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Liu Qingge doesn't trust Shen Qingqiu. He had never trusted him, even when they had been just disciples with very little power or influence to their name. But even though Liu Qingge doesn't trust Shen-shixiong, he knows the man well enough to know something is wrong.
His qi deviation, amnesia, fever or whatever that had triggered this massive personality change is suspicious. His shixiong is suspicious.
So naturally, for the sake of his sect, he keeps an eye on the man.
Which… may have been a bad decision.
-1-
The first time it happens is during a Peak Lord meeting a few weeks after the demon invasion. Shang Qinghua is giving a full account of the damage and providing an expense report. Liu Qingge doesn’t know why his presence is needed. He barely does his own Peak’s accounting, delegating matters to one of his smarter disciples. Why would he care about the entire sect’s finances?
Zhangmen-shixiong listens to the meek fool attentively but the other Peak Lords look just as bored out of their minds as he feels.
Almost subconsciously, his gaze drifts to the Qing Jing Peak Lord.
Shen Qingqiu seems unmoved; his pretty eyes are fixed on Shang Qinghua but there’s a glazed expression in them. He waves his fan lazily in front of his face, his posture relaxed and carelessly elegant.
He wonders if Shen Qingqiu realizes how much his body betrays him. Liu Qingge has never seen the man so at ease while sitting beside Zhangmen-shixiong. The Shen Qingqiu of the past would've been as stiff as a board, his eyes razor-sharp, and his lips thin with disapproval.
This one seems like he hasn't even noticed Zhangmen-shixiong's presence.
Shang Qinghua is just wrapping up his long report when Shen Qingqiu glances away and raises a fan a little higher. From where Liu Qingge is sitting, he can see the face hidden behind the fan clearly.
He can also see the undignified little yawn that follows.
It is… unguarded. Shen Qingqiu's teary eyes squeeze shut and his elegant nose crinkles - an expression far too adorable for such a face. Slender fingers tighten around the fan and green eyes blink open, the look in them mildly petulant.
Shen-shixiong practically buries his face in his fan, his pale rose-petal lips pursing into a displeased pout.
Liu Qingge stares.
Hidden behind the makeshift mask, his face cycles through a wide range of emotions that Shen Qingqiu never shows in public. There is a flash of irritation, a mocking eye roll, the slightest hunch of his shoulders, and a deepening pout.
He also looks vaguely sleepy, his eyes blinking slowly and staring unseeingly at his fan.
He is having a full-blown sulk.
Liu Qingge stares and stares.
For some reason, his heart is beating loudly in his chest and his ears feel warm. He feels like he is witnessing something precious, a sort of sweet secret that no one else should see. He can't draw his eyes away.
Shen Qingqiu's face has never been so mobile and lively. He has known the man for years and has never seen all his thoughts written on his face so clearly.
Eventually, much to Liu Qingge's dismay, his shixiong composes himself and dips his fan a bit lower, bright eyes peaking and glancing about to see if someone noticed his private tantrum.
Liu Qingge valiantly tamps down on the amusement bubbling within him and composes himself. By the time Shen Qingqiu's eyes flick past him, his face betrays nothing even if his ears continue to feel flushed.
He doesn't know what to do with this… newfound insight into his intriguing shixiong's personality.
Throughout the remainder of the meeting, Liu Qingge keeps an eye on Shen Qingqiu, placing himself strategically to ensure he can always see behind that fan.
He is rewarded with many pouts and mouthed words that, from Shen Qingqiu's expression, must've been disparaging. All the while, this little two-faced shixiong of his glides across the room with a calm elegance, his gestures gentle and his eyes quietly contemplative; the very picture of scholarly grace.
By the end of the meeting, Liu Qingge realizes, much to his horror, that Shen Qingqiu is cute.
-2-
A month-long mission away from the peak should’ve made him forget about his shixiong’s antics, but it doesn’t. His blood sings in anticipation as he approaches the bamboo house to help clear Shen Qingqiu’s meridians. He wonders if he can get his shixiong to let his guard down a bit and show those amusing expressions openly. It is a bit early and Shen Qingqiu is always a little less put together and a little more relaxed in the mornings.
He is just about to kick the door down when his keen ears pick up a faint melody. It isn’t the sound of a guqin or any instrument. It sounds like someone is humming, voice a little deep and familiar but also wavering and casual.
He slows and lightens his footsteps, applying the stealth he regularly uses on his hunts to approach the house to find the culprit.
The sight that greets him is… memorable.
Shen Qingqiu is singing and… dancing. If you can really call wriggling your body and nodding your head a dance. He is holding his closed fan under his mouth like some sort of stick and singing to it in a strange, flat language. His voice is soft but his expression is open, his hand raised in the air in triumph.
‘Buddy, you're a young man, hard man,’ Shen Qingqiu purses his lips as he speaks those strange lyrics, his expression attempting and failing to appear rough and stern, ‘Shouting in the street, gonna take on the world someday,’ He points at his face, ‘You got blood on your face, you big disgrace,’ and then waves his unoccupied hand, ‘Waving your banner all over the place!’
‘We will, we will, rock you!’ His collected, elegant Shen-shixiong snarls at the apparently powerful lyrics, punching the air above him, ‘We will, we will, ro-ark.’
The song comes to an abrupt end, the last word strangled in Shen Qingqiu’s throat as he stares at Liu Qingge with wide eyes.
Liu Qingge feels his entire body shake as he stares at the man, taking in the wide eyes, flushed cheeks, and ridiculous pose. He swallows his laughter down with much difficulty, just arching a brow and crossing his arms. He needs his arms restrained in some way or he will reach forward to cup that beautifully blushing face just to feel this person’s warmth.
Predictably, Shen Qingqiu snaps his fan open and buries his face in it, hiding from Liu Qingge’s amused gaze, his body melting back into his casual elegance. “Liu… Liu-shidi, I… I was just-”
Liu Qingge lets him stew for a moment, enjoying the sight of those trembling fingers before having mercy on his lovely shixiong, “I came to clear your meridians.” He says, managing to keep his expression calm. Green eyes peer tentatively from over the edge of the fan and his heart leaps at the expression of embarrassed gratitude in them.
Really, this man.
Liu Qingge resolutely ignores the rush of helpless fondness rising in his chest as Shen Qingqiu sits down, clearing his throat awkwardly, his fan moving to cool a faintly flushed face. He takes the offered wrist and channels his qi along the paths that have now become so familiar to him.
Shen-shixiong’s embarrassment is powerful enough to make his pulse race and qi dance in unpredictable ways. Liu Qingge itches to tease him, his eyes tracing the blushing ear even as he focuses on clearing the meridians. Shen Qingqiu refuses to look at him, his fan nearly shielding his entire face.
The silence lasts until the very end of their session but Shen Qingqiu is relaxed, believing that his shidi has taken mercy on him and spared his dignity.
Liu Qingge has done no such thing. He is a good hunter, just waiting to pounce at the most opportune moment. He waits until Shen Qingqiu’s qi flows smoothly and his pulse is calm. He waits until the fan dips a little to reveal a jade-like countenance and faintly smiling lips.
He takes a moment to savor the beautiful sight, eyes flickering over the comfortable expression before his lips twitch, “One would think,” he begins, “that Shen-shixiong would favor more elegant dance forms.”
Shen Qingqiu freezes, a blush of mortification climbing his cheeks once again, “Shidi…”
“But it appears,” Liu Qingge continues, ignoring the warning tone, “that I underestimated shixiong’s abilities. Is this something you plan to teach your Qing Jing disciples?”
Shen Qingqiu’s eyes spit fire at him, his fan snapping shut and raised high threateningly. Liu Qingge leans back, a quicksilver grin crossing his lips as he avoids a swat, “You brute! Who told you to sneak into my home like that?”
“I heard something strange and decided to approach with caution,” He explains, lying shamelessly. It had been curiosity, not caution that drove his actions then.
Shen Qingqiu tosses his fan at him, his lips pursing in disapproval. Liu Qingge catches it without effort, twirling it around easily.
“Who taught you to be so shameless?” Shen Qingqiu demands, his palm raised in a silent demand to get his most treasured accessory back, “Walking into people’s homes, invading their privacy. This shixiong is very disappointed.”
“I have done so many times and shixiong has never been so upset,” Liu Qingge doesn’t hesitate to point out, refusing to return the fan. He caresses the handle that’s still warm from Shen Qingqiu’s touch, “You’re only upset now because I saw something you want to conceal.” He leans out of Shen Qingqiu’s reaching hands, tucking the fan behind his back, “I’m curious, what language was that?”
“I’m not telling you,” Shen Qingqiu denies him immediately, “Give that back. Are you stealing things now?”
“You’re the one who tossed it at me,” He crosses his hands behind his back, dipping his fingers into one sleeve to pluck a different fan from it. He had spotted it during his travels and couldn’t help but buy it. He tosses that fan at his Shixiong and watches as he snaps it open only to pause, glancing down at it.
The new fan is a work of beauty, the handle smooth with bamboo patterns inlaid with gold. The pale green cloth with equally pale lotuses embroidered on it shimmers in the bright daylight. The craftsmanship on it is exquisite and delicate, the lotuses made from white silk threads gleaming against the green backdrop. Every stitch is meticulous and exceedingly fine, their quality apparent even to Liu Qingge’s untrained eyes.
Shen Qingqiu studies the fan quietly, running a finger along the handle and plucking at the tassel hanging from the end. The white jade ornament rests on the pale skin of Shen Qingqiu’s wrist and Liu Qingge can’t help but glance at it.
“For me?” Shen Qingqiu asks, his bright eyes glancing up at him in question. Liu Qingge nods gruffly, looking away. The light air from earlier has vanished and he feels his confidence vanish with it. He doesn’t always bring gifts back from his travels, not even for his sister. Perhaps him giving something like a beautifully-made fan to Shen Qingqiu says something he isn’t ready to voice.
Liu Qingge glances back at Shen Qingqiu and finds the man’s face partially covered once again. While most of his expression is hidden, his eyes are not and they gaze at him over the edge of the fan with a warm smile in them.
“Thank you, shidi.”
-3-
The entire Cang Qiong Sect benefitted from Shen Qingqiu’s personality change but his students benefited the most. Shen Qingqiu had been a feared and disliked Peak Lord before his qi deviation. Few dared to catch his attention and everyone wished to avoid his ire.
That Shen Qingqiu strung his students up and had them whipped for the smallest offenses. This one patted their heads and gently guided their hands through different sword forms.
The sight of Shen Qingqiu surrounded by a gaggle of beaming and enthusiastic disciples is unexpectedly pleasing. Liu Qingge had arrived at Qing Jing with the intention to monopolize Shen Qingqiu’s time. But seeing him gently correct clumsy stances makes him pause. He watches as the tall, elegant form moves between rows of disciples, eyes attentive and voice low. Every student follows the instructions provided diligently, unwilling to disappoint him.
Liu Qingge leans against a tree and watches them for a while, his lips twitching when a particularly sticky disciple trips, landing himself right into Shen Qingqiu’s arms with bright red ears. Shen Qingqiu, of course, steadies him and pats his head softly, fussing over him like a doting mother. The disciple clearly has less than pure intentions for tripping all over his beautiful shizun. Liu Qingge has seen this happen far too many times to bother with it. His shixiong’s most precious disciple is the biggest culprit but he isn’t the only one.
Shen Qingqiu continues training disciples for another half shichen and Liu Qingge is content to just watch him. Sometimes he demonstrates different forms, showing off the elegant Qing Jing style with its flowery movements and graceful twirls. Liu Qingge had always considered it a waste of energy but watching his shixiong perform this familiar dance doesn’t irritate him.
If anything, he could spend a lifetime watching the man move like leaves in the wind.
The little disciples are of the same mind, following their shizun’s movements keenly, enthralled by the graceful dance. The training ground is silent save for the swish of silk and the sharp noise of Xiu Ya cutting through the air.
Liu Qingge feels his lips twitch when Shen Qingqiu stops and looks over to his students, his jade skin coloring at their admiring gazes. He snaps his fan open and narrows his eyes at the kids, “Well? Are you going to just stand there or show this master what you have learned?”
The disciples immediately start swinging their swords, trying and failing to imitate their teacher. None of them were paying even a lick of attention, certainly not enough attention to understand the form. Shen Qingqiu purses his lips in a faint pout and wields his fan like a weapon, tapping hands, wrists, and hardheads gently, always gently, to correct the stances.
As the session ends, Qing Jing’s beloved shizun pats several heads, lectures like an exasperated mother, and shoos sticky disciples away with a wave, his lips curling into a soft little smile as some stubbornly linger until they get their headpats too.
Adorable.
Infuriatingly adorable.
He waits, hiding among the woods like a predator as Shen Qingqiu relaxes, his shoulders dropping slightly. He stretches his hands up and arches his back, stretching tired muscles now that he doesn’t have any eyes on him.
Liu Qingge treasures these moments above all else. He wishes to hoard them and tuck them away in the corner of his heart. He doesn’t want anyone else to see them and realize that under the Qing Jing Peak Lord’s stern facade, lies a soft, beautiful man.
The sleeves of his hanfu fall to expose the pale arms, seeming far too dainty for a man who wields a spiritual sword with such masterful ease. Liu Qingge studies him for some more time, his eyes tracing the length of his form before he steps forward.
The mask snaps back in place and his shixiong looks posed and guarded once again, smiling at him from over the rim of his fan, “Liu-shidi! Have you come to visit this shixiong?”
“Your meridians,” Liu Qingge reminds him bluntly.
“Ah,” Shen Qingqiu nods, sounding slightly disappointed, “Come along then.”
Liu Qingge walks alongside his shixiong, watching the man out of the corner of his eyes. They’re close enough for their sleeves to brush and Liu Qingge is fascinated by the flush of exhilaration that still lingers on Shen Qingqiu’s face. He wants to push him a little further, make him sweat, and then bury his face in his shixiong’s neck to smell the truth of him.
He wonders if Shen Qingqiu would ever trust him with his authentic self. He wonders what it would take to make him open up, to show him that softness he attempts to hide every day.
The cleansing of meridians goes as smoothly as it always does and Liu Qingge lingers, his fingers resting on the warmth of Shen Qingqiu's wrist a bit longer than appropriate.
He tests the waters a bit, running his thumb absently against the soft skin, staring at Shen Qingqiu discreetly through his lashes.
Ah.
His shixiong's blush is pretty.
-4-
'My dearest Liu-shidi,'
Liu Qingge pauses, his eyes refusing to move away from those words. The penmanship is refined, as elegant as the man who has written it.
'I hear you will be visiting Xiuyu mountain. We didn't have time for tea before your trip so I have penned this letter. This shixiong will be grateful if you could do him a favor. There's a peculiar little flower that grows on the southern slopes of the mountain. It isn't found anywhere else and is notoriously difficult to cultivate, even in carefully controlled environments.
The flower, the Moonlight Spotted Angel, has silvery-white petals with black spots like sprinkles of ink at the tips of the petals. The center of it is black with a yellow bed. The leaves are dark green with smooth edges and the plant grows to around a grown man's knee. The plants grow in clusters so you can easily spot them from a distance. If you see a bed of white flowers while flying along the Southern face of the mountain, please collect a few flowers for me. If you can manage a few plants, all the better.
The flower is known to help counteract potent aphrodisiacs and stimulants. It may also work on a few poisons and different kinds of venoms.
I've included a sketch of what it may look like.
If shidi can get a few flowers and plants for his shixiong, this one will be most grateful.
Do not go out of your way to get them. Don't take unnecessary risks.
Liu Qingge scoffs at the thicker and more forceful strokes used to convey that command, his lips twitching into a reluctant smile.
Of course, it is no trouble to fetch the flower for Shen Qingqiu. He would do it even if the flower grew in a dark cave surrounded by monsters. He would welcome the challenge.
Since when has he turned away from risky hunts and danger?
They will be well-preserved if you wrap them in a damp cloth and store them in your Qiankun pouch. It doesn’t matter if the petals are damaged in the process, I just need the pistil - the bit in the center of the flower. If you can, leave a few inches of stem on them when you pluck.
If you bring these flowers, this shixiong will owe you a favor and his best tea.
Liu Qingge rolls his eyes and tucks the letter away inside his hanfu, close to his strongly beating heart.
‘My dearest Liu-shidi…’
He unsheathes his sword and heads towards the mountain, his mind drifting towards Shen Qingqiu as it always did when he had nothing to distract him. He wonders if his shixiong would smile when he presents him with the flowers. He wonders if he will hide that pretty smile behind the fan Liu Qingge gave him.
Finding the plant and obtaining a substantial number of flowers along with a couple of saplings doesn’t take much time or effort. The area is infested with the knife-winged snake, which proves to be an annoyance. The small snakes don’t take kindly to him trampling through their peaceful meadow and fly at him with their sharp wings positioned to cut.
He bats them away when they get too close to his face and collects what he needs. There are two stinging cuts on his cheek and jaw as well as one low on his neck but he doesn’t pay much attention to them. The wingtips are slightly venomous so the cuts won’t heal quickly but the venom is nowhere near potent enough to cause an ordinary cultivator any harm, much less someone at the level of Liu Qingge.
It takes a day of flying to return home and Liu Qingge decides to head straight for Qing Jing Peak instead of checking on Bai Zhan first.
He may or may not want Shen Qingqiu to fuss over his injuries.
He arrives just in time for the day’s activities to end. Shen Qingqiu is probably tired and looking forward to a relaxing tea. He likes to catch his shixiong early in the morning, when he is too sleepy to be on guard but the end of the day is also a good time.
A thrill of anticipation courses through him as he pushes the door open without any ceremony and slips into the house. He hasn’t bothered concealing his qi and Shen Qingqiu has some of the most acute senses among the Peak Lords.
When their eyes meet, Shen Qingqiu doesn't look surprised but that expression quickly morphs into concern when he spots Liu Qingge's wounds.
"Liu-shidi! What have you done to yourself?" He demands, setting his brush aside and rising to his feet quickly, eyes a little wide.
"It's nothing," Liu Qingge waves him off but does take a seat at his demanding glare, "Encountered a hoard of knife-winged snakes." Shen Qingqiu's expression relaxes a little and he huffs, walking over to a set of drawers to fetch his medicine box.
The wounds are superficial but Shen Qingqiu is a fussy mother hen. He has been since he woke up from his fever and changed completely. Liu Qingge feels a thrill shoot through him when Shen Qingqiu sits before him, bright eyes serious as they scan his wounds, “Look at how you’ve ruined your pretty face,” Shen Qingqiu chides, cupping his face and cleaning the wound, “Knowing you, these weren’t even cleaned. You trust your cultivation too much.”
“It barely stings,” Liu Qingge resists the urge to roll his eyes and tilts his head obligingly, letting Shen Qingqiu do as he wished. It was a rare delight to see that unveiled face up close. His shixiong's fingers are soft and warm, the fingertips firm from calluses.
The hands of a renowned guqin player.
Liu Qingge closes his eyes briefly, listening to the rustle of silk as Shen Qingqiu moves around a bit to find the required medicine. The cold salve stings but Liu Qingge doesn’t even blink, keeping his eyes barely open so he can watch Shen Qingqiu from under his lashes.
Liu Qingge doesn’t recall ever thinking that Shen Qingqiu was pretty, not before the fever anyways. But these days, he finds it difficult to keep his thoughts from straying into ridiculousness. He should stop thinking about how soft Shen Qingqiu’s face is or how bright his eyes are. He shouldn’t dip his gaze down to his lips and wonder at their gentle curve. He shouldn’t think about how his shixiong would react if he dipped his head forward and pressed his lips to the swan-like neck.
He almost leans forward, swayed by all of the beauty before him. He almost gives in to the yearning that has slowly been building in his chest.
Almost.
Shen Qingqiu swallows and Liu Qingqiu flicks his gaze upward, something warm curling in his chest at the sight of his shixiong looking away to pack his medicine, his ears bright red.
He thinks if he asks, Shen Qingqiu would let him.
Liu Qingge holds that knowledge close to his heart as Shen Qingqiu rises to his feet and puts the medicine box away, his actions somewhat stiff and flustered.
Soon.
-5-
Without a Cure strikes at the most inopportune times. They are fighting back to back against a giant two-headed serpent when the poison steals Shen Qingqiu’s strength. Liu Qingge feels the body against his back sag a little, clearly losing strength. But losing strength doesn’t mean losing courage or care. Despite the poison, Shen Qingqiu still manages to decapitate one head before it can bite Liu Qingge. But ends up hurting his arm in the process, the crack of it loud even over the downpour happening around them.
Liu Qingge doesn’t waste time cutting the other head off before spinning around. He catches Shen Qingqiu to steady him, a litany of curses erupting in his mind. His shixiong is ashen-faced but as poised as ever. He barely lets any trace of pain show on his still countenance but Liu Qingge isn’t fooled. He looks around and curses, knowing that there’s no way he can fly an injured and powerless Shen Qingqiu towards Cang Qiong or even the nearby village in these conditions.
Fortunately, the hut of the little family the demon killed is still intact and usable. He mutters a silent prayer to the departed souls before he enters the place, placing Shen Qingqiu on a clean bed in a corner. His shixiong is stoic, but his fingers tremble and uncharacteristically, he hasn’t spoken a word. That alone is enough to convince Liu Qingge that Shen Qingqiu is in considerable pain.
“Shen Qingqiu, do you have any medical supplies on you?” It is easier to ask him first and then check the hut for any medicines if he doesn’t have them. His shixiong nods curtly, grimacing in pain as he plucks a qiankun pouch from his sleeve and gives it to Liu Qingge.
Liu Qingge finds something to numb the pain and swiftly gets around to collecting items to create a splint. There are a handful of dried bamboo sticks in one corner of the hut. He grabs a few and tears
Shen Qingqiu finally finds his words after the medication takes effect, “This shixiong apologizes for troubling Liu-shidi.”
“You got injured for my sake, what’s there to apologize?” He asks as he wraps Shen Qingqiu’s arm, taking care to keep his touch gentle. Shen Qingqiu’s eyes are barely open and his entire focus is inward, his breathing slow and deliberate. His skin is wet from the rain, luminescent in the faint lamplight next to the bed. The tip of his nose, corner of his eyes, and his lips are flushed red. It is probably because of the combination of cold rain and pain, but Liu Qingge feels a stir low in his belly.
His shixiong looks like he has just been kissed by a passionate suitor.
He shakes his head sharply and refocuses his attention, making sure the splint is secure and Shen Qingqiu is comfortable.
Liu Qingge suspects there’s some sort of sedative in the medicine because Shen Qingqiu looks like he’s going to fall asleep any moment. Liu Qingge helps his shixiong out of his sodden outer layers, grateful to note that the inner layers are dry and warm, most likely due to the delicate talismans embroidered in the fabric. His inner robes are similarly warm but he doesn’t bother removing his outer ones. They will dry eventually and his qi is keeping him warm.
There are extra robes in the qiankun pouch, but Liu Qingge doesn’t bother with them. They can’t leave this place until the storm clears and there’s daylight. It would be best to let Shen Qingqiu remain comfortable and get some sleep.
But before that, “Let me clear your meridians.” He says as he situates himself behind Shen Qingqiu, supporting his warm form when his shixiong sways a bit. He will have to speak with Shen Qingqiu and Mu Qingfang about the pain medication. Whatever that concoction was, it shouldn’t have been a part of his shixiong’s travel medicine kit if it contained such a sedative.
He tries to clear the meridians while maintaining a respectable distance between them but it is clear that his shixiong can’t sit without proper support.
Liu Qingge can feel his cheeks color as he leans Shen Qingqiu against his chest. He’s half-embracing Qing Jing Peak Lord as he cycles the qi through his meridians and clears all blockages. By the time he is done, his shixiong is asleep, pliant and unguarded against Liu Qingge’s chest.
He cuts off the qi flow and stares down at the sleeping form for a bit. It says something, he thinks, that Shen Qingqiu allows him to move him around, undress his outer layers, and pull him close without any sign of discomfort. He knows he wouldn’t be so unguarded in anyone else’s presence.
His shixiong didn’t even hesitate to trust his entire self to Liu Qingge.
He closes his eyes and shifts slightly to rest himself against the wall, moving Shen Qingqiu until the man is comfortable. The warm weight feels strangely unfamiliar, even though he has held or carried his shixiong many times now. There’s something about the intimacy of their position that colors his experience.
The patter-patter of the rain against the hut creates a sense of isolation, like he and Shen Qingqiu are separated from the world and only have each other. There are no responsibilities trying to gain their attention or disciples causing trouble. There was no need for the man in his arms to be the composed and elegant Shen Qingqiu.
Helplessly drawn, Liu Qingge shifts and cups Shen Qingqiu’s cheek, rubbing his thumb against the warm skin. If his hand shakes with emotion he can’t quite contain, no one is there to witness it. He can feel his focus narrow, his heart beating fiercely in his chest. He leans forward just a bit to see his shixiong clearly in the flickering lamplight. To take in his sharp features, relaxed expression, that red, rosebud mouth.
Liu Qingge feels his face heat even as conviction builds in his chest. This situation is unbearable.
Why should he hold back? What is stopping him from just asking for his shixiong’s company, from initiating a formal courtship? Unless he has read his Shen Qingqiu wrong, there’s very little evidence to discourage him. His shixiong receives his attentions with pleasure, seems to genuinely enjoy his company, and doesn’t mind being vulnerable in his presence.
His shifts his fingers, pressing gently to tip Shen Qingqiu’s face up. His hands, made for fighting demons and slaying evil, flutter over delicate skin. He brushes jet black hair off a smooth forehead before reaching up to remove Shen Qingqiu’s guan, letting the waterfall of ebony flow over the arm holding his shixiong close. His conscience prickles him a little for taking such liberties but he knows he has no dishonorable intentions.
He smoothes the hair down, watching as Shen Qingqiu’s expression relaxes a little further, his lips parting in a soundless sigh.
As tempting as it is to kiss them, he doesn’t. He can wait. He can hold his shixiong in his arms all night, shelter him, protect him from anything that would seek to harm him.
One day, he will earn the right to kiss those lips and press his nose against the gently-beating pulse on Shen Qingqiu’s neck.
One day.
-+1-
Liu Qingge’s patience snaps eventually and not even his habitually reserved character can hold the passion in his chest back.
Shen Qingqiu has recovered enough to accompany Liu Qingge on a mission that requires his expertise. He is in fine form - well-rested, eager to leave his peak for some time, and hiding irrepressible smiles behind the fan Liu Qingge had gifted him all those months ago.
The monster they’re about to hunt, the four-fanged bat, has possessed his shixiong’s interest entirely. Liu Qingge has heard all about how the creature can assume human form and lure victims into dark alleyways to feast on their blood. It is a creature that requires more than brute strength to defeat it. The bat has some characteristics that can distinguish it from regular mortals.
The mission takes two days of endless wandering through markets, scanning people’s faces, while wearing rough clothing that doesn’t give away their status. Liu Qingge makes it a point to place himself between Shen Qingqiu and strangers and his shixiong notices, if the look he receives for his protectiveness is any indication.
It is early in the morning when they are just stepping out to seek breakfast when Shen Qingqiu places a hand on his arm to catch his attention. He subtly tilts his head to the side in question and his fellow peak lord discreetly gestures at a figure slowly walking towards the woods.
Liu Qingge squints at the form, taking in the hunch, the way the man shields himself from the rising sun, the light-absorbing black of his hair…
All characteristics that Shen Qingqiu had attributed to the four-fanged bat.
They exchange glances and Shen Qingqiu walks away from him, heading towards a darkened alley to summon Xiu Ya. Their plan is a two-fold attack. Liu Qingge attacks directly, chasing the bat and keeping it distracted as Shen Qingqiu sets up an array to trap it. These bats are nearly impossible to catch because of their speedy movements. While they can’t outpace a skilled cultivator on their sword they can certainly dodge even someone on Liu Qingge’s level.
The chase is thrilling and frustrating at the same time. The demon is exactly as Shen Qingqiu had described it. It isn’t as fast as Liu Qingge when it comes to running and attacks but it can dodge quickly and can navigate better through the woodlands around them.
He senses a pulse of qi and immediately starts herding the bat in that direction.
Liu Qingge is a seasoned hunter and cultivator. The bat, while above average when it comes to demons, is not nearly as smart as someone like the Bai Zhan Peak Lord. The short but intense fight that follows sends his blood pumping. He pushes his body to strike fast and vicious, trying to weaken his opponent as much as possible.
The demon backpedals and stumbles into the array Shen Qingqiu set up, effectively rendered immobile and mute. It can’t use its screech to burst their eardrums or destabilize their qi, which is an emergency attack that the bat uses only when it is cornered.
Liu Qingge eyes the bat warily, making sure the demon isn’t powerful enough to break whatever enchantment Shen Qingqiu has established. When it seems like the demon can’t move and is slowly losing its consciousness, Liu Qingge turns to Shen Qingqiu, ready to discuss how to proceed but the look on his face stops him.
Shen Qingqiu’s fan rests just below his chin so the entranced expression is bared for the world to see. Green eyes gleam and a pretty mouth hangs slightly open. There’s a slight flush on that jade-like countenance and Liu Qingge feels something in him snap.
There’s blatant admiration and desire written all over that devastatingly pretty face.
Heat floods his cheeks but he doesn’t turn away. Instead, he stalks forward, watching as those eyes widen and those fingers tighten around the fan.
Shen Qingqiu raises his fan and turns his eyes away demurely, but Liu Qingge doesn’t see any disapproval or fear written in his shixiong’s expression.
Liu Qingge comes to an abrupt stop barely a breath away from him, watching as the ear facing him turns red slowly and the eyes remain away, only flickering in his direction once or twice before dancing away like a shy but curious bird.
“Shen Qingqiu,” He says tightly, his heart racing and his lungs feeling starved for air. He needs to know- he must know what lies in his shixiong’s heart. He is no longer content with guesses and meaningful glances. He wants to know it all, know for certain that Shen Qingqiu’s heart can belong to him, that there’s room in his life for a lover, a husband. “Shen Qingqiu.”
Shen Qingqiu hesitates for a moment before lifting his eyes and meeting Liu Qingge’s gaze. His expression is tentative but not disapproving or ignorant.
The demon is subdued, there’s no one around, and there’s nothing but welcome in Shen Qingqiu’s eyes.
Liu Qingge finally lets the tight control he has exercised for months go, his hands coming up to cup his shixiong’s shoulders, fingers spasming with want and emotion, “I…” He swallows, “You…”
Shen Qingqiu swallows as well, biting his lip, “If Liu-shidi wants to say something,” He speaks softly, his voice gentler than it usually is. There’s no teasing edge to it, no knowing spark in those intelligent eyes, just a quiet sort of hope tinged with a hint of caution, “This shixiong will be happy to hear it.”
Liu Qingge’s fingers dig into his shixiong’s arms and he steps closer, “I can barely hide anything from you,” He says hoarsely, “You’ll make me say it?”
A spark enters Shen Qingqiu’s gaze, “Is Liu-shidi scared?”
“Be serious,” He snaps, unable to help it. He steps closer and his voice drops to a hoarse whisper, “Be serious.”
Shen Qingqiu hesitates a bit before raising his hands to cup Liu Qingge’s face, the gesture speaking words neither of them have found courage to say just yet. Shen Qingqiu closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, “I am serious.” He flicks his eyes open and looks up, “And I am listening. Whatever Liu-shidi says will be safe with me, always.”
“I care for you,” Liu Qingge bites out, shaking. The fingers on his face flex but remain gentle and tender.
“I care for you too,” Shen Qingqiu says softly in reply, his eyes dark.
Liu Qingge swallows, “You… I can’t take my eyes away…”
Those lips curl into a smile, “Is that so?” Hands pull him down until their faces are barely a breath away.
“You’re beautiful.”
“So are you.”
Liu Qingge’s hands slip down Shen Qingqiu’s arms and rest on his waist, fingers curling possessively, “Let me be yours.”
Shen Qingqiu lips are smiling shyly as they brush against his, “And I am yours.” He whispers.
The demon lays dying in the array and the early morning sun floods the clearing with radiance. Surrounded by the chirping of waking birds, Liu Qingge kisses the mouth that has been tempting him for months and presses the body he has desired so desperately, close.
If his hands dip a little lower to cup and squeeze supple flesh, no one is there to witness it.
Shen Qingqiu’s scandalized gasp is a sweet enough reward.