Work Text:
The heavy bamboo curtains of Qing Jing Peak’s secluded side pavilion were tightly drawn, creating a makeshift fortress of privacy that not even a stray spiritual butterfly could breach. Outside, the bamboo rustled in a picturesque, immortal-realm breeze. Inside, the vibe was purely that of a 21st-century dumpster fire.
Shang Qinghua sat slumped in a miserable heap of silk robes. He looked less like the An Ding Peak Lord and more like a burnt-out college student puller an all-nighter during finals week. Across from him, Shen Qingqiu paced the polished floorboards, aggressively waving his elegant fan like a man trying to cool down a nuclear reactor.
"I miss air conditioning," Shang Qinghua groaned. He face-planted onto the low wooden table, his forehead hitting the timber with a dull thud. "I miss high-speed fiber-optic internet. I miss instant ramen with the little freeze-dried corn kernels, Peerless Cucumber. If I have to eat one more piece of meticulously prepared, spiritual-energy-infused lotus root soup, I’m going to throw myself off the Rainbow Bridge."
"Shut up, Airplane," Shen Qingqiu snapped.
Though his voice was cool, his internal monologue was screaming in violent, passionate agreement.
"You think you have it rough? At least your Peak doesn't require you to maintain the posture of a pristine, untouchable immortal deity twenty-four-seven. My back hurts, Shang Qinghua. My literal soul hurts. I would trade my entire master-level sword cultivation right now for a single ice-cold can of Coca-Cola and a smartphone. Do you know what I’d give to listen to an aggressive Hatsune Miku vocaloid track right now? Just some classic, high-tempo digital noise to drown out the sound of my own existential dread."
"At least your disciples treat you like a god," Shang Qinghua mumbled into the wood, his voice muffled. "Mine treat me like a glorified Excel spreadsheet. 'Peak Lord Shàng, we are out of spiritual charcoal.' 'Peak Lord Shàng, Bai Zhan Peak broke another training ground.' I am a logistics calculator to them!"
Shen Qingqiu abruptly stopped pacing. He snapped his fan shut with a sharp clack, pointing the jade tip directly at Shang Qinghua’s forehead. The elegant, aloof facade of the Xiu Ya sword completely melted away, replaced by the sheer, unadulterated rage of a VIP web-novel reviewer who had been pushed too far.
"Oh, you want to talk about having it rough?" Shen Qingqiu lowered his voice to a harsh, furious hiss. "Let’s talk about your writing, Airplane Shooting Toward the Sky. Let’s talk about your absolute lack of basic human anatomy knowledge! Let’s talk about your spatial awareness!"
Shang Qinghua blinked, lifting his head. "What? My world-building is great! The flora, the fauna—"
"I am not talking about the magical plants, you absolute hack!" Shen Qingqiu slammed his hands onto the table, leaning in so close Shang Qinghua could see the vein throbbing violently in his temple. "I am talking about Luo Binghe! I am talking about your trashy stallion-novel protagonist tropes! Why on earth did you make his Heavenly Pillar so ungodly, astronomically, biologically impossible?!"
Shang Qinghua scrambled backward, his eyes widening to the size of tea saucers. "Bro! Bro, lower your voice! What if the protagonist hears you?!"
"Let him hear me!" Shen Qingqiu yelled, entirely unhinged now, abandoning all pretense of OOC restrictions. "Do you have any idea what I have to deal with?! It is not a pillar, Shang Qinghua! It is a weapon of mass destruction! It belongs in a sci-fi blockbuster, not a human body! Why did you write it like that?! What kind of dimensional pocket engineering did you use when you typed those chapters?!"
"It was a male power fantasy web novel!" Shang Qinghua squeaked, holding his hands up defensively to shield himself from the fan-wielding immortal. "The readers demanded it! The comment section on Proud Immortal Demon Way was ruthless! In the original text, he had a harem of over six hundred wives! A stallion protagonist needs a weapon that matches his status! It’s standard genre shorthand! Big numbers mean big popularity!"
"Standard genre shorthand does not bypass the literal laws of physics!" Shen Qingqiu’s voice cracked with genuine, deep-seated distress. "Even Binghe struggles with it! Do you know how horrifying it is to look at your extremely powerful, terrifying half-demon disciple and see him looking nervous? He literally looks at me sometimes like he’s trying to figure out how to park a double-decker bus into a one-car garage! He is intimidated by his own anatomy! He looks at himself, looks at me, and looks like he wants to apologize to my ancestors!"
"Wait, really?" Shang Qinghua blinked. A look of pure, inappropriate authorial curiosity crossed his face, replacing his fear. "Bingmei actually struggles with it? I thought the Heavenly Demon bloodline would just... make everything seamless. Like a magical, self-lubricating, perfectly adaptive system."
"Seamless?! My internal organs are being rearranged like a high-stakes game of Tetris!" Shen Qingqiu threw his hands up in the air, his fan flying dangerously close to a priceless vase. "He has zero technique, Shang Qinghua! Because you didn't write any! He just cries, apologizes, begs for forgiveness, and then acts like a biological bulldozer! I am a peak cultivator! I have a golden core! My body can withstand literal lightning strikes during ascension, and yet I am routinely brought to the brink of meeting the King of Hell just because my husband wants to show affection!"
Shang Qinghua rubbed the back of his neck, looking deeply apologetic but also slightly amused. "I mean... my bad? I didn't think I’d actually have to live in the world I built, let alone look my protagonist's shizun in the eye after he experienced it. Look on the bright side, your spiritual meridians are probably incredibly clear?"
"I will clear your meridians with my bare hands," Shen Qingqiu hissed, sinking down onto a floor cushion. He rubbed his temples, looking completely drained. "If I ever find a way to hack your System, I am writing an emergency patch. A hotfix. A balancing update to scale him down by at least fifty percent. It's a matter of basic human survival."
Before Shang Qinghua could offer another terrible piece of authorial advice, the heavy wooden doors of the pavilion creaked open.
The temperature in the room instantly dropped by ten degrees. Standing in the doorway was Luo Binghe. He was holding a beautifully lacquered tray with a steaming bowl of fresh congee and a plate of delicate, intricately shaped pastries. His dark eyes scanned the room, instantly locking onto Shen Qingqiu. In a fraction of a second, the intimidating, dark aura of the Demon Lord melted away into a soft, puppy-like devotion.
"Shizun," Luo Binghe said, his voice incredibly sweet, almost dripping with honey. "This disciple brought some refreshments. I noticed Shizun seemed tired after last night... I made sure to use extra soothing medicinal herbs in the tea. To help with the... soreness."
Shang Qinghua looked at Luo Binghe, then looked at Shen Qingqiu, and choked violently on his own saliva.
Shen Qingqiu’s face instantly snapped back into a mask of perfect, elegant, Peak Lord serenity. He picked up his fan with practiced ease, fluttering it gracefully in front of his face to hide the faint blush on his cheeks. "Binghe is very thoughtful. Leave the tray on the side."
"Yes, Shizun," Luo Binghe smiled, stepping into the room with absolute grace. But as he walked past Shang Qinghua, his eyes narrowed into a terrifying, icy glare that clearly said, 'If you stress my Shizun out with your administrative nonsense, I will peel your skin off.'
Shang Qinghua immediately stood up, bowing frantically, his knees practically knocking together. "Ah! Look at the time! An Ding Peak has... a lot of inventory to check! Yes! Cucum—uh, Shen-shixiong, I will take my leave! Enjoy the congee!"
Shang Qinghua bolted out the door like his robes were on fire, leaving Shen Qingqiu alone to face the terrifyingly attentive, hopelessly devoted, and catastrophically well-endowed protagonist of Proud Immortal Demon Way.
Luo Binghe set the tray down, kneeling gracefully by Shen Qingqiu's side. He placed a gentle hand on his master's knee, looking up with big, wide eyes. "Shizun... did Shang-shishu anger you? This disciple heard shouting before entering."
Shen Qingqiu sighed internally, letting his fan drop slightly. He looked at the beautiful, terrifying creature beside him and decided that, despite the anatomical design flaws, he would just have to survive. "No, Binghe. We were merely discussing... architectural limitations."
Luo Binghe tilted his head, perfectly confused, but happily leaned into his Shizun's touch anyway.