Chapter Text
Shen Yuan wakes up freezing cold. He shivers, teeth chattering, curling into himself under what feels like the weight of at least three blankets, and he has just enough presence of mind to be outraged — if he has so many blankets on, how is he still cold?
A freezing hand comes in contact with his forehead, gentle yet painful, and Shen Yuan lets out a disconcerted groan. There's a random, quick flash of heat burning him up from the inside, then he's back to shivering miserably.
Ah, Shen Yuan realizes, a fever.
Without warning, he's pushed into a sitting position, and he whimpers as he feels his insides practically turn to dust. There's a pressure at his lips, and a cool liquid rushes into his mouth — which Shen Yuan immediately tries to spit out, because who the fuck drinks some strange liquid given to them by God knows who?!
Before he can succeed in letting the cool substance drip out past his chattering teeth, someone covers his nose and lips with their hand, trying to force him to swallow. Shen Yuan fights back with all the strength he has — which is, admittedly, very little.
"Drink, didi, drink," comes a slightly annoyed voice from just beside him. "Take the medicine. Can't have you dying just yet."
For some unknown reason, the voice calms him down considerably. Shen Yuan slowly relaxes, letting the liquid — medicine, apparently — drip down into his stomach, soothing his burning throat. Almost immediately, he's laid back down by those same gentle hands, and he notes with relief that he's finally stopped shivering.
"Sleep, sleep," comes that same, comforting voice. Shen Yuan does.
------
Shen Yuan drifts for a while, not really awake, but not asleep enough in order to not feel the painful spikes of his fever. It jolts through him every once in a while, and he either shivers or sweats, depending on the type of pain he feels — but Shen Yuan's been used to fevers for a very long time. He endures it expertly until his weakening consciousness finally lets him drift all the way under.
When he surfaces again, groggy and annoyed, Shen Yuan doesn't open his eyes for a good long while. He can see just a bare amount of light filtering through his lids, and he’s not keen on letting all those migraine-inducing eye stabbers through — Shen Yuan knows very well how light affects him when he’s sick, thinking back on all the pain meds he’s had to take throughout his life; a bare-bones, barely effective defense against the white-hot hospital lights that have haunted him viciously for as long as he can remember.
The sound of a door creaking open jolts Shen Yuan out of his thoughts, and he starts to take stock of his current condition. Based on all the pillows and blankets he’s currently smothered in, he’s in a bed — not a hospital bed, though, as those monstrosities aren’t nearly as comfortable as this one. His skin (as well as the bedclothes immediately next to his person) is thoroughly soaked with a layer of sweat, so his fever must have recently broken, fucking finally.
Someone, whoever it was that has just entered Shen Yuan’s room, walks around to the side of his bed, and stops. Who is it? Er-ge? It can’t be Da-ge, he hasn’t visited in—
“I know you’re awake, A-Yuan,” comes an unfamiliar voice. Um, sorry, who?? In his astonishment, Shen Yuan forgets to keep his eyes closed, and winces when the bright light streaming through the window hits his sensitive pupils. It takes him a few moments of blinking to finally focus on the man standing beside his bed, but when he does—
The man is tall, thin, and arguably the most aesthetically pleasing individual Shen Yuan has ever laid his eyes upon. He clearly knows it, too, based on how the pale green of his robes complements his skin and hair exactly, the silver adornments scattered strategically all over his figure bringing a glittering emphasis onto his face — which is also just objectively perfect, with the meticulously placed features arranged into an elegant aloof expression. As Shen Yuan watches, the man arches one immaculate eyebrow, his red lips twisting slightly into a bit of a scowl. “Well?” he demands aggressively.
Well, what? Shen Yuan thinks back, with sass. Obviously not out loud, as the man looks about as dangerous as he is pretty. Which is, as Shen Yuan has stated, a lot of pretty.
At Shen Yuan’s lack of a response, the man rolls his eyes (a startling yet beautiful green) and flicks open his meticulously painted fan, waving it in front of his face. He’s just opening his mouth to speak once more — probably some cutting remark, to be honest — when the door opens again, and a boy around… sixteen, maybe? Steps inside.
“Father,” he starts, looking at the man, then pauses when he notices that Shen Yuan’s eyes are open. Shen Yuan stares at this kid, too, because he also is very handsome?? He looks just like the guy standing next to Shen Yuan’s bed, but younger and cuter. Okay, where the fuck is Shen Yuan, anyway? This is clearly not his actual fucking house — that place doesn’t have random murderously beautiful men in hanfu walking around, or beds as comfortable as this one. Is he dreaming? “Ah, didi, you’re awake,” the boy says, and Shen Yuan refocuses on him. Honestly, he doesn’t really know what to say — he doesn’t know who anyone here is, and here he is being called ‘didi’ by a guy like three whole years younger than him.
“Who are you?” he blurts, then draws the blankets up to his chin when two pairs of eyes snap to him with equally disbelieving looks. There are a few moments of silence where there’s nothing except for the heat creeping up Shen Yuan’s face, dying it a vibrant sunset red.
Then, the unknown boy opens his mouth, and shrieks for the doctor.
------
The man and the boy introduce themselves as Shen Qingqiu and Shen Jiu respectively (once they’ve calmed down enough to do so), and Shen Yuan is evidently still named Shen Yuan (thank God).
(He chooses not to think about where exactly he’d heard those names before, for fear that he might lose his sanity in his first few hours of being conscious in his new body.)
He thinks he’s in a mixed setting, between ancient China and medieval Europe, if the hanfu the Shens are wearing and the french-style mansion are to be any evidence. There are quite a few servants running around the room — but while Shen Yuan and the two handsome guys are wearing elegant, sweeping robes, the servants are wearing tailcoats and maid dresses. The doctor speaking at Shen Yuan’s bedside is even sporting a monocle and a white lab coat, as well as a rather cool-looking goatee.
“It happens after a very high fever sometimes,” the doctor is saying. Shen Qingqiu and Shen Jiu send him identical glares from where they’re drinking tea at Shen Yuan’s coffee table-thing. “Sometimes the memories return after a bit of a wait, but sometimes they don’t come back at all. The most I can honestly do is prescribe him some medicine, to help him recover his strength.”
Shen Jiu harrumphs while Shen Qingqiu waves a hand in acquiescence, and Shen Yuan forces down the spoonful of very bitter medicine he is handed without (verbal) complaint.
“You may leave, Mu Qingfang,” Shen Qingqiu says when Shen Yuan finishes choking down the viscous fluid, and wow, he’s not going to think about that name, either. The doctor bows and heads toward the door, pausing on his way out.
“It may help to speak to him about some shared memories, Master Shen,” he says. Shen Qingqiu nods, and the doctor closes the door behind him, leaving Shen Yuan alone with his… new family(???)
There are another few moments of silence, broken only by the sounds of the handsome guys sipping their tea. Shen Yuan isn’t sure what to say or do, or even if he’s supposed to say or do anything at all, so he just keeps still and silent until they’re ready to call on him.
After a bit of a wait, Shen Qingqiu finally smacks his empty teacup onto the table in front of him and turns to look angrily at Shen Yuan. Slowly, he gets up, and starts to stalk straight toward him like a predator about to devour its prey — so, instinctually, Shen Yuan pulls his blanket higher and sinks further into the bed. Shockingly, Shen Qingqiu’s steps falter.
“...A-Yuan?” he says eventually, when it becomes clear that Shen Yuan won’t say anything on his own.
“...Yes?”
They stare at each other for a bit, Shen Yuan sinking further and further into his blankets as Shen Qingqiu’s expression gets worse and worse. The terrible silence is finally shattered when Shen Jiu stands up and lays a hand on his father’s arm.
“Let’s leave him to rest a little more,” he says, glancing at Shen Yuan, who sees his expression turn just a little bit — worried? Maybe? “He’s probably having… a difficult time.” Shen Qingqiu furrows his brows angrily at this, shoots Shen Yuan a final burning glare, then storms out of the room in a huff. Shen Jiu follows, but lingers enough to (somehow snobbishly) wish Shen Yuan a good rest before closing the door once again, leaving Shen Yuan truly alone.
------
So, Shen Yuan has… transmigrated. One could say. Based on the names of the people around him, probably into some kind of shitty Proud Immortal Demon Way AU fanfic or something — not that he’s ever read any of those! Not at all! Definitely! Shen Yuan hates PIDW with a burning passion. Never, ever would he read anything more about it than strictly required. Didn’t happen.
Anyway. Transmigrated.
For the past few weeks, Shen Yuan has been getting used to his new life as a spoiled young master of a rich noble family — which, to be honest, hasn’t been that different from his original life. Now that he’s done mourning his own death (choking on a rice ball, what the fuck) and crying over his real family, it’s time to move on to find out exactly what kind of shitty PIDW au he’s in.
To be honest, Shen Yuan isn’t quite sure where to start.
Once he’s well enough to spend some time outside of his bed, he does so, familiarizing himself with the layout of the (enormous) mansion as well as its extensive staff. They seem a bit wary of him at first, but Shen Yuan totally understands — he may have been raised spoiled in his last life, but not as spoiled as this Shen Yuan, and he thinks he would have definitely thrown tantrums every day for his entire life if he had grown up in this environment. Despite this irritating setback, after a few days of acting as kindly as he could get away with, the staff miraculously begins to relax around him, at least enough to start speaking to him without being spoken to.
Two of the younger staff members, a maid named Ning Yingying (oh boy) and a servant named Ming Fan (oh no) have taken to following him around like ducklings, chattering on behind him about whatever’s on their minds. Shen Yuan, usually busy with something or other, tends not to listen, only tuning into the conversation when the topic seems to shift to something interesting — and he can tell when something interesting comes up, from the way their voices lower and their tones go conspiratorial.
Which is how, one day, he hears them mention Luo Binghe.
“He’s acting really nervous these days,” Ning Yingying is saying, not noticing that Shen Yuan has abruptly stopped in the middle of the hall. “I wonder what’s up with him.”
“I ought to teach him a lesson,” Ming Fans sniffs, rubbing a finger under his nose. “He’s acting a little too suspicious.”
“Waah, then I’ll teach you a lesson—”
“Who’s this… Luo Binghe?” Shen Yuan interrupts before Ning Yingying’s punch can land. The two stare at him in shock for a moment, before they remember his supposed memory loss. Ming Fan draws himself up to speak, but before he can utter a sound, Ning Yingying jumps forward.
“A-Luo is really nice! He comes by the kitchens a lot when he’s working, and the food he cooks always looks delicious—”
“That’s not important,” Ming Fan growls, “that’s not what Er-gongzi asked! And don’t lie, that little beast—”
“He’s not a beast!”
“Enough,” Shen Yuan snaps, and they fall silent. He lets a few seconds pass before he asks again: “Who’s Luo Binghe?”
Ning Yingying squirms. “... A-Luo is Er-gongzi’s step-brother,” she says nervously. When she sees his look of wide-eyed disbelief, she continues, “Master Shen married his mother a few years ago, but she died almost right away, so he’s kind of… a servant, now.”
…Oh. Oh no. Shen Yuan thinks he knows exactly where he is.
Alright. Before any judgements are to be made, let it be repeated that Shen Yuan does not, will not, and has never read fanfiction. Especially about Proud Immortal Demon Way. Fanfiction, in his opinion, is a waste of time and effort; why read fanfiction when you have the actual — albeit terrible — book in your metaphorical grasp?
So, Shen Yuan has never read fanfiction.
… But there have been a couple of occasions where he was alone, it was two am, and he was terribly tired, where his hand… slipped.
By accident! He'd never read fanfiction on purpose, he promises!
Anyway, on one of these accidental occasions, he'd stumbled upon a story; the trashiest PIDW Cinderella au known to man. He wouldn’t have even read further into it if the writing style wasn’t scarily like the real novel’s, Shen Yuan swears! He’s not a fanfic reader! He really isn’t!
…Well, in any case, the storyline had been — not interesting! A fanfiction could never — but… morbidly fascinating, in a way? In the story, Luo Binghe’s adoptive mother (not a washerwoman this time, but a relatively low-ranking noble) had married Shen Qingqiu on a contract — but when she died from an illness not even six months later, Luo Binghe had been left alone with the scum villain and his two scum-ling sons, waiting on them hand and foot like a true, and unfavored, servant of the household. After like, five shitty years with them (during which he had met and subsequently wooed the kind maid Ning Yingying), he had been denied entrance to Princess Liu Mingyan’s ball by his stupid-ass step-family.
But! Then, through the force of the protagonist halo, the fairy godmother Sha Hualing had shown up and said that she’d give him cool clothes if he papapa’d with her. Then, with his new cool clothes, Luo Binghe went to the ball and met a bunch of new ladies to papapa with — five! In the course of one evening, he papapa’d five entire ladies — and caught the attention of the princess, who he also then papapa’d with, and there was just… generally a lot of papapa. Shen Yuan had skipped most of it, he swears, but actually this time! And at the end of the story, Bing-ge stayed and married Liu Mingyan (and all the other girls he papapa’d with) and somehow became the king. And the Shen family all became human sticks. The end.
How is Shen Yuan supposed to live with this! He’s gonna die! What kind of shitty transmigration is this, he wants a refund!
“...Er-gongzi?” comes Ning Yingying’s concerned voice, and she leans into his line of sight. Oh, he’s been staring at the wall for who knows how long, thinking about that stupid— this is why he doesn’t read fanfiction, okay?
“Apologies,” he says, and the two kids both twitch in surprise at hearing that word come out of his mouth. He’ll have to work on that, if he wants to stay alive — it just wouldn’t do to get killed off by a vindictive servant, or even some random third party paying staff off to poison him. “About Luo Binghe, how old is he?”
“Ah, he’s fourteen, a year younger than Er-gongzi,” Ning Yingying supplies helpfully. Shen Yuan thinks about it for a moment — fourteen isn’t too bad! Luo Binghe had been thirteen when his mother died, and the bullying by the Shen family had been pretty mild up until he’d hit puberty at fifteen and started looking really hot instead of just cute!
Shen Yuan nods in thanks and turns around, gracefully as fuck. If he has something to be thankful for from this new body, it’s definitely that it doesn’t bumble about like a rhinoceros — not that his old body did that! Absolutely not!