deercountry | Shen Yuan | November Catch-All

He takes Shen Yuan's offered hand in his own, cold and dry as midwinter, and nods.

"Yes. Show me."

He wants to see this disciple that Shen Yuan thought he had no choice but to kill; Luo Binghe. He wants to understand Shen Yuan's reasons for such a thing. A great deal must have gone wrong indeed.

Shen Yuan nods, and tugs Lan Xichen down to sit next to him on the bed. From the corner between his pillow and the wall he retrieves it: a little metal box, plain in every way, but he holds it like it's a holy relic.

"I received this from my patron Pthumerian last July," he whispers. "It shows my memories, like...like the recordings on the network, only they're mine. They come from me." He knows he's doing a bad job of explaining it, but he's too emotional, just now, to do better. He ducks his head, avoiding eye contact as he presses the box's sides. "I know it's foolish, but I use it sometimes to remind myself of when he was happy."

And possibly to punish himself for destroying it all, but shhh. Some truths he's not ready to face yet.

In the air above the box, the image of a desk appears. Two arms clad in dangling green sleeves lean on it; in one hand is a brush, and notes on a lesson plan are being written. A door opens somewhere and a tired voice that sounds like Shen Yuan but older and colder says, "Just leave it on the table, Ming Fan."

"This disciple journeyed through the night to see shizun," a youthful, sweet, yet masculine voice replies. "Won't he spare a single look for me?"

The brush stills, and then is dropped back into its stand. The first voice calls, "Binghe!" losing all but a hint of it's cold remoteness, and the view changes rapidly as Shen Qingqiu turns around and pushes himself to his feet.

Luo Binghe is 17 and resplendent, straight-backed as a young tree and smiling like a cat that got away with the cream. He bows his head respectfully as his shizun approaches, but quickly looks up again, losing none of his smug happiness as his teacher taps him on the head with his fan guard.

"What are you doing back, silly boy?" Shen Qingqiu asks (he sounds more like an indulgent grandfather than a martial teacher). "Don't tell me the mission was too much for you?"

Binghe shakes his head. "I missed shizun so much that I completed the mission early, so I could come back today," he says, eyes sparkling, and gestures to the low table and tea set just behind him. "Won't shizun allow me to serve him?"

"Oh, alright," Shen Qingqiu says, with a transparently false put-upon sigh. "But really Binghe, you shouldn't push yourself like that. Even you can get tired, you know..."

Beside Lan Xichen, Shen Yuan is starting to sniffle and trying to hide it. "He was such a good, sweet boy," he whispers, as he mutes the recording of Binghe serving tea and taking his half-hearted scolding with a smile.

Xichen sits close to Shen Yuan, watching the scene play out. It's charming and idyllic, and it's rather clear the boy is utterly smitten with his shizun.

Xichen has had that happen a number of times, teenagers are going to teenager after all, and it's a delicate wire to walk by making sure the boundary between master and disciple is clear without cutting some poor youth too deeply over having a harmless precocious crush.

As far as he can tell, Shen Yuan is utterly ignorant to the boy's feelings and genuinely concerned for his well-being, treating him more how Xichen treats Huaisang than anything else.

"There is clearly a bond here," he says diplomatically. "But why break it?"

"The System," Shen Yuan says with a miserable snarl. He turns off the memory box, but continues to hold it in his hands, rotating it and tapping the sides as he says, "Binghe existed in my native world as a character in a book. The protagonist. It was the last thing I read before I died." He grimaces again. "Actually I technically died cursing the author out for giving him such a shitty ending...I was really sick at the time, in my defense."

"But then I died," he continues, "and I woke up in what I can only call the world of the book, in the body of one of the characters, and a voice in my head calling itself the System told me I had to pretend to *be* that character, or I'd be sent back to my original world. You know, where I was dead. I had to help Binghe pass certain plot milestones, or I'd be sent back to my original world, where I was dead. I had to," he chokes up again, voice cracking, but rallies and says, "I had to betray that sweet child, and throw him into the Endless Abyss, or I'd be sent back to my original world, where I was dead."

Switching to holding the box in one hand, he bunches up his sleeve with the other and uses it to scrub the falling tears from his face. "I know it's terrible," he mumbles into his sleeve. "You're going to say I should have let the System kill me rather than betray a disciple, right? That's what a real shizun would have done."

"We don't always make the best decisions faced with impossible choices."

Wasn't that how it was for Jin Guangyao? he thinks ruefully, and tries to shake the thought from his head.

It's such a non-answer, and Xichen hates it. Hates that part of him that wants to keep the peace still, even if there is no great political blowback to speaking his mind.

Taking a deep breath, he decides to give being a bit more open a try.

"Whether or not you should have died in his stead is irrelevant now. But the regret you feel shows the depth you cared for him, and that matters. You have a right to grieve, even if you think otherwise."

Edited 2022-11-12 22:30 (UTC)

"I do," Shen Yuan agrees, his voice hitching and cracking. "I regret it so much, I- I have to force myself not to think about it, because otherwise I'll do nothing *but* regret..."

And it's only because he got so drunk that he's showing his weakness like this, cracking open the mask and proving once and for all that he's not fine, that he carries that weight on his back like a prison of his own making. And then he really does begin to cry, and through his sobs he says,

"I still don't want him here!" he declares. "I'd do anything, give anything, to make him stay *there* while I stay *here.* If he comes here he'll hurt me, just like he hurt the original Shen Qingqiu in the book. And I know I d-d-deserve it," he sobs, "but I don't want to live through that, I don't, I don't..."

Perhaps realizing he's said too much, or just that he's gotten too loud for the late hour, he stuffs one of his hanging sleeves in his mouth, his shoulders convulsing with the strength of his sobs.

...Otherwise I'll do nothing but regret...

He is sharply reminded of his didi and his time in seclusion, how he intended to go into seclusion himself after everything.

An arm wraps gently around Shen Yuan's shoulder, gentle but firm, offering a physical support that words are inadequate to convey. He lets Shen Yuan shed his tears, lets him feel his heartache and fear and release it, instead of bottling it up.

Maybe the Gusu Lan Sect had a few things backwards...

"If he comes here, if he wakes on those shores, I will not let him hurt you. A-Yao will not stand for such a thing either. Shen-gongzi is not alone."

Shen Yuan sniffles hard, leaning his face into Lan Xichen's chest and, fuck it, throwing an arm around his waist. He's drunk and terrified and miserable, and he's been those last two things for literally years. Now somebody knows the worst of it and they're hugging him about it, so fuck dignity. He'll take this for as long as he can have it.

But he's also still Shen Yuan, and he can't stop himself from overthinking. "W-why?" he finally asks, looking up at Lan Xichen with soaked, bloodshot eyes. "Why do you care? Because we're c-cultivators, or..."

"No."

The answer is firm and assured. There is none of his hesitance and uncertainty that has plagued him since coming here.

No, longer than that. Though not much.

"I know what it is to take the life of someone you care about. I know what it is like to look upon lives lost, and wonder if there was, perhaps, some other way. I know very well what it is to have that pain and regret tear you apart from the inside out."

And he knew what needed to be done about it, what his Sect would demand of him, and he knew it was wrong. He would languish in isolation as the wounds bore deeper into him evermore until grief was all he knew.

That would not happen to his friend.

"I would be a poor friend if I let you deteriorate in such a way."

Tears still stream down his face, but somehow...the look on Lan Xichen's face, his voice, his arm still wrapped around Shen Yuan's body...they reach him somehow in the depths of his misery, and he finds himself at least a little comforted.

"Lan Xichen-gongzi is truly a good man," he whispers, and lets his head rest on Lan Xichen's shoulder once more. "A good friend."

A part of him wants to ask who Lan Xichen hurt, who he is still mourning, but he shies away from going through with it, his own wounds too raw to stand re-opening another's. Maybe some other time; and that at least he can bring himself to say out loud. "If Lan-gongzi ever wishes to unburden himself to me," he whispers, "if he thinks it would help, this one will listen."

He laughs wetly, the sound still half a sob. "This one will not even insist that he get drunk first."

"Shen-gongzi's words are kind," he says. "And one day this one will explain what happened. But not tonight."

There is a gentle squeeze to his shoulder, a small hum that is almost a laugh at the thought Shen Yuan thought anyone could insist on getting the First Jade of Lan drunk. While there were many Sect rules he bent (or broke), that was one he adhered to quite closely.

"Tonight, it is your own pain you need to begin setting down and you cannot do that if you are burdened by my own. Just know you that you do not have to do it in isolation."

Shen Yuan nods, relieved that they're both on the same page, and settles down again, tucked up against Lan Xichen's side. It's surprisingly comfortable, and warm in a way that has nothing to do with Lan Xichen's body temperature.

Eventually he sighs heavily and asks, "Lan-gongzi is truly good and kind. Is there nothing he wishes to ask this one, since he so generously pledged his help?"

Surely he wants to know what they could potentially be up against.

It's a good thing that the low light hides the faint blueish hue in his ears and cheeks. Shen Yuan is quite like Huaisang, used to a certain amount of affection and not shy about getting it, even if he has to fall into the arms of his san-ge and er-ge.

(Though the only reaction Huaisang gets is exasperated indulgence. He doesn't make the burning chill rise in Xichen's face and that's a lot to unpack right now.)

"A few, but they aren't immediately pressing. For now, I want to make sure you're alright."

"Mm." Shen Yuan doesn't move a single millimeter. He's comfortable now, and he's not going to look into it any further than that.

...Well. Maybe there is one more thing to consider. "Does Lan-gongzi intend to stay the night, in that case? This one has no objections... actually, I'd prefer it. It's cold and unsafe outside just now, and this one would blame himself if anything happened to Lan-gongzi on his way home in the dark."

He sounds perfectly calm about this, too emotionally burned out to even get embarrassed. He doesn't want Lan Xichen to go, and there are several very good reasons why he should say.

The cold is no excuse to keep him; these days, even the most bitter of frost feels like little more than the gentle and refreshing tickle of snowflakes. And he is not the one drunk. He can fly home just fine.

But...

Xichen sees no reason to move Shen Yuan. If something as simple as being a shoulder to lean on can lend him some small comfort, then he will stay put.

That is reason enough.

"Yes. I will send a message to A-Yao so he doesn't worry. He cares about you a great deal."

"I care for him too," Shen Yuan admits, interrupting himself with a wide, jaw-cracking yawn. "I don't think I'd even known how lonely I was until he appeared and said something nice about my guqin playing..."

He starts to lean more heavily onto Lan Xichen's shoulder, drowsiness weighing heavily on his shoulders like a warm, fluffy coat.

"He's very dear to me," Shen Yuan mumbles. "Feels like we understand each other better than anyone else does..."

There is a brief moment of joy; that sounds like Jin Guangyao, finding some small kindness to reach out to another. Most of the time, Xichen expected it was genuine.

Feels like we understand each other better than anyone else does...

Shen Yuan's next words lance through his heart.

Xichen had once felt very much the same, but now... now he felt as though he understood nothing, and had lost almost everything.

Almost. But Jin Guangyao was alive.

It's enough, he reminds himself not for the first time.

"Shen-gongzi should rest. We can talk more tomorrow."

He manages a smile. It's a weak thing, but sincere.

"I will stay."

And Shen Yuan mumbles a, "thank you," into Lan Xichen's shoulder, already nearly asleep, and entirely unaware of his pillow-friend's turmoil.

In the morning dignity will return, and with it embarrassment and shyness about expressing his inner feelings. But for now, however temporarily, he's warm, safe, and understood.

When Shen Yuan wakes, he'll find himself laid out and tucked neatly into bed. There is a tall glass of water on the table beside him and another basin with a washcloth so that he could wipe his face.

Xichen, true to his word, stayed all night. He's presently sitting on a mat, in a shallow sort of meditation. Enough to give his mind rest, but not so deep that he cannot be quickly roused.

When he hears Shen Yuan stir, he cracks open an eye.

"Good morning," he greets, keeping his voice quiet. He may never have experienced a hangover in his life, but one of his disciples is Lan Jingyi who may or may not have heard about the exploits of Wei Wuxian in his younger years, and seems determined to give the Yiling Patriarch a run for his money.

"How does Shen Gongzi feel...?"

Shen Yuan groans, pulling the blanket back over his head.

"Terrible," he groans from behind cover. "Wondering how Lan-gongzi can stand to look me in the eye." But that's his own embarrassment talking; no doubt a serene master cultivator like Lan Xichen doesn't even care how badly this Shen Yuan embarrassed himself last night. At least, said Shen Yuan hopes he doesn't.

He pushes the covers back again and forces himself to sit up, rubbing at his eyes. "I remember...most of last night, I think," he announces to the room at large, since he really can't handle looking at Lan Xichen directly just now. "Lan-gongzi really was outstandingly kind."

"Shen-gongzi did nothing to warrant unkindness, or embarrassment."

He gets slowly to his feet, and picks up the glass, passing it to Shen Yuan.

"I am honoured you felt you could speak frankly to me."

"Thank you," he whispers, accepting the glass. He can't agree with that statement, but dignity isn't so important to him that he'll openly contradict Lan Xichen in the moment. He'll just have to think of some way to make up for it later, and be more careful about drinking in the future.

After he's wet his throat, he finally gets it together enough to mention, "This one seems to recall speaking quite freely on a number of things last night, of greater or lesser importance."

It's not a question; more of an offering, to allow Lan Xichen to choose their course from here. Shen Yuan certainly hasn't proven himself to be possessed of any great gift for good judgement.

"All seemed quite important to this one," he says, and sits at the edge of the bed so he isn't looming over Shen Yuan. He folds his hands in his lap, his next words measured.

"...He would be glad if we could continue our earlier conversations, when Shen-gongzi is feeling better. This one has questions better answered when sober."

"Heh. I doubt Lan-gongzi cared much for this one's idea of poetry." Yes, Shen Yuan remembers singing *pop songs* at Lan Xichen and teasing him for not knowing them. Kill him now.

"But let this one assure Lan-gongzi, he is feeling entirely sober now. Painfully so," Shen Yuan adds, rubbing at the acupoint just above his ear. So this is what a hangover feels like. He never wants to feel this rotten ever again. "Just let me freshen up," he starts to say, climbing out of bed, "and I'll answer any questions Lan-gongzi cared to ask."

So, the million yuan question: did Lan Xichen take any of Shen Yuan's clothes off while he was asleep??

"On the contrary, I found the poetry refreshing," he remarks idly.

He watches as Shen Yuan gets up, but is relieved to find that he seems in good health other than his hangover.

"It is early enough in the day for breakfast still. Does Shen-gongzi have an appetite...?"

Alas, Lan Xichen is a good boy who only took off Shen Yuan's shoes and very outermost robe, the former set out by the side of the bed and the latter nneatly folded at the end.

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