Chapter Text
Luo Binghe remembers the teeth of Shrieking Fire Lizard. Full mouth of them, in too many rows to count, and each as sharp as a tiny, venomous sword. He remembers the way those teeth clenched around his thigh, cutting and burning and tearing at his skin and flesh.
And yet, none of it hurt as much as seeing his shizun, clad in brilliant crimson robes, getting married to another man.
Back in the Abyss, he tore the Shrieking Fire Lizard away, only for dozens more to appear, seemingly out of nowhere, latching at him, melting his hair and eating him alive. Those wounds took the longest time to heal.
Will he be able to heal from the sight of Liu Qingge, landing effortlessly next to a bamboo house, wearing all red? Luo Binghe isn’t so sure.
Liu Qingge looks serious, as he always does, but his eyes, fixed on Shen Qingqiu, betray his feelings. Luo Binghe wonders if his shizun looks at the Bai Zhan brute with the same expression. He wonders if he even wants to know.
At this point, Luo Binghe is almost thankful for his position — being hidden behind the thick bamboo, only seeing shizun’s back. He might not handle it well, if he sees the person he aches for being happy with someone as undeserving, as-
“Let’s get this over with.” He hears Shen Qingqiu’s voice, weak and tired, but still easily recognizable to him, even through the quiet, nervous chatter of gathered Peak Lords.
It’s enough for Luo Binghe to act. He tears through bamboo, straightens his shoulders, and strides confidently in the direction of the small crowd. He feels the phantom pain in his chest, right where his only scar is located. His heart is beating too hard and too fast. Years in hell, crying and begging and raging, and now, now he will see the face of the person who sent him there. The face of his shizun, who seemingly moved on, cast him aside like the trash he is, but.
But there was something in his voice, something that got Luo Binghe’s feet moving on their own.
And there is something in Luo Binghe’s chest that is burning and it won’t be soothed by anything but his shizun.
If shizun is happy with what is undeniably a quickly made up wedding, will Luo Binghe let it happen? Come back another day to ask his questions and demand his answers?
His aching, burning heart is beating so fast. His eyes threaten to overflow with either tears or red glow.
It was supposed to be me, he can’t help but think, you were supposed to marry me.
He will not let shizun get married, Luo Binghe realizes. He might have to kill Liu Qingge, if it comes to that.
Shen Qingqiu is not the first to notice him. Yue Qingyuan gives him a surprised look, dimmed eyes widening for a second. Liu Qingge’s frown deepens.
“Aren’t you dead?” He asks in his usual, idiotic manner.
Luo Binghe doesn’t answer. Because, hearing Liu Qingge say that, Shen Qingqiu starts to turn.
A breath, a moment and Luo Binghe will see him. He feels starved and half crazed.
“Shizun,” Luo Binghe says, “Is this one late to celebration?”
A sharp intake of air and suddenly Luo Binghe is, once again, a sole proprietor of those green eyes. They’re the only thing he sees for a short, dizzying moment. Then, he blinks and lets himself look at his shizun, really look at him.
He almost wishes he didn’t.
“Shizun?” He gasps.
***
Shen Qingqiu doesn’t know immediately he’s cursed. Sure, maybe he’s lost some weight. Maybe his arm feels a little heavier than usual. Maybe he’s a little lightheaded from time to time, but what of it? He’s waiting for his impending death, which will be long and painful, who would have a good appetite in a situation like this?
Weeks go by, he rarely leaves the house, and everything is fine, even if some of his students keep looking at him like he might faint any minute now.
And then he does faint.
The whole next day is a blur — Mu Qingfang with his needles and familiar qi, Yue Qingyuan with his guilty expressions, Liu Qingge trying to break through the Without-A-Cure blockage that is just isn’t there.
It’s a Fading Curse. Stupid fucking wife plot that makes his body slowly fade away in the most dramatic and tragically beautiful way. Shen Yuan remembers reading about that, what feels like a lifetime ago — another beautiful maiden fell victim to a mysterious disease, origins of which weren’t even mentioned, and started to lose her life force.
Of course, since she was a future wife, she couldn’t be slowly dying in a real way — her hair didn’t fall out, her teeth were just fine, and even by the time she was barely breathing her bladder worked alright. Absolutely unrealistic.
So, Shen Qingqiu is thin, with fragile wrists and shaking fingers, his skin is a fetching porcelain-pale, he’s dizzy all the time and is ready to fall into Luo Binghe’s arms in a very dramatic fashion.
Only Luo Binghe isn’t here. Because Shen Qingqiu tossed him into the Endless Abyss.
Shen Qingqiu thinks, at first, he’s got about enough time in his once-again-dying body for his and Shang Qinghua’s back-ups to be ready. Shen Qingqiu is wrong.
He wakes up one day to a wet pillow. It’s not the first time it’s happened, to his horror, so he just groans and furiously wipes at his face. His hands come out bloody.
“The curse has progressed to its final stage.” Mu Qingfqng says, careful hands wiping at Shen Qingqiu’s cheeks, cleaning blood that won’t stop flowing from his eyes. “The treatment isn’t-”
“This one doesn’t need treatment.” Shen Qingqiu interrupts.
“Allow this shidi to disagree. Shixiong will die, and he will die soon, if he doesn’t-”
“This one will not get married.” Shen Qingqiu snaps.
He will not get someone to marry him. Him! An alive target for Luo Binghe’s ire!
“It doesn’t have to be… real.” Mu Qingfang tries.
As if Luo Binghe will care if it’s real or not. He will probably kill Shen Qingqiu’s fake spouse as an introduction to the torture.
“It doesn’t have to happen at all.”
But plant bodies aren’t ready and Shen Qingqiu gets worse and everyone is worried. He is always accompanied by at least one of his martial brothers, Yue Qingyuan and Liu Qingge being his most common companions.
“You have better things to do.” Shen Qingqiu grunts at Liu Qingge, as he comes to himself after trying to walk across his room and fainting, once again.
“Then marry me.” Liu Qingge says.
And Shen Qingqiu agrees.
The wedding is organized quickly. Everything is ready by the next morning. Shen Qingqiu is dressed by Ming Fan, and it feels all wrong. The whole thing is wrong. He never planned to wear red wedding robes at all, let alone like this. He’s at least thankful for the color of his clothing — blood isn’t that visible on crimson red, and he just can’t stop crying. Pathetic.
The ceremony is to take place right by his bamboo house, since no one trusts him to walk any further. Liu Qingge arrives right in time, dressed impeccably, as a groom who will never become a real husband. One more thing that Shen Qingqiu ruined.
His head is clouded, and he feels a treacherous quiver in his knees. He’s about to fall, again. He wipes his face with a wet, silk kerchief and tries not to fucking cry. Gods.
“Let’s get this over with.” He asks.
There’s movement around him, quiet voices.
“Aren’t you dead?” Liu Qingge asks.
Shen Qingqiu doesn’t think so, though he is certainly close. He looks up, and finds that Liu Qingge isn’t talking to him. There’s someone behind, someone who-
Shen Qingqiu turns around, willing his feet to stay steady.
“Shizun,” Luo Binghe’s eyes are red. It’s bad, though Shen Qingqiu doesn’t register why right away. “Is this one late to celebration?”
He’s early. Shen Qingqiu should have known that his Luo Binghe is so much better, stronger, faster. He should have known that he’ll be out of hell faster. His barely beating heart fills with misplaced pride for a short moment. His eyes fill with tears.
“Shizun.” Luo Binghe gasps.
Will he kill him now? Will he kill everyone?
Shen Qingqiu doesn’t get to find out. His knees give out and he falls.