Chapter Text
Shen Qingqiu trod through the Qing Jing library on silent feet. Not a rustle of cloth sounded to announce his presence -- anyone who might have seen him, could very well have thought him a ghost.
And so might he have, for that matter.
This life of his, he walked through it in silence, with not a single person to share his joys or sorrows with. After all, who could he trust with those? The ladies down the mountain, who only put up with him because he paid them? Yue Qingyuan, who would ask him twenty questions in quick succession, but would never give him a single answer? The people on his Peak, who resented him, and would take any sign of his weakness as a sign this was the perfect moment to take his position away from him?
No, there was no companionship for him in this life.
Shen Qingqiu had always been a lonely person, but… Shen Jiu hadn’t been. Shen Jiu had trusted someone. He had had a person that stood at his side. And though you couldn’t miss something you never had, no matter how much he tried to deny it, once upon a time Shen Qingqiu had been Shen Jiu.
And so his treacherous mind wanted. It wanted someone he could rest next to after a tiresome day, it wanted a presence that stood next to him rather than opposite, and above all, it wanted someone who would smile when they saw him approaching.
He didn’t deserve it, this wretched person that he was, but neither did he deserve any other positive thing. He had stolen his position as Peak Lord out of the hands of older, more experienced disciples, and never once let something like what he did or did not deserve stop him.
Qing Jing's libraries were vast and expansive, and sometimes it felt as if books just appeared out of nowhere. The perfect study guide when he was despairing over ever catching up, the records of Peak Lords past when he was terrified about living up to past holders of the title, and now, a way for Shen Qingqiu to do exactly what needs to be done.
The library had never failed him before, and as Shen Qingqiu came to a halt in front of a thick dusty scroll touched by the moonlight streaming in from the large windows above him, he knew that today would not be the exception.
He didn't breathe as he held the knife steady in front of his chest, carefully measuring out the perfect place to --
The knife sunk into his body with a wet sound, muscles tearing as he carved out a piece of flesh. He bit down on the leather he had placed between his teeth to avoid splintering them irreparably, clenching down as hard as he could to avoid crying out.
He pulled the knife out, the cut-out meat falling to the ground with it. With one hand he scrambled to pick it up before it got dirty, as he pressed a thick cloth to the wound with his other. The fabric got saturated within moments, and he switched it out for a new piece with a curse.
He dumped the flesh into the circle and grabbed some of the heavy-duty medicine he had prepared for himself. He pulled the cloth away for only just long enough to wipe the medicine on the wound, but even as he hurried to cover the wound again, enough blood had seeped out in the meanwhile to thoroughly ruin any hope he had of cleaning these robes.
Under his watchful eyes, the flesh started to float and expand, forming an identical body to his own down to the smallest details.
Except no, not a perfect copy, he noted. Those hands were soft and delicate, not a hint of calluses present. Those nails were pink little seashells, untouched by daily life. And there, on his bare chest sat not even a shadow of Shen Qingqiu's scars, a flawlessly pale expanse of skin.
That same chest did not move, as no breath sat in it. The body was practically a corpse, empty and unused. Not for long, though.
After the flesh, the memories.
Shen Qingqiu closed his eyes and focused. If he gave the new soul nothing, then he'd know nothing either. In some ways this could be a blessing, but there was a limit. He was not eager to teach the other how to talk, walk or eat, so his memories would have to involve at least a little of that.
Other people... He wished he could give the other a life free of the burden of connections, of tethers to anyone but Shen Jiu, but he couldn’t. He'd have to learn how a conversation flowed one way or another. Thus, only the people that he could talk with without harshness, without sharp edges. The ladies down the mountain. A kind woman who had offered him food once. A shijie who had taken his hand and guided it into the proper form for swordplay.
The memories welled up, solidifying inside his mind until it felt like he could practically hold them. He opened his eyes again, and saw nothing but white as they spilled out of him through his eyes, thick and hot and heavy.
They dribbled down his face, along his nose, down to his chin. He knew if he opened his mouth he could eat them once again, take them back into himself, keep that warmth to himself instead of giving it to another, but his mouth stayed stubbornly closed.
Shen Qingqiu held his hands cupped under his face, gathering the memories into a small pool of white-glowing opaque liquid. He blinked the final drop out of his eyes, a sense memory of the softness of his blankets here on Qing Jing, and stared down at the memories in curiosity.
It was so little.
If his life had been happier, would there have been more? Could his memories have spilled over, unable to be contained in their rich abundance?
Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Shen Qingqiu carefully, ever so careful, brought the memories over to the empty body, and emptied his hands above its heart.
The bare skin pulled the memories into itself, absorbing it like a cloth might do to spilled water, leaving not even a single drop behind.
Shen Qingqiu gave a shaky exhale. So far so good.
And thirdly, the final ingredient.
Was it his hand that lacked substance, or his chest? Either way, when he reached inwards, his hand passed through the still bleeding flesh to the heart inside, gripping it tight and pulling.
His hand quivered when it withdrew from the heat of his chest, taking with it something brilliant, pulsing softly. Was that really his soul? It was too bright, too beautiful to belong to a stained man like him, he thought. There were no cracks, no lingering oily influence from his dirty youth, from his careless cruelty. It looked like it should belong to someone like Yue Qingyuan, not him.
Uncertain but determined, he brought it up to his mouth, hesitating for only half a moment before he clamped his jaws down around the soul. He bit down harshly, feeling it tear between his teeth.
He withdrew when his teeth touched each other, placing the bulk of his soul back into his chest like an afterthought. The other bit, the small, torn-off piece of soul, still determinedly glowing bright no matter how vastly diminished in size, he gently pulled from between his teeth.
It joined the gifted memories inside the creature’s chest.
Three ingredients. Flesh, memories and soul. Could this really be enough to form a person? It had to be.
Nothing happened.
Time went by.
He couldn’t tell you how much.
Too long.
The body did not breathe --
-- until it did.
Under Shen Qingqiu’s anxious gaze, it opened its mouth, taking in its first stuttering breath of air, then one more, and another, until the rhythm grew steady and constant. Its eyelids fluttered, then opened, revealing an identical green to Shen Qingqiu’s own.
"Hello," Shen Qingqiu whispered.
The creature blinked at him with curious eyes. "Hello," it said.
"I'm Shen Jiu," Shen Qingqiu said, mouth dry. "You will call me Jiu-ge."
The creature tilted its head. "Oh, I know that part. But who am I?"
"Your name is --"
Shen Yuan came into being knowing very little, but loving every part of it.
Shen Yuan settled into his life like he had always been there.
Shen Qingqiu took care of him, dressing him in Shen Qingqiu’s own robes, hair unbound. He fed him from his own plate, with his own hands. He slept next to him, in his own bed, his presence utterly safe to Shen Qingqiu -- after all, by the very nature of his existence, he could not be stronger than Shen Qingqiu.
What was Shen Qingqiu’s, was Shen Yuan’s.
And it was good. It alleviated any anxiety Shen Qingqiu might have over Shen Yuan deciding to leave him -- though he knew he never would, as any creature born of Shen Qingqiu’s soul could not conceive of something like ‘letting go.’ But to have Shen Yuan painted in Shen Qingqiu’s care reinforced that message to the world at large, for all that the world was not even aware of Shen Yuan’s existence.
Living in each other’s space twenty four seven, made some things rather apparent. Though outwardly he seemed as old as Shen Jiu was, Shen Yuan seemed to be a newborn in all the ways that mattered.
"Ouch!"
Shen Qingqiu whirled around and was met with the sight of Shen Yuan sucking on his fingers with a pained expression.
"A-Yuan!" Shen Qingqiu stalked forward and pulled his fingers out of his mouth, examining them briefly before running a hand with cooling Qi over them.
"I didn't know fire was hot," Shen Yuan pouted. "It always seemed so nice in your memories! All warm and stuff.”
"And stuff? So articulate," Shen Qingqiu teased to distract himself from the sudden anxiety. This was just fire, something A-Yuan figured out was bad after only experiencing it for a moment. What if it took him longer for the next threat? What if he didn't know he was drowning until he was swimming too deep to reach the surface again, or if he couldn't figure out how to ease hunger until he was starving?
His heart suddenly lodged into his throat. What if he didn't know the danger of men until he followed them home like the naive little lamb he was? What if they just took him from the street, A-Yuan not understanding their violent tendencies, or worse, their lust --
"Jiu-ge? Are you alright?" Shen Yuan blinked up at him, soft and worried and so, so innocent, and fuck, what could he even do, he couldn’t hurt A-Yuan to show him the dangers of the outside world, the mere thought killing him inside --
"-- shhh," a voice soothed him. "It's alright, everything’s alright, just breathe, please breathe."
Shen Qingqiu sucked in a deep breath, coughing as he choked on his own air. Soft hands ran over his back as he came back to himself.
"You're here again?" Shen Yuan asked with large, frightened eyes.
Shen Qingqiu nodded mutely.
Shen Yuan fell forward into his chest with a cry, his body doing it's very best to curl into Shen Qingqiu's own. "What on earth was that? Are you dying?"
Shen Qingqiu cleared his throat. "How do you even know what death is?" he asked with a hoarse voice.
Shen Yuan sniffed. "I'm not stupid, you know. If you thought it was important for me to understand we're Immortals, then that means it's probably not a given, right?"
He hid his face in Shen Qingqiu's shoulders, fingers clutching his robes within a tight grip. In reflex, Shen Qingqiu's hands came up to curl around him, stroking his back in an unintentional mirror of their earlier position.
"Don't do that to me again," Shen Yuan whined. "I didn't like it."
And that was what this was all about, no? That Shen Yuan felt like he could ask that of him, that he could simply demand something he didn't enjoy should stop, and that he could be certain it would. It wasn't even a thought in his mind that someone would deliberately do something he had stated he disliked.
That trust, in him and in the world at large... Shen Qingqiu knew he should kill it before someone else could, when he was still here to pick up the pieces for A-Yuan -- but he couldn’t. He simply couldn't bring himself to.
"Hey, is that what happened to Qi-ge? And San-jie? Did they die?" Shen Yuan asked, voice still muffled in his robes.
San-jie was sold off to a pervert when she was twelve and never seen again. Qi-ge was... Look, it was very understandable why he didn't include those parts of his memories of them, alright?
"They disappeared. Sometimes people do that. They just leave, and you'll never know why, and you just have to be fine with that."
"And will you?" Shen Yuan looked at him with large, guileless eyes.
"No," Shen Jiu said, and he had never been more sure about anything. "You couldn't get rid of me even if you begged me to."
"That's good," Shen Yuan sighed into his chest. "That's good..."
"Shizun!" Ming Fan called, as he knocked on the door.
Shen Qingqiu opened it with a sour expression, not pleased to be pulled from his meal with A-Yuan. He was even less pleased when he was met with the sight of that little beast, Ming Fan's hand bruisingly tight around his upper arm.
"What is it this time," Shen Qingqiu said wearily. For the whole half year since that child joined his peak, at least once a week he'd stir up trouble, none of the punishments working so far. He didn’t particularly enjoy getting physical, but it looked like he might have to start resorting to it more if nothing else had an effect on that brat.
"Luo Binghe broke a vase while cleaning, Shizun," Ming Fan declared. "The nice one, in the library entrance."
That ugly thing? My, obviously Ming Fan should be assigned more work if he thought that thing could ever be described as 'nice.'
Shen Qingqiu levelled the little beast with a steely gaze. That the vase had been... to call it distasteful would be a compliment, but it was still something that belonged to Shen Qingqiu. It was his vase, by right of Shen Qingqiu’s position. The boy did not have the right to even touch it, no matter how much Shen Qingqiu did or did not like it.
"Now, now," Shen Qingqiu said silkily. "That is what, the seventh time you broke something precious?" He tapped his lips with the guard of his fan. "Let me think, if I can not punish you with cleaning without you inevitably mucking up even more, then the only option would be --"
"Jiu-ge? Who's this?" A voice floated over.
Shen Qingqiu froze. "It's nothing," he called. "Just wait there, I'll be done soon --"
"Oh!" Shen Yuan said, as he blatantly ignored his words. "Hello there." He waved brightly at the two children, each looking absolutely dumbstruck in their own way.
"Shizun... has a brother?" Ming Fan mumbled.
It could easily be understood why Ming Fan came to that conclusion, wrong though it might be. Not only their identical complexion, but how Shen Qingqiu took care to dress Shen Yuan in the mornings, in his own robes, carefully picked out to fit A-Yuan best. How he was the one to brush and tie up Shen Yuan's hair, memories of how to do it himself not included in the ritual, and Shen Qingqiu not willing to teach him if that would mean losing this intimate moment.
Did all that make him his brother? No. Brothers could leave. Shen Yuan was so much more than just that -- he was everything. He was plainly his, nothing more and nothing less than that.
Shen Yuan made a so-so motion. "Sorta? I'm also him, in a way, and --"
"A-Yuan," Shen Qingqiu cut in. "Why don't you go back to pick out sweets for after dinner, yes?"
Shen Yuan seemed to consider this for a moment, but ultimately shook his head. "I haven't met these people yet! I want to say hi first."
You have barely met anyone, Shen Qingqiu thought. And he would have been very happy if he kept it that way forever, if he never had to share A-Yuan with the outside world. What if he decided he liked it better than this hateful, bitter man?
"They were just leaving," Shen Qingqiu said tightly. "You, little beast, go copy three different cultivation manuals from the library. This includes diagrams. If your calligraphy is not up to my standards, you will start all over again. Now." Even he couldn’t fuck that up very bad, couldn’t he? And there was no way Shen Qingqiu would be able to get away from A-Yuan for his original plans.
Shen Yuan tugged at his sleeves. "Ohh, can't I go with him, please? I've haven't seen a library yet!"
Shen Qingqiu sighed. "If you really want to meet new people, I'll take you to meet the ladies down the mountain." They'd love him from the second he introduced him to them for sure.
Ming Fan awkwardly cleared his throat. "Shizun? Am I supposed to --"
"Dismissed," Shen Qingqiu said briskly. He turned around and pulled the door closed. A-Yuan blinked at him, mildly puzzled but easily accepting of his strange behaviour. He still didn't know much, how could he know this was not the norm?
"The dishes should still be warm," he said as he took Shen Yuan by the hand to lead him back to their dinner. "And if it's books you desire, make a list and I can get a disciple to gather them for you."
Shen Yuan laughed brightly, carelessly. "How would I know the books to list them?" he asked.
Ah. Shen Qingqiu waved his hand. "I'll just tell them to get a little of everything."
"I didn't like that one," Shen Yuan said, poking the book with a fan.
"Why not?"
Shen Yuan glanced at him. "Does that matter?" he asked curiously.
"Of course it does," Shen Qingqiu sniffed. "How else will you get to know your own tastes, or be able to engage in proper conversation about it? We're no peasants, just throwing opinions around without base nor care."
Shen Yuan looked at the book with consideration. "I didn't like... the characters?"
"Good," Shen Qingqiu intoned. "Now, why did you not like them?"
"Because... they were plain?"
At Shen Qingqiu's raised eyebrow, Shen Yuan continued, "They did have some personality, I think, but halfway through the author stopped with it." He frowned, concentrating wholly on this thought exercise. It looked rather adorable on him.
"I did not like the story," Shen Yuan then declared in a slow voice, "Because the author abandoned the character's personalities in order to further the plot, and because he manoeuvred them where they needed to be without considering how they would actually arrive there."
He looked at Shen Qingqiu with a proud smile on his face. "That was it, yeah? I did it right?"
And it had never been as easy for Shen Jiu to offer praise.
You'd think this would have turned Shen Yuan off romance novels, but no. The very opposite happened. He zeroed in on them like they were the only thing worth reading, begging the disciple’s in charge of supplying him with a regular load of books of just one more, the worst one you’ve ever read, pretty please?
Shen Qingqiu would be a lot more put out by his A-Yuan’s interest in trashy romance novels if they didn’t so obviously help him. With every judgemental word, every carefully constructed opinion, Shen Yuan grew into more of a proper person. The first time Shen Yuan went on a long rant, exposing a vicious tongue hidden beneath his sweetness, Shen Qinqgiu was as startled as he was pleased.
Because this was Shen Yuan.
This was him becoming more than just a strange creature a desperate man had constructed one lonely night, it was him becoming a fully-formed person, with opinions about everything, with reasons and morals and everything.
Though it did give him some strange ideas about life.
“What are you doing,” Shen Qingqiu said flatly.
Shen Yuan stared at him, intently, as he chewed on the stem of a flower. Some of the petals were poking out the side of his mouth. Under Shen Qingqiu’s piercing eyes, Shen Yuan stretched his arms above his head, robes falling open to reveal a sliver of skin.
Shen Qingqiu tutted as he kneeled in front of Shen Yuan, pulling his robes closed. “Watch out, you’ll get a cold,” he reprimanded him. The windows were opened to reveal the full moon standing in the glittering night sky, letting in some of the cold breeze. Why Shen Yuan wasn’t asleep yet, Shen Qingqiu didn’t know.
“Just because I’m a little late doesn’t mean you should just skip sleeping entirely,” he scolded Shen Yuan.
“Bu’ is so ohne’y--,” Shen Yuan mumbled around the flower. “‘ait ah se’ond--” He spit a single petal out, handing it to Shen Qingqiu with a meaningful gaze as he chewed and swallowed the rest.
“But it’s so lonely without you there,” Shen Yuan said when his mouth was empty.
“Tough shit,” Shen Qingqiu said crudely. “I’m waking you up at dawn tomorrow.”
“Jiu-ge,” Shen Yuan whined, staring at him with great, big, pleading eyes.
Shen Qingqiu did not budge. “You go on ahead,” he said, and waited until Shen Yuan had walked to their shared bed to stare consideringly at the petal in his hand. It was rumpled and gleaming slightly, wet from A-Yuan’s spit. He tentatively put it in his mouth, bracing himself for anything strange.
Hm.
Just a flower.
He shook his head and stood up to follow.
“Jiu-ge,” Shen Yuan said.
Shen Qingqiu did not look up.
“Jiu-ge,” Shen Yuan said again, poking him in the side. “Pay attention to me.”
Shen Qingqiu deliberately refused to acknowledge Shen Yuan, though the corner of his lips turned up.
“C’mon, I swear it’s more important than --” Shen Yuan glanced at the scroll in front of him, “-- An Ding’s third replica of our monthly finances.”
Shen Qingqiu tapped his lips with the handle of his brush. “I suppose they do already have a copy of this one,” he said, pretend-reluctant. “What can I help you with?”
“I have a letter for you,” Shen Yuan said as he slid a folded over piece of paper to him.
“So you just want me to read more?” Shen Qingqiu raised an eyebrow.
“Oh, just read it,” Shen Yuan scowled charmingly.
Dear Jiu-ge, the letter read.
Your hair is as dark as black
And your lips really are very pretty
Which I suppose is sorta narcissistic to say
You are as sweet as the purple berries down the mountain
That is, not at all
But I like them nonetheless a lot
And I want to taste them every day
Which is also a lot like you by the way
(That is a reference to kissing
In case I wasn’t blunt enough)
“Is this love poetry? Shen Yuan, what the --”
“Keep reading.”
You are to me like Ming Wen is to Shi Ying in Twelve Summer Days of Lizard Love
Except without all the awkward fan service
And totally ignoring that scene on page one hundred twelve
So maybe not at all actually
I really do like you though
And I really would rather like it
If you bend me over like in that book you were furious a disciple gave me
Shen Qingqiu looked up at Shen Yuan, who was wiggling his eyebrows at him.
I don’t know I think it might be nice
To kiss you goodnight sometimes
I’m hoping you might like it too
(or maybe you don’t
In which case disregard this entirely)
Seriously though please think about it
Much love,
Shen Yuan
“Are you trying to seduce me?” Shen Qingqiu said incredulously.
“What -- yes!” Shen Yuan sputtered. “Thank you for finally noticing!”
Then Shen Yuan forcibly composed himself, letting his eyelids fall half-closed. “I mean, is it working?” He said in a low, purring voice. Shen Qingqiu was one hundred percent certain that he knew which of the brothel ladies had taught him that tone. He knew he shouldn’t have left Shen Yuan alone with Meng-jiejie -- no doubt she was laughing at their antics behind her fan, that wretched woman.
“Stop that,” Shen Qingqiu absently said as he tapped him with his fan, deep in thought as he was.
“Wait.” He squinted at Shen Yuan. “This is not the first time you’ve tried this, no?”
“What gave it away?” Shen Yuan said wryly. “Was it that time I accidentally fell into the pond while wearing only two white layers? How my robes’ seams kept ripping open? That time I kept dropping my brushes and having to bend over to pick them up?”
“Going by your awful novels, that last one probably would have worked better if you didn’t keep positioning yourself to face me.”
“Ah,” Shen Yuan muttered. “I knew I forgot something.”
Shen Qingqiu looked intently as Shen Yuan. “And are you sure about this? This is not because you assume this is something you have to do?”
“No!” Shen Yuan squawked. “I mean, sure, there’s probably an element of ‘Who else could it be?’, but at the same time, even if there were other people, I’d still choose you.”
Oh. He chose --
It was like he was watching himself from far away as he placed a hand on A-Yuan’s cheek, his throat swallowing, mouth falling open slightly. His cheeks filled with blood, darkening under Shen Qingqiu’s severe gaze.
His lips were soft where they met his own.
Shen Yuan broke away with a soft gasp, strings of spit connecting their mouths.
“Never give me a letter like that again,” Shen Qingqiu said hoarsely. “Then we can work something out.”
Shen Yuan laughed, eyes falling closed as he leaned his forehead against Shen Qingqiu’s.
“It got your attention, didn’t it,” he teased.
“You’ve got it, now never again.”