Chapter 17: Stalks; Origin of good relations

Forenote:

So... been a while! Not sure where the time's gone tbh, but here now! With a nice long chapter to make up for it~ Some NYY-centric SQQ introspection for most of the first part, but other parts in motion too!


Shen Qingqiu stood at one end of a large, relatively secluded training ground within the bamboo forest and regarded the young woman stood across from him

Ning Yingying was dressed in Qing Jing mission cut robes- a typical spiritual cultivator style with fewer trailing ends and billowing layers than sometimes found on Peak, though the clean Peak spring greens and Cang Qiong whites were scattered with the bamboo forest's worth of dust, loose debris and blood-stained scratches.

Ning Yingying had made good progress with the Plucked Leaves Flying Flowers technique, though she still required her pair of fans to call and control it. Though, as evidenced by the minor burn on one wrist, she still had some training to do in fire suppression and redirection.

Still, she had made remarkable progress from the sweet, weak child she had been.

He looked at her and sighed internally. He had tried to make her hate him. He had pushed her hard, frequently past the point of pain and exhaustion, every training session he had made her bruise and bleed. In his critiques, he had ruthlessly ripped her apart with all the vicious, poisonous spite seeping from the core of his blackened, broken heart. As Shen Qingqiu had promised, she had suffered.

Sometimes he saw a flicker, a spark of hot iron anger, but he could never seem to fan that flame hatred and kindle resentment. It always changed, right before his eyes, sometimes brightening in white lightning determination, sometimes cooling into steely analysis and contemplation. It seemed that, as Ning Yingying had promised, she had persevered through that suffering.

He flicked his fan pair shut and tucked them away in his sleeve, his disciple (his apprentice, the heir to his legacy if ever there was one) following suit, folding the minty seafoam green silks with embroidered silver bamboo stalks and flickering dragonflies, taking a moment to straighten out the white strands of each tassel hanging down beneath green adventurine beads before putting them away in her little lotus-stitched qiankun pouch.

Shen Qingqiu summoned Xiu Ya to his hand and his opponent drew her borrowed liuyedao in answer. In an instant their blades met, dancing against each other, throwing sparks of qi and sword glares in every direction.

Sometimes it happened quickly, sometimes the shift took longer, but each and every time that ember of hatred died Shen Qingqiu was swept with conflicting waves of disappointment and relief, that he could not break her in the way that made a Hunter, that he could not inflict enough damage unto her to teach her how to reflect it back against the world. The way Shen Jiu had learned through the struggle of survival. The way Su Xiyan had been lovingly sculptured. The way Emperor Luo Binghe had had thrust upon him.

Ning Yingying's endurance still waned too quickly in intensive combat. A weak parry turned Xiu Ya to the side but her mind had slowed, and she didn't anticipate him following the motion and then swinging back up to reverse its path, gleaming white with qi glittering along the edge. She turned her blade to catch his instead of redirecting as she should have.

Under a strike from Wan Jian spiritual steel imbued with qi, the mortal metal cracked and shattered. Earthen eyes widened in horror as the shards of her Liuyedao- the same blade she had first lifted to train against him seriously all those moons ago- flew past her face, mirroring that horror in their reflection of her gaze for the briefest instance before they ended their final arc, scattering on the dusty ground.

No, he could not turn his Yingying into a Hunter. That did not mean she could not learn those lessons jut the same. One should always be aware of the limitations of their tools and themselves, as well as the abilities and weaknesses of their opponents when possible.

He spun Xiu Ya once and jabbed at Ning Yingying's side- just because she was disarmed did not mean the fight was over. This was one lesson she had learned well, however and she quickly recovered from the shock and twirled out of the way with a dancer's grace, using the momentum of her turn to launch her sword's naked hilt at his face like a dagger.

He caught the hilt with his other hand and tossed it away to the side

Shen Qingqiu would have used a qi attack in the same situation, or one of the many daggers he had always kept tucked in his sleeves. Ignited some powders or talisman to blind and startle, to buy himself some time, or make an opening to land a lethal blow and/or escape.

Ning Yingying used her time to retreat, to put distance between them for her to reassess the situation and prepare for the next bought. She just didn't have that ruthless instinct.

So no, Ning Yingying was not a Hunter. For better or worse, he had failed in that aim.

He could, however, see the warrior she was becoming and though a Warrior was of a lesser visceral threat than a Predator... to the majority of opponents, they were Danger enough. Liu Qingge was a Warrior. He held to a moral code of justice and had opinions on honour within his battles. He would not use dirty tricks spread about in dirty streets and dark back alleys, kicking dust, gouging eyes, pulling hair. Poisons, traps and talismans. For the vast majority of opponents, Liu Qingge and his Bai Zhan warriors, were a lethal threat in combat, but there was a reason Wu Yanzi, a Predator had been so very, very successful. Why he had only met his end at the blade of betrayal, wielded by another Predator, another Hunter. Had Shen Jiu approached the fight as a Warrior, he would have bled out besides Yue Qi into the earth of the Immortal Alliance Conference.

Perhaps if Liu Qingge had had less experience fighting against such tricks in his frequent clashes against Shen Qingqiu, he would have at some point met a similar fate.

Regardless, in this way Shen Qingqiu could ensure Ning Yingying was protected . If she knew to guard against such things, knew how to overcome them, she would only need enough of her own strength and kill to turn any battle on the offensive, powerful in her defence. As close to a Hunter as a Warrior could be.

He could see the echo of that warrior in her now. Her eyes are calm and intent on his, a placid smile gently curling about her lips. An answering smirk tugged at his mouth. He dropped down and swept out a leg, a touch of guiding qi calling up a thick dust cloud. She quickly flapped it away with wind small breeze and the motion of her wide, gauzy sleeves. With a flick of qi sharpening his eyes, he saw the embroidered silver bamboo, just like his, glittering with the rapid movement.

Not fast enough, however.

With perfect Qing Jing form, he attacked again and again, a relentless barrage that forced his opponent on the defensive and back to the same style ingrained in her roots under the stress of it. They battled like a pair of vicious, elegant cranes, his hands like striking beaks, her arms as sweeping wings. She kept up, barely, but failed to apply any elements of her Feathered Snake style. Disappointing.

Perhaps he should encourage her to seek out a spar with Xian Shu's Liu Mingyan, he knew Ning Yingying wrangled spars and ribbon instruction from Xian Shu with some regularity, but to his knowledge she had never tested herself against the Azalea Peak's Head Disciple. Though not as overt a personified weapon of war as her brother, the same Clan that produced him did her and he had taught her long and well besides. If there was ever a Predatory Warrior to match herself against, Ning Yingying would find no better in her current generation than the War God's sister.

It might help her fully grasp the Feathered Snake Style, to integrate snake style moves and ribbon work from Xian Shu into her Qing Jing crane style sequences and fan techniques.

Ning Yingying's aura suddenly sharpened and an arm struck out like a viper toward his throat, as if she hd read his disappointment. He parried her blow and opened her guard in the same move, lancing out a strike to her ribs, unexpectedly halted by her other arm winding around his like a coiling constrictor, holding him in place long enough for a fast blow to his sternum.

The impact shuddered through his chest, impressive for mere months of adding strength training to her routing, but still less than half the power of a physical cultivator of a similar level and also weaker than some of her shixiong among her generation of junior disciples.

Before she could retract her arms, he revered her grip and caught her wrist, before he snapped up one leg and slammed her across the clearing with the flat of his foot impacting her centre of mass, not enough to snap her ribs, but most defininitely enough to bruise them.

She choked, breath forcefully expelled from her lungs, but admirably kept her wits enough to launch some daggers from her sleeves at him, even before she skidded to a halt.

Poor aim - he only needed to deflect one of the four and he hadn't bothered to dodge – but it seemed she had in fact heeded his advice of keeping some extra blades hidden away.

He looked at the dagger in his grasp. There was the faintest pale mauve-blue discolouration along the edge.

His spine straightened with the upwell of pride at her ability. An infusion of Winking Periwinkle a low-rarity woodland flower and also a very fast acting hallucinogenic with the occasional additional effect of temporary blindness. Non-lethal and quickly metabolised even by a mortal constitution, but incapacitating enough in combat that that didn't matter. An easily replenishable, highly effective choice.

She had done well.

She was still slightly rough and unpolished, of course. There was still work to be done to integrate her Feathered Snake style seamlessly with her Qing Jing Crane base, but she fought with elegant skill and unhesitating perseverance. Strength coiled within her forms and power backing her blows.

And now trying out poisons for her fangs.

This might not the path he had once wished for his bouncy little Baoding-Ying... and perhaps in a kinder world she would not have needed to steel her softness, to make her mind a fortress and her body the weapon of a Warrior. But in this world there was not so much mercy, thus his little silver chime-ball was reforged into a shining silver dagger, tempered and ready to be honed to that killing edge.

However, he knew the word was cruel, so he could not bring himself to regret.

As he looked upon her now, he was so, so proud of how far she'd grown.

Still.

She had growth yet before she would fully shine as the deadly blade of the woman he saw in her, proud and brilliant, glowing like the silvered moon. A beaming moon which once wore the face of the brilliant flower that called herself his sister.

Her mother would be glowing , looking down upon her now. Ning Linlin would see a young woman who would never need to prostate herself at the feet of filthy men for her own survival, she would see strong soul of so much opportunity, waiting to be explored. Ning Linlin would see her daughter, alive and thriving, ready to face her future with her head held high.

He could almost see her now, stood at the edge of the bamboo dressed in matching robes like she alwyas did to pair with him, shining smile so wide it hurt, silvered tears slipping from the corners of her crescent eyes, precious pearls of grief and joy.

Shen Qingqiu closed his eyes against the sudden sting and inclined his head to his opponent, signalling to his disciple the end of the spar.

He watched for a moment as Ning Yingying immediately sagged in relief and rubbed at the dusty footpring on her robes with a pained grimace, taking deep and carefully measured breaths.

While she recovered, Shen Qingqiu removed some simple reed mats and a cloth from a plain qiankun pouch he'd prepared earlier in the day and set out his tea supplies. He brewed a pot of oolong and set out a few small dishes with cut fruit, sweets and one of lotus root stuffed with sticky rice and osmanthus honey. On a small plate in the centre, he placed two mooncakes.

Once she regained a normal respiration rate, Ning Yingying settled on the mat across from him, pushing stray strands of sweaty hair out of her face, attentive despite her physical exhaustion as she waited for his review. That is- until her gaze caught on the meagre offerings of food spread out.

With a sudden wet shine, brown eyes sought out green, "Jiujiu" her voice wavered.

Her poured her tea and nudged the lotus root bowl towards her, placing a wrapped pair of chopsticks next to it. "Yingying has worked hard, she should recover her strength." He hesitated for a breath, the added, "This uncle would also celebrate the Mid-Autumn Festival with family in some way, now if not beneath the full moon in full tradition."

Lotus roots for strong familial bonds like its tenacious fibres, sliced pear for good health, pomelo segments for reunion, a taro filled mantou for good luck and round mooncakes for the completeness and inevitable reunion of the moon, for the completeness and unity of family.

It was not that Shen Qingqiu actively denied their bond, but he rarely demonstrated it a blatantly as this, even on the Mid-Autumn Festivals of years past. It would be a regret that weighed heavily on his soul however, if this was the last Festival of Family he had to spend with his adoptive niece and he squandered the opportunity to show her that she was loved.

Still, no matter how sincerely he felt them, actively dealing with affectionate emotions being expressed via tears from Ning Yingying was not something he was prepared to attempt. Or particularly willing to. So he diverted her attention with a brief review of her performance in the spar, ending in a suggestion to secure at least a casual sparring partner in Liu Mingyan if she was able.

Ning Yingying nodded thoughtfully and commented that she and some other Qing Jing girls were going to go over to Xuan Shu to see their Festival display later in the evening and she hoped to see Liu Mingyan, as her fellow Head Disciple had recently drawn her spirit sword from the Wan Jian Halls, but Ning Yingying hadn't yet been able to congratulate her or ask its name.

He watched her, observing the brief flickers of longing in her fain pout. "Perhaps Yingying will be able to spar with Liu-shizhi with her own spirit blade, soon enough. She is swiftly approaching the point of readiness."

Ning Yingying blinked in shock, mouth gaping slightly before an ear-splitting grin stretched it into a half-moon taking up the majority of her face.

They talked a while longer, mostly Ning Yingying telling him of the Festival preparations of other Peaks that she and her friends who had remained in the Sect instead of visiting home intended to tour.

He watched her talk with vibrant animation, the thought resurfacing of her current blossoming, where once she had withered- strangled to a mere mask among that flower field of hundreds. She would not be thae same woman as that other world, and neither would Luo Binghe become the same as that Emperor of Three Realms, belonging to none.

They had both grown strong, one through honing vicious skill the other by harnessing his raw cultivated power. Though their paths had pulled them away from the closeness of their younger years, Shen Qingqiu could not help but be glad for the death of that near dependency, after all, it was a lesson that never stuck with Qi-ge and Xiao-Jiu and look at what became of them.

The memories of the soul shards had been lingering closer to the surface as the days shortened and shadows lengthened. To the point where seeing one disciple, Wei Zhi, lose concentration during the Fire Quelling session he requested of Jing Shen had set off a mid-level Qi Deviation. The plume of flame rising close to her face, startling the sly grin into a mask of shock and instinctive fear... in that other world, she was burned alive in the flame that swallowed Qing Jing Peak. There was no Fire Quelling training and no Jing Shen disciples to help, not when they were dealing with the same on their own Peak and throughout the whole Sect. There was no aid to come, just more corrosive Liquid Malice burning from above.

Most of his Hallmasters had been massacred by demons and monsters sieging the Sect, but his disciples had more frequently fallen to the Burnings. Not even their bodies were left behind to mark their passing. Only choking ash and charred black earth.

Emperor Luo Binghe had ensured that the Shen Qingqiu of that life had witnessed every angle of every moment of the Sacking of Qing Jing in perfect detail, every time he succumbed to his weakness and slept. A tapestry woven from the memories of every demon present. Of every instance of death, suffering and sacrilege. Luo Binghe himself had lit the fire in the Great Library.

His only comfort was the steps he had taken to ensure such a thing would never again come to pass.

Demonic flames were more difficult to Quell than mortal fire, but it even a weak attempt would have more effect than the nothing of water against that malicious heat. This way, should his disciples ever encountered the beast, the outcome was no longer a predetermined certain, excruciating death.

Though he was confident that it would never again come to pass from Luo Binghe's instigation.

He would ensure it.

.

.

.

As the sun progressed on its journey across the sky, Shen Qingqiu prepared his Bamboo House for his... visitor.

He took care with every choice he made, as each one would be under close scrutiny for the slightest suggestion of a veiled insult.

He lit orange and ylang ylang incense sticks and displayed them in elegantly crafted ceramic white lotus bloom holders. Scents for calming, refreshment and mood elevation, with the smooth floral base of sweet ylang ylang and fresh top notes of citrus orange.

The tea set he selected was a black lacquer set inlaid with mother of pearl lotus flowers and painted with cranes in the larger water scene on the pot. White lotuses for peace and modesty, unity, harmony and the transformation from evil to good, to remind his martial sister of their shared connection despite the animosity. Cranes for their shared (assumed) Immortality. Black... Qi Qingi would associate the colour with water for the scene and a mere product of the dark lacquer, but privately, Shen Qingqiu had chosen it for the colour's other associations- honour and death. For in this life, Shen Qingqiu's death was a foregone conclusion (had been in the soul shards life, his as that Shen Qingqiu, when he had allowed the clouds gathering at the mountain tops to obscure his vision from the truth of his roots, of his core. When he had once thought he could Ascend above those clouds and escape the mortal realm to divinity). The most he could do now was prepare and hope something in that translated to some honour written between the dripping scarlet staining his ledger.

He could hope, at least. If he could at least staunch the flow of poisonous spite and curdled dislike between himself and Qi Qingqi, it would be a step in the right direction.

In the set, he would brew Silver Tip Jasmine, with jasmine being a traditional tea to welcome guests but the scented Silver Tip leaves being among the finest blends he had in stock, received from a former disciple particularly skilled in music, who married into a family of consequence within the Imperial Palace. A light, floral blend that would not offend her standing within the sect or her noble roots. Though he knew she would not touch it, he also prepared a small dish of pomelo segments, for reunion, familial unity and a wish for prosperity. In this arena, it was appearances that mattered most. Anyway, it complimented the incense.

He had bathed after departing the morning training session and had stood for a long while, looking at the array of his robes, mind turning over each little detail, digging for deeper meaning behind every stitch, every shade, every layer.

The was no way to win, especially as he didn't know what exactly Qi Qingqi had demanded an audience for.

So he simply donned his typical Peak Lord robes, Qing Jing spring green and Cang Qiong white, with bamboo embroidery done in his own hand, as always.

But no fan.

No.

Qi Qingqi, for all her skill in court speak and manipulation, rouge and silks and clever words or coy looks, was an astonishingly forthright person at heart, much like her cousin reigning over Bai Zhan. If he wanted change then he would, to some point, need to be direct. No subtle speech emphasis or hidden messages in the movements of his fan. No hiding.

Almost exactly the time they had agreed, he felt her approach. She had arrived just late enough show her disrespect by the implication that she was comfortable making him wait, without being overt enough to warrant acknowledging it.

She entered, escorted in by Lan Yue, looking flawless as ever. Sable hair swept up in an elegant coil, secured by the red coral hibiscus hair crown she had worn since before he entered the Sect, complementing the cherry dark paint across the fullness of her lips. Her burning gaze caught on him immediately, the sweep of black kohl beneath each almond eye making the liquid darkness of her gaze that much more striking.

Were she a courtesan, she would undoubtedly be any brothel's highest earner, a rare beauty unseen by the common eye, shrouded by veils and whispered of in awe and envy behind ilk screens and painted fans. The sort of treasure only revealed to those willing to part with a noble's ransom to be served tea and perhaps hear music or play a game of mahjong.

Though had she even the faintest notion that Shen Qingqiu had placed the concepts of herself and prostitution in the same consideration, she would gut him, emasculate him and once he had bled out under her pitiless, void-like black eyes, she would vanish his body and invent a circumstance for his disappearance, the truth of his demise never to be discovered nor linked back to her in any way. Like this, Qi Qingqi was as ruthless as Shen Qingqiu himself and as much a brute as her cousin Liu Qingge. Almost the perfect equilibrium between strength and strategy, warrior and assassin, except she did enjoy setting her problems on fire more than was perhaps advisable.

The curtesy lines were exchanged and the atmosphere of the room was soon thick and oppressive.

Qi Qingqi held her cup but did not drink- a slight.

"This Lord has noted that many of Qing Jing's disciples are present in the Sect for the Mid-Autumn Festival. Most of most of Xian Shu's disciples have returned to their homes to reaffirm familial bonds."

He sipped his tea, regretting the decision to forego a fan dearly.

"That be as it may, many of Qing Jing's disciples hale from kin too distant to be visited within a reasonable frame of absence. The outer Sect disciples in particular are typically apprenticed from relatively isolated cultivator clans, such as Peak Lord Qi's escort, Lan Yue of the Gusu Lan Secular Clan."

"Indeed..." A single dark violet nail caressed a white lotus bloom on the cup. Thankfully, his ears were spared a sound of scraping of infernal tapping by Qi Qingqi's lack of habitual wearing of nail cages, unlike their martial sister Min Qingbao of the Artificer Peak. "And would Disciple Ning be among that number?" Black eyes watched him intently beneath the token facsimile of softness in the dark veil of half lowered lashes.

He met her gaze steadily, blinking placidly, the immutable calm easier for his genuine lack of understanding as to what exactly her challenge was. It also helped that he was quite tired from the morning spar and would like to soak the aches out of his bones in the Quiet Pool.

"Such interest in the private affairs of mere junior disciples, ones of another peak no less." He commented idly, then had to suppress a sigh at her immediate bristling. In a tone of plain neutrality, he asked directly, "For what purpose did Qi Qingqi visit this Shen Qingqiu? Surely it was not to discuss the social lives of our disciples over tea."

The airs of the Peak Lady of Fairies flowed away from her bearing like unfurling petals exposing a heart of molten flame. Sat across from Shen Qingqiu was a warrior woman forged in the heat of battle, Captain of the infamous Black Pearl who near single handedly defeated the World-Eater Sea Demons over treacherous waters to reclaim her ancestral clan territories. Whose eponymous peal she still wore studded in her right ear, a warning and a reminder- rumours whisper what they like, but Qi Qingqi had never been tamed. She was still the same Sea Wolf she had always been, merely adapted to solid ground.

Eyes as dark as the moonless night snared his focus like a riptide, the cold twist to her features promising a death of drowning.

The Burning Red Hibiscus spoke.

"A girl named Ning Yingying, junior of Qing Jing Peak. She used to appear frequently on my Peak, engaging with my girls in many fields and interests. Her visits suddenly stopped. The girl appears only rarely, each time with visible wounds . Then she comes to the Peak more regularly and stays for longer, as if she doesn't want to leave, or to have to return to the Peak of her colours. On the training fields, she seeks out martial combat only. She fights harder and more viciously than ever before, desperate to build her speed, her strength, her power. When my girls have asked, she says she's been receiving ' personal training' from her Peak Lord."

Fiver perfectly painted dark red nails curl about the dark navy hilt of her Hai Qiedao, a suggestion of heart blood yet to be sacrificed unto the unfeeling depths of the deep blue sea.

"Choose your words wisely, Shen Qingqiu, and explain to this Lord why a young girl is desperate to get strong enough to escape your Peak ."

Shen Qingqiu surged forward and snarled in her face, rage flaring like a geyser, incinerating all rational thoughts and careful plans. At the insinuation that he was-

To Ning Yingying -!

"Ning Yingying has been a disciple of Qing Jing since she was nine years old and I love her as my own daughter!"

Black eyes rounded like the pearl in her ear, painted lips parting on a breath, but Shen Qingqiu was not done.

"Her mother was my sworn sister and declared her child my niece, entrusted me to guide her through life's journey when she died. Until now, I have coddled her, cosseted and sheltered and as such made her unable to protect herself from life's dangers.

I realised my failure in upholding that promise, that I'd broken the trust by sister put in me, when I realised that my protection is as fickle a presence in Ning Yingying's future as the chance that my next inevitable Deviation will not be my permanent last.

Ning Yingying will be Head Hallmaster of my Peak, given time, but Zhang Yawen grows weary, and the years run too short. Ning Yingying was not prepared for this path, so I am finally doing my duty and preparing her for life ahead."

He was shaking, in the hands gripping the table, in the voice near screaming at the woman across from him. But he couldn't stop, as if a river dam had been dislodged and now all the filth and clogged emotion spikt forth in an unrelenting torrent.

"I asked her! I asked her. I told her of the hardships she would face, the pain and the difficulty she would have to overcome, but I told her she would be strong for it. Stronger than other paths I laid out for her, strong enough to protect herself.

And she. Said. Yes.

So she asked for support from a similar style and different opponent of Xian Shu Peak! She fights hard because she knows she can do better! She comes with injuries because she works so damn hard , every single day !"

He was half stood, rearing over the table, vision narrowed down to two points of perfect darkness, black moons trapped within white skies. His face was hot and burning, two lines of searing heat sliding over his cheeks. It might hurt, Shen Jiu couldn't tell. Something was wrong but he couldn't quite-

"I have not- did not..."

He shook his head, as is to dislodge the haze. His eyes blinked, and again, and caught on something- Spring green silk, stitched with bamboo stalks, like Yingying was wearing.

Yingying

Yingying-

His head napped up and clarity pierced like a lance of light through the mist, there and gone like a loosed arrow.

"And you come into my house and accuse me of raping my disciple."

In the deathly silence of the Bamboo House, he stood, panting, then collapsed back into his seat, sightless eyes roaming incessantly, shaking hands clenching and releasing, again and again. I'd never do that, never, never, never, never. I'm not like- I'd rather die before- I'm not like- Maybe his mouth was still moving or maybe the noise was just the screaming in his head, threads of thoughts spun around in his mind, tangling, snapping, snagging, frayed and disconnected and-

Pressure on his upper arms, turning him to one side, black moons and white skies, cherry dark lips- "Jiejie, I'm not-, I would never-, please "

A low female voice, smooth and soothing, "I know. I know you wouldn't. I know that know. I believe you. I'm sorry shixiong. I believe you. Shimei is here. I believe you. Come back, Shen-shixiong, come on. I believe you, come back."

Strong arm wrapped around him, hot palms settling on his back and suddenly emanating with heat. Heavy yang fire qi like magma circulated his spirit veins, sinking into his bones and searing the Deviating eddies back into normal currents, boiling him from within in the best way.

He gasped and half expected to see steam escape, but there was just rich violet silk, staining with dark red-brown splotches. It was the same when he blinked again, but the stains were slightly larger. It didn't matter.

The voice kept speaking, female and safe. Smooth and confident, low and without rush or panic, rolling like motion of a wave. It was alright, he could sleep, she would guard him. Keep him safe until he had to wake and face the world again.

He was safe and felt good. Aching and burning and freezing, but... distant. It was-

He was-

For the first time in so, so long, Shen Qingqiu was warm.

.

.

.

Eventually, day's light faded, painting the sky a masterpiece of colour in parting, soft scattered cloud clusters warmed with peach and gold, great wispy brushstrokes like horse's manes captured in majestic sweeps and coy flicks blushing rose and flushing red, the ever shifting myriad settling into sleepier colours as the sky darkened from halcyon to cobalt, silver stars twinkling in the richest depths teasing the furthest reaches of the horizon.

As the clouds draped themselves in dusky blues and demure purples, Shen Qingqiu blinked slowly, taking in the tiny, scattered beacons igniting into being as the Festival lanterns were lit across Cang Qiong, a sea of fireflies rousing from slumber.

After Qi Qingqi had stabilised him, she had leaned out the door and bellowed for the nearest disciple to fetch Mu Qingfang. She had sat close until he arrived and stayed close during the Healer's assessment, even stayed once he had left. Silently refilling his forgotten cup and setting it by the pills and tonic Mu Qingfang had inflicted upon him, pointedly moving the plate of orange segments closer to him.

Silent, but not cold. Not with the heat of her qi curling around his bones, stoked by Mu Qingfang's wood nature to a banked, long-lasting simmer. Like bathing in a hot spring.

She had spoken only once, when the medicine was taken and the tea drunk, when she eventually made to leave and paused in the doorway. Turning back to face him, Qi Qingqi had bowed, low and respectful, and apologised in low, subdued tones for her conduct towards 'Shen-shixiong', then she had left. Wishing him a well rest as she excused herself from the Bamboo House.

Now, he was seated on a secluded edge of a cliff, autumn colours decorating the forest at his back, his Sect spread out below him, a warm hearth of golden candle flames rejoicing in the love of family and friends. Of connections and togetherness.

He hoped they would never know a day where demonic living flame turned warmth deadly, laughter to screaming and reduced those connections to ashes scattered on the ground together. Cold and dead and forgotten.

Dry leaves crinkled beneath approaching footfalls. He didn't bother turning to look.

Someone sat down beside him with a sigh, slumping back to recline, feet dangled carelessly over the edge.

Shang Qinghua's head listed to one shoulder, clever brown eyes thrown into a contrast of dark shadow and flame as the lantern glow lit them with streaks of liquid bronze. "Company, shixiong?"

Shen Qingqiu blinked at him and turned back to the view. He didn't speak, but nudged the small plate of mooncake towards his apparent companion.

With a small grin, Shang Qinghua pulled out two wooden travel cups, a jar of osmanthus wine and a mooncake each. Sweet lotus paste for Shen Qingqiu and a five kernal nut for himself. How he had somehow managed to discover Shen Qingqiu's partiality towards sugar was an embarrassment for another day. One where he didn't feel quite so... distant.

They didn't speak of family, of people they were not sharing this time with. No questions were asked about those messy circumstances.

They didn't speak at all.

Merely sat together in companionable quiescence, sipping sweet wine from battered cups and eating snacks from mismatch sets looking at the glow of festivities from a distance beneath the full moon.

In the quiet of the moon, with the weight of the calm companionship beside him, wine heating his belly and qi curling through his meridians, the lights below seemed to glow just a little bit warmer.


Endnote:

yeah... some bad times for SQQ, but Was mostly just a roduct of bad timing- was already in an unsettled state about NYY, then unexpectedly Slammnig that bright red trigger button... yeah... not good, but recovering.

Speaking of- How did QQQ come off? I recently took a look at my Peak Lord list and noticed that most of them had very similar character settings (cool & cutting, very much like SQQ...), so I tried to shift things a little. Yes? No? I will accept any and all comments & criticisms, its ok~ 3

I read about her being a pirate in The Grand Unified Theory of SQQ and was inspired. Her sword is now called Hai Qiedao – ocean cutter, because im proud of the theme but probably wont get an opportunity to introduce it.