“Shizun should listen to his friend,” Binghe says, smiling kindly – it’s not a smile Shen Yuan ever saw on his own white lotus disciple’s face, but he recognizes it just the same. It’s the kind of smile that hides a knife behind velvet and brocade, poison inside a delectable cake. It’s the kind of smile Emperor Luo Binghe only ever showed his enemies, before he…He…
Shen Yuan takes a deep breath, another one, wishes for Xiu Ya’s help – shit, if he’d put a hand on her hilt before they’d started the ritual, would she be here right now? Damn it, why didn’t he think of that before? – and masters himself without her help anyway. Well, mostly. His voice still shakes a little as he says, “My mistakes,” especially after Binghe’s smile widens and he gives Shen Yuan an encouraging nod. Badly rattled, he continues, “We’re – you’re here to make sure I face up to them, right? Okay,” he says when Binghe nods at him again, his eyes so wide and bright – damn it, it’s really not fair for someone to look that beautiful and that scary, all at once!
“Okay,” he says again, and lowers his head, keeping an eye on Luo Binghe through his dangling bangs as he drops into a deep bow. “I’m truly, terribly sorry for throwing Luo Binghe into the Endless Abyss. I, I didn’t want to do it, and the fact that I did it anyway, it – It was a terrible failure on my part, I should’ve been smarter, protected Binghe better –”
“Is that what you think you were there for?” Binghe interrupts with a perfectly arched eyebrow. “To protect me?” Shen Yuan’s apology immediately stammers to a halt as he looks up at Binghe in unfeigned confusion.
“What else…?” he asks, standing up straight again. “I was your teacher…” Binghe shakes his head with a sigh.
“Shizun has such a terrible memory,” he says sorrowfully. “Allow this disciple to remind him.” And before Shen Yuan’s registered the move, before he can even think about dodging, Binghe’s landed an open-palm strike to his chest, knocking him backwards.
Shen Yuan’s back hits a soft, squishy surface, giving enough that he actually bounces a couple times before coming to a halt. He lies there, aching and panting for breath for a moment, before opening his eyes.
…Yep, that was his own bedroom ceiling, in the apartment he’d occupied in Beijing. Fuck. He sits up slowly, noting that his legs are shorter, his hands somewhat pudgier, his clothes – these are probably the exact hoodie and jeans he’d been wearing when he died. Even if he doesn’t remember what exactly he’d been wearing, the information might’ve been stored somewhere in his unconscious mind. Or it was just magic, whatever.
It’d have been nice to delude himself for at least a couple seconds that his whole transmigration had been some kind of fucked-up food poisoning-induced dream, but he can’t. He can hear someone moving around in the living room, where nobody’s supposed to be, and he’s already embarrassed himself more than enough. He shoves himself up and staggers towards his bedroom door, opening it roughly.
“This is the worst,” he informs Viktor, with a scowl on his face.
no subject
Shen Yuan takes a deep breath, another one, wishes for Xiu Ya’s help – shit, if he’d put a hand on her hilt before they’d started the ritual, would she be here right now? Damn it, why didn’t he think of that before? – and masters himself without her help anyway. Well, mostly. His voice still shakes a little as he says, “My mistakes,” especially after Binghe’s smile widens and he gives Shen Yuan an encouraging nod. Badly rattled, he continues, “We’re – you’re here to make sure I face up to them, right? Okay,” he says when Binghe nods at him again, his eyes so wide and bright – damn it, it’s really not fair for someone to look that beautiful and that scary, all at once!
“Okay,” he says again, and lowers his head, keeping an eye on Luo Binghe through his dangling bangs as he drops into a deep bow. “I’m truly, terribly sorry for throwing Luo Binghe into the Endless Abyss. I, I didn’t want to do it, and the fact that I did it anyway, it – It was a terrible failure on my part, I should’ve been smarter, protected Binghe better –”
“Is that what you think you were there for?” Binghe interrupts with a perfectly arched eyebrow. “To protect me?” Shen Yuan’s apology immediately stammers to a halt as he looks up at Binghe in unfeigned confusion.
“What else…?” he asks, standing up straight again. “I was your teacher…” Binghe shakes his head with a sigh.
“Shizun has such a terrible memory,” he says sorrowfully. “Allow this disciple to remind him.” And before Shen Yuan’s registered the move, before he can even think about dodging, Binghe’s landed an open-palm strike to his chest, knocking him backwards.
Shen Yuan’s back hits a soft, squishy surface, giving enough that he actually bounces a couple times before coming to a halt. He lies there, aching and panting for breath for a moment, before opening his eyes.
…Yep, that was his own bedroom ceiling, in the apartment he’d occupied in Beijing. Fuck. He sits up slowly, noting that his legs are shorter, his hands somewhat pudgier, his clothes – these are probably the exact hoodie and jeans he’d been wearing when he died. Even if he doesn’t remember what exactly he’d been wearing, the information might’ve been stored somewhere in his unconscious mind. Or it was just magic, whatever.
It’d have been nice to delude himself for at least a couple seconds that his whole transmigration had been some kind of fucked-up food poisoning-induced dream, but he can’t. He can hear someone moving around in the living room, where nobody’s supposed to be, and he’s already embarrassed himself more than enough. He shoves himself up and staggers towards his bedroom door, opening it roughly.
“This is the worst,” he informs Viktor, with a scowl on his face.