
Qiong Ding Peak disciples dived out of the way as he stormed out of the hall, stepping onto Xiu Ya the second his feet touched the grass.
No need to linger in a place he wasn’t wanted—a place he’d never be welcomed.
This time, a different girl was guarding Xian Shu Peak, one who fled up the stairs the moment she saw Shen Qingqiu approaching.
He scoffed, stopping at the end of the rainbow bridge and waiting.
It didn’t take long for Qi Qingqi to appear—alone. No doubt that useless disciple was left kneeling somewhere or running laps. Maybe she’d be whipped for abandoning her post so easily, though Qi Qingqi usually saved that punishment for more serious infractions.
“Shen-shixiong.” she addressed, stopping at the bottom of the stairs and crossing her arms, her head tilted to the side. “So?”
“It was Shang-shidi.”
“I knew he was a pervert!” Qi Qingqi raged, muttering angrily to herself for a minute before remembering her audience. “Oh, right. Here.”
She reached into her sleeve, pulling out a bottle of dewdrop perfume and handing it over.
“This master is thankful Qi-shimei is holding up her end of the bargain.”
“This shimei heard a thanks in that, and accepts Shen-shixiong’s gratitude.” Qi Qingqi said with a huff. “Shixiong has mine as well. The dewdrop perfume was well-earned.”
She bowed to him—not low and deferential, but enough to show at least some respect.
Qi Qingqi left without a goodbye, gliding up the steps of Xian Shu Peak and barking at one of the disciples she passed to take up the abandoned guard post.
Shen Qingqiu went on his way, as well.
The Zui Xian Peak Lord was blacked out and unconscious by the time Shen Qingqiu returned to the peak, which saved him a conversation.
Shen Qingqiu left the bottle of perfume lying next to where he was sprawled on the floor, finding the way into the peak’s catacombs himself and locating the shelf of famous dandetiger wine.
The arrays protecting them were easily enough to slip past, and in less than a shichen, Shen Qingqiu was returning to where this had all started, his entire afternoon wasted.
Or, was it really a waste when he’d get what he came for, in the end?
“Wei-shidi.”
This time, the man was herding a group of pangolins. He stumbled, nearly tripping over one of them before catching himself and spinning around with wide eyes. Comically wide, when they zeroed in on the bottle of wine Shen Qingqiu was holding.
“Oh, shit.” he made his way over to his shixiong, taking the bottle out of his hand and staring at it. “Don’t take this personally, Shen-shixiong, but this shidi didn’t think you could actually do it.”
“How can this one not take it personally?” Shen Qingqiu said with a huff, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes. “This is the master of Qing Jing Peak you’re speaking to. Did shidi believe this one incapable of diplomatic negotiations?”
“This one is well acquainted with shixiong’s penchant for using bribery and threats to persuade others and get his way. But this master has been trying to get a bottle of dandetiger wine for years with no luck. He should not have underestimated his shixiong’s skill.”
“Wei-shidi wasn’t trying hard enough, is all.” Shen Qingqiu replied with a nonchalant shrug. “Now, pay up. Unless shidi intends on not holding up to his end of the bargain?”
Wei Qingwei gulped at the glint in Shen Qingqiu’s eyes, knowing that trying to exploit the other man was nothing short of a death sentence.
“Of course! The coral sharpening sword and blue moon sword oil are yours,” Wei Qingwei assured him. “And anything else shixiong wants. This dandetiger wine is much more valuable than those paltry rewards. Fancy a second spiritual sword?”
“This master fears Xiu Ya would get jealous. It’s quite possessive.”
“Mn, makes sense.” Wei Qingwei nodded. “Well, this master is sure to think of something.”
“There’s no need.” Shen Qingqiu told him. “If that is all, then this master will take his leave.”
“Hm?” Wei Qingwei was already distracted trying to pop the cork of his bottle, seeming to have forgotten Shen Qingqiu was still there. “Oh, wait, did you want to try some? Shixiong deserves to taste the fruit of his labor!”
“No.” Shen Qingqiu said—short and simple.
Wei Qingwei took the refusal with grace, not attempting to convince Shen Qingqiu to take a sip. Instead, he called over one of his disciples to bring Shen Qingqiu his rewards and escort him to the rainbow bridge.
By the time Shen Qingqiu returned to Qing Jing Peak, the sky was turning dark.
Liu Qingge had found a way to entertain himself, practicing sword formations on the practice field.
Most of the disciples steered clear, though a few of the braver ones lingered near the edge, eyeing him curiously until a hall master walked past and ushered them to where they were supposed to be at this hour—which was anywhere other than gawking at their shishu.
Shen Qingqiu was allowed to gawk, though. He was the Peak Lord, who would stop him?
So, he stood and watched his alpha work out, Liu Qingge’s form steady as Cheng Luan made wide arcs, dark blue sword glares bouncing from the surface, carving deep scars into the dirt, which was already littered with hundreds of shallow cuts from the Qing Jing disciples.
He’d shed his outer robe, the inner layers clinging to him as sweat dripped down his back, his skin flushed with exertion.
Shen Qingqiu hated to admit it, but it wasn’t a bad view.
Much too quickly, though, the show was cut short, Liu Qingge turning toward him.
When he noticed Shen Qingqiu staring, he smiled. A small upturn of the lips—the biggest expression one could get from the man—but a smile, nonetheless.
“Hey,” he called, holding Cheng Luan over his shoulder as he made his way over. “Where have you been?”
“This shixiong got you something.” Shen Qingqiu admitted, shifting slightly as he awaited Liu Qingge’s reaction.
“Oh?” he said, tilting his head, not unlike a curious dog.
“Mn.” Shen Qingqiu nodded, reaching into his sleeve and retrieving the coral sharpening stone and blue moon sword polishing oil. “So? What does Liu-shidi think?”
“You got those for me?” he asked, taking the offerings from his shixiong. “Did you rob Wan Jian Peak?”
There was no accusation in his tone. Instead, there was amusement lining his voice, his small smile unwavering—somehow becoming a natural fixture while in Shen Qingqiu’s presence.
He leaned in, his voice pitched low as he said, “this shidi heard that’s not something we’re supposed to do.”
Shen Qingqiu knew he was alluding to the fabric he’d stolen from Xian Shu Peak, something Shen Qingqiu hadn’t scolded him for, per se, but brought up on occasion, teasing his shidi for being a kleptomaniac and inquiring whether he needed to hide away his good brushes from his sticky hands.
Shen Qingqiu heard the laugh before he felt it in his chest, his shoulders shaking with the force of it.
Light and carefree, so alien to his usual huffs of derision and sarcastic scoffs.
When did it become so easy to laugh?
“For shidi’s information,” Shen Qingqiu said, his lips quirked upward, “This shixiong procured those goods in an ethical manner.”
“Well, convincing Wei-shixiong to part with them must have been quite a feat.”
“It wasn’t too difficult.” Shen Qingqiu shrugged. “The Peak Lords in this sect are pathetically weak-willed.”
He went on to explain his so-called "trading quest". As he spoke, Liu Qingge’s amused smile relaxed into something small and natural, fondness in his gaze.
“You were helping our martial siblings?”
“Who said that?” Shen Qingqiu asked, his tone haughty. “It was merely an exchange of goods and services.”
“Mn.” Liu Qingge agreed, the amusement making a fated return.
Shen Qingqiu wasn’t surprised by the arms that wrapped around him, instead melting into his shidi’s embrace.
“Thank you.” Liu Qingge said, pressing a kiss to the top of the omega’s head. “I'm proud of you.”
Shen Qingqiu huffed.
“Who asked for that?” he mumbled.
His cheeks burned red as he buried his face against the alpha's chest, hidden by his robes.
His face wasn't the only thing feeling hot—his entire body was awash in a warm glow, basking in the praise despite how much he protested, claiming he didn't need it.
He didn't need it. But it was nice.
It was nice knowing that for once he'd done things right; he hadn't started a fight or turned his martial siblings further against him. They even seemed—for lack of a better term—pleased.
For once, he'd done well. No, he'd done good.