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Age 0

It all began when Xiao Jiu brought home a baby. 

No, it would be more accurate to say it began nine months before that, but Yue Qingyuan didn't like to think of that, of some faceless woman who had gotten her hands on Xiao Jiu often enough to produce him a child.

Point being, Xiao Jiu had entered the meeting twenty minutes late with a young babe bundled up in soft cloth, bound tightly to his chest. He had looked them all in the eyes, one after the other, even Yue Qingyuan himself, as he announced that this child's name was Shen Yuan, and that he was his. That there was no mother, and that Xiao Jiu would raise him himself. 

The room had erupted into chaos, trade agreements forgotten in the light of this strange news. Yue Qingyuan had been dumbstruck himself, not having said a word. 

The child, Xiao Yuan? No, that wouldn't go over well. Yuan'er had gotten startled by the loud noise, giving soft, weak little cries. Xiao Jiu had glared everyone into silence, all the while cooing softly to his babe. The dichotomy was startling, but that was Xiao Jiu for you. He had used to be so sweet when presenting him with half of his found food, even if he was still bloodied and scraped from ruthlessly fighting for it.

Yue Qingyuan hadn't expected to see him for weeks after that, had thought Xiao Jiu would focus on making his house and the whole peak a suitable environment for the babe. He certainly hadn't foreseen Xiao Jiu turning up in the dead of night, Yuan'er still carried with him, sleeping sweetly. 

"So? Is the Sect Leader going to let us in?" Xiao Jiu asked imperiously.

"Of course, come in," Yue Qingyuan instantly replied. 

He fussed around while Xiao Jiu took a seat, straightening things that weren't crooked and checking for any sharp edges Yuan'er might hurt himself on. How he would do that as a babe with little to no motor control, bound to Xiao Jiu's chest, Yue Qingyuan had no idea, but better safe than sorry. 

"Can this one get you anything, shidi? Tea, some snacks? Have you already eaten?"

"Yes," Xiao Jiu snapped. "I mean, no." Xiao Jiu scowled as he took a deep breath, tension forcefully releasing from his shoulders. "I mean, yes, I've eaten. I don't want anything."

"Then how may I help you, shidi?"

Xiao Jiu looked away as he laid a hand on Shen Yuan's head, brushing over his baby-soft hair in a nervous gesture. 

"I figured, you should see him at least once. Because of your role as Sect Leader. It's important to know the people in your sect."

There certainly wasn't a rule like that. There were so many new people brought onto Cang Qiong every year, servants and disciples, relatives, spouses, and yes, babies, that it would be very unrealistic to expect him to meet everyone. Yue Qingyuan's heart warmed at the idea that maybe Xiao Jiu just wanted him to know his family, even as he knew that that was far too optimistic a thought.

"It's my pleasure," Yue Qingyuan said warmly. 

Xiao Jiu unravelled the cloth binding Yuan'er to his chest, taking great care the child wouldn't get jostled or woken. 

He hadn't looked at the babe before, not really. Yue Qingyuan was... He knew himself, and he was not a very good person, not really the upstanding righteous leader everyone expected him to be. If this babe looked like a little Xiao Jiu, with some stranger's eyes, some stranger's mouth or nose or ears, he... well, he didn't really know what he'd do. Probably hate himself for ever thinking so harshly of an innocent babe who hadn't asked to be the manifestation of Yue Qingyuan's issues. 

But, oh -- Yue Qingyuan fell in love. Little Yuan'er, this perfect child, with his thin dark baby hairs, with Xiao Jiu's bright green eyes, with ten little fingers, so very small. And Yue Qingyuan didn't know whose chin that was, or who was the reason Shen Yuan's skin was already half a shade darker than his father’s when the sun hadn't had a chance to shine on him yet, but he found that really, he didn't care at all. 

He would throw his life down for Yuan'er just as he would do for Xiao Jiu.

Age 1

Shen Qingqiu hummed, tilting his head as he looked at the coloured bits of paper. Could he perhaps --?

And yes, with just a minor application of Qi the snippets began to move, dancing through the air much like the leaves Shen Qingqiu usually used this technique on.. 

Shen Yuan laughed at the bright colours, reaching out to try and catch them. His stubby baby-limbs weren't very conductive to this task, and he almost fell over multiple times. Each time, Shen Qingqiu caught him before he could hurt himself. 

After he tripped for the fifth time, Shen Qingqiu swooped him up into the air, settling him on his hip. His clever, clever child immediately took advantage of his greater height to grab a bright yellow bit of paper out of the air, giggling all the while.

He proudly showed it to Shen Qingqiu. It was shaped like a star, apparently, and only a little bit crumbled by Shen Yuan's small fingers. 

"Darling child," Shen Qingqiu whispered into his son's hair. "You're just like your father." Yue Qi had done the exact same thing whenever he had found a batch of pretty weeds, presenting them to him with a pleased expression on his face. 

"Self-absorbed," came an unwelcome voice from behind him. Shen Qingqiu tensed unwillingly. 

"Liu-shidi," Shen Qingqiu said with a pasted-on smile. "So you’ve finally deigned to return to Cang Qiong Sect again. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" And what can I do to make you leave? Shen Qingqiu did not want him here, but wasn't willing to risk a fight with A-Yuan so close. 

Liu Qingge frowned. “They said you -- I wasn’t sure if it was true.” He stared at A-Yuan like he was a never-seen-before monster. 

Shen Qingqiu shifted his child in his arms, hiding him away from Liu Qingge’s confused staring. His son was not a creature to be fought, thank you very much. 

“You’ve seen him, now get out,” Shen Qingqiu said coldly.

Liu Qingge did not leave. “And everyone is just alright with it?” 

“What.”

“Well, it’s just… Should you really be the one raising him?” Liu Qingge asked, wrinkling his nose.

Shen Qingqiu was silent for a moment. “Pray I just misheard you.”

“You are not exactly someone who would take good care of a child,” the brute said, doubling down like the idiot he was. “Did no-one else volunteer?”

“What, someone like you?” Shen Qingqiu said scornfully. 

“No, I don’t mean --”

“Get out.”

“I just meant --”

“Get out!”

A-Yuan let out a soft whimper, scrunching his face up in preparation for what would no doubt be a mighty cry. 

“Now look what you’ve done,” Shen Qingqiu hissed as he gently bounced A-Yuan up and down, startling him into forgetting his woes. A-Yuan watched with wide eyes for a moment, then gave a surprised little laugh. 

“Yes, yes, that’s Liu Qingge,” Shen Qingqiu cooed. “He’s very stupid, it’s best you learn this early on.”

“Hey,” Liu Qingge said, annoyed.

“You’re still here?” Shen Qingqiu said coolly. 

Age 2 

Little Shen Yuan was poking at a wooden puzzle, eyebrows pulled together in concentration as the child tried to pull apart the interlocking pieces. The expression was strangely familiar, but Mu Qingfang couldn't pin down where he had seen it before.

"A-Yuan?" Qi Qingqi called, a grin on her face. 

Shen Yuan looked up, frown falling away in place of the almost permanent bright smile he wore. No, one thing was certain, he had not inherited his bearing from Shen-shixiong. "Yes?"

"Auntie Qi has a treat for you," Qi Qingqi crooned, wiggling a jujube enticingly. Shen Yuan reached out, picking up the fruit with eager fingers. 

"No!" Shen Qingqiu stole the sweet fruit away before little A-Yuan had a chance to put it in his mouth. "We don't eat that, A-Yuan, remember?"

"Come on, Shen-shixiong, let him have it. Sweet things are important for children, we don't want him to grow up with a sour face like yours," Qi Qingqi pouted. 

"Not that it's any of your business, but he's allergic," he snapped. His voice turned soft when he turned to Shen Yuan. "If you still want to try it, you'll have to wait until your Cultivation is a little stronger. You will be able to start tolerating them then. So become strong, alright? For jujubes.”

Shen Yuan stared at him, then gave a grave nod. “For jujubes," he echoed solemnly. 

Shen Qingqiu's approving nod was just as stoic.

"Ah, who could have known Shen-shixiong actually knew how to interact with children? Or, child singular, this one supposes," Qi Qingqi whispered in Mu Qingfang's ear.

"That same level of cultivation will also allow you to withstand several poisons," Shen Qingqiu lectured. "Even though the effects will be mitigated, some reactions will still occur if the poison is strong enough. Common side effects might include bleeding from the eyes, ears and nose, strained breathing --"

Qi Qingqi raised her delicately plucked eyebrows. "Forget what I just said."

Shen Yuan was listening intently, his little nose scrunched up as he -- Oh. Oh my. So that was where he had recognized his expressions from. 

Mu Qingfang cleared his throat. "Shen-shixiong? Might I speak to you in private for a moment?"

Shen Qingqiu glowered at him for interrupting his lesson with his child, but if Mu Qingfang was right, this couldn't be allowed to stand. 

The second they were out of sight, Mu Qingfang raised the strongest privacy barrier he could muster.

"Does Zhangmen-shixiong know that Shen Yuan is his child?"

By the way Shen Qingqiu abruptly paled, no he did not. 

"How did you figure it out?" Shen Qingqiu asked, voice strangled. His hands made their way into his sleeves, where he no doubt had weapons hidden. Hopefully it was more as a self-soothing behaviour than as actual intent to cause Mu Qingfang harm. 

Mu Qingfang hummed. "Did you know that the Sect's medical records are passed from one Qian Cao Peak Lord to another? No matter how useless or unnecessary, we never throw anything away."

"Speak clearly," Shen Qingqiu hissed. 

"I must be aware of every single health issue that might possibly occur to Cang Qiong's high-level members, no matter how small," Mu Qingfang explained. "And the Sect Leader -- he most of all. Yue Qi had a minor reaction to a dish containing jujubes when he had been new within the Sect. His cultivation had still been weak, so he was prescribed medicine and a note was made in his file."

Shen Qingqiu paled even further. Strange, Mu Qingfang hadn't thought that was possible.

"That could be a coincidence," his shixiong said. "Plenty of people can be allergic, it's proof of nothing. You know nothing." 

"Shixiong, his face," Mu Qingfang said, almost gentle. He didn't have to say any more. If he had seen it, then there was no way Shen Qingqiu hadn't noticed. Say what you want about the man, but nobody could say he neglected his child. 

Shen Qingqiu set his jaw. "And what if it were true? What would you do?" 

"I would update his medical records," Mu Qingfang answered mildly. "And I would examine Yue-shixiong's file for any inheritable health issues."

"And that's it?" Shen Qingqiu said, eyes flinty.

"That's it."

Shen Qingqiu stared at him for a long while, before he let his hands fall from his sleeves. 

"That better be it." He turned around and stepped into a brisk walk. "Come on. A-Yuan has been alone with Qi-shimei long enough, no doubt she must be attempting to corrupt his mind."

Mu Qingfang hummed again and made to follow. Nobody had gotten stabbed, and he would be able to fill some annoying holes in his files. Overall, this had been a great success. 

Age 5

“Can you tell me the story again?”

“Again?” Shen Qingqiu raised an eyebrow as he pulled at the blankets covering his son, smoothing out the wrinkles. “I think you’d know this story better than me at this point.”

Shen Yuan looked up at him with great sad shimmering eyes, pouting woefully. Shen Qingqiu wasn’t fooled for a moment. 

“Alright, alright,“ Shen Qingqiu acquiesced with a put upon sigh. “I suppose I could tell it one more time.” Good behaviour was to be rewarded, after all. How else would A-Yuan learn how to put on a pitiful face if the situation called for it?

“There was once a wretched, lonely man,” Shen Qingqiu began, the words well-worn on his tongue.

He had power, immortality, and riches. He never went hungry, and was never cold. He had everything a man could ever want, except one thing.

This man didn’t have many friends, or really any at all. Admittedly this was for a good reason -- he was bitter, and cruel, and very hard to get along with. He didn’t particularly want friends either. They would only disappoint you, he thought.

So he was alone, and perfectly happy with it, he told himself.

One day, when he had just finished fighting a vicious monster, he --

“A twice-spined fire muskrat,” A-Yuan piped up.

“Who is telling this story again?”

-- when he had just finished fighting a twice-spined fire muskrat, with its bustling flaming fur and long, venomous teeth, he found himself standing in a strange little clearing. It was almost completely empty, not a thing growing in it save for a single flower. 

It was a deep purple, glowing softly in the evening light. It seemed almost as if it were calling to the man to come closer. Cautiously, he treaded forward, sword kept bared and ready to cut. 

It smelled strangely, the man noted when he paused in front of it. Almost like milk, not a hint of floral sweetness present. And didn’t that sound familiar? Yes, he had heard of this flower before, in his long and intensive studies of spiritual flowers. 

The longer he thought about it, the more he remembered. It bloomed very rarely, as only one could exist at the same time. It would grow its single fruit, taking up a unique form that it would keep until the end of its lifecycle, when its next form would emerge from the decomposed remains of its last fruit. 

The man huffed and turned around. He’d inform his martial siblings and be done with it. They probably had some endangered animal they wanted to clone -- let them take on the gigantic task of supplying it with fresh Qi for nine months in order for it to take on a definitive form. 

No, he wasn’t interested in doing it himself. Far too much effort, if you asked him. 

But still, he wondered that night as he laid awake; If you fed it with the Qi of a human, what would happen?

Ah, what did it matter. He didn’t have time for that anyways.

So how was it that, even a week after the man had returned to the mountain he lived on, that he still hadn’t told anyone about the flower? It could be groundbreaking, the event of the decade! 

And no one knew.

It was in the dead of night that he packed a bag, enough to tide him over for the weeks he would be able to spend away without questions being raised. It’d be long enough for the plant to take form after the Qi he would feed it. Just to see if it would work. Innocent, scholarly curiosity, that was all it was, he promised himself.

And when after those weeks a little bud had begun to grow? Well, it confirmed his theory, but he couldn’t really be sure it wouldn’t just cease growing at some point. It was for the best he would return, just to check. 

So he returned, again and again, always telling himself this would be the last time, even when under his careful hands the fruit began to grow larger and larger.

“Who was the other person?”

"Other person? What do you mean, A-Yuan?"

"I read about those flowers. They need bits of two people."

"I -- You read too much," Shen Qingqiu said. Then he heard himself saying it, and continued, "No, don't listen to me, more knowledge is always good, especially when the people in authority don't want you to know it."

"So my other parent? Are they dead?"

Shen Qingqiu let out a deep breath. "They might as well be."

It was even true, in a way. There was very little of the street rat Yue Qi visible in the mighty and powerful Yue Qingyuan.

The fruit didn’t need much of a second person, just a little bit, enough to make sure the child growing wouldn’t be a complete copy of their only parent. 

Shen Qingqiu cleared his throat. He had never told that part before, and for good reason. A-Yuan didn’t have to know that. If he never knew that there was supposed to be someone else caring for him, then he could never feel abandoned by them either, right? 

Somehow, the man didn't even know how, he had come to stand in front of the purple blossoms with a hairbrush he had stolen a long time ago from the man he had once thought he would share his life with, remnants of Qi still lingering in the thistles. It wasn’t much, but it would do. It would work.

He didn’t know what he would do if it didn’t.

“And the fruit grew, ripening into a rich pink-red,” Shen Qingqiu said, his voice smoothing out as he returned to a part of the story he had told before, many, many times. “And when the time came, the man reached out to cut the fruit off the plant, but what fell into his hands wasn’t a fruit but a young babe, still wet with the sweet juices.”

“That’s me.” 

“That’s you.”

Shen Qingqiu pressed a kiss to his son’s forehead. “But even little plant-children need to sleep. You don’t get your energy from the sun, hm?”

“That’d be cool,” Shen Yuan said sleepily.

Shen Qingqiu found himself smiling as he ran his fingers through A-Yuan’s hair one last time before he stood up to leave.

“Good night, A-Yuan.”

“Good night, Baba.”

Age 7

“I deserved to know about this,” a voice floated over to Shen Yuan’s hiding place.

“Well, and I deserved to know about that sword of yours.”

“Ah… We both could have communicated a little better, hm?”

“Pssh.”

Shen Yuan listened with wide eyes. Was this it? Did one of his machinations finally take hold? 

He wondered which it was that finally did it. The Word-Bound Flower of Truthfulness? The secretions of the Two-Faced Gecko, or the captured call of the Many Eyed Clouded Leopard? 

“That should have been it,” his Baba said. “Why haven’t we been released yet?”

Ah, the Heavenly Thread of Revelations. That one had been a bitch to steal from the vaults of Hui Fu Peak. He still wasn’t entirely certain that Ji Qingji hadn’t just planted it in an easily accessible space for him, as fed up with his parents' avoidance of conversation as he was.

“I told you the truth,” Yue Qingyuan said shakily.

“I believe you,” Baba replied, voice soothing. “But it must not have been the whole truth.”

Silence.

“Is there anything else you want to tell me?” Shen Qingqiu asked coaxingly.

“I didn’t want to -- you shouldn’t feel obliged…”

More silence.

“Come on… Qi-ge?”

Oh shit, Baba was pulling out the big guns.

“I’ve wanted -- For a long time now I’ve been… Xiao Jiu, please .”

“You can say it.”

“You’ve already figured it out, haven’t you?”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear you say it.”

“...”

“Don’t I deserve to hear it?” Shen Qinqgiu asked, voice a little hurt. “After all this, do you really think I’d turn you down?”

“Xiao Jiu.”

Oh, so that was what was going on. This was -- beyond his greatest expectations. He figured they’d end up with like, visitation rights. Going over to Qiong Ding for the weekend and double the presents on his birthday. Not this.  

“Qi-ge,” his Baba said breathily, and Shen Yuan decided it was about time to leave them to it. 

Age 11

“Get back here!” 

Luo Binghe turned around just in time for a frog to land right in the middle of his face, instinctively catching it as it tried to hop away. The disciple robes he was scrubbing clean dropped into the clear pond, forgotten in a moment.

Yuan-shixiong came running around the corner, breathing heavily. He looked wildly around the clearing, his eyes coming to rest on the frog in Binghe’s hands. 

“You’ve got him!” Yuan-shixiong said cheerfully. “Thank you! He’s been trying to escape me the whole day already, and I really thought this would be the time I finally lost him.”

Yuan-shixiong held out his empty cupped hands, rambling all the while. “He’s from Zhi Jue Peak, but the tests they wanted to do were done already so I could have it! He’s not very dangerous, and he’s only got a mild paralytic secretion on his skin, but it shouldn’t affect you. He’s just very good at running away. But you caught him!”

He gave Luo Binghe a brilliant smile just as Binghe reached over to deposit the frog in Yuan-shixiong’s grasp, so bright that Binghe fumbled where he stood and accidentally let the frog go too early. 

Yuan-shixiong gasped, grasping the thin air. They both tried to step forward at the same time, stumbling into each other and falling into the pond in a mess of limbs. 

Luo Binghe emerged sputtering, spitting out a thin stream of water. Yuan-shixiong coughed twice, scanning the clear water intently without sparing a thought to how he was soaking wet. “Did you see it, Binghe?” 

Almost -- there!

“I’ve got it!” Luo Binghe snatched the frog up, beaming proudly.

“Luo Binghe,” a sharp voice came from behind them. Binghe froze where he stood, the frog taking the opportunity to jump out of his grasp for the second time, promptly hopping far, far away from them. Binghe didn’t even try to pick it up again. 

“Shizun,” he said as he turned to meet the tall figure of his teacher standing on the side of the pond. “How may this disciple be of assistance?”

“Follow me,” the man spat out between tightly-pressed lips. 

Yuan-shixiong’s wide eyes skipped between the two of them. “Baba?” he questioned, voice unsure.

Shen Qingqiu relaxed his shoulders in a deliberate motion. “It’s nothing, A-Yuan,” he said with a thin smile. “He’ll be free to return in a minute or so. I just need to talk to him about something.”

It’s alright, Luo Binghe mouthed to his Shixiong, who finally nodded uncertainty. 

A shiver ran down Binghe’s back that had nothing to do with his cold, wet robes as he climbed out of the pond and followed Shizun, the man leading him away to where Yuan-shixiong couldn’t hear them.

“Luo Binghe,” the man said darkly. “What do you think you were doing, looking at my son when his clothes were wet?”

… what?

"I know your type," Shen Qingqiu hissed. "Like rabid dogs, nipping on the heels of your prey, devouring them until there's nothing left. You will not get an opportunity to hunt A-Yuan, you hear me?"

"Shen-shixiong is only eleven," Binghe said, not understanding. Binghe was fourteen, which was a far more mature age. Eleven was practically still a baby!

Shen Qingqiu sneered at Binghe. "Older man than you have tried. They lay buried where no one will find their remains. Not," he levelled his fan at him, "that there is much left to find.”

Binghe swallowed. People really had --?

“Do take care that you won't have to join them," Shen Qingqiu said silkily.

That was not hard for Binghe to promise. Yuan-shixiong was far too young for those kinds of feelings, and for that matter, so was he. 

Age 14

Shen Qingqiu had thrown Luo Binghe down. Had cast him away, pushed him out -- and it hadn't hurt half as much as his parting words had.

"I can't believe I allowed you around my son."

It wasn't so much that Binghe was surprised at Shen Qingqiu's actions. He'd heard tales from the eldest disciples about the punishments he'd call for when he had still been a fresh Peak Lord. About how the only reason Shen Qingqiu had ceased the beatings was because his son would cry every time someone else was hurt -- and it didn't matter how well you could try and hide it, Shen Yuan always knew. 

It hadn't mattered to Shizun that a child was crying when it wasn't his son, his own blood. But no, A-Yuan didn't like it, so he would stop.

Luo Binghe would be far more bitter about Shen Qingqiu's sudden turn from apathy if he didn't understand it so well. Shen Yuan made you want to do anything and everything to keep him cheerful, to stay high in his estimations.

Shixiong had only cried once while Binghe was near. A spotted horse-seal, still young and spry, had to be put down after a dangerous beast had gotten free from its enclosure and mauled it. Shen Yuan had sat with the animal, had let it lay its head in his lap and brushed the poor thing's thin fur as a senior disciple injected a painless poison. He had tried so hard to be stoic, borrowing his Baba's impassive face, but collapsed the moment the Zhi Jue disciples were out of sight. 

He'd sobbed into Binghe's shoulder, shuddering under the arms Binghe slung over his back. Luo Binghe still vividly remembered the feeling of his shixiong's burning tears as they soaked through his robes. Minutes later he had withdrawn and wiped his tears away, not looking Binghe in the face, and that was that. The next morning he seemed as upbeat as he normally was, and he never cried again where Binghe could see. 

Yuan-shixiong was so bright, so caring. Would he be able to tolerate the sight of Binghe as he was now, splattered in blood, most of it not his own? With his predator-sharp teeth and pointed ears, the red eyes Binghe had seen reflected in a shallow pool? 

No. There was no way that Binghe would trust himself to appear before Shixiong as he was now. 

He would become strong. He would become cunning, rich, and influental, and most of all, he would learn how to put away his more... distasteful characteristics. 

Age 16

"You look upset." And thin, and pale, and sickly in that pretty way that a grieving wife would be, but Shang Qinghua thought saying that wouldn't go over well.

"Oh no?" Shen Yuan drawled. "I have no fucking clue about why that could possibly be."

"You don't have to be so sarcastic about it, bro."

"I mean, it's not like my best friend is currently suffering in the Abyss," Shen Yuan bit out.

"I thought I was your best friend!"

"And it's not like I have to pretend I don't know Baba was the one to push him in, or that I even know he is still alive!" Shen Yuan said while waving his fan around in wide uncoordinated motions.

Shang Qinghua laughed nervously. "Let's calm down a bit, shall we?"

"Like, it's not even that I'm that mad at Baba, you know?" Shang Qinghua didn't know. "I was always aware he would have to push him down, no matter how much nicer he has become over the past years."

"Haha, yes, nice, that's the word..." Shang Qinghua mumbled. Shen Yuan gave no sign of listening to him. 

"And like, father isn't the only one who refuses to discuss past events when someone could get hurt by talking about it, even when you really should. Talk, that is." Shen Yuan looked at him with crazed eyes. "It's all the trauma you gave them. So I even get why he would lie! Doesn't make it any easier though."

"I feel like I should get paid for my role as your therapist."

"And every night I dream of my dads both being made into human sticks, so I haven't been sleeping well, and then Baba gets all guilty, and then father starts to make himself small and non-objectionable, and I thought I fixed them being all sad when I got them together! Where is the guaranteed happy ending!"

Shang Qinghua sighed. "That's fairytales. This here was designed to be an angst fest, of course people are still messed up."

Shen Yuan finally looked at him, for the first time today. "Well, it sucks," he said bluntly.

"It does suck," Shang Qinghua said emphatically. 

It was silent for a while. 

"So you got it out of your system now, bro?" Shang Qinghua finally piped up. 

"I... Yeah. Thank you for letting me rant," Shen Yuan said as he rubbed his eyes. "I think I needed that."

"No problem."

Age 19

Asking Shen Qingqiu for his son's hand was meant to be a taunt. It was a regular fantasy during his years in the Abyss -- Shen Qingqiu would lose no matter what he did. If he said no, as he assuredly would, Shen Yuan would be offended by his attempt to tell him how to live his life, throwing him into conflict with his beloved son. If he said yes, then... Well, that didn't matter, seeing as it never would happen.

It was certainly never meant to be real. 

That resolution only lasted as long as it took for Luo Binghe to see Yuan-shixiong again. 

It had been a chance encounter that had brought them together again. Luo Binghe had been taken off guard, not aware any cultivator would be at that little village he was recuperating his strength in after conquering large swathes of the Demonic Realm. 

Luo Binghe still didn't know why Yuan-shixiong had been there. It was not in Cang Qiong's territory, nor were there any particularly interesting beasts or miracle flowers around. Yuan-shixiong had never volunteered the information, and Binghe hadn't dared to question his amazing fortune.

Yuan-shixiong had at once started fussing over him with worried eyes, checking his wounds again and again, no matter that Luo Binghe had been up and running within days with his demonic constitution. 

Even after Luo Binghe had been healed entirely with not even a scar to show for it, Yuan-shixiong had not left. And well, it was not like you would hear Binghe urge him on to go. His Shixiong had just turned nineteen, if Binghe's memory was correct, and puberty had been very, very kind to him. 

Luo Binghe's promise from years ago not to look at his shixiong that way was a little harder to keep when Shen Yuan kept looking at him with those sparkly eyes, so genuinely excited over every show of strength. When he kept putting his hands on Binghe like he couldn't help himself, and then frustrating Binghe endlessly by never following through. 

So yes, it was meant to be fake. An attempt at provocation, to get back at Shen Qingqiu in a mental way rather than the physical torture he would use on anyone else. His beloved shixiong wouldn't have deserved to see his Baba like that.

But in hindsight? There was a reason this particular fantasy had always been his favourite, and it had nothing to do with Shen Qingqiu, and everything with Shen Yuan.

Age 21

Their wedding was shaping up to be beautiful, and Shen Qingqiu felt almost personally offended by that.

That was his child. His flesh and blood, his spirit and soul. He had raised him from infancy, taught him about this world, about its people and beasts and everything . He had been there to soothe his every little hurt, no matter how minor, even when his mind insisted that pain was the only way to grow. 

His son deserved better than a man who Shen Qingqiu still sometimes worried only married his son in a twisted form of revenge.

"A-Jiu," a voice came from behind him.

Shen Qingqiu did not turn to meet him, keeping his eyes on the happy pair. "Don't tell me to cheer up and laugh."

"I wouldn't," Qi-ge said as he took his place beside him. "I admit I'm a little nervous too," he said in a whisper.

"I'm not nervous."

"Of course not," Yue Qingyuan said fondly. "I'm just saying it would be reasonable if you were. That's our child, leaving the nest. It seems like only yesterday he was still tripping over his own legs."

"He's so young," Shen Qingqiu fretted. "We weren't that young!"

Yue Qingyuan took his hand in his own. "I would have married you far earlier if Fate had allowed it."

Shen Qingqiu briefly glanced up to him, then looked away with burning cheeks. "How often do I have to tell you not to flirt in public?"

Yue Qingyuan laughed softly. "Just once more, it seems."

They were silent for a moment as they watched their son swirl with his new husband over the empty dance floor. Shen Qingqiu's breath caught when A-Yuan got dipped low, but the little beast didn't drop him.

"You worry about them."

Shen Qingqiu scoffed. "Who wouldn't."

Yue Qingyuan rubbed his thumb over the back of his hand. "I don't think you need to. That young man clearly adores him. He'd sooner cut off his hand than raise it to him in anger."

"Does he really love him?" Shen Qingqiu asked sardonically. “I sure can’t see it.”

Yue Qingyuan pressed a kiss to the side of his head. "Remember what we talked about? Just because it’s a little harder for you to see, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. Trust me on this."

Shen Qingqiu tried to hold onto his tension, but quickly deflated. "Hm. Alright," he grumbled. He scowled up at Yue Qingyuan. "But if this does end in tears, I reserve the right to say I told you so."

"I never assumed otherwise," Yue Qingyuan said with a smile.

“And I’ll stab him.”

“You would be entirely justified.” He held his hand out to Shen Qingqiu. "Now, won't Xiao Jiu dance with me?"

Shen Qingqiu rolled his eyes, but took Yue Qingyuan's hand. The corners of his lips raised as together they joined their son on the dancefloor.