Chapter Text
It starts like this:
“Liu-shixiong,” Shang Qinghua, having been granted the dubious pleasure of transmigrating into his own novel, says to the Baizhan Peak disciple, “Shen-shixiong wasn’t aiming at you. There was a demon behind you.”
Liu Qingge casts a cold look at the battlefield around them. It’s a narrow mountain path; many corpses have fallen into the ravine. There’s no proof of Shang Qinghua’s words, and Shen Qingqiu would never admit to the deed.
Liu Qingge snorts.
It’s a good while later that Liu Qingge finds himself running into trouble with Shen Qingqiu at his side again.
They accompany Qiongding Peak’s head disciple Yue Qingyuan to retrieve a mysterious artefact from a remote mountain range close to the demon realm. Liu Qingge hasn’t forgotten Shang Qinghua’s remark, and perhaps he’s watching Shen Qingqiu a bit closer than before - but the other remains as aloof and cold as always.
He doesn’t go out of his way to assist Liu Qingge when they encounter a flock of demons in the mountains.
On the other hand, Liu Qingge doesn’t exactly need assistance.
The demons offer no challenge, and under Yue Qingyuan’s coaxing, the three form a reluctant alliance against the environment. More than any lurking demons, the bitterly cold winds and frost-covered rocks threaten them. Only Yue Qingyuan’s cultivation is high enough for the cold not to faze him, Liu Qingge and Shen Qingqiu huddle in their warmest cloaks at opposite ends of the small ice cave they have taken shelter in.
Outside, the winds howl like dying beasts.
“Shen-shidi,” Yue Qingyuan says quietly, and Liu Qingge watches from half-closed eyes as Yue Qingyuan slides his own outer cloak from his shoulders. “Take this.”
Shen Qingqiu roughly pushes the hand aside. “I don’t need it,” he says, despite the blue tint creeping onto his lips.
Where are your manners, Liu Qingge wants to ask him. He understands pride, but this is foolish. Of the three of them, Shen Qingqiu’s cultivation is the lowest, and his cloak the thinnest. He ought to gratefully accept - but kindness, Liu Qingge knows, is lost on that stubborn fool.
“We’re leaving you behind if you can’t move on your own tomorrow,” Liu Qingge warns, settling in and closing his eyes. The storm won’t abate before morning; he intends to get some rest.
“Same to you,” Shen Qingqiu hisses.
“Shidi…” Yue Qingyuan mutters. He sounds disappointed, though it is not clear at whom. Neither Liu Qingge nor Shen Qingqiu acknowledge him.
As he borrows deeper into his fur-lined cloak, Liu Qingge allows his mind to wander. He doesn’t understand how Yue Qingyuan puts up with Shen Qingqiu’s acerbic tongue and ungrateful attitude. Qiongding Peak’s head disciple may be a kind soul, but he is no pushover - so why would he accept the abuse Shen Qingqiu spews, why would he tolerate someone so crude at his side?
Liu Qingge falls asleep to these spinning thoughts.
Due to this, he doesn’t immediately register waking up.
“Xiao Jiu?” Yue Qingyuan softly calls, somewhere far away.
Liu Qingge wonders if he is dreaming; the cave is basked in dim, pre-dawn light and Yue Qingyuan has pulled a slender form onto his lap. His own outer robe is gone, cast across the person lying on the ground, and Yue Qingyuan strokes their hair.
Liu Qingge stares for a long moment. There’s a strange, raw tenderness to Yue Qingyuan’s movements, a grieved tranquility to him that makes Liu Qingge afraid to breathe - the slightest shift will shatter this dream.
Almost hidden by Yue Qingyuan’s body and the fabric spread over him, Liu Qingge only catches sight of Shen Qingqiu’s face on accident. The Qingjing Peak disciple sleeps, a rare expression of peace on his features while his hair spreads like strands of black silk over the frozen cavern floor. He looks like the dolls Liu Qingge’s sister loves, both elegant and fragile.
Something rumbles outside.
Liu Qingge sits up, reaches for his sword, but nothing enters the cave. When he glances back to his companions, Yue Qingyuan sits some distance from Shen Qingqiu, the other starting to wake. Yue Qingyuan’s cloak remains over him, and Liu Qingge witness how in an unguarded moment Shen Qingqiu recognizes the fabric and a complicated, wistful expression crosses his face. Then the emotion vanishes; Shen Qingqiu climbs to his feet.
He returns the cloak without a word of thanks yet Yue Qingyuan’s eyes still light up. Liu Qingge silently shakes his head at the two of them - he doesn’t understand it, but he understands there is a mess between them.
They set out and continue their trip homebound.
Yue Qingyuan makes no mention of it, but he must have stayed up through the night - his reactions are somewhat delayed, and at times he stares into the distance, lost in thought. Their speed slows, though Liu Qingge decides against mentioning it - they still ought to reach Cangqiong Mountain in two or three days at the latest.
That night, they set up camp in a forest.
Later, Liu Qingge will wonder how they dared to be so foolish. All three of them know they’re not far from human settlements, know the area is not considered safe. Liu Qingge is distracted, and perhaps slightly tired. Yue Qingyuan exhausted from staying up through the night before, and Shen Qingqiu worn out from a day of travel. Neither of them is willing to admit it.
When a group of bandits attacks, this proves to be their undoing.
Ordinarily, even if the three of them are disciples only, a group of bandits poses no challenge to them. However, the bandits have prepared their ambush well. A group of ten attacks the three disciples; shouting, waving swords and axes, forcing the three to split apart. Liu Qingge has a moment to wonder - sure, the bandits have surprise on their side, but do they truly expect to be able to take them?
Shen Qingqiu is the one to spot a hidden bowman aiming at Yue Qingyuan’s back. He throws his sword to slice the arrow just as Yue Qingyuan whirls around.
Their eyes meet and relief flashes across Shen Qingqiu’s face. Yet before Yue Qingyuan can thank him, the error of Shen Qingqiu’s move becomes apparent. When he cast his sword, he left himself defenseless. And for all his cultivation, he is a slender, teen-aged boy.
A bandit leaps at him from behind, loops a length of spirit-binding rope around his throat. Shen Qingqiu’s hands fly up, just as the bandit jerks the noose closed.
“Shidi!” Yue Qingyuan roars, eyes wide and frightened.
Liu Qingge, on the other side of the clearing, turns to look - but he’s too far away to do anything.
Shen Qingqiu opens his mouth, but the rope around his throat tightens; no sound emerges. A strong arm wraps around his torso, pinning his arms to his chest and lifts his feet of the ground.
The expression on Yue Qingyuan’s face makes Liu Qingge’s blood freeze. His shixiong reaches for Xuansu, the gleaming blade unsheathes a little -
“Stop right there!” the bandit shouts. He threateningly pulls at the rope in his hand; driving it into the vulnerable skin of Shen Qingqiu’s throat. A little stronger and that thin rope will break through skin and the blood vessels underneath.
Liu Qingge’s movements slow. Yue Qingyuan halts, terror on his face.
“Good,” the bandit comments.
“No!” Shen Qingqiu gasps, wriggling against the bandit’s firm hold on him despite his slowly purpling face. Even at a distance Liu Qingge sees the desperation in his movements. Even as the bandit jerks at the ropes around Shen Qingqiu’s throat again, the other forces out a garbled “Run! Get aw -”
“Shidi -” Yue Qingyuan begins, but another bandit sneaks up at him. And Liu Qingge doesn’t know if his shixiong allows it, or if he is too disturbed to notice. The second bandit lands a hard blow against the side of Yue Qingyuan’s head, and his body folds, dropping motionlessly onto the ground.
“No!” Shen Qingqiu shouts. “You bastards, what did you -” Abruptly he twists like a fish, disregarding the rope cutting into his skin, even trying to bite at the arm holding him. The bandit only tightens the loop, and Liu Qingge watches his struggles weaken, until Shen Qingqiu, too, hangs from his captor’s grip, face tinged blue and bloody marks forming around his throat.
Liu Qingge’s grip on his sword’s hilt tightens, but five blades point at his throat already.
“Drop the sword, kid,” a bandit orders. With Yue Qingyuan unconscious and Shen Qingqiu passed out, all Liu Qingge can do is comply.
The bandits drag the three of them to their base; an abandoned house in the middle of the woods. It must have been an inn once, judging by its size, though the three Cangqiong disciples are taken to a shack on the side. Trussed up in immortal-binding cable with their swords taken away, there is nothing they can do.
Liu Qingge bears it stoically. They need to wait for an opportune moment, now. Once the bandits let their guard down, they will be able to escape.
Shen Qingqiu, once he awakens, shuffles over to Yue Qingyuan. “Shixiong? Shixiong?” he asks, nudging their unconscious leader as good as he can with his arms bound.
Looking over, Liu Qingge admits that Yue Qingyuan doesn’t look good. Blood covers half of his face, and his brows are furrowed in pain. He hasn’t woken either - the hard blow to his head, coupled with earlier exhaustion, may not have done him well. When he fails to react, Shen Qingqiu struggles to his feet. He pays no attention to Liu Qingge but stumbles to the door and starts kicking it.
“Hey! Hey! You bastards!” he yells, disregarding how hoarse his voice is. The ropes left a necklace of angry purple bruises, and Liu Qingge can’t help stare.
“What on earth are you doing?” he asks, bemused at the racket. They need to lie low!
“Somebody fucking come! One of your hostages is dying! Greedy bastards, fucking come!” Shen Qingqiu shouts, and eventually there are footsteps. The man who wrenches the door open look furious.
“The fuck’s going on?” he demands. There’s a knife in his hand, and Liu Qingge tenses.
“We need medicine,” Shen Qingqiu demands. “We -”
“The fuck?!” the bandit bursts out, and kicks Shen Qingqiu. The boy goes down hard with nothing to stop his fall. “The hell you think you are?! Demanding medicine! What’s next, maybe you want some fried noodles while you’re at it? And a nice bed, too?!”
Shen Qingqiu struggles upright; blood trickles from the corner of his mouth. “No,” he forces out, teeth gritted against pain. “But this one -” and he nods to Yue Qingyuan - “will die if you don’t treat him, and dead hostages don’t get you any money.”
Liu Qingge pauses. He is fairly certain Yue Qingyuan’s injuries are not that serious, but the sheer ferocity on Shen Qingqiu’s face makes him wonder. Even the bandit frowns, glancing toward the unmoving form of Yue Qingyuan.
“So what,” the bandit says after a beat. “There’s still two hostages left.”
Shen Qingqiu bares his teeth. “Think again. Who’s going to believe you once the first hostage is dead? You really think people are that stupid?”
“Brat, you gotta do better,” the bandit replies.
“Oh, you think you know?” Shen Qingqiu returns, and for once Liu Qingge can appreciate the poison dripping from his voice. Although he doesn’t think Shen Qingqiu had ever turned this viciously on him. “But what do you idiots really know? I know you bastards think you’ve got it all figured out; what’s some fucking bumps and bruises - but that’s not what the folks your dealing with think. A bruise in the wrong place and your hostage gets worthless, you know that? Write the wrong thing in your demand and you won’t get a ransom, but be hunted down.”
The bandit looks as surprised as Liu Qingge feels.
Then a gleam enters the bandit’s eyes. “Ah. You… Well, with that face...”
Shen Qingqiu doesn’t answer. Liu Qingge doesn’t know what he means.
The bandit crosses his arms, smirks. “Now, even if you say the truth, I’m still not entirely convinced… what do I get for patching up your friend?”
“What do you get? You get to keep your fucking head,” Shen Qingqiu spits back.
The bandit smirks, eyes trailing down Shen Qingqiu’s body, and the fine hairs on the back of Liu Qingge’s neck stand.
“Playing stupid now?” the man laughs. “Don’t do that. Or well… I guess it depends on whether or not you want to save your friend.”
Liu Qingge doesn’t get it.
Shen Qingqiu does. Despite himself, he pales. The determined glint in his eye, however, remains unbroken. “Fine.”
The bandit gives one last, satisfied smirk, then closes the door.
Shen Qingqiu slumps. He’s breathing hard, as if he’s just run all way across the twelve peaks. Liu Qingge eyes him curiously.
He has the faint notion Shen Qingqiu agreed to something foolish, but he has no idea what it was. There’s also the odd revelation of Shen Qingqiu apparently being familiar with bandits and their working methods which clashes with the lofty image Liu Qingge held of him.
Before he can voice the question, the door opens again. A meek girl carrying a basket with medical supplies stumbles in, three men flank her.
“Our end of the deal,” the bandit-in-charge declares. He leers at Shen Qingqiu, displaying brown teeth. “Now it’s your turn.”
Several men behind him cheer crudely.
Liu Qingge looks at his fellow disciple, heart sinking with a terrible suspicion. Shen Qingqiu appears pale, but he climbs to his feet.
“Don’t do this,” Liu Qingge wants to say.
The moment Shen Qingqiu is upright, a heavy-set bandit reaches out and grabs his hair. He jerks Shen Qingqiu toward him, paying no regard to the flash of pain crossing his face.
“My, that’s a pretty face,” the man jeers. “The whores in town don’t look that good. You sure this one isn’t some bed slave, too?”
Liu Qingge’s blood runs cold. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t flinch.
The man from before laughs. “Who knows! He was quick to agree, so he knows something.”
A third person reaches over and pulls on the collar of Shen Qingqiu’s robe, exposing thin collarbones and a smooth skin. A calloused hand follows, sliding underneath the collar, and Shen Qingqiu can’t move for the hands holding him in place.
“That’s nice quality here,” the owner of the hand pronounces, and cold rage seeps into Liu Qingge’s stomach. He has his grievances with Shen Qingqiu, he may outright dislike the other - but what these men are doing, what humiliation they cause; that is beyond anything Liu Qingge witnessed before.
His fingers curl where they are bound, wishing for his sword, or a knife.
The leader of the group has wrapped Shen Qingqiu’s hair around his hand uses it to jerk Shen Qingqiu along like on a leash. “Now let’s see if the goods are as good as they look,” he proclaims and a hard pull makes Shen Qingqiu stumble.
“He looks like he’s good with his mouth,” somebody says, and the men howl with laughter.
A hatred unlike anything he’s known before fills Liu Qingge’s body. “I will kill you!” he roars before he thinks. “I will kill you all!” And it won’t be a quick or easy death, he vows, he will pay back the pain and helplessness tenfold.
The men laugh. “Oh no, look how scared I am,” one calls out.
“Don’t worry, you can still go a round after we’re done with your friend,” another suggests. “If he’s still in one piece, that is.”
Liu Qingge feels sick.