A new month brought with it a new type of monsters, of a kind especially horrifying to the Sleeper population. For them death was cheap, but these bites of these creatures caused their victims to disappear entirely. Nobody knew if they'd been obliterated entirely or simply teleported elsewhere; so far none of the people to disappear had come back or responded to inquiries on the network. Shen Yuan had tried to keep his head down and avoid them, but when a group of normal humans were attacked right in front of him, what could he do? He wasn't one of the monsters, after all.
Sorry, Jin-ge, he had time to think just before everything went black. Didn't mean to ditch you like this...
The next time he opened his eyes, it was because the throbbing in his bitten arm had grown too painful to ignore. He was lying on his side, in the dirt; the sky was obscured by thick and leafy branches from the trees that loomed overhead.
So not only was he injured, but once again he'd been teleported into the fucking woods. That was great, honestly. Just great!
There was always a night hunt on, cultivators prowling the thick forests for the things that go bump in the night and all.
Lan Xichen had needed some time to think, now that his brother had recovered from his injuries and slipped off into the world to search for a man he likely wouldn't find. Life was cruel like that, and Lan Xichen had no desire to make it more-so. He let his brother go.
It didn't make the ache of missing him lessen any, but the cool evening air and the fresh smell after a rain helped shake out the more dismal thoughts settling at the corners of his mind and collecting dust.
His musings were promptly disrupted when he spotted someone sprawled prone across the narrow path. He hesitated a moment, in case it was a trap or a corpse, but only a moment, as he weighed his obligation to the wounded as far more pressing than any danger to himself. The man was breathing after all, so he couldn't be the dead walking.
Kneeling beside the man, he extends a hand to help him sit upright.
"Are you alright...?" he asks voice soft, soothing, but there's a lilt of concern.
Was he alright? Not especially, no! "I've been better," Shen Yuan answers, making an effort to lighten his tone and sound mildly inconvienced instead of agonized. He looked up at his potential savior -- and nearly fell over again. There was no way to mistake this man for a local.
"Cultivator...?" The word slipped out without his realizing, pain and surprise making his self-control slip. He knew all the cultivators in Trench, and this man wasn't one of them. It was possible that he was a new arrival who'd just stayed under the radar 'til now -- or Shen Yuan had transmigrated again. Only one way to find out.
"Forgive me, gongzi, for speaking so casually," he says, allowing himself to wince and clutch his injured arm. "This one has been injured, and my head...please, where are we?"
"There's nothing to forgive," he affirms, checking this stranger over for injuries. Beside damp debris from the forest floor clinging to his fine garb, there doesn't seem to be anything especially wrong with him, but one can never be too sure. Injuries could often present themselves in ways invisible to the naked eye.
A pair of cool fingers press gently to his wrist, just to check.
To address his other question, Lan Xichen chuckles.
"We're in the hills south of Caiyi Town. You must have hit your head. What do you remember last?"
He touches around Shen Yuan's head, checking for bumps or sore spots. Head injuries could be particularly insidious if not seen to quickly.
True to his word, "Yuan-xiansheng" had started volunteering for chores within a day of being granted quarters in the Cloud Recesses. His status was still a little too ambiguous for comfort, somewhere between "convalescing invalid" and "visiting cultivator," but his unwillingness to sit around idly seemed to be appreciated and nobody had tried to exorcise him or outright accused him of lying yet, so he'd take it. In fact he would have thought he was managing quite well...if it weren't for the scenery.
Like another sect he'd once known, the Gusu Lan had built their home on a mountain, surrounded by bamboo and pine trees. The air was always slightly damp and filled with the sound of trickling water, and an aura of tranquility weighed heavily on the sect like a comforting blanket. It was beautiful. It was painful. It felt like a home Shen Yuan had already resigned himself to never seeing again, a home he had in fact been actively planning to flee just before he'd woke in Trench, but that didn't make it any less painful.
He tried not to linger too much when his schedule took him outside, not wanting to face those feelings. But they wouldn't leave him alone or ease themselves without his input, until one day he found himself seated in one of the open pavilions on the edge of the sect, looking at the bamboo with an aching heart and damp cheeks.
Once, not so many years ago, the Cloud Recesses had burned, and Lan Xichen had mourned.
But from the ashes, life sprang anew and carried on. As things had settled, new structures once more began to feel at home.
Sometimes, Lan Xichen took to wandering, remembering how things once were. There would come a day when no one did, and so he kept the memory alive and safe.
His musings are interrupted when he hears someone draw a shuddering breath. Curious, he follows the sound, only to find Yuan seated under the roof of a pavilion, face streaked with tears.
Lan Xichen approaches, already procuring a silk kerchief from the fold of his robes and offers it to him.
"Is it familiar here...?" he asks softly. Perhaps Yuan was from somewhere like the Cloud Recesses, or perhaps he'd even been here before. Moreover, whatever it was had pained him to the point of tears, and Lan Xichen was reluctant to leave him alone with his misery.
"Huh...?" Shen Yuan looks up with oddly blurring vision, and startles badly. "Sect Leader! I'm so sorry, I didn't hear you approach..." He struggles up onto his feet and gets about one-quarter into a bow before Lan Xichen stops him, holding out a hankerchief. Shen Yuan stares at it for a moment, mystified, before he manages to connect the offer with his damp face and his trouble seeing. "Oh, thank you," he says, hastily accepting it and dabbing at his cheeks. "How embarrassing, I hoped no one would see me like this..."
To Lan Xichen's question he can only shrug. "I suppose it must have!" He laughs helplessly. "I don't...I really can't think of any other reason why I'd act like this, it surely isn't the trees' fault. They're beautiful. Everything's so beautiful here, peaceful and tr-tranquil --" To his shame his voice cracks, and he hastily hides his face in one of his sleeves with a mortified blush.
Lan Qiren had agreed reluctantly to the new cultivator living within their ranks. Lan Xichen could argue spectacularly when so deeply moved by another's plight, and really, what was one more secret refugee of the decimated Wen sect...?
In for a penny, in for a pound, after all.
And if the young man wished to see if there was some way of restoring a golden core after it had been destroyed, would that not be beneficial to all? So many had suffered at the hands of Wen Zhuliu; what harm was there in giving Yuan a chance?
This is how Shen Yuan would find himself being led by the gentle-hearted Sect Leader to the newly constructed library pavilion, escorted between shelves and Lan Xichen detailed their rather considerable collection of materials. Shen Yuan was, of course, welcomed to help himself, so long as he handled the books and scrolls with care. Many were quite old and quite delicate, made more the latter by some nebulous fire Lan Xichen mentioned but did not seem too keen on elaborating on.
It's a toddler, barely four years old, that scuttles through the unlocked doors, chewing on a hangnail and making a beeline to Shen Yuan's leg, onto which the boy immediately latches himself.
"Hi," he greets, beaming up at Shen Yuan with bright and cheerful eyes. "New gege."
"A-Yuan," Lan Xichen warns gently, kneeling down to try to coax the child off. He had a habit of drooling on things, and some part of him had to wonder if he and his brother had ever been so perpetually varying states of muddy and/or sticky. "What have I said about grabbing onto strangers...?"
Shen Yuan's lip part in a smile that is, at least for the moment, totally unguarded in its surprised glee. "Aw, it's fine," he says, kneeling down next to Lan Xichen to smile some more at the baby. What a sweet little bun! "Like the little man said, we're brothers now, aren't we?"
"My name is Yuan too," he informs the baby. "But you can call me Yuan-ge so people don't get confused, okay?"
It didn't come up much in the kind of xianxia novels Shen Yuan had liked to read, over a lifetime ago, but once he transmigrated into a xianxia novels himself it rapidly became clear: when everyone had hair down to their asses, hair-washing became an all-day affair.
Most sects and households turned it into a group activity: the elders and shizuns would receive assistance from their personal disciples, who in turn would receive assistance from the other disciples, who would then assist each other and any children in the sect. Shen Qingqiu had shifted for himself until the day he'd brought Luo Binghe into the Bamboo House; after that, still worried about Binghe being bullied by the other disciples, the two of them had assisted each other. The shocked look on Luo Binghe's face when his master took the comb out of his hand and bid him turn around had been adorable, especially when it quickly melted into happy smiles and shivering. Binghe had had the healthiest, most beautiful hair in the sect after that, truly worthy of the protagonist.
Of course it wasn't just the washing that took up so much time. The hair had to be dried too, and combed with scented oils to keep the strands supple and strong. No cultivator wanted to be seen with split ends! The oils chosen would usually also have a fortifying effect on the cultivator's qi, too, so it was a useful habit to keep up on multiple levels.
Of course the Lans washed and conditioned their hair too, and of course they turned it into a whole thing, with posted schedules and water rations and duty rosters. With his ambiguous status within the sect, Shen Yuan had expected to see his name near the bottom of the list, washing his hair with the servants and babies maybe, so it took him some time to actually find his own name.
Finally one of the apprentices had gently nudged him and pointed to the top of the list: Lan Qiren, Zewu-jun, Hanguang-jun, Lan Yuan. Attending: Shen Yuan.
The real Shen Yuan's brain broke a little. He was being asked to help the sect leader and his family.
In Lan Xichen's defense, it was not he that wrote the schedule.
"Between helping me and your brother," his uncle had gruffed, "you can use an extra pair of hands with your nephew. Besides, I'd like to get a measure of this other remnant of the Wen clan."
He was quite mortified to see the list posted before he had an opportunity to ask Shen Yuan, or finalize it.
"Uncle..." he groans under his breath, massaging the sides of his head where he can feel the beginnings of a headache.
Still, he arrives on time, helping his brother get situated. Lan Wangji's bare back was marked with barely healed, criss-crossing scars that still caused him obvious pain, and it was clear Lan Xichen would have his hands full attending to his brother.
Lan Qiren was relaxing, as was the wont of the elderly. A fresh batch of apprentices from some smaller cultivation families had their first lessons today, and things had gone about as expected. Lan Yuan was already fishing around in the water. When Shen Yuan arrives, Lan Xichen flashes him an apologetic smile.
"Good afternoon," he greets, though Lan Yuan is already on his feet, running to cling to Shen Yuan's leg.
"Big Yuan-ge," the boy greets, bright and cheerful as ever.
Because I am never one to reign in my world-building when it starts to spiral out of control, this is a top level for organizing lore to related to the aforementioned setting (it was originally just supposed to be a backdrop for an arranged marriage prompt! Oh how the turn tables) and threading with my rp friends. If we've rped before, feel free to just jump in. Otherwise please message me first, thank you. <3
Setting inspo: The Husky and His White Cat Shizun, Lovecraft by way of the Old Gods of World of Warcraft, and this fic specifically by x_los, as pertains to Shen Yuan and Shen Jiu. Cliffnotes: they are two separate, unrelated people in this setting, and Shen Yuan is the peak lord known as Shen Qingqiu while Shen Jiu holds the courtesy name Fuzhao and is the famously beloved/infamous bitchy spouse of Sect Leader Yue Qingyuan.
Shen Qingqiu has been promised in marriage to one of the ghost kings, but I am nothing if not a multi-shipping whore and happy to bring in Shen Luguang or a transmigrating Shen Yuan if people want him, =uwu=
Cang Qiong Mountain Sect had maintained the barriers between the worlds of the living and the restless dead for generations, but now a new enemy had descended from the darkness between the stars. Terrible, faceless aberrations, like monsters from the depths of the sea yet capable of walking like men, who fed on spiritual energy in all its forms. For living humans being caught in a Void Walker's claws meant a life without cultivation, without emotion, spiritually blind, deaf, and dumb. For the restless dead it meant total annihiliation, a complete cessation of existence more painful and terrible than even the wheel of reincarnation which they had fought so hard to avoid.
It quickly became clear to both the peak lords and the council of kings, which ruled the Ghostlands, that to maintain the status quo would spell doom for both their worlds. Thus a treaty was formed -- but the restless dead required insurance. A marriage must take place, to seal the treaty: yang bound in sacred submission to yin, a peak lord taken into the household of a ghost king and held there in trust against his or her martial family's good behavior. A hostage and living embodiment of the treaty in one. Shen Qingqiu had volunteered himself for the role.
It was no great sacrifice, to his mind. He was not a great warrior, nor an invaluable healer or craftsman: he was a scholar, but even then all of his knowledge was written down and preserved in the library of Qing Jing Peak, which preceeded him by generations and would endure long after he was gone. Cang Qiong would not suffer by his absense, and perhaps his knowledge of monsters and ghosts would even give him an advantage in navigating their society, and working to maintain the treaty from the other side. These all seemed perfectly reasonable arguments to him, and he had never been one to value his own comfort before the needs of his peers -- nor could said peers find any reason to force a substitution. A bride was needed, and Shen Qingqiu was willing. What more needed to be said?
(But Shen Fuzhao, whose sharp eyes always saw more than was good for him, insisted on helping Shen Qingqiu dress himself in the matrimonial robes, and giving him an unnecessary hand to boost him into the palaquin. He presses a small clay vial into Shen Qingqiu's hand before departing, and as the bearers lifted the palaquin onto their shoulders Shen Qingqiu carefully unsealed the bottle and sniffed the end of the stopper. A spiritual opiate, he realized; and the note that came with it read, "For if it all becomes too much."
Shen Qingqiu was no great healer, but he knew enough herblore to realize that such a potion would put him into a deep, dreamless sleep from which not even the rage of a ghost king would wake him. To his credit he immediately frowned and resealed the bottle with a touch of his qi, and buried it in the lowest depths of his storage sleeve. He could not think of a manuever more in bad faith, than to take himself out of the marriage before it had even begun.)
It took the bearers no great time to reach the borders of the Ghostlands, for just like death itself it lay around every corner and looked over every shoulder. Shen Qingqiu could not see it through his heavy veil and the silk curtains that shrouded the palanquin, but he knew what it looked like from books and the night hunts he'd once joined before the Void Walkers arrived and changed everything: a dark and sandy plain adjoined with an eternal sea, and overhead a black sky with no stars. Between land and sea stood the ancient city, shaped like a tiered cone or ziggurat, and lit with a thousand lamps and fires in defiance of the dark. There his bearers left him, just outside the city gates, and probably thought themselves the last living humans that would ever lay eyes on Shen Qingqiu.
But he was not dead yet, as the frantic beating of his own heart in his chest assured him. He folded his hands in his lap and focused on his breathing, doing his best to calm himself before his groom arrived.
In this world, it is the job of cultivators to maintain the barrier between the world of the living and the world of the restless dead, or the Ghostlands. This is not a true afterlife, but rather a sort of bubble dimension or secret plane, curated by the Ghost Kings, to which congregate the spirits of those who do not wish to ride the wheel of reincarnation after death. In ages past a high-level cultivator or deity sacrificed themselves to place an enormous wall of spiritual energy between the Ghostlands and the human realm, blocking weaker ghosts from coming and going as they pleased and stirring up trouble in the human realm. Unfortunately this barrier, or "veil" is both permeable and easily weakened by certain rituals or bloodshed. The Ghost Kings in particular like to stir up trouble by encouraging cults in their honor among humans, exchanging trite favors in exchange for spiritual energy and their hard-won wealth.
In a city you know quite well, a sudden downpour has forced you to take cover under an storefront awning. Perhaps this fills you with annoyance, or perhaps you are simply content to wait out the rain -- but as you stand there watching the rain, you find yourself with company. A young man, cursing softly to himself while he holds a green jacket over his head, scurries under the awning; perhaps you're not normally one to notice the clothes and looks of other people (or perhaps you are! There's nothing wrong with being a bit of a clothes horse ;3) but as the young man fixes his clothes and hair, it occurs to you that he's young, fresh-faced, and perhaps...Not entirely from around here?
2. An Astonishing Coincidence
Maybe you were just passing the time, or perhaps something about this young man charmed you, or maybe you were secretly teasing him. But at some point after he's told you his name (Shen Something, wasn't it? Shen Yuan, or Shen Luguang, or maybe even Shen Qingqiu?) but before the rain's entirely let up, he mentions that he's come to this city pursuing a job -- in fact, he's answering a help wanted ad from someone you know! Perhaps it's a domineering parent, or a busybody sibling, or even your own employer or liege lord! Regardless this person seems to be seeking a personal assistant, and Shen Whoever is supposed to meet them in person for the very first time today!
How does this make you feel? Will you be nice and help Shen Whoever make his appointment? Or will you laugh and bid him good luck. You won't...surely you won't try to sabotage him somehow! ...Will you?
Well, assuming you didn't sabotage that poor man (though it's not necessarily the end of the story if you do: the multiverse is infinite, after all, and there are endless paths to love, uwu) the next time you see your brother (or lord, or parent, or employer!) it will be together. Either you'll enter together or you'll come in on the two of them talking; either way that person who thinks they're the boss of you will be surprised and suspicious when they realize you already know each other -- but once you've explained the situation they'll nod thoughtfully, and finally say, "It's definitely not what I'd planned, but this might work out even better. It's good that you two seem to like each other, anyway; spouses are supposed to get along --"
The rain, oh, it was a wonder Limgrave wasn't drowned the same as Liurnia! Thank heavens this rectory had been built more sturdily than its church. Either the more modest construction had made it sturdy, or Marika's priests had seen fit to keep themselves more comfortably appointed than their god.
He couldn't imagine the church had ever been a warm and inviting place, not with the weather here. Its roof had long ago fallen in, and thus Marika's dour statue was getting rained on above her altar, while he... well, he could at least aspire to drying out again one day.
The road here was rarely-traveled these days. It turned south, away from the Erdtree. Of no particular use to the Tarnished, certainly, though The Lord's devoted had interests here.
And so it was quite a surprise to see a stranger approaching, through one of the broken windows. He'd be hospitable, then, long enough to take the measure of this one.
The old door stuck in its frame for a moment as he opened it, the wood swelled by damp. "Goodness, I thought I was the only one on the road today," he called. "Come now, inside, before you catch cold."
There'd been a time when he'd had a very nice oiled raincloak, green like the rest of his wardrobe, with a jade clasp for good luck. Well, arguably it had served its purpose: it had snapped suddenly, several weeks ago, whilst he found himself pinned down by a drooling madman whose scrawny arms belied a terrifying strength. The sudden surprise of the cloak falling off his shoulders had given him a much-needed opening to roll free and run: he'd escaped, but ever since he'd had naught to rely on but his silk and cotton robes for protection from the elements, and frankly, they had failed in their task.
That was then: by now he was dressed in little better than rags, and the call of a kindly voice makes him nearly lose his footing in shock before eagerly picking up the pace. "Th-thank you," he gasps through chattering teeth as he reaches the doorway, his long black hair stuck to his face and neck while his sopping rags scarcely preserve his modestly. "I thought all kindness had been drained from this land long ago," he says ruefully, and politely bows his head through his shivering. "If it pleases you, please call me Shen Yuan."
Knowing each other is a bit of a strong way of phrasing it. Shen Yuan had attended lectures in the Cloud Recesses a few years back, and Xichen had spoken with the young man's second brother a number of times at various functions. The only time they had spent anything resembling time together was briefly during a conference where Lan Xichen had accidentally consumed a mouthful of wine, and Shen Yuan had been kind enough to make his excuses for him while Lan Xichen retreated to the solitude of the gardens until its effects wore off.
He couldn't say he disliked Shen Yuan - rather the opposite - the young man had done him quite the service and saved him embarrassing himself and his sect. It's just... well.
They don't really know each other all that well, shufu!
It is a great relief when Lan Qiren steps outside, and from where he's seated across from Shen Yuan, his shoulders visibly sag.
"I am... very sorry about this. It would appear our families were conspiring behind our backs."
His face is effused with a gentle, assuring warmth, a radiant smile blooming on delicate lips with just a hint of humour to take the edge off the awkwardness. Lan Xichen's fame almost always precedes him and it is not undeserved - not moments ago he looked utterly mortified at the surprise betrothal. Now, he was working overtime to reassure the young man across from him.
"I have no objections to the arrangement -" which is true. The Shen family's reputation as merchants is impeccable, and they still maintain their old cultivation traditions from the days they were a proper sect. He cannot muster any serious objection - it is, by and large, a very agreeable match. "- but if you do, please tell me now truthfully. I would not force the matter if you have any discomfort with it. Ultimately you and I are the ones with the final say here."
And as well meaning as shufu is, Xichen has no desire to go through with any betrothal unless his spouse-to-be is also on board. He has seen what marriages foisted upon two unwilling parties do to people; he would not let this sweet-faced gentlemen live in bitter resentment just to appease their family. If shufu thought relations with the Shen family were valuable, there are surely other ways of cementing such an alliance that didn't involve marrying their unwilling son to a man he barely knew.
Shen Yuan had thought he'd done quite well at maintaining his composure up until now: he'd stayed calm and serene under Lan Qiren's intense scrutiny and the painful embarrassment of Lan Xichen's confusion. Even now he was careful not to show any of the outrage and sympathy he felt on the other man's behalf, lest they be mistaken for unfilial sentiment. But Lan Xichen's earnest kindness, coming from that famously beautiful face...it was really more than Shen Yuan's face could bear! He could already hear er-ge teasing him for being such a softy, but he doubted Shen Jiu could do any better! Lan Xichen really was too good for this world, too pure!
Still, he made an effort to moderate his reaction, for the sake of his own and his fiance's dignity. "If Lan-zongzhu is alright with it, then I don't see any reason to object either," he says shyly, feeling his own face warm as he greedily studied every inch of Lan Xichen's face from the corner of one modestly-averted eye. "In truth I was very pleased, when da-ge told me we'd received a proposal from the Lan. I only regret my future husband did not receive the same opportunity." That much had to be okay, surely?
Xichen is not renowned for being stingy, but he doesn't give gifts lightly either. From him, they must be things of significance; things both wanted and needed and not just some fancy baubles to be marveled at and then tucked away in a jewelry box or put up on a shelf to be forgotten.
And this is for the man who is going to be his husband! He should give him things that convey the depths of his affection. Something beautiful, austere, but not ostentatious.
It's a month before he and Shen Yuan are reunited. During that month, they wrote each other, of course, and the occasional carriage arrived from the Shen Estate with many of Shen Yuan's possessions so that he might have an easier time settling into his new home once he's properly wed.
And goodness, the many silent dinners, and only marginally quieter meetings they both have to sit through as Shen Jiu and Shen Qi speak with Lan Qiren about matters of the ceremony, and the dowry, and a lasting alliance as the Shen family returns to being a legitimate sect.
(They sit through the whole ordeal, prim and proper -- or at least mostly so. Xichen cheekily links their pinkies under the table, and though he doesn't smile with his mouth, his eyes are positively sparkling.)
Night has fallen by the time everyone is finished putting each agreement into print, signed and sealed, Qiren permits his nephew to see Shen Yuan to what will, eventually, be his official living quarters (though Xichen suspects they will likely be occupying whichever house the other is in). The Cloud Recesses are never particularly noisy, but even the sounds of the day-to-day bustle are absent, replaced by the trill of night creatures. The weather is cooling quickly at these altitudes, the leaves taking on shades of gold and crimson - the peaks will be blanketed in snow when they wed, and Xichen cannot imagine anything more beautiful than the striking contrast of their red robes against the fluffy white snow.
He walks arm-in-arm with Shen Yuan, elated by this reunion. He will miss him when he has to return home once more, but he consoles himself with the knowledge that the third time he returns, it will be to stay.
"Will you miss your home...?" he asks, a breeze rustling the bamboo leaves as they take a meandering pace along the many walkways of the Cloud Recesses.
In the Gusu Lan sect, there is a famous idiom about how similar weddings and funerals are. Both are equally solemn. It's a staid affair, everyone rigidly playing their part when Xichen and Shen Yuan make their vows and bows.
The banquet is what one would come to expect of Lan cuisine. Bitter and medicinal at worst, bland at best. Barely anyone exchanges a word since there is no talking allowed while they dine.
If there is one thing good about Lan weddings, they have a very definite end point thanks to the strict Lan bedtime. By eight o-clock, the bride and groom are escorted to the Hanshi, and left to their own devices. No one sticks around to make sure Shen Yuan loses his virginity and no one will check in the morning. Chastity is no grounds for annulment in the Lan sect, unless they're starving for heirs - and at the moment they are not. They have an heir, a spare, and a handful of cousins with some nieces and nephews on the horizon. The Lan tend to reproduce quite prolifically once they've found an agreeable spouse.
Thus, Shen Yuan and Lan Xichen are afforded all privacy.
The door shuts behind them, and a Xichen's shoulders sag with relief and a weary sigh escapes him.
"Shufu really didn't have to recite all 3500 rules," he chuckles, straightening his back and taking Shen Yuan by the hands.
He can see his beloved's face through the translucent red silk veil, and his smile grows warm and soft. They've waited so long for this, had (relatively) behaved themselves and now Xichen can't take his eyes off of Shen Yuan. He didn't think this affection could grow any deeper, but here they are, with his heart beating in his throat, and Shen Yuan there and so beautiful he could cry.
"There is ...one last thing," he says softly, giving Shen Yuan's hands a squeeze.
It was deeply unfortunate how much bullshit he had to put up with now that he'd returned to the role of Shen Qingqiu -- starting with the fact that he couldn't actually say the word 'bullshit' out loud anymore, unless he wanted to shatter his reputation and risk getting outed as an imposter. He had to look and act properly at all times, which, damn it! He hadn't even realized just how much he'd relaxed his face in Trench until suddenly that freedom was all gone! And while he had Shen Qingqiu's cultivation back, it had brought Without A Cure along with it. Xiu Ya couldn't talk to him anymore, he had the looming threat of Binghe's return once more over his head, and there was nobody he could talk to about any of it, not even Airplane. The stupid jerkface asshat would probably just start whining about how he hadn't gotten to go anywhere in thirty years or whatever, ugh. Hard pass.
Still, it's wasn't entirely bad. Qing Jing Peak was wonderfully predictable in its day-to-day routine; he wouldn't have to worry about his cute little village suddenly going all Inception-y or getting attacked by zombie dogs or any of that nonsense, and he was genuinely glad to see all his sweet disciples again (minus the obvious Binghe-shaped gap of course, but he was trying not to think about that). And even if his cultivation was handicapped, it wasn't bad enough that he was barred from leaving the peak (as if anyone could stop a peak lord from coming and going as he pleased, hah!) and Liu Qingge was always happy to tag along on this or that little adventure.
In fact, that's what they were doing today: word had gotten back to Cang Qiong Mountain Sect of a rogue cultivator setting himself up in one of the small villages within their territory, and Shen Qingqiu had volunteered to go and speak with him. It didn't seem that the gentleman in question had done anyone any harm; in fact he seemed to have a knack for building traps that could capture and dispatch lesser demons with ease. Still, a Great Sect couldn't leave just anyone to wander around their territory, if for no other reason that it would look bad to outsiders. Shen Qingqiu had half a mind to just offer the man an outer discipleship and leave him in peace, and when he'd said as much to Yue Qingyuan before leaving the sect leader hadn't seemed at all opposed, so long as the rogue cultivator was honest and righteous in deeds as well as his reputation. They'd see what he had to say for himself.
"Liu-shidi must remember to let this master do all the talking," Shen Qingqiu reminded his traveling companion, lifting the curtain on his carriage window so he could lean out and speak to the other peak lord on his horse. Why Liu Qingge would never simply join him inside the carriage, he'd never understand! Maybe he liked the macho image he cut? Or he was hoping they'd be ambushed by demons or bandits and he could sneak in a quick fight before they reached the village, whichever.
Liu Qingge simply grunted, which Shen Qingqiu chose to take as assent. He smiled and sat back down, the curtain dropping before he could see the way Liu Qingge blushed, his eyes darting over to catch a quick glimpse of Shen Qingqiu's white wrist before it withdrew. (Poor Liu Qingge! Even out of the closet, Shen Yuan was just too blind to romance to realize how much he like-liked him!)
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timeasmymeasure
PSL: When in Chang'An
Date: 2022-10-20 10:18 pm (UTC)Sorry, Jin-ge, he had time to think just before everything went black. Didn't mean to ditch you like this...
The next time he opened his eyes, it was because the throbbing in his bitten arm had grown too painful to ignore. He was lying on his side, in the dirt; the sky was obscured by thick and leafy branches from the trees that loomed overhead.
So not only was he injured, but once again he'd been teleported into the fucking woods. That was great, honestly. Just great!
no subject
Date: 2022-10-20 10:30 pm (UTC)Lan Xichen had needed some time to think, now that his brother had recovered from his injuries and slipped off into the world to search for a man he likely wouldn't find. Life was cruel like that, and Lan Xichen had no desire to make it more-so. He let his brother go.
It didn't make the ache of missing him lessen any, but the cool evening air and the fresh smell after a rain helped shake out the more dismal thoughts settling at the corners of his mind and collecting dust.
His musings were promptly disrupted when he spotted someone sprawled prone across the narrow path. He hesitated a moment, in case it was a trap or a corpse, but only a moment, as he weighed his obligation to the wounded as far more pressing than any danger to himself. The man was breathing after all, so he couldn't be the dead walking.
Kneeling beside the man, he extends a hand to help him sit upright.
"Are you alright...?" he asks voice soft, soothing, but there's a lilt of concern.
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Date: 2022-10-20 10:50 pm (UTC)"Cultivator...?" The word slipped out without his realizing, pain and surprise making his self-control slip. He knew all the cultivators in Trench, and this man wasn't one of them. It was possible that he was a new arrival who'd just stayed under the radar 'til now -- or Shen Yuan had transmigrated again. Only one way to find out.
"Forgive me, gongzi, for speaking so casually," he says, allowing himself to wince and clutch his injured arm. "This one has been injured, and my head...please, where are we?"
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Date: 2022-10-20 11:04 pm (UTC)A pair of cool fingers press gently to his wrist, just to check.
To address his other question, Lan Xichen chuckles.
"We're in the hills south of Caiyi Town. You must have hit your head. What do you remember last?"
He touches around Shen Yuan's head, checking for bumps or sore spots. Head injuries could be particularly insidious if not seen to quickly.
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From:When in Chang'An Part 2: The Cloud Recesses
Date: 2022-10-21 11:48 pm (UTC)Like another sect he'd once known, the Gusu Lan had built their home on a mountain, surrounded by bamboo and pine trees. The air was always slightly damp and filled with the sound of trickling water, and an aura of tranquility weighed heavily on the sect like a comforting blanket. It was beautiful. It was painful. It felt like a home Shen Yuan had already resigned himself to never seeing again, a home he had in fact been actively planning to flee just before he'd woke in Trench, but that didn't make it any less painful.
He tried not to linger too much when his schedule took him outside, not wanting to face those feelings. But they wouldn't leave him alone or ease themselves without his input, until one day he found himself seated in one of the open pavilions on the edge of the sect, looking at the bamboo with an aching heart and damp cheeks.
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Date: 2022-10-22 12:06 am (UTC)But from the ashes, life sprang anew and carried on. As things had settled, new structures once more began to feel at home.
Sometimes, Lan Xichen took to wandering, remembering how things once were. There would come a day when no one did, and so he kept the memory alive and safe.
His musings are interrupted when he hears someone draw a shuddering breath. Curious, he follows the sound, only to find Yuan seated under the roof of a pavilion, face streaked with tears.
Lan Xichen approaches, already procuring a silk kerchief from the fold of his robes and offers it to him.
"Is it familiar here...?" he asks softly. Perhaps Yuan was from somewhere like the Cloud Recesses, or perhaps he'd even been here before. Moreover, whatever it was had pained him to the point of tears, and Lan Xichen was reluctant to leave him alone with his misery.
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Date: 2022-10-22 12:23 am (UTC)To Lan Xichen's question he can only shrug. "I suppose it must have!" He laughs helplessly. "I don't...I really can't think of any other reason why I'd act like this, it surely isn't the trees' fault. They're beautiful. Everything's so beautiful here, peaceful and tr-tranquil --" To his shame his voice cracks, and he hastily hides his face in one of his sleeves with a mortified blush.
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From:When in Chang'An Part 3 - Home Sweet Mountain
Date: 2022-10-23 03:05 am (UTC)In for a penny, in for a pound, after all.
And if the young man wished to see if there was some way of restoring a golden core after it had been destroyed, would that not be beneficial to all? So many had suffered at the hands of Wen Zhuliu; what harm was there in giving Yuan a chance?
This is how Shen Yuan would find himself being led by the gentle-hearted Sect Leader to the newly constructed library pavilion, escorted between shelves and Lan Xichen detailed their rather considerable collection of materials. Shen Yuan was, of course, welcomed to help himself, so long as he handled the books and scrolls with care. Many were quite old and quite delicate, made more the latter by some nebulous fire Lan Xichen mentioned but did not seem too keen on elaborating on.
It's a toddler, barely four years old, that scuttles through the unlocked doors, chewing on a hangnail and making a beeline to Shen Yuan's leg, onto which the boy immediately latches himself.
"Hi," he greets, beaming up at Shen Yuan with bright and cheerful eyes. "New gege."
"A-Yuan," Lan Xichen warns gently, kneeling down to try to coax the child off. He had a habit of drooling on things, and some part of him had to wonder if he and his brother had ever been so perpetually varying states of muddy and/or sticky. "What have I said about grabbing onto strangers...?"
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Date: 2022-10-23 03:25 pm (UTC)Shen Yuan's lip part in a smile that is, at least for the moment, totally unguarded in its surprised glee. "Aw, it's fine," he says, kneeling down next to Lan Xichen to smile some more at the baby. What a sweet little bun! "Like the little man said, we're brothers now, aren't we?"
"My name is Yuan too," he informs the baby. "But you can call me Yuan-ge so people don't get confused, okay?"
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From:When in Chang'An Part 4: Rubber Duckie, You're the One
Date: 2022-10-24 04:50 pm (UTC)Most sects and households turned it into a group activity: the elders and shizuns would receive assistance from their personal disciples, who in turn would receive assistance from the other disciples, who would then assist each other and any children in the sect. Shen Qingqiu had shifted for himself until the day he'd brought Luo Binghe into the Bamboo House; after that, still worried about Binghe being bullied by the other disciples, the two of them had assisted each other. The shocked look on Luo Binghe's face when his master took the comb out of his hand and bid him turn around had been adorable, especially when it quickly melted into happy smiles and shivering. Binghe had had the healthiest, most beautiful hair in the sect after that, truly worthy of the protagonist.
Of course it wasn't just the washing that took up so much time. The hair had to be dried too, and combed with scented oils to keep the strands supple and strong. No cultivator wanted to be seen with split ends! The oils chosen would usually also have a fortifying effect on the cultivator's qi, too, so it was a useful habit to keep up on multiple levels.
Of course the Lans washed and conditioned their hair too, and of course they turned it into a whole thing, with posted schedules and water rations and duty rosters. With his ambiguous status within the sect, Shen Yuan had expected to see his name near the bottom of the list, washing his hair with the servants and babies maybe, so it took him some time to actually find his own name.
Finally one of the apprentices had gently nudged him and pointed to the top of the list: Lan Qiren, Zewu-jun, Hanguang-jun, Lan Yuan. Attending: Shen Yuan.
The real Shen Yuan's brain broke a little. He was being asked to help the sect leader and his family.
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Date: 2022-10-24 06:43 pm (UTC)"Between helping me and your brother," his uncle had gruffed, "you can use an extra pair of hands with your nephew. Besides, I'd like to get a measure of this other remnant of the Wen clan."
He was quite mortified to see the list posted before he had an opportunity to ask Shen Yuan, or finalize it.
"Uncle..." he groans under his breath, massaging the sides of his head where he can feel the beginnings of a headache.
Still, he arrives on time, helping his brother get situated. Lan Wangji's bare back was marked with barely healed, criss-crossing scars that still caused him obvious pain, and it was clear Lan Xichen would have his hands full attending to his brother.
Lan Qiren was relaxing, as was the wont of the elderly. A fresh batch of apprentices from some smaller cultivation families had their first lessons today, and things had gone about as expected. Lan Yuan was already fishing around in the water. When Shen Yuan arrives, Lan Xichen flashes him an apologetic smile.
"Good afternoon," he greets, though Lan Yuan is already on his feet, running to cling to Shen Yuan's leg.
"Big Yuan-ge," the boy greets, bright and cheerful as ever.
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From:Lord Among Ghosts -- Fantasy Genre-Fusion Top Level
Date: 2023-04-21 04:06 am (UTC)Setting inspo: The Husky and His White Cat Shizun, Lovecraft by way of the Old Gods of World of Warcraft, and this fic specifically by x_los, as pertains to Shen Yuan and Shen Jiu. Cliffnotes: they are two separate, unrelated people in this setting, and Shen Yuan is the peak lord known as Shen Qingqiu while Shen Jiu holds the courtesy name Fuzhao and is the famously beloved/infamous bitchy spouse of Sect Leader Yue Qingyuan.
Shen Qingqiu has been promised in marriage to one of the ghost kings, but I am nothing if not a multi-shipping whore and happy to bring in Shen Luguang or a transmigrating Shen Yuan if people want him, =uwu=
Arranged Marriage -- closed to sink for now
Date: 2023-04-21 04:43 am (UTC)It quickly became clear to both the peak lords and the council of kings, which ruled the Ghostlands, that to maintain the status quo would spell doom for both their worlds. Thus a treaty was formed -- but the restless dead required insurance. A marriage must take place, to seal the treaty: yang bound in sacred submission to yin, a peak lord taken into the household of a ghost king and held there in trust against his or her martial family's good behavior. A hostage and living embodiment of the treaty in one. Shen Qingqiu had volunteered himself for the role.
It was no great sacrifice, to his mind. He was not a great warrior, nor an invaluable healer or craftsman: he was a scholar, but even then all of his knowledge was written down and preserved in the library of Qing Jing Peak, which preceeded him by generations and would endure long after he was gone. Cang Qiong would not suffer by his absense, and perhaps his knowledge of monsters and ghosts would even give him an advantage in navigating their society, and working to maintain the treaty from the other side. These all seemed perfectly reasonable arguments to him, and he had never been one to value his own comfort before the needs of his peers -- nor could said peers find any reason to force a substitution. A bride was needed, and Shen Qingqiu was willing. What more needed to be said?
(But Shen Fuzhao, whose sharp eyes always saw more than was good for him, insisted on helping Shen Qingqiu dress himself in the matrimonial robes, and giving him an unnecessary hand to boost him into the palaquin. He presses a small clay vial into Shen Qingqiu's hand before departing, and as the bearers lifted the palaquin onto their shoulders Shen Qingqiu carefully unsealed the bottle and sniffed the end of the stopper. A spiritual opiate, he realized; and the note that came with it read, "For if it all becomes too much."
Shen Qingqiu was no great healer, but he knew enough herblore to realize that such a potion would put him into a deep, dreamless sleep from which not even the rage of a ghost king would wake him. To his credit he immediately frowned and resealed the bottle with a touch of his qi, and buried it in the lowest depths of his storage sleeve. He could not think of a manuever more in bad faith, than to take himself out of the marriage before it had even begun.)
It took the bearers no great time to reach the borders of the Ghostlands, for just like death itself it lay around every corner and looked over every shoulder. Shen Qingqiu could not see it through his heavy veil and the silk curtains that shrouded the palanquin, but he knew what it looked like from books and the night hunts he'd once joined before the Void Walkers arrived and changed everything: a dark and sandy plain adjoined with an eternal sea, and overhead a black sky with no stars. Between land and sea stood the ancient city, shaped like a tiered cone or ziggurat, and lit with a thousand lamps and fires in defiance of the dark. There his bearers left him, just outside the city gates, and probably thought themselves the last living humans that would ever lay eyes on Shen Qingqiu.
But he was not dead yet, as the frantic beating of his own heart in his chest assured him. He folded his hands in his lap and focused on his breathing, doing his best to calm himself before his groom arrived.
World Building 1 -- Cultivators vs Ghosts
Date: 2023-04-23 08:04 am (UTC)This is 98% cultivator propaganda.
How to Get a Boyfriend in 24 Hours or Less (Open RP Prompts)
Date: 2023-05-09 12:04 am (UTC)In a city you know quite well, a sudden downpour has forced you to take cover under an storefront awning. Perhaps this fills you with annoyance, or perhaps you are simply content to wait out the rain -- but as you stand there watching the rain, you find yourself with company. A young man, cursing softly to himself while he holds a green jacket over his head, scurries under the awning; perhaps you're not normally one to notice the clothes and looks of other people (or perhaps you are! There's nothing wrong with being a bit of a clothes horse ;3) but as the young man fixes his clothes and hair, it occurs to you that he's young, fresh-faced, and perhaps...Not entirely from around here?
2. An Astonishing Coincidence
Maybe you were just passing the time, or perhaps something about this young man charmed you, or maybe you were secretly teasing him. But at some point after he's told you his name (Shen Something, wasn't it? Shen Yuan, or Shen Luguang, or maybe even Shen Qingqiu?) but before the rain's entirely let up, he mentions that he's come to this city pursuing a job -- in fact, he's answering a help wanted ad from someone you know! Perhaps it's a domineering parent, or a busybody sibling, or even your own employer or liege lord! Regardless this person seems to be seeking a personal assistant, and Shen Whoever is supposed to meet them in person for the very first time today!
How does this make you feel? Will you be nice and help Shen Whoever make his appointment? Or will you laugh and bid him good luck. You won't...surely you won't try to sabotage him somehow! ...Will you?
3. Congratulations! Congratulations! Congratulations!
Well, assuming you didn't sabotage that poor man (though it's not necessarily the end of the story if you do: the multiverse is infinite, after all, and there are endless paths to love, uwu) the next time you see your brother (or lord, or parent, or employer!) it will be together. Either you'll enter together or you'll come in on the two of them talking; either way that person who thinks they're the boss of you will be surprised and suspicious when they realize you already know each other -- but once you've explained the situation they'll nod thoughtfully, and finally say, "It's definitely not what I'd planned, but this might work out even better. It's good that you two seem to like each other, anyway; spouses are supposed to get along --"
Wait a minute, did they just say spouses??
What the heck???
1. Meeting the cute. C:
Date: 2023-05-09 03:23 am (UTC)He couldn't imagine the church had ever been a warm and inviting place, not with the weather here. Its roof had long ago fallen in, and thus Marika's dour statue was getting rained on above her altar, while he... well, he could at least aspire to drying out again one day.
The road here was rarely-traveled these days. It turned south, away from the Erdtree. Of no particular use to the Tarnished, certainly, though The Lord's devoted had interests here.
And so it was quite a surprise to see a stranger approaching, through one of the broken windows. He'd be hospitable, then, long enough to take the measure of this one.
The old door stuck in its frame for a moment as he opened it, the wood swelled by damp. "Goodness, I thought I was the only one on the road today," he called. "Come now, inside, before you catch cold."
no subject
Date: 2023-05-09 05:03 am (UTC)That was then: by now he was dressed in little better than rags, and the call of a kindly voice makes him nearly lose his footing in shock before eagerly picking up the pace. "Th-thank you," he gasps through chattering teeth as he reaches the doorway, his long black hair stuck to his face and neck while his sopping rags scarcely preserve his modestly. "I thought all kindness had been drained from this land long ago," he says ruefully, and politely bows his head through his shivering. "If it pleases you, please call me Shen Yuan."
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From:Congratulations!
Date: 2023-05-09 07:40 am (UTC)He couldn't say he disliked Shen Yuan - rather the opposite - the young man had done him quite the service and saved him embarrassing himself and his sect. It's just... well.
They don't really know each other all that well, shufu!
It is a great relief when Lan Qiren steps outside, and from where he's seated across from Shen Yuan, his shoulders visibly sag.
"I am... very sorry about this. It would appear our families were conspiring behind our backs."
His face is effused with a gentle, assuring warmth, a radiant smile blooming on delicate lips with just a hint of humour to take the edge off the awkwardness. Lan Xichen's fame almost always precedes him and it is not undeserved - not moments ago he looked utterly mortified at the surprise betrothal. Now, he was working overtime to reassure the young man across from him.
"I have no objections to the arrangement -" which is true. The Shen family's reputation as merchants is impeccable, and they still maintain their old cultivation traditions from the days they were a proper sect. He cannot muster any serious objection - it is, by and large, a very agreeable match. "- but if you do, please tell me now truthfully. I would not force the matter if you have any discomfort with it. Ultimately you and I are the ones with the final say here."
And as well meaning as shufu is, Xichen has no desire to go through with any betrothal unless his spouse-to-be is also on board. He has seen what marriages foisted upon two unwilling parties do to people; he would not let this sweet-faced gentlemen live in bitter resentment just to appease their family. If shufu thought relations with the Shen family were valuable, there are surely other ways of cementing such an alliance that didn't involve marrying their unwilling son to a man he barely knew.
no subject
Date: 2023-05-09 07:58 am (UTC)Still, he made an effort to moderate his reaction, for the sake of his own and his fiance's dignity. "If Lan-zongzhu is alright with it, then I don't see any reason to object either," he says shyly, feeling his own face warm as he greedily studied every inch of Lan Xichen's face from the corner of one modestly-averted eye. "In truth I was very pleased, when da-ge told me we'd received a proposal from the Lan. I only regret my future husband did not receive the same opportunity." That much had to be okay, surely?
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From:Gifts for the Betrothed
Date: 2023-05-25 06:38 pm (UTC)And this is for the man who is going to be his husband! He should give him things that convey the depths of his affection. Something beautiful, austere, but not ostentatious.
It's a month before he and Shen Yuan are reunited. During that month, they wrote each other, of course, and the occasional carriage arrived from the Shen Estate with many of Shen Yuan's possessions so that he might have an easier time settling into his new home once he's properly wed.
And goodness, the many silent dinners, and only marginally quieter meetings they both have to sit through as Shen Jiu and Shen Qi speak with Lan Qiren about matters of the ceremony, and the dowry, and a lasting alliance as the Shen family returns to being a legitimate sect.
(They sit through the whole ordeal, prim and proper -- or at least mostly so. Xichen cheekily links their pinkies under the table, and though he doesn't smile with his mouth, his eyes are positively sparkling.)
Night has fallen by the time everyone is finished putting each agreement into print, signed and sealed, Qiren permits his nephew to see Shen Yuan to what will, eventually, be his official living quarters (though Xichen suspects they will likely be occupying whichever house the other is in). The Cloud Recesses are never particularly noisy, but even the sounds of the day-to-day bustle are absent, replaced by the trill of night creatures. The weather is cooling quickly at these altitudes, the leaves taking on shades of gold and crimson - the peaks will be blanketed in snow when they wed, and Xichen cannot imagine anything more beautiful than the striking contrast of their red robes against the fluffy white snow.
He walks arm-in-arm with Shen Yuan, elated by this reunion. He will miss him when he has to return home once more, but he consoles himself with the knowledge that the third time he returns, it will be to stay.
"Will you miss your home...?" he asks, a breeze rustling the bamboo leaves as they take a meandering pace along the many walkways of the Cloud Recesses.
Re: Gifts for the Betrothed
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From:Wedding Night
Date: 2023-07-06 02:41 am (UTC)The banquet is what one would come to expect of Lan cuisine. Bitter and medicinal at worst, bland at best. Barely anyone exchanges a word since there is no talking allowed while they dine.
If there is one thing good about Lan weddings, they have a very definite end point thanks to the strict Lan bedtime. By eight o-clock, the bride and groom are escorted to the Hanshi, and left to their own devices. No one sticks around to make sure Shen Yuan loses his virginity and no one will check in the morning. Chastity is no grounds for annulment in the Lan sect, unless they're starving for heirs - and at the moment they are not. They have an heir, a spare, and a handful of cousins with some nieces and nephews on the horizon. The Lan tend to reproduce quite prolifically once they've found an agreeable spouse.
Thus, Shen Yuan and Lan Xichen are afforded all privacy.
The door shuts behind them, and a Xichen's shoulders sag with relief and a weary sigh escapes him.
"Shufu really didn't have to recite all 3500 rules," he chuckles, straightening his back and taking Shen Yuan by the hands.
He can see his beloved's face through the translucent red silk veil, and his smile grows warm and soft. They've waited so long for this, had (relatively) behaved themselves and now Xichen can't take his eyes off of Shen Yuan. He didn't think this affection could grow any deeper, but here they are, with his heart beating in his throat, and Shen Yuan there and so beautiful he could cry.
"There is ...one last thing," he says softly, giving Shen Yuan's hands a squeeze.
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From:Texts from Last Night!
Date: 2023-05-09 03:28 am (UTC)2. He just canceled. I got an amazing new robe and now he’s decided he’s spending the weekend with his family
3. it is time to test the effects of half a loaf of bread and overconfidence on the human body
4. that's the second time my extensive knowledge of taylor swift has gotten me laid
5. Text him!
3!
Date: 2023-05-09 06:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2023-05-09 08:03 am (UTC)And if I'm wrong, at least I won't be hungry anymore. A win-win situation, you see
A Scum Villain in PIDW (JGY+SY crossover)
Date: 2023-05-20 09:58 pm (UTC)Still, it's wasn't entirely bad. Qing Jing Peak was wonderfully predictable in its day-to-day routine; he wouldn't have to worry about his cute little village suddenly going all Inception-y or getting attacked by zombie dogs or any of that nonsense, and he was genuinely glad to see all his sweet disciples again (minus the obvious Binghe-shaped gap of course, but he was trying not to think about that). And even if his cultivation was handicapped, it wasn't bad enough that he was barred from leaving the peak (as if anyone could stop a peak lord from coming and going as he pleased, hah!) and Liu Qingge was always happy to tag along on this or that little adventure.
In fact, that's what they were doing today: word had gotten back to Cang Qiong Mountain Sect of a rogue cultivator setting himself up in one of the small villages within their territory, and Shen Qingqiu had volunteered to go and speak with him. It didn't seem that the gentleman in question had done anyone any harm; in fact he seemed to have a knack for building traps that could capture and dispatch lesser demons with ease. Still, a Great Sect couldn't leave just anyone to wander around their territory, if for no other reason that it would look bad to outsiders. Shen Qingqiu had half a mind to just offer the man an outer discipleship and leave him in peace, and when he'd said as much to Yue Qingyuan before leaving the sect leader hadn't seemed at all opposed, so long as the rogue cultivator was honest and righteous in deeds as well as his reputation. They'd see what he had to say for himself.
"Liu-shidi must remember to let this master do all the talking," Shen Qingqiu reminded his traveling companion, lifting the curtain on his carriage window so he could lean out and speak to the other peak lord on his horse. Why Liu Qingge would never simply join him inside the carriage, he'd never understand! Maybe he liked the macho image he cut? Or he was hoping they'd be ambushed by demons or bandits and he could sneak in a quick fight before they reached the village, whichever.
Liu Qingge simply grunted, which Shen Qingqiu chose to take as assent. He smiled and sat back down, the curtain dropping before he could see the way Liu Qingge blushed, his eyes darting over to catch a quick glimpse of Shen Qingqiu's white wrist before it withdrew. (Poor Liu Qingge! Even out of the closet, Shen Yuan was just too blind to romance to realize how much he like-liked him!)