Work Text:
Liu Qingge wakes up. His chin is crusted with blood; his mouth tastes of it. The rusty layer dried onto the front of his robe cracks when he leaps to his feet, heart pounding.
“Qingqiu!” he shouts. His gaze flickers wildly about as he turns. His voice echoes from the walls of the empty cavern. “Shixiong!”
He forces his harsh breathing to settle and his mind to focus, a difficult task when unsteady qi still trembles in his meridians. Panicking won’t help Shen Qingqiu. Liu Qingge extends his senses out, searching. He finds nothing nearby. Not even the traces of turbulent qi that should have lingered after—after—
Focus. Cheng Luan isn’t at his side—worrying—but Liu Qingge has more pressing concerns. Where is Shen Qingqiu?
He dashes out of the cavern and through the twisting paths of the Ling Xi Caves, resenting every second that elapses before he bursts out into the sunlight. He doesn’t pause for a moment. The scenery of Qiong Ding Peak passes him in a blur as he runs toward the Rainbow Bridge.
He hadn’t sensed Shen Qingqiu on Qiong Ding Peak, so he’ll check Qing Jing Peak. If Shen Qingqiu isn’t on Qing Jing Peak, he’ll check Qian Cao Peak. If he isn’t on Qian Cao Peak…
“Halt.”
The single word of command doesn’t stop Liu Qingge, but the voice that speaks it does. Liu Qingge is stunned to see Zhou Lixiang, the long-ascended former sect leader of Cang Qiong, standing stone-faced before him. Unexpected, inexplicable, possibly also worrying. But again, Liu Qingge has bigger concerns.
“Shen Qingqiu,” he blurts first, instead of asking what the hell the former sect leader is doing here, un-ascended. “Where is Shen Qingqiu? Is he alright?”
The former sect leader doesn’t answer. Rather, he stares at Liu Qingge with hard eyes and says, “Who are you?”
The former sect leader has to call the former Bai Zhan peak lord over—and isn’t that another shock—and quite a few tests are thrown at Liu Qingge, but eventually it’s determined that Liu Qingge is, somehow, from the future. That is to say, he’s in the past.
“Fourteen years,” Liu Qingge repeats, reeling. Fourteen!
Naturally, this sort of situation comes with a whole host of logistical issues. And naturally, Liu Qingge decides very quickly that those logistical issues are not his problem. He stays just long enough for the… current sect leader to ascertain that he isn’t a threat to Cang Qiong or the existing Bai Zhan hierarchy, then excuses himself.
“It’s clear that you were concerned for your Shen-shixiong,” the sect leader calls as Liu Qingge turns away, “but that incident hasn’t happened. And considering the relationship between his and your current selves, it wouldn’t be prudent to seek him out.”
“This disciple understands,” Liu Qingge says respectfully. Under the sect leader’s watchful gaze, he heads for the Rainbow Bridge that will take him to Bai Zhan Peak.
He finds his younger self drilling sword forms amongst a copse of the sparse, scraggly pines that make up the most of Bai Zhan’s arboreal vegetation.
“Hey,” he calls.
Xiao Qingge finishes out the last few moves of the form before sheathing his sword with a snap and facing Liu Qingge. He stares for a moment, then his eyes go very wide. “You…”
There’s no point in drawing it out. “I’m you,” Liu Qingge says. “The you of fourteen years from now.”
Xiao Qingge stares and stares. “… How?”
He’s accepted already that Liu Qingge is telling the truth. It makes sense; Liu Qingge has always known himself. He can recognize his own image—even if it’s fourteen years removed. The issue was knowing and understanding others. Especially one “other“.
“An accident.” Liu Qingge’s lips thin at the memory, and he pushes it aside. At any rate, it doesn’t matter now.
Xiao Qingge accepts that just as easily. “Are you the Bai Zhan Peak Lord?” he demands.
Ah, Liu Qingge knows where this is going. “Here I'm not,” and by here he means now, “but yes.”
Xiao Qingge puts a hand on the hilt of his sword. “Fight me.”
“Hm,” says Liu Qingge. He crosses the distance between them and looks down at his younger self. He’s very short. Muscled, but inescapably scrawny in the way of adolescents. Liu Qingge picks up Xiao Qingge’s wrist.
“Hey!”
“Late-stage Foundation Establishment,” Liu Qingge notes with a nod; this aligns with his memories of this age.
Ignoring Xiao Qingge’s protests, he turns the boy this way and that to examine the state of his body. Mm. Yep. Scrawny.
He withdraws his hands and takes a step back. “Well… if you really want to fight me, go ahead.”
Xiao Qingge needs no more encouragement. He draws his sword in an instant and slashes powerfully at Liu Qingge. The air splits beneath his blade. Liu Qingge sidesteps the slash, dodges a stab, deflects a burst of qi, and flattens Xiao Qingge directly into the ground.
“Pffhbt!” Earthworm Qingge puts up a valiant struggle, but Liu Qingge’s boot remains firmly planted on his back. Cheng Luan lies just a handswidth out of reach. Xiao Qingge’s limbs scrabble for a few more moments in the dirt before he goes grudgingly limp.
Liu Qingge lets him up. “Unbalanced,” he advises. “Reflexes are too slow. Consider the angle of your blade more carefully. Your footwork is sloppy, and you favor your left side.” Xiao Qingge is strong for his sixteen years, but it’s easy for Liu Qingge to spot the weaknesses he’d once worked hard to correct.
Xiao Qingge wipes soil off his face and gives a jerky nod. “Again,” he demands.
“Not now.” Liu Qingge turns around and begins walking towards the Rainbow Bridge that connects Bai Zhan Peak to An Ding Peak, Zui Xian Peak, and Qing Jing Peak.
“Wait!” Xiao Qingge shouts indignantly.
Liu Qingge does not wait. He itches to see Shen Qingqiu, to see him whole and uninjured, even though logically he knows that the wounds he inflicted on Shen Qingqiu in his haze of qi deviation wouldn’t have affected the past Shen Qingqiu. No matter what the sect leader said, he can’t relax until he sees for himself that Shen Qingqiu is alright.
“You… L-Liu— Liu Qing… you!” Xiao Qingge chases Liu Qingge down Bai Zhan Peak. “Where are you going?!”
“None of your business.”
“Your business is my business!” Xiao Qingge cries. “You’re me!”
Liu Qingge sighs, quickening his pace. Xiao Qingge hurries to keep up. Whatever—Liu Qingge has places to be and doesn’t care enough to shake him off. Actually…
Liu Qingge stops abruptly and turns around, Xiao Qingge nearly colliding with him. Liu Qingge reaches out and plucks Cheng Luan from Xiao Qingge’s belt before he can react and hops onto the blade.
“HEY!” Xiao Qingge lunges to grab Cheng Luan, but Liu Qingge is already soaring away. “HEY! COME BACK!”
Liu Qingge can feel Xiao Qingge trying to call the sword back to him, but Cheng Luan and Liu Qingge are bonded, and that includes both the past and future him. The older Liu Qingge’s spiritual energy is simply stronger, so Cheng Luan follows his direction.
Liu Qingge glances down to see Xiao Qingge dashing after him over the Rainbow Bridges. Then he looks back up, gaze intent, and flies a straight line to Qing Jing Peak. He lands the farthest up the mountain that is polite and dismounts, heading straight for the northern bamboo groves where Shen Qingqiu liked to spend time as a disciple.
A few curious gazes of Qing Jing disciples follow him as he strides across the peak. Curious and not alarmed, since Liu Qingge discarded his bloodied outer robe on Bai Zhan. Now he just appears like an unfamiliar member of Bai Zhan Peak in an unusual hurry.
“Who is that?” one disciple whispers to another as they watch Liu Qingge’s retreating back.
“I haven’t seen him before,” the second disciple whispers back. “His aura feels strong. Perhaps a jianghu-wandering shishu from Bai Zhan who seldom returns to the sect?”
“Hmm. But what is he doing on Qing Jing Peak?”
Plucked notes ring through the air like teardrops hitting the surface of a lake. The soulful strains tug at the listener’s heartstrings, evoking a deep, almost incomprehensible emotion. While not perfect, this performance already surpasses that of many masters.
But in this moment, Shen Qingqiu is not performing. Sitting in this remote clearing with no audience, he plays not to hone his skill but to lose himself in the slide of the strings against his callused fingers, the rhythm, the melody, the rise and fall of the notes.
When at last the final, crooning notes take flight from beneath his fingers, it feels like bidding farewell. Shen Qingqiu lifts his fingers from the strings. His hands remain hovering over the surface of the qin for a moment, then he withdraws them to fold in his lap.
“Beautiful.”
That voice. Shen Qingqiu whips around. “Liu—!” The annoyed exclamation dies on his lips.
Before him stands not the insufferable head disciple of Bai Zhan Peak, but rather an unfamiliar man. No, it’s not that he’s unfamiliar; his regal face indeed bears a startling resemblance to the Liu Qingge that Shen Qingqiu knows, down to the beauty mark sitting on the curve of his cheekbone. But despite the resemblance and the Bai Zhan robes, he obviously can’t be Liu Qingge. (Barring, perhaps, the strangest cultivation mishap.)
Shen Qingqiu hides his bewilderment and rises. “Greetings to…” He trails off, realizing that he doesn’t know if this Bai Zhan member should be called shixiong, shishu, or something else. His appearance is mature like a man in his prime, but considering the benefits of cultivation, he could be anything from Shen Qingqiu’s martial brother to his martial great-great-granduncle.
Liu Qingge resists the urge to smile. This young Shen Qingqiu hides his confusion well, but the appearance of an unknown person has clearly thrown him off. He meets Shen Qingqiu’s wary gaze. The young man’s face is softer, younger—but his eyes are the same.
“You play well,” he says, sidestepping Shen Qingqiu’s implied question. With the current Shen Qingqiu and Liu Qingge’s fraught relationship, revealing his identity would likely cause Shen Qingqiu to be even warier of him.
His business here is technically finished, as he’s laid eyes on Shen Qingqiu and ascertained his wellbeing. And truly, it’s odd to see him so young: slimmer in the shoulders, softer in the cheeks and jaw, sharper around the edges like a thorned rose. Not that the older Shen Qingqiu ever lost his thorns, but he was better at hiding them til they were needed.
Liu Qingge recalls his impressions of Shen Qingqiu from this time; he thought Shen Qingqiu harsh and unsympathetic, cold and heartless. At this age, Shen Qingqiu was taller than him. The perfect height to look down his nose at Liu Qingge. Now, with Liu Qingge’s older and more perceptive eyes, the twenty-year-old Shen Qingqiu appears slender, small—almost fragile.
Even though his business is done, Liu Qingge can’t find a reason to leave.
Shen Qingqiu’s shoulders tense ever so slightly at Liu Qingge’s compliment. “Thank you,” he responds shortly. His gaze flickers over Liu Qingge, searching for clues to his identity or at least position. Who are you, he wants to demand, but what if it’s a stupid question? Is he supposed to already know this man?
Liu Qingge has had years of practice reading Shen Qingqiu’s body language; this young Shen Qingqiu’s defensive suspicion reads to him like an open book. While the younger Liu Qingge might have taken his curt response as haughtiness or disrespect, Liu Qingge can only feel a bittersweet pain in his heart. Shen Qingqiu suffered too much at this age. Even a simple compliment raises his hackles.
“Yangguan Sandie,” Liu Qingge says, “right? A variation of it.”
Shen Qingqiu’s brows lift. “You recognize it?”
Indeed, it would be surprising for someone from Bai Zhan Peak to be so familiar with musical matters. Liu Qingge is the worst offender. But he has heard variations of this melody for years, of course, from Shen Qingqiu’s very hands.
“Yes.” He speaks honestly when he says, “Though your rendition is the loveliest I’ve heard.”
Shen Qingqiu’s eyes widen, and the tips of his ears shade pink under Liu Qingge’s intent, sincere gaze. “You flatter me.” His voice wavers almost unnoticeably, but Liu Qingge hears it. His chest squeezes. So young, he thinks again. This Shen Qingqiu has only known scorn and jealousy; he has never received another’s admiration, though he more than deserves it. He doesn’t know how to handle genuine praise. The Liu Qingge of this time has never spoken a kind word to him.
How stupid Liu Qingge was back then! How many things he never noticed, how much about Shen Qingqiu he didn’t know! The sharp yet fragile defensiveness of the young Shen Qingqiu melts and hurts him in equal measure. Liu Qingge knows the future him well, but this is a Shen Qingqiu that he never got the chance to know. After all, he threw away the opportunity himself—and had to painstakingly earn it back.
“I speak the truth,” Liu Qingge replies firmly, stepping forward. Now he stands a mere arm’s length away from Shen Qingqiu—a little less than polite distance. “Surely you know your own skill.”
Shen Qingqiu lifts his chin. “I am not insecure in my abilities,” he says, voice sharp, “if that’s what you’re implying.”
“No.” Liu Qingge shakes his head and can’t help the way his eyes soften. He is a man of few words, yet with Shen Qingqiu he can almost imagine himself a poet for the way words fall so easily from his mouth. “But it seems like no one has thought to deliver the praise you are due.”
Shen Qingqiu’s ears, which have almost regained their normal ivory hue, immediately redden again. He opens his mouth but soon closes it again, indignant for lack of words.
“Why would they?” he finally manages, glaring. “I don’t require praise. I am the head disciple of Qing Jing Peak.”
“Do talent and beauty not require praise?” Liu Qingge replies.
“You hardly know me!” Shen Qingqiu snaps. “How can you speak of my talent and—and—”
Liu Qingge huffs in wry amusement. “How could I miss it? Your playing surpasses masters’. You hold yourself with grace and elegance. And you are, really, beautiful.” Ah, he’s reused the same word yet again—poetry isn’t in him after all.
Shen Qingqiu is turning pinker and pinker. Liu Qingge doesn’t spare him.
“See,” he says, voice gentling as he steps closer. He reaches out and takes Shen Qingqiu’s hand in his, so smoothly that Shen Qingqiu takes a moment to register the audacity of the action
“Y-you…!” Shen Qingqiu’s cheeks could light candles. His entire body stiffens, fingers trembling in Liu Qingge’s grasp.
Liu Qingge traces the calluses on Shen Qingqiu’s fingertips. “The hand of an expert qin player,” he murmurs, leaning down, “a skilled swordsman, a diligent scholar…”
As he speaks, his fingers trace the different calluses formed from each of Shen Qingqiu’s endeavors. The hand is slightly different than the one Liu Qingge knows best, but the patterns are the same.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?!” Shen Qingqiu finally regains his wits, snatching his hand away from Liu Qingge with a furious scowl. He’s about to back away when an unwelcome voice rings through the small clearing.
“You… you…!”
It’s actually Liu Qingge this time, Shen Qingqiu notes with displeasure. The boy stands on the other side of the clearing, face painted with appalled shock and eyes glued to the scene. Shen Qingqiu belatedly realizes the picture he and the man make: standing far too close, bodies facing each other, the man’s head dipped towards his. Even without their hands clasped anymore it still somehow feels damning.
Shen Qingqiu quickly steps away from him.
“What?” he snaps at Liu Qingge, tensing in anticipation. If Liu Qingge didn’t want Shen Qingqiu to taint Bai Zhan’s people with his presence, he shouldn’t have let his mysterious shixiong or shibo run off to harass random disciples he found on Qing Jing Peak! Or, what—has he invented some other sin of Shen Qingqiu’s now, and has hunted him down to berate him for it?
Either way, his accusations will surely poke holes in the man’s bafflingly positive opinion of Shen Qingqiu. Liu Qingge is the head disciple of Bai Zhan Peak after all, and regardless of the man’s position on the peak he’ll have good reason to trust Liu Qingge’s words. More than he’d trust Shen Qingqiu, at least.
That’s just fine. It’s not like the opinion of some unknown member of Bai Zan Peak matters to Shen Qingqiu. He thinks of turning up his nose and leaving, but that would look like running away. So he crosses his arms and lifts his chin like a knife, waiting for the inevitable.
Liu Qingge points a shaking finger at the man. “You! Why are you…” He can’t seem to find the right word, and simply skips over it. “—with him!”
Shen Qingqiu bristles. Before he can snap back, the man responds: “Watch your tone.”
“But…” Liu Qingge looks as taken aback as Shen Qingqiu feels.
“Learn some respect,” the man adds, frowning stonily at Liu Qingge. “He’s your shixiong.”
Liu Qingge’s brows draw together in consternation. “But don’t you know?” The question doesn’t sound rhetorical—it’s as if he’s genuinely baffled. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten what kind of person he is!”
“I know very well what kind of person Shen-shixiong is,” the man says, voice hard. “It’s you who knows nothing.”
Shen Qingqiu’s mind spins, having utterly lost the thread of the conversation. “W—”
“Me?” Liu Qingge exclaims. “I’m you!”
“—what… the hell…” Shen Qingqiu finishes under his breath. Has Liu Qingge’s brain finally succumbed to the many hard knocks it’s taken??
The man sighs. He turns to Shen Qingqiu, who quashes the reflexive urge to take another step back. “I should introduce myself,” he says. “I’m Liu Qingge.”
Shen Qingqiu stares.
“From the future,” adds… Liu Qingge? No—that’s absurd.
“Don’t joke,” Shen Qingqiu snaps, scowling.
“I’m not joking.” The man who may or may not be Liu Qingge glances over at the boy who definitely is Liu Qingge.
“It’s true,” Liu Qingge confirms unhappily, glaring at… the older Liu Qingge. “So then why are you defending Shen Qingqiu?!”
“Should I stand here and let you slander him?” Liu Qingge scoffs.
“Slander?” the younger Liu Qingge repeats in disbelief. “He tried to kill me!”
Shen Qingqiu’s face twists. If I tried to kill you, you’d be dead.
“If he tried to kill you, you’d be dead,” says the older Liu Qingge, startling Shen Qingqiu.
Liu Qingge snorts. “Like he could kill me!”
“Want to test that?” Shen Qingqiu retorts with a sneer.
“Ignore him,” the older Liu Qingge says, turning away from his younger self to give Shen Qingqiu his full attention. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
(“Hey!”)
Shen Qingqiu tenses under the weight of the older Liu Qingge’s gaze. “And you?”
Liu Qingge’s lips curve at the edge, tugging upwards into a small, but undeniably true smile.
Shen Qingqiu’s heart thuds despite himself. Pretty-boy Liu Qingge is apparently an even prettier man, those ridiculously beautiful looks carved by maturity and strength. And—Shen Qingqiu has never seen this look directed at him before. It’s an attack against which he has no preparation.
“I know better,” Liu Qingge says softly. He tilts his head. “I know you.”
Shen Qingqiu can’t suppress his skeptical look.
Liu Qingge huffs. “Well, I know the future Shen Qingqiu. But…”
He extends his hand again, and despite seeing the move coming this time, Shen Qingqiu lets Liu Qingge take his hand in his. A heady and terrifying feeling rushes through his veins at his own daring, the wave of it almost too big for his body.
“I’d be honored,” Liu Qingge murmurs, leaning down, dark eyes never leaving Shen Qingqiu’s. “If you gave me the chance to know you, too.” His head dips down. Shen Qingqiu stares, frozen with wide eyes as Liu Qingge’s lips near his knuckles.
“Y-y-you!!” The younger Liu Qingge bodily jumps in between the two of them, knocking Shen Qingqiu back a step. “Stop!”
The older Liu Qingge straightens with a disapproving frown. “What’s wrong with you?” Actually, he knows what’s wrong with his younger self. Thinking back, he probably already had some feelings for Shen Qingqiu at this age; only, he didn’t recognize them and had no idea how to deal with them.
Face flaming, the younger Liu Qingge stammers, “This, this, this—this is inappropriate!”
Liu Qingge raises a brow. “What could be inappropriate about showing my shixiong the respect he deserves?”
Embarrassingly, Shen Qingqiu blushes. This strong older man, calling him shixiong! Even if it’s Liu Qingge, no, especially because it’s Liu Qingge… really too unbelievable!
“And,” Liu Qingge continued, his deep gaze locked intently on Shen Qingqiu, “the admiration he deserves.”
The younger Liu Qingge emits an indescribable noise.
That’s it. Shen Qingqiu is leaving this mountain and never coming back. He grits his teeth, wishing he could strip away the red that he feels burning on his cheeks.
Just then, a familiar presence appears.
“Sh-shizun!” Shen Qingqiu salutes, cursed blush somehow deepening. Dammit, why did he stutter? Does he have no dignity?
The older Liu Qingge greets, “Shibo.”
“Qingqiu,” the Qing Jing Peak Lord says, serene. “Is… Liu-shizi disturbing you?” His judgmental glace lingers over the two Liu Qingges makes it clear that he’s referring to both of them.
At this point in time, Liu Qingge recalls, the Qing Jing Peak Lord didn’t look highly upon Liu Qingge thanks to his conflicts with Shen Qingqiu. He never really warmed up to Liu Qingge in the future either, though his disdain lessened as Liu Qingge worked to make up for his mistakes.
Shen Qingqiu visibly hesitates. “Yes,” he says.
Xiao Qingge scowls. Liu Qingge stifles his disappointment and takes the condemnation in stride; Shen Qingqiu and Xiao Qingge have such a fraught relationship, after all, and this was only one short meeting—
Shen Qingqiu looks over at Liu Qingge, the slightest downward tilt of his face belying a fatally endearing shyness. He meets Liu Qingge’s eyes, cheeks pink but gaze sure. “And… no.”
Liu Qingge’s chest blooms with startled joy. The Qing Jing Peak Lord’s eyebrows rise. “So it’s like this.”
Shen Qingqiu twitches. At this rate, his face is going to be stained red forever. “Shizun…” It’s not what you’re thinking!!
The peak lord addresses the younger Liu Qingge. “Truly, I had little hope for you. But it’s pleasing to see that you eventually learn some sense.”
It’s Liu Qingge’s turn to twitch. “… Thanking shibo for the advice.”
Advice? Shen Qingqiu thinks. That was just an insult…
“While you’re here,” the Peak Lord directs to the older Liu Qingge. “I don’t suppose you could straighten him out. Your shifu certainly hasn’t been doing his part.”
Well, it’s not as if Liu Qingge was planning to let Xiao Qingge continue wreaking havoc on Qing Jing Peak or Shen Qingqiu in specific. “Of course, shibo.” He can practically hear his younger self’s teeth grinding in the background. “I don’t plan on leaving.”
“Oh?”
Liu Qingge’s heart is tender under the weight of ten thousand bittersweet emotions. He smiles at Shen Qingqiu—at the sharp edges he hasn’t yet learned to turn away from himself, and at the softness just barely peeking out. “I have someone to stay for.”