Chapter 74

Shen Jiu clutched his head, silent.

Seeing him wilt, the Young Master eased his blows, his tone turning earnest. "What's so bad about staying put and behaving? You're fifteen now—practically a man, about to start a family. You've long missed the prime window for cultivation. What could you possibly achieve? Even if you stumble after some charlatan, they might not even want you."

Death wish. This is a straight-up death wish.

The original owner of this body cared about nothing more than his cultivation. He couldn't bear anyone surpassing him, and he absolutely couldn't stand anyone belittling his potential. It was this very obsession that had driven his insane jealousy toward Luo Binghe.

And this bastard dared to say he had no future!

With a sudden, violent motion, Shen Jiu snatched the inkstone from the desk and hurled it at the Young Master.

From this angle, it seemed to fly straight at Shen Qingqiu, who instinctively sidestepped.

The inkstone, of course, hit neither of them, but it splattered the Young Master's exquisitely embroidered robe with dark splotches, utterly ruining it.

The Young Master's face darkened instantly. "My sister's affection for you is a blessing you earned over lifetimes!" he roared. "If not for our family, you'd still be on the streets, playing the beggar and swindling people to survive! Now you have food, clothes, and even an education. You look almost human! Who gave you all this?" He slammed Shen Jiu's head back to the floor. "You show not a shred of gratitude."

Shen Jiu seemed to throw all caution to the wind, snarling through gritted teeth, "I am a human. You are the beast!"

Brave. Admirably brave.

The Young Master slammed him against the wall. "I thought you'd improved these past years, but you're still worthless mud that can't cling to a wall!"

A sword hung on the white wall, dislodged by the impact. It clattered to the floor. Shen Jiu slumped at the base of the wall, his hand fumbling until it found the hilt. In a panic, he drew the blade, gripping it with trembling hands as he pointed it at the Young Master, whose eyes were now bloodshot with rage.

The latter didn't believe for a second he'd actually use it. "Still got some fire in you?" he sneered, pointing a finger. "Bones itching for another lesson?"

As the Young Master took a few steps closer, Shen Jiu, terrified out of his mind, screamed, "Stay back!"

"No backbone! You—"

After that single word, he could speak no more.

He looked down slowly. The sword was buried to the hilt in his gut.

A look of utter disbelief froze on the Young Master's face. Shen Jiu yanked the blade free.

Shen Qingqiu watched from the sidelines, a bizarre mix of horror and… satisfaction churning in his gut.

Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit! A live broadcast of a murder!

The situation had escalated in a heartbeat. A few words, and now a tragedy.

Shen Jiu stared, dumbstruck. Clutching his abdomen, the Young Master snatched the sword back with furious strength, kicked Shen Jiu to the floor, and bellowed, "Guards!"

Shen Jiu scrambled up, lunging to choke him. They grappled, a tangle of limbs, just as several servants burst into the study. Taking in the scene, they shouted in alarm. Panicked and terrified, Shen Jiu formed a mudra—he didn't even know which one. The sword in the Young Master's hand shot sideways as if possessed, piercing straight through the servants' chests.

Shen Jiu turned back. The Young Master was staggering toward him, a crimson hand reaching for his hair. Shen Jiu thrust the sword again. This time, it pierced a lung.

Then, stroke after stroke, with all his strength, Shen Jiu stabbed harder and harder, his expression growing more twisted with each thrust. Over fifty strikes later, when the corpse's face and vital points were a pulpy mess, he finally stopped, panting heavily.

This was likely Shen Jiu's first kill. And his first time using his own spiritual power to take a life.

Shen Qingqiu, who had witnessed the entire ordeal, was stunned.

Starting off with that level of brutality!

Shen Jiu stared blankly at the corpses littering the room. Then, as if waking from a dream, he dropped the sword with a clatter and began pacing. But his disorientation lasted only a moment before an eerie calm settled over him.

The entire emotional shift took less than a minute. This mental fortitude… Shen Qingqiu could only bow in respect.

Shen Jiu steadied himself, tentatively curling a finger. The horrifying, blood-soaked sword on the floor slowly rose into the air.

Watching the sharp blade hover before him, a strange, feverish excitement bloomed on Shen Jiu's face. He seized the hilt in a firm grip!

He gave the blade a flick, then strode from the study, the murder weapon in hand. Shen Qingqiu had only paused for a moment when a system message chimed: [Friendly Reminder: Please lock onto your Plot-Filling Target. A distance of no more than 10 meters is recommended to ensure complete plot data collection!]

So you lose points if you don't follow the target? Shen Qingqiu hurried after him, not daring to fall a step behind. Shen Jiu had just rounded a corner when he collided with two burly servants. His arm swept out in an arc of cold light. Two greasy necks were slit simultaneously, blood fountaining into the air.

Shen Jiu killed almost everyone he saw, growing more exhilarated with each life taken, a sinister smile stretching wider and wider across his lips. Screams echoed down the halls as he cleanly dispatched over a dozen people. Shen Qingqiu was watching, heart pounding, when a sharp cry sounded behind him.

Qiu Haitang stood at the far end of the corridor, staring blankly in their direction. Drenched in blood, a living ghost, Shen Jiu was pulling his sword from a servant's neck.

Qiu Haitang's lovely face twitched several times. Her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed into the spreading pool of blood.

It seems this young lady always had a tendency to faint at critical moments!

Perhaps the sight of Qiu Haitang cooled his frenzy slightly. Shen Jiu's sword arm lowered. He pondered for a moment, then turned toward the kitchens.

Shen Qingqiu noticed he only killed men. Not a single woman. The distinction was clear, the hatred directed with obvious bias. The young maids and older servant women hid trembling in the kitchen corners, and he made no effort to seek them out.

Soon, a fire ignited. The dark clouds over the Qiu estate's night sky glowed red as molten hellfire.

Shen Jiu dragged Qiu Haitang's unconscious form outside to a shrubbery. A figure materialized silently behind him. Shen Jiu turned, relief washing over him. "Senior."

This "Senior" was undoubtedly the expert who had held the public spiritual aptitude tests in the city, the one who had ignited Shen Jiu's rebellious heart.

The man chuckled, a dry, grating sound. "Not finishing the job?"

Shen Jiu was silent for a moment. "The one I wanted dead… is dead."

"That brother of yours did get one thing right," the man said. "Your innate talent is indeed good. But you've missed the optimal age for cultivation. Your foundation is damaged. You may still achieve something in the future, but climbing to the true peak? That will be impossible."

If this man had heard the Young Master's words, it meant he had witnessed the entire bloody tragedy from start to finish. Yet he hadn't intervened, merely observed from the sidelines. This "Senior" was clearly no benevolent figure. If Shen Jiu truly followed him, his path would be anything but righteous.

Come to think of it, Shen Qingqiu mused, I thought forming a Golden Core in just over a decade was impressive enough. Was the original potential of this body even greater?

"He was no brother of mine," Shen Jiu said coldly. "At this point, do I have any other road to walk?"

"Tsk, tsk. What a pity," the man clucked with feigned regret. "If it were a few years earlier, things would be very different…"

The tendons on the back of Shen Jiu's sword hand stood out starkly.

The man had already turned. Seeing Shen Jiu still standing at the Qiu estate's gate, he asked, "Not leaving yet? Who are you waiting for?"

This "who" was likely just a casual, rhetorical prod.

Shen Jiu looked back at the towering flames consuming the Qiu estate. His pupils seemed to catch fire themselves.

The surviving Qiu family servants scrambled out of the mansion, a cacophony of wails and sobs. Amid the chaos, only his pale, solitary figure stood rigid before the main gate, the flickering orange and red light dancing wildly across his form.

The fire raged hotter, beams collapsing. Soot stained Shen Jiu's face, a single pale track cutting through the grime where something had washed it clean.

With all his strength, he hurled the sword into the heart of the inferno. Then he, too, turned away.

"I'm not waiting."

Shen Qingqiu had known.

That boy who had promised so earnestly to come back and save him… never did.

Wasn't that just inevitable?

That was a flag! A classic, guaranteed death flag! Solemn vows like "I will definitely return" or "I'll be right back" were practically a curse!

Anyone who said those words was absolutely never seen again!

Especially when those two kids had dreamed too beautifully, too naively.

Going from sect to sect, begging for a master—was it certain one would take him? Completely wrong!

Even if he succeeded, after a few years of training, having seen a wider world and accumulated his own worries, would he still be willing to come back for a childhood companion?

Add to that the unpredictability of the martial world and all manner of possible disasters, and the probability of that boy actually returning to rescue Shen Jiu was less than five percent.

But having filled in the plot to this extent, Shen Qingqiu finally understood what "Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky" had meant.

No wonder he'd directly axed the original setting and turned "Shen Qingqiu" into a one-dimensional villain.

Writing this type of character according to the original blueprint would be a thankless task!

Call him scum, yet he's pitiable. Pity him, yet he's truly ruthless. A character both wretched and cruel is a feast for endless debate.

And Qiu Haitang was utterly innocent. Love's depth forged hatred's intensity. In this whole affair, she had done nothing wrong, yet hatred had ground a naive, innocent girl into a bitter, scheming woman consumed by vengeance. Her death in the Holy Mausoleum was even more unjust. Her ending was less happy than in the original stallion novel.

If only someone could have given her a hand back then…

Just as Shen Qingqiu was sighing with regret, the scene before him suddenly fractured like an old television screen, flashing with black and white static. The setting and faces distorted grotesquely, the sound dissolving into garbled, alien noise.

System Prompt: [Memory fragment corrupted. Data integrity loss: 5%... Data integrity loss: 7%... Data integrity loss: 9%...]

The memory gap was widening!

The percentage of data integrity loss kept climbing. Shen Qingqiu frantically slapped at the system prompt window, just like he used to "fix" the TV as a kid—slapping it while yelling, "Tune in! Adjust the signal! Specializing in poor reception and faulty connections!"

After dozens of slaps, a miracle actually occurred. Just as the data integrity dropped to 10%, the prompt sound abruptly cut off.

The screen's static snow vanished, replaced by a clear image.

Only then did Shen Qingqiu let out a sigh of relief. He withdrew his hand and took a step back. Before he could steady himself, his eyes widened.

A few paces in front of him, a small boy was squatting.

His pale face was smudged with a few streaks of dirt. A jade Guanyin pendant hung from a red cord around his neck, and a small, worn cloth bundle was tied to his back. He was diligently, earnestly... digging a hole in the ground.

"Luo Binghe?" Shen Qingqiu blurted out.

The young Luo Binghe didn't hear him, continuing his diligent digging and earth-moving.

Looking around, Shen Qingqiu saw a broad valley where hundreds of people of varying ages and both genders, all dressed in miscellaneous clothing, were uniformly and vigorously... digging holes.

A flash of insight struck Shen Qingqiu. He looked up.

Sure enough, atop the valley, on a steep, protruding rock, stood two figures.

One wore dark ceremonial robes, his demeanor steady and focused as he gazed down at the hundred people in the valley below. The other had a longsword at his waist and was slowly turning a folding fan between his fingers. His green robes rippled like gentle waves in the breeze. His head was tilted at a subtle angle, his gaze cast downward with an air of barely-concealed disdain for the ants below.

It was Yue Qingyuan and "Shen Qingqiu."

This was the entrance trial for the year Luo Binghe sought to join Cang Qiong Mountain Sect.

Yes, you read that correctly. The trial subject was digging holes!

Although Xiang Tian Da Feiji had used many paragraphs and author's notes to explain that digging holes wasn't just digging holes—that it tested the digger's endurance, speed, perseverance, method of spiritual power application, even character, and so on—Shen Qingqiu hadn't retained a single one of those reasons.

In his mind, no matter how many explanations were piled on, it was simply digging holes!

At this time, Shen Jiu should have already assumed the position of Qing Jing Peak Lord.

Cang Qiong Mountain Sect's rules were thus: the Twelve Peak Lords advanced and retreated together. They assumed their positions together, retired together, held ceremonies in a packed bunch, and went into seclusion in groups. Even if a Peak Lord unfortunately perished during their tenure, their position would simply be left vacant.

During the five years Shen Qingqiu had faked his death and gone into hiding, the position of Qing Jing Peak's First Seat had been empty. Therefore, there would never be a situation where Peak Lords of different generations worked together.

While special circumstances could be troublesome, the advantage was the absence of generational gaps, resulting in exceptionally strong cohesion and emotional bonds between the Peak Lords.

Thinking of this, Shen Qingqiu's mind jumped to another rule.

Once each generation of Peak Lords confirmed their head disciple, they would rename the disciple according to the generational naming tradition, signifying their special status. With so many "Qing-something" names in the world, Shen Jiu had been saddled with the character "Qiu." Truly, the malice of the world.

Shen Jiu loathed the character "Qiu" to the bone, yet he had been bestowed this name. He must have been choking on resentment. Even Shen Qingqiu couldn't help but feel a flicker of pity for 30 seconds. No wonder the original goods hadn't shown much respect or gratitude towards the previous Qing Jing Peak Lord either.

Speaking of which, for cultivators, studying under multiple masters was a major taboo. For Shen Jiu to join Cang Qiong Mountain, the master who had originally taken him out of the Qiu Manor would have become a significant problem. He could only have "met an unfortunate end."

From this, one could also infer that the original goods wasn't exactly a grateful person either.

On the rock, the two seemed to be conversing. Shen Qingqiu glanced at the diligently toiling little Luo Binghe, gave his head a phantom pat, then leaped onto the rock to stand beside the two, listening to their conversation.

Yue Qingyuan said, "There seem to be even more people this year than in previous years."

Shen Jiu narrowed his eyes, his face devoid of emotion. Two fingers moved slightly, causing the folding fan in his hand to open and close a fraction.

Someone approached from the side and bowed to Yue Qingyuan. "Sect Leader, Senior Brother."

This person directly ignored Shen Jiu, who was standing to the side, resentment practically oozing from his eyes.

So damn arrogant! Who else could it be but Liu-juju!

Liu Qingge had probably only officially assumed the position of Bai Zhan Peak Lord a few years prior at this time. The contours of his features still held a hint of youthfulness, but the sharpness of his aura was particularly pronounced. In his movements, there was a kind of spirited vigor belonging to the young.

Yue Qingyuan said, "Junior Brother Liu, your timing is perfect. Take a look, which one seems promising?"

Liu Qingge glanced down only once. "The one with the best natural talent is him."

Shen Qingqiu nodded in satisfaction. Liu-juju's eye was indeed sharp. He was pointing at Luo Binghe, who had his back to the three of them, digging away diligently.

Yue Qingyuan asked, "Does Junior Brother Liu want him?"

Liu Qingge replied, "Those who are meant to come, will come."

Bai Zhan Peak's philosophy had always been: come if you want, or don't. But if you come, be prepared to get beaten. Disciples who didn't actively seek out Bai Zhan Peak to ask for beatings and torment, but instead waited to be chosen, lacked fighting spirit and had no future!

Shen Jiu said indifferently, "Good natural talent does not guarantee achievement."

Liu Qingge didn't even deign to give him a sidelong glance. "Their achievements will certainly be higher than those of a wild path practitioner who only began formal cultivation at sixteen."

...These two really had been extremely incompatible from the start. Liu Qingge disliked talking, yet to mock Shen Jiu, he'd managed a full twenty characters!

That Liu Qingge's relationship with him now was actually not bad was nothing short of a miracle.

Yue Qingyuan chided, "Junior Brother Liu."

Liu Qingge, unwilling to listen to a lecture, turned and left. "Going to practice sword."

He came and went like the wind. Shen Jiu stood rigidly in place, trembling with anger from those few sentences. He gripped the fan ribs so hard they emitted two faint cracking sounds. Yue Qingyuan said gently, "Junior Brother Liu simply doesn't know how to speak. You've always known this. Please, do not take it to heart."

Shen Jiu snorted, his tone dripping with sarcasm. He was just about to say something when Ning Yingying scrambled up onto the rock.

She threw her arms around Shen Jiu's waist and cried, "Shizun, Shizun! Can Yingying finally have a Junior Sister, or a Junior Brother?"

Seeing her, Shen Jiu's expression softened slightly. "You want a Junior Brother or Sister?"

Ning Yingying nodded repeatedly. Shen Jiu raised his head and unfurled his fan, giving it a slow wave.

He suddenly declared, "I want that child."

His gaze was fixed on Luo Binghe. Yue Qingyuan was taken aback.

The original goods' notorious track record with talented disciples was probably already infamous throughout the entire sect. For him to now ask Yue Qingyuan for a promising seedling... really required careful consideration.

Seeing Yue Qingyuan hesitate and not immediately reply, Shen Jiu coldly repeated, "I want him."

Talking to the Sect Leader like that? Was he asking for a beating?!

Unexpectedly, Yue Qingyuan slowly nodded and actually agreed. "Alright."

Shen Qingqiu was utterly speechless.

Yue Qingyuan could still tolerate him... How baffling!

Just how had this body managed to survive unscathed until today?!

And Liu-juju. So, in the end, Shen Jiu's insistence on taking Luo Binghe for himself was actually your fault!

Ning Yingying let out a cheer, dashed down from the rock, and ran into the crowd at the valley's bottom to pull Luo Binghe along.

This segment was the opening scene in the original work where Luo Binghe became a disciple under "Shen Qingqiu"!

However, because it was written from the male lead's perspective, Author Xiang Tian Da Feiji hadn't depicted the undercurrents between these three Peak Lords. He started the narrative directly with the sweet little lolita leading Luo Binghe away.

Shen Qingqiu believed every reader who saw that part, just like Shen Yuan back then, thought it was the auspicious beginning of the male lead's lifelong streak of dogshit luck and peach blossom fortune.

Little did they know, this was merely a tiny crumb of sugar sprinkled before the record of child abuse!

Shen Qingqiu knew what awaited Luo Binghe next.

But he could only watch anxiously. He truly wanted to shout at him: Don't go!!!

Luo Binghe followed Ning Yingying to the bamboo house on Qing Jing Peak. Shen Jiu sat in the spot Shen Qingqiu most frequently occupied, holding a teacup, idly skimming the tea leaves.

He had long since sent away the chattering Ning Yingying. Ming Fan stood attentively to the side, speaking on his behalf. "Starting today, you will remain on Qing Jing Peak."

A flush of delighted surprise spread across the little Luo Binghe's face. He knelt down properly and performed a formal bow, his clear voice ringing out. "Disciple Luo Binghe pays his respects to Shizun!"

Shen Jiu twitched the corner of his mouth, finally moving the teacup away from his chin.

He said leisurely, "Why have you come to Cang Qiong Mountain Sect?"

Luo Binghe answered shyly, "This disciple admires the esteemed Immortal Masters of the sacred mountain. If I can be accepted as a disciple and achieve success in my studies, my mother's spirit in heaven can also rest in peace."

Shen Qingqiu knew this was the answer he had rehearsed countless times on his journey here.

Shen Jiu made a noncommittal "Oh" sound. "You have a mother at home?"

He asked, seemingly casually, "What is your mother like?"

Luo Binghe said earnestly, "Mother is the person in this world who treats me the best."

Shen Jiu's face spasmed. He raised a hand to stop him.

He looked Luo Binghe up and down. "Indeed, it is the most suitable age for cultivation."

Shen Qingqiu could read three words on the original goods' face.

Jealousy. Jealousy. And more jealousy.

Jealous of Luo Binghe having "the person in the world who treats him the best." Jealous of Luo Binghe's natural talent. Jealous of Luo Binghe joining Cang Qiong Mountain Sect at the most suitable age.

To be jealous of a child... that was the kind of person he was.

Shen Jiu stood up and began walking step by step towards Luo Binghe.

Shen Qingqiu instinctively moved to block his path, but how could he stop a memory?

Luo Binghe lifted his face, looking up at the Qing Jing Peak Lord approaching him as if gazing upon a heavenly deity.

Who could have known that the deity would walk right past him without a glance, casually pouring the contents of his teacup—cup, lid, and all—over him.

The tea wasn't freshly brewed, only about seventy percent hot, but Luo Binghe was utterly stunned.

Ming Fan hurried after Shen Jiu, who had already turned and strode out of the bamboo house with his hands clasped behind his back. He turned his head and barked, "Kneel properly! If Shizun hasn't told you to rise, and you dare to get up, be careful we string you up and beat you!"

...For the first time, Shen Qingqiu realized that Ming Fan's talent for being a cannon-fodder character with a death wish was truly off the charts!

Luo Binghe had just completed his formal entry into the sect, his heart brimming with joy and gratitude, only to be inexplicably doused with a bucket of ice water. That joy froze solid, then snuffed out entirely.

He remained kneeling on the spot, motionless, not even blinking.

Silently, two tears traced paths down his cheeks.

This was the first time Luo Binghe had cried since his adoptive mother's death, and it would be the last time he ever wept on Qiong Ding Peak.

From that day forward, no matter the injustice he suffered, no matter how the original goods tortured him to vent his own twisted emotions, Luo Binghe never shed another tear.

Shen Qingqiu crouched before him, raising a sleeve only for it to pass through the boy's form. He couldn't touch him, couldn't hold him, couldn't even wipe those tears away. The helplessness was a physical ache, a wrenching pain in his chest.

Even knowing Luo Binghe couldn't hear him, he spoke anyway. "Don't cry."

Luo Binghe stared fixedly at his own knees, his small fists slowly clenching on his thighs. The tears fell harder, dripping one by one onto his robes.

Shen Qingqiu made a futile gesture of wiping the boy's cheek. "This master won't hit you again. Please, don't cry."

Luo Binghe lifted a hand, rubbed his eyes, then gathered the teacup and lid from the floor, setting them aside carefully. His fingers briefly closed around the jade pendant at his chest before he straightened his kneeling posture once more.

Shen Qingqiu knew exactly what was going through his mind.

I must have done something wrong, offended the Peak Lord. This is my lesson. Kneeling for one's master is only proper.

Seeing that small, resigned movement again, Shen Qingqiu couldn't bear it. He knelt down directly in front of the boy, reaching out to gather Luo Binghe's small, solid form into an embrace that, for him, was nothing but empty air.

***

When his eyes opened again, his entire field of vision was filled with white bed curtains and their corner tassels.

The sudden shift in scenery left Shen Qingqiu disoriented. He didn't move.

Yue Qingyuan's voice came from beside him. "Awake?"

Shen Qingqiu blinked mechanically a few more times. His throat felt dry. "Senior Brother," he managed.

Yue Qingyuan, seated by the bed, studied him for a moment. "You were calling Luo Binghe's name in your sleep."

Shen Qingqiu: "...Oh."

Yue Qingyuan: "While crying."

Shen Qingqiu wiped his face and only then realized that aside from cold sweat, his cheeks were indeed streaked with tears.

Damn it. Tears really are contagious.

"...Senior Brother, let me explain," he said, voice thick with guilt.

Explain what?!

What possible explanation could make the fact that Peak Lord Shen cried while calling his disciple's name in a dream sound even remotely believable?!

Seeing him speechless, Yue Qingyuan sighed. "Never mind. You're awake now. No explanation is needed."

Shen Qingqiu sat up awkwardly. The scene felt vaguely familiar.

Come to think of it, the first time he'd woken up in this world, Yue Qingyuan had been by his bedside then, too.

Observing his expression, Yue Qingyuan said, "You've been asleep for five days. Do you need to rest more?"

Five days!

Shen Qingqiu nearly toppled back onto the pillows.

Why hadn't he just slept straight through until Tianlang-Jun and his lot showed up to attack?! Sleeping like a log, what was the point of even waking up!

System: [Fill-in Project "Shen Jiu," Completion Progress: 70%]

Only 70%!

Wait, aside from the 10% missing due to incomplete memory data, where was the other 20%? Where had it gone?!

No time to dwell on that. Shen Qingqiu grabbed Yue Qingyuan's sleeve. "Senior Brother, the first day of snowfall! At Luo River!"

Realizing he was too agitated, his words a jumble, he took a steadying breath and adopted a calm, serious expression. "What I mean is, Tianlang-Jun will most likely use the Xin Mo Sword to open a passage between the realms at this exact time and location, beginning the merger."

Yue Qingyuan: "How do you know that?"

Shen Qingqiu stalled again.

Could he say, because the original novel wrote it, and this time and place are the most suitable?!

"...I was in Tianlang-Jun's custody for a time," Shen Qingqiu offered.

Yue Qingyuan: "So he told you directly?"

Caught off guard, Shen Qingqiu couldn't find a reasonable excuse. He could only brace himself and say, "Senior Brother, you must believe me."

Yue Qingyuan looked at him for a long moment, then closed his eyes briefly. He stood up, his tone gentle. "Rest first. Leave this matter to your fellow sect members."

Rest. As in, sleep?

He'd already slept for five days!

A Core Formation cultivator needing this much sleep—if this were any other story, readers would be laughing their heads off!

The moment Yue Qingyuan's footsteps faded, Shen Qingqiu rolled off the bed and began scrambling for his outer robes.

He was turning in frantic circles when someone closed in from behind without a sound, a hand covering his eyes.

Shen Qingqiu instinctively drove an elbow backward. "Who's there?!"

Who else would be so bold, and love to play these childish games with him?

His elbow was caught in a steady grip. A familiar voice whispered by his ear. "Why doesn't Shizun guess?"

He'd already called him 'Shizun'! What was there left to guess!

Shen Qingqiu rolled his eyes—not that the other could see it. The person behind him suddenly wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled, sending them both tumbling onto a nearby bamboo daybed.

Their combined weight made the bamboo slats creak in protest. The hand over his eyes moved away. It was, of course, Luo Binghe.

That same hand now covered Shen Qingqiu's mouth. "Don't blink. Shizun's eyelashes are so long. They tickle my palm... and my heart."

Your eyelashes are the long ones! Yours are the longest in the world!

Shen Qingqiu blinked several dozen times in rapid succession to convey his outrage. Luo Binghe chuckled and pressed a light kiss to his eyelid.

"Don't make a sound," Luo Binghe murmured. "If we were discovered here on Qing Jing Peak, Shizun's hard-earned reputation for purity would be utterly ruined."

Hah.

What reputation? It was already in tatters.

Luo Binghe trailed kisses from Shen Qingqiu's eyes downward. "I said I would come for you. It's been so many days. Did Shizun miss me?"

According to Shen Qingqiu's standard script, the correct response was to drive a knee into the disciple's abdomen, kick the unfilial wretch off the daybed, elegantly straighten his own robes, and deliver a cold, aloof "No."

But somehow, the memory of Luo Binghe kneeling alone in the bamboo hut, silently gathering the pieces of the teacup, flashed before him. His leg refused to lift.

Shen Qingqiu's very breath seemed to tremble within the cage of Luo Binghe's palm.

He closed his eyes and gave a small, nearly imperceptible nod.