Chapter 75

Luo Binghe had clearly braced himself for being kicked off the edge of the bed, completely unprepared for Shen Qingqiu to actually nod.

He froze on top of Shen Qingqiu, his expression locking solid.

Only then did Shen Qingqiu fully process what he’d just done, what that nod had meant. He felt the simultaneous urge to murder the witness and then die of shame himself.

No, no, no, no, no—it’s not what you think! Let me explain!!!

Luo Binghe gave him no such chance. The arm around his waist tightened abruptly, and his voice dropped low. “…You really missed me?”

Shen Qingqiu winced at the constriction. Luo Binghe’s breath grew ragged, pressing insistently. “Really?”

You’re covering my mouth! Even if I wanted to answer, how could I?!

His options were reduced to either nodding or shaking his head.

Shen Qingqiu nodded, then shook his head, a chaotic mess of motion. Luo Binghe grew frantic. “Do you or don’t you?”

Seeing that look on his face again—the one that seemed on the verge of tears—Shen Qingqiu found himself utterly defeated.

A strange sense of tragic resolve washed over him. Casting aside what remained of his dignity, he dragged out the motion, then gave one slow, deliberate nod.

This time, Shen Qingqiu saw it clearly. The moment of confirmation hit, and Luo Binghe’s breath hitched.

A faint spark kindled deep within his pupils. It grew, slow at first, then surged with wildfire intensity, sweeping across his entire face, his whole being.

Just as Shen Qingqiu expected him to weep with joy, Luo Binghe buried his face deep into the crook of Shen Qingqiu’s neck. The hand covering Shen Qingqiu’s mouth slowly loosened, then began to plant a flurry of light, frantic kisses along the corner of his lips. Finally able to breathe, Shen Qingqiu forced two words through his teeth. “…Utter nonsense.”

Luo Binghe murmured against his skin, “I missed you too. So much. There wasn’t a single moment I didn’t…”

The breath Shen Qingqiu had been holding slowly leaked out of him.

He lay on the bamboo bed like a dead fish, staring blankly at the ceiling of the bamboo hut. After a long moment, he sighed. “…Then why didn’t you come find me in the dreamscape these past few days?”

Luo Binghe’s dark, damp eyes fixed on him. “Wouldn’t Shizun find me annoying?”

Pestering me during the day, then pestering me in dreams at night—facing this same face for all twelve hours of the day? Of course it’s annoying!

But somehow, without realizing it, he’d grown accustomed to the pestering. Now, with Luo Binghe sprawled on top of him, Shen Qingqiu found it… not entirely unacceptable…

What is this? What’s happening?!

How had they even gotten to this point? Wasn’t this going a bit too far?!

“If you know you’re annoying, then learn some restraint,” Shen Qingqiu said dryly.

Luo Binghe replied, “Shizun has disliked me from the start anyway. Annoying or not, it makes no difference.”

Hearing that, Shen Qingqiu felt an unexpected pang of sorrow.

Just how much did Luo Binghe like him?

Even back in his early days at Cang Qiong Mountain, after enduring such treatment, the moment Shen Qingqiu showed him the slightest kindness, Luo Binghe had forgotten all the past hurts and, without hesitation, placed him firmly in his heart.

A heart of glass, shattered by Shen Qingqiu without a second thought, then painstakingly pieced back together by its owner like a timid young bride, only to be offered up again with hopeful caution… shattered once more, glued together again…

Luo Binghe whispered, “Shizun always seemed so happy at Cang Qiong Mountain Sect. I thought… you probably didn’t miss me much.”

What nonsense.

Shen Qingqiu had spent so many years perfecting his aloof persona, especially at Cang Qiong Mountain. At most, he’d offer a reserved and meaningful, faint smile, or a perfunctory, hollow smile. When had he ever “laughed heartily”? “Ridiculous,” Shen Qingqiu retorted.

Luo Binghe said, “It’s true Shizun’s face never breaks into a wide smile. But whether Shizun is smiling inside… of course I know.”

Lying on top of someone, whining and acting spoiled while playing with a lock of their hair—are you a little girl?!

Shen Qingqiu rolled his eyes. “Yes. You’re the tapeworm in my gut.”

“I don’t want to be a tapeworm.”

Shen Qingqiu swatted at the hand fiddling with his hair as if swatting a mosquito. “Then what do you want to be?! Tell me, exactly who have I ever smiled at?!” He punctuated each few words with another swat, but that idle, restless hand refused to retreat. Luo Binghe actually began counting. “Many people. Liu… Liu-shishu, Sect Leader Yue, Shang Qinghua, Ming Fan, Senior Sister Ning, the ladies from Xianshu Peak, the disciples from Wan Jian Peak, Qian Cao Peak, Qiong Ding Peak, Bai Zhan Peak, the gate guards, the stair sweepers…”

Even the gate guards and stair sweepers aren’t spared?! This kid doesn’t just hold grudges—he’s about to drown the entire Cang Qiong Mountain Sect in his specially imported, extra-strength, aged demon-realm vinegar!

“That ‘Shishu’ lacked sincerity,” Shen Qingqiu criticized. “Don’t call him that in the future.”

Luo Binghe grumbled resentfully, “He calls me ‘little beast’ and ‘ungrateful wolf.’ Now that was sincere.”

Shen Qingqiu couldn’t help but laugh. The folding fan lay beside the bed. He grabbed it and tapped it lightly against Luo Binghe’s forehead. “Was he wrong? What are you if not a little beast? Daring to stretch your wolf’s paws all over me.”

The words flowed out too smoothly. He didn’t even notice he’d lost his usual restraint. The sentence ended with an upturned corner of his mouth, the tone teasing, light yet weighted, utterly improper.

Looking down from above, Luo Binghe took in this sight. A nameless fire ignited in his chest and lower abdomen, restless and prickly. Unconsciously, he shifted, sliding one leg between Shen Qingqiu’s knees. Afraid of being discovered and kicked off the bamboo bed, he quickly ducked his head forward, letting Shen Qingqiu tap him with the fan to his heart’s content. “Even if I am a little beast, I’m only Shizun’s little beast. No one else is allowed to call me that.”

Shen Qingqiu nearly snapped the folding fan in half.

So corny.

So damn corny.

A mix of sourness and itchiness! Numbness and a strange thrill!

No. This couldn’t continue. Shen Qingqiu decided to steer the conversation toward serious matters, to wrench this increasingly bizarre atmosphere back on track.

He poked Luo Binghe’s chest with the fan, using it for leverage. “Get up.”

To discuss serious matters, one first needed proper posture. With one person pinning the other, any topic, no matter how solemn, would inevitably turn indecent. Luo Binghe seemed reluctant but finally climbed off, sitting on the edge of the bed.

After sleeping for five days, Shen Qingqiu’s old back felt broken. Finally, he could sit up straight. He imagined he looked like a grumpy old man, grimacing as he rubbed his aching back and legs. To an observer, however, the picture was quite different.

His hair was slightly disheveled, spilling over his shoulders. The collar of his inner robe was askew, revealing a pale stretch of neck and shoulder, his Adam’s apple and collarbones clearly defined. The recent tussle on the bed had flushed his cheeks with a faint pink. Frowning, he remained silent, head bowed as he kneaded the small of his back.

Luo Binghe’s eyes didn’t leave him for a second. He leaned closer and began slowly massaging the spot. Shen Qingqiu said with satisfaction, “Good. Considerate.”

“Shizun doesn’t yet know how much more considerate I can be,” Luo Binghe replied.

So good at currying favor. Just as Shen Qingqiu was about to steer the conversation to the main topic, Luo Binghe continued. “When the time comes to face Tianlang-jun, if Shizun needs any help, just call for me.”

Shen Qingqiu had been avoiding the topic of Tianlang-jun, afraid of provoking Luo Binghe. He truly hadn’t expected Luo Binghe to bring it up himself.

Shen Qingqiu pondered for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “Your father…”

Luo Binghe buried his head in Shen Qingqiu’s shoulder, his voice muffled. “I have no father. Only Shizun.”

…

Why does that make me sound like I’m your dad?!

Shen Qingqiu brushed aside the awkward feeling and said seriously, “If it’s too difficult for you, don’t force yourself.”

No matter how eccentric he was, he was still Luo Binghe’s father. Still someone Luo Binghe had once secretly admired—even if the reality was far from the figure he’d idealized.

Luo Binghe’s hands never stopped their massage. He said indifferently, “It’s not difficult.”

Shen Qingqiu observed him closely. Indeed, his expression was… genuinely, sincerely willing to help gang up on someone. No trace of reluctance.

This was actually a good thing. If Luo Binghe was truly willing to join forces with the cultivation world to repel Tianlang-jun, not only would the human side gain a formidable ally, but Luo Binghe could also massively boost his positive reputation, offsetting the negative points he’d accrued at Zhao Hua Temple.

Shen Qingqiu felt slightly relieved, then immediately a bit guilty.

Ganging up with the son to scheme against the father… that’s not exactly honorable.

After a thoughtful pause, Shen Qingqiu said, “Sect Leader likely won’t allow me to take part in the battle.”

Before leaving, Yue Qingyuan had told him to rest well, that “this matter can be left to your fellow sect members.” The message was clear: he wasn’t to participate. Shen Qingqiu continued, “The first snow. Luo River. You should pay close attention to that time and place.”

The pressure of Luo Binghe’s fingers on his waist softened. His voice grew gentle. “Sometimes, I feel Shizun understands certain matters… a little too well.”

Thump. Shen Qingqiu’s heart skipped a beat.

Had he gotten carried away?

Luo Binghe went on. “Like back in the Holy Mausoleum. Shizun had clearly never entered it before, yet you knew the layout of the tomb chambers and the guardian demons inside like the back of your hand, and knew how to use them to your advantage.”

Shen Qingqiu deliberately kept his tone light. “The Qing Jing Peak archives hold countless texts. They’re not mere paper and ink. Among all those volumes, there’s always some useful information.”

Luo Binghe made a noncommittal sound. Having finished with the waist, he began slowly combing his fingers through Shen Qingqiu’s hair, which spilled down his back. “This disciple has read those texts as well, but I didn’t see so much. I’m still far behind Shizun.”

Damn it. How could he forget? Luo Binghe had that heaven-defying genius cheat. When he said he’d “read” the dusty old books on Qing Jing Peak, it meant he’d “memorized them backwards and forwards.” Of course he knew exactly what “useful information” they did or didn’t contain.

This wasn't Yue Qingyuan. The Sect Leader would let a matter drop if Shen Qingqiu didn’t wish to speak of it, but Luo Binghe was a different beast entirely—the type to hound a question to its bitter, buried root. He wasn’t so easily brushed off. Shen Qingqiu was desperately racking his brain for a plausible detour around this conversational dead-end when a voice chimed from outside the bamboo hut.

"Shizun, you're awake, aren't you? May Yingying come in?"

A good child! What an obedient disciple!

"Leave. Now," Shen Qingqiu whispered, the words tight.

Luo Binghe’s hands stilled. "Why must I be the one to leave? Why not them?"

Ming Fan’s voice boomed out next, adding to the chorus. "Shizun! Several Peak Lords have arrived. Are you… decent?"

Why so many at once!

Shen Qingqiu vaulted from the bed, shoving Luo Binghe toward the window. The demon lord went, but not without a backward glance. "So Shizun enjoys these clandestine moments…"

Thwack! A folding fan connected with his forehead. "Who exactly is the one being clandestine here? Whose fault is this?!"

Why did every interaction have to feel like a sordid affair?!

Luo Binghe slipped noiselessly over the windowsill. A hand snaked back in, capturing Shen Qingqiu’s, its grip unsettlingly gentle. "Shizun… once all these matters are settled… will you come away with me?"

"This master is still the Lord of Qing Jing Peak," Shen Qingqiu deflected. If Luo Binghe wished to see him, he could simply visit. Why this talk of leaving? The Ballad of Chunshan would surely get new material! In the end, it was his own damned pride, too brittle to bend.

"I thought you might say that," Luo Binghe sighed, the sound carrying a weight of resigned expectation.

The window had just clicked shut when the bamboo door groaned open. Qi Qingqi’s voice preceded her, sharp and bright as she swept the curtain aside, revealing a face of vivid, impatient beauty.

"Getting more delicate by the day, aren’t we?" she quipped, pursing her lips. "Did those few staff strikes at Zhao Hua Temple make you cough up blood? Five days asleep!"

Shen Qingqiu turned, adopting an air of frail dignity. "Junior Sister Qi, you’ve always known my constitution is weak."

"What I’ve always known," she snorted, "is that you attract trouble like a magnet."

She entered, followed by Liu Mingyan, who offered a silent, graceful bow. Behind her came Liu Qingge. Ming Fan and Ning Yingying trailed at the rear with Mu Qingfang. The modest bamboo hut suddenly felt cramped, crowded with presence. A cold sweat broke on Shen Qingqiu’s neck. Thank the heavens he’d made Luo Binghe exit via the window. Hiding him here would have been impossible.

Mu Qingfang smiled warmly. "As I said, Senior Brother Shen’s complexion is fine. No abnormalities. He truly was just sleeping. Will you believe me now?"

Muttering apologies, Shen Qingqiu gestured for the visiting Peak Lords to sit. His eyes tracked Liu Qingge, who had entered and immediately begun scanning the room with a predator’s intensity, his gaze like shards of winter ice.

"Junior Brother Liu," Shen Qingqiu called out, forcing calm into his voice. "I am right here."

Liu Qingge’s piercing survey halted, snapping to focus on Shen Qingqiu. His question was a blade, clean and direct.

"Who was just here?"