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Yue Qingyuan knows. He looked after Shen Qingqiu during that terrible fever that ravaged through him with no warning, wiped the sweat from his brow and changed his soaked clothes. Shen Qingqiu’s fever had crawled higher and higher and YQY had been helpless to stop it, like he’d always been helpless to stop Shen Qingqiu from getting hurt.
The worst of it has Shen Qingqiu - Xiao Jiu - crying out for his Qi-ge, thrashing and whimpering. No matter how tightly Yue Qingyuan holds his hand, no matter how much qi he floods into Xiao Jiu’s meridians, Xiao Jiu does not see him, does not know he’s there. He’s lost in a world of his own pain, and Yue Qingyuan can only cradle him in his arms, sing to him like he used to as a child. His voice cracking as Xiao Jiu’s breaths start to slow, his heartbeat weakening.
The last moment (and this is what Yue Qingyuan will always believe to be the last moment, with the quiet desperation of a man who cannot bear to believe anything else) has Xiao Jiu curling suddenly into Yue Qingyuan’s arms. His eyes remain shut, and he doesn’t respond when Yue Qingyuan runs an unsteady hand through his sweat-damp hair. His breathing doesn’t stop, but the sudden numbness that scythes through Yue Qingyuan’s heart is answer enough.
Shen Qingqiu’s fever breaks. His qi continues to circulate, his heart beats strong in his chest. But when the black eyes open and a gentle stranger looks out at him, Yue Qingyuan knows Xiao Jiu is gone.
----
Yue Qingyuan watches out for the stranger. For Shen Qingqiu. He can call him by no other name. In many ways he’s enough like Xiao Jiu that Yue Qingyuan keeps second-guessing himself. How can he not, when he had felt that same heart beating sure under his palm? When Xiao Jiu’s qi hums through his meridians, as familiar as Yue Qingyuan’s own?
Shen Qingqiu smiles at Yue Qingyuan, lets him take his hand. Speaks to him for the first time in years without resentment, without spite. and perhaps Yue Qingyuan only has his own weakness to blame for how easily he lets himself believe. Enough to not ask. Enough to let him go. To let him return to Qing Jing Peak while Yue Qingyuan takes care of matters left neglected. To ignore the wrongness , that awful certainty at the back of his mind.
He leaves for the Immortal Alliance Conference with an easy smile and a heavy heart. Shen Qingqiu sees him off, his aloof expression hidden behind his fan but his eyes are warm instead of resentful, soft instead of bitterly distant. And Yue Qingyuan cannot help but linger, filling the air with inanities that Xiao Jiu would have bristled at. His most beloved person, the boy he’d longed to protect for so long the closest he’s been in Yue Qingyuan’s reach for years, not turning away from him, or brushing him aside.
For a moment, Yue Qingyuan almost gives into the urge to tug Xiao Jiu close. To tuck him against his chest where he'll always be safe and beg for his forgiveness. To promise him nothing will ever hurt him again, that of course Qi-ge will always come back for him -
Do not be impulsive. Of course, Yue Qingyuan does none of those things, says none of those things. It's not the first time he's thought of doing this, so it's not the first time he stops himself from taking that step forwards. Instead, he turns away, steps onto Xuan Su.
The green of Shen Qingqiu’s robes is the last thing Yue Qingyuan sees as he heads out of Cang Qiong Mountain.
When he returns, it’s to a sect in chaos. Yue Qingyuan’s heart goes still when he sees the smoke, the taint of demonic qi in the air. Cang Qiong Mountain is surrounded, and then he sees the pile of crumpled green silk at the entrance of Qiong Ding Hall. A body lying motionless, guarded by two figures in white silk holding demons at bay.
Xiao Jiu is in danger, and for once, Yue Qingyuan can protect him. Yue Qingyuan grips onto Xuan Su’s hilt, surges forwards.
When the battle is over and the smoke clears, Yue Qingyuan reaches for Xiao Jiu, and he does not miss Liu Qingge’s furrowed gaze as Yue Qingyuan lifts him into his arms. Once again Yue Qingyuan is left to wipe his sweat and soothe his damaged meridians, to care for him as he lies unconscious in bed. But now he’s no longer alone.
To his surprise, Liu Qingge drops by just as often on Qing Jing Peak, his gaze on Shen Qingqiu, a terse furrow between his brows. The boy who Shen Qingqiu had willingly let himself get injured for hovers incessantly by Shen Qingqiu’s room, despite the glares of Shen Qingqiu’s head disciple. With a jolt, Yue Qingyuan remembers him as the disciple that Xiao Jiu had a special hatred for. The one who got the worst punishments and beatings, and who Xiao Jiu ensured his other disciples would despise enough that he can’t sleep in the dormitories.
Liu Qingge is the one who explains it all. Yue Qingyuan pours them a cup of tea, one careful eye on any change in Shen Qingqiu's condition. Liu Qingge follows the line of his gaze, still frowning.
“We fought at the Ling Xi caves.” Liu Qingge says before Yue Qingyuan can ask him what’s on his mind. “I was going through a qi deviation, attacked him when I thought he was going to kill me.” Yue Qingyuan gives him a sharp look.
“Shidi. Explain.” Liu Qingge visibly bristles like he always does whenever Yue Qingyuan takes Shen Qingqiu’s side, but Yue Qingyuan continues glaring at him. Frustration bubbling beneath his skin given how it’s been close to two decades of exhausting every attempt to get the two people he knows to have an unparalleled capacity for loyalty to get along – all to no avail.
“I was wrong.” Liu Qingge admits. He sounds grudging, but there’s something almost wondering about Liu Qingge’s expression as he watches Shen Qingqiu sleep. “I nearly killed him, but he actually saved me instead of leaving me to die.” Yue Qingyuan has a lot of things he hates himself for, his own surprise at Liu Qingge’s pronouncement is just another one of them.
“He told me that he had given a lot of things some thought, and that he decided some changes are in order.” Liu Qingge continues as Yue Qingyuan tries to cover up the sudden tightening in his chest. Liu Qingge tears his intent gaze away from Shen Qingqiu, turns towards Yue Qingyuan.
“I guess he really does mean it,” he says, still slightly disbelieving. “You think he really can do it, though?” Yue Qingyuan takes care to smooth his expression over, so Liu Qingge doesn’t notice the sudden turmoil raging inside him.
“I can only hope Qingge-shidi has it in his heart to give him this chance.” Is all he says. All he can think of saying. Liu Qingge doesn’t scoff, or make a derisive sound as he used to do. His gaze just drifts contemplatively over to Shen Qingqiu again. Yue Qingyuan follows his gaze as he holds his cup to his lips, but try as he might he cannot taste the tea as it goes down his throat.
---
Shen Qingqiu recovers. Hazy, soft eyes open to Yue Qingyuan’s once more. Yue Qingyuan smiles, speaks words he does not hear. Expresses relief, anguish. All the time, the wrongness persists in the back of his mind. But Yue Qingyuan does not cave to it, does not grab this stranger by the shoulders to force him to tell him what is going on.
You can't be impulsive. He reminds himself. Instead, he waits. When Mu Qingfang grimly tells them about the poison that had damaged Shen Qingqiu’s meridians, Yue Qingyuan watches Shen Qingqiu’s expression carefully.
Xiao Jiu would have been furious. His anger and devastation would have crumbled into itself, exploding and cutting everyone within its reach. Shen Qingqiu is dismayed, but resigned. Perhaps even a little exasperated with himself, though Yue Qingyuan can’t figure out why. When he brings up the possibility of a remedy and Liu Qingge makes his brusque offer, he does not turn white at the insult, or rebuff the help given him. Instead, he accepts it easily. Too easily.
Yue Qingyuan smiles and expresses his gladness, his relief - every word of which he does not hear.
Roughly a week later, the Peak Lords gather in a secret meeting. Yue Qingyuan’s painfully aware of the empty seat beside him, of the equally hollow cavern in his chest as his colleagues argue and debate with themselves what could have happened to their martial brother. There is concern, there is disbelief. Mostly, there is relief. There are many, many theories, no conclusions.
Yue Qingyuan speaks as little as he can get away with, putting up token protests as the Peak Lords reach their consensus that whatever qi deviation had happened to Shen Qingqiu was for his best. And the Sect’s. Unspoken is the unanimous theirs, though Yue Qingyuan knows full well the silence is for his sake more than anything else. More than Xiao Jiu’s, whose heart he was too afraid, too angry to ever let them know.
Watching them, all Yue Qingyuan can think of is how badly he has failed Xiao Jiu, in every way a person can be failed. Though he sees Shang Qinghua glance at him, warily expectant, he keeps his silence even when the Peak Lords make their decision to not do anything, knowing there’s absolutely nothing left to be done.
Afterwards, he heads for Qing Jing Peak. Shen Qingqiu greets him cordially in the bamboo house. To Yue Qingyuan’s surprise, Luo Binghe is there. Attentive and so painfully eager to please as he serves them both. He’s bright-faced, his cheeks no longer hollowed out from hunger, his shoulders no longer hunched from pain and fear. When Shen Qingqiu passes a hand over his hair, he doesn’t flinch from an incoming blow. Instead, he soaks it up, clearly so happy to put his and Xiao Jiu’s past behind them.
Yue Qingyuan has no right to even feel it, but all of a sudden, he feels overwhelming shame. Every blow to that boy had been one on Yue Qingyuan’s conscience, yet he’d stood aside. He’d feared Xiao Jiu would hate him more by intervening. And for that, he knows there’s no absolution.
Perhaps, a small, niggling voice that has been in his ear since he watched his shidi’s fever break while unable to stifle the wrongness in his chest, this is your punishment.
“Zhangmen-shixiong?” Yue Qingyuan rouses himself from his thoughts, but not from his self-loathing. Hating himself for the lack of hate he feels, for how the knot in his chest loosens at the sight of a warmth that isn’t even Xiao Jiu’s, in his eyes, on his lips. As Yue Qingyuan receives an answer when he asks him how he is.
-------
The years pass. Shen Qingqiu raises his disciples with a gentleness they’d never known from their infamously harsh master. Among them all, it’s Luo Binghe he takes a special interest in, the one he dotes on. Shooting up like a young tree under his tutelage, and he's grown so much that Yue Qingyuan sometimes has to blink a little the increasingly rare times he sees the boy. Of course, he hears about him far more often from Shen Qingqiu's stories. His warm pride and affection shining brightly from his face, from his voice, even when he tries to hide behind his fan.
Yue Qingyuan watches over him from afar. Or tries to. It’s hard, when one exists within Shen Qingqiu’s presence. Just like now.
When Yue Qingyuan arrives at Qing Jing Peak, Shen Qingqiu’s seated by the chair out in the garden while Luo Binghe fusses about with a tea set– right up until Shen Qingqiu lazily waves his fan and tells him to sit down. This, Luo Binghe obeys happily enough. He plops down beside Shen Qingqiu, nudges his head against Shen Qingqiu’s waiting palm. And as Yue Qingyuan watches, Shen Qingqiu smiles with Xiao Jiu’s lips. His cool gaze softening, going crinkled at the corners as he pats his disciple’s hair.
Yue Qingyuan unconsciously steps forwards just as Shen Qingqiu turns fully towards him and stands, bowing in greeting before snapping his fan open again. Black eyes shine at Yue Qingyuan above the white silk -a shrouded lamp unable to hide its warmth - and Yue Qingyuan loses his breath.
Behind him, a cloud has passed over Luo Binghe’s face as he stands to attention, bowing respectfully but there’s no hiding the terse set of his shoulders. Yue Qingyuan recovers himself as quickly as he can, greets them both as Shen Qingqiu urges them inside and orders Luo Binghe to prepare tea and snacks.
He hesitates a little by the doorway, then goes inside. The feeling he has when he seats himself at Shen Qingqiu’s pointedly imperious behest is not unlike that whenever he had to steal as a child. A guilty rictus of discomfort and shame as Luo Binghe hands him a cup of tea, his mouth set and unsmiling, and Yue Qingyuan accepts it and listens to Shen Qingqiu talk about the latest demonic beast Liu Qingge had brought them. A beast whose rarity and difficulty in capturing was near-legendary, except now it was being spoiled as a pet by Qing Jing Peak’s disciples.
Ever since the Ling Xi caves incident, Liu Qingge had been spending most of his time at Cang Qiong Mountain. “It’s for the poison.” Liu Qingge had told Yue Qingyuan brusquely the one time he brought it up.
It’s for him goes unspoken. Liu Qingge does not elaborate, and Yue Qingyuan takes care to not bring it up again.
The guilt remains with him when soaks up the comfort of Shen Qingqiu’s presence. It sharpens to a suffocating weight when he’s alone, along with his shame. Afterwards, Yue Qingyuan departs Qing Jing Peak and returns to his silent residence in Qiong Ding Hall. There, he kneels before an altar he’d tucked away in his personal quarters. The bowl of offerings is always full. There is always incense burning in a stand. The memorial tablet itself remains blank and empty, more than three years uncarved.
The nights he spends after his afternoons in Qing Jing are usually sleepless ones. Yue Qingyuan spends many hours on his knees in front of a memorial tablet he still cannot bring himself to alter in any way. He never knows what he’s waiting for, here. Perhaps a sign, perhaps a haunting. He never hears anything, sees anything. It’s dawn when Yue Qingyuan gets to his feet, his knees aching from the hard stone floor, his eyes burning, but not from lack of sleep.
Perhaps his absence is how Xiao Jiu haunts him, Yue Qingyuan thinks wearily as he watches the sun rise and illuminate the sea of clouds, rays hitting their crests and dissipating the vapor to reveal Cang Qiong Mountain stirring beneath. This endless waiting, his own personal hell. It’s what Yue Qingyuan deserves, anyway, for every failure that Xiao Jiu ever bore the punishment for, every sin Yue Qingyuan ever committed. And Yue Qingyuan. Yue Qingyuan is ready and willing to pay. But perhaps that’s why he doesn’t deserve to.
He turns away just as he hears his disciples beginning to stir outside. Later, Shen Qingqiu frowns at him and asks why his eyes seem oddly strained, and Yue Qingyuan tells him not to worry. He had a late night of slogging through a mountain of reports from An Ding.
Shen Qingqiu chides him for not taking better care of his health, he’s going to give Shang-shidi a scolding when he sees him. Yue Qingyuan can’t help but smile.
One year passes. Then two. And then the Immortal Alliance Conference happens. Yue Qingyuan slaughters his way past the demons to find Shen Qingqiu, his expression horribly blank as he holds onto the pieces of Luo Binghe’s shattered sword. He only stirs when Yue Qingyuan drops to his knees beside him.
Shen Qingqiu looks up at him, his eyes red-rimmed and not seeing anything in front of him at all, and with a sickening lurch Yue Qingyuan remembers the last time he had seen that expression on Xiao Jiu’s face. Corpses all around them and a voice full of rage and hurt, asking him if he had ever come back for him.
Xiao Jiu. The name dies on Yue Qingyuan’s lips before it can escape. “Qingqiu-shidi,” he chokes out instead. Shen Qingqiu’s expression does not change. He does not let go of his disciple’s sword the entire way back home.
-------------
Shen Qingqiu does not return Zheng Yang to Wang Jian Peak. Instead, he builds a sword mound. More often than not, Yue Qingyuan finds him kneeling in front of it. Ning Yingying has developed the habit of knocking on Qiong Ding Hall’s doors to tell him her Shizun hasn’t eaten or moved all day. Again.
In the face of such overwhelming grief, all Yue Qingyuan can do is to sit with him, helpless.
I know. I know exactly how you’re feeling, he wants to tell him. But Yue Qingyuan has never been any good at using words when it matters. Instead, he sits with Shen Qingqiu in silence, and mourns alongside him.
But gradually, gradually, the light returns to Shen Qingqiu’s eyes. Muted and frail, but the first time Yue Qingyuan sees it almost a full year after the Immortal Alliance Conference has him moving towards Shen Qingqiu, far too fast.
You can't be impulsive. Only the iron self-control he had honed after the devastation at the Ling Xi caves keeps him from doing the only thing he can think to do, the one thing he wants to do, to brush his lips against the curve of Shen Qingqiu’s smile. Fragile and wan but a real smile nonetheless, and for one helpless moment, Yue Qingyuan contemplates asking Shang Qinghua if Cang Qiong Mountain’s budget can pay for extra celebratory fireworks.
Shen Qingqiu pushes through his grief, and Yue Qingyuan does everything to help him – even when it means Shen Qingqiu leaving to travel for long stretches of time. Anything is better than letting him waste away in front of the sword mound, so Yue Qingyuan stifles the heartache, keeps Shen Qingqiu well-supplied with provisions for his journeys. He sends Liu Qingge to accompany him on missions in places he knows he’ll be interested in seeing, partly to keep his meridians clear, partly for other reasons entirely.
Liu Qingge gives him a look the first time he does, but he doesn’t protest like he would have only a few years ago. Yue Qingyuan just sighs.
“Take care of him, Qingge-shidi.” He says. He knows he doesn’t need to explain anything more.
“You know I will.” Is Liu Qingge’s curt answer. As always, Liu Qingge remains true to his word. Yue Qingyuan receives letters about Shen Qingqiu’s travels, chuckles at the little mishaps he constantly gets himself and Liu Qingge into. He spends long hours before Xiao Jiu’s memorial tablet, waiting for a sign that he never receives.
Sometimes, he’s waiting when he receives word that Shen Qingqiu has sent him another letter, or that he’s returned. He gets to his feet, his legs cramping, the weight in his heart both lifting but growing heavier, aching deeper as he sees that beloved face again, those gentle eyes.
Please, can you remain by my side? He has no right to ask it, so he doesn’t. He only smiles, listens to Shen Qingqiu tell him about his trip, tells himself this is already more than he deserves.
--------
But for all his care comes the day when Yue Qingyuan fails to protect Shen Qingqiu, too.
He doesn’t recognize Luo Binghe when he first sees him after three years. He blames himself for that, after. Maybe things would have turned out differently had he done so. Or maybe not. It’s hard to tell, with demons. With the secrets he knows Shen Qingqiu holds close to his chest.
Do not be impulsive. Yue Qingyuan holds onto his calm even as cold incredulity flashes through him at the sight of the sower groveling for Shen Qingqiu’s mercy. He can see Shen Qingqiu maintaining his own composure as well, but Yue Qingyuan still sees the panic in his gaze whenever his gaze alights on Luo Binghe. The terror not even he can completely hide.
And then a vaguely familiar woman steps forwards and speaks up, looking at Shen Qingqiu and calling him Shen Jiu, and Yue Qingyuan’s world comes to a freezing halt.
The remaining color drains completely from Shen Qingqiu’s face as Qiu Haitang levels accusation after accusation after him. Charging him with the murder of her family and servants, and then his tutelage and crimes under Wu Yanzi, and Yue Qingyuan grips Xuan Su’s pommel tightly. Trying to shield Shen Qingqiu from the eyes of the cultivators with his presence, his authority, his protection.
All the while, he remembers Xiao Jiu. Wild-eyed, frantically putting a sword through his master’s chest, just to save Yue Qi’s useless life. That same ashen look on his face as he listens to Qiu Haitang denounce him. Yue Qingyuan wants to grab his arm and take him far away from this place. He wants to tuck him close against his chest, hide him away somewhere nothing and no one can ever hurt him.
Were you expecting this? Yue Qingyuan wants to tell him. To grip Shen Qingqiu’s slender shoulders and demand an explanation. He can’t let what he allowed to happen to Xiao Jiu to happen to him, he can’t. Through it all, Shen Qingqiu says nothing. Not a single word, even as his hand grips his fan tightly, his face paper-pale as he continues staring at his disciple. Luo Binghe watches his master with a strange smile on his face. Half-enigmatic, half-furious hurt, and Yue Qingyuan’s had enough.
Liu Qingge has already drawn Chen Luan, though he stands down at Yue Qingyuan’s quiet command. Yue Qingyuan steps forwards. He’s not even thinking anymore when he draws Xuan Su, and unsheathes it.
Xuan Su’s aura nearly brings people to their knees. Qiu Haitang’s legs buckle, and even the Old Palace Master winces. But before Yue Qingyuan can step forwards to fight, Shen Qingqiu quickly draws Xiu Ya and throws it at the Old Palace Master’s feet.
“Shidi!” Yue Qingyuan cries out. Loud enough to echo, but Shen Qingqiu’s expression when he faces him is resigned. Calm.
“Shixiong, there’s no need to say any more,” says Shen Qingqiu. “Those who are clean will remain clean no matter what. Qingqiu is willing to accept arrest.” Yue Qingyuan stares at him numbly.
Move. His heart cries out at him. But another voice rises up, childish and full of angry hurt. You can’t be impulsive. The memory of bright black eyes glare at him from behind the bars of a prison cell.
Shen Qingqiu bows to Yue Qingyuan, and Yue Qingyuan’s heart cracks. He does not flee, or struggle as Huan Hua Palace’s cultivators step forwards. He just glances at Luo Binghe, and keeps staring at him the whole time he’s being bound.
Move. Once again, Yue Qingyuan is forced to watch as the person he loves is taken away from him.
You can’t be impulsive. It’s what keeps him from tearing through the Water Prison to find Xiao Jiu. What keeps him playing the game of inter-sect politics as he meets with the Old Palace Master and begins negotiations. All he wants to do is take Xuan Su and slice through the old man’s throat, but he holds himself in check. The second to the last time he had been too impulsive, he had cost Xiao Jiu his legs and his freedom. The last time, he had cost him everything.
So he holds back. Right up until a terrified disciple bursts into the meeting chamber and tells them Shen Qingqiu has escaped, and over a hundred Huan Hua Palace disciples had been poisoned in his wake. Right up until he hears of the pursuit in Hua Yue City, and feels the explosion of horrifically familiar qi that tears through the air.
It dissipates far too soon. Yue Qingyuan stifles his panic as he searches for its source, ignoring the screaming in his mind, the acrid familiar certainty burning in the back of his throat. When he arrives, it’s to Qing Jing Peak’s disciples, clutching each other and weeping. Liu Qingge is holding onto his clearly broken arm, staring blankly at a puddle of blood.
One look at Liu Qingge’s drawn face, and Yue Qingyuan knows even before he speaks that once again, he’s already failed.
-------------
Liu Qingge drags himself back to fight Luo Binghe, again and again. Breaking himself, over and over for a half a decade, just for a chance to get Shen Qingqiu’s body back. Yue Qingyuan has long given up asking him to stop, to return to Cang QIong Mountain. Perhaps this is the only way he can deal with his guilt. With his grief. Yue Qingyuan isn’t about to take that away from him.
It’s not like he can let go of his own either. Shortly after Shen Qingqiu’s death, he enters seclusion. Everyday finds him at the altar, staring at the blank memorial tablet. Every day, he grinds ink onto an inkstone, prepares a brush. Everyday, he can never bring himself to paint it.
He waits for a sign. Any sign . But there is only silence, the smoke of the burning joss sticks curling upwards. Twice as much now, for two people. The memory of two sets of eyes, one looking at him in seething hurt, the other in helpless resignation. Even when Yue Qingyuan caves into sleep, their eyes haunt his dreams.
And then after five years, Yue Qingyuan’s Head Disciple rushes into Qiong Ding Hall to tell him that Liu Qingge has returned. Yue Qingyuan hurries out to meet him, sees his battered face - and his heart goes still when he sees the body he’s cradling protectively in his arms.
It’s Xiao Jiu’s body. So much smaller, just like it was during that terrible illness. But his body is cold and limp as Yue Qingyuan carefully takes him from Liu Qingge. Liu Qingge immediately lists to the side, wiping the blood pouring out of his nose. Yet he remains on guard as Yue Qingyuan quickly orders Qi Qingqi to organize a guard to protect their martial brother.
Yue Qingyuan already had a coffin prepared for Xiao Jiu. He had it built sometime after the first month, just in case Liu Qingge was able to take his body home. A set of green silk robes in his favorite shade is folded into a neat pile beside it as though waiting for their owner to put them on. But it’s Yue Qingyuan who puts them on Xiao Jiu’s corpse after washing his body, taking note of how perfectly preserved it is, the massive amounts of spiritual energy Luo Binghe must have been spent to keep it so. It’s Yue Qingyuan who lays him out inside the coffin, folding his motionless hands on his chest. His fingers press down onto Xiao Jiu’s pulse, but there’s nothing. Not even an echo.
Liu Qingge watches to the side, exhaustion ground into his features as he leans heavily against the coffin. He lifts his gaze to Yue Qingyuan’s, and Yue Qingyuan is not surprised to see the bloodshot rims of his eyes. He knows his are much the same.
It’s the only moment of respite they get, before Yang Yixuan alerts them that demons have besieged Cang Qiong Mountain. This time, Yue Qingyuan doesn’t hold back the killing intent as he grabs Xuan Su and prepares to fight.
They fight, but the demons beat them back. Cang Qiong Mountain is surrounded, but the demons do not commit further bloodshed. Yue Qingyuan is forced down, Liu Qingge pumping spiritual energy into him as Mu Qingfang hurriedly checks on his meridians and Qi Qingqiu guards all three of them.
“You are dangerously close to a qi deviation.” Mu Qingfang says. His voice quavers, just a little. Yue Qingyuan breathes in, out.
“Why is that shameless beast still around?” Qi Qingqi bursts out, Liu Mingyan behind her. Her fingers curl into fists as whispers break among the disciples. Mu Qingfang sighs.
“He wants Qingqiu-shidi’s corpse back, of course,” Mu Qingfang says. “What else can he want from us, at this point?”
“He’s not going to get it.” Liu Qingge bites out. Yue Qingyuan breathes in, and out. It’s with an iron will that he holds onto his calm when Luo Binghe strides into Qiong Ding Hall like it’s another one of his palaces.
Yue Qingyuan expects to die. For Cang Qiong Mountain to go up in flames as they fall in a war that has been long overdue. But just before Cheng Luan and Xin Mo clash together in a deadly dance, they’re stopped just as quickly by a slender figure in pale green. Horrified eyes look up, stare out at Yue Qingyuan from an achingly familiar face.
Do not be impulsive. Yue Qingyuan moves. Reaches for Xuan Su, pushing Mu Qingfang aside but once again, his protests are silenced by Shen Qingqiu’s pointed glance. His reminder that Yue Qingyuan’s duty is to Cang Qiong Mountain and its disciples, and not to Shen Qingqiu personally.
It’s too much like that awful day at Jinlan City, and once again, Yue Qingyuan is helpless to stop any of it.
As Luo Binghe takes away Shen Qingqiu, Yue Qi sees the shadow of Qiu Jianluo’s smile.
----------
He comes back, leaves again. Liu Qingge finds them, comes back alone.
“He’s with his disciple,” Liu Qingge says. “Willingly.” The breath Yue Qingyuan had been holding spills out from him, but it doesn’t ease the tight feeling in his chest. The memory of Shen Qingqiu’s hand on Luo Binghe’s, of Luo Binghe’s arm around him -
“They’re on their way to Zhao Hua Monastery.” Liu Qingge continues. Yue Qingyuan nods.
“Very well. We’ll go there as well.” Liu Qingge grunts in assent. The thundercloud does not clear from his brow, and the storm in Yue Qingyuan’s chest does not abate. The steady anger that had been building in him ever since the siege at Cang Qiong Mountain overflows, breaks.
“Qingqiu, have you had enough of hiding?” He’s speaking before he can think. Looking up to where Shen Qingqiu’s hidden with his disciple, and his expression vividly reminds Yue Qingyuan of finding a three-year old Xiao Jiu hiding out alone in a room, furtively cramming haw sweets into his mouth. The brothel’s most popular prostitute (who no one liked) had been looking for them all morning before finally giving up and sending Yue Qi to buy more, grumbling at how her customer must have taken it.
Xiao Jiu’s momentary alarm had vanished and he’d grinned, then offered half the packet to Yue Qi.
“I’m not gonna tell if you’re not.” And Yue Qi had never been able to resist that smile. They’d eaten so many their bellies ached, and the sweets were sweeter for the fact that neither of them had gotten caught.
Shen Qingqiu is not smiling now. Neither is Yue Qingyuan. The fight that takes place does nothing to distract him from his anger, his hurt , his why couldn’t you have told me? I could have, I should have protected you-
Just before the fight escalates further, Shen Qingqiu sends Luo Binghe away, then turns towards Yue Qingyuan. He bows as he offers Xiu Ya up, and Yue Qingyuan’s heart gives a painful lurch as he remembers Jinlan City. The last time he thought he’d ever see his shidi alive.
“Qingqiu had no choice but to act. I have offended you all. Please, allow my master and my martial brothers to pronounce their punishment on me.” Shen Qingqiu’s expression is nothing short of pleading, and another vivid memory rises up in Yue Qi’s mind. Xiao Jiu’s defiant, frightened face through the bars of the cage. Begging Yue Qi to step closer so he can look at his face one last time.
Just like that, Yue Qingyuan’s anger evaporates. He puts Xuan Su away, trusting Liu Qingge to guard Shen Qingqiu as he turns to placate the other cultivators with platitudes he has no intention of following through with.
And then Shen Qingqiu turns white, and he collapses. Yue Qingyuan and Liu QIngge barely catch him as he falls.
---
Once again, Yue Qingyuan tends to Shen Qingqiu as he sweats through a raging fever. Stroking his face and hair as he shivers with cold. Once again, Yue Qingyuan is left aching for him as calls out for his wayward disciple, over and over.
"I am here," Yue Qingyuan murmurs. "I'm here now, with you. You're safe." But of course, Shen Qingqiu cannot hear.
The fever breaks. Shen Qingqiu wakes. Yue Qingyuan leans back with a quiet sigh as Shen Qingqiu opens his eyes and looks around him with a fervent desperation he doesn’t even notice is on his own face.
“You kept calling for him.” Yue Qingyuan says, and Shen Qingqiu flushes but does not deny it. It’s not like he can, with his cheeks stained with tears. Yue Qingyuan has to stop himself from wiping them away, thinking of all the things he wants to ask, but has no right to.
Too soon, he has to leave Shen Qingqiu’s bedside. Too soon, the brief moment of respite ends. Cang Qiong Mountain’s disciples gape and stare in horror at the demonic Maigu Ridge. And then the Endless Abyss starts to merge with Cang Qiong Mountain.
He had wanted Shen Qingqiu to stay and recuperate at Cang Qiong Mountain at first, despite his insistence on going with them. But just as he urges Shen Qingqiu to go to relative safety at Luochan, Shen Qingqiu chooses to dig his heels in.
“I want to stay with you.” He says, and the thread of desperation in his voice that might as well be the noose that strangles Yue Qingyuan’s broken heart.
“Xiao-“ he catches himself painfully. Breathes. “Shidi. What am I going to do with you?”
Even before he’s finished the sentence, he’s already given in. He’s never been able to resist his shidi, anyway. Shen Qingqiu smiles at him, but Yue Qingyuan notices he can’t quite meet his eyes.
---
Of course Yue Qingyuan can’t keep him. Neither Xiao Jiu nor Shen Qingqiu were ever his to keep.
At Maigu Ridge, Yue Qingyuan draws Xuan Su in a futile attempt to protect Shen Qingqiu from his disciple. Even completely unsheathed with Yue Qingyuan at his full strength, it’s not enough, it’s never enough. The earth shakes all around them, and then the ground gives beneath his feet.
Xiao Jiu’s black eyes burn with panic as he reaches for him. His hands miss Yue Qingyuan’s just as he falls all the way down. But as the world falls all around them, Yue Qi feels a strange sort of peace. The peace of one who has nothing left to lose.
You cannot be impulsive. Shen Qingqiu pushes the stone crushing him, hauls him up. And Yue Qingyuan can feel Xuan Su draining his life, draining his time, and very soon whether or not his actions are too impulsive will no longer matter. And because he has nothing left to lose, he begins telling Shen Qingqiu the story of Xiao Jiu and Qi-ge.
It’s like binding a wound he hadn’t noticed was still bleeding. He tells him about Xuan Su, about being trapped in the Ling Xi caves as a consequence of his own damned impulsiveness, his own reckless desperation. He tells him about screaming himself hoarse in the caves for a year, emerging with his body in ruins and his life irrevocably bound to Xuan Su. About clawing his way to recovery, only to find a smoking devastation.
Just like he’d cared for Shen Qingqiu in what he didn’t know were already his final moments. He hadn’t been able to say goodbye, either.
There’s devastation on Shen Qingqiu’s face. Grief, so much heartbroken grief when there should be anger. There should be resentment. There should be Xiao Jiu screaming at him for never coming back because of his own impulsiveness, his own stupidity. There shouldn’t be this sorrow, this guilt that’s so like Yue Qingyuan’s own.
“During all these years, you’ve never mentioned the past. You’ve only ever called me Zhangmen-shixiong. to never call me ‘Qi-ge’” again?” he asks. Trying one last time. Searching his shidi’s expression one last time as he drags them through stone and ruin. But Shen Qingqiu does not look at him.
“I won’t.” His face is white, stricken. Yue Qingyuan had never seen his shidi’s face so bare, his heart so open for the world to see. “I didn’t hear anything you said just then. Bear it, until we get down!” And Yue Qingyuan wants to cradle that beloved face between his hands. Hold him and tell him I know, I’ve always known. I understand.
I forgive you. Stay with me, please-
I love you.
All that escapes him is a name. “Xiao Jiu, ah.” And he can’t bear to look anymore. He closes his eyes.
Shen Qingqiu does not stay. He still leaves him to save them all. Yue Qingyuan cracks open his eyes, supported by Wu Chen and Wu Wang, watches him through a haze of pain. Helpless, always so damn helpless when it matters -
Yue Qingyuan passes out. He doesn’t expect to wake.
Except he does. He cracks open one eye, then another. Hears voices. Sees walls of stone. The memory of crumbling rock has him sitting upright so fast he gets dizzy, but then Mu Qingfang’s stern hands push him back.
“It’s all right. You’re all fine. We’re at the Ling Xi caves.” Yue Qingyuan’s vision swims. He breathes in deeply, looking around him – and there. Shen Qingqiu is here. His sleeping head rests against a snow-white pillow, his chest and rising and falling with his deep, even breaths. Xiao Jiu-
No. “Qingqiu-shidi,” he whispers. He’s moving without realizing it, struggling out of his own bed, onto Shen Qingqiu’s bedside. Just like all the times before, when Xiao Jiu would get sick and Yue Qi would tend to him until he got better, Xiao Jiu reaching for him blindly and only calming down when Yue Qi wiped his sweat away.
“I’ll excuse myself.” Mu Qingfang says. “Qingge-shidi, there shouldn’t be any problems, but don’t hesitate to send Yan-shizi if anything crops up.” Yue Qingyuan barely manages to give him a distracted glance as he makes his way out.
“I fished them out of the river.” Liu Qingge speaks a few minutes after Mu Qingfang’s made himself scarce. Though Liu Qingge’s robes remain snow white, he looks more drained than he did when he brought Xiao Jiu’s body back. “His disciple’s around. Do you want me and Bai Zhan’s disciples to throw him out?” Shen Qingqiu’s hand is resting on top of the blankets. For once Yue Qingyuan allows himself the indulgence of taking it, of running a hand over the back, pressing his fingers against the beating pulse before he answers.
“That would hurt Qingqiu-shidi.” Is all Yue Qingyuan says. Liu Qingge does not reply. They’re both silent as they watch the slow rise and fall of Shen Qingqiu’s chest.
“He’s really made his choice, hasn’t he?” Liu Qingge says, his expression shuttered but Yue Qingyuan recognizes the longing he can’t hide. He feels it just as keenly, after all.
“He loves Luo Binghe.” Yue Qingyuan says. It’s answer enough. Liu Qingge doesn’t say anything else as they both watch over Shen Qingqiu.
Yue Qingyuan leaves the Ling Xi caves first, despite Mu Qingfang’s exhortations. He’s still exhausted, and it hurts down to his bones to move. But he can’t stay in the caves a second longer, though the iron weight of grief in his lungs doesn’t lift even when he inhales the chill mountain air, sees the open sky curved above him.
A shower of sparkling red and green erupts in the sky above him. Yue Qingyuan exhales, remembers a New Year’s celebration they had spent outside the brothel. It had been freezing cold, but Xiao Jiu had filched them a couple of fur-lined cloaks, refusing to tell Yue Qi where he’d gotten them. Yue Qi in turn had scrimped and saved for several months, hiding as many coins as he could from the traffickers to be able to buy Xiao Jiu and himself two big bowls of New Year dumplings and noodles, with sticks of tanghulu for dessert.
He had been beaten for not making the quota for several days – but the delight in Xiao Jiu’s face as he bit into the tanghulu first made it all worth it. Watching him that New Year’s Eve had been the purest happiness Yue Qi had ever known. He’d wanted to spend the rest of his days making Xiao Jiu smile like that, but life had other ideas.
I miss you, Xiao Jiu. Yue QIngyuan thinks. Aching, hollow. Wherever you are, I hope you’re happy. And his promises have never amounted to anything, but he finds himself making one last promise to the little boy who waited for him for so long, up until he no longer could .
When it’s time, I’ll come find you. This time I won’t fail.
He breathes out, watching his breath dissipate. Wishing it can find Xiao Jiu, where he can't. Then he hears footsteps. Yue Qingyuan turns, sees his Shidi. And Yue Qingyuan can’t help the hope that rises in his heart, despite everything. Despite his own certain grief.
“Xiao Jiu?” Shen Qingqiu smiles at him, with difficulty.
“Zhangmen-shixiong. It’s Qingqiu.” He corrects him with painful, pointed gentleness. Yue Qingyuan feels the hollow thump of want in his heart.
“Qingqiu-shidi.” He corrects himself. Every muscle in Yue Qingyuan’s body urges him to take Shen Qingqiu into his arms, hold him fast and never let him go - but it’s with well-practiced restraint that he holds back.
Impulsive. He cannot be impulsive. Never again. He holds back even as they speak, as Shen Qingqiu inquires about his health and Yue Qingyuan reassures him he’ll be all right.
You were never mine to keep. Yue Qingyuan thinks as he sees the guilt clouding Shen Qingqiu’s face, as heavy as Yue Qingyuan’s own. Still, he cannot stop himself from thinking: Of all the people in the world, I have the least right to ask this. But please, please remember –
“Shidi. Cang Qiong Mountain will always be somewhere you can turn to and come back anytime you feel tired from wandering about outside.” Yue Qingyuan says gently . He steps back, away.
He’s still smiling as he lets Shen Qingqiu go, and he does not stop himself from feeling the grief as Shen Qingqiu finds his way home in his disciple’s arms.
--------------
Shen Qingqiu returns to Cang Qiong Mountain.
He stays. So does Luo Binghe. Despite Liu Qingge’s grumbling and dire looks that Yang Yixuan is rather distressingly prone to copying, Yue Qingyuan allows him to. It does admittedly lead to amusing moments such as witnessing the time Luo Binghe qi deviated into the form of a child, though the Bai Zhan disciples have yet to listen to anyone but their Peak Lord.
Shen Qingqiu is happy. Yue Qingyuan is content.
And then, one afternoon, he invites Shen Qingqiu to Qiong Ding Hall. He’s done it plenty of times, but Shen Qingqiu must instinctively know there’s something on his mind, because even though Luo Binghe is staying with him in Qing Peak Peak, this time he comes alone. Yue Qingyuan doesn’t know what he said to his often-jealous young husband to allow him to do so, but he’s grateful.
“Zhangmen-shixiong?” His expression is questioning when he arrives. Clearly concerned, and Yue Qingyuan is oddly touched that he’s not hiding behind his fan. Yue Qingyuan smiles at him in reassurance, leads him inside. Shen Qingqiu follows.
The memorial tablet is in its altar. On it, Shen Jiu’s name shines black and bright.
Shen Qingqiu falters when he sees it, standing frozen in front of it for a long moment. But when Yue Qingyuan kneels down before it, so does he. And it’s Shen Qingqiu who lights the first joss sticks, who hands them to Yue Qingyuan before lighting his own.
Yue Qingyuan thinks of Xiao Jiu. Holding the image of the sharp, clever little boy, the angry, determined young man in his heart. He tells him he loves him. He prays he finds peace.
He says goodbye.
Beside him, Shen Qingqiu is silent, contemplative. He remains silent even when Yue Qingyuan gets to his feet after about an hour. Yue Qingyuan does not break it as Shen Qingqiu follows him out to Qiong Ding’s main hall. But Yue Qingyuan can feel his attention prickling along the back of his neck.
Abruptly, Yue Qingyuan stops, turns around. Shen Qingqiu’s soft eyes widen, but he doesn’t step back, doesn’t turn away as Yue Qingyuan kisses him.
The scent of incense is in his hair, on his skin. He tastes like tea, and sugar. A home not his. Yue Qingyuan’s knuckles brush against Shen Qingqiu’s jaw, his cheeks. Tangling gently in his hair as he crowds him against the wall, foregoing all caution, all reason as he kisses him again, and again. Shen Qingqiu reaches up to grip the folds of Yue Qingyuan’s robes. Yue Qingyuan expects to be shoved away, but Shen Qingqiu 's fingers tighten on the silk, his eyes going dark and liquid before snapping shut as Yue Qingyuan deepens the kiss. As he kisses back.
They break apart for air, breathe in each other’s space. Shen Qingqiu’s body is flushed hot, his black eyes glassy and only half-open, painfully vulnerable as Yue Qingyuan tugs their robes open, and Yue Qingyuan has no right to hold him, to trail his mouth against his jaw, to pull their bodies flush together, hand curling possessively over his hip. He has no right to grip Shen Qingqiu's erect cock in his trembling hand as he kisses the breath out of him, nearly coming at the gasp of pleasure he feels more than hears against his mouth, but he does anyway. His lips pressing feather-light against the bruises another man has left, his own cock grinding against Shen Qingqiu’s hip, and Shen Qingqiu lets him cling to him. Arching up against him, voice breaking into a shout of protest-pleasure as Yue Qingyuan sucks his own marks onto his throat. As Yue Qingyuan rocks against him, gripping bruises into Shen Qingqiu’s hips.
Shen Qingqiu's body jerks against his, his back arching, his whole body trembling as Yue Qingyuan presses up against him. His arms hooking onto Yue Qingyuan's shoulders, clinging to him for support as his legs fall open. Urging him even closer, making Yue Qingyuan quiver with need. Yue Qingyuan nudges their lips together, and Shen Qingqiu tilts his head up, kissing him so sweetly that all of Yue Qingyuan's fears, his regret and his pain fall quiet. Their rutting is graceless and unbearably tender, but Shen Qingqiu does not shove him away. Instead he holds onto him, just as closely, just as tightly as Yue Qingyuan clutches onto him. Terrified of letting him go, of losing him again.
"You won't." It's a fragile whisper against his lips. Shen Qingqiu's lips move against Yue Qingyuan's in words he can't hear. His arms tighten further around him, as Shen Qingqiu's legs hook around his waist. And Yue Qingyuan shudders, thrusts against Shen Qingqiu as he arches up in his grip. Yue Qingyuan's spend pouring out of him, staining Shen Qingqiu’s skin, Shen Qingqiu finishing with his own muffled groan. His quivering body going taut, then limp. His legs completely giving way beneath him as he crumples in Yue Qingyuan’s hold, pulling Yue Qingyuan on top of him as they lose their balance.
They slump together against the wall, in a tangle of limbs and sweat and sticky come. Breathing harshly, near-numb with the after-echoes of pleasure as Yue Qingyuan kisses Shen Qingqiu one last time, resting their foreheads together and holding his guilt-stricken gaze with his own.
Only when Shen Qingqiu’s fingers brush against his cheeks does Yue Qingyuan feel his own tears.