Chapter Text
When he had come knocking on Xiao Jiu's door, worried after he hadn't shown in public for a week, this wasn't what he expected.
Honestly, he didn't think anyone could have anticipated this.
He stared at the mirror image of Xiao Jiu sitting cross-legged in front of the low table, scowling at a scroll clad with small drabbles, stick figures and inkblots. Next to it, still in a place that indicated that this other Shen Qingqiu had finished it, laid a fully completed puzzle that he was sure some of his higher level disciples would struggle to finish.
This copy, this Shen Yuan --
He wasn't an adult, he was barely even human. He was a hodgepodge of slapped together experiences, all carefully copied over but not truly bound together into a cohesive whole.
Every single movement he took, each word he said, had been made by Shen Jiu at one point or another. The jokes he tried making had been said before, the stories he told were all familiar.
"He's still new," Xiao Jiu defended. "Of course he can't make something of his own! He has never had any experiences that I have not had earlier, so he has nothing to draw on that I didn't either. It'll change as he grows."
Yue Qingyuan didn't stop his dubious expression from encroaching on his face. "Are you sure, shidi?" he couldn't help but ask. "Is this lack of innovation in the copy not simply an effect of the ritual?"
He didn't want Xiao Jiu to grow devastated as time passed and his copy didn't change, didn't grow. Better to accept it now.
Xiao Jiu glared at him. "His name is Shen Yuan," he hissed. "He's not just a copy, and you won't be there to find out. Get out."
Yue Qingyuan went.
Though the copy -- no, call it like it was -- though Shen Yuan was cognitively on the level of any other adult, his emotional and mental development was still... unpracticed.
He wasn't a baby, you wouldn't find him using childish grammar or demanding explanations for the simplest things, but there was this certain... innocence, almost, to all the actions he took. Like he understood cause and effect but lacked the experience and knowledge to properly guess what the result of any one action would be.
He learned quickly, Yue Qingyuan saw. Shen Yuan only had to cut himself on broken glass once before he ascertained proper treatment of the dishes, that one time Yue Qingyuan visited just before dinner time in futile hope for an invitation, but the discrepancy felt strange nonetheless.
So when Yue Qingyuan had searched out a gift to take with him, he had been careful. He'd traced through his memories of Xiao Jiu, each one easily recalled with the comfort of a well-worn sleeping robe, fraying at the edges of old age and a refusal to retire it when it was meant to.
When they were children, he had carved a collection of wooden figures of animals for Xiao Jiu. Wood was cheap, and small pieces always laid discarded outside the woodworker. He had spent days just watching as the man created beautiful facsimiles of the outside world, keeping careful track of all of the man’s actions before he tried repeating them himself.
His gifts to Xiao Jiu had been clumsily made, some more resembling mere lumps of wood rather than the creatures he had modelled them after, but they had been all he could give him. Xiao Jiu had adored them nonetheless, and guarded them with all the viciousness of his favourite dragon figurine.
Later, when they were both disciples at Cang Qiong, he could give him what he had always wanted to give him: delicately made masterpieces, bought with real gold, instead of a child’s awkward imitations. He hadn’t stopped making them himself, but why would Xiao Jiu want his work when he could have a Master’s?
It wasn’t good enough for Xiao Jiu though, his presents discarded and forgotten, but alas. It was nothing less than what he deserved.
So he picked up his woodworking tools, leagues better than what even that old Master back in his childhood had possessed, and set to making soft, round creatures. On a whim, he even modelled some after monsters rather than common family animals, figuring Shen Yuan might enjoy the variety.
He presented them to Shen Yuan as Shen Qingqiu stared at him with a hawk's eye from the corner of the room, not willing to trust him with Shen Yuan alone. Yue Qingyuan didn't take it personally -- that he was allowed near Shen Yuan at all was a miracle, if he went by the conspicuous lack of rumours going around in Qing Jing.
Shen Yuan oohed and aahed at the great variety of beasts, setting them down in a wide row. They looked almost to be placed randomly but must have been organised by some method Yue Qingyuan couldn’t put a finger on, because more than once Shen Yuan painstakingly moved half one place to the side to make way for a specific figurine.
“Jiu-ge,” Shen Yuan called when everything was placed down. “Come look!”
Shen Qingqiu walked over with stilted motions, settling down with a pin-straight back. Yue Qingyuan anxiously looked for a reaction, any indication to what direction his shidi’s feelings may lay, but Shen Qingqiu’s face was indecipherable as he picked up a white-backed winged gazelle, running a thumb over the marks where Yue Qingyuan’s knife had shot out.
“The artist has improved,” Shen Qingqiu said, voice carefully neutral.
“If you like it, you can keep it,” Shen Yuan said without hesitation. Then he seemed to realise what he’d done and turned to Yue Qingyuan. “Not that I don’t appreciate them! They’re absolutely lovely.”
Yue Qingyuan did not even consider the thought of being offended, mind rushing through all the implications. He came to the final conclusion at the same time as Shen Qingqiu did, and as they shared a wide-eyed look he knew they were both thinking of Shen Jiu’s old possessive ways, of how he had hunched over those old figurines like the world was out to steal them from under him.
How Shen Yuan very clearly did not act that way -- how he was different.
The very first step on the road to self-actualisation, a sign of change and growth and all the things that made a person. It wasn’t much -- was barely anything -- but it could be the start to larger and larger deviations, until one day he would be able to look at Shen Yuan and think him more than a pale copy.
Yue Qingyuan found himself looking forward to it.
"I've never really had friends," Shen Yuan confided. "I mean, I have Jiu-ge, but that's Jiu-ge. He's something else entirely."
He picked up a cookie and examined it briefly before biting down. "I've always wanted them though," he said, waving the left-over bit around. A crumble flew off and landed in Yue Qingyuan’s tea. "From what Jiu-ge's memories show me, it's really nice. There was Qi-ge, and San-jie, and Qiu Haitang. I've never met them, but I love them already."
Yue Qingyuan froze. Qi-ge? He heard that right? Gods, let him have heard that right. That Xiao Jiu deemed any part of him good enough, even the smallest bit... If it turned out he had misheard --
Shen Yuan's shoulders sagged. "It probably isn't as nice as he showed me though. I'm well aware he's taken out bits and pieces to only give me the pretty parts." He turned the cookie over in his hand, staring mournfully at it. "Maybe it's overrated. Lots of things are if I only go by my memories. Like cooking. He only ever showed me the delicious food, never the part where you have to clean up. But I'll never know, you know?"
It was. Even if it was only the littlest bit, it was enough. His perfectly serene face had quite a bit of trouble keeping steady as inwardly he rejoiced. This was practically nothing, about as much as the crumbs on the plate between them, but it was something, and a far shot more than he had gotten for years.
But no. The time to examine this minute thing over and over until it was well worn would come later. It was Shen Yuan in front of him right now, not Xiao Jiu, and he wouldn't do him the disservice of forgetting.
"This shixiong knows some people on his Peak that he thinks Yuan-shidi might get along with," he said. "Some cooks, perhaps. Or this elder disciple who likes to spend most of her time in Qing Jing's library, it would be no trouble for her to see you often. Last I heard she was interested in cataloguing marine species."
"And..." Yue Qingyuan swallowed, focusing on the feel of the delicate porcelain teacup in his hands. "I'll be your friend, if shidi wishes," he couldn’t help but offer, because he already knew he was as weak to Shen Yuan as he was to Xiao Jiu. What they even remotely hinted they wanted, they would get, whether that be riches or resources or now, a friend.
"You would?" Shen Yuan looked at him with sparkling eyes, wiggling slightly back and forth in excitement. Yue Qingyuan felt any misgivings he had fall away.
"I would," he confirmed. Though he couldn’t help but add, "Though Qingqiu-shidi might not be the most enamoured with this idea."
"I don't mind," Shen Yuan immediately rejoined. "He doesn't have to know."
Yue Qingyuan felt his lips twitch into a more genuine smile. Oh dear, teenage rebellion? How far they had come from Shen Yuan's childish acceptance of all of Xiao Jiu's words.
“Though I don’t really know what friends do,” Shen Yuan confessed.
“Would you like to know a secret?” Yue Qingyuan asked. At Shen Yuan’s eager nod, he leaned forward and admitted, “Neither do I.”
He sat back and took another sip of his tea. “We can find out together,” he offered.
“I’d like that,” Shen Yuan beamed at him.
“Shen-shixiong,” the Peak Lord of Zhi Jue began. “If this one might bother you?”
“Yes…?”
“Ben-shimei,” Yue Qingyuan interrupted, “Is this something that can take place after the meeting?”
“Ben-shimei!” Shen Yuan repeated cheerfully. “If I can answer your question, I will.”
Ben Qingti's eyes flitted between the two, able to pick up on that something strange was going on, but not being able to grasp what exactly.
“Of course…” She said slowly. “This one supposes it could wait, but your assistance would be appreciated.”
“Shen Qingqiu’s expertise in unorthodox monsters is unmatched,” Yue Qingyuan said placidly.
“Ohh, monsters,” Shen Yuan said. “I do indeed know about those.”
“Right,” Ben Qingti dragged out the word. “This one will just be. Over there. Until later, Yue-shixiong, Shen-shixiong.”
As she hurried off to converse with the little group of Peak Lords that were occasionally sending not-very-conspicuous looks at Yue Qingyuan and Shen Yuan, Shen Yuan leaned into his side. “Do you think I pulled that off? I definitely pulled that off.”
“I am certain nobody knows the truth,” Yue Qingyuan allowed, even if it was only because the truth was so unbelievable. He had to prevent his customary smile from growing outside its acceptable parameters at the fervent whispering coming from the group.
The meeting started with barely a hitch, the Peak Lords each running through their customary report. Yue Qingyuan briefly worried when it was Shen Yuan’s turn, but it seemed like he shouldn’t have. Shen Yuan presented his account with not a single moment of lag, though he was a far shot more positive than Shen Qingqu would have been, going on and on about each of the disciples’ recent advancements and victories.
Yue Qingyuan had to gently startle him out of it without tipping off his martial siblings, which was, in his opinion, far better use of his countless hours of diplomatic training as a disciple than anything else he usually used it for.
As he and Shen Yuan hurried off after the meeting, finally escaping the grasps of his martial siblings’ intense questioning, Shen Yuan offered him tea back on Qing Jing. Shen Qingqiu still wouldn’t return from his three-day mission until tomorrow -- or so they thought.
The sight of Shen Qingqiu glowering at them from the open door of the bamboo house, foot tapping a constant beat and fan hurriedly flapping, was not enough to stifle his good mood.
“Don’t think I don’t know you weren’t tricked into this,” Shen Qingqiu hissed at Yue Qingyuan as he inspected Shen Yuan for any scrapes and bumps. “You are such a little shit, people just don’t notice because of your perfect fucking smile.”
“It was,” Yue Qingyuan admitted, “really funny.”
“I made a sketch of some of their expressions,” Shen Yuan piped up.
Shen Qingqiu paused where he was running his hand over Shen Yuan’s ribs. “You did, hm?”
“If you let Yue Qingyuan off the hook for this, I’ll even throw in an impersonation of Liu Qingge,” Shen Yuan wheedled.
“He broke three brushes,” Yue Qingyuan commented to the air. “I asked him to visit Mu Qingfang for an examination for anything that might interfere with strength regulation.”
Shen Qingqiu stared at them with flinty eyes, before he threw his hands in the air and turned around. “You two are such bastards,” he called behind him as he set off to make tea.
Shen Yuan and Yue Qingyuan met eyes, then burst into laughter. Yue Qingyuan’s chest had never felt lighter as he followed the Shens inside.
Yue Qingyuan came in to see Shen Yuan dunking white robes in a tub of water, then holding them up to the light. As he watched from the doorway, Shen Yuan sighed, and carelessly dropped the robes on a high pile of soaking wet robes.
He picked up another robe from a significantly smaller pile, drowned it, examined it in front of the light, and discarded it for an unknown reason. The cycle repeated for another four robes until Shen Yuan finally identified a robe that met his strange standards, placing it to the side with a happy hum.
But no, those poor robes were not yet released from their watery torment, as once more Shen Yuan started holding them underwater like they held the key to infinite riches in their mind and were not at all agreeable to sharing it.
Yue Qingyuan silently retreated before Shen Yuan spotted him.
Some things were better left unquestioned.
Shen Yuan knocked twice on the doorframe. “Are you busy?”
Yue Qingyuan looked up from his paperwork, putting his brush to the side. “Not at all, did something happen?”
Shen Yuan waved a hand. “No, don’t put that away. I was wondering if I could work here?”
“Of course,” Yue Qingyuan said at once. “Feel free to sit anywhere. Nobody should be coming by soon.”
Shen Yuan made his way to the low table in the corner of Yue Qingyuan’s office, settling down and pulling out a pair of his robes. He examined them with a mild frown of concentration, turning them over in his hands. When he found what he had been searching for, he got out a strange hook-like tool, a needle and some thread.
Yue Qingyuan watched curiously. “Are you reinforcing the seams?”
“Something like that,” Shen Yuan smiled, seeming rather pleased with himself.
When he didn’t elaborate further, Yue Qingyuan picked up his brush again. For the longest time, the office was silent, save for the rustle of cloth and paper, the grinding of ink and soft exhales of breath.
The paperwork was a lot easier to go through when he could look up and be met with the sight of a studiously sewing Shen Yuan. At some point, Shen Yuan’s work was finished, but he only took that as a sign to lean backwards unto the cushions, eyes closed. Out of the corner of Yue Qingyuan’s eyes, he could see him fidgeting.
Shen Yuan cleared his throat.
“Yes?” Yue Qingyuan said distractedly.
“You are Qi-ge, are you not?”
Yue Qingyuan froze. He slowly looked up to meet Shen Yuan’s large, non-judgemental eyes, and nodded jerkily.
“Then why did Jiu-ge say Qi-ge disappeared?”
And Yue Qingyuan’s throat closed up, the answer stuck behind his teeth, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t open his mouth. It was a simple question, it wasn’t hard, this wasn’t Xiao Jiu looking at him with an accusing expression, so why couldn’t he speak --
“Shh,” Shen Yuan hushed. “It’s alright. I don’t have to know.”
He reached out, and Yue Qingyuan had never felt clumsier than when a soft uncalloused hand gently folded itself around his own.
“I want to,” he rasped out. “I want to tell you, I promise, I don’t understand why I can’t --”
“Don’t force it,” Shen Yuan said as he moved to sit closer, pressing the side of his body against Yue Qingyuan’s own. He was blessedly warm, a steady presence at his side as Yue Qingyuan forcibly pulled himself together with all the skill he had built up over his time as Sect Leader.
“You don’t need to tell me, though of course I would appreciate it,” Shen Yuan said in a low voice. “I understand.”
“You’re good at this,” Yue Qingyuan murmured when he felt like he could breathe again.
“It’s one of the first things I actually took interest in,” Shen Yuan said softly. “I looked at Jiu-ge, and he was so much like me except for the points where he wasn’t, and I remember thinking, ‘Why?’ It was the first time I questioned the world around me, and I suppose I went a little overboard.”
Yue Qingyuan laughed wryly. “And I thank you for it.”
He looked down at where their hands were still folded together. He could almost be fooled into thinking that hand belonged to Xiao Jiu, if he ignored the lack of patches of rough skin where his brush rested, if he didn’t look at the unmarred skin between the first and second knuckle where Shen Qingqiu had a thin white scar from an accident with a sword.
He didn’t want to be fooled.
He wanted to be here with Shen Yuan, at this moment, uncomfortable though it may be. It was that thought that gave him the power to take a breath and order his thoughts into words.
“I am. Qi-ge, I mean,” he said. “Though you wouldn’t hear Qingqiu-shidi grant me that name.”
“Ah,” Shen Yuan said, like that explained anything. Maybe it did to him, Yue Qingyuan wasn’t sure what he did or did not know.
They were silent together, Yue Qingyuan taking the moment to just breathe and take delight in the solid body sitting next to him.
“Is everyone this messed up?” Shen Yuan finally burst out, startling Yue Qingyuan into a laugh.
“No, don’t laugh!” Shen Yuan whined, though a smile was playing on his lips as well. He pulled his hand from Yue Qingyuan’s to gently slap him on the chest. Yue Qingyuan instantly regretted the loss of his touch. “Seriously, am I the exception in this world or are you two just singularly messed up?”
“The latter, I’m afraid,” Yue Qingyuan said mournfully. “Most people have at least some issues, but Xiao Jiu and I are… particularly maladjusted.” In wildly different ways, true, but still.
“That’s good,” Shen Yuan said. “I mean, oh no, that actually sucks, but also, I don’t think I could deal if everyone were like that.”
To hear him say it so bluntly, in such plain language… Yue Qingyuan felt he had to agree.
“Yue Qingyuan,” Shen Yuan threw the door open. “In a completely hypothetical love letter, would making it rhyme make the depth of my emotions clearer, or would it take away from the rawness of my heart?”
Yue Qingyuan cleared his throat. “And that would be Shen-shidi,” he offered to the visiting dignitaries from Tian Yi Overlook.
“Oh,” Shen Yuan blinked and made a small wave. “Hey there.”
He then totally ignored the dignitaries to continue with not a hint of shame, “It’s important to not only show I do in fact desire him carnally, but to emphasise it is not the reason behind my care -- theoretically, of course. Gotta strike that balance, you know?”
Yue Qingyuan did not know and would have loved for his life to continue that way.
“How about you incorporate metaphors? To expand on an already existing and widely understood concept, to ensure this imaginary person understands your intentions properly,” Yue Qingyuan proposed after some careful thought.
“Right, thanks,” Shen Yuan chirped, “Have a nice day!” And off he went with not a single goodbye to the visitors.
Yue Qingyuan turned to the dignitaries, exuding an air of ‘I will not acknowledge this interruption, and neither should you.’ “So, you were saying about the silk trade…?”
Yue Qingyuan knocked on the door, the morning sky only just beginning to brighten up.
As the door opened, he at once started speaking, “This one apologises about coming by this early, but I’m afraid it simply --”
He blinked twice. “... can’t wait,” he said, voice trailing off.
Shen Yuan blinked up at him as he pulled his loose robes a little tighter around himself. They covered truly far too little, exposing darkening marks on his neck. He would worry about those far more if they weren’t combined with kiss-bruised lips, eyes half-lidded in satisfaction, and hair messed up by… vigorous activity.
“It worked,” Shen Yuan said needlessly, a smile on his lips like the cat that got the cream.
“I can see that,” Yue Qingyuan said blankly, not sure where to rest his eyes.
He cleared his throat. “Congratulations?”
“A-Yuan,” a low voice called from deeper within the house. “Come back to bed.”
I’ll just --” Yue Qingyuan pointed halfheartedly to the side. “I’m going to. Go.” On second thought, the emergency could wait. And so could anything else he might have to go see the Shens for in the next few weeks, for that matter. Let those two get it out of their system for a bit.
“Right,” Shen Yuan said, thoroughly distracted, his body already half-turned to go back inside. “I’ll see you?”
“Hmhm,” Yue Qingyuan said, and with those eloquent words he fled back to his own peak.
He shuddered. There were some things a man did not want to know about his younger brothers, and this was one of them.
A week and a half later a Qing Jing disciple brought over a basket filled with delicious foods and flowers plucked from the bamboo house’s gardens. Nestled in between the orchids, Yue Qingyuan found a thin card.
In delicate calligraphy was written, “Thank you for the advice!” Below it, in an identical hand but differently coloured ink, “You’ve been a horrible influence on Shen Yuan, just as I thought you’d be. I suppose I ought to thank you for it.”
Yue Qingyuan smiled, the movement coming without the heavy weight that had accompanied it for so long, and tucked the card into his robes.