Chapter Text
Shen Yuan doesn’t think anything of the tea, at first.
He has other things on his mind! Being an (actually the only, until the Head Disciple position is filled) assistant to Shen Qingqiu, Peak Lord of Qing Jing, is a full time job, after all. One that he put a lot of work into getting, once he transmigrated into some no name NPC of the same generation. With Luo Binghe years away from joining the sect and no opportunity to get close to anyone else, of course Shen Yuan figured his best bet for surviving and improving Proud Immortal Demon Way was giving the protagonist someone to fondly remember! Someone who could look out for him, give him some small comforts during the years of abuse and drudgery!
The only way to do that, of course, was to find some way to power on Qing Jing. There wasn’t a whole lot of it to go around, nor of his canon knowledge of the time before the Qing generation ascended, but he knew Shen Qingqiu was the guy in charge. Surely if he said the right things, he could become a teacher in his own right, and be spirited away right alongside Ning Yingying once the time came.
Unfortunately that involved getting close to the prickly, defensive, eternally grouchy Head Disciple Shen Qingqiu. Which… well, it turned out he wasn’t that bad a guy! All things considered. Shen Yuan had certainly met worse. On Qing Jing Peak, and in his former life! A guy who bites first because he’s constantly getting bitten is easier to sympathize with than the Scum Villain he would one day bloom into. Who knew?
So the plan changed. Instead of just demonstrating competence and intelligence, Shen Yuan tried to help him out. Smooth things over, warn Shen Qingqiu of pit traps senior disciples had laid out for him. He wasn’t trusted, of course, but his advice was heard and heeded enough times that Shen Yuan didn’t take offense. He figured he had plenty of years before Shen Qingqiu was due to officially ascend anyway. The guy was barely 25, and still struggling with his golden core formation, after all!
Then Tianlang-Jun happened. And the Sect Leader, and the Qing Jing Peak Lord, and a bunch of others died during the battle. All at once, the previous generation was a shell of its former self. Yue Qingyuan stood triumphant, the cultivator who defeated the Demonic Emperor basically on his own! There was no question that he would ascend to fill the empty Sect Leader spot, and Cang Qiong Mountain Sect tradition demanded every Head Disciple would follow him upwards. The Qing Generation ascended within the month.
Things got busy after that. And stayed busy. Turns out, assistants to new Peak Lords have a shitton to do! Especially since Shen Yuan had taken it upon himself to not just follow orders, but actually give his opinions and advice. More work for him, but surely it would be for the best when, at last, the protagonist finally arrived!
So, the tea.
Shen Qingqiu cycles through teas. It’s a habit of his, because he was supposed to be refined and educated but clearly thought most teas tasted pretty much the same. That’s why Shen Yuan doesn't think anything of it when Shen Qingqiu pours them both cups of a new blend, something sweet smelling, with breakfast. Why would he? It’s just tea.
The first sip… even that doesn’t feel especially noteworthy. It’s sweet, yes. Shen Yuan even remarks that it's a good blend, but that’s it. The taste of peaches and honey settles on his tongue, soothing and yet also decadent, as he eats the rest of his breakfast and runs through Shen Qingqiu’s itinerary for the day.
And if Shen Qingqiu watches him drink that cup down to the very last drop, Shen Yuan doesn’t notice it.
If Shen Yuan notices that Shen Qingqiu doesn’t touch his own tea that day, then no remarks are made about it. This could be a sign of shrewdness, but Shen Qingqiu knows that it is not. It is a sign of naivety, foolish, unthinking trust. An idiotic, shameful flaw in a man.
But only to be expected in a woman.
“—special requests to accept more disciples,” Shen Yuan says. “We should look over—”
“No,” Shen Qingqiu says.
“We do actually have an insufficient number of disciples,” Shen Yuan says, pushing back. “Shizun selected very few new disciples the last five years, and with our, um, our losses at the battle against Tianlang-Jun—”
“We did not lose disciples during the battle against the Demon Emperor, we lost educated and experienced masters,” Shen Qingqiu disagrees firmly. “Taking on a dozen more snot nosed brats now will not amend that loss for decades, if not centuries. We have enough chaos to control as it is without adding more children to the peak.”
“We have plenty of hallmasters to shove them off on,” Shen Yuan dares to argue back. “If anything, giving them some disciples to mind might distract them from constantly finding problems to complain about! Give them something real to deal with.”
A tempting argument, but a disingenuous one calculated to appeal to the listener. More disciples will mean more mess.
“Qing Jing Peak is not An Ding,” he says derisively. “We are meant to be an exclusive, serene peak for those who wish to learn the Four Arts.”
“This serene peak is more like a ghost town than anything else,” Shen Yuan mutters, knowing perfectly well that Shen Qingqiu can hear the words as if they had been spoken directly into his ear.
The words are almost a little sulky, like a wife sighing about how dearly she’d appreciate having some little ones to dote on, or perhaps even just a puppy. Against his will, Shen Qingqiu feels something cold and unyielding inside of him… softening.
It’s nearly frightening, how easily it happens.
“We may accept three new disciples,” he grudgingly allows. “But they must be well behaved.”
“Three new disciples, got it!” Shen Yuan says, happy and unsurprised to be indulged like this yet again. And why wouldn’t that be the case? How many times has Shen Qingqiu faltered and caved in the face of wheedling and insistent, stubborn arguments?
Uneasiness stirs inside of him for half a moment, thinking of how much of a hold he’s allowed his assistant to get over him, how invested he’s become - before he reminds himself: It is fine. Shen Yuan has already drunk of the Tender Flowering Peach Blossom blend. It will only be the first cup of many, and after that all will be as it should be. The thought is immediately soothing, reassuring.
“And then there’s a meeting with Sect Leader—”
“You take that one.”
“You know I can’t? I’m literally just an assistant? You can shove as many meetings off on me as you want, but you’ve still got to do some yourself!”
Shen Qingqiu makes a skeptical noise, but doesn’t persist in the argument as Shen Yuan continues down the list, outlining his day for him. Meetings, lessons, evaluations to determine requests to be made, messages from other peaks to be looked over and dealt with, messages from people outside the sect to look over and be dealt with - the amount of strangers who have eagerly flocked to the abruptly ascended new generation of peak lords in order to quickly ingratiate themselves has been as overwhelming as it has been repulsive. Shen Qingqiu wishes to burn every last letter unread. Shen Yuan will not allow him to do so.
Will not allow him. As if Shen Yuan has power over him, can sway his decisions and control his behavior. The thought had first infuriated and then terrified him, once it had occurred. The degree of power it implies that Shen Qingqiu has thoughtlessly surrendered to another person (how thoughtlessly he had let himself slip into trusting someone again, into trusting another supposedly kind, helpful, smiling man—) makes him want to climb out of his skin. The only way to deal with it is—
“It’s going to be a busy day,” Shen Yuan sighs at the end of the list, still distractedly looking over the itinerary. “Again.”
“We will meet for tea again in the evening,” Shen Qingqiu says, declaring it. Making it an inarguable statement.
“Hm?” Shen Yuan says, not looking up. “Yeah, yeah, sure.”
And she gives him a distracted smile, before going back to her papers.
Satisfied, Shen Qingqiu finishes his meal, feeling more content and at peace than he has in a long time. He has always been most comfortable in the presence of women, after all.
It’s days like today that Shen Yuan especially appreciates being transmigrated into a proper cultivator. Running around back and forth like this, endless errands and messages and emergencies, would have drained his old self into a bloodless husk. Now, he can take them all, and ask for more! Keep it coming! He dares you!!
Actually, no, don’t do that. Shen Yuan and Shen Qingqiu have enough on their plate as it is. He’s just feeling kind of peppy today, in a way the crushing schedule of a Peak Lord’s assistant doesn’t really warrant. But you know what, who goes around looking gift horses in the mouth like that? Besides Shen Qingqiu. Some rich asshole tried to give him a whole ass horse as an ascension gift, and Shen Qingqiu almost ordered the thing carved up and tossed in a fire.
“He’s got a clean bill of health, by the way,” Shen Yuan says loudly, while relaying the status of all Shen Qingqiu’s ascension ‘gifts’. “No trackers, curses, artifacts, or demonic signatures, anywhere!”
Shen Qingqiu doesn’t even respond, but Shen Yuan isn’t surprised. They’re walking to the meeting with Yue Qingyuan, after all. He always gets extra… like himself right before those, and then stays extra like himself for hours or even days afterwards. Ah, can’t he just swallow his jealousy for a single day? It’d make Shen Yuan’s life a lot easier if he did!
“I’m going to name him,” Shen Yuan declares. Getting his attention by being kind of a little shit has worked before!
“Of course you are,” Shen Qingqiu replies. Sure, he says it like ‘of course you would do something so foolish’, but hey, he got his attention. Shen Yuan is going to call that a win.
“A pure white stallion like that? It would be a crime not to.” Not to mention, the only thing more likely to die than a named horse is an unnamed one. Shen Yuan knows his tropes! He has to give the guy a fighting chance at least.
“So long as it is anything but a variation on Snow.”
“Ah-”
“Dove is also unacceptable.”
Shen Yuan, who in his former life either named game characters after himself or used the default, finds himself stumped. Shen Qingqiu smiles his little villainous victory smile, and they continue onwards towards the meeting. The walk up the tallest Peaks of Qiong Ding normally leaves him panting and sweating, even as a cultivator, but all the back and forth trips must finally be paying off, because he’s cool as his former internet handle’s namesake when they arrive.
Shen Qingqiu is glaring again. Shen Yuan almost wishes he’d offered to take the stupid meeting himself, but it's too late now. Shen Qingqiu goes in. Shen Yuan does not follow him. As the door closes, Yue Qingyuan makes the briefest moment of eye contact with him. An apology, an ‘I hope not to keep you waiting too long.’
With nowhere else to go, Shen Yuan waits outside the door. He wastes time flipping through reports and the itinerary for the rest of the day. The Sect Leader’s office is, of course, eavesdropping proof. They could be murdering each other in there, and Shen Yuan would never know. Not that they would, with the plot still at least 15 years out. Sure, Shen Yuan wasn’t given a System so much as a brief Tutorial, but some things are set in stone! Maiming, at the worst. Not even visible maiming.
Shen Yuan is writing down every word he can associate with the color white when Shen Qingqiu emerges, gliding away like a furious cloud. It’s undignified chasing after him, but signing up to be a minion is an undignified position. Shen Yuan has made his bed, and now he lies in it.
“So-”
“Qing Jing Peak will receive all requested supplies and your special request for more disciples has been approved.”
Only Shen Qingqiu could say all that like every word tastes foul. Truly, it is a talent!
“Good! Good. That makes things easier.”
Silence. Shen Yuan keeps up with the Peak Lord easily, awkwardly shuffling papers around into a more dignified carry.
“Rabbit.”
“No.”
“Ice—”
“I explicitly forbade snow.”
“Ice and snow are— okay, fine! Silver.”
Shen Qingqiu’s lip actually curls. “Never.”
“Moonlight.”
“....”
“Moonlight it is!” Shen Yuan says, triumphant. Not a bad name at all, if he says so himself. A Peerless Immortal, riding on Moonlight! Of course, Shen Qingqiu only rides inside carriages, never actually on horseback, but the idea holds.
“If you insist,” Shen Qingqiu says, distracted. Which is weird, because he’s looking at Shen Yuan, out of the corner of his eye. The meeting must still be on his mind then. Well, not like it's any of a lowly assistant’s business! Shen Yuan is gonna stay far away from all that resentment, thank you very much.
Luckily, Shen Qingqiu’s strange mood doesn’t carry through the rest of the day, and Shen Yuan’s strange burst of energy does. Whatever it is that caused this, he’ll take it and say thanks! No looking inside any horse’s mouths for Shen Yuan.
Shen Qingqiu had made sure to thoroughly study the use and effects of the Tender Flowering Peach Blossom, knowing that he would have no one to consult or rely on besides himself. Qian Cao Peak offers to provide it (and its mirroring counterpart, Virile Sprouting Bamboo Shoots) to anyone who requests it, along with detailed instructions for correct usage, but that isn’t an option for him. The person who intends to use the blend for themselves is the one who must make the request, and a record would be made of the request as well. That would be… potentially inconvenient.
Instead, he has made his purchase discreetly through private vendors, and he researched the preparation and possible side effects and risks on his own as well. He had been thorough and exacting. Still, once he returns to the Bamboo House he goes through his readings again, just to be certain. To reconfirm.
He finds nothing new. Then, Shen Yuan’s liveliness… perhaps that is a sign of the addictive properties the texts had warned him of?
While proper research and preparation have rendered this flower into something useful and convenient, it should still be kept in mind that it grew and evolved with predation in mind. Consuming the blend made of this flower must be careful and measured, lest the user be overwhelmed by the irresistibly pleasant effects imparted by it, and thus be driven to consume more than is safe or appropriate. Therefore this author must strictly recommend no more than one serving of the blend per day, as measured by…
That is the other reason why he cannot rely on Qian Cao Peak for his needs. They would give him the ‘correct’ dosage, without taking his own goals into account. What does it matter if Shen Yuan loses the ability to ‘resist’ the tea, if she is meant to continue to drink it? Shen Qingqiu himself will ensure that she drinks no more (and no less) than is appropriate or needed. He knows what he’s doing.
It would be better for this process to be over with sooner rather than later, after all.
Days pass, and all goes as it should. Shen Yuan drinks her tea in the morning and the evening, humming with approval and licking her lips to chase the taste once she’s done. As oblivious and unsuspecting as a deer in the sights of a hunter, trustingly drinking whatever is handed to her. Ridiculous. She is fortunate that Shen Qingqiu wishes her no ill will.
He quietly stops bothering to pour a cup for himself, something which is barely noted upon.
“It is too sweet,” is all he says upon questioning, before he adds, “I still have some left over, however. I will continue to brew it for you.”
“Ah, would you?” Shen Yuan asks, brightening up a little. Pleased to be doted on. “Sorry if that’s inconvenient, but honestly that’s some of the best tea you’ve gotten your hands on yet. What’s it called?”
It is an idle, incurious question. Shen Qingqiu deals with it appropriately.
“I do not recall,” is what he says and, “I will look into it.”
Shen Yuan hums an affirmative, and that is that. She does not remember to ask again.
Shen Qingqiu watches her closely for changes, in quiet moments when she is distracted and he can study her face without notice. He hunts her features and figure for some sign of his interference - his improvements. Has her face softened slightly? Is her voice gentler yet? Has her chest begun to grow? If there are any changes then they are still subtle enough to be impossible to truly discern, to be certain that they are there and not a mere figment of his imagination and second guessing. Looking for faces in clouds and finding them.
He reminds himself over and over again to be patient, that a watched pot does not boil, and that progress will be slow until it isn’t - and then it will be too late. A twice daily dosage should still bring fruit to bear more quickly, however.
The new disciples arrive, young children selected by Shen Yuan herself out of the hopefuls on offer - five instead of the promised three, a number she had wheedled and pleaded and argued for on the day of selection, an utterly unsurprising development. Both greedy and softhearted, of course she had been unable to stop herself. Even less surprisingly, Shen Qingqiu had grudgingly indulged her. Another girl would suit Qing Jing very well, wouldn’t it, Shixiong? We have too many male disciples! Ah, if we make this one wait any longer then he’ll miss his best years for cultivating… And what about this one, he’s musically gifted. Letting any other peak have him would be a waste!
Shen Qingqiu drags himself through the tea ceremonies to welcome them to the peak, tiny little hands nervously and clumsily offering him the cup. Shen Yuan stands off to the side looking on, and when Shen Qingqiu accepts and shallowly sips at the tea it is more for her sake than theirs. Are you happy now he asks with a pointed arch of his brow after each one, and she avoids eye contact as she tries to bite back her smile, congratulating the new disciples.
When she leads the last one out, the child dares to reach for her hand. He watches her blink with surprise, and then give the child a warm, encouraging smile.
“You did so well,” she says in a conspiratorial whisper, and then they’re gone.
Honestly. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t know why he ever thought such a person could be a man - nor, for that matter, how Shen Yuan could possibly think herself a man. This will fit her much better. She’ll almost certainly disagree at first, but Shen Qingqiu will stand firm and she will relent in the end.
He knows what’s best for her, after all.
Ah, little buns! Adorable little disciples, hopping around the Peak! Shen Yuan can’t help but coo a bit over them, with the way they get so excited about becoming cultivators. It takes everything he has not to pat them on the head and pinch their cheeks, but he does resist. That’s not really his place. He’s still an assistant, not a teacher. But if a little one reaches out a hand, well, he’s hardly got a stone for a heart. You have to take a little kid’s hand when they offer it to you. That’s just the law.
Shen Yuan perhaps spends a bit too much time running after them when there is so much other work that needs doing, but it’s fine. He gets stuff done, and Shen Qingqiu doesn’t say anything about it. He gives some looks, but Shen Qingqiu gives him looks over everything these days. If he doesn’t like it, he will say something. In fact, the only time he seems to like something is when he doesn’t say anything. So, perhaps this is good news? If Shen Yuan is handling the disciples, then maybe Shen Qingqiu will completely miss Luo Binghe when he does finally arrive. Shen Yuan will call that a win. Let the Abyss open under his feet and he falls in by cruel chance! That works just fine as a story, in his honest opinion.
Though, it might be catching up with him. Shen Yuan isn’t tired, not in the way he used to get, but he’s been getting a weird, lingering soreness in his chest. Nothing unbearable, mostly just kind of annoying. Surely even being an average cultivator is supposed to save you from such things. Does signing up as a minion actually downgrade your cultivation level? Things he would have asked a System, if he had one!
Nothing for it though. A mild ache isn’t nearly bad enough to go all the way to Qian Cao to get checked out, and honestly Shen Yuan is so busy throughout the day he basically forgets about it. Besides, he’s pretty sure that Peak is doing a massive restructure under Mu Qingfang’s new stewardship, and Shen Yuan wants to stay as far away from that as possible for as long as possible. He suspects that anyone who sets foot there and isn’t actively dying gets roped into half a dozen tasks.
But the thing about distraction as a treatment plan is that it only works while he’s busy. And despite everything going on, Shen Yuan is not actually busy all the time. Evening meetings have become a habit now, an opportunity to debrief and discuss the events of the day (while enjoying an absolutely delicious cup of tea). But once the discussion has died down and the tea has been drunk, Shen Yuan is left with his aching chest and nothing to distract from it. He’s sitting there, trying not to focus on it, while Shen Qingqiu finishes his own cup.
Shen Yuan shifts uncomfortably. His chest is almost starting to hurt now, a dull, throbbing pain spread across his whole front. Is he sleeping on his stomach somehow? Surely that can’t be it, he always wakes up on his back. It’s weird, it didn’t feel so intense before he sat down.
“Are you ignoring your Shixiong?”
“Huh?” Shen Yuan says, so eloquently. “A-apologies, Shixiong. I was briefly distracted.”
“Distraction is a sign of a weak mind,” Shen Qingqiu says, not even like an accusation. He says it like it's just a fact.
Shen Yuan rolls his eyes. “This one has a lot on his mind. Did you decide on how you wanted to handle the Hallmasters’ quarreling?”
Shen Qingqiu sighs mightily. “If the Peak Lord’s assistant insists against this Master’s original proposal—”
“This humble assistant only advised it would not be an effective solution.” Declaring that they would figure it out between them or both of them would be tossed off the mountain would certainly lead to more problems than solutions.
“—then assign the students to more duties, as Hallmaster Yin said. They are here to become scholars, and will devote themselves fully to that pursuit.”
“She only wants them doing more chores…” Shen Yuan mutters sulkily, shifting his shoulders. It pulls on the soreness in his chest, slightly, which isn’t much relief but at least is something. “But fine, whatever, at least that’s resolved now.”
“It will be to their benefit, in the long term.” Shen Qingqiu says, his eyes unconsciously going to Shen Yuan’s shoulders, following the motion. He stops, and Shen Qingqiu’s gaze bounces back to his face. “You shall see very soon.”
Shen Yuan hums vaguely, and makes his excuses to leave. It’s getting late, for a world without electricity, and the sun setting is as good an excuse as any to go to bed.
That night, Shen Yuan tosses and turns, and he wakes up sweat soaked, panting, his sleep robes shucked off, with strange dreams leaving ghosts of sensations and images lingering long after he’s woken up. When he looks down, the first thing he sees are nipples, pink and standing tall, as he heaves for air. For some reason, they capture his attention. Are they… different, somehow? Larger, maybe?
No, that’s ridiculous. He must just be seeing them at a strange angle. There are more important things to worry about anyway.
Shen Yuan ignores the way he can’t seem to entirely forget his robes pressing against his chest, all day long.