Chapter Text
They say a broken heart is useless, that without the will to beat, and without the means to go on, it is without purpose and serves no more use than a torn sail does to a ship stuck out at sea.
He disagreed wholeheartedly.
For it was the broken hearts that thought so creatively, it was the broken hearts that searched endlessly for answers that they could never supply, it was the broken hearts that led the greatest of marches and ended the most violent of wars, and it was the broken-hearted that welcomed him.
He remembers not much from his time as a child, only that he was raised by his brothers–both of whom were older than him, a seven and eight-year difference—that they both did their best even as children themselves to take care of him. To make sure he ate enough and was protected when he was sick.
He ignored the fact that he looked like a replica of both of them mixed. None of them ever spoke about how he looked six parts like his Er-ge and four parts like his Da-ge, and the fact that they never told him which one of them he was biologically related to as a result, yet it was always well known that the two were not biologically related to each other by any means.
They lived on the streets of any town they went through, and the human traffickers couldn’t stay in one place for exceedingly long, so they moved at least once a year. He didn’t mind back then, his Da-ge always turned it into a game for him, telling him to count how many red houses they passed, how many horses he saw, and how many fat men walked by unnoticing of the three boys who hid under the tarp of one of the wagons.
His Er-ge was crueler in comparison to his Da-ge, always yelling at someone, he never liked the other slave children, always running them away from his territory and never letting them play with his Didi. He never minded back then, the other kids scared him, they were much bigger than he was, and he wasn’t good at talking.
The human traffickers used to like him. He always heard them say that since he was the smallest and sickliest among them, he was the best for begging. They used to push a ratty old blanket in his arms and send him out to street corners, pinching his cheeks and his arms until he bruised and started crying, then ordering him to sit there until it got dark so people would take pity on him and give him money.
He never understood those days, only that afterward his eyes would be sore, his arms and cheeks would be sore, and his brothers would be upset. His Da-ge always hugged him, comforting him and braiding his hair while his Er-ge used words he hadn’t been allowed to say back then, yelling, and shouting until his energy was spent and he would join him and Da-ge to sit down and fall asleep together.
In comparison to the rest of his life, he missed those cold nights on the street. Even though they were sickly and their bellies were constantly empty, at least they had each other. At least they could still speak together, play together, and at least he could still see them.
The start of his unfortunate life started the day his brothers saved one of the other slave children from Qiu Jianluo’s horse. His Er-ge, otherwise known as Shen Jiu, turned a rock into a dagger and stabbed his horse. His Da-ge, Yue Qi, had been the one to run ahead and try to help the boy, but he had almost gotten trampled, and his Er-ge stepped in before he could get hurt.
It had ended badly, very, very badly.
Qiu Jianluo took his brother and himself. He wasn’t sure why he had taken him, but all he knew was that he had been locked in a strange room without either of his brothers, alone and scared. He started crying immediately, calling out for his brothers, and wailing until someone came inside.
It was the young mistress of the house; Qiu Haitang, she had heard someone crying so heart-wrenchingly that she of course had to go inside that room and see who could be crying so wretchedly.
Instead, she found a sickly, scrawny, and pale six-year-old who shivered and cried harder when she came inside. She had told him to stop his crying, that he clearly wasn’t that badly hurt, and he should know better than to make such a fuss. He obeyed her quickly, terrified that the young master he had seen before would come back and yell at him as he had when he first took him and his Er-ge.
She had then taken him to get cleaned up, redressed in the nicest robes he had ever owned, and even started calling him Didi. He never got to see his Er-ge in those walls, no matter how he begged Qiu Haitang, she always told him that his brother was busy and that he was her servant to play with, so he shouldn’t be concerned about anyone else but her.
He learned early on to never question her.
While the young mistress was quite nice to him, even though she only saw him as a mere plaything rather than a person, that brother of hers…was by no means as kind or understanding.
The few times Qiu Jinaluo had heard him crying or walked in on him begging Qiu Haitang to let him see his brother, he had earned himself a good few slaps to the face, maybe even a few good kicks to the ribs if Qiu Haitang wasn’t there.
He learned that to keep himself alive and safe, he had to be silent. It was better to just never speak unless spoken to, only stealing glances to the courtyard that Qiu Jinluo possessed and praying that he might just catch a glimpse of his brother, which he rarely ever did, and when they saw each other, Shen Jiu always looked on the verge of committing terrible acts of rage.
Shen Yuan learned that it was best not to look.
Three years went by in that house where he rarely ever saw his brother. If they were allowed to see each other, it was only briefly, just long enough that Shen Jiu could hug him and pat him down for injuries. In which he would bite his tongue and keep himself from crying every time his brother touched a fresh bruise.
In the end, however, they weren’t allowed to spend all that much time alone together. Qiu Jinluo once heard Shen Jiu bad-mouthing him and planned on escaping with his brother in tow; he had thoroughly beaten both Shen brothers until a few older servants had to come to take away a bloody Shen Jiu and the near-unconscious little brother.
All the while, he spat and hissed. “Jiu and Shi, huh? No wonder you’re named so ridiculously! We can’t trust you two alone together!”
Despite being near unconscious, he loathed that he couldn’t speak up to say that his brothers had named him better, that ‘Shi’ was not his name, and it never would be.
One day, Qiu Haitang demanded that they leave the estate to spend a few nights in a few towns over where a large shopping district was.
He had been less than enthused to leave, but they had only been gone for a few days when they returned only to see the remains of the Qiu manor. Everyone, aside from a few women, was dead, the manor burned down, and the entire Qiu family, aside from Qiu Haitang, was dead.
Qiu Haitang cried over and over that it wasn’t fair that her fiancé was dead and gone just like her brother, that fate was truly so unfair and cruel. He wholeheartedly agreed with her as he did his best to comfort her, the petty and bitter part of his heart flaring to life at the idea of his brother ever having to marry into that family.
For some time, they lived in a smaller estate associated with the family. The servants that were left were undyingly loyal, raising Qiu Haitang and himself until the day he turned eleven.
He had come down with a terrible fever, so sick that even Qiu Haitang’s shouting couldn’t get him to stir. She ended up crying at his bedside, worried sick that her precious Didi was dying, and she would be left all alone with not even the last shard of her fiancé to remember the good old days.
He had come out of the fever, sweaty and disgusting. The entire week he had been sick, Qiu Haitang had only visited him once or twice, and then he was left to his own devices. Writhing in pain and terrified. He remembered the entire time he prayed that he’d die, that this damned fever would kill him, and he could see his Er-ge again.
He didn’t know what happened to his Da-ge, he hadn’t seen him since he was six years old, maybe he was gone too? If he was, then he’d see him again, and if he weren’t he’d wait for him at the gates and welcome him with open arms.
Unfortunately, fate truly was a cruel thing, and he had survived. Only to be continuously shunned in his room, given barely anything to drink or eat until the day that man came.
That man was cruel, even worse than Qiu Jinluo had been. He lied to Qiu Haitang and the other servants, telling them that he was the owner of a boarding house that specifically trained Omegas in the four gentlemanly arts while also teaching them how to live a proper and polite life.
He had never hated someone so much in his life.
Of course, they had believed him. Since none of the servants or Qiu Haitang were Omegas, they had no clue how to take care of him, so they sent him on his merry way with a total stranger after collecting a hefty sum of money for their troubles.
He hadn’t even been surprised when he came upon the “boarding house,” only to realize it was in fact a brothel.
That wasn’t to say he wasn’t taught.
No, he was taught.
Cruelly.
Chen Qiang was a cruel old man who was not understanding and loathed sloppiness and mistakes. He was not a fair teacher, and he did not teach with patience; his rules were “Either get it right, or sleep in the cellar.”
He knew that damned cellar on a personal level.
The men Chen Qiang invited over randomly, and the natural patrons of that brothel were no better. Just as cruel and just as disgusting. Many of them hollered at him when he was still young, telling him to dress appropriately for his job, despite him being a child and a boy.
There had been many a time when he had to run to the broom closet and hide from them.
The only light in the darkness of that awful place had been Bai Daiyu, the brothel master's favored concubine and the only person he dared to trust in that awful place.
Whenever he cried, she wiped his tears. Whenever he ran away, terrified, she would chase away those awful people and track him down to reassure him. When he was punished, she wiped away the blood and patted the bruises, smiling at him with reassuring words and comforting embraces.
She had been the only good thing he had in years.
So, of course, as was the cruelty of fate, she had to die.
She died when the brothel burned down, when he ran back to the brothel after having been sent away. He rode back on the horse he had been sent with and was barely able to stand as he fought with all of his might to get into the burning building and then with all he had left to get her out.
At fourteen years old, Bai Daiyu died in his arms, handing over her most prized possession that she had specifically crafted for him, leaving him alone in the world, unable to speak and unable to cry out for help.
He had tried to die again a few days after, once he set loose the horse he had ridden back with, letting the creature decide its own fate as he wandered farther and farther away from the burning hell and into the snowy woods of late winter.
He had taken his place at the bank of a powerful river and lay in the snow, awaiting death to finally meet him. He couldn’t speak, and he had been in unbearable pain; he saw no point in living, and he wanted nothing more than to be reunited with Bai Daiyu and his brothers.
Of course, he failed, because he always failed.
Guang Lieshui: the Peak Lord of Qing Jing. She found him at the bank of that river, the snow beneath him stained with crimson blood that still seeped from his wounds.
She took him back to Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, where she then learned of his past through his ability to write and that he sustained injuries greater than even he could bear, and he was left unable to speak without irritating his vocal cords and coughing up a mouthful of blood on the spot.
She had asked him if he wished to keep his identity a secret; if he didn’t want anyone to know of his past, his name, or even his gender domination. Of course, he had said yes, and so, the amulet he was gifted as a final parting gift from Bai Daiyu was used to create a domination suppressant amulet. It was not hard to do, and it was done quickly. His name was changed, and Guang Lieshui swore a vow of silence to him that unless he specifically asked it of her, she would never speak of word of his past, his true name, or even his gender domination.
When he was taken back to Cang Qiong, he had been first instructed to sit through the unbearable torture it was to have his wounds tended to by the Peak Lord of Qian Cao, and then he was taken to Qing Jing Peak to collect his robes and meet his peak siblings.
It was there that he saw them.
It was there that he felt his heart leap from unfamiliar joy, all the while shattering from heartbreaking betrayal.
His Er-ge was there. The head disciple of Qing Jing, healthy and strong, and with him, his Da-ge; Yue Qi, the head disciple of Qiong Ding Peak. Both tall and powerful in stature, while his Er-ge was lean he held a serene power like that of a willow branch, while his Da-ge was a bit broader and held a power like that of an unmovable mountain.
He had done his best to not jump to conclusions, but he couldn’t help but feel a new sense of loneliness when his brothers saw him walking with the Peak Lord and had both bounded forward and crushed him in twin hugs that irritated his wounds and made his body ache.
Guang Lieshui spoke for him, telling them that he had been sick when she found him and as such could not speak. So, they hadn’t questioned his inability. He tried his best to smile at them, but it had been the scents that hit his nose despite the amulet that made him freeze.
They were both Alphas.
He had been complacent with Guang Lieshui and the Qian Cao Peak Lord only because they had both been Betas. But his brothers…they were Alphas?
A new sense of betrayal overcame him, one that was not fair, and one that he hated himself more for, rather than his brothers.
He hadn’t been given much time to catch up with either of them when Guang Lieshui ordered him to follow her, and he had been a little too relieved to be free from his brothers' sights.
Things hadn’t gotten better from there.
He didn’t grow close to his brothers as he wished he could have. He couldn’t speak to them no matter how he tried. When his throat healed enough, he could speak quietly and for a short amount of time, he still was left unable due to the fear that would unnaturally overcome him the second he came close to them.
Shen Jiu…Shen Qingqiu saw his hesitance and did not push him, if anything taking his reluctance too close to his heart and even started avoiding his baby brother himself.
It hurt him in ways he was unable to understand.
His Da-ge, on the other hand, always pushed, always tried. But he never saw him that much, and he found that no matter his Da-ge’s pushing, he was unable to last in a conversation with him, always ending with him falling silent and not saying another word.
Not to mention, it was clear that his Da-ge and Er-ge were no longer as close as they once were. His Er-ge treated his Da-ge cruelly; he yelled at him and didn’t let him get close. If Yue Qi…Yue Qingyuan tried to talk to him first, but Shen Qingqiu would somehow always show up and get angry at Yue Qingyuan for apparently trying to “turn their brother against him.”
He had been unable, all but once, to actually speak up and try to stop the fighting.
However, the second he had spoken, it was enough to catch both his brothers off guard. But he had said the wrong thing, and while it would have hurt less if it came from his Er-ge, his Da-ge said, “I don’t believe it’s of anything for Tianyan to worry about…he doesn’t even bear the name we gave him…” The last part had been muttered, clearly not having meant to be heard, but he had heard it.
It hurt.
His name was not “Tianyan.”
That was the name Guang Lieshui had given him to hide his identity.
His name was not “Shi.”
His name was not “Tianyan.”
His birth-given name, the name his brothers gave him, the name he wished someone would call him by, at the very least to help remind him, was “Yuan.” He was not Shen Shi, he was not Shen Tianyan, he was Shen Yuan.
But it seemed that even his brothers had forgotten that.
He had left without even so much as a nod to either of them and none of them spoke to each other for some time after.
This wasn’t to say that he didn’t try to be cordial with his sect siblings; he even tried to make friends. It was just…he wasn’t good at it. He had never been allowed to as a child, and he didn’t know how to communicate with people outside of speaking, and speaking wasn’t always the best option.
For some time, he was only seen as a study helper by his Shixiong and Shijie, his Shimei and Shidi didn’t like him as much because he was brothers with Shen Qingqiu, and they feared that they could get in trouble if they got too close to him.
He was fine with this; however, it would have been better if a lot of people didn’t like him. It would cause too many problems, too many people meant too many people could hurt him, and that meant too many people could find out the truth.
Eventually, he became closed off, he didn’t remember what happened, or what caused it. But it happened suddenly and without true cause, he didn’t try as much as he should’ve, though he still saw the logic in having some allies, but he didn’t look for friends anymore.
It was only when he met Liu Qingge that he truly gave up on becoming cordial with any of his sect brothers or sisters.
He knew just from his brother's random ranting to him that he disliked the head disciple of Bai Zhan Peak, always calling him a barbarian and boneheaded, impulsive fool, but he had always taken it with a grain of salt. His Er-ge just didn’t like people in general.
However, when he met Liu Qingge himself for the first time, he was captivated wholly. He watched the precision of his movements, the power behind every move and parry of his sword. To say the least, he had been impressed, and only mildly hesitant when he nodded respectfully in greeting the older disciple, despite him obviously being an Alpha.
He had only muttered his name when Liu Qingge asked for it when he saw the older disciple’s robes open minutely to reveal the left side of his chest. He recognized the mark that was painted on his skin like a natural tattoo immediately, and his stomach sank when he saw it.
Personally, he never cared for his soulmark; he didn’t care to meet his soulmates. It was already strange enough that he had two, but he couldn’t speak, he didn’t enjoy the company of most people, and he couldn’t even talk to his brothers anymore about these types of things. What need did he have for any more people who would just turn their backs on him?
Liu Qingge liked him just as much as he favored him. Apparently, his name alone was enough to make the Bai Zhan Peak head disciple sneer and turn away from him, having already made up his mind that he didn’t want to associate with the younger brother of his bitter rival, and said little brother was all that much more grateful for it.
He didn’t want his soulmates, and it was clear that at least one of them didn’t want him.
For a moment, when he turned away and left, he remembered a time when he would have cried at Liu Qingge’s cold shoulder, asking him if he had done something wrong, perhaps even apologizing and trying to make amends with the person who shared the mark on his chest.
But at that moment, not a single fraction of his heart could care.
As though a desolate land of thorns, he felt nothing.
He was better off that way.
He clapped and congratulated his brothers when they both took their positions as Peak Lords, and his Da-ge took the mantle of Sect Leader. Many of his Shixiong and Shijie planned to leave the mountain, traveling around the Jianghu to make a name for themselves and see everything there was to see.
He planned to leave with them, travel for some years, and perhaps come back if he felt so inclined.
It hadn’t worked as he had hoped.
He told his brothers one night when he asked them both to come with him to a small restaurant in the town near the mountain, it was dark out, and it was quiet. For the first time in years, he spoke somewhat confidently, his voice actually reaching past his normal volume, despite how it made his throat a little sore.
They weren’t close; he talked to his Er-ge when they were near each other, though it was mainly him listening to his Er-ge speak while he either hummed an agreement or disagreement, and he and his Da-ge only spoke during sect meetings where his Er-ge quite literally demanded he attend with him.
He had honestly expected his brothers to let him go, even encourage him to leave. What use did they have for him anyway? A near-mute brother who held no close relations with either of them or anyone else in the sect? Someone who had caused them nothing but grief since he returned, why would they ask him to stay?
They hadn’t asked him to stay. They ordered him to stay.
At first, he thought they were just shooting off from the mouth, and they would change their minds. He had ignored their immediate denial and showed them the qiankun pouch he had already packed with all the things he would need; he reassured them he would be fine and had stood to leave.
The last thing he’d expected was for both of them to take him by the arms and practically drag him back up the mountain without so much as hearing him out, even when he tried to persuade them.
It was the first time in years they had fought.
It was the first time in years that he yelled.
It was the first time in years he tasted blood in his mouth and felt his throat tear from his old wound.
It would not be the first nor the last time he turned away from his brothers with a hand over his mouth and ignored his Er-ge as he shouted for him to stay put and listen to them.
For some time, their relationship never recovered. He stayed on Qing Jing Peak, taking his residence in the very back of the peak in a small cottage that had been abandoned, he took on the responsibility of teaching guqin classes and had even taken the role of Shifu to some of the disciples.
His brother never commented on this “Shifu,” while he had expected his brother to become offended in some way, Shen Qingqiu seemed to actually encourage it, and it had been the start of their recovery.
Shen Qingqiu talked; he would listen. He would attempt to speak; Shen Qingqiu would hear him out for a moment until his Didi’s voice faded out. It was a mild existence, not entirely peaceful, but not the constant struggle and fight that it had been.
That mild existence was interrupted by the young disciple, who was led to kneel before Shen Qingqiu and Shen Tianyan. He wasn’t supposed to be there, but he had been playing the guqin for his brother when Ning Yingying led the young boy to the door upon Shen Qingqiu’s request.
He had expected it to just be another disciple who would come to join Qing Jing. The boy had a youthful air of hope about him, the sparkle of his obsidian eyes had made him feel a little hopeful for the boy himself.
That was until his brother crushed both of their expectations with a mere cup of tea.
His hand had shot out, and it burned, but he didn’t pull back, already worried that half of it had hit the boy’s head. Shen Qingqiu looked positively livid, but had otherwise left without a word with Ming Fan, the head disciple, following behind him.
That boy had been Luo Binghe, a little white sheep that Shen Yuan loathed to admit he had been unable to comfort at the time, only able to offer a single pat on the shoulder when the boy cried and asked him why his Shizun rejected him so cruelly.
Shen Tainyan was known as the Shifu of Qing Jing; it was his responsibility to make sure the disciples of the next generation learned well and that he taught them dutifully. It was also his job to make sure that those disciples lived good lives, which had become increasingly harder and harder to do with that Luo Binghe boy.
Since his brother targeted him directly.
There had been many of fights, many of shouting matches that ended with the Shifu of Qing Jing covering his mouth with his hand, feigning contempt, and annoyance so he wouldn’t have to explain himself before leaving and another cold shoulder match was held between him and Shen Qingqiu.
He did all that he could…at least he thought he had. He scared off Ming Fan and those bullies, encouraged Ning Yingying to be kind to that Shidi of hers, and offered Luo Binghe help through a proper manuscript and the room that was connected to the outside of his cottage when his brother ordered him to sleep in the woodshed.
Of course, there had been times when Ming Fan was sent to drag Luo Binghe back himself, and it resulted in yet another fight, but Shen Tianyan… thought he had done well enough to help where he could. He was not particularly friendly; he and Luo Binghe didn’t speak, but he thought his interference was helpful enough.
No one enjoyed speaking to him.
Despite the disciples calling him Shifu, they did not speak to him, they did not come to him out of their free will, and they did not trust him. He knew some of them feared his cold and silent nature even more than they feared Shen Qingqiu’s abrasive and hot-tempered nature.
So, he had never tried to do something different for Luo Binghe. He thought he was making the right decision, especially when the boy presented as an Alpha, and his soulmark appeared.
He hadn’t meant to see it. It really had been an accident, but Luo Binghe had come down with a severe fever—almost as bad as the one he had when he presented—and what kind of cruel and hypocritical teacher would he be if he just let the poor young man suffer through that all alone just as he had?
He had done nothing more than make sure he had food and water and a cold compress on his chest and head, his amulet hiding his true nature, so Luo Binghe only saw him as a Beta and recognized him as his teacher. He stayed even after he saw it.
On the right side of the mark, there was a book bound in green silk with flowers sprouting from the spine. On the left, there was a sword with a bright silver blade and a light blue tassel with a jade pendant attached to the hilt. In the background, surrounding the two other features, were black flames and a red mark that he did not personally recognize.
It was unmistakable and undeniable.
A part of himself felt pity for this disciple. How unfortunate a fate it was to have him as a soulmate. Someone who didn’t want his soulmates, someone who couldn’t feel even a shred of the wonders of emotions one was meant to feel for their soulmate, and someone who was nothing less than a pathological liar.
He didn’t know if Liu Qingge and Luo Binghe could both get along; he hadn’t heard of two Alphas being soulmates before, but it wasn’t unheard of despite its rarity. When he thought more about it, the idea seemed plausible. Luo Binghe was a bright young man and obviously had the potential for greatness, and Liu Qingge always enjoyed a challenge.
He and Liu Qingge were on applicable terms, he helped him once in the Lingxi Caves when he had a Qi deviation during the attack from those demons, but that had only been once, and he had suffered a good few blows from the Peak Lord for his trouble among a few other injures after the fact during the actual fight between Cang Qiong and the intruders.
He was no challenge for Liu Qingge and no match for him in any aspect aside from musical cultivation, whatever gods or fates had decided that he should be linked with not only the War God of Bai Zhan, but the blooming lotus that was Luo Binghe, were cruel, and he would proclaim it as such until his final breath.
At the very least, he had a mild hope in his heart for the prosperity of both of them.
Without him.
After his presentation, Shen Tianyan made sure to distance himself from the closest disciple he had. It would do neither of them any good if Luo Binghe found out, so he acted the same as he did with Liu Qingge. Cold and distant but respectful.
He would soon regret it after the Immortal Alliance Conference.
He had been helping the other disciples; he hadn’t found Luo Binghe or the others he had been with yet, but the scene he came upon was heart-wrenching and would forever haunt his nightmares.
He knew his brother to be cruel, to be unfair, but this? He had never expected this.
Luo Binghe was already at the edge when he arrived, and he was pushed down even after Shen Tianyan gathered up all his strength and yelled from the pit of his stomach, immediately coughing up blood afterward.
Shen Qingqiu had turned the second the disciple was out of sight and had reached out for his brother. Reassuring him and telling him that Luo Binghe was a demon, that he was no more, and that he was no longer responsible for such a beast.
He had slapped the hand away from him and stormed off with the shards of Zheng Yang in his arms without so much as listening to a word of what his brother had said.
He didn’t want soulmates, he didn’t want people close to him, and he wasn’t good in matters of the heart.
But even he knew this was wrong. He knew that this was terrible and that it hurt him somewhere in his old and battered heart, even though he could not recognize it, and he knew that Luo Binghe didn’t deserve his fate.
The next five years were held in silence between him and his brother.
He didn’t even speak to his Da-ge.
Seclusion was easier for him, cultivating in private and trying to fix the remains of his broken body to almost no avail. His scars would never leave, his throat would never fully heal, and his meridians would always be a little shattered. There would always be that bit of poison within himself that he had to go to the Lingxi caves to remedy himself without the help of anyone else or the aid of Qian Cao.
His existence was pitiful and utterly useless, but it was mild.
He did all that he could, he helped where he could, and he hoped silently that he was a good enough person that the fates could at least look at him indifferently and not with contempt.
Clearly, he had been wrong, and the fates truly did hate him.
When Luo Binghe returned, he returned with power and a title to his name. He returned with women of a vast number on his arm, he returned with Huan Hua Palace, and he returned for revenge.
Shen Tianyan was no saint, he was not free of guilt nor blood on his hands, he could understand someone’s desires for revenge to make sure the perpetrator reaped what they had sewn.
But this…all of this, had Luo Binghe truly suffered so much?
Had he utterly failed so badly?