Chapter Text
“Unfortunately, Shen-shixiong, you are suffering from a demonic infection of the qi,” Mu Qingfang explained as he released Shen Qingqiu’s wrist. “The energy has likely taken root so quickly because of, forgive me for being presumptuous, inner turmoil lingering in the spiritual pathways, feeding the demonic energy. Perhaps something that happened in your past that caused hurt or resentment.”
“Presumptuous is the correct word,” Shen Qingqiu snarled.
It had been a long day, and Shen Qingqiu had the foreboding suspicion that a migraine was on the horizon. Just because he was advanced enough in his cultivation to no longer suffer from the migraines that had plagued him since he had been a dirty wretch in a dirty alley didn’t mean he couldn’t still sense one coming.
Mu Qingfang took a step back and stroked his facial hair, likely so that he could have something to do with his hands that wasn’t a futile placating gesture. When they’d still been disciples, Mu Qingfang would twist fingers into the sleeves of his robe when he’d needed something to do with his hands.
“My apologies Shen-shixiong,” he muttered, looking more put-upon than chastised.
After his sect brother remained quiet long enough for the air to grow stagnant between them, Shen Qingqiu snapped his fan open to hide a sneer behind, already anticipating bad news. Mu Qingfang only dawdled when he was delivering an undesired diagnosis.
“Well?” He prompted. “What is there to be done?”
Mu Qingfang cleared his throat, looking askance, which was disheartening.
Being the middle of summer, the room was sweltering, even with the breeze fluttering the privacy curtains around the room. Mu Qingfang had a sheen of sweat on his forehead and had pulled his hair away from his neck more than once during their conversation, though he stayed engaged. Shen Qingqiu was chilled. He tended to always run cool, but he felt moments away from shivering, another side effect of this damned infection.
Shen Qingqiu didn’t often find himself in peril, but his last trip down the mountain had left him with a seemingly none-too-serious wound from an encounter with a lesser demon from the western courts. The demon had been dispatched quickly and efficiently but not before it stuck him in the thigh with an arrow whose bolt bled dark energy into Shen Qingqiu’s spiritual pathways.
Of course there wasn’t going to be an easy fix. When had anything in Shen Qingqiu’s life ever been simple?
“Unfortunately, there isn’t yet a cure known for this particular ailment. Any interference by outside spiritual energy will destabilize your meridians, at best triggering a qi deviation and at worst, killing you.”
Mu Qingfang was, of course, the leading expert in medical practice not just in their sect but across the cultivation world. If he had no answers, there was little hope anyone would.
At least any righteous cultivator, it would seem.
Shen Qingqiu sighed wearily.
“I have an acquaintance who may be able to provide a solution in such a situation.”
As much as he’d hoped to keep his brother from the sect for as long as he could, indefinitely ideally, Shen Qingqiu was sure that if he didn’t call on him and then died of a demonic influence, Shen Yuan would turn to the ghostly path just to resurrect him and beat him over the head.
Alas, his brother was a damned good demonic cultivator, traveled and studied and competent. If he couldn’t solve the problem himself he would likely know of a solution or have the means to find one.
“Oh?” Mu Qingfang said, his tone interested and curious, though somewhat unbelieving.
“My brother.”
Yue Qingyuan perked up from where he’d been keeping vigil by the door, only allowed to stay on the explicit instruction that he remain silent.
“Xiao-Yuan is coming?”
“Out,” Shen Qingqiu said flatly, snapping his fan closed as he pointed to the door.
Yue Qingyuan’s eyes grew round and wet, though he left as commanded, sending one last downtrodden look Shen Qingqiu’s way. It was no wonder the sect leader was so excited for Shen Qingqiu’s brother to visit, seeing as Shen Yuan was the only of the Shen twins who could be swayed by those sad, damp eyes.
“I will contact him promptly,” Shen Qingqiu informed Mu Qingfang.
It was lucky the ailment Shen Qingqiu suffered wasn’t more time sensitive because it took a week just for the message to reach Shen Yuan and then the better part of a month on top of that for him to get to Cang Qiong from where he’d been.
The whole while, Shen Qingqiu was unable to utilize his spiritual energy and thus confined to the mountain by overprotective peak lords and students alike. As the days passed, he grew more and more easily fatigued, becoming tired quickly and requiring more rest than typical. He bided his time ignoring questions about his visiting brother from those who knew, teaching lessons while seated because his weak legs couldn’t hold him for more than a few minutes at a time, and overseeing Liu Qingge as he instructed Shen Qingqiu’s students in the sword where he himself was unable due to his condition.
It was during such overseeing that Shen Yuan finally arrived.
Shen Qingqiu was barely sitting upright in the chair Ning Yingying, ever dutiful, had self-appointedly decided to carry after him wherever he went since he’d become unable to stand on his own for more than a few moments at a time. He was unable to contain his disdain for having to debase himself by sitting where he should not, but he would rather spoil his reputation than leave Liu Qingge to fumble his way through Qing Jing’s specific style of sword lessons. Horror upon horrors.
The man was butchering the lesson even with supervision to such a degree that Shen Qingqiu wondered after the man’s own peak.
“A-Jiu!” Came a sudden shout across the peak, interrupting the lesson, though, thankfully, not startling anyone into injuring themselves on their blades.
Shen Qingqiu’s chest warmed at the sound even as his nerves frayed. His brother, on his peak for the first time. His brother, exposed to these righteous cultivators. His brother, here for him.
All of Shen Qingqiu’s disciples turned to where the shout had come from in unison, and they all immediately snapped back to Shen Qingqiu in the same fashion. Not from the shame at having been distracted from their lesson, like good students would have. No. They looked back and forth to gape between the two brothers, marveling, presumably, at how similar their faces were.
“Lesson dismissed,” Shen Jiu barked to get them to stop staring, unsettled by his disciples who were typically cowed by a sharp look from him, ignoring a glare in favor of gawping.
Liu Qingge, having been informed of Shen Yuan’s visit in advance from the last peak lord meeting, also stared intently at Shen Yuan as he approached, though not with the same astonishment as Shen Qingqiu’s departing disciples. Liu Qingge always wore an intense look on his face like he was assessing a threat or preparing for battle or deeply constipated. This was no different, the hard set to his brow framing the way his eyes followed Shen Yuan’s approach. His hand rested on his sword, which may have been alarming had that not also been typical for him. Fiddling with his sword hilt tended to be a nervous habit, one that left his conversation partners nervous, though whether that was by design, Shen Qingqiu was unsure.
“A-Jiu,” Shen Yuan repeated when he reached Shen Qingqiu’s side, slightly out of breath, either from the long trek up the mountain, or excitement at finally being allowed on Cang Qiong Mountain. He was darting eyes around the peak, taking in the rolling mountainside and bamboo forest. The training swords now strewn about haphazardly until that useless little disciple of his came along to clean them up.
Shen Qingqiu’s voice was weak when he spoke, though thankfully, his weary rasp covered up any emotion at seeing his brother after so long apart that might have slipped through.
“Yuan-ge.”
Shen Yuan beamed.
Neither actually knew which was the older twin. In fact, having been the identical street rats they were, no one else had ever cared so much as to ask. They had shared everything right up to their name, Jiu. Their slave masters hadn’t cared to ever tell them apart, intending to sell them as a pair anyway, a prized commodity as twins. Shen Yuan had been the one to first suggest one of them choose a new name, just before they had been sold to the Qiu household.
“If we show up with the same name, they will choose one for us,” he’d said. “So we should go ahead and choose so we can make sure it’s something good.
They had decided to play a game to decide, Shen Qingqiu couldn’t even remember what it had been, likely something simple, a game of chance perhaps. Whoever lost would choose a new name.
Shen Yuan had, of course, lost, though he hadn’t seemed too heartbroken to leave the name to Shen Qingqiu. He had even seemed to have the name Yuan ready.
Shen Qingqiu’s brother, the snake, had then turned around and announced that since he’d had to give up their name, he got to be the older brother. That had sparked a years-long argument that Shen Qingqiu had given up on once he realized Shen Yuan was too stubborn to ever capitulate.
“You look like shit,” Shen Yuan said, giving Shen Qingqiu a knock on the shoulder just shy of too aggressive for his weakened body.
Shen Yuan himself looked healthy, skin dark from days traveling in the sun, hair dusty from the road but shining healthily, though there seemed to be a twig tangled in his locks. This was always a relief. After years of Shen Yuan’s body failing, years of it being starved then poisoned and then caught in qi deviation after deviation, it was always a weight lifted to see his cheeks pinked and his shoulders filled out.
Shen Yuan’s hand lingered on Shen Qingqiu’s shoulder, giving a squeeze.
Shen Qingqiu refused to admit that he’d missed his troublesome brother, but he couldn’t help the way his shoulders relaxed minutely at the sound of Shen Yuan’s voice, the comfort of his warmth against the chill that had plagued him since his infection had started.
“No thanks to you taking your sweet time arriving,” Shen Qingqiu responded with a smack of his fan to Shen Yuan’s side.
Even just that simple motion exhausted Shen Qingqiu, causing him to tremble where he sat. He hoped Shen Yuan could truly help with his issue. His growing more and more helpless by the day was wreaking havoc on his reputation.
Shen Yuan let out a guilty chuckle.
“Sorry, didi. I got lost on the border to the demon realm and had to find my way back after I got your message.”
Shen Yuan was technically a rogue cultivator by trade, but he spent most of his time alternating between trouncing through the woods documenting creatures he found interesting and lounging around tea shops listening to gossip and spending the money Shen Qingqiu sent him so that he wouldn’t starve on the streets. Sometimes, when he wasn’t lazing about, his travels took him to dangerous places that Shen Qingqiu wished he would stay away from, but it made his brother happy, so he didn’t bother complaining anymore. Of course, it didn’t hurt that Shen Yuan, as lazy as he was, was a powerful demonic cultivator, match enough for just about anything that crossed his path.
”What sorry beast were you taking note of this time?”
Shen Yuan’s eyes lit up, but before he could let loose his typical long-winded rant, Shen Qingqiu held up a hand to stop him.
“On second thought, perhaps you could deal with the demonic energy eating me from the inside and then tell me about your travels when I am no longer infected.”
Shen Yuan rolled his eyes.
“So impatient, Jiu-di,” he said, though he helped Shen Qingqiu to his feet. “Being bitter like that will age you and then I’ll forever be the most lovely twin.”
Shen Qingqiu looked up as he stood to find Liu Qingge hovering at Shen Yuan’s back, still staring, as awkward as ever. He had that constipated look on his face that likely meant he wanted to start a conversation but didn’t know how. Shen Qingqiu wasn’t going to present the opportunity for him. Not after he’d saved the man’s life from a qi deviation a few years prior only to be dealt accusations in place of gratitude. The man would have to learn manners before Shen Qingqiu would do him any more favors.
As it was, Shen Yuan stepped back when Shen Qingqiu stood and bumped right into Liu Qingge’s chest, startling at the realization someone was behind him. He turned to face Liu Qingge who simply blinked at him in response.
“Excuse my rudeness,” Shen Yuan said with a small bow. “This one is Shen Yuan. I am your Qingqiu-shixiong’s twin brother.”
“You two look very similar,” Liu Qingge stated dumbly.
Really, the lord of Bai Zhan gave a bad name to Cang Qiong sometimes. Was fighting all he was truly good for?
”That is implied in being twins,” Shen Yuan responded with an amused look that turned to reprimanding as it swiveled to Shen Qingqiu. “Did my brother not tell you about me?”
The only response Shen Qingqiu deigned to give him was an unapologetic sniff.
Shen Yuan was a demonic cultivator. Shen Qingqiu had barely been accepted by his peers, and he cultivated normally. How would the rest of Cang Qiong mountain react toward this kind of backwards cultivation? No, better to keep as much information about his brother as he could to himself.
Liu Qingge just nodded and continued staring for a moment before he turned and stalked off.
Shen Qingqiu had witnessed Liu Qingge’s unfortunate social failings before, but somehow they seemed more prominent in the company of Shen Yuan, who could charm a smile from the face of a mountain.
“You sure know how to pick your friends,” Shen Yuan said dubiously as he stared after the retreating peak lord’s back.
“He is not my friend,” Shen Qingqiu seethed as he led them in the direction of Qian Cao, using Shen Yuan’s arm as support. “That brute is the Bai Zhan peak lord. He was instructing my students where I cannot because the only person who could cure my ailment was stumbling through the woods documenting the mating habits of some purple-toothed monkey-spider or some such.”
Shen Yuan ignored the pointed jab to crane his neck and boggle in the direction Liu Qingge had stalked off in.
“That’s Liu Qingge?” He demanded, turning back to Shen Qingqiu. “The Bai Zhan war god? I always imagined him more gruff and manly, a big, burly, scarred, hairy thing. He’s so…”
Shen Yuan trailed off, searching for the word. There were several that Shen Qingqiu might have provided: annoying, uncultured, rude, uncivilized.
”Pretty,” Shen Yuan settled on.
Shen Qingqiu made a disgusted face.
“If you pursue any of my fellow peak lords I will disown you,” he said.
Shen Qingqiu shared a face with his brother, but something about the way Shen Yuan wore it attracted admirers unlike anything Shen Qingqiu had ever seen. He’d been fending hopeful suitors off his brother since they had been old enough for such admirers to be called suitors instead of perverts. He’d also been beating them off back when they were still just creepy men after his sweet, naive brother, of course, but he’d done it then without the fear that Shen Yuan might one day accept the advances.
If he had to become in-laws with any of his fellow peak lords, he may never survive it.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t like men,” Shen Yuan laughed, shooing away Shen Qingqiu’s doubtfully raised eyebrow.
Shen Yuan had never once looked at a woman with any interest. He had said, when asked about it, “Ah, the women in this world are lovely, but they aren’t for me.” Which had been an odd way to confirm that he cut his sleeves. However, he had turned to deny liking men as well, after that, so Shen Qingqiu had assumed that his brother held no sexual inclinations. Though, the way Shen Yuan often appraised many a male form in what he called admiration left considerable confusion in Shen Qingqiu’s understanding of his brother’s preferences.
“But he’s so…pretty,” Shen Qingqiu repeated in a mocking tone, which earned him a nudge that would have toppled him over had he not been holding onto Shen Yuan’s arm.
“Besides,” Shen Yuan continued, making no further acknowledgement of Shen Qingqiu’s jab, “I’m fairly certain becoming cultivation partners with a righteous cultivator is not in the books for me. Might cause a qi deviation, who knows. Better to not risk it.”
”Still,” Shen Qingqiu said, feeling breathless just from this walk, even with support. “They’re off limits.”
”Want them all to yourself, huh?” Shen Yuan teased. “Or was it just one you wanted? Which peak lord was it again? Oh yes! Our long lost childhood—“
Shen Qingqiu was not too frail to deliver an elbow to Shen Yuan’s side. Even though the blow was weak, his elbow was pointy enough to cause pain.
”Hush,” he chided, more embarrassed than anything.
He wasn’t used to this kind of teasing anymore, having not been around his brother in a while. No one on the mountain would dare talk to him like that.
Besides, Shen Qingqiu had gotten over that crush on Yue Qingyuan years ago. Yes, it may have been rekindled at some point after they’d both joined the sect, but he’d gotten over it again. Now they were simply comrades who had a complicated history and nothing more.
Shen Qingqiu wished his hand was strong enough to keep his fan at his face in case he were blushing.
They arrived at Qian Cao with minimal more teasing to find Mu Qingfang waiting for them, having been made aware of Shen Yuan’s arrival. They were led to one of the beds in the common healing area, not as private as Shen Qingqiu would have preferred, with students milling about and one or two other patients layed out in beds of their own.
“I could have just done this in your house,” Shen Yuan said as he helped lower Shen Qingqiu to sit on one of the beds in the room.
“I asked to observe,” said Mu Qingfang, greeting Shen Yuan with a bow. “I am curious about how this particular ailment might be cured. I could find no documentation of a cure recorded, yet your brother seemed sure you could accomplish it. I apologize if this causes any inconvenience.”
“Also,” Shen Qingqiu said as he settled in, “our esteemed sect leader insisted we do this where medical assistance would be close at hand just in case something went wrong.”
”Ah, Qi-ge, what a worrywart,” Shen Yuan said with a wave of his hand.
As if cued, Yue Qingyuan stepped into the room, a smile already resting on his lips.
“Xiao-Yuan!” He called out as he approached. “It’s been too long.”
Yue Qingyuan never looked this pleased to see anyone, not even Shen Qingqiu. Shen Qingqiu’s envy was clouded by the fact that his brother had someone else on his side, should he be judged for his cultivation. Yue Qingyuan already knew that Shen Yuan cultivated the demonic path, so if he could still smile at him like that, he was sure to be there to protect him should others condemn him.
Shen Qingqiu wondered if Yue Qingyuan might smile at him like that if he still allowed him to call him Xiao-Jiu. Not that he would, but he wondered.
“It has,” replied Shen Yuan as he clasped hands with Yue Qingyuan, informal as ever. “Though you should visit me sometime as well. Get away from your stuffy mountain and rough it in the demonic wilds.”
They shared a good natured laugh that simultaneously made Shen Qingqiu feel at home and left out. Even that feeling left out felt familiar, seeing as he’d been feeling it since they’d been young, never so jovial as these two.
“Perhaps once we’ve dealt with your brother’s illness, I can find the time,”
“We?” Shen Qingqiu butted in. “I wasn’t aware you were going to be doing anything to help here, Zhangmen-shixiong.”
Yue Qingyuan wilted under the chill of Shen Qingqiu’s words, turning guilty eyes at him where he sat.
”Didi, be kind,” Shen Yuan scolded before muttering under his breath to Yue Qingyuan, “He’ll be nicer once he doesn’t feel so bad.”
“I can hear you, and no I will not. This is as nice as I get.”
They all knew this was untrue but no one called him on it, especially not Yue Qingyuan who was still delicate at times around Shen Qingqiu, likely remembering the years-gone rage that had nearly torn them completely apart.
Shen Qingqiu had been mad at Yue Qingyuan for years. Furious at being left behind, furious that Shen Yuan had been left behind as well, furious at the lack of explanation or responsibility taken. Shen Yuan hadn’t been so angry, though, which had somehow made Shen Qingqiu’s rage burn even brighter, furious all the more for his brother's sake as well.
So, once they’d all found one another again, after Shen Qingqiu and his brother had left their abhorrent master behind, after he had ascended the mountain, after months of sad eyes and not a word on why he’d abandoned them, after months of Shen Yuan begging him to ask, Shen Qingqiu had confronted Yue Qingyuan, his Qi-ge.
“You should explain yourself,” he had said as they sat for tea which Shen Qingqiu had arranged, a flat tone covering the rage that simmered beneath his skin.
When Yue Qingyuan had opened his mouth to respond, Shen Qingqiu had cut him off, too angry to stop.
“For Yuan-ge’s sake, if nothing else,” He had felt his simmering anger start to boil over. “Even if you have to make up a story so you don’t break his heart even more, tell him that you didn’t forget about him.” A breath, ragged and damningly vulnerable. “Whatever it is don’t let him know the truth. That you realized how good life as a cultivator was and cast off your whole dirty past as if it were shameful and sordid, us included.”
Yue Qingyuan had looked as if someone had wounded his very soul with those words, yet Shen Jiu had pushed on, emotion overcoming him as he spoke, breaking his voice until it rasped with anger or grief, one.
“He still thinks you must have been waylaid instead of enjoying your life here too much to ruin it by bringing in two dirty street rats who would only—“
Shen Qingqiu’s rising tone had been cut off by Qi-ge throwing himself to his knees with a gasped sound that had been nearly a sob. He had bowed his head to the floor as he’d shook, grinding his forehead to the ground so hard it had been audible.
“Never!” He had cried, sounding wretched. “I wanted more than anything to bring you two back. I wanted to save you two more than I wanted to eat, more than I wanted to sleep, more than my next breath!”
Shen Qingqiu had not been placated so easily, even as his heart had cried out at such words.
“Then why did you leave us to rot?” Shen Jiu had raged, jostling their tea as he had slammed his hand onto the table.
He and his brother had been the ones to suffer in the Qiu household, to be beaten and starved and nearly married into beds they hadn’t wanted. He and his brother had been the ones to break free from that house only to suffer under a cruel master who had nearly killed Shen Yuan in his attempt to force him to cultivate twisted ways when his body had been too weak to handle it. He and his brother had been the ones to find a different style of cultivation for Shen Yuan, so that he would stop suffering the qi deviations that would have killed him.
What was Qi-ge’s piddly guilt in the face of their trials?
He had tried for years to pretend that he hadn’t been hurt by Qi-ge’s betrayal, but he hadn’t been able to keep it in any longer. The two of them had waited for so long for someone who had never come.
“By the time I came back for you, it was too late,” Yue Qingyuan had heaved against trembling shoulders. “I tried so hard to advance my cultivation that I qi deviated deeply enough to ruin my golden core completely. I was was locked in the Lingxi caves for more than a year against my will until I had control of myself again.” He had taken his own shuttering breath that had become a sob when exhaled. His broad shoulders had shook fiercely. “When I was released from the caves, I came as fast as I could, but the manor was in ashes, and I was told no one had survived.”
Shen Qingqiu had frozen in shock, then, staring wide-eyed at Qi-ge’s grief-stricken form heaving with sobs. Never would he have guessed a real excuse would be forthcoming. One that would truly explain. One that made his heart ache further.
“I mourned you,” Qi-ge had wept. “I made tablets and kept vigil. Not a day went by where I didn’t think of you two.”
He had looked up then, with a pitiful, tear-streaked face. Tears dampened his flushed cheeks, lip trembling as a lost child’s.
“And then I found you again, alive, and I knew from the look in your eyes when you saw me that no excuse would be enough to forgive my shortcomings.”
Shen Qingqiu had continued staring, shocked. Desperate to believe these words even as he’d tried to keep grasp on his failing anger. That had been everything he’d wished to hear and more. Yue Qingyuan’s words had been a bucket of cool water over his raging heart, and yet, he’d refused to yield so easily.
“These are words you should have spoken to me the instant you knew I wasn’t dead,” he had said, voice still ragged, but with some emotion that wasn’t rage anymore. “We deserved to know, yet you let us think the worst. That you didn’t care anymore.”
And that had hurt the most, then. That this could have been avoided had they only talked. The months since he had been accepted onto the mountain could have been a cheerful reunion rather than the resentful glares it had been.
”What can I ever do to earn forgiveness for the pain I have caused?” Qi-ge had asked, desperation evident in his voice. “Please, anything.”
”You will explain yourself to my brother. If he has it in his heart to forgive you, then that will be that.”
It had been uncertain whether this would be a damnation or an easily won forgiveness. It was ever impossible to predict when it came to Shen Yuan. Though he was the kinder of the two, he seemed to have been born with an unpredictable habit of holding grudges, sometimes against the most unexpected people.
So, shaking with emotions expelled and with truths revealed, feeling a sliver of hope, of shock, of disbelief, of the warmth that Qi-ge hadn’t abandoned them, Shen Qingqiu had taken Qi-ge down the mountain to where Shen Yuan had been staying.
Shen Qingqiu had explained Shen Yuan’s cultivation on their way down the mountain, ready with defense and rebuttals. Ready to take his brother and flee should he be rejected and turned in to the sect. He had nearly waited so that Shen Yuan might explain himself, but he had been unsure of Qi-ge’s reaction and hadn’t wanted to watch Shen Yuan’s face fall if the reaction was less than favorable.
Qi-ge had been unsure, but had patiently waited as Shen Qingqiu had explained plainly their reasons for turning to demonic cultivation and the ways in which they had found this way to use it safely.
“He was dying, Qi-ge,” Shen Qingqiu had gritted from between grief-clenched teeth. “I would have become a demon myself if that was what it took to save him.”
Qi-ge had caught his elbow in a warm, firm grip, then, drawing them to a stop, making Shen Qingqiu’s heart race in his chest, readying his qi for any attack.
“I would never blame you two for surviving,” Qi-ge had avowed lowly, the intense look in his eye quickening Shen Qingqiu’s heart for an altogether different reason. “Nothing you could have done would ever overcome the joy I feel that you were not consumed in that fire.”
Shen Qingqiu had wanted to push the envelope, to see if he really meant it, but there had been enough emotion already, with more on the way once they spoke with Shen Yuan. He would push later.
Qi-ge had balked as Shen Qingqiu had led them to the Warm Red Pavillion, entering the gates without pause as he had countless times before.
“Does Xiao-Yuan often visit here?” Qi-ge had asked, his voice strained, his feet still planted outside the gates.
Shen Qingqiu hadn’t been able to keep himself from teasing, at least a little.
“Of course he does,” he had said, utilizing all his willpower to keep a grin from overtaking his face. “He works here.”
This had been no lie, though there was no doubt Qi-ge had the wrong idea as to what job he performed.
“Xiao-Yuan works here?” Qi-ge had choked out, face burning crimson.
“He has since I ascended the mountain and entered the sect. It was the only place that would let him laze about to drink tea and look pretty.”
It was also the only place that hadn’t balked at his dark cultivation. The common people were often ill-informed on all matters of cultivation, but one thing that seemed to be common knowledge was that demonic cultivators were to be avoided, shunned.
Qi-ge had closed his eyes to take a bracing breath which had given Shen Qingqiu the opportunity to hide a grin.
“Okay. Let’s meet him. I will earn my forgiveness.”
Once they had found him, Shen Yuan had been lying back, idly waving a fan in front of his softly painted face. He had been the very picture of decadence, of bored indolence, though Shen Qingqiu had known the truth. Shen Yuan painted a pretty picture, but his true purpose there was not to entice guests or entertain customers. He lounged around, playing the qin, gossiping with the ladies, looking beautiful and enticing, though he was not on the menu. No one ever expected it when he drew dark blades from his flowing sleeves or hauled men out the door with the strength of a bull. He was there in case anyone became rowdy, anyone tried to force their hand or refuse to pay. Shen Yuan, who looked as pretty as half the spring women in employment with his painted face and draping silks, could strike as quick as lightning when needed.
Qi-ge, who had already been as red as the lanterns out front, had seemed to burn even more brightly once he caught sight of Shen Yuan. Shen Qingqiu had been genuinely afraid he might feel embarrassment to such an extent as to experience a qi deviation, so he had decided to ease his mind.
“Yuan-ge isn’t a drake,” he had muttered, amusement coloring his voice. “He is here for the girls’ safety. Security.”
Understanding had dawned on Qi-ge’s face, and he had let out an embarrassed puff of laughter.
“Ah, good. I had feared–” He had cut himself off as Shen Yuan had caught sight of them.
Shen Yuan, eyes having been trained for years to pick his brother from a crowd, had noticed Shen Qingqiu first, dropping his fan to smile with all his teeth. Once his gaze had drifted to Qi-ge, though, his smile had dropped before reforming as a small, gentle thing, hopeful and brittle. Shen Yuan had stood before they’d reached him, nodding to one of the women across the room before leading them through the halls to the back where his room had been.
Shen Yuan had listened quietly to the end, stoically, without a twitch of emotion on his face. He had nodded when the story had finished.
“That makes more sense,” he’d said. “I knew that couldn’t be all there was to it.”
He had turned then to Qi-ge, who had been waiting on bated breath.
“The fact that you tried makes all the difference,” Shen Yuan had said with a gentle smile. “I forgive you.”
Some hurt still remained, but it was soothed by knowing their tragedy was one of circumstance and bad luck rather than cruelty or apathy on the other’s part.
That didn’t mean Shen Qingqiu had to be pleasant. Even if it was more to save face than any real resentment.
“Are we to continue chatting, or can we clear this foul energy before I wither away?”
”So dramatic,” Shen Yuan muttered, though he got to work, picking up Shen Qingqiu’s wrist to assess his meridians. “You should have pursued the stage instead of becoming a Peak Lord.”
There was a sharp sensation just shy of pain at the site where Shen Yuan pressed on his pulse, but it was replaced almost immediately by the familiar cool rush of his brother’s dark qi. Shen Qingqiu shuddered with relief as the demonic energy clogging his spiritual pathways was collected by Shen Yuan’s own and ushered out unceremoniously.
It took only a moment. Shen Yuan cleared the energy like it was nothing, as easy as a yawn, finishing the job in the time it would take one to pour a cup of tea.
“That should do it,” he announced with a self-satisfied grin.
Shen Qingqiu couldn’t help but feel smug in the stunned silence that followed. Yes, he had wanted to keep his brother safe from the sect, but now that he had to be revealed, Shen Qingqiu was pleased to finally be able to show him off. What better pair for Shen Qingqiu than this clever thing?
“That’s it?”
Mu Qingfang sounded astonished and looked even more disbelieving as he picked up Shen Qingqiu’s wrist, checking Shen Yuan’s work. He almost seemed as if he were expecting a trick. After a moment, he looked up in awe, his starry eyes meeting Shen Yuan’s pleasant face.
Uh oh.
Had Shen Qingqiu not been so tired he may have worked himself to a lather at the fact that Shen Yuan seemed to be charming yet another unsuspecting victim.
“Amazing. How were you able to manipulate the dark energy to safely separate it from his spiritual pathways without utilizing demonic cultivation?” He asked.
Shen Yuan gave him a cheery smile.
“I do utilize demonic cultivation,” he said. “I’m a demonic cultivator, did Jiu-di not say?”
Shen Qingqiu snapped open his fan to hide his face, to conceal the way his hands wanted to tremble.
”Must have slipped my mind.”
Mu Qingfang looked at Shen Yuan warily, eyes darting to his hands, then his side, perhaps looking for weapons, perhaps assessing this threat. He took a step back before turning to Yue Qingyuan, questions and accusations warring for favor in his eyes.
The silence spoke words.
Until Yue Qingyuan drew himself upright into his Sect Leader Authority and spoke.
“I will vouch for him,” His tone was so firm as to be unchallengeable. “Shen Yuan will be an honored guest of Cang Qiong, having traveled so far to heal one of our own. A brother to a peak lord.”
Shen Qingqiu relaxed at Yue Qingyuan’s announcement, his unwavering support. How sweet not to bear this burden alone.
“Thank you, Qi-ge,” Shen Yuan said before turning to Mu Qingfang. “Demonic cultivation really isn’t that bad if practiced the right way. I would be willing to let you examine my meridians to document how benign it truly is, if that would be helpful.” He glanced at Shan Qingqiu. “Though perhaps that can wait until another day.”
And benign his cultivation was, though that had been a combination of careful practice and dumb luck.
Traditional demonic cultivation, at least that which was practiced by humans, corrupted the soul, ate away at the mind and body, steeping the spiritual pathways in resentment until they ran murky, until they were so decayed that the rot spread to the rest of the body. Most demonic cultivators were driven mad from their own craft, having to be culled before they became the wild danger they would inevitably succumb to being.
Neither of them had known that at the time, though Shen Yuan had seemed nervous to try anyway, perhaps from how traditional cultivation had harmed him, how Wu Yanzi's dark cultivation had further injured his pathways. Then, almost as if by fate, just as Shen Yuan had become weak enough that Shen Qingqiu had been close to considering looking for alternate methods even if he had to invent a new cultivation style himself, they had happened on a demonic cultivation text, old, tattered, more of a journal than any scholarly instructions. It had been directly from the demonic realm, they had realized, where their cultivation was highly secretive, passed down from mouths and hands, elder to youth, parent to child, guarded, coveted.
As they had discovered, leafing through the disorganized text, demons utilized demonic cultivation differently than human cultivators did, harnessing the dark energy in a way that flowed through their bodies but didn’t stagnate there, that worked more akin to clearing anything harmful than fostering it. There was no core of dark energy, no keeping it in the body; rather, demonic cultivation was the art of pulling resentment from either themselves, an action that purged such energy from their bodies, or drawing it from around them.
Spiritual energy was essential, and was to be treasured, preserved, sheltered, forcing cultivators to maintain a core. Utilizing spiritual energy would be utterly devastating to the source if there wasn’t enough to cover the cost of what had been taken. If you gathered too much away, it could cause destabilization, a shattering of the qi, an obliteration of the essence of the thing. Demonic energy, on the other hand, was as abundant as it was beneficial to steal away, to craft to one's will.
Shen Yuan had been fascinated as he’d learned every new technique, startled and delighted that he was actually clearing resentment by utilizing it, turning into a tool instead of leaving it to fester. Overjoyed to be healing, to have put an end to his qi deviations. This was the only thing Shen Qingqiu cared about. Yes, the idea behind this cultivation was fascinating, but the only thing that had mattered to him was that Shen Yuan had stopped dying.
If the shine in his eyes were anything to go by, Mu Qingfang seemed to share Shen Yuan’s unfettered interest in this cultivation style. He immediately–almost too quickly for how hesitant he had seemed–let go of his suspicion in favor of intrigue, ever the curious healer.
“I will take you up on that,” he said with a smile. “Is there any way you could also teach me to clear demonic infections the way you just did? I would be fascinated to know.”
Shen Yuan helped Shen Qingqiu sit up as he answered.
“Unfortunately my methods are almost completely incompatible with spiritual cultivation.” He paused for a moment in thought. “I could perhaps devise a way for you to treat this ailment with the help of some instrument infused with demonic energy.”
Shen Qingqiu stood on shaky feet as they talked, still weak from the infection, though feeling his spiritual energy already begin to weakly circulate once again.
He knew that, if left unchecked, Shen Yuan could continue this conversation for hours. He would also, if his record stood, come out of the conversation with yet another admirer. An off-limits Peak Lord, at that.
”As riveting as this conversation may be, I would like to know how long until I may begin cultivating once more.”
”Ah yes. Apologies, Shixiong,” Mu Qingfang muttered, clearing his throat, a flush darkening his cheeks that could be blamed on the summer heat had be not been devoid of a flush before he’d spoken with Shen Yuan. “Seeing as the demonic infection has been cleared completely, you simply need to build back your strength, like exercising a weakened muscle. Start with meditation and when your spiritual energy feels like it has begun circulating like normal, you may begin other forms of cultivation.”
Shen Qingqiu hoped Shen Yuan or Yue Qingyuan were listening because he felt faint and tired and had tuned most of Mu Qingfang’s words out.
“For now, rest.”
That, Shen Qingqiu heard. In fact, he was quite eager to follow such instructions.
“I’ll help him back to his peak,” Shen Yuan said, once again taking him by the arm to support his weight.
”I will escort the two of you,” Yue Qingyuan said. “It will give us a chance to catch up while your brother rests.”
“Someone better start escorting me there now or I will depart on my own and collapse off the side of the rainbow bridge on my way. My death will be on your hands, for dilly-dallying.”
Shen Qinqiu couldn’t see his brother’s face, but he sensed his eyeroll anyway.
”I don’t think resting will cure his dramatics,” Shen Yuan said, beginning to lead him from the medical building. “But we can hope.”
Yue Qingyuan’s laughter sang from where he followed, but Shen Qingqiu was too exhausted to enjoy it much.
By the time they made it back to Qing Jing peak, it seemed word of Shen Yuan’s cultivation had already spread. Disciples stared and pointed and whispered, their mutterings of demonic cultivation not subtle in the slightest. Another shortcoming of Shen Qingqiu’s instruction that he intended to fix once he had fully recovered. If one were going to whisper something, it should at least be inaudible to the person you were whispering about.
Shen Qingqiu regretted that they hadn’t thought to have him cured in a more private place. Likely one of the Qian Cao disciples had overheard and ran to tell others. They were notorious gossips. No one could so much as breathe a pollen in without them spreading word to the whole of Cang Qiong. Shen Qingqiu would hold Mu Qingfang in contempt for his students’ behavior if his own incorrigible disciples weren’t just as bad.
Once they were safely in the bamboo house, sequestered from nosy disciples, Yue Qingyuan set to making tea while Shen Yuan helped Shen Qingqiu to bed, stripping him to his lowermost layer and taking down his hair.
“You had better still be here when I wake up,” Shen Qingqiu muttered, half-scared that Shen Yuan might vanish back to his adventures now that his task was complete.
”Don’t worry about all that,” Shen Yuan said, tucking him under the covers. “I plan on staying until you’re fully recovered at least. I’ve missed you.”
Shen Qingqiu didn’t respond that he’d missed his brother too, but he did reach out to clasp his hand.
“Don’t be too soft on Qi-ge while I’m asleep. He deserves to be bullied. He’s been spoiled as Sect Leader.”
Shen Yuan laughed, squeezing his hand.
“He can hear you.”
”Good,” Shen Qingqiu responded sleepily, too tired to care that he’d called Yue Qingyuan Qi-ge where he could hear, which would no doubt haunt him in the form of hopeful, longing stares once he awoke. “He deserves some bullying from me, too.”
Shen Yuan stayed at his bedside as Shen Qingqiu drifted off, meridians cleared, chest warm with affection, hand still clasped in his brother’s careful grip.
