Chapter Text
Of all the times to have a Without-A-Cure flare-up, Shen Qingqiu thinks in distinct annoyance. He took his medicine last week! And brought an extra dose with him on this trip, at Mu Qingfang’s insistence, in case it ran long and he needed it!
At least he hadn’t been flying too high. When he felt his qi begin to stutter, he’d had just enough time to drop down to a more manageable height.
Mostly.
There were trees beneath him, he caught himself!
Idly picking a few leaves out of his hair, Shen Qingqiu surveys his surroundings. He was heading back from the Borderlands; Shang Qinghua couldn’t get out of his responsibilities to the sect or to Mobei-Jun, so Shen Qingqiu took over the duty of checking on their Sun and Moon Dew Mushroom bodies.
Thankfully, it seems like this most recent of attempts has (finally!) taken to successfully growing. They had plenty of the mushrooms to work with, but was harder to start the bodies growing than expected. They had several scares with the first few attempts.
At any rate, they will have more than enough time to finish growing their new bodies before Luo Binghe returns or Mobei-Jun ends up killing Shang Qinghua for his betrayal.
The only odd thing was Huan Hua Palace, out and about so close to the Borderlands. Well, not that surprising, Shen Qingqiu supposes. Their territory butts up against the Borderlands, and they have several outposts in that direction to keep their eyes on the situation out there. If Shen Qingqiu recalls correctly (of course he recalls correctly), it is to one of those outposts that Gongyi Xiao eventually is banished, once Luo Binghe returns to the Human Realm and takes over Huan Hua Palace.
It’s a shame. The few occasions Shen Qingqiu has met Gongyi Xiao, he does seem to be quite a kind, forthright young man.
Shen Qingqiu wishes that Gongyi Xiao was one of the disciples who was out there on the Borderlands. The Huan Hua Palace disciples had been both cagey and rather passive aggressive about Shen Qingqiu being out there. They likely didn’t enjoy the prospect of suddenly being confronted with one of their seniors, especially one from a different sect, when they had so clearly expected to have free rein.
…They weren’t technically in Huan Hua territory out there on the Borderlands, though. They really didn’t have a right to send Shen Qingqiu off, not when he was a Peak Lord and they were in nominally neutral territory. Shen Qingqiu didn’t argue, lest they decide to ask him questions about why, exactly, he was in the Borderlands himself, but he’s considering writing letters to their direct superiors. Perhaps Gongyi Xiao, if he has to, though he doesn’t think it needs to go all the way up to the sect leader.
Shen Qingqiu had an excuse for his presence—he’d carefully selected a real case that took him most of the way to the Borderlands, and only checked on the Sun and Moon Dew Mushroom bodies after he completed it—but still. Best not to draw attention to himself.
Best to get back to Cang Qiong soon, too, even if he has to find a carriage to rent or make it the rest of the way on foot. The better to report those disciples. Honestly!
Given how long he flew, the direction he was heading, the mountain he saw in the distance before he (crash-)landed, he’s pretty sure that he’s—
Ah. Hm. Speaking of the Sun and Moon Dew Mushrooms. He’s in Bailu Forest.
Shen Qingqiu groans in dismay. Knowing his luck, he’s landed precisely in the middle of Huan Hua’s maze array.
Bailu Forest is also technically neutral territory, but Huan Hua has laid claim to it anyway. It’s two decades too late to argue about it, no matter how vexing Shen Qingqiu finds it to be trapped inside of a maze array.
Given his flare-up, he won’t be able to fly out of here. Well, given the maze array, it’s not likely that he would have been able to anyway, but it’s nice being able to blame the poison. It’s certainly Without-A-Cure’s fault that he had to land in the forest!
Now he just has to wander around until a Huan Hua disciple sees fit to come and free him.
It’s less embarrassing than when he and Shang Qinghua were trapped by it, at least. Then, the two of them both had fully functioning qi and hadn’t realized what was going on until Gongyi Xiao (politely) pointed it out.
Hmph.
Shen Qingqiu finds a nice tree, with sufficiently large and comfortable roots, and sits down to meditate. Huan Hua Palace can come find him. It’s not as if they won’t have been alerted the moment he entered the forest. He might as well save himself the exhaustion from wandering around in circles.
Shen Qingqiu manages nearly two shichen of meditation before someone comes and finds him. If your trespasser is trapped in a maze array, he supposes there's no real reason to rush.
Unfortunately, his meditation did nothing to actually help with his flare-up. He'll have to wait until he's back at Cang Qiong, where he can get Liu Qingge—or someone from Qian Cao—to clear his meridians.
"Peak Lord Shen," the disciple—or perhaps a hallmaster?—says. He looks to be in his mid-thirties or early forties, for whatever that’s worth when it comes to cultivators. He must have taken a bit longer to form his golden core, or perhaps he allowed himself to age some years after he achieved his core, in order to be afforded a little more respect. Shen Qingqiu assumes that that's what the Old Palace Master did, too.
Certainly that appearance of age has affected how others act around him, in the same way that Shen Qingqiu's own ageless body, paused at a point in his late twenties, occasionally earns him double-takes.
"Apologies to have intruded," Shen Qingqiu says. "This one had no intention to do so, but was forced to land before realizing where he was."
The Huan Hua cultivator accepts this with a nod. "Apologies for the delay in your travel plans," he says in return. "Would Peak Lord Shen care to accompany this one to the Palace to rest overnight?"
Yes, actually, that would be rather nice. Shen Qingqiu meant to be back at Cang Qiong by now; several days early, compared to his projected estimate when he left, but with Huan Hua's presence in the Borderlands, he left sooner than he had expected. Even so, when he started flying today, it was already late morning. Several shichen spent flying, plus the shichen trapped in the maze array...it took so long for Huan Hua to come for him that the sun is now low in the sky. Shen Qingqiu had been fully prepared to have to spend the night camping in the forest, if disgruntled at the prospect.
"Many thanks for Huan Hua Palace's hospitality," Shen Qingqiu says, and that's that.
"Peak Lord Shen," the Old Palace Master greets him, after Shen Qingqiu has taken some time to freshen up in a private bathroom and then been escorted to one of Huan Hua Palace's endless number of tea rooms. Shen Qingqiu has never been to the Palace before, but he read plenty of descriptions of it in Proud Immortal Demon Way.
“Palace Master,” Shen Qingqiu greets him courteously in turn. “Please allow this master to offer his gratitude for your invitation to rest and recover in the Palace.” Please don’t ask why Shen Qingqiu needs to recover! Cang Qiong has done its best to keep Shen Qingqiu’s Without-A-Cure poisoning under wraps, but it’s really more of an open secret than anything else.
Fortunately, even the people that know or have made guesses about his poisoning are usually circumspect or courteous enough not to mention it.
The Old Palace Master proves to be one such person as he waves it off, merely saying, “Think nothing of it.” A disciple enters, bearing tea with her, and the Old Palace Master allows her to pour for the both of them and then quietly slip out of the room before he continues. “Huan Hua Palace must extend its apologies for having delayed Peak Lord Shen’s return home to his sect.”
“No need,” Shen Qingqiu says, same as he had to that probably-a-hallmaster in Bailu Forest. Yes, it’s a repeat of ground that he’s already covered, but the niceties must be observed, and it really is convenient for Huan Hua to let him stay. He might even be able to contrive to get someone to clear his meridians. Otherwise, he’s now at least near enough to a city that he can hire a carriage to take him back to Cang Qiong. “I’m afraid it was my own error that caused me to land in Bailu Forest. Huan Hua’s maze arrays are a work of art.”
Not to mention impossible to escape without knowing the way. Especially if you’ve no access to qi.
Shen Qingqiu doesn’t allow his attention to drift toward the ground beneath his feet. He determinedly doesn’t consider what lays in the depths below: the Water Prison, and Shen Qingqiu’s fate.
He has the Sun and Moon Dew Mushroom body! It’s going to be fine!
(He does suddenly remember that this is one of the many reasons he’s never before come to Huan Hua Palace.)
“That they are,” the Old Palace Master says. “Still, it’s unfortunate for one of our allies to have been caught in it.”
Shen Qingqiu takes a long sip of his tea. He already said it was fine! It’s not even like this is the first time! He’s not going to admit the second part, though; if Gongyi Xiao reported back to the Old Palace Master about him and Shang Qinghua tromping around in Bailu Forest, hopefully he didn’t say anything about them being trapped there. He’s pretty sure Gongyi Xiao didn’t even realize that in the moment; Shen Qingqiu is confident that he, at least, managed to play it off to Huan Hua’s head disciple.
Shang Qinghua, he’s less sure about.
“Every sect has its secrets,” Shen Qingqiu says, setting down his teacup. Huan Hua’s are the designs of their maze arrays, Zhao Hua has their barrier and protective arrays, Cang Qiong has—well, Cang Qiong has quite a lot of distinct, proprietary sect secrets, at least one for each peak. And of course every sect in the jianghu has their own style of cultivation, their own cultivation manuals, their own way to create spiritual weapons…
Plenty of secrets to go around!
“Indeed,” the Old Palace Master says. His voice sounds a bit colder.
Shen Qingqiu takes another sip of his tea while he thinks. Surely the Old Palace Master didn’t take offense from that, did he? Shen Qingqiu was remarking on the sect’s defenses! Even if Bailu Forest isn’t technically inside the sect.
The Old Palace Master doesn’t think Shen Qingqiu was trying to scope out their maze arrays, right? That’s not where Shen Qingqiu’s talents lie. He would have to watch them being placed. Even then, he’s not sure he would understand all the details that go into making one. It’s not a topic he’s ever had much cause to study, nor is it taught on his peak.
Ah, he really didn’t want to get tangled up in intersect politics today. Maybe he should have denied the invitation to stay at Huan Hua after all. The prospect of having to be polite and politic, when he has apparently already offended the Old Palace Master, is giving him a headache.
Nothing some more tea won’t fix, surely.
Usually, Shen Qingqiu self-medicates with tea. He has medicinal blends from Mu Qingfang, of course, but even barring those blends, there’s something to be said of how nice it is to sit down with a warm cup. The placebo effect, or whatever amount of caffeine tea holds—fuck, he misses coffee—or the like.
The Old Palace Master has a lovely blend on hand. Green, but with a earthier note to it than most of Shen Qingqiu’s own blends, mixed with honey and...lemongrass, he thinks. Before Shen Qingqiu realizes it—likely before propriety asks for it—he has drained his cup.
“Allow me,” the Old Palace Master says, all geniality once more. He brushes off Shen Qingqiu’s attempt to serve himself, not even bothering to call the disciple back into the room.
“Thank you,” Shen Qingqiu murmurs, taking his refilled tea cup. He intends to savor this one longer. Though that begs the question: “May this master inquire as to the blend? It’s quite lovely,” he adds on the end, not quite hasty, but trying to get across that he does genuinely enjoy the offered tea. If his drinking the first cup wasn’t so obvious a sign. He’s not sure the Old Palace Master has even touched his yet!
“A blend of my own,” the Old Palace Master says with a smile. “I’m afraid this must be considered another one of those ‘sect secrets’ Peak Lord Shen mentioned earlier.”
Huh. Shen Qingqiu hadn’t realized.
“Does the Palace Master often blend his own teas?” Shen Qingqiu asks politely.
“On occasion,” the Old Palace Master says. “Over the years, I’ve, ah, acquired a taste for it. Setting one’s own standards does have its benefits.”
Shen Qingqiu acknowledges this with a gentle incline of his head. Not that he has ever blended his own tea, or made food other than microwave meals or too-watery congee as Shen Yuan, but he understands the conceit behind it. Isn’t that similar to the philosophy behind Luo Binghe always cooking for his wives?
Ah, Luo Binghe…
He truly misses that child.
“Peak Lord Shen.”
Shen Qingqiu blinks. “Apologies, this one…would the Old Palace Master mind repeating his question?” Then maybe he can draw this teatime to a close, as quickly as is still polite. The tea doesn’t seem to be helping his headache, worse luck.
“I was only curious about Peak Lord Shen’s most recent mission,” the Old Palace Master says. “Several of Huan Hua’s cultivators are out at the Borderlands, where the threats are most obvious, but if Peak Lord Shen had any insights into the surrounding territory that he would be willing to share…”
Well, it’s—they are allies, aren’t they? It hurts nobody to tell the Old Palace Master about the actual mission he went on recently (an angry ghost) rather than his secondary, more discreet mission further into the Borderlands.
Mm, he can see if he can wend his way toward mentioning those cultivators at the border. If those are the cultivators that the Old Palace Master meant, perhaps it’s worth mentioning to the Old Palace Master how presumptuous and territorial they were acting. So long as he can figure out a way to word it that won’t be taken as an attack.
The headache really isn’t helping with that.
Shen Qingqiu gives the Old Palace Master a rundown of his mission, using the pauses where he drinks tea to conceal the throb at his temples. The Old Palace Master pours him a third cup as he talks.
“And the Borderlands?” the Old Palace Master prompts, when he finishes. Both his third cup of tea and his summary. Shen Qingqiu stares mournfully down at his empty cup. The Old Palace Master fails to pour him a new one.
Oh, wait, but he asked—yes, Shen Qingqiu can talk about the Borderlands! What does the Old Palace Master want to know?
“What about the Borderlands?”
“What did Shen Qingqiu see while he was in the Borderlands today?” the Old Palace Master asks, leaning forward.
Lots, and nothing at all.
“It’s very empty,” Shen Qingqiu says. He lets the words drip freely from his mouth. The headache—it must be a migraine, this can’t be normal—takes too much of his focus to be concerned about what’s coming out.
The Borderlands have plenty of space for their gardening project, but there’s little else there. A few scattered towns, eking out lives as best as they can; Huan Hua’s outposts, obviously; the thin barrier between the realms, which Shen Qingqiu has yet to cross, no matter how curious he is.
Servitude to a demon king or not, Shang Qinghua is pretty lucky to be able to visit the Demon Realm. Shen Qingqiu is quietly jealous of him on occasion.
“Yes, but I had heard you encountered some of my senior disciples there,” the Old Palace Master says. “Tell me, Shen Qingqiu, what happened? I’m interested in hearing every detail.”
Honestly, there’s not much to tell.
Shen Qingqiu had assumed they were doing a regular patrol. It was a bit far from any of Huan Hua’s outposts—he and Shang Qinghua hadn’t wanted to make their gardening project too obvious—but it wasn’t a terrible distance away from a town, especially if you traveled by sword. They could well have been dealing with a disturbance reported by that town.
Certainly they’d seemed prepared to fight demons, given how kitted out they were and how entrenched their camp was, but Shen Qingqiu doesn’t typically patrol the Borderlands. Plus he spends so much time with Liu Qingge, and before that Luo Binghe, that his sense of what standard disciples might need for such a patrol is skewed.
…Especially if he considers Huan Hua Palace’s performance during the Immortal Alliance Conference. He doesn’t mean to insult junior disciples of another sect, but they really didn’t make a good showing.
“Hm,” is the Old Palace Master’s response to this somewhat stumbling explanation.
Shen Qingqiu is grateful for the short reprieve while the Old Palace Master seems to turn that over in his mind. He feels very lax and loose, the almost dizzy kind that comes from being drunk; it hid itself underneath the headache for a while, but now it’s become strong enough that Shen Qingqiu is quite distinctly feeling those effects.
The headache—migraine—whatever it is—has also progressed. There are little spots in Shen Qingqiu’s vision. He’s pretty sure they’re typically supposed to be black, aren’t they? These aren’t black.
They’re blue.
Not the blue of the System, not quite, but similar enough that Shen Qingqiu’s attention keeps being caught by them, sure that it’s the System lurking in his peripheral vision. Well, if it is the System somehow, for some reason, then it had better stop it!
You hear that, System? he demands silently. Stop that!
[Greetings!] says the System. [System is currently in Low Power Mode. Many services are currently unavailable. Please address any questions to the automated AI interface.]
Oh. So it really wasn’t the System, then?
“Shen Qingqiu.”
Shen Qingqiu’s head lolls as he returns his attention to the Old Palace Master. It’s so much effort to keep himself upright. The blue continues spreading out through his vision.
It’s rather rude for the Old Palace Master to address him like that, so he can’t get mad at Shen Qingqiu for not maintaining the perfect posture expected of him.
Shen Qingqiu blinks, and the Old Palace Master is up and around the table. He’s tilting Shen Qingqiu’s head even further back, examining—his eyes?
“Strange,” the Old Palace Master murmurs. “It must be reacting to—are you taking any medication?”
“Mn,” Shen Qingqiu says. “For the—“ He waves a hand. Well, flops it, more like. “Without-A-Cure.”
“Tell me more. What happened? What are the effects? The medication?”
“Got poisoned during Sha Hualing’s invasion of Cang Qiong. One of her demons coated his armor with it,” Shen Qingqiu elaborates. “It affects both my qi and blood; untreated, both would continue to coagulate, stagnate, and eventually kill me. Mu-shidi devised a medicine to hold off Without-A-Cure’s effects, and Liu-shidi often clears my meridians for me. Mu-shidi is very insistent that I take my medicine on time. He even made me bring my next dose along on this mission.” Shen Qingqiu frowns. Is that everything? Oh, no. One more thing. “Sometimes I have flare-ups. I can’t move my qi unless someone clears the blockages for me.”
“Interesting,” the Old Palace Master says. “How do you feel right now?”
“…Floaty,” Shen Qingqiu decides eventually. “Blue.” In point of fact, he gets distracted, watching the blue as it finishes swallowing up the world. It’s like he’s peering through a layer of tinted glass.
“Tell me what that means,” the Old Palace Master says.
Shen Qingqiu was going to tell him anyway, but the blue is immediately insistent about it. It wraps itself around him, a smothering blanket, a hand drawing him forward, a demand for action. Shen Qingqiu doesn't have a choice in the matter.
"The blue is everywhere," he tells the Old Palace Master. "It wants me to obey. It's rude about it." He scowls. It’s meant for the blue, but since the blue is everywhere, he’s really just…glaring around the room.
“Eyes on me,” the Old Palace Master says, and Shen Qingqiu’s gaze snaps back to do exactly that.
“Oh my,” the Old Palace Master says. “Shen Qingqiu, do you even know what a gift you’ve just given me?”
No? It's good that the Old Palace Master seems pleased, though. Shen Qingqiu was concerned about offending him earlier, wasn't he? Politics between the sects.
He doesn't want to think about that. His migraine has finally settled down to a low ache at the very base of his skull. That’s significantly better than it was before, if still aggravatingly painful and present. He wasn't lying when he told the Old Palace Master he felt floaty. He does. He's also exhausted, like he could float his way right off to sleep.
The Old Palace Master won’t let him.
"Stand up," the Old Palace Master says.
Shen Qingqiu does.
"Give me your sword."
Shen Qingqiu does.
"Smash your teacup."
Shen Qingqiu does.
The Old Palace Master pauses. A smile, considering and cruel, grows on his face.
"Hurt yourself," he says softly.
That's easy. Shen Qingqiu simply presses down on the shards of the teacup, blood welling as the sharp edges bite into his palm.
The Old Palace Master's smile grows wider.
"Fascinating. So pain doesn't draw you out of it, either." He prowls a long, slow circle around Shen Qingqiu. "Which component caused this, I wonder...ah, no matter. We'll have plenty of time to experiment." He draws closer, pressing a touch against the curve of Shen Qingqiu's jaw. "Won't we?"
"Mn," Shen Qingqiu says agreeably.
"Shen Qingqiu, Shen Qingqiu...with such an adverse reaction, how could I bear to let you go?" The Old Palace Master shakes his head. "You really shouldn't have gone to the Borderlands, nor Bailu Forest, and you certainly shouldn't have come here." His grip tightens, thumb digging into the edge of Shen Qingqiu's jaw as his fingers curl around the back of Shen Qingqiu's neck. "Now, it's time you gave me some answers. Gongyi Xiao reports you were in Bailu Forest some months past. Answer me truthfully and completely: what were you doing there?"
Well, that’s rather a long story, isn’t it? But the Old Palace Master did ask for him to completely explain his reasons, so—
[Warning! Automated reminder: Host is not allowed to share information regarding transmigration or this System!]
That’s nice. Shen Qingqiu is going to tell, though. The blue and the Old Palace Master want him to.
[Emergency Protocol 62/87B initiated. System temporarily online.]
[Scanning…]
[Scanning…]
Shen Qingqiu opens his mouth. “I was looking for—”
[Scanning…]
[Analysis complete!]
[Temporary Host shutdown initiated. Memory controls: locked.]
[System re-entering Low Power Mode. Please reconnect to Universal Key: Luo Binghe in order to regain battery life. Goodbye!]
Shen Qingqiu collapses.
(The Old Palace Master stares irately at the cultivator collapsed at his feet. Right as he was about to get his answers, too! It remains to be seen if said collapse was due to the strange new effect of the Double-Flowered Butterfly Pea running out, if he asked something that Shen Qingqiu was willing to fight the flower to hide when even pain wouldn’t break him out previously, or if it was a secondary side effect to go along with its other new effect. Shen Qingqiu had been terribly loose-limbed since the second cup of tea, after all.
We’ll see what happens when he wakes, the Old Palace Master decides.
He stoops down and peels open one eyelid. Shen Qingqiu’s iris is still a bright, piercing, unnatural blue. How odd.
The beauty of the Double-Flowered Butterfly Pea is twofold, like the petals it’s named for. Said petals are often used to make tea, yes. The petals dye the tea blue, and the tea itself is a lovely, light blend. The seeds, though…
The seeds have a very interesting property.
When infused with qi and then ingested by a secondary party, they induce the loosening of the consumer’s inhibitions. It’s similar to alcohol in that way, though the suggestibility accompanying those lowered inhibitions is not, nor how the suggestibility is is linked to whomever infused the seeds with qi.
It’s so easy to get people talking with their defenses lowered, and the only sign is—or should be—a thin blue ring around the pupil. One that fades quickly after the seeds have filtered their way through the host’s system.
The Old Palace Master has long known about the suggestibility. He’s used it to his advantage more than once, always taking care to use it in situations without other witnesses. Usually the effects are much more subtle, and the Old Palace Master is as well, though he has contingencies in place for the times where he’s had to push too hard to get the answers he seeks. Most often he’s able to simply suggest to his target that they consider the conversation they just had unimportant, unworthy of being thought about later.
This is an entirely new situation that he finds himself in.
The effects of the Double-Flowered Butterfly Pea have never, in all the time he has used it, extended all the way out into utter, unthinking obedience. Shen Qingqiu did exactly as he was asked, when he was asked.
Ah, not asked. Ordered.
So very many new possibilities have opened up before him.
Earlier today, one of his senior disciples reported back to him, having flown from the Borderlands back to Huan Hua Palace. She reported Shen Qingqiu in the Borderlands, and how he had interfered with their mission—a mission, mind, that they should have been able to complete easily and as subtly as he had told them to! These were not young disciples, to have so bungled a mission; these were senior disciples, ones who completed similar such missions previously.
He supposed they must have grown complacent.
The Old Palace Master, too, had become complacent. For so many years, he’d thought old business over and done with. Xiyan was gone, disappeared out into the wild. The Old Palace Master had to assume her long dead; determined as she was, she would have come seeking vengeance long since if she was yet among the living. Undoubtably the dying child in her womb had poisoned her from the inside out, dragging her down into death with it.
Or so the Old Palace Master assumed, until he saw Luo Binghe at the Immortal Alliance Conference.
He was the spitting image of Su Xiyan, and his age—his age—!
He couldn’t be anyone other than Xiyan’s child. And that demon’s.
A fact further proven when demons invaded, and the Abyss cracked open. Over it all, the Old Palace Master felt the soaring power of a demon’s qi rushing into the air. That amount of power could only belong to a Heavenly Demon.
It could only belong to Luo Binghe.
Of course, by the end of the Conference, Luo Binghe was lost. Fallen to demons, Shen Qingqiu said.
The Old Palace Master doubted that. He had kept his silence, though, and contemplated how best to use this when Luo Binghe inevitably returned. That child wasn’t dead. He had survived this long. It had taken far more to stop his father.
Still, while the Old Palace Master waited for Luo Binghe to reemerge, he had addressed his recent complacency. Demons should never have been able to invade the Immortal Alliance Conference.
He learned from his mistakes with Xiyan and Tianlang-Jun. Then again, there were no great threats like Tianlang-Jun anymore. Even the Northern Kingdom and Mobei-Jun—whichever Mobei-Jun it was these days—were not so dangerous as an emperor of the Demon Realm. So the Old Palace Master returned to the tried and true method: exterminating demons where he could.
Even if that happened to be across the borders.
Occasionally—not often—he sent out capturing parties. It was the best way to experiment, after all. How could one find the best ways to poison demons, to contain demons, to make demons suffer, if one had no demons to experiment upon?
Of course he knew that such excursions and experiments would be easily misunderstood. The same way many of Huan Hua Palace’s methods could be so easily misunderstood. It was best to keep them secretive, undiscussed, known only to select few within the sect.
If anyone else happened to find out too much…well, accidents also happened so easily.
In truth, the Old Palace Master was quite prepared to arrange such an accident for Shen Qingqiu, depending on how much he saw. That, or find a way to discredit him. Better would be to get him to Huan Hua, best of all tucked away in the Water Prison so that the Old Palace Master could interrogate him at his leisure.
Even if Shen Qingqiu hadn’t seen anything—as during their tea he clarified he apparently had not—it could only be to the Old Palace Master’s benefit if the Peak Lord was made accessible to him.
The jolt of confusion, fear, and rage that went through him when, months ago, Gongyi Xiao told him that Shen Qingqiu and Shang Qinghua were wandering through Bailu Forest, far too close to Bailu Mountain…
No. He needed to know what—or who—Shen Qingqiu had been searching for. He kept Luo Binghe on his peak. He was in Bailu Forest. Who was to say that he didn’t have other connections with Heavenly Demons? Who knew what was going on behind the mask, inside the mind of Cang Qiong’s strategist?
Events aligned perfectly for the Old Palace Master. He purposefully delayed the retrieval of Shen Qingqiu from the maze array, to force him to come to Huan Hua Palace. He instructed a few senior disciples—those helpful with demon extermination missions, those whose loyalties he was assured of—to keep the route to his chosen tea room clear of anyone else who might see Shen Qingqiu. He had the same disciple who reported back to him from the Borderlands prepare his Double-Flowered Butterfly Pea tea blend.
It was a risk, leaving Shen Qingqiu to his own devices for so long in Bailu Forest, but one the Old Palace Master was willing to take. He would have his answers soon enough.
And now, he doesn’t have his answers, not quite, but they’re so close to him. Even better, he has Shen Qingqiu completely under his power.
A Peak Lord! Completely bound to obey him!
Oh, the things he could make Shen Qingqiu do…
It’s intoxicating.
He settles himself on the ground next to the man. Even unconscious, his is such a cold, haughty beauty. The Old Palace Master runs his thumb along the curve of Shen Qingqiu’s cheekbone, the swell of his lips. Then he reaches further down, trailing along Shen Qingqiu’s chest until he can pull the qiankun pouches from his waist. It’s only a few moments’ work to find the small bag of medicine contained within one of them.
Perfect.
He’ll get one of his healers—discreet, understanding, complicit in many of his experiments—to look over it, picking apart what it’s made of. If the Old Palace Master remembers correctly, Mu Qingfang published a new treatise on poisons and antidotes a year or two back. Conveniently, he included several new recipes in it; presumably, one of them will match the ingredients in Shen Qingqiu’s medicine, and Huan Hua will be able to make it themselves.
Huan Hua Palace would never allow that information to spread so easily. They would, and do, hoard such knowledge to themselves, forcing any who wished to use it to pay for it. Cang Qiong is too soft-hearted.
It works to the Old Palace Master’s benefit now.
If they’re to keep Shen Qingqiu, and if they’re to replicate this obedience effect, they need that recipe, without alerting Cang Qiong as to what they’re doing.
Let Shen Qingqiu disappear mysteriously on his mission. He wasn’t supposed to be in the part of the Borderlands he left from. Given that one of the Huan Hua cultivators discreetly trailed Shen Qingqiu, it doesn’t seem he communicated with anyone before landing in Bailu Forest. If anyone comes asking at Huan Hua Palace, he’ll simply deny Shen Qingqiu’s presence. Only a handful of people even know that Shen Qingqiu entered the Palace, and none of those would share that information.
He’ll have to figure out some way to disguise Shen Qingqiu, but he already has ideas for that.
Yes, this will work out quite nicely.
“Shen Qingqiu,” the Old Palace Master murmurs to the man lying in front of him. “We’re going to do such wonderful things together.”)
(For all of the Old Palace Master’s hopes, it can’t be that easy.
When Shen Qingqiu wakes again, utterly disoriented, it takes no more than a few questions to realize he remembers nothing, though the obedience remains.
The Old Palace Master isn’t going to let go of Shen Qingqiu, even if he doesn’t remember what he’s done. He ties Shen Qingqiu to Huan Hua Palace, and he has to think quickly to come up with a name, but it’s not difficult. He’d been considering potential aliases while Shen Qingqiu was unconscious.
The newly named Hua Xunshun quickly falls back asleep at a suggestion from the Old Palace Master, which gives him time to contemplate the reasons behind this memory loss.
Yet another side effect? Or is it a flaw in Shen Qingqiu himself? The Old Palace Master supposes he has plenty of time to find out as he experiments. There are so many cultivators no one will miss, down in the Water Prison.
If it is a side effect, the Old Palace Master may yet find a way to reverse it. If it is a flaw in Shen Qingqiu…
Well, even without his answers, even with the demonic poison swimming through his veins and meridians, there are plenty of other uses for a cultivator of Shen Qingqiu’s power and talent.
Plenty of uses indeed.)
Hua Xunshun—Shen Qingqiu—he’s Shen Qingqiu—he—what—oh, god—
“Shizun,” Luo Binghe says, and Shen Qingqiu nearly screams in pure, mortal terror. The Protagonist is leaning over him, pinning him into place; his blood parasites are inside him; Hua Xunshun’s voice is in his head whispering trust him even as it also speaks of hands touching him—
Shen Qingqiu writhes, trying to escape the sense memory. Luo Binghe lets go of his arms, his weight shifting, and this time Shen Qingqiu really does scream.
“Don’t touch me!”
Luo Binghe pulls back, hurt splashed across his face.
“Get off me! Get off, get—”
Luo Binghe scrambles to obey, jolting over to the far side of the couch. For his part, Shen Qingqiu swipes one of Hua Xunshun’s blades from the table where they’d been set and curls into the tightest ball he can manage, knife held threateningly in front of himself.
It won’t do anything to Luo Binghe, of course. Even if Shen Qingqiu could bring himself to overcome Hua Xunshun’s unthinking, absolute trust in Luo Binghe—even if he could ever bring himself to hurt Luo Binghe again, after the Immortal Alliance Conference—such a paltry weapon is nothing in the face of a Heavenly Demon.
It’s more than enough for a cultivator like Shen Qingqiu, though.
The Old Palace Master forbade Hua Xunshun from killing himself. Shen Qingqiu remembers that. Freed of such restrictions, Shen Qingqiu will take that option if he has to, should Luo Binghe—move to hurt him—
He wouldn’t, Hua Xunshun says.
You don’t know what he’ll do! Shen Qingqiu argues. He’s going to torture me, eventually kill me. He’s the Protagonist, he hates me! Why shouldn’t I take my way out first?!
But he’s Binghe, Hua Xunshun says with blind faith. He wouldn’t.
Shen Qingqiu shakes his head, wishing he could shake Hua Xunshun out of his mind. Fists a hand into his hair, or tries to, only to realize it’s still in that damned tail the Old Palace Master had him wear. Still bound with the dark ribbon of his assassination missions. He yanks it out immediately, balling the ribbon up and tossing it away, uncaring of how his hair settles unbound around him. It serves to remind him that he’s still half-naked, actually, robes pulled off so that Luo Binghe could treat his wounds.
Luo Binghe. Even so disoriented, even with the whirlwind of memories and Hua Xunshun’s opinions, how could Shen Qingqiu have stopped paying attention to the current threat?
His attention snaps to the other side of the couch. Luo Binghe hasn’t moved, his hands resting in his lap as he watches Shen Qingqiu and the blade held between them and…and…
There are tears on his face. Not the old ones that Shen Qingqiu remembers, either, because fresh ones keep slipping down Luo Binghe’s pale cheeks.
Don’t cry, Hua Xunshun wants to say so desperately.
Shen Qingqiu bites back the words before they can escape his lips. He can’t—he—
He’s Binghe, Hua Xunshun insists. He’s Binghe. He’s everything, he’s the center of the world, he’s so important and precious—he won’t hurt us. It would be so much better to be held by him than by the Old Palace Master.
Shen Qingqiu shudders at the thought. Loathe as he is to admit it, Hua Xunshun has a point. Or, well, he did before Luo Binghe knew who was hidden behind the mask. But at least Luo Binghe wouldn’t—wouldn’t—
Shen Qingqiu wants to scrape his skin off. He wants to claw, all the way down to bone, until there’s nothing that remains of where the Old Palace Master touched him. He wants a new body, just so he can say the Old Palace Master has no hold on him, no way to turn his own body against him or ever touch him again—
Luo Binghe slides off the couch. Shen Qingqiu stiffens to wire tightness again. Luo Binghe takes tiny steps forward, approaching Shen Qingqiu. Shen Qingqiu is frantically calculating how much force it would take to shove a knife through his own sternum—perhaps it would be better to slit his throat—will the Sun and Moon Dew Mushroom still catch his soul? Does that even matter—?
Luo Binghe removes his outermost layer and offers it to Shen Qingqiu, sinking down to one knee so that he isn’t towering over Shen Qingqiu anymore, but looking up at him.
“Shizun’s robes are damaged,” he says, voice rasping.
Luo Binghe is...right. He used his blood parasites to heal Shen Qingqiu's side, but the robes themselves—knocked off the couch and lying in a sad, crumpled heap—have a large, bloodstained rent in the side. Even if the thought of pulling back on clothes given to him by the Old Palace Master didn't make his skin crawl, there's no way Shen Qingqiu could wear them without immediately arousing someone's suspicion.
Hua Xunshun had intended to head back to his quarters and change into a spare set of robes. He hadn’t brought a pair with him
Shen Qingqiu is never wearing that uniform again.
(He can’t even conceptualize the idea of going back to Hua Xunshun’s quarters. Of getting in range of the Old Palace Master again. All of his mind shies away from the thought.)
Shen Qingqiu looks between the offered overrobe and Luo Binghe, waiting there patiently on one knee. It’s so similar to the way he’d knelt in front of Hua Xunshun, sewing up his side, parsing the explanation that Hua Xunshun couldn’t speak aloud. He’s hit with the sense-memory of Hua Xunshun kissing Luo Binghe directly over his zuiyin.
Of Luo Binghe, begging, as heartbroken and desperate as he’d been at the edge of the Abyss.
Shizun, please don't hate me. I'll take you anywhere you want to go, I'll take you back to Cang Qiong, or to the Demon Realm where the Old Palace Master will never be able to find you, but—whatever you want. Just don't hate me.
Don't send me away from you again.
…Why did Luo Binghe help him? Why did he burn the poison out? Just to make sure that Shen Qingqiu would understand why he was being punished?
But then…why tell him that? Hua Xunshun had already completely, foolishly, unreservedly placed his life in Luo Binghe's hands. He made up his mind long before Luo Binghe gave him any assurances. Luo Binghe didn't need to have done that, and—he made it sound like—
I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Shizun, I’m sorry—
It would be so easy for Luo Binghe to incapacitate him. Shen Qingqiu drank his blood. He drank a lot of his blood. Even if he attempts to use the knife against himself, it’s likely that Luo Binghe could heal him before his life is ever in true danger. He's weak and shivering from the aftermath of burning out the blue, and the Without-A-Cure flare-up, and the shock of all his memories as Shen Qingqiu returning to him. Not to mention the bundle of conflicting memories and sensations and half-thoughts that is Hua Xunshun, pushing Shen Qingqiu off balance as he struggles to integrate them.
If Luo Binghe wants to hurt him, he's had more than enough opportunities.
He spent all that time looking for his shizun. And he always looked so...
Sad.
Shen Qingqiu isn't sure whether the thought is his own or Hua Xunshun's. He isn’t sure that it matters.
Shen Qingqiu takes the offered robe.
He pulls it around himself. It's still faintly warm from Luo Binghe's body heat. Shen Qingqiu doesn't bothered with threading his arms through the sleeves, merely draping it over himself. He stays in his huddled corner of the couch, still with Hua Xunshun's knife, but he allows a bit of tension to leave his body.
Luo Binghe, too, stays precisely where he is. He doesn't move any closer to Shen Qingqiu, and after handing off the robe, he shifts only so that he’s kneeling with both knees on the ground, folding his hands neatly in his lap. They stare at each other while Shen Qingqiu's tremors slowly ease.
"Shizun was really here the whole time," Luo Binghe says, breaking the silence. "And no one..."
No one knew. No one found me.
If anyone from Cang Qiong ever asked Huan Hua about their missing Peak Lord, Hua Xunshun was kept well out of the way of whoever visited. Hua Xunshun also has some disturbing gaps in his memories, from the length of time after—from when he'd given up for a time, submerging himself in the blue.
Even with all his memories restored, Shen Qingqiu doesn’t know how long it’s been. Hua Xunshun deliberately tried not to notice, so Shen Qingqiu has no way to properly gauge it. Luo Binghe’s presence…gives Shen Qingqiu a rough idea, though.
In the novel, it took him five years to escape the Abyss.
Shen Qingqiu was escorted into Huan Hua Palace only a year into that span.
He has the sense that the memories of that time aren't truly gone. He could dig them up if he tried, wipe the tinted colors off of them and bring them into focus, understand all that happened, build a complete timeline—but he doesn't want to.
What he remembers clearly is already more than enough.
Shen Qingqiu draws Luo Binghe's robe a little tighter around himself.
[Protagonist Satisfaction Points +5!] the System announces.
You, Shen Qingqiu thinks viciously, because he fucking well remembers the System popping up just before ‘Shen Qingqiu’ disappeared from the equation in favor of Hua Xunshun. And then the System reappearing as Luo Binghe ‘joined’ Huan Hua, with its redacted mission and refusal to explain. Its voice, words indistinct due to the distracting agony he was enduring while Luo Binghe burned the blue out of him. What the hell did you do to me?
[Host nearly violated Terms and Conditions! This System placed a memory lock in order to prevent premature termination of the Plot.]
Terms and Conditions? What Terms and—
The Old Palace Master, demanding to know what he was doing in Bailu Forest. Shen Qingqiu, already opening his mouth to explain the whole sordid tale, including his transmigration.
Oh, god. Yes, yes, apparently the System would have killed him or otherwise punished him if he had told, but more chilling is the idea of what the Old Palace Master could have done with all the knowledge stuffed in Shen Qingqiu’s head. Not only Cang Qiong’s defenses and weaknesses, but everything he knows from Proud Immortal Demon Way. He has literal decades, almost two centuries, worth of knowledge about the world and the future of the jianghu. Artifacts, politics, all of the cultivation or demon clans that Luo Binghe ever interacted with—and fathomless amounts of information about Luo Binghe himself.
What the Old Palace Master could have done with all of that in his grasp is horrifying to imagine.
What he did with only Hua Xunshun in his grasp was bad enough.
And the memory lock wasn’t released until…until he couldn’t ask and have me answer anymore, Shen Qingqiu says. The requirements that I had to meet…I had to get rid of the blue.
[Host is correct.]
Fuck. He could have been stuck like this forever. He could have died with the memory lock still in place. He would have died, sooner rather than later, if Luo Binghe hadn’t interfered and—Shen Qingqiu has no idea if Shang Qinghua has kept their gardening project going, or if it would be ready or able to catch his soul by the time the Old Palace Master tired of him.
He’s been assuming Shang Qinghua would have kept it going after all this time, but what does he know? What if something went wrong with the bodies, again, and there was none of Shen Qingqiu’s blood available to attempt to start anew?
If Luo Binghe hadn’t interfered, the Old Palace Master might well have gotten away with killing Shen Qingqiu twice. Once as Hua Xunshun, and once, before that, at the very moment Shen Qingqiu began to drink his tea.
Shen Qingqiu has the wild urge to start laughing.
Fuck. Fuck! Shen Yuan and now Shen Qingqiu! Killed by food in both lives! How would that look?! At least this time it wasn’t his fault, not beyond trusting that one of Cang Qiong’s goddamn allies wouldn’t purposefully poison one of their guests. The Old Palace Master was so solicitous about filling his cup, after all, and with Hua Xunshun he always made sure he took his medicine.
Shen Qingqiu thought that Huan Hua Palace was a danger because of what it represented, because of what it meant for Shen Qingqiu’s future. He’d dismissed those currently within it as any threat. He’d been looking in completely the wrong direction this whole time.
It’s fucking hilarious, isn’t it? How badly Shen Qingqiu messed up.
It’s really…fucking funny.
He should have taken the System’s penalty at the Immortal Alliance Conference and the edge of the Abyss.
It would have been better for everyone.
Luo Binghe is barely holding onto his calm. Xin Mo is screaming in the back of his head; quite a large part of Luo Binghe is screaming alongside it. He can’t act on that, though.
He can’t scare Shizun.
Luo Binghe thought the worst day of his life was when Shizun pushed him down into the Endless Abyss. Worse than that, far worse than that, is the situation Luo Binghe finds himself in now.
To realize that Shizun has been right under his nose this whole time, that the Old Palace Master has been flaunting it in his face, taunting him with it. To realize that Hua Xunshun—Shen Qingqiu—was being compelled, being poisoned, being forced without other option to act the way that he was. To realize that, despite everything, Shizun managed to fight free for long enough to lay his life in Luo Binghe's hands.
Then to see Shizun beneath him, screaming, clawing at himself. To feel the way his heart tried to stutter as Luo Binghe burned the poison from his body, the way before that the poison had hurt him for disobeying—
To know that it was all the Old Palace Master's fault.
And Luo Binghe's.
Why hadn't he investigated sooner? Why hadn't he dug deeper? Why hadn't he taken Hua Xunshun and spirited him away somewhere safe, or disappeared the Old Palace Master, or done anything at all?
He'd known something was wrong. He'd known it, and he hadn't acted.
So now Shizun is in front of him, falling to pieces, and Luo Binghe can't scare him.
He can't bear to scare him. Not more than Shizun already is.
Make no mistake, Shizun is scared. However good his mask usually is, however controlled his expression, all of that fails him now. Luo Binghe spent his teenage years learning how best to read the slightest microexpression on Shizun’s face, the barest crease of his brow, the faintest upturn of his lips. None of that is needed now. It’s all written over Shizun’s face.
Confusion, and horror, and terror.
Luo Binghe would have obeyed Shizun’s command anyway, but the way he demanded Luo Binghe stop touching him—hatred almost would have hurt less than for Shizun to look at Luo Binghe as though he expects him to hurt Shizun.
Then again, Luo Binghe isn’t sure that Shizun was, or is, seeing him at all.
Kill them, Xin Mo whispers. Kill them all. Kill every single one of them that stands in your way, all of those who chose not to see—
Shut up, Luo Binghe thinks harshly. Not because he doesn’t agree. He does, desperately.
That’s not what Shizun needs of him right now, though.
Strange expressions keep cycling over Shizun’s face. Hua Xunshun’s memories were taken from him, but with the poison eradicated, they must have returned. Shizun must have to recontextualize so much of what happened, backwards and forwards, inside both his own and Hua Xunshun’s memories.
Hua Xunshun…
Hua Xunshun was never scared of him, but Hua Xunshun…he wasn’t a complete person, was he? He was built on pieces of Shizun, Luo Binghe can see that now, but all of those pieces were scattered, pulled together haphazardly, and further confused because of the poison Hua Xunshun was forced to function beneath.
Luo Binghe never looked at Hua Xunshun’s dreamscape. Another mistake on his part. He wonders how nightmarish it had looked.
Shizun’s dreamscape can’t look good right now. He’s assimilating a great amount of memories, memories made undoubtably stranger by how different they must feel to him coming from Hua Xunshun as they do. Luo Binghe is helpless to ease the process at all, except to provide for Shizun’s physical comfort where he can.
He makes no move to take the blade from Shizun. Nor does he dare get any closer to Shizun, given how the full body tremor has only barely ceased. No matter how much he wants to.
Kill them. Rip them apart. Make it slow. Make them suffer for what they did to him. Make them beg for death, and then refuse it to them, over and over again, until they’re mad, until they’re shattered as he was shattered, Xin Mo whispers.
“Shizun,” Luo Binghe says aloud, ignoring Xin Mo. “I know…I know Shizun must be confused, but do you remember what I told you before? What I told Hua Xunshun?”
Shizun’s eyes—green, they’re green again, just like they should be—narrow. He looks Luo Binghe up and down, one hand flexing on his blade, before he slowly nods.
“Tell me what to do,” Luo Binghe says, half begging. “Please, let me help you.”
A long silence falls between them. Luo Binghe aches at it. Hua Xunshun had trusted him so easily. Much like Shizun had, before.
Luo Binghe doesn’t know if Shizun will ever trust him like that again. So long as he doesn’t throw Luo Binghe away for a second time, does it really matter?
“…Out,” Shizun says finally, voice wrecked from the screaming and curse-induced silence and the disuse before that.
Luo Binghe’s heart cracks a bit in his chest.
No, no, don’t send me—
“Get us—out of here,” Shizun clarifies. His gaze sweeps the room—too golden, too cluttered, too different from Qing Jing—and lands on the ribbon he tossed to the floor, the one he tore so violently from his hair. Luo Binghe has seen his master with his hair down plenty of times, but never when Shizun has been so vulnerable.
Shizun quickly looks away from the ribbon. His hand clenches on his blade once more, a seemingly unconscious movement.
Luo Binghe’s breath returns to him and he cleaves to that use of ‘us’ in what Shizun said. He’s not telling Luo Binghe to leave him, merely—having difficulty speaking—
He darts a glance toward the teapot left out on his table. It’s empty at the moment, but that’s easily fixed. Is it worth it, trying to get Shizun to drink anything before they leave? His blood parasites have done a good job patching up Shizun, beyond just taking care of the poison, but even they function better if they have something to work with. Shizun will need to replenish his blood one way or another, and more fluids can’t hurt his overall health.
Then again, Luo Binghe thinks as Shizun follows his gaze and shakes his head, if he was in Shizun’s place, he wouldn’t trust anything given to him at Huan Hua ever again.
That's fine. Luo Binghe will be taking Shizun to receive medical care first thing. His blood parasites have done their work, but Shizun needs a medical professional. If there are any aftereffects from the poison, ones that Luo Binghe has somehow missed—if there are any answers, any way to keep this from happening again—if there is anything still wrong—it won’t be for long. Luo Binghe won’t let it. He needs to be completely assured of Shizun's safety.
Of course Shizun wants to leave.
“Where?” Luo Binghe asks. "Where does Shizun want to go?"
Shizun doesn't answer, frozen in an apparent agony of indecision. Luo Binghe doesn't know what makes it so difficult for Shizun to choose, or if there are other considerations that Luo Binghe simply isn't privy to, but he does know that he's nearly as eager as Shizun to escape this place.
(And then to come back, and burn it all to the ground. Once Shizun is safe.)
"Home," Shizun says. "I want...home."
Luo Binghe can do that. Mu Qingfang is the best healer in the jianghu; Luo Binghe's scattered demonic healers are sufficient for his purposes, but he'll be the first to admit that he largely relies on his blood parasites to deal with any injuries to himself. Which doesn't even go into the fact that his healers are accustomed to dealing with fellow demons. Honestly, he isn't sure he would trust them with a regular cultivator, much less Shizun.
No, Cang Qiong is safest. It's best for Shizun.
(Luo Binghe, too, wants to go home. He wants to return to Qing Jing and the bamboo house—and Shizun. Shizun has always been the central figure making Qing Jing a true home to him. Still, to be back in the sect, with Shizun...it's a dream come true.
Assuming Shizun doesn't send him away, once Luo Binghe has served his purpose helping him to escape.)
"As Shizun wishes," Luo Binghe says. He starts to reach for Xin Mo; pauses, as he thinks to ask, "Does Shizun know what the Old Palace Master dosed him with?"
Shizun shakes his head.
"...Does Shizun have access to an extra dose to bring to Mu-shishu for analysis?"
Shizun's breath goes faint and shallow. Very slowly, he nods.
Luo Binghe turns to the table, sweeping up most of the items there to take back to Cang Qiong. Hua Xunshun's qiankun pouch for his missions, his second blade—the medicine is likely in the qiankun pouch, as Shizun certainly makes no indication that Luo Binghe is wrong in that assessment. The mask is still hanging around his neck; Luo Binghe wants nothing more than to destroy it, but they might need it as evidence.
Is there any other evidence Luo Binghe is missing? Any other item he needs to grab, that Shizun would miss, that would prove what happened here, or that might help Shizun's recovery?
He’s sure there’s something, he just can’t pin it down.
Shizun shifts, unfurling from his tight, defensive ball and scooting his way forward until his feet are on the ground. Luo Binghe pointedly pretends he is paying little attention to this. He can feel Shizun's wary stare digging into the side of his face.
That hurts, but Luo Binghe isn't surprised by it. He's grateful Shizun is speaking to him at all. Is willing to trust him even this far, when Hua Xunshun was treated so—was treated like—
Telegraphing his movements, Luo Binghe turns. Shizun has yet to stand, but he has his right hand against the edge of the couch in preparation for pushing himself up. His left, of course, still holds the blade. If either of Hua Xunshun’s knives have a name, Luo Binghe never caught them, and he never asked, either. They are handy weapons, but neither of them hold a candle to—
Xiu Ya.
The realization hits Luo Binghe like a bolt of lightning. That’s what he was missing.
The Old Palace Master still has Xiu Ya.
There’s no telling where Shizun’s sword is. Huan Hua Palace has countless treasuries—not that Luo Binghe thinks even the Old Palace Master would be fool enough to display Xiu Ya so openly. Then again, if it was sheathed and packed away in a box, it would be so easy for it to remain unnoticed, potentially forever…
No. The Old Palace Master, all his behavior with Hua Xunshun—he wouldn’t hide Xiu Ya away, not like that. He would keep it from dangerous eyes, but he would flaunt it nonetheless. Undoubtably he has his own treasury room, for keeping such items. A trophy.
Would Shizun even know where it is?
Speaking of Shizun, he’s obviously noticed Luo Binghe’s distraction. Luo Binghe speaks before Shizun has to strain his throat by trying to ask.
“Xiu Ya,” he says simply. “Did Shizun ever see it in the Old Palace Master’s possession?”
Realization, chased by dismay and anger flash across Shizun’s face. He shakes his head grimly. His fingers shift, drawing into position for a sword seal—
Shizun lets the seal fall apart before it’s even fully in position. Even with his qi functioning properly, there’s no guarantee that the sword seal would work to summon Xiu Ya. Half the Palace is between them, and that’s without considering that it may well be behind seals or dampening arrays, to keep it hidden or to prevent this exact eventuality.
Not to mention, it would tip their hand.
Frankly, Luo Binghe doesn’t particularly care if the Old Palace Master is alerted to their departure. He’s never going to lay a hand on Shizun again. He’s never going to lay eyes on him again. Luo Binghe will rip his filthy tongue from his mouth if he dares to ever so much as speak of Shizun in the limited time that he has left to live.
He’s going to make the Old Palace Master’s death slow and lingering and it still will never be enough.
And yet. It hurts to leave Xiu Ya behind.
“I’ll get it back for you,” Luo Binghe promises. “He won’t keep it. I won’t let him.”
Shizun stands, swaying gently before he catches himself against the side of the couch with a soft touch. Luo Binghe’s outer robe drapes open without Shizun holding it in place, displaying pale skin and the bandages Luo Binghe put into place such a short time ago, now splashed with bits of blood from what the poison made Shizun suffer.
Luo Binghe closes his eyes briefly, clamping down on all emotions. He can't afford distractions. He needs to get Shizun out of here. That's what he's promised.
Shizun takes a few shuffling steps closer to him. Thankfully for Luo Binghe's peace of mind, he manages this while still maintaining his light touch on the couch. If he lost his balance, Luo Binghe would lunge to catch him without any further thought, and it's already taking an intensive effort for Shizun to approach him. Shizun told Luo Binghe not to touch.
Telegraphing his movements, Luo Binghe reaches for Xin Mo once more. He tugs it from his sheath. Shizun takes a slow, deep breath. Hua Xunshun saw Xin Mo plenty of times, though its transportation abilities only the once, when Luo Binghe brought them both back to his quarters. Luo Binghe wonders if it feels to Shizun like it's his first time seeing Xin Mo.
Luo Binghe wonders if Shizun suspects or knows where he came across this sword.
(Luo Binghe wonders what happened to Zheng Yang. If his poor, faithful sword, shattered by Mobei-Jun, was abandoned there in Jue Di Gorge.
He assumes so. It isn't as though Luo Binghe was still around to collect its pieces, and Shizun...
Shizun made his opinion well known back then.
Hua Xunshun's actions, Hua Xunshun’s opinions…don't have anything to do with Shizun. Not really. Luo Binghe has to hold onto that. He broke irreparably when Shizun sent him away, so if he allows himself to hope and has that taken away from him once more—well, then he truly won't be able to come back.)
With a carefully precise use of power, Luo Binghe uses Xin Mo to cut across half of the jianghu, from Huan Hua Palace to Cang Qiong.
Carefully, Shizun makes his way as close to the portal as he can get while still holding himself balanced. Squaring his shoulder, he steps forward. Luo Binghe stands perfectly still as Shizun rests a hand against his elbow. Shizun’s fingers tremble faintly, but he stays standing. He doesn’t pull away from Luo Binghe.
Together, they walk through the portal.