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The tea in Shen Qingqiu’s cup has gone cold. 

These meetings always go on too long. The various elders on Cang Qiong mountain meet privately several times a year to discuss sect matters. Politics and accounting. Shen Qingqiu is quick with numbers so he already gave his input earlier, as soon as he could. He always makes sure to speak first to get his piece out of the way, so he can quietly fade into the background for the rest of it. The other elders see him as lazy because of this, he’s sure. They give him sour looks because he has been quiet for more than half the meeting, sipping tea and fanning himself. Oftentimes they forget he’s there, only remembering him when he enters their line of sight. Then they fume indignantly about his lack of participation. 

Shen Qingqiu meets their sour looks with an indifferent sniff. He keeps his mouth shut and sips his tea. 

Because at the end of the day, he would much rather have a sour look than…

“Do you have anything to add, Elder Shen?” Liu Qingge asks. His voice is loud and accusatory.

Shen Qingqiu shakes his head. “Not at this time,” he answers. “I believe the elders have handled matters as brilliantly as ever, Liu-shidi. Don’t you?” 

Called out, words twisted, Liu Qingge huffs and looks away. It would be very difficult for him to answer negatively to such a broad question. He would run the risk of looking contrary and uncooperative. 

Shen Qingqiu knows that. He’s counting on it. 

Indeed, Liu Qingge screws his mouth shut and the talk proceeds onto other matters. 

Good. Shen Qingqiu’s gambit has proven successful yet again. 

During these meetings, he calculates his performances to the best of his ability. He pretends to be indifferent towards political matters outside of these meetings as well, so that no one questions him. He’s made it part of his personality. ‘Elder Shen does not care for the goings on of Cang Qiong mountain,’ the others say. It’s a known thing.

And part of that is true. Shen Qingqiu is not naturally invested in the way Cang Qiong mountain conducts itself in front of the other sects. However, he does have some professional pride. He might care more about Cang Qiong’s political affairs, except…

Shen Qingqiu would prefer to put on this indifferent act every day for the rest of his life rather than allow the other elders to know the truth. The reason why he has to pretend. 

That reason is something Shen Qingqiu plans to take to his grave.

Even though it is extremely simple. Laughably, painfully simple. 

The acoustics in this meeting hall are terrible! Stone walls and wooden chairs. With so many voices floating around, the speech is very difficult for Shen Qingqiu to follow. He makes sure to sit with his back to the wall, keeping Liu Qingge on his left and Qi Qingqi on his right. Arranging himself this way gives him the best chance. For most of the meeting, Shen Qingqiu has to focus his line of sight on the moving mouths of the people around him. With so many mouths speaking all at once, he cannot possibly read everything that’s being said. There is no foolproof method. So he just sits quietly. 

Silence is better than honesty, Shen Qingqiu believes. Although he lives in fear of silence.

Honesty means Shen Qingqiu would have to admit the fact that he has been losing his hearing for the last twenty years.

It happened when he was a boy. As a slave in the Qiu manor, Shen Jiu suffered many terrible abuses. Torments. Things he also prefers to leave in the past. The biggest secret, however, is the manner in which he escaped. The murders. The fire. The way he fought and killed and barely managed to worm his way to freedom. 

Unfortunately, he did not manage to escape unharmed. 

After stabbing Qiu Jianluo several times, Shen Jiu turned his back to him and tried to run—only for Qiu Jianluo to pick up the nearest weapon he could find (a metal fire poker) and hit Shen Jiu in the back of the head as hard as he could. He used the blunt side, thankfully, but it was a hell of a hit. The last ditch effort of a dying man. Qiu Jianluo put every ounce of his remaining life force into that blow—and it changed Shen Jiu’s life forever. 

That bastard. 

As soon as he was hit, Shen Jiu felt a sharp pang in both ears. A pang and then a pop, he recalls. Like a pinprick stuck in the side of a bladder full of water. Profound, succinct pain followed by a trickling flow. 

Because his body was suffused with so much adrenaline, Shen Jiu did not think twice about his own pain. He was in a state of panic. He rounded on Qiu Jianluo and finished the job, making sure the light left that creature’s eyes. Then he did the same to the rest of the house. He could hear nothing but an unnatural ringing in both ears, so he had to rely on sight and instinct in order to survive. 

Shen Qingqiu remembers everything from that night. Everything. The sensory information is stored somewhere deep in his bones. A wet film that lives inside of him, just waiting for the chance to come out and sit on Shen Qingiqu’s flesh like a second skin. He remembers the heat of the fire, the taste of ash in his mouth. The way his eyes stung from all the smoke. He remembers the smell of wood burning as the manor came tumbling down. He remembers the liquid feeling of blood staining his front, the squishiness of it on his hands as he held that sword for dear life. And he remembers Wu Yanzi coming up behind him to offer a way out, whose voice he could barely hear over the ringing in his ears. 

Once he cleaned all the blood out of his ears, some sound returned. However the ringing in his left ear never went away. For the rest of his boyhood, he relied on his right ear to hear clearly. Even then, he often had to ask Wu Yanzi to repeat himself. He thought that the old man spoke with marbles in his mouth, that perhaps he had a speech impediment of some kind. When he met other people—everyone else—who spoke the same way, it finally occurred to Shen Jiu that Wu Yanzi was not the one with the problem. 

He stopped asking people to repeat themselves. He prayed his left ear would heal on its own. He learned to live with the constant ringing and taught himself to read lips (quite well, in fact). With these skills along with the hearing in his right ear, he could live without focusing on the problem too much. It wasn’t such a hindrance. He had more pressing things to worry about. Like survival.  

By the time he became a disciple in Cang Qiong mountain, the ringing had stopped. Yet the sound did not return. On his left side, all sounds came to him as if through water. Muffled and distant. Distorted muttering and vague echoes. He could not use that ear functionally anymore. At first, he found it difficult to master his frustration over this, but…it was fine! He could get by! Even when the sound in that ear went away completely, it was fine. He turned his face to the left when people spoke to him, surreptitiously giving them his right ear to speak into. This was enough, he told himself. More than enough.

Until he became the Qing Jing peak lord. Around that time, the hearing in his right ear began to deteriorate in the same way. At first there was ringing, on and off. Then muffled muttering. Dense cotton between him and the rest of the world, dampening all noise. 

He knows what comes next: Silence.

That was when the fear set in. 

If he can’t hear anything at all, then…how will he protect himself?

No. Shen Qingqiu will not give in to panic. He doesn’t have the luxury! He must continue life as usual, keeping his secret to himself. No one can find out, otherwise they will attempt to take advantage of him. 

Shen Qingqiu knows one indisputable fact about people in this world: They use your weaknesses to their advantage. Even the elders on Cang Qiong mountain. Even Yue Qingyuan. Even Mu Qingfang—whom he definitely will not approach for medical advice! First of all, he already knows the answer any healer will give him: The damage is irreversible. If it weren’t, Shen Qingqiu’s cultivation would have taken care of it naturally by now (and it’s not like he hasn’t researched it on his own, he has, to no avail). Not only that, if Mu Qingfang knows, he would be obligated to tell the others…which is out of the question. Unthinkable. 

If they know Shen Qingqiu is going deaf, they will certainly try to take his title away from him. Usurp him. Tell him to retire and go live alone in the woods somewhere, or something. They will take everything Shen Qingqiu has worked so hard for—a home, a place he can live with dignity, and a name that others respect. 

He will not allow anyone to take these things from him. Not if he has any say in the matter. He will fight, like he’s always fought, and hold onto his life’s earnings as long as he can.

If Shen Qingqiu must walk this path, then fine. He will. He will play the hand he was dealt. He will keep his head high and walk wherever fate has decided to throw him. 

And he will walk alone. 

It’s been years. Shen Qingqiu’s hearing has only gotten worse. If he stands or sits next to a solid object, like a wall or a tree, he is completely deaf. Instead of water or cotton, he is surrounded by thick lead that absorbs every vibration around him, leaving pure silence in its wake. So Shen Qingqiu always sits with his back to the wall. He keeps Liu Qingge on his left side because that man has the loudest voice (he’s secretly quite fond of Liu Qingge for this reason). He keeps Qi Qingqi on his right because she is the only woman. Women’s voices are becoming nearly impossible for Shen Qingqiu to hear clearly. When they speak, he hears nothing but soft tinkling sounds. Bell chimes in the wind. The only hope he has of hearing Qi Qingqi is if she sits close to him, on his right side, where the last vestiges of his hearing still remain.

The rest of the time, he relies on lip reading and tries painstakingly to decipher the muffled mutterings going on around him. He still turns his head to the left, more habit than anything, though it sometimes helps. If he can, he moves closer to people when they speak. Proximity is better than volume. Thankfully the women in the brothel have no problem letting him rest his head on their shoulders when they speak. It is quite reassuring. 

Everything else is an act. A gambit. A roll of the dice. 

He does the best he can.

He brushes his teacup with its lid, trying to will away the panic settling in his stomach. Sediment falling into place inside of him. If he looks away for a second and loses context, he is lost. He has no way of knowing what the other peak lords are saying. If it is about him, something important or dangerous, how would he know? 

He prays for this meeting to end quickly. 

When it finally does, he hurries to the door. Today was very difficult. He lost the plot hours ago and has been sitting in complete confusion ever since. Relying on his coquettish smile and the lackadaisical turn of his fan to speak for him. After such a long time with no clue what was going on, Shen Qingqiu can’t fight the paranoia rising in the back of his head. 

Has he made any mistakes? What if they are starting to see through his lies? Have they been speaking badly about him this whole time, throwing dirt on his name in a way that he cannot defend? It’s happened before! Yue Qingyuan often comes to his aid when Shen Qingqiu is suspiciously silent (assuming that his shidi is too overcome with emotion to answer, which is not the case). But Yue Qingyuan brings his own host of problems—

“Shidi. Wait a moment, please.” 

Shen Qingqiu nearly jumps out of his skin. Yue Qingyuan touched his shoulder—he didn’t hear him walking towards him! It startles the absolute hell out of him to be touched out of the blue like that. So before Yue Qingyuan can even get a word in, Shen Qingqiu already has an arm out to defend himself. Shoving him away, putting distance in between them. 

Yue Qingyuan is deeply hurt. His gray eyes are wide and watery. “Shidi…my apologies, have I offended you in some way?” 

Oh, please. Why do they have to get into this now? Qi-ge has the worst timing! Always has.

Heart racing, Shen Qingqiu drops his arm. “No, not at all, Zhangmen-shixiong. I just wasn’t expecting you to approach me so suddenly.”

“Suddenly?” Yue Qingyuan narrows his eyes in confusion. “But, shidi, I was calling out to you…I’ve been trying to get your attention for a while.” 

Ah. 

Fighting a new swell of panic, Shen Qingqiu glances around to check if they have an audience. They do, of course, though interest is waning as people move on to other things. Better finish this conversation as quickly as possible.

“Never mind, shixiong. Tell me, what do you wish to discuss?” Blunt and to the point, Shen Qingqiu fans himself to project an aura of calmness. 

“I was wondering what you thought about what I said in the meeting. As far as Qing Jing’s involvement in…” 

As soon as the conversation starts, Shen Qingqiu is lost again. This is the problem with Yue Qingyuan! He speaks in such a soft voice, in a register that sounds like sand scraping against shells at the bottom of the ocean. A pleasant sound, but still. Shen Qingqiu can’t make heads or tails of his words. Not only that, Yue Qingyuan’s jaw is unnaturally tight when he speaks. Most of the movement comes from his top lip while the bottom is uncommonly still. So Shen Qingqiu can’t read his lips either.

Nine times out of ten, Shen Qingqiu has no idea what Yue Qingyuan is saying. It’s gotten worse over the years. Now it’s worse than ever! He’s always felt as if he and Yue Qingyuan were speaking a different language—they assume things of one another that neither intended, things that were never in the cards—but these days it feels too literal for comfort.

He hasn’t understood a word out of Qi-ge’s mouth in a very long time.

“…the disciples…not you…but how…one more time…?” These are the only words Shen Qingqiu can understand. No substance, just the most common words he’s used to reading that are perhaps not even correct in this instance.

Yet Yue Qingyuan is looking at him with a question on his face. Expecting him to answer.

Shen Qingqiu considers shuffling closer and asking him to repeat himself. That might give him a slightly better chance of understanding, though only slightly…

No. Not today. Shen Qingqiu is tired. He is irritated and on edge. He doesn’t have the patience to pick apart Yue Qingyuan’s odd way of speaking and try to make it make sense. He doesn’t want to deal with the tight feeling of regret he gets whenever he has another failed conversation with Qi-ge. The guilt, the distance, the old wounds. It’s too much right now. 

He waves his hand and turns away. “I’m sure Zhangmen-shixiong has the right approach. I trust your judgment in these matters.” 

Yue Qingyuan looks sorely disappointed. “But shidi—”

“Please excuse me, Yue-zongzhu,” Shen Qingqiu interrupts. “I feel the need to spend time in solitude, meditating to regain my strength. I shall meditate on these matters as well.” 

“I see…” Yue Qingyuan says something else, but since Shen Qingqiu is not looking at him, he has no hope of understanding.

It’s just as well.

“Good evening, Yue-zongzhu.” 

He doesn’t need to turn around to see the hurt on his Qi-ge’s face. He can feel it on his back. In his heart. He knows Qi-ge is just as frustrated by their lack of communication. He knows they are both struggling to find solid ground with each other, even after all these years. 

He knows that. But there is nothing Shen Qingqiu can do to fix it. Even if he magically found some way to fix his hearing, would they be able to sit down next to each other and have a decent conversation? 

Probably not.

That said, Shen Qingqiu doesn’t bear any ill will towards Yue Qingyuan. He would prefer if the man just left him alone. Let Xiao Jiu rot away in solitude. Qi-ge should go find a wife. Make lots of babies. Live his life to the fullest, as a man of his caliber should. These are the things Shen Qingqiu would tell him to do if he could. If he only had the courage. 

As it is, he makes the journey back to Qing Jing peak alone. Walking on his own two feet. 

At the base of the mountain, he notices something strange. It is late autumn, so the leaves have fallen from the trees. Red and orange leaves brush the gravel in the path. They dance in the wind, mixing with each other. 

But Shen Qingqiu cannot hear them. He knows from experience that leaves make a distinct rustling sound when they blow across the ground like that. Yet the sound is not there. Instead there is nothing. Just the leaves themselves. Shen Qingqiu can see the sight quite clearly—as well as he can see anything—so his memory is telling him this is wrong. There should be sound…

There isn’t. There isn’t anything anymore. The world around him is utterly quiet. Unknowable. Somehow distant, as if running away from him. 

Shen Qingqiu takes a deep breath. He keeps walking. Keeps moving forward. 

His bamboo house is waiting for him. 

____________________________

“Knees further apart. Back straight.” 

Formation practice. Shen Qingqiu finds these exercises incredibly dull, more unbearable with each passing year. He was probably never meant to be a teacher—he doesn’t have the patience for it! But what else could he aspire to be once he reached this level of cultivation? There were no other choices. 

“You. Who taught you this stance?” 

As usual, he singles out Luo Binghe. That one. The kid who never fails to get under Shen Qingqiu’s skin. Immediately. As soon as he sees him, Shen Qingqiu can feel a burn in the back of his throat. An anger he finds very difficult to control. 

“What sort of a stance is that?” he spits at Luo Binghe, gesturing at his legs with the bamboo stick he uses to correct the stances of his disciples. 

Trained not to respond right away, Luo Binghe stares straight ahead. 

“Answer me,” Shen Qingqiu growls. He knows he taught Luo Binghe to stay silent while getting berated, but that doesn’t mean he likes being ignored either! Who does this brat think he is—

“This disciple…!” Luo Binghe hurries to respond, keeping his stance as tight as he can. “This lowly disciple learned it from the manual shizun gave me.”

Right. That. A few years ago he and Ming Fan intentionally gave Luo Binghe the wrong manual. Originally Shen Qingqiu found it amusing to watch Luo Binghe suffer through stances that made no sense. Attempting moves that were nonsensical and doomed from the start.

But that was then. This is now. Shen Qingqiu has no amusement left (for anything, especially for childish pranks). Shouldn’t Luo Binghe have realized at this point that he has the wrong manual? That his moves are noticeably different from everyone else’s? 

Tiresome.

Shen Qingqiu whacks the back of Luo Binghe’s thighs with the stick. “Enough nonsense,” he hisses. “Look around you! Mirror the stances of your martial siblings.” 

“Yes, shizun.” 

Observing the others, Luo Binghe quickly attempts to copy what they’re doing. It’s his first attempt—but it’s all wrong. 

“No, no, no.” Shen Qingqiu’s anger rises. He feels it pushing against his tongue like a tidal wave of magma. Bearing down menacingly on Luo Binghe. “Where exactly are you putting your feet? How can you maintain control of your qi from such a stance?” 

He hits Luo Binghe with the stick again. Harder than last time, harder than he ever hits anyone else. This time on Luo Binghe’s shoulders and shins. 

Grunting from pain, Luo Binghe hurries to comply. He settles into a deep stance, never once looking at Shen Qingqiu. As he’s been trained, he just takes it. 

Luo Binghe always takes it. All of Shen Qingqiu’s abuse. The beatings, the punishments, the inequitably harsh treatment. Luo Binghe takes it all without a word of complaint. At the end of today, he’ll probably thank Shen Qingqiu for his tutelage! 

This kid is really…

“Your feet are still pointing the wrong way.” Overcome with a hot rush of anger and disgust, Shen Qingqiu sweeps Luo Binghe’s ankle, knocking him to the ground. Right on his ass.

Shen Qingqiu can’t hear the sound Luo Binghe makes when he hits the ground, but he can feel the vibrations in his feet. That kid went down hard. He doesn’t have good balance, so he wasn’t able to catch himself. Why is he so clueless? What a nuisance! 

But he’s here to learn, a voice inside Shen Qingqiu’s heart says. He came to Cang Qiong Mountain so you could teach him.

Yes, yes. That’s true. Alright. 

As always, after that rush of anger leaves him, Shen Qingqiu feels an uncomfortable surge of guilt. He realizes he was in the wrong, that he treated Luo Binghe unfairly. That he’s behaved in a way that is unworthy of a shizun. He realizes everything far too late. 

Why does the clarity only come after he’s already lost control of his temper? Why can’t he keep his right mind intact when he’s in the moment?

It’s just the way he is. Luo Binghe unearths a level of rage inside Shen Qingqiu like no other.

Sighing, ashamed of himself but too proud to show it, Shen Qingqiu stalks away. He sits underneath the canopy, where Ming Fan is waiting with a cool drink. Perhaps water will help him calm down. He can sit and watch the disciples from here. 

He sips the drink. Takes a deep breath. Exhales outward. Expels all the accumulated negativity that came out in full force when he was dealing with Luo Binghe. As usual, Luo Binghe is back on his feet, reassuming the stance. He is going through the motions as if nothing happened. 

The kid has stamina. That’s one thing you can say about him.

Actually, you can say a lot of objectively good things about Luo Binghe. His cultivation instincts are good. He’s a fast learner. He picks up on tricks quicker than anyone else. His skills have improved dramatically in spite of having the wrong manual, with no help from the other disciples. 

Luo Binghe is a natural. No doubt about it.

And that’s the reason Shen Qingqiu can’t stand him. He knew Luo Binghe would be a prodigy the moment they met. The kid was teeming with unspent energy, an abundance of qi that could be honed into a marvelous weapon. Luo Binghe is destined for greatness. Anyone at the level of midcore formation can see it plain as day. 

Shen Qingqiu can’t help being jealous. He knows it’s wrong. But he believes he used to have the same level of qi that Luo Binghe has—or close to it. He could have had that level…if he had been allowed to cultivate it! Instead, he went through hell at the hands of slave traders, perverts, and thieves. His body is broken now. Forever blocked from reaching its fullest extent. Shen Qingqiu can’t control his destiny the way Luo Binghe can. In the end, he’s going to be alone, bitter, useless, with a defective core that cannot sustain itself properly, diminished spiritual capacity…and silence. The silence that’s haunted him for the last twenty years. 

That’s his fate. 

A decrepit old man clinging pointlessly to a life that was never really his own. Shen Qingqiu was never meant to get this far. He won’t be able to hold onto this life forever.

He knows this. But that doesn’t help! Knowing doesn’t change anything! The only thing he gets from this knowledge is…

That hot rage. Honestly, Shen Qingqiu is scared by the depths of his own anger. His fear. His deep hatred for himself and his inefficacy. This rage burns him from the inside out. Like a scourge.

Shen Qingqiu loses control more and more each day. He can’t keep his bitterness to himself anymore. In the end, he will always take it out on Luo Binghe specifically.

It’s not that kid’s fault. He knows that, too. Shen Qingqiu’s fate is not Luo Binghe’s doing. It was all decided before that beast was even born. 

Shen Qingqiu needs to stop. He needs to be better. He needs to get a hold of himself and stop giving in to the pettiness and dissatisfaction that has become part of his everyday existence. 

He needs to. He has to. 

Otherwise…what the hell does that make him?

When the day is done, Shen Qingqiu adjourns his disciples with a stern reminder to practice their forms as often as they can. Then he calls Ning Yingying to the front of the group.

“If any disciple is sore from today’s practice,” he tells her loudly. “If they sustained injuries due to carelessness or overwork, they should use this.” He puts a cask of soothing balm in her hand. It’s a muscle relaxant that heals bruises. He even gives instructions on how to use it, “Apply it once at night and once in the morning.” 

Ning Yingying smiles, knowing exactly who it is meant for. “Yes, shizun,” she says with a bow.

“Hmph. Very well then.” 

He stalks away, fanning himself with his head held high. If his ramrod-straight back is all he has in the end, then so be it. 

A certain distance away, he allows himself to turn around. Ning Yingying is giving the balm to Luo Binghe, just as Shen Qingqiu intended. At first Luo Binghe shakes his head, nervous. But Ning Yingying insists, nodding over and over. Slowly, Luo Binghe takes the cask and cradles it against his chest. As if it’s the most precious thing he’s ever received. 

Good. Something in Shen Qingqiu’s heart breathes a tiny sigh of relief. 

Then, unexpectedly, Luo Binghe turns around and meets Shen Qingqiu’s gaze dead on. He somehow managed to catch his shizun staring—even though there was a significant distance between them! How did he—?

Flustered, intensely annoyed, Shen Qingqiu storms off. Back to the bamboo house. He’ll pretend like nothing happened. He wasn’t staring at Luo Binghe. He doesn’t care! If asked, he’ll say that balm was meant for anyone. Ning Yingying just happened to give it to Luo Binghe because she likes him. That’s all! 

He won’t concern himself too much with that brat. 

________________________________

Nighttime finds Shen Qingqiu engaged in the same activities he does every night. The only comfort he can give himself these days.

He packs his pipe full of the herbs he bought in town, relaxants and mood alterers. A few long, drawn out puffs put him in a better state of mind. Contemplative. Calm. With a tall glass of plum wine in one hand and his pipe in the other, Shen Qingqiu usually manages to achieve a state of mental equilibrium. Enough to fall asleep, at least. Which is the best reprieve he can think of. 

He doesn’t have concrete dreams. Or if he does, the specifics are gone by the time he wakes. He just remembers colors. High-toned, bright blues and reds. Silks fluttering past his face. There is something very relaxing about these dreams. He looks forward to them. 

Sinking deep into his seat on the floor, legs crossed, Shen Qingqiu allows himself to relax. Relax, relax, relax. Focus on nothing but the silks…

Vibrations travel to his backside through the floor. Short stomps. Like someone walking—

He jolts in surprise and whirls around to face his intruder. Nearly choking on smoke in the process! 

It’s Luo Binghe! 

“You!” Enraged, completely caught off guard, Shen Qingqiu hastily extinguishes his pipe and waves a hand in front of his face to dissipate the smoke. “What on earth are you doing here!” 

Luo Binghe—out of place with his dirty disciple robes and unkempt hair against the backdrop of Shen Qingqiu’s house—holds up a tray. “Pardon my intrusion, shizun. This disciple came to offer you some tea.” 

What the hell! Luo Binghe has never done this before! He invited himself inside Shen Qingqiu’s house, opened the door on his own without any warning…! What kind of game is he playing?

“Ridiculous!” He coughs, still recovering from his shock. “Who let you in here? Didn’t anyone teach you to knock before barging into someone’s home?” 

Luo Binghe sets the tray down on the table. “My apologies. I was knocking for a while, though. And calling out to you. I saw that you were in here but you weren’t answering. So I let myself in.” 

Steam rises from the top of Shen Qingqiu’s head. How dare he! So bold! 

If Luo Binghe was calling and knocking for that long, did he realize that Shen Qingqiu couldn’t hear him? Is he working on some hypothesis in that beastly head of his…? 

Angry beyond belief, Shen Qingqiu wants to pour tea on this kid’s head again. He settles for picking up a teacup and tossing it across the room. It smashes against the wall. 

“Get the hell out,” he growls. “Now.” 

Luo Binghe ducks automatically. But he quickly recovers. Instead of leaving, he scoots closer to Shen Qingqiu, still on his knees. “Shizun, is everything alright?” 

“I said get out!” Why is this brat not listening? 

“Okay, okay, as you command. I know shizun enjoys his private time, but this disciple just wanted to say…” He reaches into his robes and pulls out the cask from earlier. “Thank you for this. It healed my bruises…” 

He starts speaking rapidly in a way that Shen Qingqiu cannot understand. Which is frustrating. Normally this brat speaks in a loud, even tone, with clear, natural mouth movements that make his lips easy to read. Why is he stuttering all of a sudden? 

Clicking his teeth in aggravation, Shen Qingqiu stops him with a wave of his hand. “Enough. It was nothing. Ning Yingying gave it to you, but…that was…” Wait, what was his excuse again? The smoke and wine have muddled Shen Qingqiu’s brains and he can’t remember what he was supposed to say if confronted with the truth.

“Yes. Shijie said it was meant for me.” Luo Binghe bows his head. He says something else, but because he’s looking at the ground, his speech is unintelligible to Shen Qingqiu. 

For whatever reason, Shen Qingqiu feels like he’s being made to look like a fool. He can’t stand this kind of treatment! 

He slams his hand on the table. “Look at me when you’re talking, you—ugh!” 

Flinching, Luo Binghe raises his head. “I will, shizun. My apologies. I’ll be more careful from now on.” 

As always, Shen Qingqiu’s moment of rage subsides into a drawn out plateau of discomfort and shame. He rubs his temples. Great. Since he smoked so much and was unable to relax, the herbs are giving him a headache.

Now they’re just staring at each other. Awkwardly. 

Luo Binghe glances at the glass of plum wine. “Oh, does shizun prefer to drink wine at night? That’s fine. This disciple can bring you wine in the evening if that serves you better than tea.” 

Shen Qingqiu frowns. “How would you get your hands on wine, you fool?” 

“This disciple has his ways.” What is that smile on Luo Binghe’s face? Knowing, slightly mischievous!

This kid is too smart for his own good. Shen Qingqiu feels uneasy. 

“So plum wine, right? Sweet and light?” Luo Binghe takes the glass and sniffs it, confirming his suspicions. “Got it. I’ll bring you some tomorrow, shizun. Thank you again for today. Good night.” 

He stands up with a bow. For the first time, Shen Qingqiu notices how tall Luo Binghe has gotten. He’s not a little kid anymore. How old is he now, seventeen or eighteen? It’s been a few years since he came to Cang Qiong Mountain…he’s probably eighteen. When did he get so big? His chest is bulky and his shoulders are broad. He still walks with that same unconfident gait, but his back is straight. 

Luo Binghe is getting older. Hmm.

When Shen Qingqiu is finally alone again, he takes a long sip of wine. 

How is it possible that the kid got even stickier as he aged? 

______________________________

True to his word, Luo Binghe returns the following night with an earthen jar of plum wine. And the following night, and the night after that. It becomes a habit. Every night he brings a gift of wine. He pours for his shizun, then he bows and makes an exit. That’s all. 

Shen Qingqiu doesn’t ask where he gets the jars. He doesn’t want to know. Wine consumption is not prohibited on Cang Qiong Mountain, but it’s not celebrated either. If the other elders knew Shen Qingqiu was accepting gifts like these from a disciple, well. They would have a lot to say about it.

But Shen Qingqiu doesn’t care. The wine tastes good! It’s well-aged, stronger than what he normally buys. To be honest, it’s even better than the wine they serve in the brothels. Most nights, he only needs a glass or two to feel comfortably buzzed. Relaxed, placated, and able to fall asleep. 

It is better if he can get wine for free from Luo Binghe rather than needing to pay for it in the Red Lotus House. So Shen Qingqiu cuts down on his time in the brothel and instead looks forward to Luo Binghe’s nightly visits. 

The companionship, however… 

Shen Qingqiu did not go to the Red Lotus House just for the wine. He went to experience camaraderie with the workers there. People who understood him. Although it is more cost-effective to stay home and drink Luo Binghe’s wine, he misses out on the interaction. To rest his head on the ladies’ shoulders and feel the buzz of their voices on his cheek. That was one of Shen Qingqiu’s favorite things.

“Beast, come sit with me for a moment.” 

He doesn’t know why he makes the offer. Other than the fact that…well, Luo Binghe is the only person who visits him in the bamboo house. Ever. Shen Qingqiu never has guests (the other elders were successfully chased away by his indifferent attitude, and the disciples are far too afraid). Even though Luo Binghe is Shen Qingqiu’s least favorite disciple, the constancy of his visits is now a…regular thing. Shen Qingiu is used to his presence. The few minutes he spends delivering the wine. Pouring a glass. Luo Binghe doesn’t talk much, but…

Shen Qingqiu wishes he would. That brat has a loud, reassuring voice and he speaks in close proximity. Very easy to decipher. Given adequate context, Shen Qingiu can mostly understand him, which is remarkable. He can read his lips plain as day.

“Come have a drink with me.” 

Luo Binghe is frozen stiff. Afraid to move.

“Relax, I won’t tell anyone.” Chuckling, Shen Qingqiu pours his disciple a glass of wine. 

Drinking wine with a shizun is one thing! But an elder pouring for a disciple? That’s impossible to turn down! Luo Binghe trembles as the glass fills. The kid is terrified! 

Which is amusing in its own right. 

Shen Qingqiu is in a rare good mood tonight.

“I suppose I should thank you for all these personal deliveries,” he says, clinking his glass against Luo Binghe’s and knocking it back. “You’ve made my life easier, I’ll give you that.” 

Blinking stupidly, Luo Binghe settles into a sitting position. Hesitant, careful. Ready to flee at a moment’s notice. He touches the glass with his fingers, afraid to grip it too hard. As if it might shatter in his hand.

“This disciple is pleased to hear that,” he replies. “That’s all I want.” 

“You’re a strange child.” Seriously, he’s touching that cup like it’s a holy relic! Shen Qingqiu is bewildered by him. “I can’t begin to imagine why you’d want such a thing.” 

Luo Binghe tilts his head. “Isn’t it natural for a disciple to want their shizun to be more comfortable? I think we all wish that, no matter what.” 

When Shen Qingqiu was a disciple, he harbored no such wants. But he doesn’t care to admit that. 

Instead he says, “Perhaps. But you’re the only one of your martial siblings to actually do it. Even though I…” He clears his throat. He was about to admit to treating Luo Binghe poorly. He can’t admit it! That would be the same as admitting all his personal faults, of which there are many! 

He doesn’t need to say it, though. Luo Binghe nods like he understands. “It’s alright. It doesn’t matter. Shizun can treat me however he sees fit. I’m a difficult disciple, I know. Shizun certainly has his work cut out for him trying to make me into a half decent cultivator! So I’ll take whatever discipline is necessary.” 

Shen Qingqiu narrows his eyes. Luo Binghe is right—he’s been a bitch for Shen Qingqiu to care for, but not through any fault of his own. It’s because Shen Qingqiu harbors so much resentment…

It seems unfair for Luo Binghe to speak about himself like that. Normally, he makes Shen Qingqiu’s blood boil, but after a statement like that…Shen Qingqiu can’t seem to find his usual anger. In its place is a harsh pang of sympathy. 

This is a kid who wants to please. More than anything. 

What a reckless thing to be. Doesn’t he know that the world will chew up your good intentions, suck your bones until they’re dry, and spit you out as a degraded thing? Worthless, with no sense of direction? Luo Binghe needs to wise up!

“Don’t be so quick to disparage yourself,” Shen Qingqiu tells him. “You’re showing your weaknesses. You’d do well to wear a thicker mask, Luo Binghe.” 

It takes a minute for the kid to digest that. But he seems to seriously consider it. “I…see.”

“Now, drink your wine.” Shen Qingqiu nods at Luo Binghe’s untouched glass. “It’s time you got a taste of these delicacies you’ve been giving me. One must know the quality of one’s gifts, otherwise how can you expect adequate payment? You should learn this.” 

Luo Binghe smiles. “Shizun doesn’t need to pay me at all. His tutelage is enough.” Glowing, he picks up his glass. “But okay. As you say.”

Obedient to the last, Luo Binge takes a big gulp of the wine. His lips pucker. “Mm…sweet! I…” 

His voice is higher pitched, excited, and his mouth is scrunched. Shen Qingqiu can’t understand what he’s saying.

Without thinking, he turns his head to the left and leans in closer. “What did you say?” 

Luo Binghe swallows hard. He composes himself and speaks up, lips forming words more naturally. “I said it tastes sweet. I like it. Thank you, shizun.” 

“Mm. Good.” 

Shen Qingqiu surprised himself. It’s been ages since he asked anyone to repeat themselves. He can’t believe he did it automatically like that! Was Luo Binghe’s reaction really so important? Why did he want to know so badly…? 

Every time he asks someone to repeat, he’s leaving himself open for attack. If he asks too much, people will start to notice and then his gambit is finished. What will he do then?

He needs to be more careful. 

They sip their wine in silence for a little while. 

Shen Qingqiu is looking out the window. At one point, he hears a muffled buzz like the sound of dishes being washed in a basin of soapy water. That’s Luo Binghe’s voice! 

He swerves around to see what the kid is saying, but he’s too late. Luo Binghe is already in the middle of a sentence and Shen Qingqiu has no context. He can’t decipher a single word.

But he already asked Luo Binghe to repeat himself once. He can’t ask again! That’s far too suspect! 

Hands sweating, Shen Qingqiu falls back on the only move that can save him. He mutters a disinterested, “En.” 

Luo Binghe blinks, obviously expecting more. He waits quietly for a few moments, then scoots closer. “Did you hear me, shizun? I asked—”

“Of course I heard you!” Descending into full panic, Shen Qingqiu berates Luo Binghe. Mad, un-calculated. “Don’t be stupid! We’re sitting right next to each other, how could I not hear you? Imbecile, you dumb beast, what goes on in that faulty brain of yours…?” 

It takes a while for Shen Qingqiu to realize he’s saying a lot of things he doesn’t mean. His anger and fear are tumbling out like an avalanche of loose boulders. They land haphazardly in the tenuous environment he’s created with Luo Binghe.

He forces himself to stop. Shuts his mouth. Swallows. Bites his lip. 

Stop.

After a moment, he risks a glance at Luo Binghe. The kid is just sitting there. He doesn’t look hurt or surprised. He’s taking it even better than he normally does! Shen Qingqiu was expecting a kicked-puppy look or something, those big watery eyes.

But not this time. Luo Binghe is staring at him calmly. As if they’re having any old conversation and he’s waiting for Shen Qingqiu to be finished. 

When he senses the tirade is over, Luo Binghe speaks again. Even-toned. Clear. Concise. “My apologies, shizun. I didn’t mean anything by it—”

That calmness aggravates Shen Qingqiu further. He’s still in a panic and he feels like Luo Binghe’s cool headed reaction proves that he already knows! Does he know ? Why doesn’t he stop all the games if he knows! Just say it plainly and ruin Shen Qingqiu’s life the way he’s supposed to! Why beat around the bush?! 

“Then why don’t you think before you speak? If you’ve come here to subject me to your baseless ramblings then you can leave! Go on, get out!”

Unmovable, like a dragon made of earth and stone, Luo Binghe takes a sip of his wine. “Okay. I’ll finish my drink first, then I’ll go.” 

Shen Qingqiu gapes at him. Aghast. How is he…? Where does this kid get the balls to act this way in front of his shizun? What, he thinks because he’s eighteen now he’s something special? A man? Please! Shen Qingqiu wants to slap the drink right out of his hand! 

“Does shizun have an ink brush and paper around here?” 

Where the hell did that question come from?! Did Shen Qingqiu read that correctly—? 

Luo Binghe makes eye contact, stopping the rush of thoughts in Shen Qingqiu’s head. “I was thinking that, if it’s easier, we could write to each other instead of speaking. So we can communicate without any misunderstandings.” 

Hatred and deep-gutted terror fill Shen Qingiu’s face with heat. He’s so upset he can barely see! He might be gasping like a fish on land, he might be crying. He doesn’t know! He can’t feel anything except the whirlwind of fire lashing out of him in a final, desperate attempt to protect himself.

“You…I…how dare…!” He can’t manage a full thought. 

“It’s alright, shizun. Don’t get upset. This disciple is merely making a suggestion so we can try to understand each other better. My calligraphy is a little sloppy, but if shizun doesn’t mind—”

Shen Qingqiu snaps his teeth shut with a click, nearly biting off his own tongue. It takes all his effort to control himself enough to say, “Exactly what are you implying, Luo Binghe?” 

“I’m not implying anything,” the brat counters, hands raised in surrender. “I’m just thinking of ideas, like I said. But if it makes shizun feel better to have it said aloud, in no uncertain terms…” 

He lays his hand on top of Shen Qingqiu’s. He’s not sweating or shaking. All of that is coming from Shen Qingqiu. For once! It feels like their roles are reversed! 

“I know shizun is hard of hearing. I’ve known for a while. Please, correct me if I'm wrong, but…” He rubs Shen Qingqiu’s knuckles to soften the blow. “…it’s getting worse, right?” 

An inhuman sob wrenches out of Shen Qingqiu’s mouth. He tries to squirm away. His mind is running on empty, he doesn’t know what to do! He never prepared himself for this moment! He wants to tell Luo Binghe to get the fuck out! He wants to tell him to shut his damn mouth, to leave Cang Qiong Mountain and never come back! 

But that wouldn’t even help because—he knows ! Nothing can change the fact that someone living in this world has figured out what Shen Qingqiu has been trying to hide for twenty years! 

It’s over.

Luo Binghe clasps Shen Qingqiu’s hand, refusing to let go. “Don’t panic, shizun, it’s fine! Were you trying to keep it a secret? I wasn’t sure! I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want you to get mad…” 

He says several other things, but Shen Qingqiu’s eyes are closed. He’s shaking his head, trying to fight the maddening sense of defeat cutting into his insides. The fear and panic have collapsed, leaving him with a giant wound. A gash that leaves him open and exposed. He feels naked. He feels like he did as a twelve-year-old kid, tied down, denied any dignity, pulled by a rope around his hands and neck, dragged towards a destiny he could not predict—

“No, please don’t cry shizun, please! I’m sorry!” Luo Binghe cups his shizun’s face and hurriedly thumbs away the hot tears. “This disciple is so sorry for upsetting you! I promise, I won’t tell anyone else if you want to keep it secret! No one has to know!” 

Trembling, Shen Qingqiu stops trying to decipher this errant disciple’s words and reaches instead for his wine glass. This is what he needs most right now. He takes a long sip of wine, avoiding Luo Binghe’s invasive hands. With immense effort, he forces himself out of the spiral. He can’t collapse like a wet paper fan. He needs to retaliate! He needs to pull himself together and figure out where on earth to go from here.

Sniffing hard, wiping his face with several aggrieved swipes, Shen Qingqiu levels a death glare at Luo Binghe. “You horrible creature. How dare you make threats? You miserable lout—”

“It’s not a threat!” Luo Binghe waves his hands frantically. “I said I wouldn’t tell a soul! I promise!” 

“You better not!” Shen Qingqiu points an accusatory finger at him. “I swear, if I find out you’ve been running your mouth, spreading rumors to whomever will listen to your drivel, I’ll—!” 

“Shizun! Stop!” Luo Binghe bows low enough to knock his head against the ground. He prostrates himself several times, then straightens up and rapidly continues. “I haven’t told anyone! I would never do that. This is shizun’s personal business!” 

Taking another sip, Shen Qingqiu forces himself to believe those words. He has to. He has to trust that Luo Binghe is clingy enough that he actually means what he says, that he would try to keep his shizun’s secrets out of respect. It…could be true, knowing him. He might be too stupid to realize what a weapon he has. He could very easily get revenge on Shen Qingqiu for all the horrible treatment he’s endured, with nothing but a slip of the tongue. Doesn’t Luo Binghe know that?

Maybe he does. Maybe he’s too much of a fool to use such a weapon. Or maybe he’s just biding his time. 

In his heart, Shen Qingqiu knows it doesn’t matter either way. Luo Binghe knows . He can do whatever he wants now that he knows.

“How long have you known,” Shen Qingqiu asks. His voice is cold and tired.

“A while. This whole year, I think.” That long?! “I had my suspicions even before I started bringing you wine every night. Whenever your back is turned, you stop answering the disciples’ questions. Most people think it’s part of your personality, but…I always wondered.” 

How observant! Was this child designed in the womb to be the bane of Shen Qingqiu’s existence?

“Once I started coming here regularly, well. Of course I realized the truth. I even tested it. Forgive this disciple, but…” Luo Binghe smiles sheepishly. “I would stand a certain distance away when your back was turned and say things you would never allow under normal circumstances. Nothing got a reaction. I discovered that you can only hear me in close range, but even then you can’t understand me unless you’re looking directly at me.” He points to his mouth. “Are you reading my lips, shizun? That’s so smart!” 

Shen Qingqiu’s fingers and scalp are numb with shock. This kid, this random nobody, figured out Shen Qingqiu’s gambit down to the last detail.

Even more shocking is the feeling underneath all the terror and anger. The sudden… relief .

Luo Binghe has seen him. Really seen him. For the first time in Shen Qingqiu’s life, someone recognizes the things he must do every day just to get by.

He was not expecting to feel any relief whatsoever from this. And yet, somehow, an incongruous smile tugs at his lips. 

It is not easy to do what Shen Qingqiu does. The work is meticulous, painstaking, and risky. 

Luo Binghe better be impressed.

“I can’t imagine the things you’ve been through, shizun.” He’s damn right about that! “Please understand that I think you’re amazing, as a teacher and as a cultivator, and nothing could ever change my opinion.” 

Hmm. Well.

That is…acceptable. 

If it’s even true.

“Like I said earlier, the only thing I want is to make you more comfortable. To serve you, as a devoted disciple should. If you’ll let me, shizun, I…” He swallows, anxious to make this next offer. “This humble one would love to help you with this as well.” 

Shen Qingqiu takes a deep breath. Luo Binghe, Luo Binghe. This Luo Binghe. What on earth is he going to do with Luo Binghe?

Not only has this brat discovered Shen Qingqiu’s secret, he’s not intimating any designs to use it to his advantage. He’s offering…heaven above, he’s offering help! 

No one helps Shen Qingqiu. No one ever has, no one ever will. 

“How could you help me, beast?” he asks wearily, finishing the wine in his glass. “What could you possibly do? My hearing has been like this for decades. And yes, as you’ve already guessed, it is getting worse.” 

Admitting that aloud, in words, feels like pouring his heart out through his throat. Part of him wants to clutch those sensitive words and stuff them back inside…but it’s too late. 

He might as well say it. Try that on. See how it feels.

…It feels quite strange.

“Right now, my hearing is bad enough that I cannot rely on it. I can only hear muffled mutterings, a word here or there. Loud noises at a certain distance. Thunder. Things like that.” He sighs, rubbing his hands together to chase away the anxiety that threatens to overtake him. “Before long it will be gone completely. I know that. But there’s nothing to be done.” 

Luo Binghe is dumbfounded. “Wow. That’s…” He frowns. “That must be scary, shizun.”

Of course it is.

But Shen Qingqiu shakes his head no. “I’m used to it.” In fairness, that is also true.

For a moment, Luo Binghe says nothing. He sits still, deep in thought. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t know what else to say. He’s getting used to the feeling of being seen. Of having a human presence nearby that knows him. That understands his world. 

Without prompting, something pulses inside his chest. It feels like a baby bird fluttering its wings. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t understand the feeling—he’s never felt it before—so he stuffs it down. He can’t say where it came from, but he doesn’t trust it.

That feeling is warm. But also dangerous.

“How about this,” Luo Binghe says suddenly. “Can you tell me how it started? When did you lose your hearing? Were you born this way?” 

“No.” Shen Qingqiu shuffles in his seat, tightening his robes. “I…sustained an injury in my youth. A blow to the back of the head. From that point on, my hearing was never the same.” He goes on to explain about the ringing and the gradual deterioration. 

Instead of prying for more information, Luo Binghe just nods. He strokes his chin thoughtfully. 

Doesn’t he want to ask the obvious question? How such a blow happened? Shen Qingqiu’s story is that he’s from a wealthy family—wealthy kids don’t get hit like that! 

Yet Luo Binghe doesn’t ask. Miraculously. He goes on to say, “Well, there still might be a way to reverse it. Have you ever been to a physician?” 

“No, never.”

“Why?”

“Let me explain something to you about this world.” He fixes his disciple with a serious, grim look. “If you leave yourself open to an attack, others will take it. Without a second thought. If you wish to survive, you must never expose your weaknesses to anyone. Or else you’ll only have yourself to blame if someone slits your throat in your sleep.”

That should get the message across.

Luo Binghe scoots closer, making sure to stay in Shen Qingqiu’s line of sight. “But shizun, you’re being open and honest with me right now.” 

“Yes I know,” he growls. “And I’ll probably pay for it.” He pours himself another glass of wine, resigned to his fate.

Whatever this brat says, he surely has his own plans on how to use Shen Qingqiu’s secrets to his advantage. 

So, fine. Let the kid do his worst. Shen Qingqiu has been anticipating the end for a long time now. Let everything fall to pieces. 

He takes a long gulp of wine. 

After an awkward pause, Luo Binghe doubles down on what he said. “You won’t, shizun. I promise. I’ll…well, I don’t know yet but…” He scratches the back of his neck. “Let me do some research. Would that be okay? Can I look into this and see what can be found? I admit I’m ignorant as I am now. Maybe there’s something…I don’t know, but I believe something must exist that can be useful to us.” 

Shen Qingqiu raises his hands in defeat and indifference. “You can do whatever you like.” 

It doesn’t escape his notice that Luo Binghe distinctly said ‘us.’ Them? The two of them? Does he think they are united by this? In what way?

What a fool. 

“Alright then. I will.” Luo Binghe hurries to his feet. “Give me time, shizun! I’ll find something, you’ll see!” 

“You…?” That idiot! Where is he running off to at this hour? 

He’s already out the door before Shen Qingqiu can stop him.

__________________________________________

Shen Qingqiu doesn’t see hide nor hair of Luo Binghe until the following night. Whereupon that brat returns with a jug of wine, as usual. Among other things.

“Where were you all day?” 

“My apologies, shizun. I was hard at work in the libraries underneath Qian Cao Peak.” 

Mu Qingfang’s libraries? Shen Qingqiu sputters in panic. “Did anyone see you?” 

“I don’t think so,” he says, flipping his wild hair over one shoulder. As if he couldn’t be bothered to know for sure. “Look at these books I found. There was limited subject matter, but the shelves were not empty.” 

He pushes several texts into Shen Qingqiu’s space. Medical books about unblocking qi, releasing bindings upon the senses. Basic spells. 

Shen Qingqiu sighs. “Don’t you think I’ve tried all this already?” 

Luo Binghe blinks as if that didn’t occur to him. “Have you?” 

“Of course I have!” Shen Qingqiu whacks him over the head with his fan. “What do you think I am, helpless? I’m a cultivator at the level of midcore formation! Naturally I’ve looked into ways to fix the problem through qi manipulation. I’ve tried potions, formations, dietary restrictions. Meditation. Everything.” He shakes his head. “It’s all useless.” 

Luo Binghe is crestfallen. “Really? You’ve tried everything?” He points to an incantation in one of the books, sad and desperate. “Even this one…?” 

“Yes, even that one!”

As big as Luo Binghe has grown, he’s still just a child. Shen Qingqiu sniffs in frustration.

However. There is something…cute about Luo Binghe. A likability Shen Qingqiu never noticed before. He earnestly thought he could solve Shen Qingqiu’s decades-long problem with a single day of basic research. He’s that naive! And that earnest. 

Very unlike himself, Shen Qingqiu feels the sudden urge to cheer his disciple up. “Don’t trouble yourself on my account,” he says. “You are just a disciple. It would be highly unlikely for you to be able to solve a problem this pervasive and complex.” 

Luo Binghe nods. His nose is slightly red. Is he about to cry? What?! This crybaby! 

“I know but I…wanted to be useful to you, shizun…” 

Shen Qingqiu can’t believe what he’s seeing. The child who will certainly surpass everyone in this sect when his time comes…that kid is currently in a fit over the fact that he can’t magically solve his shizun’s medical issues with a snap of his fingers. 

Shen Qingqiu has never seen this side of Luo Binghe before. The level of genuine care this disciple has for him. With no basis except the fact that Shen Qingqiu bears the title of his shizun. 

Clicking his teeth, he pats Luo Binghe on the head. “You worked hard today,” he says. Uncommonly soft. “This shizun notices your effort.” 

As if flipping a switch, Luo Binghe’s whole face lights up. He grins so big his lips become harder to read. “Thank you so much! I promise not to give up! I will find something!” 

…

Incorrigible brat.

_______________________________

“This is out of the question.”

“But why? Won’t you even consider it?”

“I said no!” 

Sometimes, Luo Binghe’s eagerness goes too far! 

Spending his days locked up in the libraries is one thing. Since when did this kid start studying maps? Now, Luo Binghe has the idea that they should travel somewhere together! Apparently he found a remote village in some corner of the world—a swamp, it sounds like—where cultivators specialize in the study of sound and hearing. 

If there’s anyone in the world who can understand what the problem is with Shen Qingqiu’s ears, surely one of these cultivators can.

But how would he justify such a trip? Even if he could excuse a pointless journey in his own mind (which he struggles to do!), how would he pass the matter off to the other peak lords? Would he lie yet again?

“Shizun, listen to me for a moment.” 

Petulantly, Shen Qingqiu wants to shut his eyes and turn away so he has no possible way of listening. He hadn’t realized until now—when he began to have all these interactions with Luo Binghe—how comfortable he’s gotten with silence. Not silence in the tangible sense; personal silence. Solitude. The space between his ears where he agrees with himself all day and all night. Shen Qingqiu is not used to dealing with other people. Especially pushy people, like Luo Binghe! 

It’s been months since Luo Binghe revealed what he knew with no horrible fallout whatsoever. No one else in the sect knows. Luo Binghe never stops studying, never stops looking for answers. Nothing else matters to him. Not the terrible way Shen Qingqiu has treated him, not the hopelessness of this situation.

Nothing can change the way Luo Binghe feels. Apparently. He was telling the truth when he said that. 

The fluttering bird in Shen Qingqiu’s chest beats its wings more rapidly. Every time he looks at Luo Binghe it gets worse. 

 But in the end, Shen Qingqiu is going to end up alone and depleted. Luo Binghe will outgrow him. He will move on to become a strong cultivator, a hero probably! If he has any sense he’ll hold a grudge against Shen Qingqiu for the years of abuse. That’s the only way this will go! 

“Shizun, please. Look at me?” 

Luo Binghe won’t speak until Shen Qingqiu is looking. 

This kid is too much. Barging into this quiet little bamboo house with his grand ideas. Trampling on Shen Qingqiu’s fragile world of bitterness and futile rage. Stomping all over these feelings as if he doesn’t see them. As if he thinks there is a way Shen Qingqiu can live without them—

Can he? Is there a point on this terrible path where Shen Qingqiu can turn and face a different direction? Something other than loneliness, sealed in this bamboo house like a tomb? 

Is there another way? 

Truthfully, Shen Qingqiu doesn’t know if he can do it. Whether he finds a solution to his hearing problem or not, he has to find the willingness inside to strive for a better life. 

That is not so easy. He’s gotten used to misery. 

“Shizun?” Luo Binghe takes him by the hand. 

That hand is warm. Everything about Luo Binghe is warm. Shen Qingqiu hasn’t felt the warmth of another person in a long time. Not without paying for it, where the stipulations were clear and temporary.

Afraid, shy, and very unsure, Shen Qingqiu looks at him.

“Thank you, shizun.” The kid’s face is as bright as the sun. Rippling with emotion, like the beautiful silk from Shen Qingqiu’s dreams. “I just wanted to say a few things. I want to acknowledge the fact that we don’t know for sure whether the people in this village can help us. Whether there is a cure to stop your hearing loss. But…” 

He clasps Shen Qingqiu’s hand between both of his own.

“Even if there isn’t a way to do that, I can’t give up on the search to make your life better. I refuse to do it. This humble disciple knows nothing about medical things, nor do I know what the real answer is. But that doesn’t mean I can’t learn.” 

Bolder than ever, Luo Binghe holds Shen Qingqiu’s hand to his chest. Where his heart beats. Where his voice buzzes when he speaks. 

Shen Qingqiu can’t hold back a gasp.

“If I can learn, shizun, so can you. Will you learn with me? Can we learn together?” 

A crack forms in the tight seal of Shen Qingqiu’s chest. Where he holds back all the dangerous things he never lets himself feel. He knows he’s breaking, he knows this kid is winning whatever game they’re playing, but…

If there is a way to change direction on this miserable path, it must start with Luo Binghe. 

There’s no doubt about that.

“Fine,” Shen Qingqiu says at last. “Alright, Binghe. I’ll go to this village with you. Let’s see what they have to say.” 

Without warning, Luo Binghe buries his face in Shen Qingqiu’s chest and wraps him in a hug. His happiness is a visceral, palpable thing. It seeps into Shen Qingqiu from where they touch. 

The firm body of another person holding him of their own volition. Shen Qingqiu thought such experiences were finished for him. He never thought…

Hands shaking, Shen Qingqiu pats Luo Binghe on the back in return. It’s as much as he can possibly give, and even that feels like a huge mistake. So much vulnerability unearthed, a glaring chink in his armor. A place that could leave him open for any manner of personal attack—

But perhaps…

If he gives in this one time, just this once. If he lets Luo Binghe hug him, if he hugs him back. Only today! On this one occasion! Maybe…

Maybe it will be alright. 

______________________________

The journey to Shengyin Village takes less than a day. And yes, Shen Qingqiu comfortably lies to the other peak lords saying that he and Luo Binghe are going to investigate a possible demon sighting in the area. They are purposefully vague on the specifics, though no one seems to care.

Because it is only the two of them, the easiest way is to ride swords. Just this once, he allows Luo Binghe to sit on Xiu Ya behind him. 

Luo Binghe clings to him the whole time, arms wrapped around his waist. As smug as the cat that got into the cream. 

So sticky. For the entire trip, Shen Qingqiu can barely lower his arms! He snaps at Luo Binghe a few times to put his hands down, but somehow those hands always migrate back up…

Hmph. Is this brat afraid of heights? Or is he some kind of pervert? 

Regardless, in the end Shen Qingqiu lets Luo Binghe hold onto him. He tells himself it’s easier like this, to simply avoid arguing about it. 

The real reason is more difficult to admit. Slippery. Opaque. The warmth from Luo Binghe’s hands, especially on his ribs where Shen Qingqiu has not felt another person’s touch in so many years…heaven, why does this kid have such warm hands?

By the time they reach the village, Shen Qingqiu is blushing. He swallows hard, fixing his hair unnecessarily. Thankfully, the village is surrounded by water. So the air is cool. 

Cool air helps lower the temperature between the two of them.

Shengyin Village is not the swamp Shen Qingqiu expected. It is a secluded bamboo forest with stillwater ponds running through the grass like veins through marble. The water is not marshy or brackish, but rather clear. Soft, silken. The wind rustles the bamboo leaves in an intimate way. Shen Qingqiu cannot hear the sound, but he can see each individual leaf being touched by the breeze. One by one. Caressed by a gentle hand.

It’s beautiful. That’s what it is.  

He stares at the trees too long. Eventually Luo Binghe tugs him forward by the sleeve. 

They reach the village’s entrance, which is surrounded by tall, loosely-tied fences made of dried bamboo reeds. Luo Binghe calls out a few times, but no one answers. There are people in the distance picking rice and milling about, though none of them come to greet their guests.

Uncertain, Luo Binghe taps the bamboo reeds. His intention was to knock. However…

As soon as he touches a reed, it falls forward into several others. A domino effect. The reeds bend down in rapid succession, until the cascade reaches the fencing nearest the villagers. Only then do they raise their heads, peering towards the entrance where the sound started.

Of course they can tell where it started, Shen Qingqiu realizes. They can see the reeds swaying. 

He begins to understand the nature of this village. 

Unbidden, a spark of excitement twirls at the bottom of his stomach. Normally that’s where he harbors his fear and paranoia. But this time he feels something like…anticipation. Like he is entering a world of secrets. Of intelligence. A place with clever things that make a wonderful kind of sense. The kind of sense Shen Qingqiu has been missing since he lost his hearing.

“Can I help you?” A farmer approaches the entrance with a few children behind him. They peer curiously at their visitors. As the farmer speaks, he moves his hands in a curious, deliberate way. Several rapid gestures. 

“Ah, yes, we are cultivators from Cang Qiong Mountain.” Luo Binghe talks first, bowing politely. “We came to see Zhou-yisheng. Is he here?” 

The farmer nods. “Yes, he’s here. Come with me, I’ll take you to him.”

Every time this man speaks, his hands move in kind. The rhythm of his gestures matches the cadence of his speech, so the gestures feel connected to his way of talking. While they follow the farmer, the children behind them titter excitedly. They are also gesturing at each other in complex but natural movements. They are not speaking aloud. Instead, their hand movements seem like a language all their own. 

Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe exchange glances. Luo Binghe’s reddish eyes are alight with so many possibilities. Meanwhile, Shen Qingqiu is starting to feel lost. 

They might be unwelcome here. Outsiders. 

The doctor they came to see is named Zhou Yingyi. The farmer takes them to a hut at the top of a small hill. He tugs a string attached to the doorway and several lines of bamboo reeds tumble down in a domino effect again. Shen Qingqiu follows the movement with his eyes until the reeds trail off into the interior of the hut. Shortly afterward, a man emerges. He is middle-aged and lean. Tall enough that he has to duck down at the entrance to the hut. His robes are clean and well-kept. Clearly a cultivator, though he doesn’t wear the colors of any known sects.

How fascinating to find a new branch of cultivation all the way out here in the forest.

“Zhou-yisheng,” the farmer says, still moving his hands. “These cultivators are here to see you.”

“Understood,” Zhou Yingyi replies. He turns to the visitors. “Welcome. Are you here for medical services? Or do you need another type of consultation? We’re running low on the enchanted parchment paper our village is known for. But if you give us a few days, we can make more.” 

The doctor’s hands also move when he talks. His movements are fluid, close to his body. As natural as breathing. 

“We’re here for a medical consultation,” Luo Binghe says. “For my shizun.” 

Shen Qingqiu quickly interrupts, in case Luo Binghe is about to make a proper introduction. “We are cultivators of no consequence,” he says. “But we’ve heard rumors that you specialize in the study of sound. Is that so?” 

The last thing he wants is to give away his real name and identity! They were supposed to come here in secret! Did Luo Binghe forget?!

Zhou Yingyi shakes his head. “Those rumors are somewhat exaggerated,” he says. “I’m just a doctor. Though, yes, many patients come here to discuss the state of their hearing. Why don’t you come in.”

Far from being treated like outsiders, Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe are welcomed into a warm space that is clearly a family’s living room. Children’s toys are scattered everywhere. A kettle of tea is boiling. A woman with an infant strapped to her back is cutting vegetables in a small open-air space around the back. Two more children scamper around her feet. 

“Please, sit down. Let me pour you some tea.” 

The doctor leads them to a small, round dining table. He goes to the woman cutting vegetables and knocks on the wooden table where she works. Alerting her to his presence. As soon as she looks up, he pecks her on the cheek. She sighs, rolling her eyes. He makes several rapid hand signs and she glances in the direction of their visitors. With a resolute nod, she wipes her hands and fetches a set of chipped teacups. 

“My wife is kind enough to serve us,” the doctor says, joining them at the table. 

This must be his home. His family, his children. He practices medicine in his house. 

The woman smiles, making eye contact with both Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu. When she’s done pouring, she puts down the teapot and moves her hands in calm, deliberate gestures.

“If you’d like more, help yourself,” the doctor says. Translating her words.

There can be no doubt now. These hand movements are a language. Unique, visually arresting, and totally soundless. 

The anticipation Shen Qingqiu felt at the entrance to this village suddenly doubles. He grips the edge of his seat, knuckles white. He never considered such a thing before! What a remarkable way of communicating! Everything fully in your line of sight. No gray areas, nothing inscrutable to pick apart. Out of all the things he’s researched over the past several decades, why did he never find…? 

The bottom of his stomach is boiling hot. 

Luo Binghe touches the back of his shizun’s hand. Sliding his own on top. Even though Shen Qingqiu knows this is highly inappropriate, his fingers helplessly stretch upwards. Searching for contact. They eagerly hook themselves around Luo Binghe’s fingers, trapping him in their grasp. 

It was Luo Binghe’s idea to come here. If Shen Qingqiu has to suffer this intense, persistent need to know , Luo Binghe has to suffer with him! 

The doctor is speaking again. And signing. But his face is pointed down towards an open notebook where he intends to take notes. Shen Qingqiu cannot hear or understand him. He shakes his head and looks away, unwilling to admit anything up front.

“He’s asking if you have hearing loss or ear pain,” Luo Binghe explains. He speaks loudly, craning his neck to put his mouth in Shen Qingqiu’s line of sight. “He wants to know why you’re seeking medical care.” 

At that, Zhou Yingyi looks up. He glances between the two of them. “I see,” he says, speaking directly at Shen Qingqiu. “It appears you have a rather serious hearing loss if you’re having trouble hearing me at this distance. My apologies, I wasn’t aware. Let me put this away for now.” He closes his notebook and sets it aside. “Tell me the details, if you can. When did it start? And how?” 

Keeping Luo Binghe’s fingers inside his own, Shen Qingqiu retells the whole story. The blow to the head, the gradual deterioration. Zhou Yingyi asks many concise questions, especially about the ringing in Shen Qingqiu’s ears and the kind of pain he experienced at the beginning. It seems like he’s heard all these symptoms before. 

Shen Qingqiu would like to be relieved by that, if it weren’t for the serious expression on the doctor’s face. The way his mouth folds into a straight line. 

“Come with me to the other room,” he says, standing up. “I’ll conduct the examination.”

Now. Those words out of a man’s mouth make Shen Qingqiu’s heart stop dead in his chest. He does not appreciate the idea of an ‘examination!’ Nothing of the sort! Automatically, he remembers Xiu Ya at his side. He grips Luo Binghe’s hand tighter as well. 

Seeing that stony reaction, the doctor scratches his head. “Ah…it’s an external examination. I just need to check your ears.” He nods at Luo Binghe. “Your friend can come too.” 

That is…better. Luo Binghe nods along without missing a beat, as if there was never any question whether he’d be allowed in or not. 

Invasive little brat. This sticky disciple does not intend to leave his side. Not once. No matter what. 

Good. 

Hands hidden inside their sleeves, he clutches Luo Binghe’s fingers all the way to the exam room. He only lets go when he must. 

Luo Binghe doesn’t go anywhere. He stands at the doctor’s side, facing Shen Qingqiu, looking him in the eyes. He quickly repeats everything the doctor says so Shen Qingqiu can read his lips. This way he won’t miss anything while the doctor gathers his tools and looks into his ears. 

Shen Qingqiu glances around nervously, but his eyes always come back to Luo Binghe. Who doesn’t look away for a second.

Zhou Yingyi uses a lamp attached to a funnel-shaped piece of jade to peer into Shen Qingqiu’s ears. He is speaking, his breath grazes Shen Qingqiu’s neck, but any useful information comes from Luo Binghe’s mouth.

“Yes, I can see the damage. Especially on the left side.” Zhou Yingyi snaps his fingers close to Shen Qingqiu’s ears. The reaction he gets tells him enough (Shen Qingqiu hears a distant click muffled under several layers of cloth on the right, nothing on the left). 

To confirm his suspicions, Zhou Yingyi places two fingers on Shen Qingqiu’s right temple. Cool qi, like wind rippling across the surface of a pond, trickles into his body. It is not painful. In fact, it is rather innocuous. It flows through his head. Then, just as quickly, it disappears. 

That must have been a test. 

Zhou Yingyi sits down across from Shen Qingqiu. Even more serious than before. He takes a deep breath and says, “I’m afraid the damage is permanent. There is no cure that I know of.” 

Something hard is stuck in Shen Qingqiu’s throat. He swallows to push it down. Fortunately, it goes down easily enough.

He expected this outcome. He knew it was coming.

“Considering what you’ve told me about your symptoms, about how quickly they’ve progressed in recent years, I would say…” Zhou Yingyi squints. “…you’ll probably lose what remains of your hearing within a year. By this time next year, I’d expect you to have no residual hearing that you can use functionally.” 

Heavy air settles around them. Shen Qingqiu looks at the floor. He hears Luo Binghe’s voice saying several things in a higher-pitched tone. But he doesn’t try to listen.

He already knew. He knew all of this. So why…? 

He feels like he swallowed a stone. Knowing is one thing. Hearing it from the mouth of a physician, who specializes in this and has seen it before…that is quite another. 

This is why Shen Qingqiu didn’t want to come here! He didn’t want to know! He didn’t want to face the inevitable in such a cold, blatant way! He wanted to stay in his bamboo house where he could inoculate himself against all feelings, coddled by herbs and wine and abject bitterness. 

Why did Luo Binghe make him come here? To torture him? Is this revenge or—? 

Unaware of his shizun’s strife, Luo Binghe taps him on the knee to get his attention. When Shen Qingqiu looks up, the brat says a few things quickly. 

He is smiling.

“Slow down,” Shen Qignqiu reminds him. “What are you saying?” 

Luo Binghe points to the doctor. “He says many people in this village are Deaf. Like his wife and children. Apparently, Deaf people have lived here for a long, long time. He says that years ago, the villagers created a language with their hands, the one we’ve been seeing them use.”

“Everyone uses it here,” Zhou Yingyi explains. “Whether they are Deaf or not. Communicating in such a way removes barriers for all of us, makes everyone’s lives easier and happier. Moreover, it is our language. We are proud of it.” 

He reaches behind himself, inside a tall medicine cabinet. Inside one of the drawers is a series of thick books with titles like ‘Sign Language of Shengyin Village, Volume 1’ and so forth. 

“I’ve done my best to codify our language here,” Zhou Yingyi explains, offering Shen Qingqiu the book. “Forgive me for assuming, but the way you communicate with those around you, is it through lip reading?” 

Shen Qingqiu nods.

“That’s remarkable.” Zhou Yingyi’s eyebrows bounce several times. “Incredible, really. But if I may offer some advice, as a medical professional and as a member of this village, I think you should try to incorporate some of our language into your daily life. At least with those closest to you. Things will be much less frustrating if you have a reliable way to communicate, especially…well, especially in a year’s time.” 

It is clear what he means: Once Shen Qingqiu is deaf. 

He’s not wrong. 

Slowly, Shen Qingqiu takes the book and cradles it on his lap. Like a treasure. 

“You should also come back when I have more enchanted parchment,” Zhou Yingyi continues. “I think you would find it useful. Here, a demonstration.” He reaches into another drawer and pulls out a piece of translucent paper. He holds the paper to his mouth and starts to speak. As his breath hits the paper, several words appear.

The function is obvious. It translates speech into written word! Just like that! 

Greedy as hell, Shen Qingqiu snatches the paper from Zhou Yingyi. He needs this! His whole life could change if only he had this! 

Of course, that’s a very rude thing to do, but Zhou Yingyi just laughs. “I know, it seems wonderful, right? Unfortunately I have yet to perfect the enchantment. The words it displays are not always accurate. And the enchantment only lasts a few uses. Five at the most. Then the spell wears off and you’ll need more.” 

Shen Qingqiu rubs the paper between his fingers. So light and delicate. What a fragile, precious thing. Even if it has limited use, it is still a miracle. 

“Did you invent this talisman, Zhou-yisheng?” Luo Binghe asks.

The doctor nods. “Yes. It’s a work in progress. In time, I hope to make it more durable and consistent.” 

“It’s amazing. Thank you.” Shen Qingqiu does not usually dole out praise so easily. But this is one of those times when it is warranted! He intends to keep this paper with him forever! Study it. Perhaps he can make something similar with this as a guide.

Zhou Yingyi bows. “You’re welcome. Like I said, come back in a few days and I should have—”

Just then, two children run into the exam room. The boy is chasing his sister with a stuffed dog, both of them are out of breath. As they laugh excitedly, they knock over one of the cabinets by the door. They don’t stop. They just continue their rampage.

In their wake is a mess of herbs, vials, and various implements. 

Zhou Yingyi laughs again. “Aha, actually, make that a few weeks. Forgive us. You know how children are.” 

Yes. 

With their business finished, Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu thank the doctor several more times. Their arms are full of sign language books, whatever parchment was left in stock, and several pouches of tea and osmanthus buns. Gifts from his wife. The family doesn’t ask for a single coin in payment, which is good because spirit stones are useless all the way out here. 

Most precious of all is the invitation to come back anytime, whenever they need anything. 

In total, they leave Shengyin Village with much, much more than they came with. 

Shen Qingqiu’s heart is as full as his arms.  

__________________________________________

On the journey back to Cang Qiong Mountain, they get caught in the rain. Instead of summoning a barrier, they decide to spend the night in a tavern in a local town. 

There is no rush to get back.

The night lingers on. They share a room on the first floor with a long porch that stretches out into the open air. Shen Qingqiu sits on the bed, pouring over the sign language book Zhou Yingyi gave him. There are so many signs…it’s overwhelming. Yet part of Shen Qingqiu is hungry for it. Hungry to learn. He remembers that this language was developed by people like him. People who could not hear. Instead of keeping themselves locked inside, like Shen Qingqiu believed he would need to do for the rest of his life, they made this beautiful language. 

It’s astounding.

Slowly, he tries a few of the signs. Basic ones, introductions and greetings. He instantly feels foolish. He’s probably not doing it right. His hands are not fluid and adept like the people in Shengyin Village. If they saw him trying, they would probably laugh at him!

Or maybe not. He did not sense a single cruel urge inside any of the people he met today. Upon learning he is going deaf, they showered him with gifts and sent him off with a smile. Kindness like that is…

Well. Shen Qingqiu has never experienced kindness like that before. He doesn’t know what to do with it. 

Profoundly overwhelmed, he closes the book and looks for Luo Binghe. He finds him sitting near the porch, watching the rain. Rivulets of water trickle down the terracotta roof in a heavy stream. Luo Binghe might be getting wet sitting so close.

His back is turned. Shen Qingqiu cannot see his face.

Before he even realizes, he’s on his feet. He has a sudden intense desire to see Luo Binghe’s face. To know how he feels after the day they had. After this whole trip.

He’s already done so much for Shen Qingqiu. So, so much. He brought him here. He held his hand. He translated every conversation, making sure Shen Qingiqu could see everything being said. He smiled. Every time Shen Qingqiu looked at him, that kid was smiling. Like there was nowhere else in the world he’d rather be than some remote village, sorting through Shen Qingqiu’s problems. 

Has Luo Binghe finally realized it’s too much? That he doesn’t need to do this—that he shouldn’t? Not for someone like Shen Qingqiu, who is too cruel and doesn’t deserve such kindness even for a second! 

Shen Qingqiu rushes to his side. He wants to hold Luo Binghe’s hand again. He wants to feel those warm arms around his body—

Seeing him from the corner of his eye, Luo Binghe finally turns around. 

He is still smiling. This sunshine boy. With his wild hair (even frizzier in the rain) and his too-wide eyes that show far more emotion than necessary. This guy is still smiling! He grins ear to ear, looking like the most content person on this planet.

“The rain is so loud,” he tells his shizun. 

“Is it?” Shen Qingqiu sits next to him, tucking his legs underneath himself to avoid getting rained on.

Luo Binghe nods. “I like when it rains heavily like this. Everything gets washed away and it feels like a fresh start. Don’t you think so?”

Truthfully, Shen Qingqiu has never thought such things. He remembers getting caught in the rain as a child when he did not have a roof over his head. It was cold and miserable. 

Sitting next to Luo Binghe, it is hard to remember feeling cold. He makes Shen Qingqiu feel so warm. Every part of his body is permeated with that special, loving glow Luo Binghe radiates. Being around this guy so much, Shen Qingqiu is used to the warmth. In fact, he craves it. 

He wants more. Everything feels better when he touches Luo Binghe. This is the guy who came to him when Shen Qingqiu was at his worst, lowest point. A place of misery he did not see a way out of it. Luo Binghe stubbornly believed things could get better, without any evidence! And now…

He’s still here. Something tells Shen Qingqiu he’ll always be here. Eyes forward, always looking to the future. That future is bright in his eyes, no matter how hard it rains.

Shen Qingqiu slides closer to him. Their shoulders touch. Swallowing hard, slightly shaking, he reaches down and clutches Luo Binghe’s hand again. Like they did at Zhou Yingyi’s house. They haven’t talked about it yet, how close they were and what that means. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t want to talk about it. 

He just wants to hold him.

Luo Binghe’s hand eagerly accepts Shen Qingqiu’s. Their fingers tangle together, interwoven in an intricate, natural way. Squeezing tight. Luo Binghe’s thumb gently strokes the side of Shen Qingqiu’s hand, making him gasp. 

So soft! Why is Luo Binghe touching him so softly? That tiny stroke—all at once, a million things come alive inside Shen Qingqiu. Things that were dead for a long time, snuffed out before they even got a chance to live. Shen Qingqiu’s heart is racing. It hurts, yet it also feels…wonderful. 

Pleasure and excitement flicker inside of him, like stars blinking into existence. Happiness. A loose, reckless kind of joy.

Heaven above. What Luo Binghe can do to him with nothing but a gentle stroke of his thumb.

“Today was a good day, shizun,” he says. Sincere as ever. “We learned so much! I’m excited. The people of Shengyin Village are really amazing! I have a few ideas for things we can do to your bamboo house. I’ll show you when we get back…” 

He continues talking. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t need to listen. Even more urgent than hearing these ideas (which are surely clever and useful, he knows he’ll appreciate them), is the need to be closer. 

While Luo Binghe talks, Shen Qingqiu rests his head on his shoulder. Here, oh here. The warmth is even stronger here. Powerful enough to be called heat . Shen Qingqiu curls up against Luo Binghe and revels in his heat. He presses his forehead to Luo Binghe’s neck so he can feel the vibrations from his speech reverberating in his throat. It feels intimate but right. Absorbed by those vibrations, he doesn’t need to know what Luo Binghe is saying. He can feel the words on his skin. He is experiencing those words right along with him, in almost the same way.

He closes his eyes. It’s been ages since he let himself close his eyes in the presence of another person, always afraid he would miss an important piece of information if he wasn’t looking. But right now he knows he doesn’t have to worry.

He is safe. He is respected. Luo Binghe won’t try to take advantage of him, he’s proven that.

For the first time, Shen Qingqiu is happy.

Very happy.

____________________________________

“I think it’s like…this.” 

“Hmm, no. That doesn’t look right.” 

“Are you sure? So like this?” 

“No, you idiot. That’s the one for ‘bear.’ Look again.” 

Luo Binghe checks the page where Shen Qingqiu is pointing. He sees that indeed the sign he just tried to imitate is not the sign for ‘afraid’ and instead the sign for ‘bear.’ 

He looks up at his shizun, smiling sheepishly. “Aha, shizun is right, of course. On the bright side, I’ve learned the animals very quickly!” 

Shen Qingqiu rolls his eyes. “How is that supposed to help me?” 

“Does shizun like nature walks?” Luo Binghe rapidly goes through the signs he’s learned for several animals, including bird, fish, cow, fox, and, mostly recently, bear. “I can point out the animals to you.”

This Luo Binghe…

In the months since their visit to Shengyin Village, Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu have been busy. Luo Binghe immediately threw himself into the work of making Shen Qingqiu’s house more livable. He collected bamboo reeds and made a similar pulley system to what Zhou Yingyi had in his hut. At the entrance, visitors can pull a string that makes the reeds cascade forward throughout the house. This way Shen Qingqiu can see there is someone at the door, even if his back is turned. He also put lamps throughout the house. The lamps have a spigot that can control the flow of oil to the wick. When approaching Shen Qingqiu from behind, Luo Binghe turns the knob of the spigot back and forth, making the flame dance in an unnatural, obvious way. This is his signal to get Shen Qingqiu’s attention. Even if someone doesn’t use any of the systems deliberately, the reeds shake whenever someone crosses the threshold, and the lamps cast shadows in every direction.

With these things, Shen Qingqiu can relax a bit. He doesn’t worry quite so much about what’s going on behind him, who might sneak up on him. 

There’s less of a chance someone will slit his throat in his sleep. 

The easing of these deep-seated fears was strange, at first. Shen Qingqiu is used to living with paranoia. With his home arranged in such an intelligent way, it becomes a refuge from the stress of the outside world. 

Like the doctor predicted, his hearing has only gotten worse. He understands the speech of the other peak lords less and less as the hearing in his right ear deteriorates and lip reading becomes harder. Yet he cannot avoid his duties. So he must live with the intolerable. 

In his home, at least, he can be calm. 

It ends up being a place where he spends quite a lot of time with Luo Binghe. The kid is there all the time. He dove headfirst into Shengyin Village’s language. He would work on Shen Qingqiu’s house, then sit in the living room and ask for the books to begin studying. His hard work prompted Shen Qingqiu to start learning the language seriously as well. 

In truth, if it wasn’t for Luo Binghe, Shen Qingqiu might have kept the books under his bed and never opened them, out of fear of looking foolish…but since Luo Binghe refused to leave it alone…

He can’t let that brat show off too much. 

To be honest, learning this language alongside Luo Binghe has been fun. Yes, fun. It’s the first time in many, many years Shen Qingqiu can say he’s having fun. 

But he is.

Luo Binghe is so eager. Unafraid of making mistakes. Sometimes Shen Qingqiu thinks he’s doing it on purpose to fluff his shizun’s ego and allow him to take the role of the teacher. It’s embarrassing to think about but…Shen Qingqiu likes it. They don’t need to talk about it. Their dynamic doesn’t need to change. 

Of course, the language of Shengyin Village is beautiful. Shen Qingqiu was very intimidated in the beginning, so he is surprised to find the language quite intuitive. After learning the basic structure, the rest comes easily. Signs originate from areas of the body that follow a pattern. It is thorough yet memorable. 

He practices the language even when he is alone. He derives a sense of pride knowing that he is accomplishing something. Not only that, it feels natural. It makes sense. He looks in the mirror, watching himself sign, and he feels…strong. 

He is stronger than ever.

He has discovered so many things. Smart things that make his world exciting. The silence does not scare him as much as it used to. Instead he feels as if he is opening the door to something new. A world that utilizes his strengths. His sight. His sense of touch. His cunning. 

As wonderful as it is to have sign language, it wouldn’t be helpful if he were the only person who could use it. Which is why, having Luo Binghe with him, learning the same things at relatively the same rate, is essential.

And truthfully…

Shen Qingqiu loves watching Luo Binghe sign. The beast’s hands are big and his shoulders are broad, but when he tells a story in sign language, hidden grace comes out of him. Expressive, picturesque, and thoughtful. Seeing Luo Binghe sign makes Shen Qingqiu realize there is a whole person inside of Luo Binghe that he hardly knows. A beautiful man, waiting to come out. 

Each day, Luo Binghe becomes that man more and more. Stronger, savvier. Handsome. 

The man inside of him blossoms when he signs. Luo Binghe is as talkative in sign language as he always is, so he loves telling stories. Shen Qingqiu loves to sit and watch him. 

—When I was a boy, my mother used to tell me a story,— Luo Binghe signs. —It was about an ox who took home a tiger and shared food with him.—

—Does the tiger eat the ox in the end?— Shen Qingqiu would be surprised if not! Don’t all stories end this way?

But Luo Binghe shakes his head. —No. The tiger learned she could rely on the ox for food. In fact, the ox secretly loved the tiger. He treated her quite well. So there was no need for quarrel.—

Sounds like nonsense. Shen Qingqiu sniffs pointedly and takes a sip of his wine.

Smiling, Luo Binghe continues. —Besides, an ox and a tiger are evenly matched in terms of strength, don’t you think? Anyway. Let me tell the story from the beginning. Then you can decide what you think. Okay?—

—Fine.—

They sit together in the bamboo house. Signing, drinking wine. Telling stories. Chatting. Luo Binghe’s sense of humor catches Shen Qingqiu by surprise. He laughs without meaning to. A lot of the time, he forgets to hide his laughter behind his fan.

They learn about each other. Whether because of the wine or because of the unique nature of the dimly lit bamboo house, shadows from hands moving back and forth, Shen Qingqiu tells Luo Binghe secret things. Innocuous things at first; memories from when he was a Qing Jing Peak disciple under the previous master. 

Then, in time…other things. 

—You see, Binghe? People aren’t always what they seem.—

Luo Binghe sits in quiet contemplation. He just learned that Shen Qingqiu’s given backstory was a lie. That he was in fact a criminal before coming to Qing Jing Peak, a runaway slave. Luo Binghe looks troubled. 

Shen Qingqiu is perversely proud of himself, even though it feels like he just swallowed a cup of poison. —This is why you should never have heroes!— He doubles down. —People will always disappoint you in the end. No one is ever as grand as they seem, me least of all!—

—I disagree. I think shizun is very grand indeed.— 

Instead of turning away or condemning him, Luo Binghe smiles sadly. 

—My heart hurts for shizun, though. You’ve had a difficult life and I never knew.— He inches closer. —But it makes me realize that shizun is even more awesome than I thought. Going through all that and becoming a peak lord of a major sect! That’s incredible.—

Shen Qingqiu is speechless. Suffice to say, he never anticipated such a reaction! He thought Luo Binghe’s hero worship would evaporate to dust when he knew that Shen Qingqiu had to crawl his way up from the bottom. He even told Luo Binghe about Wu Yanzi! How he needed to steal and cheat and hurt to survive! 

Why isn’t Luo Binghe revolted? 

Why is he still smiling? 

—My shizun is strong. Fearless. Tough. Indomitable.— There is unlooked-for heat in Luo Binghe’s eyes when he signs the next word. —Beautiful.—

Face flaming, Shen Qingqiu slaps Luo Binghe’s arm. How dare he! That’s far too assuming for a disciple to say to a shizun! Unless Luo Binghe is nothing but a pervert like all the rest! 

“You…” Shen Qingqiu gasps, speaking aloud. He’s addled enough to use his voice, which he can no longer hear. “You…would…” 

Luo Binghe grins from ear to ear. As if he’s done nothing wrong! He doesn’t say or sign anything in return. He waits for Shen Qingqiu to finish his thought. 

But what can Shen Qingqiu say? 

What can he say when his heart is beating so rapidly? When his face is hot and there is a persistent tingle in his chest that makes his knees tremble? What can he say to Luo Binghe when deep down, in his heart of hearts, a place so private he would rather bite off his own tongue than admit…

…he is glad.

___________________________

Time passes like this. Conversations in the dead of night. Plum wine, stories told by candlelight. Secret warmth.

By the time Luo Binghe is nearly twenty years old, Shen Qingqiu is able to admit to himself that he is in love with him.

It’s humiliating, of course. A shizun falling in love with his own disciple! Not only that, the disciple that he staunchly despised for so many years! It’s a joke! Shen Qingqiu should descend into the deepest, darkest cave he can find and never come out. 

He doesn’t, though. As the years go by, he stops denying his feelings altogether. 

Because he can’t lie. Not to himself, at least. He knows himself better than anyone.

He is happy with Luo Binghe. They came to the decision that Luo Binghe should stop sleeping in the woodshed and instead come to live with Shen Qingqiu in the bamboo house. It was a wonderful decision. This way, he can go to sleep knowing Luo Binghe’s warm, comforting body is only a room away. There will be a delicious breakfast in the morning. And a scrumptious dinner in the evening. 

Furthermore, Luo Binghe has changed in several…noticeable ways.

That sticky, overeager disciple is not a boy anymore. He is a man. His face, his body. Every part of Luo Binghe exudes manliness that certainly was not there before.

His manliness…

Luo Binghe’s manliness overwhelms Shen Qingqiu at times. If he stares at that bare chest (a broad, burly chest that does not fit inside the disciple robes anymore) too much, it sends Shen Qingqiu into fits. He blushes and coughs, turning away to search for a glass of water. He has never been attracted to men before—never to anyone, as far as he can remember—but the sensual curve of Luo Binghe’s svelte body, which bulges in all the right places…

Shen Qingqiu finds himself caught. Trapped. His eyes stick to Luo Binghe. The memory of what he sees haunts him throughout the day.

At night as well. Many times, Shen Qingqiu wakes up breathless and sweaty from a dream spent pressed underneath his disciple’s prominent weight. His lips on that chest. His hand on the thick cock Luo Binghe keeps hidden beneath his clothes. In the dream, Luo Binghe lets his shizun touch it. His fiery eyes dominate Shen Qingqiu, telling him to lick. That pillar is so deliciously hot in his mouth…

Shen Qingqiu knows he has descended into perversion. He somewhat hates himself for having these desires. He worries that the abuse he suffered in his past made him twisted.

But he cannot change the way he feels. He fell in love with that beast because of the way he treated him. The way Luo Binghe took Shen Qingqiu by the hand and calmly led him out of the tomb he was burying himself in. The way he let Shen Qingqiu monopolize his time, his energy, and his light. He has shown his unbridled care for his shizun in so many ways, and Shen Qingqiu…is a mule dragged stubbornly to the water! 

Fortunately, Luo Binghe does not seem to mind.

He must know the truth. He must . He catches Shen Qingqiu staring at him all the time! Their eyes meet when Luo Binghe comes back into the house after a hot bath, his loose robe clinging to his still-wet body. Shen Qingqiu tried not to look at first, but when Luo Binghe caught his gaze and smiled…he stopped fighting the urge. He looks with abandon now.

 Luo Binghe lets him.

—Beautiful.— He uses that word freely. Whenever he notices Shen Qingqiu’s lewd gaze. —My beautiful shizun.—

It makes Shen Qingqiu’s whole body warm. From his deepest, most private place, to the tips of his toes.

His feelings must be obvious. Clearly, there are feelings on Luo Binghe’s behalf as well.

But they don’t ever act on them. Instead they coexist. Content with the arrangement they have. The thing between them is too wonderful to ruin, by Shen Qingqiu’s reckoning. He has not had sex in years. He doesn’t know if Luo Binghe is a virgin or not (probably not, if the rumors about him and the female disciples are true, though those rumors stopped when he started living in his shizun’s house). If they wind up in bed together, only to fumble awkwardly…

Shen Qingqiu doesn’t want to think about it. He remembers sex as a grotesque meeting of bodies. Sweaty, painful. Uncoordinated. Disgusting. He doesn’t want sex to destroy the careful environment of respect and understanding they have built with each other. 

The bamboo house is Shen Qingqiu’s only sanctuary! He can’t risk losing his serenity. 

But his body is unruly. It wants Luo Binghe, in a way he cannot ignore.  

Very often now, he sits next to Luo Binghe as he did in the tavern. He rests his head on his shoulder and feels the vibrations of his throat. Every season, in all kinds of weather, they sit together on Shen Qingqiu’s porch and stare at the forest behind the house. Shen Qingqiu curls up against him, Luo Binghe talks about this or that. They hold hands. They enjoy the moment of shared space, bodies pulled together like magnets. Unable to stay apart for long. 

They find other ways to vent the desire building between them. Shen Qingqiu becomes surprisingly protective of Luo Binghe. Every time the brat sustains any kind of injury, Shen Qingqiu immediately rushes to his side. If Luo Binghe scrapes his knuckles grating potatoes for their soup, Shen Qingqiu goes to him with a wet cloth, dabbing the scrape as he berates him for being careless. If Luo Binghe seems breathless after carrying a load of firewood that might have been too heavy, Shen Qingqiu hurries to wipe his brow of sweat, pushing a cold drink into his hand. 

He knows it’s excessive. He can’t stop. The moments where his hands clasp Luo Binghe’s, where he can worship those hands he loves so much, the hands that speak his language in such a profoundly beautiful way. Where he can touch Luo Binghe’s face, smell the sweaty, manly aura wafting off of him…these moments are too precious to Shen Qingqiu. 

Luo Binghe visibly brightens under his shiuzn’s touch. Like a flower bending towards the light.

It’s alright if he coddles this disciple, Shen Qingqiu thinks. He is making up for his wrongdoings in the past, the way he used to treat him. He’ll show his appreciation and love for Luo Binghe in a way that feels safe. Through these innocent gestures that are uncalled for and that last far too long. 

He’ll keep Luo Binghe close to him. That’s the best he can do. 

It should be enough.

_________________________________

Soon, a day that Shen Qingqiu dreads more than anything arrives.

The Immortal Alliance Conference.

If meetings with the other peak lords are bad (and they are), the Immortal Alliance Conference is a thousand times worse. He’ll be around people that he’s not used to, who speak in patterns he’s not familiar with. He won’t be able to read their lips. Especially because his residual hearing is entirely gone. At this point, he would call himself deaf. 

If he can’t hear any voices, if he can’t read their lips…how will he understand anything that’s being said?

Simply put, he won’t. 

The day of the conference, he sits on the dais in a state of borderline panic. Heightened anxiety prolonged over several hours leaves him jittery, uncomfortable, and irritable. 

He hates this shit. This conference is nothing but a way for the sects to show off their new blood by putting disciples on display. It’s a waste of time! 

The old palace master is speaking at length. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t understand a word. He constantly scans the crowd of sect leaders to know when he is supposed to clap or nod or what kind of expression he should wear. He fans himself to hide his face as much as possible, in case he guesses wrong. 

He spots Luo Binghe in the throng of disciples. He is trying not to stare at him too much, but his eyes keep wandering back. Pulled to Luo Binghe by the force of gravity. Impossible to fight.

In fairness, Luo Binghe hasn’t stopped staring at Shen Qingqiu. He’s not even trying to hide it!

That beast. Shen Qingqiu told him to pay attention to the speech! So he can ask him later if there was anything important. 

Although Luo Binghe’s steadfast gaze is so reassuring…

Those eyes see him. They know him. They know what he’s going through. When this is done, they can go back home and Luo Binghe can explain everything in sign language. He can regale his shizun with tales from the hunt. He’ll probably sprinkle in some of his dry humor, wringing a reluctant laugh out of him. 

Imagining the pleasant evening ahead helps Shen Qingqiu calm down. At least there is something to look forward to. Whenever this nightmare ends.

So far, he has been able to avoid most conversation. Mu Qingfang approached him in the beginning—who the hell told him to grow a mustache? With that covering his lips, Shen Qingqiu didn’t catch a single thing he said! He waited for Mu Qingfang to finish before calmly saying, “Let us enjoy the conference, Mu-shidi.” 

The glaring looks he got from several people afterward were a sign that such a response was not the right thing to say at that moment. But, oh well. Pissing people off sometimes works even better than guessing right—at least they’ll leave him alone!

When the old palace master is finished speaking, fireworks explode overhead. The accompanying ‘boom’ is the first sound Shen Qingqiu has been able to hear in a while. It startles him, leaving an uncomfortable ringing in his ears. Noises at that volume are the only thing his ears pick up, but the same noises irritate the lingering wounds in those ears. He shifts his jaw and shakes his head to rid himself of the ringing. 

It doesn’t help.

Great. 

While he is still adjusting, something suddenly grabs his shoulder. He nearly jumps out of his skin! 

But it's just Yue Qingyuan again. Damn it—!

Not heeding Shen Qingqiu’s obvious panic, Yue Qingyuan immediately launches into a monologue. His face is open and kind, the way it always is in front of others. Placid and gregarious. The quintessential sect leader. 

Shen Qingqiu forces himself to calm down. To stop the tide of anger rising inside. It’s not Qi-ge’s fault for scaring him. He didn’t know. He’ll never know, that’s the way it has to be. However, right now, like many other times in their lives, Shen Qingqiu truly wishes he could understand what Qi-ge is saying.

He catches a few words from those stoic lips: “….disciples…today…” Then Yue Qingyuan tilts his head like he’s asking a question. Perhaps he’s making idle conversation about how the disciples will do today.

So, Shen Qingqiu nods. “I have faith in our sect, Zhangmen-shixiong,” he says. “I believe they will all fare adequately.” 

Yue Qingyuan nods with a soft smile. 

Good. His guess was correct. 

Unfortunately, Yue Qingyuan takes that as license to continue the conversation. He looks out the field below and makes several more comments. It seems Shen Qingqiu’s torture sentence is not over. He must continue pretending for a while longer.

He shifts in his seat, trying not to count the seconds.

_______________________

By nightfall, it is clear something has gone terribly wrong. 

Disciples are running out of the field, sending up flare signals for help. No one can remember such chaos at the Immortal Alliance Conference! The disciples who manage to come out of the hunting field are covered in blood, telling frantic stories that Shen Qingqiu cannot understand. 

The peak lords make a decision. They disperse, riding their swords.

Shen Qingqiu has no idea what’s going on. But he knows there is trouble. 

In his heart, one word repeats over and over. Solid and leaden. 

Binghe.

He instantly forgets about the other peak lords. About his need to pretend. About anything that is not Luo Binghe.

The sky is on fire! 

He leaps onto his sword and descends onto the field. Monsters run in every direction! Demons. What on earth is going on?! 

Shen Qingqiu registers the sights in front of his face, but he doesn’t care. He scans the field for any sign of Luo Binghe, sending out pulses of qi to search for him. He would recognize that brat’s qi signature anywhere! He must follow it! Let the peak lords and clan leaders call him a coward, running away from the fight. It doesn’t matter! The only thing that matters is the trail of fiery, musky qi that means Luo Binghe is nearby. He’s alive! He’s somewhere here! 

The direction of the qi leads Shen Qingqiu down a path where the air is hottest. Demons run in all directions. He has to descend his sword and fight his way through. He can see a cliff in the distance, along with a gaping hole melding the sky with the ground. 

The abyss. An opening through which many strong demons are coming through from the other side. A portal to the demon realm! What the hell is it doing here? Why now? Why all of a sudden—

Of course, at the edge of the cliff is Luo Binghe. Dead center. That brilliant, meddlesome disciple of Shen Qingqiu’s.

Luo Binghe’s qi is vibrating out of control, surrounding him like a miasma. He is fighting a large demon that keeps trying to pull him into the abyss. He is fighting like a madman! Where did he learn such techniques? His eyes are bright red and his mouth is open, snarling like a beast. His sword is gone, shattered by his opponent, so he’s using his fists and claws to fight—

Claws? 

Dark realization floods Shen Qingqiu. Black and icy. A waterfall cascading onto his head. 

Luo Binghe is a demon. 

How did he never realize before? Were this kid’s powers of manipulation so strong? Was he fooling everyone into thinking he was innocent?! Was he using them all for his own gain—? 

No. Shen Qingqiu shakes his head as he blankly watches the fight. No, Luo Binghe wasn’t using him. If he was, he would have made his move by now! He had hundreds of chances to kill Shen Qingqiu if he wanted! He could have killed him, or worse! He could have done anything to him! They’ve been unguarded around each other for years. 

Those days and nights on the porch. Shen Qingqiu’s head on his shoulder, and sometimes, Luo Binghe’s head in his lap. Long summer evenings and cool winter mornings. So many moments where the only thing passing between them was warmth. Bare, comfortable, and unquestionable. 

Shen Qingqiu can tell the truth from a lie. He is not some naive babe in the wilderness! 

He knows that warmth was real.

So then, this secret…yet another part of Luo Binghe that Shen Qingqiu is seeing now for the first time…did Luo Binghe even know himself? Was he aware he was a demon this whole time? Is he lost, confused? Acting on violent instincts now that the seal on his demonic powers has been broken? 

He doesn’t look lost. He’s beating back a demon twice his size. 

Well.

Whether Luo Binghe knew or not, Shen Qingqiu doesn’t need to question the many days they’ve spent together. That warmth was real. He just knows. 

So, naturally, he runs to his disciple’s side. Sword drawn. He sends a strong push of qi in the direction of the demon, which acts as a barrier. It pushes the demon away like an invisible wall, sweeping the monster to the edge of the cliff. 

“Get away from him!” 

Shen Qingqiu summons every ounce of strength he has. He comes at the demon with the full might of his sword and spiritual energy. He might be snarling, he might be shouting. He doesn’t know for sure. All he knows is that the demon is no match for him. He sends the thing spiraling back into the abyss where it came from. As far away from Binghe as he can manage.

Good.

He turns to Luo Binghe, who is kneeling on the ground holding his head. A bright red demon mark burns in the middle of his forehead. The miasma around his body is unstable. It pulses in time with the mark. Clearly, Luo Binghe is trying to fight whatever these urges are telling him to do. 

Although Shen Qingqiu sustained no injuries during the fight, there is a deep wound in his chest and stomach. Internal. A bleeding gash that throbs when it sees Luo Binghe in pain. His strong boy. His handsome man. 

Why is he suffering? How can Shen Qingqiu make it stop? 

“Binghe.” 

Shen Qingqiu kneels down. Without hesitation, he puts his hands on Luo Binghe’s shoulders—

Only to be met with a face full of teeth. Luo Binghe is snapping at him! Chomping and slashing! Is he itching for a fight? He’s out of his mind! 

Luckily, in such a state, Shen Qingqiu easily overpowers him. He grabs both of Luo Binghe’s hands to stop the onslaught. Then he sends a flourish of his own cool, green tea energy through Luo Binghe’s wrists. Trying to calm him down. 

It works. 

Blinking rapidly, Luo Binghe regains control of himself for a moment. His eyes are clear. He stops struggling. “Shizun…” he says, unable to sign because his hands are being held. 

His face is a mess of emotions. His cheeks are trembling, his eyes are wet. He is scared and desperate. Just barely able to keep his wits. He clenches his jaw as he speaks and Shen Qingqiu can’t understand him. 

Slowly, Shen Qingqiu lets go of his hands, choosing instead to grab Luo Binghe by the collar of his robes. He wrestles them towards the abyss. He has a feeling—

He knows. He knows that, with Luo Binghe unstable like this, there is only one place he should be. 

On every level, Shen Qingqiu understands.

—Shizun!— Luo Binghe signs rapidly, stilted because of their proximity and awkward angle. —I don’t know what’s happening! My body is on fire, everything hurts! Shizun I can’t! I can’t I can’t can’t can’t—

“You’re experiencing a qi deviation,” Shen Qingqiu tells him (he cannot sign while holding him). “Binghe, you are a demon. Did you know this?” 

Luo Binghe squeezes his eyes shut, grimacing. —I thought I could control it! I tried, it was fine and now…—

Ah. 

Shen Qingqiu can see what has happened. 

He can’t fight the stab of betrayal. If Luo Binghe knew, why didn’t he tell him? Why did he keep it a secret? 

The pain must show on Shen Qingqiu’s face. Luo Binghe cries out with a round, open mouth. He grabs Shen Qingqiu’s hand, scrabbling for purchase.

—I’m sorry! Shizun, don’t be mad! I…wanted…wanted…wanted…— He can't finish the thought. 

The raw hunger and yearning in his eyes is on display in all its glory for the first time. 

Shen Qingqiu recognizes it well. Because he has felt the same way. All this time. Even longer. As long as he can remember, his whole life, Shen Qingqiu wanted the kind of thing he has now with Luo Binghe. The understanding. The gentleness. The sense that everything is alright. They see each other, and at the end of every day there is a warm body waiting. A place to belong. 

Shen Qingqiu wanted that so bad. And so did Luo Binghe. They wanted each other! 

But that doesn’t mean…

Hands shaking, Shen Qingqiu reaches for Xiu Ya. 

He knows exactly what he should do. What any reasonable person would do, especially the leader of Qing Jing Peak! Luo Binghe belongs in the demon realm. His qi is running wild, there is no telling who he’ll hurt if he stays like this. Being among his own kind, doing whatever it is demons do with each other in hell, will minimize the damage. Not only that, if his demon heritage becomes public knowledge, the other sect leaders will kill him for sure. Cang Qiong Mountain cannot have a demonic disciple! That wouldn’t be allowed! They would hunt him down and cut off his head without a second thought, indifferent to all the years Luo Binghe has spent in their care. Ties in the sect don’t run deep enough to ignore the physical and political liability of having a demon among their ranks. 

Luo Binghe is not safe here. He does not belong here. He needs to go. He needs the abyss.

Shen Qingqiu is trembling from head to toe. As panicked as he’s ever been. His eyes are twitching. He can’t think. He can’t fucking think! He feels sick. His heart is trying to claw its way out of him, like it’s a living thing with a mind of its own! 

—Shizun!— Tears well in Luo Binghe’s eyes when he sees Shen Qingqiu reach for his sword. —Shizun, please no! Don’t! Please don’t throw me away! I love you!—

“Ngh—!” 

Those words…

They learned those words incidentally but have never signed them to each other. Not once during the many hours they practiced sign language together. When Shen Qingqiu sees those words, something inside him fully snaps. A twig broken straight down the middle.

—I love you! I love you love you love you…— Luo Binghe signs it again and again. Eventually his mouth moves in kind. “I love you. I love you!” 

Shen Qingqiu clenches his teeth against an onslaught of feelings. He can’t think about this! He can’t allow himself to feel the thing melting inside, the part that wants to scream, that wants to—

He needs to…

He raises Xiu Ya. He needs to do this! He needs to stop feeling everything altogether and throw this unruly disciple into the abyss once and for all! He needs to, or else…! 

Or else…! 

With a guttural scream, Shen Qingqiu throws his sword to the ground and gathers Luo Binghe into a smothering hug. He pulls him away from the abyss, shielding him with his arms, his body, and the overwhelming fury that lives within him. He embraces Luo Binghe with everything he has, holding him to his chest where Luo Binghe can feel his beating heart. The heart that is powerless against him. That will always, always choose Luo Binghe. 

No matter what the stakes. 

He peppers kisses onto Luo Binghe’s head, wherever he can reach. He can’t fight it. He can’t! He can’t allow Luo Binghe to suffer! He can’t throw away the only thing in his life that he ever really loved, that has loved him in return. He absolutely can’t! 

He won’t.

He squeezes Luo Binghe until they both stop shaking. He’ll hold him close. He’ll never let any harm come to him. Especially not by his own hand! 

Never. 

Vibrations reach Shen Qingqiu from Luo Binghe’s face. He is saying something. So, he releases him just enough to be able to read his lips—

But he can’t read those lips. Because those lips are kissing him. 

Luo Binghe has a strong, domineering kiss. He grabbed Shen Qingqiu’s chin and crashed their mouths together! He kisses the absolute life out of Shen Qingqiu, somehow draining the iron from his bones, turning him into a jelly that’s about to faint in a puddle at Luo Binghe’s feet. Shen Qingqiu has never been kissed like this! The passion and the unwieldy confidence! The heat that permeates Shen Qingqiu all the way to the back of his head, chasing away the very last of his sanity—

With a yell, Luo Binghe pulls away. The miasma is back. His mark burns so hot Shen Qingqiu can feel the heat rolling off it. That must hurt! It looks like it’s burning Luo Binghe’s skull from the inside out! 

Forgetting his own safety, Shen Qingqiu kisses that burning demon mark. His lips are a soft autumn breeze that gently smothers the fire until it dies down to embers. 

—We don’t have long,— Shen Qingqiu explains (committing to memory the overwhelmed, mollified look on Binghe’s lovely face). —Your qi is out of control and it’s only a matter of time before they find us.— 

—So…—

—Shut up!— Shen Qingqiu pushes Luo Binghe’s hands away to stop any pointless drivel. 

Instead, he grabs Luo Binghe by the wrist. His mind is still not operating at full capacity, everything feels too real and too close. He can only think of one thing to do.

Run.

He leaps onto Xiu Ya, dragging Luo Binghe behind him, and gets the hell out of there.

_______________________________

He doesn’t know where he’s going. He doesn’t even know which direction to fly—just away. Away. 

Maybe he’ll go to Shengyin Village. They’ve been back a few times since that first visit. The villagers arms are always wide open! 

But there’s no way they’ll accept a demon into their village. There are children and non-cultivators. Luo Binghe cannot be trusted to keep himself under control the way he is now. 

In that case. There is only one thing left to do.

Shen Qingqiu swallows his nerves and makes the decision.

After an hour of flying, when they are about halfway to Shengyin Village, Shen Qingqiu settles in a clearing. They are in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by soft, marshy grass on all sides. No civilization, no campfires lining the distance with soft yellow dots. Nothing. Just the damp night and the bugs zipping past their heads. 

Luo Binghe’s miasma is turbulent again. Frenzied. It lights up the marsh with an eerie red glow. 

Shen Qingqiu pulls him closer. He kisses his face and strokes his cheeks to get his attention. When he thinks Luo Binghe is calm enough to listen, he explains.

—Luo Binghe. I have a way to stop your qi deviation. Do as I say and you’ll see.—

They don’t have any more time to waste. 

He spreads his legs and starts removing his robes. Shaky, haphazard. Rushed. He grabs Luo Binghe by the hips, pulling him in between his legs where he can feel….yes, well. The abnormal surge of demonic energy will have this effect.

Luo Binghe’s pillar is rock hard. Operating on sheer instinct, he rubs against Shen Qingqiu’s proffered body. Eyes wide, jaw dropped. He stares at his shizun’s half-clothed body in sheer amazement. 

—Shizun…— Wonderment flourishes in his movements. His hands flow like water. —Is this the way? Like this?—

As an experiment, he grinds his straining cock against Shen Qingqiu’s bare ass. He hasn’t removed his pants yet. He’s just…testing. 

And, oh. Yes. 

They both moan out loud. Shen Qingqiu’s arms wrap around Luo Binghe’s shoulders, and Luo Binghe pulls Shen Qingqiu’s hips closer. Angling his body in such a way. 

Their eyes meet. Caught in each other. They can’t look away! So much passes between their locked eyes, so many things that do not need words in any language. The heat they’ve been dancing around for years has reached a fever pitch. Shen Qingqiu’s legs are shaking! He twitches and moans every time Luo Binghe touches him, especially on his bare skin where…

Damn it. Damn it! Shen Qingqiu is losing it already! Luo Binghe’s hands on his thighs are enough to make his eyes roll back in his head, throbbing from the inside out with a desperate need that has nothing to do with Luo Binghe’s qi deviation. 

The knowing, hungry smile on Luo Binghe’s lips says it all. 

They’ve both been wanting this too long. Way too long. 

—My beautiful shizun,— Luo Binghe signs, licking his lips like the demon he is. —Please, allow me. You know this disciple lives to make you comfortable.—

Yes. 

He does.

—Besides, being a demon isn't all bad.— Luo Binghe nuzzles the inside of Shen Qingqiu's thighs with his nose. Teasing him as he explains. —I studied with a dream demon. He taught me a lot. So then, I could study all of shizun's fascinating dreams.—

...What? 

This fucking brat!

—I'm sure I'll be able to make shizun feel good.—

Shen Qingqiu grits his teeth against his anger and lingering humiliation. In truth, he always thought Luo Binghe might have known about the dreams somehow, in some way. That kid always had a shit-eating grin on his face the morning after Shen Qingqiu had one! He told himself it was all in his head! 

Hmph. Well.

—If you already know all that,— Shen Qingqiu begins, fighting his shivers and blushes. —Then you better make it good.—

Happiness bursts from Luo Binghe's face. —Yes. I will.— He kisses the middle of Shen Qingqiu's stomach. —I promise.—

This time, Shen Qingqiu believes him.

____________________________

—Shizun, are we going back now?—

—No. We’re not.—

—Okay.— Luo Binghe’s hands go silent for a moment. Then, —Are we ever going back?—

A cool wind blows between them. Shen Qingqiu’s gaze volleys between the vast night sky and Luo Binghe’s dark red eyes. 

—No.—

In the end, it’s not a difficult decision to make at all.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

If you’re on your way to Shengyin Village, there is a stop you must make. Just outside the forest, at the top of a long hill some distance away from the road, there is a house. Its exterior is lined with bamboo reeds. Your eyes can track a path inside following those reeds to the rooms within. 

A pair of cultivators lives here. They don’t wear the robes of any sect—most of the time their robes are plain black or greenish blue. But you can’t miss them.

One is tall and thickly built, the other is slim and slight. Beauty and a beast. Memorable, in a word. 

Their home is a little out of the way, but if you’re going to Shengyin Village then you must be seeking medical care. Or perhaps you need something stronger. An exorcism or a night hunt. These cultivators are the protectors of Shengyin Village. They accept all offers to send unwelcome visitors on their way, evil spirits or shady humans. Anything unworthy of the special kind of magic inherent to Shengyin Village. 

That magic is alive and well in these two cultivators. They use the village’s language to communicate, as well as the crafty devices that draw people from all over the world. But the magic runs deeper than that. 

The cultivators can often be seen sitting together on their porch. Signing at length, or sitting quietly in each other’s presence. Enjoying the sights around them. Holding hands. Brushing hair. Smiling softly. 

The love between them is the most memorable thing of all. It’s a taste of the kindness and warmth that can be found in Shengyin Village. At the same time, their intimacy is unique and special. A brand of its own. They are threads that cannot be pulled apart. Interwoven seamlessly. Permanently. 

Their home is a sanctuary. Made just for them. 

They sell talismans that can help you on your journey. If you’ve been struggling, if the road has not been kind, then go in. Tell them what you need. A cup of tea. A stiff drink and a pouch of herbs. A long conversation. 

You’ve come to the right place. 

～～～完～～～