Chapter Text
Shen Qingqiu had initially planned to keep himself busy with a number of things today. To think that a whole year since the Immortal Alliance Conference had flown by just like that, which meant he only had four more before Luo Binghe returned to get revenge on his scum shizun! Four years was still a lot, relatively speaking, but not when the mushroom bodies he and Shang Qinghua were working on kept rotting and failing. It felt like time was slipping through his fingers, and he spent most days fruitlessly wracking his brain for another escape route.
Today, especially, he had intended to spend on such important, practical matters. He had a few leads he was intending to track down, and was going to spend the next few days doing a bit of traveling and sight-seeing while he followed up on them.
However, Shen Qingqiu had woken up overcome with a strange sort of malaise. He felt weary and lead-boned, wanting nothing more than to roll back over and return to peaceful void of sleep. He knew, instantly, that he wouldn’t be getting any of those plans done today, and groaned.
He soon found himself outside, kneeling in front of Zheng Yang’s sword mound. The path he must have taken from the bed to here was a blur. Ugh, the purpose of making plans for today was so that he wouldn’t come here. The last thing he needed to do on a day like this was sit around dreading Luo Binghe’s inevitable return! He should be out there doing something about it rather than worrying himself to bits about all the torture he would endure in a few years’ time! Honestly, this was just ridiculous; he should get up right now and prepare to chase down some leads.
Instead, Shen Qingqiu leaned forward and cleared away a small weed that had grown, throat inexplicably tight.
A quiet sigh caught his attention. Shen Qingqiu blinked and registered that the sun had nearly reached its zenith above him. How strange; he couldn’t have been out here for more than a few minutes.
“Shizun, this disciple has collected the poetry assignments for you to grade,” a gentle voice said, and Shen Qingqiu looked up to find Ning Yingying standing above him with a tight, sad smile on her face. Ah, it must be a difficult day for her, what with her belief that Luo Binghe had died at the conference. And yet here she was, putting on a brave face and doing her duties! Truly, one mustn’t underestimate the strength a young woman is capable of possessing even in the face of lost love.
“Thank you, Yingying, you can leave them on my desk.”
Ning Yingying didn’t move, though. She hovered, shuffling from foot to foot as she seemed to dither over something. It brought a spark of amusement into the numbness in Shen Qingqiu’s chest, so he allowed it patiently.
“Would Shizun…” she hesitated. “Would Shizun like assistance with…dressing?”
Shen Qingqiu looked at her in confusion, then down at himself. Mortification immediately flooded through him, and he clutched the lapels of his inner robe closed. Sure, he was a modern man who used to dress in much less than this, but he was practically in his underwear by this setting’s standards! And his hair was still loose, too—how the hell did it slip his mind to at least get dressed before leaving the house?!
“This master apologizes for appearing before you in such a state,” he said weakly, doing his level-best not to spit blood. Of all people to catch him like this, it had to be Ning Yingying? This had better not come up in the allegations against him during his trial later on!
“It’s alright, Shizun. Yingying understands.” Ning Yingying’s smile looked even more strained now. Shen Qingqiu couldn’t blame her—no one wanted to accidentally encounter an old man in his unmentionables like this.
He pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the soreness in his legs, and headed back to the Bamboo House with as much dignity as he could muster. Which wasn’t much, especially since Ning Yingying trailed along behind him.
“Has Shizun eaten yet today?” Ning Yingying asked once they were inside.
“This master is practicing inedia,” he returned automatically, heading towards his room.
“But—” she started, then stopped. Shen Qingqiu turned to her with an arched brow, and she ducked her head. “Could Shizun at least permit this disciple to make tea?”
Shen Qingqiu’s heart softened. Ning Yingying was probably hoping for some task to do in order to distract from her grief. Well, if she wanted to make tea for her old master, Shen Qingqiu wouldn’t stop her—even if he didn’t understand it. When he nodded, Ning Yingying lit up like he’d given her a gift, and Shen Qingqiu quickly excused himself to get dressed. He kept it relatively simple, not having the energy for much else, and returned just as Ning Yingying was pouring the tea. A bit of pity pricked his heart when he caught how her hands trembled just a bit.
“Thank you, Yingying,” he said as he took the cup. The tea inside was a pale, soft pink and smelled of flowers when he lifted it to his nose. He took a sip. “This isn’t one of my usual blends.”
“Does Shizun dislike it?” Ning Yingying asked, fidgeting where she sat across from him.
“This master never said that.” He took another sip. “It’s sweet. Where did Yingying find this?”
Ning Yingying brightened. “It’s a special blend meant to ease ones worries. Yingying purchased it for Shizun on her most recent mission.”
Shen Qingqiu couldn’t help but chuckle fondly. At least he had done some small bit of good, if this world’s Ning Yingying was so thoughtful and sensible. Not that Luo Binghe would ever realize or appreciate just how much Shen Qingqiu had helped raise this future wife’s IQ and EQ points! If only he could use that to bargain for a bit less torture…
“Yingying can feel free to have some as well, then, if she wishes,” Shen Qingqiu said mildly. She must have plenty of her own worries, even if she wasn’t the one who needed to fear being human-sticked!
“Oh! Thanking Shizun, but this disciple couldn’t possibly,” she said. “It’s a gift for Shizun!”
Shen Qingqiu hummed and accepted this. The tea really was quite good, so he had no qualms about hogging the whole pot to himself if Ning Yingying really didn’t want any. She stayed to chat with him, discussing light-hearted topics that came as a welcome distraction. Every time she poured him another cup, her gaze flicked nervously between the tea and his face. Didn’t he already say he liked the tea? There was no need to be nervous about your gift, Yingying!
Eventually, the pot was drained. Ning Yingying leaned forward a bit, studying Shen Qingqiu intently, and he resisted the urge to cover his face with his fan. What was that intense look for, ah? He cleared his throat. “Does Yingying not have any duties to attend to?”
Ning Yingying’s brows furrowed as she studied him for another moment, and then her shoulders slumped with a despondent sigh. “Yes, Shizun. This disciple will clean up and see herself out.”
Shen Qingqiu couldn’t help but feel guilty; clearly, Ning Yingying was having a difficult time today. But he also knew that in the future, she would probably be glad that she had ended up not spending too much time with the scum who had pushed her beloved husband into the Endless Abyss! You may not realize this, Yingying, but this master is actually doing you a favor!
Imagine if she’d stayed and the conversation steered itself to her woes! If she started talking about how much she missed her A-Luo, how she wished she could see his face one more time, or hear his voice, or eat his cooking…
In any case, Ning Yingying would be seeing Luo Binghe again soon enough, so there was no need for her to cry on Shen Qingqiu’s shoulder about it! Maybe she wouldn’t be feeling quite as down if she had just drank some of the tea when he offered it!
If Shen Qingqiu was being honest, the tea’s calming properties were working better than anticipated to ease some of the dread regarding his fate. Similarly, that sense of malaise was no longer quite as oppressive. It felt almost like there was a pale pink fog cushioning the weight of it all.
Even so, before he knew it, Shen Qingqiu was back at the sword mound. He ended up spending the entire rest of the day there.
Shen Qingqiu woke up later than usual. This was immediately obvious, because what woke him was a late-morning sunbeam shining rudely on his eyes, and he instinctively grumbled and threw an arm over them to block the offending light. And really, he knew he wasn’t always the best about waking up early, but how did he sleep in this late? Shouldn’t Luo Binghe have prodded at him and coaxed him with breakfast by now?
Actually, come to think of it, there was no scent of breakfast wafting through the house, either. Frowning, Shen Qingqiu got up and threw on a robe to investigate. He found no sign of Luo Binghe anywhere—in fact, there was something slightly off about the Bamboo House itself that Shen Qingqiu couldn’t quite place.
Luo Binghe wasn’t out on a mission, was he? He couldn’t be, not with the Immortal Alliance Conference in just a few days. Luo Binghe was too excited to risk missing it, too eager for a chance to prove himself among his peers. As if he had anything to prove!
Shen Qingqiu got dressed and ventured out in search of Luo Binghe. Honestly, that child could have at least left a note instead of making his master scour the peak just to be sure he was alright. Shen Qingqiu was barely halfway down the path, though, when he came across Ning Yingying coming up the other direction, a tray in her hands. Perhaps Luo Binghe was on a mission, if she was tasked with bringing him breakfast.
“Shizun!” She gave him a wide-eyed look, then practically glowed as she smiled. “Shizun is looking well today!”
Shen Qingqiu glanced down at himself; these robes weren’t anything special. Brushing off the odd comment, he tucked his hands in his sleeves with a polite smile. “Has Yingying seen Luo Binghe today?”
Ning Yingying’s smile froze on her face.
“Sh-Shizun…?” The dishes on the tray made light clattering noises as it shook in her hands. “What do you mean? A-Luo isn’t…”
“He isn’t in the house, no,” Shen Qingqiu said, frowning a bit at how pale she suddenly looked. He hoped Ning Yingying wasn’t already overworking herself so early in the day. “He hasn’t taken on a last-minute mission, has he? Surely not with the conference so soon.”
The tray crashed to the ground, dishes shattering with the impact.
“There does seem to be a fluctuation in your qi that’s unrelated to Without a Cure,” Mu Qingfang mused—mostly to himself—as he checked Shen Qingqiu’s pulse. Ning Yingying had all but dragged him to Qian Cao Peak in a tizzy, and now she waited outside while Mu Qingfang assessed him. After a few more moments, Mu Qingfang sighed and withdrew his hand. “It’s difficult to ascertain what could cause such a gap in memories without more information, though. Perhaps Shixiong would be willing to start with what he does remember?”
Shen Qingqiu sighed. He remembered everything, of course! Except for the Immortal Alliance Conference, apparently. And…quite a bit of the year after the conference. Now that he was aware of the situation and could focus on it, there were bits and pieces of the past year that he could remember, but most of it was lost in a pale pink fog.
But everything before the conference, he remembered perfectly well! He knew that he was the lord of Qing Jing Peak—though he couldn’t quite recall his discipleship or being appointed peak lord. He knew each and every one of the disciples he was master to, even if he struggled to remember small details like actually selecting them and bringing them onto the peak. He knew that he used to be a rather strict and harsh master—especially so with Luo Binghe—before he eased up and gradually became a bit more like the teacher he was nowadays. Even though he…couldn’t really remember…why he was so harsh…
Okay, so maybe Shen Qingqiu didn’t remember as much as he thought he did. When he hesitantly explained this to Mu Qingfang, though, the latter simply shook his head and said that those gaps in his memory were due to that qi deviation he suffered from years ago, and were unrelated to this new issue with his memory.
Honestly, what were the odds that an immortal master like him would suffer from two instances of memory loss?
There was no indication of a second qi deviation, though, according to Mu Qingfang, which Shen Qingqiu counted as a good thing. Even if he couldn’t remember why, he knew his foundation was damaged and that it had taken dedicated effort on his part to repair it. And then he’d gone and damaged it again by getting poisoned with Without a Cure! Of course, it wasn’t as though Shen Qingqiu could have stood aside and allowed Luo Binghe to get hurt; a bit of poison was nothing if it meant protecting one of his disciples.
…A disciple who was now dead anyway, it seemed.
“Luo Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu said. “Is he really…?”
Mu Qingfang’s expression turned pitying. “Apologies, Shixiong, that you have to re-learn such a thing like this, and restart the healing process.”
Shen Qingqiu’s gaze fell to his lap. “What happened?”
“No one knows for sure, but with the attack on the conference going the way it did…” Mu Qingfang hesitated. “Shen-shixiong was the first one on the scene. You found the shattered remains of your disciple’s sword, and declared him dead yourself.”
“Just his sword?” Shen Qingqiu asked. “No body?”
Mu Qingfang gave him a knowing look. “No, but this shidi would remind you that multiple Abyssal rifts opened during that catastrophic event. It’s far from outside the realm of possibility that Luo Binghe’s body ended up in one of them. And besides, the shattering of his sword is enough proof in itself.”
Right. Spiritual swords were named as such for a reason—they bonded and tied themselves to their owners’ spirits. Shattered sword, shattered spirit. It was a simple enough notion. But still, Shen Qingqiu couldn’t shake the feeling that Luo Binghe wasn’t really dead. Luo Binghe had always been a particular talent, so resilient even with all he went through, so resourceful…
Ah, but saying such a thing would just make it seem like he wasn’t in his right mind. It was probably just confusion, in any case—after all, just this morning, Shen Qingqiu had thought they were mere days away from the conference. Once the knowledge settled in his mind, the strange feeling that Luo Binghe was alive and would return would hopefully dissipate.
Otherwise, Shen Qingqiu didn’t know what he would do.
After a bit of discussion, Mu Qingfang seemed to rule out a few more possibilities, and left to go prepare a prescription meant to fortify and invigorate the mind, with the hopes of stimulating Shen Qingqiu’s memory. It probably wouldn’t work, but sometimes the simplest solution was indeed the correct one, so it was worth a try.
A light breeze flowed in through the windows of the Qian Cao Peak Lord’s office while Shen Qingqiu waited. It was a nice day, all things considered. Shen Qingqiu wished it wasn’t the day that he had to re-learn how his most prized disciple met his doom.
One of Mu Qingfang’s disciples returned with the herbal mixture and instructions for use rather than the peak lord himself. Shen Qingqiu took it with a mild thanks and tucked it away, then headed out. As he navigated through Qian Cao Peak, he caught the sound of a familiar voice—interspersed with tears and sniffles as it was—just around a corner, and he paused to listen.
“I d-didn’t mean to—” Ning Yingying sobbed. “Shizun just seemed so—he was so—”
A sigh. “Ning-shizhi didn’t know.” That was Mu Qingfang’s weary voice.
“Is—Is Shishu going to tell Shizun?”
“Tell Shizun what?” Shen Qingqiu asked, stepping around the corner with an arched brow. Ning Yingying stiffened, red-rimmed eyes wide as she stared at him in panic, and then—
She flung herself at his feet.
“Shizun, this disciple was wrong!” Ning Yingying all but wailed.
Shen Qingqiu took an automatic step back, fan immediately deployed to cover the lower half of his face. Ah, he really wasn’t good with the sight of a woman crying. Not to mention that this area was far from private, and multiple passers-by stopped to gawk at the spectacle of a Qing Jing disciple kowtowing at her master’s feet and sobbing. “Yingying, what—”
“Yingying just—just wanted Shizun to feel better! Shizun was always so sad, and I-I just couldn’t stand it!”
Having no idea what she was getting at, Shen Qingqiu looked helplessly to Mu Qingfang, who sighed. “It seems that Shixiong’s affliction was caused by his own, well-meaning disciple. Does Shixiong perhaps remember drinking a special tea yesterday?”
“Mu-shidi already knows I don’t,” Shen Qingqiu deadpanned. Then, the implications clicked in his mind, and he balked. “Yingying, you gave this master a tea of dubious origins?”
“This disciple was wrong!” Ning Yingying repeated, sobbing. “The—The woman only said it would ease Shizun’s worries! I didn’t think it would—it—”
“Ning Yingying.” Shen Qingqiu’s tone made her flinch. “How many lectures has this master given on the importance of handling unknown substances with care? Did such lessons go in one ear and out the other?”
“Ning-shizhi,” Mu Qingfang interrupted Ning Yingying’s following wet apology. “The woman who sold you the tea, did she happen to call it by any particular name?”
Instead of answering right away, Ning Yingying stayed bowed to the ground as she gathered herself. “Um,” she eventually said, carefully glancing up at Shen Qingqiu. When he didn’t tell her to stay bowed, she sat up fully and wiped at her face. “I think she called it…Worry…Worry-Me-Not tea?”
Shen Qingqiu’s eyebrows quirked in interest. “Does Mu-shidi know of it?”
Mu Qingfang frowned in thought for a bit, then sighed and shook his head. “Not off the top of my head, no. But it’s at least something to go off of.” He reached into his sleeve and pulled out a small notebook and a charcoal stick. “Shizhi, is there anything else you can tell me about this tea, or the woman who sold it to you? Any details at all would help.”
Shen Qingqiu urged Ning Yingying to stand before responding, and she dutifully listed out everything she could remember about the tea, the woman, and the location where she’d purchased it. The level of detail she had committed to memory was rather impressive—as expected of a disciple of Qing Jing Peak! Now, if only she would commit Shen Qingqiu’s lessons to memory.
Mu Qingfang nodded as he wrote the last of it down, then paused to look over his notes. “Based on these details, I have a few ideas. Shixiong, please trust this shidi to do everything he can to seek out this plant. However…” He hesitated, taking the time to tuck away his notebook and charcoal stick before continuing. “Shidi must also ask Shixiong to temper his expectations. Memory is a tricky thing, and in my experience, these matters often have no easy solution. It’s possible that since this predicament was brought about by a flower rather than, say, a qi deviation, then there may be a cure. However, the opposite is unfortunately just as likely.”
The qi deviation mention was a very pointed hint that Shen Qingqiu didn’t need, but he understood all the same. After all, it had been quite a few years since that memory loss, and he hadn’t regained a single one of them. He dipped his head. “Shixiong understands, and thanks Mu-shidi for his efforts regardless of the outcome.”
After exchanging a few words of farewell, Mu Qingfang took off to begin his research, and Shen Qingqiu turned to Ning Yingying, who miserably bowed her head.
Ahh, even though she really had been wrong to do such a thing, Shen Qingqiu just couldn’t stand to see any of his disciples with such an expression on their face! He sighed heavily and patted her head. “This master understands that Yingying only meant well, and that the consequences of her actions have instilled the lesson in a way that my lectures apparently failed to do. However,” he arched a brow when she looked up at him hopefully, “don’t think this means you’ve escaped punishment.”
Her shoulders slumped. “Yes, Shizun. Yingying will accept any punishment Shizun deems appropriate.”
With that, they made their way back to Qing Jing Peak. The slight ache in Shen Qingqiu’s chest only increased more and more as they drew closer, knowing now that Luo Binghe would not be there. That he would not be returning, that he would never smile like the sun or trail after his master with stars in his eyes. That Shen Qingqiu would never again be treated to his cooking, or aid with the task of taming his curls.
Swallowing down the tightness in his throat, Shen Qingqiu turned his mind to other matters. Namely, Ning Yingying’s punishment. Like many of his disciples, she had run so many laps around the peak over the years that it was practically a non-starter as far as punishments went. Instead, after some thinking, he decided he needed to task her with something that would be especially grueling for such an energetic young woman.
Library organization should do the trick.