Work Text:
Zhangmen-shixiong is visiting again. Shen Qingqiu takes a moment to make sure that not a hair or fold of cloth is out of place, before he hurries to the door and opens it calmly.
“Oh, you again,” he says, feigning nonchalance as he idly waves his fan. He has very many of them. Maybe the old him liked to match them to different outfits. He’s found one in particular he likes - a black shiny spine with dove gray silk, embroidered with white thread in the shape of stylized clouds - and uses it exclusively. “What is it now?”
“Hello, Qingqiu-shidi,” Zhangmen-shixiong says warmly. He is always warm with Shen Qingqiu, polite and attentive. He’s the same with other people but less so, he thinks. Not quite as considerate and tender, not quite as interested and obliging. Shen Qingqiu has carefully considered the matter, and decided that the special attention pleases him. He is the sort of person who likes to be treated better than others, apparently. Well, who doesn’t? “Apologies, but this shixiong was hoping to have a little bit of Shidi’s time and attention, enough at least for a cup of tea?”
Shen Qingqiu pretends to mull the matter over; he doesn’t want to seem too eager.
“Fine,” he loftily decides, and makes room for Zhangmen-shixiong to enter. “If Shixiong insists.”
Zhangmen-shixiong looks at him for a moment - and then he smiles and thanks him, entering Shen Qingqiu’s home. He starts making small talk even as Shen Qingqiu is boiling water for the tea, friendly and pleasant.
“I ran into Luo-shizhi on my way here,” he says, his voice turning tentative and cautious, as if treading on uncertain ground. “His situation seems to have improved very much.”
“Has it?” Shen Qingqiu asks, genuinely uncaring.
Luo Binghe is a disciple of his who was in a very poor state once Shen Qingqiu awoke from his qi deviation. Beaten and battered and apparently being held prisoner in a woodshed, he’d spent several days keeping a close eye on the boy, wondering what it was about him that had driven the old him to such hateful violence. But he’s seen nothing; he seems to be an entirely average, foolish little boy. Hardworking and eager to please, a little pathetic and irritating at the worst. Baffled, he’s left the boy alone since then. Apparently, in the absence of his harsh attentions, he has managed to pull himself up above a little higher than the very bottom of Qing Jing’s hierarchy. Well, good for him. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t particularly care one way or another, but he wishes the boy no ill will. He’s a respectful disciple, at least.
“Mn,” Zhangmen-shixiong says, and he sounds a little more at ease now that he’s seen that Shen Qingqiu won’t fly into a rage at the mere mention of the boy’s name. Had he ever done that? “Clean and healthy, and laughing with some fellow disciples. I’m… very glad that your feelings for him seem to have softened.”
He does sound glad. Happy, but not that polite happy he performs so often. Something a little gentler and warmer than that; when Shen Qingqiu turns to look at him from where he’s brewing tea, he can see Zhangmen-shixiong’s tender smile, small like he barely dares to be so content.
He looks even more handsome like this.
Shen Qingqiu fusses with the tea for a while until he’s certain that his face isn’t an odd color, and because he doesn’t know how to respond to the comment. He doesn’t know why his old self despised the boy so much, so how can he explain his change of feelings?
“How is your health?” Zhangmen-shixiong asks as Shen Qingqiu brings over and pours the tea for both of them. “Is your head still bothering you?”
“It’s fine,” he dismisses, waving off his fussy concern. Waking up surrounded by strangers, not knowing where he was or who he was, he had defaulted to wary silence as much as he could to avoid giving himself away, instead silently listening to others to gather as much information as possible. This had greatly concerned Zhangmen-shixiong and Mu-shidi, and he’d hidden behind vague allusions to headaches as an explanation. “My qi deviation was weeks ago, I’m all better now.”
This is insufficient to make Zhangmen-shixiong stop fussing, which is his specialty. He makes concerned noises, asking if Shen Qingqiu needs more painkillers from Qian Cao Peak, if he shouldn’t maybe go visit Mu-shidi for an extra medical examination to be sure, and that if he needs to take a break from his Peak Lord duties then it would be no trouble at all. Exasperated, Shen Qingqiu endures and dismisses it all. The way Zhangmen-shixiong fusses, you would think he was a fragile little bird. Is he supposed to be sickly? He doesn’t feel sickly.
“Stop being such a busybody,” he finally snaps. “If I say I’m fine, then I’m fine.”
“I’m sorry, Qingqiu-shidi,” he says at once, and oh, great. Now Shen Qingqiu has activated another one of his little apology storms, sorrys tumbling from his lips like water from the heavens. He always does this if Shen Qingqiu snarls at him even a little bit, like he thinks he’s made him furious or something. How can a sect leader be so pathetic and spineless? It makes him feel exasperated and… a little bit protective. He’ll have to make sure to get a good grasp of his duties soon, so that he can go back to being Zhangmen-shixiong’s second-in-command; clearly, he’s desperately needed. He can’t let anyone else walk all over his shixiong like this, can he?
The apologies finally dry up, and Shen Qingqiu manages to yank and veer their conversation over to safer ground, which Zhangmen-shixiong obediently cooperates with. They exchange pleasant, irrelevant talk, Zhangmen-shixiong happily telling him unimportant little anecdotes about his disciples or their martial siblings, and Shen Qingqiu listening with minimal interjections so he can instead focus on taking in names and information so he can pretend to have known it all along later.
It is a pity that he still hasn’t been able to learn Zhangmen-shixiong’s name. No one calls him by it, always using lofty titles instead, and he can’t very well ask, can he? It would be too suspicious.
He’ll learn it soon enough. He’s determined.
The visit winds itself up, and they make their slow and reluctant parting, neither particularly eager to say goodbye, although Shen Qingqiu pretends otherwise. Oddly, if he’s too friendly then Zhangmen-shixiong gets very concerned, as if he’s had an alarming coughing fit.
“You should stop wasting your time like this,” he says coolly, unfolding his favorite fan. “Don’t you have important matters to attend to?”
“Visiting my shidi is an important matter,” Zhangmen-shixiong says kindly, then his eyes catch on the fan. It seems to make him a little happier to see, which happens every time it catches his attention. This may or may not have something to do with why it’s Shen Qingqiu’s favorite. He likes how easy it is to make Zhangmen-shixiong happy.
He also likes his shoulders. They’re very… broad, and sturdy looking. He can’t get a good sense of his arms underneath those broad sleeves, but he’s sure they’re very handsome as well. Once he visited Qiong Ding Peak and got a glimpse of Zhangmen-shixiong training in a more practical outfit, and his ass--
--in short, there are very many things about Zhangmen-shixiong that he likes. Why didn’t his old self do anything about it? An unforgivable oversight, clearly. He plans to amend it.
“That fan… does Qingqiu-shidi like it?”
“It’s passable,” Shen Qingqiu says. Obviously he likes it. Why else would he use it every day?
Zhangmen-shixiong’s smile broadens, as if this is very high praise.
“Then, may this one have permission to get Qingqiu-shidi another present?”
Luckily, he already has his fan out, so it’s easy to cover his face as he processes the meaning of that question. The fan, and its clear markers of expensive quality and beauty, suddenly become even more pleasing to him. Smugly, he’s certain that Zhangmen-shixiong has never bought that rude brat Liu-shidi anything half as nice as this.
“Fine,” he says haughtily. “If it pleases Zhangmen-shixiong so much, he can buy as many presents as he likes. This one can’t guarantee that he’ll find them all to be pleasing.”
Zhangmen-shixiong beams. Truly, he is encouraged by the slightest crumb of approval. What a ridiculous man.
“Then this shixiong will do his best and only purchase the finest gifts he can find.”
“Please yourself,” Shen Qingqiu says, and closes the door on him.
After a moment, he sneaks over to watch him leave through one of the windows until he disappears out of sight behind the bamboo.
