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Chapter Text

The sun was slowly climbing out of its resting place, and their candle had burned down to a stub. They were lying together in Yue Qingyuan’s bed, with their swords leaning against the bed frame at their feet. They were stuck like this the whole night, silently holding each other, as if they had found land after being left to drown in icy water.

Yue Qingyuan lay on his back with Shen Qingqiu curled against his side. Their legs got tangled together, Shen Qingqiu’s wide robes covering them. He could feel Yue Qingyuan’s breath against his head, making the soft hair tickle his forehead.

His fingers traced spirals against the fabric covering Yue Qingyuan’s chest. The touch was so light it almost tickled, at times becoming harsher, his fingernail digging into the fabric, almost as if he was trying to reach the heart beating under the surface and rip it out.

Still, his touch never failed to return to softness.

Yue Qingyuan’s forefinger traced gentle circles against his shoulder, sometimes stilling as the hand tightened in his robes, as if trying to make sure Shen Qingqiu was truly there. In these moments his heart beat a little faster, as if already preparing itself for disappointment.

The sun was about to rise soon.

They had to separate now, before any disciples could see them together. Shen Qingqiu silently untangled himself from Yue Qingyuan, who looked ready to protest.

“I need to leave before the day starts,” he explained, his hand smoothing over Yue Qingyuan’s wrist to calm his nerves, or maybe to kill the feeling inside of him that called for them to stay like this forever.

Yue Qingyuan pursed his lips and nodded. He silently walked Shen Qingqiu to his door. Neither of them wanted to leave the other, not now, not when a peace was created between them. Something so much more meaningful than any other truce.

Still, their lives couldn’t be paused just because they wanted to.

Yue Qingyuan stood in the doorway with pleading eyes, like a puppy begging for a second feeding. “Could I walk Shidi back to Qing Jing Peak?”

Shen Qingqiu shook his head. It would draw unnecessary attention. “I’m going to fly on my sword.”

Yue Qingyuan’s mouth pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t object, instead simply nodding.

As Shen Qingqiu walked away, he kept glancing back—at the man still standing in the doorway. It was the hardest ten steps he had ever made, as if once he had turned his back on him they would never meet again.

He had never truly wondered before what Yue Qingyuan—Qi-ge had felt when he had to leave Xiao-Jiu on that day. Did he realize what they would have to face just to truly reunite again?

When Shen Qingqiu mounted his sword he forcefully tore himself away, and caged whatever feelings might have been freed during the night, so that they wouldn’t distract him. He also made up his mind to finally finish the Peak Lord duties and look through all the documents that had accumulated on his desk.

The rest of the day seemed to pass quickly and drag at once. The Twelve Peaks’ Annual Martial Arts Tournament was going to happen at the end of the next week. The whole mountain buzzed with preparations. Shen Qingqiu had almost forgotten about it, too enamored with his own problems. Thankfully, the brunt of preparations fell to the disciples themselves, and he could focus on the administrative work he had put off, leaving the progress charts for later.

Despite the boring work, there was a certain lightness about the way Shen Qingqiu wrote and thought—as if shackles were lifted after having worn through his skin, allowing the wounds to finally begin healing. It made him scowl less as he signed documents, and perhaps it also made him a bit distracted in how his mind seemed to wander in the direction of Qiong Ding. He even caught himself smiling a few times.

He couldn’t imagine not spending the next night with Yue Qingyuan.

As he stood before the door to the Pine House at night, he felt stupid. He had briefly visited his brothel earlier, sneaking in just to give the brothel keeper enough money for Xiu Ying to last the whole week. Luckily, Xiu Ying wasn’t there to protest as he quickly left the establishment, and the brothel keeper didn’t comment on his strange behavior.

He knocked, and before he could fully drop his hand the door had already opened.

“Shidi came,” Yue Qingyuan said with a relieved smile.

Shen Qingqiu raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t think Shixiong had noticed.”

Yue Qingyuan’s smile widened and he moved aside to let him enter.

The main room had five candles placed on small plates keeping the darkness at bay. Four were placed in the corners of the room, and one at a small table in the middle. Everything about the room reeked Qiong Ding, with its minimalist, yet strong design. Notably, there were no light pearls present, which made the room seem somewhat… not as opulent as the dwelling place of the Sect Leader should be.

The door closed after him.

They stood in uncomfortable silence for a while, and Shen Qingqiu toyed with his open fan, shielding himself from Yue Qingyuan’s smile. There was something special about last night, something that seemed unreachable now.

Yue Qingyuan seemed just as lost, but he was the first one to break the silence. “Maybe let’s sit, Shidi.”

“Alright,” Shen Qingqiu reluctantly took his place by the small table in the middle of the room, sitting on the floor, but kept his fan between them.

Yue Qingyuan glanced up, opened his mouth, and shut it. Shen Qingqiu mindlessly looked around the room.

There was so much to talk about, to discuss, but there was no easy way to reach these topics. They couldn’t be avoided either. When everything between them was still broken it was simpler—Yue Qingyuan would try to get any answer from his Shidi, and Shen Qingqiu would deflect any attempt at connection. But now… What do you say if the whole relationship is balanced on silence?

There was a tea set on the table—blueish green, with golden bamboos sketched into the ceramic—a beautiful, yet very simple design. There was a special kind of minimalist ruthlessness about the whole peak, as if the true leader had to be always strong and unforgiving. Yue Qingyuan took the teapot in his hands.

“It may not be as hot as you’d like,” Yue Qingyuan said in a soft voice, while carefully pouring Shen Qingqiu a cup, “but I didn’t expect Shidi to come by. I had hoped you would, but yesterday seemed more like a dream.” He moved the teapot to pour tea for himself as well.

Shen Qingqiu smiled behind his fan. “Maybe the dream simply didn’t end yet.”

“Then may I never wake up again,” Yue Qingyuan said sincerely while putting the teapot back down.

Shen Qingqiu shook his head. “I never knew you’d grow up to be like this.”

“Like what?” The tone was light, Yue Qingyuan’ss smile partially hidden as he brought his cup to his lips.

“Zhangmen-shixiong should write poetry.”

Yue Qingyuan chuckled faintly. “Isn’t it the domain of Qing Jing Peak?”

As if led by a reflex Shen Qingqiu wanted to find the sharp edge of that question, the painful lack of understanding and turn it against Yue Qingyuan. To pierce him with it. This violent thought flew into his mind like an arrow and deeply embedded itself there. He could only close and open his fan sharply, before finally answering, “It’s not one of the four arts, Sect Leader should know that.”

Yue Qingyuan’s smile diminished slightly, and he said, “I do.”

And even though Yue Qingyuan didn’t apologize, it was evident he wanted to. And because of this ‘All you ever know is to say sorry,’ pushed and elbowed every other thought in Shen Qingqiu’s head until it could declare itself the winner. The winner of what? He couldn’t say. The silence that followed seemed to belong to someone else, to their selves from a week ago, or some strangers they had never met.

When they sat like this it seemed like they themselves were the strangers.

The flames of the five candles flickered for a moment, drawing weird shadows against their faces. Shen Qingqiu closed his fan, picked up his cup and sipped on his tea. It wasn’t scalding hot and did nothing to help him.

Yue Qingyuan opened his mouth, then closed it. He had the look of a child that just noticed a big frog hiding behind a leaf, a child that wanted to observe the animal more closely but was scared any movement would scare it off. Shen Qingqiu wasn’t a frog, nor a toad, though, that’s why instead of jumping away he said, “Is there anything Zhangmen-shixiong would like to ask this Peak Lord?”

All the formalities seemed to catch in the silence between them as if in a spiderweb, only making it much more visible.

Yue Qingyuan shook his head, but then said, “There is, but I don’t want Shidi to misunderstand.”

“Go ahead.”

Yue Qingyuan stared at him as if expecting an attack before exhaling. “If there was something, some influence,” he seemed to be consciously arranging every word in the least threatening way, “If Shidi has reasons to suspect that something unusual is happening, please tell me.”

It all just said: I know something’s wrong, and I want to help. It wasn’t too difficult to figure out just how Shen Qingqiu had learned about the cave, not with how he had acted.

The way Yue Qingyuan looked at him seemed to hurt and only accentuate further how Shen Qingqiu didn’t fit in this moment. How all these words weren’t something he should be hearing, didn’t deserve to hear, not in the way his mind saw in them the accusation of inadequacy, and how something inside of him was ready to growl and tear it to pieces before it could hurt him.

But there was one thing Shen Qingqiu knew: Yue Qingyuan cared. He wanted to show he cared too, in some nice and orderly way, but the only thing that Shen Qingqiu could say was a weak, “I will.”

(He probably would have to touch on the subject of their dreams one day. And the fake fortune teller being powerful enough to affect them both. Probably.)

((It wasn’t even that he didn’t want to, it’s just that… it wasn’t the right moment. And if it was the Dream Weaver, it sometimes lay dormant for years. They didn’t have to talk about it yet.))

“Shidi?” Yue Qingyuan said carefully, but there was still a small smile on his lips, something that he just couldn’t fight.

“Why is Shixiong so happy?” It’s not that Shen Qingqiu didn’t want to ask this question, but it left his mouth before he could really think about it.

Yue Qingyuan’s smile widened as he looked down. “Can’t I just be happy to see Shidi?”

“I haven’t seen you smile like this in years,” Shen Qingqiu downed the rest of his tea and placed the cup on the table.

Yue Qingyuan chuckled and placed his own cup on the table as well. “I’m just happy that Shidi decided to visit me today.”

“Does Shixiong rarely get visitors?”

“Not often, especially here.”

“Ah.” When Shen Qingqiu thought about it, then yes, truly, it wasn’t as if they got visited by other sects often, or at all, and even then between Peak Lords, to visit one another at home wasn’t something too common. It was usually only done if two people were close friends, otherwise other places to meet were preferred, like meeting halls or gardens. “The whole mountain would explode in rumors if we were seen together like this.”

Yue Qingyuan hummed a quiet agreement. “Then it’s lucky that Shidi is so careful.”

The only person Shen Qingqiu allowed himself to talk for years were the women at the brothel, and even then he had kept his distance by offering only playful questions and remarks, never fully engaging. His heart wanted to leap out and ask about every little detail, ask Yue Qingyuan how he had found Cang Qiong Mountain sect, when did he become the head disciple, how did his every night and day look like, ever since their separation. Ever since he had made his promise, a promise Shen Jiu knew not to trust, but one that had broken him as the years had progressed.

It seemed like this promise had broken Yue Qi as well. If only the promise didn’t exist they wouldn’t be sitting in tense silence like a pair of strangers.

Shen Qingqiu took the kettle in his hands, denying the propriety that said it was the job of the host, and poured them both more tea, which made Yue Qingyuan even happier, as if this was the best thing to happen to him.

And with every glance at Yue Qingyuan’s face, Shen Qingqiu felt like the slightest misstep would thrust Yue Qingyuan away, out of reach. Make him worried from a distance. Shen Qingqiu in some twisted way yearned for the days when Shen Jiu could fight everyone, prove his own worth, fight for Qi-ge, and for Qi-ge to just offer his soothing presence, his care when tending to his wounds.

Maybe if he asked nicely Liu Qingge would impale him on his sword once more, allowing them to spend together a month while having something to focus on, bringing back at least a ghost of the past. Spend it properly. If only Yue Qingyuan had told him earlier, he wouldn’t have rushed into the Ling Xi caves.

Yue Qingyuan said quietly, “I’m happy you still want to spend time with me, even though I have failed you.”

Everything inside of Shen Qingqiu stilled. He opened his fan, hiding himself from all that softness. “Zhangmen-shixiong should think better of himself.”

Yue Qingyuan tilted his head. “Why?”

“Maybe he wouldn’t be saying such foolish things then.” The fan hid his whole face.

There was only silence. Nothing answered him, but the soft sounds of fabric and creaking of wood as Yue Qingyuan shifted. Shen Qingqiu lowered his fan slightly to look at him. Yue Qingyuan seemed conflicted. “Everyone should get to act foolish sometimes.”

There was a lot of ways to reply to that, a lot of beautiful phrases and declarations, but what did they matter? He wanted to pretend that there wasn’t anything heavy between them, only foolish softness. “Even Mu-shidi?”

Yue Qingyuan’s eyes twinkled in the candlelight. “Especially Mu-shidi.” he insisted, “I believe Qi-shimei is helping him with that.”

“Oh?”

“They’ve been spending more time together recently,” Yue Qingyuan took his cup in hand and drank from it slowly, without any rush.

Shen Qingqiu shook his head and his fan dropped some more, barely shielding him. “I fear what may come out of this combination.”

“Why?”

“Either Qi-shimei is going to pull him into her ploys, or Mu-shidi is going to pull her into his experiments,” he couldn’t help but incline his head slightly towards Yue Qingyuan, as if his body wanted to get closer. “It’s hardly anything good.”

Yue Qingyuan looked at him with slightly narrowed eyes, as if he was seeing through him. “Qi-shimei doesn’t have ploys.”

“Zhangmen-shixiong can tell himself that,” Shen Qingqiu closed his fan and hid it inside his sleeve. “but it won’t change the reality.”

“Maybe the reality wants to be changed.”

Shen Qingqiu was in the process of reaching for his cup, but this phrase made him freeze, and he gaped at Yue Qingyuan. With difficulty, he smiled and brought the cup to his lips.

“Does Shidi remember when that rumor got spread about us?” This question was asked softly, carefully, as if testing the waters of what they were allowed to talk about.

Because of how weird Yue Qingyuan had always acted around him there were many rumors circulating at any given time about them. (Booklets, too.) “What rumor?”

There was something sincerely tired in Yue Qingyuan’s face. “That we had been in love with the same woman.”

Shen Qingqiu winced. “I do remember that one.”

“Every woman in our sect seemed deeply moved by it at the time.” Yue Qingyuan nodded as if agreeing with something inside of his mind.

Of course Shen Qingqiu remembered that one! He got nasty stink-eyes from every Shimei and Shijie, and whatever other woman had also heard about it! But the worst ones were those who somehow were charmed by him and this tragic story. The story? Shen Qingqiu once counted ten completely different stories circulating at the same time! Every single one had one common thing: there was a beautiful woman, both he and Yue Qingyuan fell in love with her as young teens, then she died some tragic death.

The most notable of the stories said that this imaginary woman had sacrificed herself so that Shen Jiu could live, leaving a piece of her soul in him. And Yue Qingyuan tried to talk to that one piece every time they met.

Shen Qingqiu closed his eyes and tried to shoo this memory out of his mind. “Why does Shixiong bring it up now?”

“I don’t believe I have ever told Shidi this story,” Yue Qingyuan put his cup back on the table and leaned closer to Shen Qingqiu. “There had been once organized a committee, that wanted to bring peace between us.”

Shen Qingqiu could only shake his head in disbelief.

“They had found a moment when this Yue was alone, and sincerely offered to help. It was a group of ten Xian Shu disciples. Qi-shimei among them.” Yue Qingyuan’s hands tensed in his lap, before he raised them, as if trying to explain something difficult. “I didn’t know what to do so I just… ran away.”

Shen Qingqiu let out a snort before he could stop himself. “Zhangmen-shixiong must have been so brave, facing them.”

“Well! I had no other option than to run!”

“Isn’t Shixiong supposed to be good at diplomacy?”

“But they were so sincere!”

Shen Qingqiu realized that he was smiling. It was so easy to fall into this rhythm. He raised his cup in mock-celebration and declared, “To all the Shimeis and Shijies that had tried to help the poor head disciple of Qiong Ding.”

“Qingqiu…”

“Raise your cup, Shixiong, or I will let them know.” He kept his hand in the air, and when Yue Qingyuan had reluctantly also done so, he took a sip of his tea, with Yue Qingyuan mirroring the action.

The silence filled the room again, and Shen Qingqiu felt as if they were intruding on some private moment between the silence and the candles. He fumbled with the hem of his sleeve for a moment. Maybe they just needed to tackle the awkwardness head on?

“I’m…” he searched for the second word, something appropriate, nice and distant, but all he could say was, “relieved that you had tried. To return for me.”

Yue Qingyuan’s eyes saddened when he heard that. “I have failed Shidi.”

“In a way, yes.” He fought the urge to glare and scowl, and he hesitated before saying, “But the fact you had tried changes everything.”

Yue Qingyuan shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t—” He bit his lip and exhaled. It was all supposed to be easier by now. He observed quietly as Yue Qingyuan toyed with the edge of his sleeve, pinching the fabric.

An idea seemed to enter Yue Qingyuan’s mind, as his smile took on a more quiet, private quality. “Maybe we should change places.”

“What does Shixiong mean?”

“Let’s sit on my bed instead.”

Shen Qingqiu bowed his head to hide his smile as he pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “It’s women who should be scared of you.”

“Qingqiu.” Yue Qingyuan was already standing.

“What?” Shen Qingqiu raised his head to stare at him as he smoothed his robes.

Yue Qingyuan outstretched his hand. “Come.”

And Shen Qingqiu couldn’t help but shake his head as he took the hand, and Yue Qingyuan pulled him gently to his feet, but didn’t let go, instead pulling him around the room as he put out three of the candles. Then he reached for the small plate holding the candle on the small table, carefully lifted it, and lead Shen Qingqiu to the last point of light in the room—a cupboard next to the bedroom.

He understood perfectly what he was meant to do and mirrored the motion of taking the candle.

Yue Qingyuan smiled at him, and then they passed through the open door to the bedroom. There wasn’t anything special about this room, it was very sparsely decorated, a bit ascetic in its simpleness. A mirror hung next to the window, and Shen Qingqiu could see their reflection in it.

They didn’t fit together.

Yue Qingyuan’s hand burned against his skin, and he pulled his hand free from the grasp. It was the right thing to do, but now they just stood in a bedroom holding candles. Yue Qingyuan stared at him, as if wanting to drink in every little detail about the way he moved.

Somehow it reminded Shen Qingqiu of his nights at brothels, of finding a soft looking prostitute and asking her to sing for him.

He had to get away from the suffocating feeling that enveloped him. He glanced in the mirror—his face was visibly scowling. He changed the hand holding the small plate. He felt strangely on edge. “That committee must be really jealous of me now.”

Yue Qingyuan cocked his head. “Why?”

Shen Qingqiu smirked, and walked up to the bed, placing his candle on the nightstand. He sat on the bed, as if asserting the fact of his presence. “I get to be in Zhangmen-shixiong’s bedroom.”

Yue Qingyuan placed his candle on a small bookshelf on the wall opposite of his bed. “Shidi was always special.”

The softness sparked something inside of him before he could think. “Not special enough to hear the truth.”

Only now he noticed how relaxed Yue Qingyuan had been, because he instantly tensed and became somehow smaller, as he lowered his head, the weight of guilt visibly squashing him.

Shen Qingqiu wanted to slap himself. He had to get out, before he did more damage. Something inside of him had toppled over and the avalanche it caused wasn’t anything their fragile peace could stand against.

“I—” He shook his head and glared at his feet.

“It’s okay, Qingqiu.”

“No, it’s not.”

“I should have told you.” The bed dipped as Yue Qingyuan sat next to him.

“You should have,” Shen Qingqiu agreed without taking his eyes off his feet.

Yue Qingyuan sighed.

Silence reigned over them once more, a distant yet commanding queen.

One of Yue Qingyuan’s hands was placed on the bed between them, as if helping support his weight. Shen Qingqiu placed his hand next to it, just so that their fingers brushed and he could feel its warmth. His whole being focused inside his pinky finger as it pressed itself against Yue Qingyuan’s thumb.

Yue Qingyuan looked at him in surprise, and then his face melted into a new smile.

Shen Qingqiu didn’t need Yue Qingyuan to survive, just like Shen Jiu had never needed Qi-ge in this way. Still, the thing that lived inside of him, that sometimes seemed more like a scared and angry animal, was actually just a small boy. And that boy asked through his eyes, ‘We are going to be okay, right?’

Yue Qingyuan’s grabbed his hand and squeezed. ‘Yes.’

This sincerity was dangerous, but the night felt lighter after this moment, as if some heavy curse was lifted momentarily, and they stayed like this. Nothing needed to be spoken between them, maybe it never had needed to be spoken, maybe it was alright to just enjoy silence together.

As the night progressed they slowly slumped, first against each other, then onto the bed, and before Shen Qingqiu knew it, they were lying in silence, watching flickering shadows on the walls. It was just like in their childhood—Yue Qingyuan’s bigger frame acting both as a cushion and a blanket, trapping warmth between them.

It wasn’t smart, but he let himself relax. All connected dreams be damned.

You fall asleep in a flower.
It sways in the wind.
The petals rustle
as raindrops slide against them.
You’re warm.
It will fight off the cold
for you.
The soft cushion under you
has a heart.
It drums a peaceful beat,
just for you.
It smells of the first mouthful
of water
after a hot intense day.
It sings a lullaby
just for you.

You feel your eyelids grow heavy.
The flower doesn’t mind,
it happily sways in the wind
thinking of you.

Shen Qingqiu slowly stirred. The lingering softness of his dream still wrapped snugly around him. His mind was swaying as if he were adrift on a gentle sea.

It was another dream stolen from someone capable of love—stolen from Yue Qingyuan.

This realization only made him cling more to Yue Qingyuan, whose breath brushed against his forehead, mingling with a stray strand of hair. It tickled him, and he reflexively shifted back, as if retreating from the closeness. He opened his eyes.

They were lying facing each other, with their legs intertwined, as if they had danced together during the night. Yue Qingyuan’s hair framed his face, obscuring it slightly, the guan usually holding it in place lying discarded somewhere.

He stared at his hand next to Yue Qingyuan’s. Their skin tones were distinctly different, their paleness only accentuating this fact. Yue Qingyuan had always had a certain warmness around him, as if sun had decided to kiss him as a child, and its glow had lingered ever since.

Everything about Shen Qingqiu had always been cold and severe, even his skin tone, pale as if belonging to a dead man, which, well, it fit him.

“Good morning,” Yue Qingyuan murmured, opening his eyes.

Shen Qingqiu nodded to him as he sat up on the bed, wholly withdrawing from the warmth. “I need to go back to my peak before anyone sees us.”

“I understand,” Yue Qingyuan’s voice seemed a bit too composed when he said that, almost as if he was trying to mask disappointment.

Shen Qingqiu stood up and marched to the mirror, tugging his guan free with a wince.

“Give me a comb,” he commanded into the room and extended his hand, and Yue Qingyuan rose from the bed, graceful even this early in the morning. He stepped over and opened the upmost drawer of a cabinet placed next to the mirror. Inside it were one comb and three guans.

Yue Qingyuan took the comb and placed it gently in Shen Qingqiu’s hand. The comb was cool against his palm as he started untangling his hair, trying to ignore the devotion that seemed to radiate from Yue Qingyuan. The way he looked at Shen Qingqiu said it all: he didn’t see the real Shen Qingqiu, but instead some idealized illusion.

And it was just a question of time before the illusion broke.

Shen Qingqiu fussed with his hair, making sure everything was in its place, and he placed the comb down. “Shixiong should get ready, too.”

Yue Qingyuan sighed and listened to the order.

Done with his hair, Shen Qingqiu moved to adjusting his robes, pulling them into place. It was quite late for sneaking out unnoticed, he had to make sure that if someone did see him, they wouldn’t get the wrong idea.

After securing everything was where it was supposed to be—along with the scowl on his face—he turned to Yue Qingyuan.

The morning sunlight illuminated his face, the gentle curve of his lips and eyes that were bent into happy little crescents. Shen Qingqiu didn’t think he had ever seen him this relaxed and content, yet there was a flicker of some other emotion, of deep sorrow.

The only thing he could do was scowl harder and purse his lips. Something inside of him had already started counting days until Yue Qingyuan had decided Shen Qingqiu didn’t deserve his kindness.

Yue Qingyuan walked him to his door, his smile never dropping from his lips.

As Shen Qingqiu was stepping through the threshold he turned briefly to him and said, “Have a good day, Sect Leader.”

Yue Qingyuan’s eyes widened at first, taken aback, then widened again, along with his smile and he replied with reverence, “Have a nice day, Qingqiu.”

As he walked away Shen Qingqiu had to fight a small smile, only letting it fully show on his face once he was safely flying away. His heart was beating a bit too fast, almost like when he had managed to steal tanghulu as a child.

(One memory especially came to mind, it was during autumn, on a day where they had managed to pity passers-by into giving them more money than usual.

Shen Jiu took a few coins out of their pouch. “Stay here, Qi-ge,” he commanded to the older boy, who only gave him a quizzical look.

Then, he sneaked his way to a tanghulu stand, one that Qi-ge couldn’t see over the sea of people.

He hid the coins between the layers of a small patch sewn on the front of his robes, and pushed through the throng of happy families with children. The stand owner was busy managing a big order, counting all the coins that were given to him. Shen Jiu had to be careful, if he got caught the consequences could be more than just a harsh beating. Waiting for the perfect moment he reached for two skewers.

The stall owner smiled at another customer, Shen Jiu grabbed them and…

RAN!

As he pushed his way through the crowded street he couldn’t help but smile—he was getting better at stealing and begging, meaning that he would be able to surprise Qi-ge with more sweet treats. Maybe they would be able to somehow buy themselves warm meals during winter, without the slavers learning about it.

He calmed his steps before finding Qi-ge, who shook his head when he saw the tanghulu.

“We deserve it after a long day!” Shen Jiu said while smiling and handed one of the sweets to him.

From the way Qi-ge had looked at him it was obvious the small charade didn’t convince him, but nonetheless he smiled, and said, “Xiao-Jiu, it’s dangerous to steal alone. What if they caught you?”

“Who said anything about stealing? You saw me take money with me,” he said before sinking his teeth into the sweet treat, savoring the cracking of sugar under his teeth.

“Alright. When we grow up Qi-ge will buy you as much tanghulu as you want,” Qi-ge said while shaking his head.)

The Qing Jing Peak Lord was supposed to be not only a master of the four arts, but also an excellent teacher of them. He was supposed to inspire his students to greatness in cultivation and art, to be the perfect scholars. His presence during lessons was supposed to breed admiration.

Shen Qingqiu didn’t know how to be this perfect Qing Jing Peak Lord, and neither had his Shizun. It seemed more like a myth than a guideline.

That’s why Shen Qingqiu shut himself inside the Bamboo House, avoiding his bothersome disciples and doing his best to keep his good mood intact. There always was time in the future to control everyone’s progress, and the hall masters were skilled enough to handle the daily duties by themselves.

Still, although Shen Qingqiu had chosen his favorites for the Annual Martial Arts Tournament long ago, he had to look over their charts, check whether they had slacked in their progress. It was customary, though unknown by most disciples, that the Peak Lords were betting on which students would win, which place they would take, and from which peak the winner would come.

It was also customary that the Peak Lords mostly bet on their own students. Of course, everyone had favorites. Shen Qingqiu always wondered if his Shizun had ever bet on him, but the one time he had gathered enough courage to ask—Shizun had brushed him off. Which probably meant a firm, unshaken no.

Shen Qingqiu pored over the charts, seeing only steady martial progress. Ming Fan was very… steady, reliable, but completely unsurprising. He didn’t have any shocking breakthroughs, everything happened just when it ought to. Shen Qingqiu had to stop himself from grimacing at the charts. No disappointments and no surprises from either of his disciples. Shen Qingqiu couldn’t stop his bored mind from wandering in the direction of art.

He didn’t paint often, but now his mind seemed to buzz with the need to paint something, some piece where he could trap his feelings. Nothing grand, nothing too beautiful, just a piece of paper that would tell him in the future, when his good mood ended, ‘You were alive once, you truly had felt that.’ Something he could destroy once the happiness was over.

After dinner he prepared the supplies. A piece of paper, cup of water and ink. It seemed appropriate to use the Ink Wash method, creating only with the color black, capturing the essence. His brush hovered over the piece of paper as he tried to visualize the final piece. He wanted to paint a mountain scenery, a stream flowing down a rocky cliff, with a willow tree partially obscuring the view.

His old Shizun had always liked the way he was able to control the ink in his drawings, how easily he created complex images with only a few brushstrokes. For some reason, Shen Qingqiu had always been a good imitator, easily pretending to be just like the other Qing Jing disciples when it came to art: good boys from wealthy families.

Painting had always calmed him, and made him content when it turned out the way that he wanted it to.

(When it didn’t he just ended up tearing it apart.)

Shen Qingqiu knocked on Yue Qingyuan’s door. He felt a little stupid holding the fan Yue Qingyuan had given him. It seemed a bit manipulative. It felt like exposing a weakness.

The door opened to show a stupidly happy Yue Qingyuan. “I have tanghulu.”

Shen Qingqiu blinked at him, taking a moment to process what was being said. “That’s… congratulations on obtaining it?”

Yue Qingyuan moved aside. “I know Shidi likes it.”

Shen Qingqiu shook his head in disbelief. “How did Zhangmen-shixiong even get it up the mountain?”

“It’s a secret.”

On the table in the middle of the room there was an assortment of tanghulu made of various fruit, the sweets filling four plates. The skewers piled on themselves, arranged in neat stacks. Reddish hawthorn fruit, green grapes and orange tangerine pieces shone brightly, enveloped by hard sugar. There was also the same tea set as yesterday, along with the five candles keeping the room well-lit.

They took their places by the table, across from each other, and Yue Qingyuan poured them tea.

“Zhangmen-shixiong is using sect funds to fulfill his childhood dreams? Shang-shidi isn’t going to be pleased,” Shen Qingqiu teased as he picked up a skewer with hawthorn tanghulu. He twirled it between his fingers, watching as the light glinted off the sugary coating.

“We are allowed some personal expenses,” Yue Qingyuan said lightly as he observed Shen Qingqiu. He reached down for his cup, his eyes never leaving his Shidi. As Shen Qingqiu bit into the tanghulu, Yue Qingyuan’s hand slipped slightly, tipping his cup and spilling tea all over his side of the small table. “Oh.”

Shen Qingqiu raised one eyebrow as he chewed, but was in no rush to help Yue Qingyuan as he quickly stood up to avoid the tea staining his robes. Shen Qingqiu stared at his slightly panicked expression as a slight blush spread on his cheeks.

After a moment’s hesitation, Yue Qingyuan rushed to another room. He returned with a few cloths, his movements hurried and flustered. His cheeks flushed as he focused intently on wiping up the spilled tea, avoiding eye contact as Shen Qingqiu slowly finished eating.

“Yue-Shixiong,” Shen Qingqiu raised his own cup and took a sip.

Yue Qingyuan raised his head from where he was concentrating on wiping the liquid. “Yes, Shidi?”

Shen Qingqiu placed the cup back on the table and opened his fan, hiding his face. “It’s nice to know you’re still human.”

Yue Qingyuan froze and stared at him in awe. For some absurd reason, his face only flushed further, and he quickly looked down, his hands tensing on the wet cloth.

Shen Qingqiu used his free hand to raise the plate of tanghulu closest to Yue Qingyuan. “Here,” he said gently.

Yue Qingyuan immediately returned to his task, his movements a bit more careful, as if trying to regain his usual composure. After a few more wipes he seemed satisfied with the dryness of the table, and sat comfortably to the left of Shen Qingqiu, who only raised one eyebrow at this decision.

Shen Qingqiu reached for another tanghulu, also made of hawthorn fruit. The sugar crumbled under his teeth, giving way to sharp sourness.

Yue Qingyuan propped his head on his right hand and stared at him, smiling.

“You know you’re allowed to eat?” Shen Qingqiu asked after sitting in silence for a while.

Yue Qingyuan straightened in his seat. “I do.”

“Then why isn’t Shixiong eating?” Shen Qingqiu shut his fan and gestured towards the table.

Yue Qingyuan reached for a grape tanghulu, and Shen Qingqiu recognized it as him saving the hawthorn ones for him. It made him want to challenge Yue Qingyuan, push the hawthorn tanghulus into his hands, tell him that it’s useless to pretend to care this much.

Still, he remained silent.

As he bit into another hawthorn fruit the sugar crumbled and a piece almost fell out of his mouth. His hand reflexively tried to catch it, forgetting that it still held his fan. He was stuck in a state of panic as the piece of sugar fell into his lap before rolling onto the floor.

Yue Qingyuan hid his smile with a thoughtfully placed hand. Shen Qingqiu could feel his ears burning. The Qing Jing Peak Lord was supposed to be the picture of grace.

He opened his fan and hid his face behind it, while his other hand picked the piece of sugar off the floor and put it on his plate, as one was supposed to do in situations like this.

The starving child inside of him was yelling at his body to reach for it, to not waste the sugar, to plop it into his mouth. He picked up his cup of tea instead and put it to his lips in an attempt to drown that child, but was unable to take his eyes away from the piece of sugar.

It was calling to him, whispering of hunger, of sweetness, of the last chance to eat it. There was something hypnotic about it, even as he bit into the same tanghulu it had fallen off. It bore itself deep into his mind and never stopped digging.

“Sometimes it feels wrong to waste food, even something like this,” Yue Qingyuan’s voice brought him back to reality.

Shen Qingqiu looked at him and smiled stiffly.

“It does,” he admitted aloud. It was probably the first time he had done so since entering Cang Qiong Mountain Sect. It felt as if he was acknowledging something deeper about himself, something he could only afford to deny.

.

.

.

.

.

Shen Qingqiu had no dreams that night. He accepted this simple fact with relief. After all, he knew that Yue Qingyuan had slept next to him the whole night, so this could mean the connection between them had been snapped.

Li Dongmei stopped having dreams right after her suicide attempt, and it seemed so did her mother. After that, within a few days they returned to normal.

It felt good to pretend everything was back to normal.

Shen Qingqiu even ventured out of his hiding to oversee his disciples’ sparring matches—a constant part of preparations for the yearly tournament. He observed the boys fight, all too proper, precise and predictable. Neither of them stood out. They all avoided ‘dirty’ tactics and tried not to overexert themselves, while still performing well.

That is, until Ning Yingying joined the latest winner on the green square mat lying atop the training area. The boy wiped his hands on his chest, nervously smiling at her. His eyes briefly went to Ming Fan, who protectively took a step forward in a warning.

Shen Qingqiu leaned back in his seat.

Ning Yingying bowed deeply to him. “This disciple will do her best, Shizun!”

And with this, the practice began. The boy kept looking to Shen Qingqiu, scared of being too harsh or injuring Ning Yingying. As he should be! Most of the boys gathered around the square mat held their breaths, instead of shouting the name of their favorite.

As usual, Ning Yingying easily found the weak spot of her rival, throwing him back onto the mat. Shen Qingqiu smiled at her as she bowed to him.

Next was Luo Binghe. Shen Qingqiu glared at him, lest he dared hurt Ning Yingying.

The little beast awkwardly stepped onto the training mat. He looked almost out of place, his hair slightly ruffled. Both disciples bowed, to their Shizun, to each other. The fight began, Luo Binghe stood in place, unmoving, Ning Yingying charged at him, her practice sword having a life of its own.

As soon as Luo Binghe raised his hands Ning Yingying seemingly tripped and felt right into his arms, squealing. “Ah! A-Luo!”

With this, the technical requirement for loss was fulfilled—Ning Yingying lost her balance, and her practice sword fell to the ground. Luo Binghe stared at her with wide eyes, his head turning nervously in the direction of Shen Hao, who stared back and seemed… almost proud?

Shen Qingqiu frowned. Was he trying to unite Luo Binghe and Ning Yingying? Shen Qingqiu would need to warn Ning Yingying against him. Shen Hao could hardly want anything good. But why would he be this proud? Did he know of some nefarious plans Luo Binghe had for her? But she was so young! They ought to be separated, seated far from each other during practice.

Luo Binghe managed to win the next three matches, but eventually, he too, lost.

The night came stealthily. The day stretched on and on, but Shen Qingqiu eventually forgot about the stress of the preparations. Darkness settled slowly, gently drawing a veil across the sky. The stars appeared one by one, like a maiden teasing her spectators, lifting her sleeve only a cun at a time to reveal a pale wrist. But like every spectacle—it eventually ended, at last the sleeve was raised, the clouds withdrawn, and the stars shone proudly, unhidden.

Shen Qingqiu gracefully bolted out of his house as soon as the noise from the disciple quarters quietened. It was easy to settle by Yue Qingyuan’s table, and even easier to drink tea with him. It was starting to feel familiar, and that thought put Shen Qingqiu on edge. He felt like a rug was about to be pulled from under his feet.

“At this rate we won’t finish the tanghulu before next week!” Shen Qingqiu said, hand curling around his cup. Yue Qingyuan had been observing him indulgently, and eating only a bite or two at a time, as if scared to eat too much. “Shixiong needs to help, or the food will waste.”

Yue Qingyuan nodded, gripping another skewer. Shen Qingqiu hoped he was aware that he had overdone it. Even cultivators could only stomach so much sugar. Shen Qingqiu felt as if he would need to fast all day—and refuse inedia—to be able to finish all the tanghulu by himself in one night.

The sugar had turned sticky, gluing the fruit to the plates and leaving a residue. His fingers clung to the skewer, and he had to tear them free. Afterwards, they stuck to his cup, and even his lips nearly sealed shut.

Yue Qingyuan carefully ate with him, almost apologetic. The crisp crack of sugar under their teeth was the only sound in the room. It was odd to eat something together, and even more so to do so slowly. 

Shen Qingqiu couldn’t bear the silence any longer. “Has Shixiong perhaps… told that disciple to shave his mustache?”

Yue Qingyuan stifled a smile and shook his head. “I wouldn’t take the pleasure from Shidi. Li Yi will be present during the tournament.”

Shen Qingqiu’s mouth fell open. “He is Shixiong’s responsibility. This Shidi can’t be the one managing the optics of your peak.”

Yue Qingyuan cocked his head at him, carefully buying himself time by chewing. “Then Li Yi will have to realize the hard truth by himself.”

Shen Qingqiu unfurled his fan with a frustrated click. “Teenage boys have trouble realizing truths. It could take him months.”

Yue Qingyuan sighed and toyed with an empty skewer, drawing circles on a plate with it. He bit his lip and put it back down, then said quietly, “What if the Sect Leader also grew a mustache?”

Shen Qingqiu frowned, and glared at him from behind his fan. “If it would be just as wispy, a blade may find his face at night, just to spare others the eyesore.”

Yue Qingyuan huffed a small laugh and Shen Qingqiu shifted behind his fan. It was long since he had heard his laughter. Yue Qingyuan looked at him with soft eyes. “And whose hand shall guide the blade?”

Shen Qingqiu hesitated, freezing for a moment and looking down, unsure. Then, he leaned closer. “Shixiong’s own hand would do it, unable to bear the sight.”

“Ah, of course.” Yue Qingyuan reached for more tanghulu. He smiled to himself, carefully pressing the plate down as it unstuck itself from the fruits. “But maybe some careful helper may be needed to guide it. Just so that it doesn’t cut my nose off.”

Shen Qingqiu caught his lip between his teeth, stifling a smile. He hid himself behind his fan. For a moment, he almost felt Yue Qingyuan's amusement filling him, sending warmth spreading through his cold fingers. And yet… There was a prickle in his back, in his limbs, almost as if he was being observed, seen too closely, dissected under a magnifying glass. 

He ignored it. Tried to ignore it. Tried to melt into the ease of joking with Yue Qingyuan.

The sweetness clung. His tongue felt stiff and covered with sugar, as if it itself was a tanghulu piece. He had to wet his lips to unstick them. Yue Qingyuan kept gazing at him with warmth as Shen Qingqiu raised his cup of tea. 

It didn't help.

Shen Qingqiu set his cup down carefully, as if buying himself time. The plate between them gleamed in the candlelight, half-finished, fruit glistening in hardened glaze. He leaned away from the table and stifled a yawn.

… gentle music

….a brushstroke…

…full stomach…

and laughter…

Banging. The sounds of laughter mixed with knocking on wood. Shen Qingiu blinked his eyes open and scrunched his nose. His head seemed full of gentle music. He tried to stretch but his hand was trapped under someone.

He rubbed at his eyes with his free hand, and pulled himself free.

Yue Qingyuan groaned.

The knocking repeated.

Shen Qingqiu tried to rub the sleep off his face but was unsuccessful. The sunlight filtering into the room was strong.

They had overslept.

This realization jerked him upwards. He started shaking Yue Qingyuan awake.

“Wake up,” he whispered furiously. “Wake up.”

Yue Qingyuan groaned again and scrunched his face. “What is it?”

“Someone’s knocking.”

As if on command the knocking sounded again.

Yue Qingyuan sat upright as if burned with fire. He looked at Shen Qingqiu in bewildered surprise. “I’ve told my disciples not to visit in the morning.”

Shen Qingqiu cradled his forehead as he hunched. “Great.”

Yue Qingyuan got up from his bed and started putting himself together in his mirror.

Shen Qingqiu had to hide somewhere, because if they—

If they—

If they were seen like this, together, everyone would think that booklet was true, that—

That Shen Qingqiu was weak, that he manipulated Yue Qingyuan, that he somehow—

Shen Qingqiu swallowed and calmed his breathing. “They cannot learn about me being here.”

Yue Qingyuan glanced in his direction, but immediately returned to brushing his hair. “Of course, Qingqiu.”

In this urgency something inside of him wanted to say Qi-ge, but he stomped that urge into obedience. “They absolutely cannot learn I’m here.”

Yue Qingyuan was busy tying his robes into place. “They won’t, Qingqiu.”

Shen Qingqiu looked around the room for a hiding spot. The closet was too small, the whole room almost bare. It gave him the weird sense that if Yue Qingyuan could, he would sleep on the floor. There was no way he could hide, he could only rely on Yue Qingyuan not letting the intruders see his bedroom.

His sword was leaning against the bed frame, but the tea set in the main room— He couldn’t go in there without the risk of being seen.

“You need to hide my cup,” Shen Qingqiu demanded.

“I will,” Yue Qingyuan promised while grabbing his sword and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind himself.

Shen Qingqiu rushed to the door and strained to hear everything that was happening behind them. Indeed, there was clinking of ceramic as Yue Qingyuan, supposedly, did hide the tea set. Then footsteps, opening of door.

“Qi-shimei! Liu-shidi” Yue Qingyuan seemed pleasantly surprised.

Shen Qingqiu scowled as he struggled to hear what Qi Qingqi was saying. “Zhangmen—… here to talk…”

There were footsteps, as Yue Qingyuan led his visitors inside.

“So? What’s the matter with Shen-shidi?”

“Zhangmen-shixiong must forgive this Shimei for coming in this early,” Qi Qingqi said in her usual, humble tone. Ha! This woman was always plotting something!

He strained to hear what it was this time.

“Surely the rumors about Shen-shixiong’s nightly visits have reached Zhangmen-shixiong’s ears,” her voice was full of fake concern and innocence.

There was a long stretch of silence before Yue Qingyuan answered. “There’s a lot of rumors going around.”

“I see,” was Qi Qingqi’s strained response. “The rumor going around now, as Zhangmen-shixiong surely knows, possesses a risk to our whole sect’s reputation,” she continued, as if completely ignoring that Yue Qingyuan supposedly didn’t know what she was talking about.

“If there is ever such a risk, Qi-shimei can trust this Sect Leader to act in the Sect’s best interest.”

“This one would like to point out that sometimes an intervention may be needed before things take turn for the worse.” Shen Qingqiu could hear quiet steps, as Qi Qingqi paced around the room. “Some behaviors are… atypical enough to attract the attention of outsiders. Maybe Shen-shixiong needs our support to start making more respectable choices.”

“We cannot just trust rumors,” Yue Qingyuan assured. “Shimei surely understands how they could be entirely unsupported.”

“Unsupported? Zhangmen-shixiong, it’s a child!” her voice became much more emotional and louder as she said that. “I don’t care what he does with adults,” as if! Everyone knew that Shen Qingqiu wasn’t welcome on her peak, even more than other men. “But Zhangmen-shixiong surely understands the importance of protecting children.”

“Qi-shimei, we need to hear out Shen-shidi before making any assumptions.”

There was a tense pause before Qi Qingqi pulled the supposed final move that was supposed to win Yue Qingyuan over. “Liu-shidi agrees with me.”

On command Liu Qingge cleared his throat, and Shen Qingqiu knew that their truce was about to end. “Actually this Peak Lord thinks we should give Shen-shixiong a chance to explain himself.”

Qi Qingqi gasped loudly, and Shen Qingqiu pressed one of his hands against his mouth to stop himself from making any shocked noises.

“Thank you, Liu-shidi,” Yue Qingyuan said politely, as if simply accepting some meaningless gift.

“We won’t trouble Zhangmen-shixiong any longer,” Qi Qingqi said stiffly, not entirely recovered from her defeat.

“It’s never a trouble to be visited by my sect siblings.”

Footsteps. Shen Qingqiu quickly put more distance between himself and the door and sat on the bed, as if he didn’t get up from it at all.

Yue Qingyuan opened the door with a weary sigh, and looked guiltily at him.

Shen Qingqiu stared at his fingernails, unmoved at all by Zhangmen-shixiong’s blatant favoritism. After a moment of guilty silence he finally glared at Yue Qingyuan, daring him to say something.

Yue Qingyuan smiled at him against his sadness and turned to the window. Shen Qingqiu often wondered: if it were Liu Qingge visiting prostitutes, would Yue Qingyuan cover for him? Had he been accused of visiting a prostitute as young as Xiu Ying, would he get to peacefully eat tanghulu with Yue Qingyuan? Would Qi Qingqi see the Sect Leader’s soft smile after having threatened her Shidis with death?

Most likely not.

Shen Qingqiu needed to see where Yue Qingyuan’s endless patience ended, to finally reach a punishment.

“It’s a nice weather today,” Yue Qingyuan commented.

Shen Qingqiu glared at him. “Is weather truly what Zhangmen-shixiong is concerned with?”

Yue Qingyuan’s shoulders tensed. “It is.”

“No children on your mind?”

Yue Qingyuan looked at him again, with his sad eyes, and Shen Qingqiu knew, were he any closer to him, he would be able to see that gray speck under his iris. “Please, Qingqiu…”

Shen Qingqiu smiled mockingly. “Why? Is it uncomfortable to talk about the truth?”

Yue Qingyuan shook his head. “No.”

Yue Qingyuan’s shoulders were slumped, his face slightly scrunched in a pained grimace. Almost as if the last few days were an illusion placed by some strong charm or array, that got broken by Qi Qingqi’s accusations.

Shen Qingqiu stood up from the bed.

Yue Qingyuan sighed and returned to looking out the window.

“Why not visit the brothel?!”

“I would be confirming the rumors by directly investigating. Showing I have no trust in you,” Yue Qingyuan’s voice was quieter, subdued.

So unlike the voice that had welcomed him yesterday.

“Why not? Everyone knows who Peak Lord Shen is.” Shen Qingqiu strode closer to Yue Qingyuan. “Maybe it’s time for Zhangmen-shixiong to learn as well.”

Yue Qingyuan kept looking away from him, even as his shoulders tensed. “I apologize. I can't.”

“All you do is apologize!” Shen Qingqiu glared at the other man. “How can you just—” he waved at him. Yue Qingyuan remained silent. “How can you hear all these things and ignore them?!”

“What else am I supposed to do?!” Yue Qingyuan turned to him, his voice rising as it rarely did. “You always pretend they’re true!”

Shen Qingqiu recoiled. Was this… Did he break Yue Qingyuan? Did he finally make him angry?

Yue Qingyuan shut his mouth with an audible clack. He exhaled, and reached for Shen Qingqiu’s arm.

Shen Qingqiu flinched away, out of reach. “And what if they are true?”

“Then I’m still going to protect you.” There was a special kind of intensity about Yue Qingyuan’s eyes almost as if he was asserting something he had long decided on. If Shen Qingqiu was a broken wine bottle, Yue Qingyuan in that moment was a hammer.

There must have been something showing in his face, because Yue Qingyuan softened and reached out again, saying in a voice barely louder than a whisper, “Qingqiu…”

Shen Qingqiu'ss mind was blank. He didn't move, even as Yue Qingyuan touched his wrist.

“Even if it all is true… I still want to see you smile.”

Shen Qingqiu scowled at him. “Why are you like this?”

Yue Qingyuan smiled at him. “I don’t know.”

Shen Qingqiu sighed. Maybe Yue Qingyuan wasn’t a hammer, but instead the bamboo forest inside of which he could hide as a bat. He looked out the window. It truly looked like a nice, warm day.

“You need to find me a way to get to my peak unnoticed.”

Yue Qingyuan squeezed his hand. “I will.”

It turned out easy enough, Yue Qingyuan ventured out of his house first to make sure no disciples were nearby, then he led the way through his garden, to a secluded spot, and Shen Qingqiu mounted his sword there, able to fly without anyone noticing him cutting across the sky.

Everything was so easy when they worked together.