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Quiet Night Thought: Chapter 4 [SVSSS]
Title: Quiet Night Thought
Fandom: Scum Villain's Self-Saving System
Pairing/Characters: Shen Jiu & Shen Yuan, Shen Jiu & everyone, Shen Yuan & Shang Qinghua, Shen Jiu & Yue Qingyuan
Rating: NR (probably T?)
Warnings:
Word Count: 2,485, Ch. 4 / 5; See All Chapters
Summary: Shen Yuan unwittingly gives character-growth advice to the Qing Jing head disciple Shen Jiu in a weak plot device of a shared dream. Of course, advice that's good from a plot perspective isn't always advice that's good for the individual, especially when that individual is a real person with real emotions and real trauma.
“We want in,” said Qi Qingqi without preamble, walking directly through the silencing wards surrounding the shaded Qiong Ding pavilion and sitting down at the table uninvited. The five succeeding disciples hovering behind her waffled for a moment before hesitantly folding to the ground behind her.
Yue Qingyuan and Mu Qingfang exchanged a covert glance from behind their respective cups of tea. “In on what, shimei?” asked Yue Qingyuan in mild confusion.
His deception would almost have been believable, except that at that precise moment, Liu Qingge said, “Okay,” with a shrug.
Mu Qingfang covered his face with his hands. Yue Qingyuan sighed.
“Good,” said Qi Qingqi. “So we’ve eliminated possession, etc., and we’ve also eliminated evil, traitorous schemes. Where are you in this?”
“Outside enemy force threatening harm, maybe blackmail,” said Liu Qingge easily.
“Oooh, yes, I can see that,” said Qi Qingqi with somewhat inappropriate glee. “So the usual ending to these plotlines is tragic suicide or gruesome murder, after which everyone discovers that the blackmailed party was innocent all along, and so on, but I’m thinking we want to avoid the death part in this case.”
“This is not one of your novels, Qi-shimei,” said Yue Qingyuan with icy finality. “If you are going to treat it as such, I encourage you to leave.”
Qi Qingqi eyed him thoughtfully. “Novels are full of all kinds of absurdities, but there’s a reason some plots reappear over and over again, Yue-shixiong. The dressing might be overdone nonsense, but that doesn’t mean we can’t learn lessons about humanity from them even so.”
“You’re just trying to turn this into one of your yellow books,” said Liu Qingge, even as the other future peak lords seemed affected by Qi Qingqi’s speech. “Let me guess—your solution involves dual cultivation.”
Qi Qingqi smirked at him. “Why? Are you offering?” Yue Qingyuan made a strangled noise, and she turned on him in an instant. “You know, if this is an outside-threat situation, someone chose Shen Qingqiu as the weak link for a reason. He doesn’t get along with the other Qing Jing Peak disciples, he doesn’t get along with us. He’s been socially isolated. Sure, he did it to himself by being an irritating, rancid sack of shit, but when it looks like he’s undefended, someone’s going to take advantage.”
Yue Qingyuan looked mournful and tragic, which Qi Qingqi decided was counterproductive, no matter how good it would look as an illustrated bookplate. Oooh, or a wall-hanging! She brought herself firmly back on track. “So how do we make it clear that he really is protected and supported by the sect?” she asked her audience. Her tone made it clear that there was a correct answer to this question, and she would be grading their responses.
“Fake relationship,” said Liu Qingge blandly. “We tell everyone loudly that Shen Qingqiu and Yue-shixiong have not only reconciled their differences, they’ve confessed their eternal love to one another. Shen Qingqiu and Yue-shixiong will have to go around in public together gently touching hands and leaning into one another, and then over time, they’ll grow to realise that it wasn’t a lie after all, and they’ll get married and live happily ever after.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” said Qi Qingqi, briskly snapping her fingers in front of Yue Qingyuan’s face, as he was looking concerningly starry-eyed. “But yes, fake relationship. And in the process, we all spend more time with Shen Qingqiu and discover that he isn’t as terrible as we thought, even if we have to forcibly rearrange his habits to ensure that that’s the case. Any questions?”
Aside from the topic of conversation, only two succeeding disciples were absent from the clandestine meeting on Qiong Ding, and coincidentally, they were having a meeting of their own at the same time.
“That’s so interesting,” said Shang Qinghua unenthusiastically. “But back to my question, what are the rules surrounding sharing information about other people’s bonds with their swords?”
“A sword bond is the most profound and intimate connection possible,” said Wei Qingwei, uncharacteristically serious. “It goes beyond teacher and student, beyond parent and child, beyond cultivation partners, beyond anything. It is a sacred connection beyond all others.”
“So like, you wouldn’t talk about other people’s swords just casually, but if it were really important…?”
“No,” said Wei Qingwei firmly. “Not even if it were really, really important.”
Shang Qinghua deflated. “Fine, fine, whatever.”
When Shang Qinghua finally bustled his way off of Wan Jian Peak, Wei Qingwei stared down at the unfinished blade he had been inspecting. He placed it carefully on the rack and stepped onto his own sword, letting it carry him to Qing Jing Peak.
“Shen-shixiong,” he greeted when he found his target. “Nice weather today.”
Shen Qingqiu gave him one of his new, stiff smiles from where he was settled on a blanket with a pipa. “Yes, it’s lovely,” he said vaguely.
“You know,” Wei Qingwei said abruptly, having now run through his entire repertoire of small talk. “If you’re looking for a path forward, you could always just ask Yue-shixiong about his sword.”
Shen Qingqiu stilled, looking at him with narrowed eyes. It was a moment before he was able to soften back into his new mask of civility. “I’m certain shidi is above that kind of euphemism,” he said lightly, turning back to his instrument.
“Not in the least,” said Wei Qingwei. “But in this case, it’s not a euphemism. You should ask him about Xuan Su.” He coughed into his fist. “If you want,” he finished awkwardly.
Shen Qingqiu frowned up at him, and then he said slowly, “Thanking shidi for his consideration,” and it didn’t even sound like a fake sentiment.
Wei Qingwei nodded at him and returned to his swords, good deed done for the century.
Shen Yuan’s eyes were so misted over in anger that he didn’t even notice the misty tendrils rising until Shen Jiu floated into his field of vision. “Oh, good—that new chapter had better just have been part of the dream,” he said. “Not that I’d put it past that deadbeat author.”
“What have you been reading?” asked Shen Jiu, sitting down and claiming the tablet.
“Oh, a shitty web novel,” said Shen Yuan dismissively. “Hey,” he added as a thought occurred to him. “I don’t suppose you know a Shen Qingqiu in your world?”
Shen was a common surname, but Shen Yuan had been spending a lot of time reading Proud Immortal Demon Way lately. Maybe he had dreamt up a tragic backstory relative for Shen Qingqiu. The guy definitely needed some defining characteristic beyond just scum.
And indeed, Shen Jiu’s fingers were stilling on the tablet. As usual, when he felt upset or hurt or threatened, there was a long pause before he decided to be honest with Shen Yuan, as though he, the character, felt as protected by the unreality of the dreamscape they shared as Shen Yuan did.
“Qingqiu is my courtesy name,” Shen Jiu said finally, and—
—And Shen Yuan stopped breathing, because that absolutely could not be true. Shen Qingqiu was a classic, empty antagonist, scummy and cruel for no reason but to provide a sufficiently tragic backstory the fuel the protagonist’s revenge story. Shen Qingqiu was a fraud, unskilled but arrogant. Shen Qingqiu was a child abuser, and a molester of girls and women, and a murderer, and a traitor.
Shen Qingqiu could not possibly be Shen Jiu, who was finicky and defensive, but so very gentle as he stroked his fingers along the strings of the qin, the keys of the piano, the leather of the couch, the glass of the tablet. Shen Jiu who had suffered, but who was doggedly and painfully trying to pursue a new, kinder path for himself and his ‘Qi-ge.’ Shen Jiu, who was immensely talented and brilliant, but who was proud and modest in turns about his own skills. Shen Jiu, who was a bruised child himself—the same age as Shen Yuan, or younger—who flinched away from the idea of physical punishment. Shen Jiu, who had, in a series of long conversations made it clear that he was not interested in girls or women physically, and who felt conflicted and frightened of his interests in men. Shen Jiu, who was so desperately loyal to his Qi-ge. Shen Jiu could not possibly be Shen Qingqiu.
Shen Jiu could clearly read something in Shen Yuan’s face, because his whole body closed off.
These terrible dogblood novels, with their terrible, tragic backstories that produced terrible, tragic main stories.
These terrible dogblood novels, that made complex and intricate characters and then left their stories unwritten in their pursuit of perfect, uncomplicated revenge.
Shen Yuan looked at his laptop, still open. “I think you should read this shitty novel,” he said, his voice sounding far away. “It’s about a little kid getting abused by his teacher, the Qing Jing Peak Lord of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, who’s named Shen Qingqiu. And then the little kid grows up and gets his revenge.”
Shen Jiu’s hands were clenched into fists, his knuckles turned white.
“It’s a really bad story,” Shen Yuan continued. “And even though it might have familiar names, familiar places, familiar ideas… I just realised, it’s not about you. And it’s important that you know that, too.”
Shen Jiu looked up at him sharply. “I’m not the Peak Lord yet, but—”
“It’s not about you,” said Shen Yuan firmly, feeling it settle into truth within him as he spoke the words. “It’s about the idea of you, written by someone who doesn’t know anything about you. And the story isn’t finished yet. I mean,” he gestured to his laptop, “this novel isn’t finished yet, but your story isn’t finished yet, either, and it doesn’t have to go down this way. We won’t let it go down this way.”
Shen Jiu nodded uncertainly.
“Here,” said Shen Yuan, reaching out, “let me pull it up on the tablet. It’s unbelievably long, but once you’re done reading it, we can work out from what you know what was happening in the background, what happened in the backstory, and we can figure out how to stop it.”
Shen Jiu watched as Shen Yuan opened the novel website and logged in, pulling up the first chapter before handing it back.
He stood up to make some tea, and Shen Jiu began to read.
Shen Jiu could read incredibly quickly while absorbing massive amounts of details and intricate ideas, both of which were vanishingly rare in the endless dogblood-come-stallion novel. Shen Yuan kept his distance as best as he could in their shared space, and he had no doubt that Shen Jiu made it through a sizeable chunk of the novel—perhaps even to his own gruesome end—before he faded away and Shen Yuan opened his eyes.
Awake and groggy, he squinted at his computer screen, which told him that the hated chapter really did exist. He groaned and fell back. In the stale, real air of his apartment, he wondered why he cared so much that the xianxia friend he’d dreamt up was the scum villain from his most hated novel. He was just a dream either way. He closed his laptop and put it aside, rolling over into a foetal position as the pain in his stomach flared. He thought about calling his doctor, but what would he say? ‘Yes, you’re very sick, and there’s nothing we can do about it’? He’d heard that enough already.
He hugged a pillow to his chest and closed his eyes against the unforgiving light of the waking world.
He was awake, and he was in pain, and he was alone.
Just like normal.
‘Ask him about Xuan Su,’ Wei Qingwei had told him.
Shen Qingqiu pondered this as he puts his brush down, carefully stretching his fingers. He had copied down everything he could remember from Proud Immortal Demon Way, as closely to the original as he could manage. As far as he could identify, the events began some decades in the future. He would have time to decode them later, he thought as he placed privacy seals on them, and then placed them in a heavily warded box, and then placed that box within a private qiankun bag embroidered with an elegant pattern of fans made out in black silk. But for now, he needed to think about something else, and here was some other mystery tidily handed to him.
‘Ask him about Xuan Su.’
Shen Qingqiu stood, fastidiously straightened his robes, and headed out for Qiong Ding Peak.
Their conversation lasted a long time, and when Shen Qingqiu returned to his room with tear-stained cheeks, the fan-patterned qiankun bag caught his eye. In Proud Immortal Demon Way, the Lords of Qing Jing and Qiong Ding Peaks never reconciled, and their relationship remained cold and acidic on one side and negligent and permissive on the other right through to the end of their story. But now, they had spoken, and confessed, and exchanged words of forgiveness. They’re already on a different path from that book.
Shen Qingqiu’s shoulders relaxed, and for once, sleep came easily.
“How dare you make a move on the plan without telling us?” demanded Qi Qingqi, poking Yue Qingyuan sharply in the chest. “You haven’t been properly coached! You’ll mess everything up!”
“He wouldn’t need coaching if we just explained the plan to Shen Qingqiu directly,” said Liu Qingge. He had been sulking bitterly ever since Qi Qingqi had declared that if he was going to be so invested in this whole plan, he could be the love interest instead of Yue Qingyuan, which was unspeakably rude. After all, Qi Qingqi knew perfectly well that Liu Qingge wasn’t interested in Shen Qingqiu that way, but there was a particular formula needed for producing a fake-relationship-friends-to-lovers trope, and she was doing it wrong.
Qi Qingqi eyed him meaningfully as if to say, ‘Back off—this could be you!’ But before she could chastise him, Yue Qingyuan spoke up in his own defence.
“I didn’t move forward with the plan! Xi—Shen-shidi came to me to discuss something unrelated.” His expression was a complicated mess of joy and sorrow that the attending party was delicately choosing not to address at the moment.
“And this unrelated thing just happened to lead to the onset of the reconciliation arc?” asked Qi Qingqi disbelievingly.
“Yes!”
“There may have been some outside forces at work,” said Mu Qingfang thoughtfully. “I’m certain I saw Shang-shixiong pacing and muttering to himself about swords.”
Yue Qingyuan’s eyes narrowed. “Was he? It may be time to bring Shang-shidi into our fold after all.”
“Fine,” said Qi Qingqi dismissively. “But no more improvising!” She poked him again meaningfully.
Next Chapter
Fandom: Scum Villain's Self-Saving System
Pairing/Characters: Shen Jiu & Shen Yuan, Shen Jiu & everyone, Shen Yuan & Shang Qinghua, Shen Jiu & Yue Qingyuan
Rating: NR (probably T?)
Warnings:
Word Count: 2,485, Ch. 4 / 5; See All Chapters
Summary: Shen Yuan unwittingly gives character-growth advice to the Qing Jing head disciple Shen Jiu in a weak plot device of a shared dream. Of course, advice that's good from a plot perspective isn't always advice that's good for the individual, especially when that individual is a real person with real emotions and real trauma.
“We want in,” said Qi Qingqi without preamble, walking directly through the silencing wards surrounding the shaded Qiong Ding pavilion and sitting down at the table uninvited. The five succeeding disciples hovering behind her waffled for a moment before hesitantly folding to the ground behind her.
Yue Qingyuan and Mu Qingfang exchanged a covert glance from behind their respective cups of tea. “In on what, shimei?” asked Yue Qingyuan in mild confusion.
His deception would almost have been believable, except that at that precise moment, Liu Qingge said, “Okay,” with a shrug.
Mu Qingfang covered his face with his hands. Yue Qingyuan sighed.
“Good,” said Qi Qingqi. “So we’ve eliminated possession, etc., and we’ve also eliminated evil, traitorous schemes. Where are you in this?”
“Outside enemy force threatening harm, maybe blackmail,” said Liu Qingge easily.
“Oooh, yes, I can see that,” said Qi Qingqi with somewhat inappropriate glee. “So the usual ending to these plotlines is tragic suicide or gruesome murder, after which everyone discovers that the blackmailed party was innocent all along, and so on, but I’m thinking we want to avoid the death part in this case.”
“This is not one of your novels, Qi-shimei,” said Yue Qingyuan with icy finality. “If you are going to treat it as such, I encourage you to leave.”
Qi Qingqi eyed him thoughtfully. “Novels are full of all kinds of absurdities, but there’s a reason some plots reappear over and over again, Yue-shixiong. The dressing might be overdone nonsense, but that doesn’t mean we can’t learn lessons about humanity from them even so.”
“You’re just trying to turn this into one of your yellow books,” said Liu Qingge, even as the other future peak lords seemed affected by Qi Qingqi’s speech. “Let me guess—your solution involves dual cultivation.”
Qi Qingqi smirked at him. “Why? Are you offering?” Yue Qingyuan made a strangled noise, and she turned on him in an instant. “You know, if this is an outside-threat situation, someone chose Shen Qingqiu as the weak link for a reason. He doesn’t get along with the other Qing Jing Peak disciples, he doesn’t get along with us. He’s been socially isolated. Sure, he did it to himself by being an irritating, rancid sack of shit, but when it looks like he’s undefended, someone’s going to take advantage.”
Yue Qingyuan looked mournful and tragic, which Qi Qingqi decided was counterproductive, no matter how good it would look as an illustrated bookplate. Oooh, or a wall-hanging! She brought herself firmly back on track. “So how do we make it clear that he really is protected and supported by the sect?” she asked her audience. Her tone made it clear that there was a correct answer to this question, and she would be grading their responses.
“Fake relationship,” said Liu Qingge blandly. “We tell everyone loudly that Shen Qingqiu and Yue-shixiong have not only reconciled their differences, they’ve confessed their eternal love to one another. Shen Qingqiu and Yue-shixiong will have to go around in public together gently touching hands and leaning into one another, and then over time, they’ll grow to realise that it wasn’t a lie after all, and they’ll get married and live happily ever after.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” said Qi Qingqi, briskly snapping her fingers in front of Yue Qingyuan’s face, as he was looking concerningly starry-eyed. “But yes, fake relationship. And in the process, we all spend more time with Shen Qingqiu and discover that he isn’t as terrible as we thought, even if we have to forcibly rearrange his habits to ensure that that’s the case. Any questions?”
Aside from the topic of conversation, only two succeeding disciples were absent from the clandestine meeting on Qiong Ding, and coincidentally, they were having a meeting of their own at the same time.
“That’s so interesting,” said Shang Qinghua unenthusiastically. “But back to my question, what are the rules surrounding sharing information about other people’s bonds with their swords?”
“A sword bond is the most profound and intimate connection possible,” said Wei Qingwei, uncharacteristically serious. “It goes beyond teacher and student, beyond parent and child, beyond cultivation partners, beyond anything. It is a sacred connection beyond all others.”
“So like, you wouldn’t talk about other people’s swords just casually, but if it were really important…?”
“No,” said Wei Qingwei firmly. “Not even if it were really, really important.”
Shang Qinghua deflated. “Fine, fine, whatever.”
When Shang Qinghua finally bustled his way off of Wan Jian Peak, Wei Qingwei stared down at the unfinished blade he had been inspecting. He placed it carefully on the rack and stepped onto his own sword, letting it carry him to Qing Jing Peak.
“Shen-shixiong,” he greeted when he found his target. “Nice weather today.”
Shen Qingqiu gave him one of his new, stiff smiles from where he was settled on a blanket with a pipa. “Yes, it’s lovely,” he said vaguely.
“You know,” Wei Qingwei said abruptly, having now run through his entire repertoire of small talk. “If you’re looking for a path forward, you could always just ask Yue-shixiong about his sword.”
Shen Qingqiu stilled, looking at him with narrowed eyes. It was a moment before he was able to soften back into his new mask of civility. “I’m certain shidi is above that kind of euphemism,” he said lightly, turning back to his instrument.
“Not in the least,” said Wei Qingwei. “But in this case, it’s not a euphemism. You should ask him about Xuan Su.” He coughed into his fist. “If you want,” he finished awkwardly.
Shen Qingqiu frowned up at him, and then he said slowly, “Thanking shidi for his consideration,” and it didn’t even sound like a fake sentiment.
Wei Qingwei nodded at him and returned to his swords, good deed done for the century.
Shen Yuan’s eyes were so misted over in anger that he didn’t even notice the misty tendrils rising until Shen Jiu floated into his field of vision. “Oh, good—that new chapter had better just have been part of the dream,” he said. “Not that I’d put it past that deadbeat author.”
“What have you been reading?” asked Shen Jiu, sitting down and claiming the tablet.
“Oh, a shitty web novel,” said Shen Yuan dismissively. “Hey,” he added as a thought occurred to him. “I don’t suppose you know a Shen Qingqiu in your world?”
Shen was a common surname, but Shen Yuan had been spending a lot of time reading Proud Immortal Demon Way lately. Maybe he had dreamt up a tragic backstory relative for Shen Qingqiu. The guy definitely needed some defining characteristic beyond just scum.
And indeed, Shen Jiu’s fingers were stilling on the tablet. As usual, when he felt upset or hurt or threatened, there was a long pause before he decided to be honest with Shen Yuan, as though he, the character, felt as protected by the unreality of the dreamscape they shared as Shen Yuan did.
“Qingqiu is my courtesy name,” Shen Jiu said finally, and—
—And Shen Yuan stopped breathing, because that absolutely could not be true. Shen Qingqiu was a classic, empty antagonist, scummy and cruel for no reason but to provide a sufficiently tragic backstory the fuel the protagonist’s revenge story. Shen Qingqiu was a fraud, unskilled but arrogant. Shen Qingqiu was a child abuser, and a molester of girls and women, and a murderer, and a traitor.
Shen Qingqiu could not possibly be Shen Jiu, who was finicky and defensive, but so very gentle as he stroked his fingers along the strings of the qin, the keys of the piano, the leather of the couch, the glass of the tablet. Shen Jiu who had suffered, but who was doggedly and painfully trying to pursue a new, kinder path for himself and his ‘Qi-ge.’ Shen Jiu, who was immensely talented and brilliant, but who was proud and modest in turns about his own skills. Shen Jiu, who was a bruised child himself—the same age as Shen Yuan, or younger—who flinched away from the idea of physical punishment. Shen Jiu, who had, in a series of long conversations made it clear that he was not interested in girls or women physically, and who felt conflicted and frightened of his interests in men. Shen Jiu, who was so desperately loyal to his Qi-ge. Shen Jiu could not possibly be Shen Qingqiu.
Shen Jiu could clearly read something in Shen Yuan’s face, because his whole body closed off.
These terrible dogblood novels, with their terrible, tragic backstories that produced terrible, tragic main stories.
These terrible dogblood novels, that made complex and intricate characters and then left their stories unwritten in their pursuit of perfect, uncomplicated revenge.
Shen Yuan looked at his laptop, still open. “I think you should read this shitty novel,” he said, his voice sounding far away. “It’s about a little kid getting abused by his teacher, the Qing Jing Peak Lord of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, who’s named Shen Qingqiu. And then the little kid grows up and gets his revenge.”
Shen Jiu’s hands were clenched into fists, his knuckles turned white.
“It’s a really bad story,” Shen Yuan continued. “And even though it might have familiar names, familiar places, familiar ideas… I just realised, it’s not about you. And it’s important that you know that, too.”
Shen Jiu looked up at him sharply. “I’m not the Peak Lord yet, but—”
“It’s not about you,” said Shen Yuan firmly, feeling it settle into truth within him as he spoke the words. “It’s about the idea of you, written by someone who doesn’t know anything about you. And the story isn’t finished yet. I mean,” he gestured to his laptop, “this novel isn’t finished yet, but your story isn’t finished yet, either, and it doesn’t have to go down this way. We won’t let it go down this way.”
Shen Jiu nodded uncertainly.
“Here,” said Shen Yuan, reaching out, “let me pull it up on the tablet. It’s unbelievably long, but once you’re done reading it, we can work out from what you know what was happening in the background, what happened in the backstory, and we can figure out how to stop it.”
Shen Jiu watched as Shen Yuan opened the novel website and logged in, pulling up the first chapter before handing it back.
He stood up to make some tea, and Shen Jiu began to read.
Shen Jiu could read incredibly quickly while absorbing massive amounts of details and intricate ideas, both of which were vanishingly rare in the endless dogblood-come-stallion novel. Shen Yuan kept his distance as best as he could in their shared space, and he had no doubt that Shen Jiu made it through a sizeable chunk of the novel—perhaps even to his own gruesome end—before he faded away and Shen Yuan opened his eyes.
Awake and groggy, he squinted at his computer screen, which told him that the hated chapter really did exist. He groaned and fell back. In the stale, real air of his apartment, he wondered why he cared so much that the xianxia friend he’d dreamt up was the scum villain from his most hated novel. He was just a dream either way. He closed his laptop and put it aside, rolling over into a foetal position as the pain in his stomach flared. He thought about calling his doctor, but what would he say? ‘Yes, you’re very sick, and there’s nothing we can do about it’? He’d heard that enough already.
He hugged a pillow to his chest and closed his eyes against the unforgiving light of the waking world.
He was awake, and he was in pain, and he was alone.
Just like normal.
‘Ask him about Xuan Su,’ Wei Qingwei had told him.
Shen Qingqiu pondered this as he puts his brush down, carefully stretching his fingers. He had copied down everything he could remember from Proud Immortal Demon Way, as closely to the original as he could manage. As far as he could identify, the events began some decades in the future. He would have time to decode them later, he thought as he placed privacy seals on them, and then placed them in a heavily warded box, and then placed that box within a private qiankun bag embroidered with an elegant pattern of fans made out in black silk. But for now, he needed to think about something else, and here was some other mystery tidily handed to him.
‘Ask him about Xuan Su.’
Shen Qingqiu stood, fastidiously straightened his robes, and headed out for Qiong Ding Peak.
Their conversation lasted a long time, and when Shen Qingqiu returned to his room with tear-stained cheeks, the fan-patterned qiankun bag caught his eye. In Proud Immortal Demon Way, the Lords of Qing Jing and Qiong Ding Peaks never reconciled, and their relationship remained cold and acidic on one side and negligent and permissive on the other right through to the end of their story. But now, they had spoken, and confessed, and exchanged words of forgiveness. They’re already on a different path from that book.
Shen Qingqiu’s shoulders relaxed, and for once, sleep came easily.
“How dare you make a move on the plan without telling us?” demanded Qi Qingqi, poking Yue Qingyuan sharply in the chest. “You haven’t been properly coached! You’ll mess everything up!”
“He wouldn’t need coaching if we just explained the plan to Shen Qingqiu directly,” said Liu Qingge. He had been sulking bitterly ever since Qi Qingqi had declared that if he was going to be so invested in this whole plan, he could be the love interest instead of Yue Qingyuan, which was unspeakably rude. After all, Qi Qingqi knew perfectly well that Liu Qingge wasn’t interested in Shen Qingqiu that way, but there was a particular formula needed for producing a fake-relationship-friends-to-lovers trope, and she was doing it wrong.
Qi Qingqi eyed him meaningfully as if to say, ‘Back off—this could be you!’ But before she could chastise him, Yue Qingyuan spoke up in his own defence.
“I didn’t move forward with the plan! Xi—Shen-shidi came to me to discuss something unrelated.” His expression was a complicated mess of joy and sorrow that the attending party was delicately choosing not to address at the moment.
“And this unrelated thing just happened to lead to the onset of the reconciliation arc?” asked Qi Qingqi disbelievingly.
“Yes!”
“There may have been some outside forces at work,” said Mu Qingfang thoughtfully. “I’m certain I saw Shang-shixiong pacing and muttering to himself about swords.”
Yue Qingyuan’s eyes narrowed. “Was he? It may be time to bring Shang-shidi into our fold after all.”
“Fine,” said Qi Qingqi dismissively. “But no more improvising!” She poked him again meaningfully.
Next Chapter