Chapter Text
Teenage Dirtbag: Chapter One
Qing Jing Peak was perfectly serene.
A light breeze tousled the top of the bamboo stalks, the thin leaves brushing together in the thousands to create a whispering chorus to accompany the swaying, dappled sunlight.
It was a beautiful day. By all accounts, it should have been a perfect day of quiet, early-summer warmth, only punctuated by the occasional guqin lesson or carefully monitored swordplay class. Perhaps a stray disciple would have accidentally broken the peace with clumsy footwork or an off note, but Shen Qingqiu would have been able to see past it. He would have been perfectly fine .
“Shidi, thank you for hosting this one on such short notice.”
Except, he had an unexpected and wholly unwelcome guest.
Yue Qingyuan gave him one of his perfectly curated, perfectly fake smiles over the top of Shen Qingqiu’s third-best tea set.
Shen Qingqiu felt the blood in his temples begin to throb, adding an uncomfortable upbeat tempo to the cultivated calm of his peak.
His upper lip curled as he reached for his cup.
“Notice? This one wasn’t aware he was given notice, Zhangmen-Shixiong.”
Yue Qingyuan’s smile dropped a few degrees, and he nodded agreeably, “It was this Sect Leader’s mistake, Shidi. It seems I have to trouble you further today.”
If Shen Qingqiu didn’t know Yue Qingyuan better than the man knew himself, he may have missed the slight shake to the Sect Leader’s hand as he placed the teacup back on the table. He may have mistaken the steadying intake of breath for a sigh, or mistaken the way his gaze hardened as he prepared himself to do something he obviously didn't want to do.
Shen Qingqiu hated how often Yue Qingyuan forced himself to do things he obviously didn’t want to do.
“This Sect Leader needs to tell Shidi about”, he paused, barely long enough for two beats of the blood in Shen Qingqiu’s temples, “Something he has been hiding for a long time.”
The thrumming in his head was spreading down like blood through silk to Shen Qingqiu’s chest. It stayed there, struggling like a bird caught in a net, dragging with it his attention, grounding, and the vast majority of his rapidly dwindling patience.
Here? With no warning, on a nondescript day with Shen Qingqiu’s disciples milling around somewhere five hundred meters behind them?
Yue Qingyuan thought this was the place to finally explain himself?
Yue Qingyuan, ever the attentive, kind, gentle and dense Sect Leader either fails to notice Shen Qingqiu’s discomfort or chooses to charge straight towards it. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t know what option is worse.
“This Sect Leader has been speaking with Mu-Shidi about this for a long time. I did not want to burden you with-” His words seemed to dry up, in stark contrast to Shen Qingqiu’s palms.
Once again forgoing his discomfort and every opportunity to have this conversation elsewhere over something preferably stronger than tea, Yue Qingyuan fixes his gaze somewhere around Shen Qingqiu’s chin.
“I did not want to burden you with my feelings, but Mu-Shidi has all but confirmed that if I do not explain myself, my heart demons will ensure I’m unable to ascend with you”.
Shen Qingqiu was gripping his fan so hard it was threatening to splinter, the hard edges of the wood cutting into his palm.
“So Zhangmen-Shixiong decided this was the perfect setting, to sit here and tell me that the reason he’s finally explaining the years he was absent was at the request of Mu Qingfang?”
Yue Qingyuan’s mouth fell open slightly, and the brief flash of pleasure at seeing an expression that was so clearly Qi-Ge was quickly extinguished by a cold wave of humiliation.
“Xiao Jiu, this heart demon was brought on by other feelings-”
“Get out”, Shen Qingqiu hissed.
He didn’t get up fast enough to hide the humiliated flush to his cheeks. To his disgust, he even stumbled in his haste to put distance between himself and Yue Qingyuan, and he was forced to steady himself with a hand on the low table. Something roiled in his chest.
“Xiao Jiu-”
Narrowly managing to avoid the hand reaching for his sleeve, Shen Qingqiu is unfortunately in the perfect position to watch the genuine hurt on Yue Qingyuan’s face morph into tired, resigned guilt.
Shen Qingqiu hates that guilt. Every time he spends more than a shichen in Yue Qingyuan’s company, it falls over them, hot and stifling. Bringing him back to the cold, the hunger, the hands across his-
Shen Qingqiu recognises the spiky edges of his Qi. He knows exactly what this continued, horrible throbbing in his temples means and knows he should turn around and demand Yue Qingyuan take him to Qian Cao. He is past the point he can manage with the herbal teas and incense Mu Qingfang delivers weekly with the same repulsive look of concern.
Would Yue Qingyuan tell him why he left if Mu Qingfang asked him to? If it was a threat to his cultivation? To Cang Qiong Mountain sect?
Around him, the bamboo stalks sway and bend and curve. The sound of the leaves whisper and patter around him like grains of dry rice, bouncing off the ground and the bamboo in a directionless cacophony.
He is Qi deviating. Shen Qingqiu knows he is Qi deviating, but there is a slim chance that if he gets back to the Bamboo House and lights the incense, the medicinal herbs could stave off the worst of the damage. He visualizes the box, where it is in his bedroom, as the corners of his vision start to close in.
He won’t go to Mu Qingfang. Yue Qingyuan holding back the Qing Generation? Laughable. Everyone knows whose cultivation is holding back their generation, and it certainly isn’t the all-powerful, benevolent Cang Qiong Sect Leader.
Shen Qingqiu can barely see blurred shapes when his hands finally brush up against the door of the Bamboo House. He manages to push it open and stumble inside.
His knees hit the floor as he reached the doorway to his bedroom.
₊˚ʚ 🌱 ₊˚✧ ﾟ.₊˚ʚ 🌱 ₊˚✧ ﾟ.
Shen Qingqiu isn’t surprised to wake up, per say.
He is, however, filled with self-disgust as he recognises the hardwood floor beneath his cheek as his own.
His robes shift off his shoulder as he pushes himself to his hands and knees, somehow coming loose and heavy around him in his sleep.
The nausea and headache that accompanies a particularly brutal Qi deviation threaten to upend his already empty stomach. There was a loud tapping sound coming from somewhere in the bamboo house, echoing unpleasantly around the space and Shen Qingqiu’s head.
With a pause and some pointed effort to swallow down the nausea, Shen Qingqiu managed to stagger to his feet. Dragging the loose robes a little tighter to his chest, he faltered.
For some inexplicable reason, his shelves have moved.
Somehow, the row of books that were usually at a comfortable shoulder height had traveled nearly two feet up the wall.
Turning, Shen Qingqiu took in a space that seemed far larger than it had been the day before. Brows pulled together in confusion, he tried to take a step closer to his rather oversized dresser, and promptly stumbled over the swathes of fabric that wrapped around him like some odd parody of his clothing.
A loud knocking sounded again, and Shen Qingqiu had enough time to realize exactly what was going to happen before the door opened.
Ming Fan stared down at Shen Qingqiu from an angle that made his neck hurt.
Shen Qingqiu clutched the loose hem of his robes closed at his collarbones, and squeaked, “Did your mother not teach you to wait before entering personal quarters!”
Oh god. His voice.
Ming Fan gaped, only just recovering strength in his arms fast enough to prevent the tray of food in his hand from tumbling to the floor.
Shen Qingqiu’s breaths were coming too hard and fast.
His bamboo house hadn’t changed. His robes hadn't changed either. Ming Fan certainly hadn’t grown an extra two heads taller overnight.
Something absolutely awful had happened.
It took the much smaller child in Shizun’s clothing dashing towards the bronze mirror to snap Ming Fan out from his daze.
“Hey! This is Shizun’s house! You- you dare to come here and wear our Peak Lord’s robes! Hey! Look at me!”
Shen Qingqiu didn’t look at Ming Fan.
He couldn’t drag his gaze away from the horribly familiar pair of wide eyes staring back at him from the bottom of his bronze mirror. He’d forgotten how uncomfortably large his eyes looked in a face this small, cheeks too thin. His hair was slipping out of the adult-sized hair piece, now completely failing in its task on a much smaller head, and pooling around his shoulders.
Ming Fan slammed the tray down on the low table and marched over, his look of fury blanching as he got a good look at the malnourished child in the mirror.
“You- Shizun-”
Shen Qingqiu’s eyes widened further.
“-Shizun has a child?”
Not sure if he should whack his hopeless disciple over the head for his pathetic deductive skills, or silently thank the heavens for this brief slip of benevolence, Shen Qingqiu’s eyes narrowed in irritation.
He could practically see the thoughts whirring behind Ming Fan’s eyes. His Head Disciple’s gaze flits between the door to the bedroom, the robes, and the darkening face of a child who looked so like his Shizun it’s uncanny.
“Shimei-”
“I’m a man.”
Shen Qingqiu can’t help the words, snapping his mouth shut and pressing his lips together angrily as if it would help him take the furious statement back.
To his credit, Ming Fan barely blinked.
“Shidi, where is your father?”
“He’s gone. Official sect business.” Shen Qingqiu can’t quite believe how easily Ming Fan is accepting this. Surely, finding a twelve year old version of your Shizun, complete with the same (albeit half undone) hair crown and robes would be enough for him to consider the alternative?
He wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. The only thing more humiliating than Qi deviating to such a degree his physical state returns to that of his teenage self, was other people knowing .
Ming Fan sends a final, slightly lost look around the bamboo house before finally returning his gaze to Shen Qingqiu. Shen Qingqiu sets his most toe-curling frosty glare on his Head Disciple.
“I need robes.”
Meeting the eyes of this miniature version of his Shizun, Ming Fan is struck by the uncomfortable realization that this terribly familiar look, on a smaller face, is actually rather adorable.
“I don’t know if we have robes in Shidi’s, uh, size?”
Shen Qingqiu’s hand twitched towards his second-favorite hand fan, which would be in an ideal hitting position if he was more confident he could actually reach Ming Fan’s head.
Through gritted teeth, he replied, “Well, where do you keep said robes?”
“The disciples dorms.”
“Then go and get your Shiz- Shidi the most appropriate sized robes you can.”
Something strangely close to annoyance flashed across Ming Fan’s face, and the older boy seemed to hesitate for a moment before giving the very smallest of bows. He glanced once more at the boy before turning on his heel and nearly running from the bamboo house.
Shen Qingqiu stood there in the heavy silence, avoiding his reflection.
He had Qi deviated. He had Qi deviated to such a degree that he was currently trapped in a body that he couldn’t look at without being plunged straight back into the worst period of his life.
The food on the table steamed innocently, and Shen Qingqiu’s stomach turned. He knew from experience that eating would help, but he was also half tempted to leave this pathetic body to go hungry.
The bamboo outside his window brushed together like pages turning in a book.
Shen Qingqiu forced his clenched fists to loosen, ignoring the discomfort of the bones in his fingers pressing against each other through his thin skin, and closed his eyes to concentrate. He tried to feel for his Qi, to locate the strained flow that grates across his raw spiritual veins, and could only find the thinnest tendril in his lower dantian. Gently coaxing it, he pulled it up and around his spiritual veins in the cautious way he’d become used to.
It didn’t hurt.
Shen Qingqiu’s eyes flew open.
It didn’t hurt.
In this body, he could still cultivate. In fact, he was at the perfect age to start cultivating. He’d achieve immortality before even hitting twenty.
A bitter laugh dragged itself from his throat, high and crackling.
His spiritual veins were perfectly fine. He could grow and strengthen them with proper cultivation and completely avoid the tangled, raw snare they’d become.
Was this how it had felt for Qi-Ge? Had cultivating been this smooth and painless at twelve?
A pair of hissed voices from outside cut through the peace, and Shen Qingqiu’s eyes slid open.
“Ming-Shixiong! You can’t say that!”
“It’s true! Shimei, I swear. There’s a child in that house, Shizun’s child! Shizun’s bastard child!”
Shen Qingqiu’s eyebrows twitched.
“When would Shizun have the time to have a child, Shixiong!”
“You don’t understand, the boy is at least ten. It must have happened before we joined the sect! Shizun’s been keeping him secret”
There was a pregnant pause, where Shen Qingqiu decided to put his disciples through some additional espionage training. This was the strategy peak! Really. They should at least have confirmed that the windows weren’t open before having this kind of conversation in earshot.
“You don’t think… you don’t think Shizun’s been keeping him in the Red Pavilion? Until he was old enough to start cultivating?”
Ning Yingying. Truly, the effort these two were putting into creating a fictional (and functional) backstory for Shen Qingqiu’s non-existent child would be far better applied to her studies. Ming Fan would also need further studies on the importance of keeping sensitive information to himself.
“It would explain everything!”
Well, that was enough of that.
Shen Qingqiu picked a spot in front of the food on the table where he could project the most authority. He picked up the still-steaming teacup, and set it down forcefully on the hardwood.
Both voices fell silent.
Soon after, there was a tentative knock on the door.
“You may enter.”
That may have been a little more assumptive than any disciple would get away with, but Shen Qingqiu’s habits were built over decades.
Ming Fan entered, cheeks slightly pink, followed by an entirely shameless Ning Yingying. As soon as she spotted him, her mouth fell open into a small ‘o’, and her eyes brightened.
“You’re so cute!” She said breathlessly.
Shen Qingqiu stiffened, completely at a loss at how to respond. Luckily, Ning Yingying seemed to have no such problem.
“My goodness, Shidi, you’re the spitting image of your father!”
Yes, that is because he is said father.
Pulling his face into his frostiest and most intimidating frown, Shen Qingqiu managed to grit out, “Please don’t bring the entire peak here, Ming Fan.”
Perplexingly, Ning Yingying just cooed.
Ming Fan’s face reddened further, “I am the head disciple! I know your father is… is Shizun but you need to address me respectfully!”
“Ming-Shixiong, Shizun’s son isn’t from around here. We should be kind!”
Ming Fan turned to answer, but paused, eyes narrowing on Shen Qingqiu, “How do you know my name?”
Shen Qingqiu pulled the fan off the table, and spread it elegantly across his downturned mouth, “Shixiong and Shijie have voices that carry.”
He sent a meaningful glance towards the open window, before turning it to Ming Fan and Ning Yingying with finality.
Ming Fan gaped at him.
Snapping the fan shut, Shen Qingqiu gathered his robes and rose with as much dignity as he could manage in the swathes of fabric, “If I am to refer to you with respect, please return the courtesy. You may refer to this one as Shen-Shidi.”
Ning Yingying bit her lip in what Shen Qingqiu satisfactorily felt was repentance, until she opened her mouth.
“Shen-Shidi, you are just like a tiny Shizun!” Her voice rose excitedly with every word, “It’s unbearably cute!”
Shen Qingqiu’s foot caught in his robes, and it took every ounce of his concentration and balance to remain standing, “This one is not cute .”
Ning Yingying’s face was steadily turning pink as she bit her lower lip, her nods in stark contrast to the concerningly bright glint in her eyes.
A few discrete kicks sorted out the tangle of fabric at Shen Qingqiu’s feet.
“Did Ming- Shixiong bring this one robes or did he completely fail in his set task?”
Ning Yingying stepped forwards, lifting her arms to proudly display a large bundle of clothes, “We did, Shidi!”
She paused, seemingly at a loss at where to place them with the untouched breakfast tray on the low table, “I’m sure Shizun won’t mind Shidi changing in his room”.
Without another word, Ning Yingying walked into Shen Qingqiu’s bedroom with a noticeable skip in her step.
Ming Fan watched him with narrowed eyes as he hitched the robes up, and made an undignified march to follow with fabric spilling over his arms.
If anyone ever found out about this, Shen Qingqiu would have no choice but assassination.
When he waddled into the bedroom, he was greeted with the sight of Ning Yingying spreading a selection of their smallest disciple robes across his bed.
“Shidi will not have worn robes like this before, he’ll need help getting dressed for the first time.” She said cheerfully, and Shen Qingqiu’s stomach dropped.
“That will not be necessary.” He said, his voice coming out more strangled than he’d like.
“Nonsense! It’s fine, I used to help my siblings when they were small”. Ning Yingying gave him a slightly wobbly smile, “I miss it. Shizun hasn’t taken any new disciples since I joined the sect.”
If anyone ever found out about this, Shen Qingqiu would assassinate himself.
Resolve crumbling, Shen Qingqiu fixed his gaze on the floor and allowed Ning Yingying to carefully pull the oversized robes from his shoulders.
He felt smaller without them, somehow.
Ning Yingying had undressed him to his under robes before she faltered, her hands dropping slightly as she stared at his chest. Shen Qingqiu’s cheeks flooded with color, and he jerkily raised a hand to cover his front before he could stop himself.
“Oh.” Ning Yingying’s eyes darted back up to his face, “Shidi really is like Shizun, isn’t he? Hold on, I need to go and get another piece of clothing. Wait here one moment!”
Before Ning Yingying could leave the room, Shen Qingqiu’s hand shot out to grab her sleeve.
“It’s fine.” He muttered, unable to meet her eyes, “There’s a white silk band in the wardrobe. I’ll use that.”
Ning Yingying blinked down at him, before a small smile pulled at her cheeks, “There’s no need. We’ve been given proper clothing just for this occasion already. When Shidi has been fully inaugurated, he can go to Mu-Shixiong for the medicine to stop any more changes.”
Shen Qingqiu’s hand slackened slightly in shock, and that was all Ning Yingying needed to scurry out of the room, firmly closing the door behind her.
He heard a muffled, “Don’t go in, Shixiong. I’ll be right back!”
With a slight shiver, Shen Qingqiu eyed the door distrustful for a few moments, but when Ming Fan didn’t burst through in outrage, his shoulders dropped a little.
Clothes for this? For disciples? Shen Qingqiu certainly hadn’t put any requests in. Perhaps he should have, but it seemed to have been done already.
True to her word, Shen Qingqiu had barely enough time to wrinkle his nose at the subpar thread count on the disciple robes before Ning Yingying burst back through the door with a small, thick piece of clothing in her hands. Nearly jumping out of his skin, Shen Qingqiu had opened his mouth to berate her but found himself with his arms fully occupied by the newest addition to his disciple uniform.
It was small, and looked like it would be tight even on him. It was like a tunic with no arms, that seemed to be missing the necessary fabric to cover his stomach.
Ning Yingying watched his confusion, something soft in her smile.
“Do you want me to show you how to put it on? The disciples had a demonstration when they were added to the uniform.”
“No!” Shen Qingqiu’s voice came out faster and sharper than he intended, “I can do it.”
To her credit, Ning Yingying turned around without being prompted. Her hands were clasped behind her back, and she swayed up and down on her tiptoes impatiently.
The first time around, Shen Qingqiu had no such luxury as this. He’d simply used what he could find to bind his chest until it was flat and tight, and, when he was young, nobody cared if a slave had loose robes and hunched forwards.
He’d always been too thin, a result of malnutrition and periods of starvation, but to his eternal disgust, it didn’t affect his chest. No matter what he’d done, from this age until he’d entered the sect and been able to consult with the previous Qian Cao Peak Lord, he’d been stuck with them.
For some reason, this time around he wouldn’t have such concerns.
He was right, it was tight. Not uncomfortable in the way bands of cloth had been, but in a way that made him oddly secure. Something in his stomach unraveled slightly.
“Are you ready?”
Shen Qingqiu pulled the final ties of the smaller inner robes closed, before finally replying.
“Yes.”
Ning Yingying gave him a quick up and down, before nodding, pleased.
“So, you need to tie this next one like this…”
The process of getting ready was oddly comforting. Familiar processes on robes he hadn’t worn in decades, layers of fabric on top of the other until he felt less exposed.
The whole time, Ning Yingying gently muttered praises and comments on how he could tuck the layers in ways that would drape less obviously across his front. There was a thickness in his throat the whole while.
Before he knew it, Shen Qingqiu was standing in front of his bedroom mirror, looking at his younger self in sect robes smaller than he’d had the opportunity to wear his first time around.
Was this what he would have looked like, if he’d been able to go with Qi-Ge before?
“You don’t like it?”
Ning Yingying’s voice snapped him back into his body, eyes blinking at her reflection as she peered down at him in concern.
Horrified, Shen Qingqiu blinked back the dampness in his eyes and wrenched his shoulder from her grasp.
“They’re satisfactory. Thanking Shijie.”
Ning Yingying blinked down at him for a moment before a small, wicked smile curled up her cheeks.
Shen Qingqiu took an uncertain step back, before berating himself.
He was a Peak Lord!
An immortal cultivator with decades of experience!
Respected throughout the lands!
He was not afraid of whatever scheme his youngest disciple had concocted.
“Shidi is nearly ready, but it would be improper for him to be seen around the sect with his hair loose.”
He took it back. Shen Qingqiu was absolutely not allowing his youngest disciple to touch his hair. Not with that look on her face.
“This one is perfectly capable of doing his own hair,” He hissed.
Ning Yingying took a step forward, “But Shidi, it’s been so long since this Shijie was able to do someone’s hair. Not since my little sister was young.”
Shen Qingqiu took a step back, involuntarily.
Ning Yingying took another step forward.
“No.”
Ning Yingying’s eyes widened pleadingly, her lower lip trembling in the way Shen Qingqiu had always been weak to.
She looked down, her hands twisting together in front of her.
Shen Qingqiu regretted ever allowing her to stay in the room.
“ Fine. ” He snapped, turning with a flourish that worked far better in larger robes and sat himself on the stool before his mirror.
His frown deepened as he realized his feet weren’t quite touching the ground.
For the next thirty minutes, Ning Yingying cooed and giggled as she pulled his hair up into a hairstyle so elaborate it rivaled Shen Qingqiu’s best efforts during previous alliance conferences.
With a final, very unnecessary ribbon, Ning Yingying beamed down at him, and declared, “There! Shen-Shidi looks perfect now!”
Shen-Shidi very much didn’t look perfect.
Shen-Shidi looked like one of those small dogs the wives of rich merchants were so fond of dragging around behind them on coloured ribbons.
“Xiao… Jiu?”
Shen Qingqiu stiffened, the soft calm that had settled into him sometime during the hairstyling evaporating in an instant.
Horrified, his eyes traveled up the bronze mirror, higher than Ning Yingying’s rapid blinking, and up to Yue Qingyuan’s pale face.
The moment dragged on for several long moments, before the awful reality of the situation dawned on Shen Qingqiu.
With a start, Shen Qingqiu jumped down from the stool and drew himself up to his current full height.
“Ning- Shijie,” he said pointedly, “Please leave this one and Sect Leader for a moment.”
Yue Qingyuan didn’t move his eyes off Shen Qingqiu for a second.
Peering between them, Shen Qingqiu watched her reach some awful and clearly wrong conclusion.
No matter. He had bigger fires to fight.
“Ning-Shijie.” This time, Shen Qingqiu made sure to inject further force into his tone and, as usual, it worked.
Ning Yingying gave a small bow, seemingly puzzled at herself as to why she’d just bowed to her Shidi, and gave a surer bow to Yue Qingyuan. With a final glance, she swept past the frozen sect leader and closed the door behind her.
The sound seemed to knock some sense back into Yue Qingyuan, who took a step forward and raised a hand seemingly unconsciously towards Shen Qingqiu.
There was something oddly vulnerable in Yue Qingyuan’s eyes.
“Xiao-”
“It’s Qingqiu , Zhangmen-Shixiong.”
Yue Qingyuan’s face was doing something markedly odd. His mouth was half open, and his eyes seemed unable to decide which place on Shen Qingqiu to bore into first.
“Shidi,” Yue Qingyuan sounded strangled, “What is the meaning of this?”
With as much dignity as someone five feet tall and adorned with ribbons could manage, Shen Qingqiu drew a series of silencing sigils in the air with his pointer finger. Thankfully, despite his currently meager cultivation, his Qi ran smoothly enough to create something workable.
Closing the window would solve the last of the problems, especially with the pests that hadn’t fully concealed their presence beneath it.
Satisfied, Shen Qingqiu turned back to his unwelcome guest, “Zhangmen-Shixiong, I don’t recall inviting you to my peak in the early hours of the morning.”
At some point, when Shen Qingqiu’s concentration was occupied, Yue Qingyuan had gracelessly grabbed onto one of the bamboo houses’ bookshelves. With a tinge of dissatisfaction, Shen Qingqiu made a mental note to check the wall supports for it later.
Yue Qingyuan may or may not be experiencing a minor Qi deviation.
“Was it some sort of assassination attempt? Has Shidi been poisoned by some herb or malicious spell?”
Oh how he wished he’d been the victim of an assassination attempt. Was Yue Qingyuan mocking him?
“This one Qi deviated last night,” He grit out.
Yue Qingyuan’s eyes sharpened, and he seemed to regain the strength in his limbs. “Mu Qingfang. I shall call him immediately.”
“If Zhangmen-Shixiong is so desperate to see Mu-Shidi he could have spared me this visit and gone straight to Qian Cao Peak.”
If Shen Qingqiu’s voice came out tinged with bitterness, neither of them acknowledged it.
“At least let me check your meridians, Shidi, please .”
Yue Qingyuan looked seconds from either Qi deviating on the spot or falling to his knees and begging. Neither were events Shen Qingqiu wanted to experience.
With a furious tch, Shen Qingqiu flicked his wrist to free it from his sleeves and thrust the bare arm towards the Sect Leader.
Carefully, like he was handling spun glass, Yue Qingyuan encircled half of Shen Qingqiu’s wrist with his abnormally large palm. His hand was dry, if slightly calloused, and Shen Qingqiu willed down the blood that was threatening to pool in his cheeks. Every time Yue Qingyuan did this, it was the same. His spiritual veins sang .
The warm, gently probing Qi that snaked through his meridians did nothing to help.
“Shidi, your spiritual veins…”
Shen Qingqiu wrenched his wrist free from Yue Qingyuan’s grip, more than willing to chalk it down to his own strength and not the quickly loosened grasp.
“Undamaged. Yes. This point in my life was before the unsuitable cultivation.”
Yue Qingyuan’s face was doing that strange thing again. The odd scrunching, caught somewhere between joy and anguish.
“Shidi isn’t in any pain?”
Even the sect leader’s voice wasn’t free from the uncomfortable mush of emotions.
Scoffing, Shen Qingqiu shook his sleeves until they covered his thin wrists. They’d always been pathetically thin, but he couldn’t quite get the image of Yue Qingyuan’s hand wrapping around half his forearm out of his mind.
“Of course not.” He smiled bitterly. “In fact, Qi manipulation has never been this painless.”
Yue Qingyuan’s hands shook slightly where they lay, peeking out from beneath his robes.
Fighting back the urge to hide, Shen Qingqiu took advantage of the low table hiding his feet to surreptitiously rise up to his tiptoes.
“Now, if the Sect Leader has satisfied his curiosity, this one has a Peak to run.”
“You’re going to run the sect…like that?”
Yue Qingyuan must really be struggling with the image of Shen Qingqiu so weak and pathetic to have slipped out of formality like that.
Gritting his teeth against the humiliation, and wrestling into submission the cruel voice that taunted you never wanted him to see you like this , Shen Qingqiu grabbed his fan and swept past the sect leader. He erased the silencing talismans with a wave of his hand and paused before fully leaving the room.
“This one is still a Peak Lord, from the strategic peak. He is fully capable of running a peak from behind the scenes despite his weak form.”
He took great satisfaction in sweeping off and out of the bamboo house to the sound of Yue Qingyuan’s raised, “Shen-Shidi, wait!”
As anticipated, he found Ming Fan and Ning Yingying standing quietly outside his door, both trying to look like they weren’t eavesdropping and failing miserably.
“Shijie, Shixiong, this one believes there are morning lessons for him to attend.”
Ning Yingying’s cheeks were puffed out in the way that meant she desperately wanted to ask a question but was wisely restraining herself.
“And the Sect Leader…?” Ming Fan asked, bravely.
“He is fine. Come.”
Shen Qingqiu missed the heavy look shared by his two disciples, already strolling ahead, one hand behind his back and one holding his overly-large fan.
The peak was interesting from this height. The steps curling up the mountain wall to reach some of the lecture halls too tall, the open, mossy spaces in the bamboo groves feeling huge and swirling with spiritual energy.
He passed a section of younger disciples chopping wood in a clearing, and noticed with dissatisfaction how large the axes actually were in their hands.
With a body this small, he would struggle to chop firewood with those axes.
Shen Qingqiu frowned, and pushed his unfed body up yet another set of stairs.
Both Ning Yingying and Ming Fan were following, thankfully seeming to finally understand the importance of subtlety in conversation. If they were communicating, it was thankfully silent.
A pair of hulking (normal sized) older disciples passed him on the way down from the lecture hall, both freezing and pressing themselves up against the mountain wall to let him pass.
Easing his fan slightly to better cover his face, Shen Qingqiu continued the arduous march up to the music lecture room. Had it always been this cold this high up the mountain?
He wasn’t fast enough to miss the hissed, “Ming-Shixiong, who is that? ”
“Silence! Mind your own business!” Ming Fan snapped back, hurrying to keep up with the tiny Shidi ahead of him.
“It’s Shizun’s son!”
Ning Yingying.
Shen Qingqiu wanted to turn around and whack her right on her stupidly tall head. He didn’t stop, he didn’t even blink. If he sped up slightly, that was between him and the ever increasing distance from his favorite idiotic disciples.
When Shen Qingqiu finally reached the seminar room, he was sweaty and slightly dizzy. He’d forgotten how inconvenient it was to have such a low level of cultivation, was this how all of his younger disciples had felt?
Trying to hide his slight panting in the thin air, Shen Qingqiu didn’t notice Ning Yingying’s approach until she was standing right beside him. She surreptitiously touched her hand to his forearm, and Shen Qingqiu felt a soft trickle of Qi curling through him.
“It gets easier as you grow and your cultivation improves.” She whispered, smiling down at him kindly.
His hmph came out softer than he’d intended, and Ning Yingying’s smile brightened further.
Ming fan stepped up to his other side, arms crossed as he glared up at the music hall, “So we made it in time for the first guqin lessons, but this is the advanced class. The beginners class isn’t until midday, you’d have been better off going via the main hall to get a cultivation manual first.”
With a withering glance, and no small amount of smugness, Shen Qingqiu swept past the both of them and into the ornate building.
There were already a decent number of senior disciples around, either strumming carefully on guqins to ensure they were tuned or talking quietly in groups. A hush swept across the room as Shen Qingqiu strode through the middle of them, and took a seat at a guqin to the left of the teaching dias.
He’d barely had time to sneer at the quality of the instrument in front of him, when his senior Guqin instructor, Lan Wen, entered the class.
The man was a decent cultivator who was unlikely to achieve immortality through traditional means and had turned to musical cultivation to strengthen his base. He didn’t live on the peak, of course, but made the journey from a neighboring town twice a week to teach the advanced classes.
Shen Qingqiu had a decent relationship with the man, not close, but they had mutual respect. It was too much to hope the mediocre cultivator wouldn’t notice a qi-deviated Shen Qingqiu at the front of his class.
Behind his round glasses, Lan Wen’s eyes widened.
Before he could experience another humiliating repeat of Yue Qingyuan in the bamboo house, Shen Qingqiu rose to his feet. He stepped up to the thin man, and bowed respectfully.
“This one greets Master Lan. Shen Qingqiu sends his regards.”
Lan Wen glanced down at the fan in Shen Qingqiu’s hands, and back up to his face before replying, “It’s a pleasure to teach you, Shen… Shidi?”
Thankfully, he didn’t have a habit of hiring buffoons.
His words sent a hushed round of whispers around the class, but that was unfortunately to be expected.
Lan Wen’s eyes were full of questions, but the man thankfully did little else than send Shen Qingqiu a few questioning glances before seating himself in front of his polished guqin.
“That’s quite enough.” Lan Wen’s voice quietened the excited whispering, and he cleared his throat before continuing, “Please turn to your assigned piece. I expect you to have been practicing since we met last week.”
Plucking a few careful notes with one hand, Lan Wen used a tendril of Qi to pick up a sheet of music and drift it over to rest in front of Shen Qingqiu.
Not that Shen Qingqiu would need it. He’d recognised the first few notes of composition floating past him from his disciples instruments. It was a piece he’d written himself when he was a disciple, and filled with burning passion to prove himself at the one thing he had the slightest natural inclination for.
His first note twanged discordantly, and he frowned. That was too out of tune to be a natural occurrence with the regular use these instruments saw. A pair of older disciples behind him snickered nastily, and Shen Qingqiu grit his teeth as he tuned the sabotaged instrument.
The next note was slightly better, well as much as it could be on an instrument that was abused daily by idiots.
Shen Qingqiu closed his eyes, blotted out the whispering, and fell into the music.
He focused on the softly rustling bamboo, and used his notes to paint a familiar storyline amidst his natural accompaniment. He felt every note in his chest, every slide of his finger along the string a conduit for emotion. The bamboo swished, the melody from his guqin dancing entwined with the perfect rhythm of his peak. His tempo increased, notes lilting and hopeful before they reached the crescendo. A flurry of desperate, heavy notes on one hand, a series of light, bright ones of the other, until the light notes trailed into something faint and flickering.
The low notes stilled, leaving nothing but gentle, slow, light, notes to fill the space.
Shen Qingqiu finished with an alteration, something wistful and wanting in the final notes, until they spun out into nothing but the sound of the bamboo.
Silence filled the music room.
“Shen-Shidi has elevated the piece.” Lan Wen said, breaking the stunned silence of the other disciples.
Running his hand across the guqin, Shen Qingqiu noticed Ming Fan and Ning Yingying also standing at the back of the class.
They hadn’t simply left him after he’d been delivered to the correct room?
Lan Wen waked over, and placed a new piece in front of Shen Qingqiu. He hadn’t seen it before, but judging by the complex balance of notes, it was either a piece written by Lan Wen himself or an accomplished colleague.
“I have been meaning to show this piece to Shen-Shidi, but it has been so long since we last spoke this one hasn’t had the chance.”
Well, he needed to make a mental note to spend more time with the peak’s experts it seemed. The piece would undoubtedly be difficult, but it was exactly the sort of thing Shen Qingqiu would enjoy.
He was, however, not so caught up in his mental play that he missed the small titter the words sent through the assembled disciples. Perhaps he should have insisted he stay holed up in the bamboo house after all, the rumors after this minor setback had resolved itself wouldn’t be easily tamed.
The rest of the class passed mostly without incident, despite the stares boring holes in Shen Qingqiu’s back as he played.
Irritatingly, the piece itself was a joy, and Lan Wen looked pleased as he watched Shen Qingqiu bundle up the scroll and place it in the sleeves of his robe.
“Thanking Master Lan for his guidance.”
Shen Qingqiu bowed again before leaving the room, raising one brow at Ming Fan and Ning Yingying as he passed.
“That was beautiful, Xiao-Jiu!” Ning Yingying chirped, bouncing up and down on her tiptoes.
Shen Qingqiu’s blood ran cold.
“Don’t call me that.” His voice sounded alien to his ears, oddly quiet.
“Oh.” Ning Yingying blinked down at him, before seeming to come to some understanding, “Is it something special between you and the Sect Leader?”
Shen Qingqiu’s blood began to pound behind his ears, but before he could spit out a denial, another person cut in from behind them.
“I didn’t think Qing Jing Peak would fall to nepotism, but clearly I was wrong.”
Already furious, Shen Qingqiu turned around to shoot a group of disciples an icy look.
They were a group that often hung around Ming Fan, slightly older than the head disciple but with little promise for cultivation. Shen Qingqiu already had a low opinion of the fools, but to stoop to bullying disciples younger than them? Pathetic.
“Ah, forgive this Shidi.” Shen Qingqiu sounded like he couldn’t care less, “You two must be unfamiliar with the concept of talent.”
As intended, that struck a nerve. One of the boys took a threatening step forwards. If he remembered right, that boy was from a middlingly wealthy merchant family who had an unfortunate surplus of sons. One or two was a blessing, but more than that was an irritating burden. Far easier if they could be shipped off to a cultivation sect, and their parents could crow to others about their ‘cultivator son’.
“I won’t let some brothel bastard talk to me like that.”
Shen Qingqiu’s lip curled. Bastard. What was worse, a bastard or a slave?
Before he had the chance to retort, Ming Fan stepped forward.
“Perhaps you should reconsider your own position before considering that of others, Shidi?” Ming Fan took another step towards the boys.
Perhaps Shen Qingqiu had misremembered? He could have sworn these boys trailed around after Ming Fan like brainless children.
“It would be unfortunate if someone close to Shizun were to learn of your own inauguration to the sect, wouldn’t it?”
The boy took a step back at Ming Fan’s words, eyes widening, “Shixiong…”
Ming Fan turned to the other two boys, “And you two? Are you so lacking in respect that you’d speak to someone of Shizun’s blood like this?”
They paled, stammering, and Ming Fan sent them a perfectly mimicked version of Shen Qingqiu’s own sneer. How his head disciple had grown!
The boys shuffled around for a moment longer, before slinking off with a few pitiful looks over their shoulders.
Well, it seemed phad at least learned something of importance in his time on the sect.
He hadn’t, of course, learned how to handle his victories.
Shooting Ning Yingying a painfully obvious glance, Ming Fan puffed out his chest, “My Shidi and Shimei shouldn’t have to put up with such pointless conversation.”
Ning Yingying bounced on the heels of her feet, “Shixiong! That was impressively done! Shizun would be proud!”
Shen Qingqiu, irritatingly, was reluctantly impressed, but something had stuck out to him in that exchange, “Ming Fan, what is this position you referred to with that boy?”
Glancing aside, Ming Fan dithered a little before replying, “Shidi, I’ll tell you but you can’t tell your father, uh, Shizun I mean.”
Wafting his fan, Shen Qingqiu raised a small eyebrow, and Ming Fan continued, “That Shixiong, his family bribed the organizers of the Disciple Selection. He brought an enchanted shovel, which is why he was able to get in so smoothly.”
Ah, Shen Qingqiu remembered now.
How foolish that Ming Fan hadn’t realized.
“What peak is this, Shixiong?”
Ming Fab blinked at him, “Uh, Qing Jing?”
“And what is the specialty of Qing Jing peak?”
Looking entirely confused, Ming Fan glanced at Ning Yingying, “It’s the scholarly peak, Shidi. Did your father not tell y-”
“The Scholarly peak, which also specializes in strategy.” Shen Qingqiu gave Ming Fan a pointed look, but judging by the stupid, lost expression on his face he’d have to spell it out for him.
“Ming-Shixiong, if Shen Qingqiu couldn’t notice an enchanted shovel he wouldn’t be fit to be the Peak Lord of Qing Jing Peak. That Shixiong’s planning was promising, and the enchantment good enough not to set off any of the event's wards. That alone is enough to qualify for Qing Jing peak.”
Jaw slack, Ming Fan’s brain finally caught up, and he stood a little straighter, “This Ming Fan apologizes for ever doubting his Shizun’s decisions!”
He dropped slightly before aborting his bow halfway through, “Shidi is wise and shrewd like his father!”
Ning Yingying raised a delicate finger to her chin thoughtfully, “Even they weren’t aware of Shizun’s knowledge though. There have been rumors going around that people can cheat their way into Qing Jing in the other sects, wouldn’t Shizun want to silence these to protect Qing Jing’s reputation?”
Turning on his heel, fan raised, Shen Qingqiu spoke as he made his way down the stairs and towards the next class, his ducklings on his heels, “People will always talk. Better for them to have false, easily disproved rumors than something more troublesome.”
It appeared he had been remiss in trusting the education of his disciples to the Masters of Qing Jing peak if even basic strategy was beyond them. He grimaced as he realized he would have to be more involved . How tiresome.
Talking aloud, Shen Qingqiu glared down at a gawking disciple as he made his way to the library, “More bothersome is the fact that they felt it appropriate to harass a younger disciple because of his perceived background. Unacceptable.”
Ning Yingying skipped up so she was in step with him, “Oh? And will Shidi tell Shizun about this?”
Angling his fan to cover his face a little more, Shen Qingqiu tried to speed up again. To his disappointment, his legs weren’t long enough to pull ahead.
“Harassment is one thing. But harassment based on inadequate information gathering? Unacceptable.”
Blinking at him for a moment, Ning Yingying broke into peals of laughter, “Shidi is so like Shizun! You’re sweet inside that hard shell, aren’t you?”
How dare she! And to his face, too? Shen Qingqiu was not sweet! This was entirely pragmatic!
Spluttering, Shen Qingqiu snapped his fan shut and turned to admonish her, when he heard a polite cough from the bottom of the stairs.
A horribly familiar, polite cough.
Dread stroking down his spine, Shen Qingqiu raised himself to his full, unimpressive height, and turned to glare down the steps into Mu Qingfang’s steely smile.
“If disciples Ning Yingying and Ming Fan could be so kind, this one needs to borrow your Shidi .”
There was no mistaking the promise of cold, horribly invasive intervention lacing Mu Qingfang’s tone. To his horror and disgust, both Ning Yingying and Ming Fan took a step back.
Cowards.
Next to Mu Qingfang, unmissable, stood Yue Qingyuan. His horribly passive smile was only betrayed by his clasped hands, his thumb running nervously over the back of the other hand repeatedly.
As much as Shen Qingqiu wanted to sneer down at them before sweeping past, he wanted to be back to normal more. With perfect poise, he turned to his disciples, “Go on to your lessons. This one will join you shortly.”
Visibly relieved, both Ning Yingying and Ming Fan needed no further encouragement to abandon him to the wolves.
Said wolves were both watching him with over-projected kind smiles. Mu Qingfang turned slightly and motioned towards the bamboo house, “This one feels Shen-Shidi may prefer to have this conversation somewhere more private?”
Oh how Mu Qingfang must love being able to call him Shidi. Lip curling, Shen Jiu reluctantly gave up his position on the high step. Mu Qingfang and Yue Qingyuan’s gaze followed him down from eye level, down past chin height, down to chest height, and yet further down.
Back ramrod straight to pretend he was coming up a little higher than mid stomach on both Mu Qingfang and Yue Qingyuan, he stepped past them wordlessly and walked towards his residence.
Settling down in his receiving room, thankfully clean of his untouched breakfast tray, Shen Jiu leveled them both with his best icy stare and waited.
Mu Qingfang was the one to break the silence.
“Zhangmen-Shixiong informed me of as much as he could on our way here, but, Shen-Shidi, I have to say this is one of the most severe physical reactions to a Qi deviation I’ve seen in years.”
Bristling, Shen Qingqiu clenched his teeth and gritted out, “How do I fix this ?”
Mu Qingfang held out a hand expectantly, and Shen Qingqiu slapped his wrist into his hold. Mu Qingfang’s hand didn’t waver in the slightest, which only irritated him more.
Feeling Mu Qingfang’s Qi curling through his small spiritual veins didn’t feel nearly as comfortable as having Yue Qingyuan do it. Rationally, Shen Jiu knew that Mu Qingfang was the epitome of professionalism. Instinctively, Shen Jiu tensed at the invasive feeling.
Mu Qingfang hummed quietly, and relinquished his arm, “It’s as I thought. I haven’t seen this but I’ve read about it before. You Qi deviated severely, and I don’t necessarily have good news.”
“There are three possibilities here, depending on your actions. The first is you partially address this heart demon that has been allowed to fester in you for years by the look of things, and cultivate again from scratch. If successful, you would grow at the rate of a mortal child, which would leave your spiritual veins healthy. You wouldn’t have to worry about the qi deviations you’ve dealt with since your disciplehood. The second option is to ignore this entirely, which would leave you permanently at this age and with this cultivation. The third option-”
Shen Qingqiu’s blood beat in his ears.
Stuck like this.
In this pathetic, weak, wrong body for the rest of his immortal life?
He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t do it. He absolutely, fucking, couldn’t take it. He couldn’t. He would rather die. He would rather-
“-Jiu! Xiao-Jiu! Listen to me! Please!”
“Shen-Shixiong! Listen to me! If you deviate like this you will die! ” Mu Qingfang’s sharp voice cut in, and Shen Qingqiu absently realized the Qi circulating through his veins felt comfortable.
Warm, kind and familiar. He forced his breathing to steady, and reluctantly pulled his wrist away from where Yue Qingyuan was feeding him Qi.
“My options are to stay like this , or partially deal with it and suffer through growing up again?” Shen Qingqiu hissed. His eyes stung.
“There is a third option.” Mu Qingfang said gravely, “If Shen-Shixiong deals with this heart demon, which undoubtedly was whatever caused this in the first place, and resolves those feelings, he will return to his previous form, his cultivation as it was.”
Deal with whatever caused this? This was caused because of Yue Qingyuan and his adamant refusal to tell Shen Jiu why he found him so easy to abandon. Just what was it about him that made him so simple to cast aside to Yue Qingyuan, all while Shen Jiu was stuck? Even when he’d clawed and torn his way through that hell to freedom, he’d been unable to go anywhere Yue Qingyuan wasn’t.
Across the table, Mu Qingfang leant forward, dragging Shen Jiu from his self-flagellation.
“Shen-Shixiong, what was it that made this Qi deviation come on so severely?”
Shen Jiu wasn’t going to do this. His eyes weren’t just stinging anymore, they really were threatening tears. What the fuck was wrong with this body? So pathetic he couldn’t even stomach the fact of life that Yue Qingyuan didn’t care enough about him to keep his promises.
“I am not staying like this.” He said icily, “If Mu Qingfang’s medical cultivation is insufficient to cure this one, this one will cure himself.”
With that, he sent both occupants of his bamboo house a glare, “If you would be so kind as to see yourselves out, I have to cultivate .”
Without waiting for a reply, and cutting off Yue Qingyuan’s scrambled, “Xiao Jiu, wai-”
Shen Jiu slammed the door of his bamboo hut behind him, seething, vision blurry, and marched through the deserted bamboo grove around his house.
He only realized where he’d been going when he arrived at the Cold Pool. The water was perfectly flat, a wide, reflective disk bordered by shifting bamboo, freckled with lily pads and pink lotuses. He stopped at the water's edge, staring down at the furious boy in the water. The pathetic child stared back at him with reddened eyes and clenched fists.
Shen Jiu couldn’t live like this.
A dragonfly fitted down from the open sky and touched the water, just over the boy’s right eye. The surface distorted, the boy's image rippling sickeningly and dissolving like ink on wet parchment.
₊˚ʚ 🌱 ₊˚✧ ﾟ.₊˚ʚ 🌱 ₊˚✧ ﾟ.
Ning Yingying knew she shouldn’t be doing this.
She should be in her calligraphy class alongside Ming Fan, she really shouldn’t be standing here outside Shizun’s bamboo cottage eavesdropping. The voices inside didn’t sound at all like her Shizun, or her Shidi for that matter. She could make out two other voices though, that of Mu-Shixiong and Zhangmen-Shixiong coming from within.
Cursing at the thickness of the wooden door, she pressed her ear more firmly against the weathered wood. Her fingers and ear pressed against the rivulets of the grain uncomfortably, and she finally made out some words.
“…It’s my fault, Mu-Shidi”
That was Zhangmen-Shixiong!
“I cannot begin to tell Zhangmen-Shixiong how to resolve the current situation, if he will not tell me what the situation is. ”
There was silence for a long moment, and Ning Yingying began to worry that she’d missed part of the conversation until Yue Qingyuan spoke again.
“I have to explain this to Xiao Jiu first. He…deserves to hear it first.”
Ning Yingying had never heard the Sect Leader sound like this before. He always spoke so surely and confidently, but be it the wood or the illusion of privacy, he sounded unbearably sad.
There was a particularly creaky floorboard just inside the doorway to the bamboo cottage. All the disciples and Shizun knew to avoid it, but thankfully it seemed Yue Qingyuan did not.
With just enough time to fling herself into the underbrush before Zhangmen-Shixiong opened the door, Ning Yingying lay incredibly still.
Luckily, she seemed to go unnoticed. Zhangmen Shixiong was more distraught than she’d ever seen him, completely unaware of her presence as he strode off in the direction of the Cold Pool.
Barely a moment later, Mu Qingfang appeared in the doorway, staring at his retreating back.
With a heavy sigh, Mu Qingfang made his way down the path from the Bamboo House, hands clasped behind his back. He paused right beside where Ning Yingying was lying. She didn’t dare even breathe.
“Your Shizun is lucky to have such dedicated disciples. However, this one must remind you of the concept of patient confidentiality. Considering it will likely do more good than bad for you to hear this, we will keep your espionage practice between ourselves this time .”
Despite his perfectly level and polite tone, Ning Yingying felt a shiver of unease prickle across her shoulders.
Mu Qingfang wasn’t even looking at her, his perfectly level gaze somewhere in the middle distance, but the weight of his presence was immense.
After a long, terrifying moment of intimidating silence, Mu Qingfang walked down the bamboo path and out of sight.
Letting out her breath in a rush, Ning Yingying sat up and stared dazedly down the path after the healer.
What an incredible presence! How intimidating! Worthy of the title of Peak Lord! She had clearly overlooked Mu Qingfang’s presence in the past, although it wasn’t quite as good as Shizun’s, it was still exceptional.
Burning with newfound respect for her martial uncle, Ning Yingying scrambled to her feet and brushed off her robes. She clenched her fists in determination and fixed her gaze on the small path leading away from the cottage and towards the Cold Pool, after Zhangmen-Shixiong.
She had further espionage to practice.