[Ding! Pre-canon storyline has begun.]
[Binding Host to Character Shen Qingqiu...]
[Error! Unable to bind Host!]
[Attempting to find Role for Host...]
[...]
Shen Yuan blinked awake and immediately wanted to retch.
He was somehow on hard ground, on his side. He tried to roll over onto his back, attempting to get away from the stench that was wafting into his nose, but a fierce pain ran through his stomach. He groaned, clutching his abdomen, fighting to not throw up from the agony and the horrible smell.
"A-Yuan?" A young-sounding voice whispered into the dark. There was some shifting near him before a small hand reached out to touch his forehead. Shen Yuan flinched away from the hand, and it stopped a few inches away, hovering in the air. He closed his eyes again. "...don't try to pretend you've fallen back asleep, idiot. Let me see how you're feeling."
The hand finally made contact, trying to take his temperature. Shen Yuan groaned again, but buried his head further into the coolness of the hand on his forehead. It was a sharp contrast to the rising heat in his body that he was becoming aware of.
He tried to push past the pain and the grogginess to remember where he was, but nothing came up in recent memory. Last he remembered, he was at his computer, writing another comment on Airplane's latest chapter and eating some yogurt from his fridge. Had the yogurt gone bad or something? Had he been so delirious after eating it that he had wandered outside in search of help and passed out in an alleyway?
It would explain how hard the ground felt beneath his head, but not the strange kid (he assumed it was a kid, anyway) near him who was trying to help. Yet, the kid's voice felt... familiar, somehow.
A sigh. "You feel warm. I think you have a fever." No wonder he felt so tired despite having just woken up. A comforting smell came closer, and Shen Yuan moved towards it, until the top of his head bumped against a leg.
"Why do you always act like your head is stuffed full of leaves?" the voice said. The hand was now stroking his head in a clumsy, but familiar, attempt to soothe. It was working. He blinked, trying to fight sleep long enough to figure out what was going on. Who was this person again? "I told you not to eat that bun. It had gone bad, A-Yuan."
"But I was hungry!" Shen Yuan whined. He blinked again. What? That had come from him, from his mouth, but-- He suddenly felt very strange past the stomachache and fever, as if he somehow didn't fit right into his body. As if his body was too small and his mind blurry.
"Well, now look at you." The hand on his head suddenly shot out to grab his cheek, pinching and twisting roughly. What the fuck!? That hurt! Shen Yuan tried to pull away but was unsuccessful. "You're lucky Qi-ge said he knew where he could get some stomach medicine."
He would also need some medicine for his cheek at this rate. A strange thought pinged in the back of his head, suddenly feeling like he knew where he could get some. He had seen some herbs the other day that he somehow knew could be ground into a paste for small wounds and bruises.
"Ow, gege!" The cruel fingers just pinched his cheeks harder, before he was finally let go moments later. Why did his gege and all the jiejies like pinching his cheeks so much?
...his gege? Shen Yuan tried to think, but his head felt more and more heavy, his thoughts slipping through his fingers. Something was wrong, but he couldn't figure out what. Whatever, it was fine. His gege would take care of it.
"Ugh, 'm sorry," Shen Yuan mumbled around his throbbing cheek. His gege hmph'd before falling silent, resuming his head petting.
Shen Yuan attempted to focus on how nice it felt to have his head petted. They sat in silence for a few minutes, during which Shen Yuan slowly but surely started to drift off to the rhythm of having his hair stroked.
"Falling asleep again already?" Shen Yuan didn't respond, only humming. Distantly, he felt his upper body carefully being moved onto someone's lap. He snuggled closer, breathing in the smell of his gege past the smell of unwashed bodies that he had long gotten used to in their years on the street. "Go ahead and sleep, then. I'll wake you up when Qi-ge gets back."
He was already fully asleep when the voice finally spoke again.
"Maybe next time, you'll know to listen to your Jiu-ge."
[...]
[Ding! Host has been bound to Role: The Scum Villain's Brother.]
Shen Qingqiu was doomed.
He stood still, fluttering his fan nervously and trying to avoid catching his counterpart's, the real Shen Qingqiu, glaring eyes from across the room. Instead, he idly observed the other Cang Qiong Mountain Peak Lords, trying to spot the differences between the ones he knew and their alternates.
Liu Qingge had brought back a strange artifact from one of his hunts to the monthly Peak Lord meeting. It was a mirror, rimmed an ugly tarnished gold, topped with a decoration that was shaped into an unidentifiable creature with ruby red eyes.
[Important Artifact Detected: Red-Eyed Sphinx's Mirror! Quest starting...]
Shen Qingqiu had been trying to remember where it might have appeared in PIDW when the surface of the mirror suddenly began to glow a dull yellow. It quickly brightened until it obscured everyone's vision.
And then, there stood another set of peak lords across the room, facing them down.
System, what on earth is going on???
[Quest started: Lost Long Spirit in My Reflection! Other characters have been transported to this universe. Host must find a way to send them back without revealing his identity as a transmigrator.]
WTF? I didn't agree to this!
[Good luck!]
System??? Get back here!
While the two Yue Qingyuans and Xu Qinglis conversed together to try to understand what had happened, the other peak lords had begun to mingle with each other, curious about their counterparts.
Shen Qingqiu tried to suppress his panic, sticking close to Shang Qinghua. His Yue Qingyuan occasionally flicked his softened gaze towards the alternate Shen Qingqiu, likely noticing that the other still acted as he used to before his qi deviation. In fact, several of the peak lords he had gotten to know over the years were sending some looks at the other Shen Qingqiu.
With the original goods right there, how long would it be before something exposed him as a fraud?? What if he was confronted about why he acted so differently?
[Host must avoid having his identity exposed. Being revealed as a transmigrator will result in Host being immediately sent back to his old body.]
Yeah, yeah, same shit as always!
Looking to his side, Shang Qinghua seemed to be experiencing the same threats, desperately looking away from the more dead-eyed Shang Qinghua across the room who, luckily, was barely paying him any attention.
Fuck, what do we do?
---
Shen Qingqiu continued to glare at the Other Shen Qingqiu in the room. The other Shen Qingqiu was so obviously a fraud, he could tell within minutes of being here. While his alternate seemed somewhat familiar, he didn't act like him at all, his mannerisms were all off, and despite the attempt at keeping a poker face, Shen Qingqiu could tell that he was nervous. Probably at being caught out.
His alternate self had likely been replaced with a bodysnatcher or some sort of spirt, if they truly were supposed to be the same person. Was everyone else stupid, or had they had their brains sucked out by a Heart Mouthed Lobster-Squid?
Or maybe they simply like the bodysnatcher better and didn't bother to investigate.
Shen Qingqiu's face became stormier, turning his glare to the Other Yue Qingyuan, wondering if he had felt happier once his precious Xiao-Jiu had vanished. The other Yue Qingyuan's face grew even more pathetic. Tch. Typical.
"That stupid System--" Shen Qingqiu nearly snapped his neck in looking at the bodysnatcher upon hearing his murmur. The fraud, upon noticing his sudden attention, clammed back up and looked away. But Shen Qingqiu knew what he heard.
Xi Tong.
He hadn't heard those words in years, not since--
He stepped forward, scanning the other once more. Upon a second, more thorough look, Shen Qingqiu realized that he grew more familiar. He wore his hair in the way that Shen Qingqiu wore it, but looser and less severe. His eyes were clearer and lighter, with hints of a smile, despite his nerves. He occasionally quickly glanced up and to his left, as if seeing something there, before bringing his attention back to the room at large.
No. It couldn't be. He was long dead, despite Shen Qingqiu's best efforts. Even if the fake had some similar things about him, that doesn't mean--
Shen Jiu had once had a brother, besides Qi-ge. Slightly smaller than him, despite the fact that Shen Jiu passed him along as much food as he could when on the streets. He smiled so much despite their circumstances, and was so kind despite Shen Jiu constantly telling him that he was making himself a target. But he looked so, so similar to Shen Jiu himself. They could have switched their clothes and looked exactly the same, if one didn't notice the difference in their demeanors.
His brother has also always been a little odd, talking to himself and arguing with an imaginary friend that only he could see named Xi Tong. One of the reasons that they survived as long as they did on the streets was due to the inexplicable knowledge that his brother seemed to have. Somehow, his brother knew about the various plants or small animals that they could hunt and sell for a pretty coin in the markets. Shen Jiu never asked, not looking a gift horse in the mouth.
But his brother was dead. He had died years ago, in the time during when they were in Qiu's manor. During a punishment for Shen Jiu's attempt to get them both to join Wu Yanzi; he had switched their clothes and taken Shen Jiu's place and died for it. That had been the final catalyst that made him set the manor ablaze and escape, mourning his brother's death as his fault for daring to be free. Cursing Qi-ge for not coming back for them.
Dazed and his vision dim, Shen Jiu took another step forward, and another. Hope, something he thought he had killed off long ago, slowly rose in his chest.
Had his brother survived in this world? Had he managed to escape alongside Shen Jiu? Or had Shen Jiu died in his place? Dimly, he can't help but think that the world would be far kinder if that were the case. If his brother had made it to Cang Qiong Mountain and became a peak lord all on his own and still managed to keep his smile. If he didn't have Shen Jiu dragging him down with him.
The other Shen Qingqiu, not having noticed his approach, laughed at something the other Shang Qinghua said ("Wonder if Shang Qinghua is a traitor here, too," Shen Jiu thought dimly). His laugh was the same. He rose his fan to hide his face, but Shen Jiu noticed how his nose crinkled, and his eyes nearly closed in delight, exactly like--
"A-Yuan?"
airplane sketchpage
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Something like this would be so colossally helpful. I'm sick and tired of trying to research specific clothing from any given culture and being met with either racist stereotypical costumes worn by yt people or ai generated garbage nonsense, and trying to be hyper specific with searches yields fuck all. Like I generally just cannot trust the legitimacy of most search results at this point. It's extremely frustrating. If there are good resources for this then they're buried deep under all the other bullshit, and idk where to start looking.
tried 2 come up w a reasonable cumplane situationship scenario and this happened
Here have a sunset! 🌅 (at Fort Myers, Florida) https://www.instagram.com/p/BsHHIprFmOA/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=13bs8k9cfe0wg
weird fic idea: A weird ass cult devoted to the Creator somehow decide that Shen Qingqiu is that Creator and, thus, kidnaps him. They feed him some truth serum and wait, hoping that he spills divine secrets and cosmic wisdom.
Shen Qingqiu, completely confused: "I have no idea why you think I’m some kind of god."
Cultists, gasping: "My Creator, you're so humble!"
Shen Qingqiu: "No, seriously. This is a mistake. Let me go."
Cultists, knowing he's under truth serum: "...?"
The peak lords break in to rescue him just in time for them to hear him accidentally insinuate that, while he was involved in helping form the world, he's not the Creator, Shang Qinghua is.
I don’t know why that affected me so strongly, but I’m watching a youtube video on disasters on Lake Huron, and the first one involves a coal freighter that was lost in the White Hurricane of 1913 called the SS Argus. Everyone on the ship was lost. But it’s mentioned that the captain’s body washed up later, and was found without a life jacket. So they thought, based partly on testimony of another ship that thought they saw them go down, that it just happened too fast for him to have time to get his jacket. But then another body was found, that of the second cook, and she was found wearing the life jacket marked ‘captain’. And that’s …
It didn’t work. It didn’t save her. But it’s so very possible that he spent his last moments alive trying to save someone else, one of his crew, and they probably both knew that it wouldn’t work, that there wasn’t a lot of hope in a blizzard on the lakes in November, but he tried … he tried anyway. Even if it did nothing but maybe make her body easier for her family to find.
You know that Mr Rogers thing of ‘look for the helpers’? How many times has someone, facing the end, done something tiny and fragile and maybe hopeless just to try and help someone else? Whether it works or not. How many people went to their graves at least trying?
That has to say something about us. As a people. As monstrous as we sometimes (perhaps often) are, so many times we were also …
Whoever saves one life, saves the whole world.
And sometimes you can’t save one life, sometimes it doesn’t work, sometimes there’s no getting out of this for anyone, but … try anyway. Because it matters anyway.
And maybe no one will ever know. But maybe also some day more than a century down the line, maybe some idiot will be crying into her coffee because of what you died trying.
It just kills me when writers create franchises where like 95% of the speaking roles are male, then get morally offended that all of the popular ships are gay. It’s like, what did they expect?
Look at me back on my BS. HC—Shen Yuan looks like Mobei Jun.
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Shen Yuan was a cute guy, at least his mom always said he was. He honestly didn’t care much for his looks. He was a teenage boy, and his interests lied with books, gaming, and trolling the comments section of the PIDW forums.
So maybe this whole thing was the forums fault?
Apparently Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky was going to make his first ever public appearance at a convention—it was exciting stuff seeing as PIDW just received a live action TV deal. (Shen Yuan wondered if the TV show would be able to transform the utter garbage parts into gold.)
Shen Yuan, with the fervor only a true (anti) fan could muster, scrambled to get his hands on a convention ticket the moment they went on sale. His parents even encouraged him! Happy to see him excited for something other than the internet. Securing his place, he also entered the cosplay competition where Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky would be a judge. Because why not? When else would he get to dress like a xianxia character?
It took him a while to decide who he wanted to dress up as. Look, if it were up to Shen Yuan he’d have been Luo Binghe. But, one, he doubted he could pull it off. Two, there were probably going to be a ton of Luo Binghe’s.
“Be the ice king,” his younger sister suggested one evening while the two fo them were hanging out in Shen Yuan’s room. She was busy on her Switch while he was on his laptop.
“Mobei Jun?” He asked, a skeptical look on his face.
“Yeah! You look like him.”
Which was untrue but whatever. Since he didn’t have any other ideas, he spent weeks (months) perfecting his costume, studying every detail from the illustrations and fan art.
(Shen Yuan learned how to sew for this costume!)
(And spent way too much money on commissioning what he couldn’t make.)
“You need to bulk up a bit,” his second older brother suggested one night. “I read some of Proud Immortal Demon Way, and Mobei Jun isn’t a twig like you.”
“Ha, A-Yuan is more of a twink,” his eldest brother teased.
So…Shen Yuan began to work out. He still had a few months until the costume contest.
It was hard at first, but his doctor had been on board. Granted, Shen Yuan couldn’t really get buff within a few months, but he did wind up with the beginnings of abs, his shoulders broadened and his ass looked great. There were a bunch of girls (and some guys) who made eyes at him at school now. Not that Shen Yuan noticed. But, he did notice that for the first time in his 19 years, he felt healthy.
When the day of the convention finally arrived, Shen Yuan found himself subjected to his sister's meticulous and admittedly skilled hand. She styled his already long black hair, adding extensions to achieve the full, flowing mane of Mobei Jun. She also worked some magic with makeup, highlighting his naturally icy blue eyes, which he had always considered a genetic defect, but today they were his greatest asset.
When he looked in the mirror, he barely recognized himself. There stood Mobei Jun, the demon king, imposing and cold. Shen Yuan’s heart pounded with excitement and a tinge of apprehension as he made his way to the convention center. His siblings in tow, because they wanted to root for him. As embarrassing as that was.
Upon arrival, the crowd was bustling with anticipation. Shen Yuan attracted a lot of attention—both for his stunning costume and his uncanny resemblance to Mobei Jun. A lot of people called out “my king!” As he walked by them, his cloak billowing behind him.
Damn, he felt majestic as fuck.
As he stood before the judges—a voice actress, a manhua artist and Airplane himself—he couldn’t help but feel a mix of pride and anxiety.
That was until he saw Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky for the first time. And. Wow. Okay.
Airplane was younger than Shen Yuan thought. Maybe 20; handsome, which was so weird. Square-jawed, in great shape with his DanDaDan graphic tee stretched enticingly over his pecs and biceps. His hair was curly and kept in an attractive undercut. He wore glasses and had ear piercings and a lip piercing and dimples and a sleeve tattoo. What? What the fuck?
Was Shen Yuan experiencing heart palpitations?
Airplane looked exactly how Shen Yuan envisioned Luo Binghe to look.
Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky's dark eyes widened in surprise and delight at seeing a Mobei Jun cosplay. It wasn’t done often, the king was not a fan favorite. But, his jaw dropped as he stared.
Something happened when Shen Yuan and Airplane's eyes met. A zing went up Shen Yuan's spine. Airplane stopped the contest then and there and declared Shen Yuan the winner while jokingly (not really) asking for his phone number. They did get to chat later, one-on-one, when Airplane began to sign autographs into books.
“Well, My King,” Airplane smiled at Shen Yuan, and there went his heart again! Which was bad, and meant that Shen Yuan probably needed to see a doctor. “What name shall I write out as the receiver of this book?”
“Um,” Shen Yuan’s brain scrambled. Did he give his name? Did he coyly say Mobei Jun? Ah, he didn’t know what he was doing! That was his only excuse as he blurted out, “Peerless Cucumber.”
Airplane froze.
Shen Yuan froze.
And then Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky began to laugh.
certain kind of tragedy i think in still following your childhood best friends online. like once upon a time you knew me better than anyone. i thought we would be friends forever. now we are Adults and Different and even despite that I so badly wish we could still Talk like we were 13. i dont know who you are. I miss you.
"Why did you kill my brother?" Despite how most of her face was covered by a viel, Liu Mingyan's grey eyes alone held immeasurable hatred. She had been waiting, her grip on her sword white-knuckled, as if she was itching to cut him down where he stood.
Shen Jiu nearly flinched. The Old Palace Master had dragged introductions and the "testing" questions out long enough in order to make sure the serum was "working" and fighting his loose lips had take more of his willpower than he thought. Resisting drained the spare qi he had left circulating in his body. The Old Place Master had simply chuckled, enjoying the spectacle, and told him that it would be easier to answer.
He had wanted to laugh. Easier? No, it would be easier for them, but not for him. Not for anyone who had anything worth keeping buried. Any slip in his concentration and he would say something that he didn't want to. He was being run ragged, and they hadn't even gotten to the main plaintiffs that had demanded this whole trial in the first place, Liu Mingyan and Qiu Haitang.
(Seeing Tang'er made his heart pound in remembered affection. He didn't regret saving her.)
Why did you kill my brother? Lost in his thoughts, and with the serum clawing at his throat, Shen Jiu's mouth had opened without his notice.
"I didn't kill him." Silence fell.
Fuck.
"You-- what?" Liu Mingyan faltered, before her eyes hardened once more. "No, you killed him. Or you fatally injured him and then left him to die like the dishonorable wretch--"
"I didn't kill him." Shen Jiu desperately tried to shut his mouth but he was so tired. "He qi-deviated and attacked me, and I tried to save him. I poured myself into him, I nearly died giving everything that I had in my spiritual veins to save that brute from his own folly, but I failed. Just like--" He nearly bit through his tongue in his attempt to stop talking.
"Just like what?" Liu Mingyan demanded, stepping closer.
Shen Jiu clenched his teeth and his fists against the pull of the serum, sweating with the effort of restraining himself, but the words were ripped out, raw and vicious.
"Just like I always do," he spat, the bitterness thick in his throat. "I failed. I always fail."
"You expect me to beielve that? After everything, after how much you fought with him over the years, you want me to believe that you tried to save him?" The fire in Liu Mingyan's eyes hadn't died but there was something else now-- hesitation, confusion.
"I don't give a damn what you believe," he snarled, voice like a whipcrack through the silence. Liu Mingyan stepped back at his words. "If I had wanted him dead, I wouldn't have wasted my own energy trying to save his stupid, arrogant, bullheaded self from his own mistakes!"
His breath was uneven and he was shaking subtly. His tongue throbbed and his mouth was flooded with the taste of blood, his blood. If not for the immortal binding cables, Shen Jiu was sure that he would be on edge of a qi deviation.
"You're lying," Liu Mingyan finally said. There was a waver in her voice. "You're lying, you must be."
He had said too much. And yet, it wasn't enough. It never was.
"The truth serum doesn’t allow for that," Mu Qingfang murmured from the side, his voice dangerously quiet. So much for his "cause no harm" oaths. "Especially not with him being so drained of qi."
Shen Jiu let out a harsh, humorless laugh. "Exactly."
What was the point in telling the truth if no one ever believed him?
Shen Qingqiu glared at the Old Palace Master. He just knew that the bastard was smirking behind his raised sleeves, sure of his destruction. Well, given the truth serum that they had just forced down his throat for this sham of a trial, the Old Palace Master might be right, but Shen Qingqiu-- Shen Jiu had never gone down without a fight.
Still, it would be hard to resist the serum. They had forced him to take Hearts' Sorrow, which was notorious for not only forcing a person to answer truthfully, but also had a tendency to loosen the person's inhibitions so as to make it harder to control their emotions and the ability to keep their mouth shut.
Shen Jiu liked to pretend that he didn't have any emotions to exploit, his heart as cold as his face, however, he was already exhausted and stressed from the entire ordeal. His mind raced through the fog of the serum and the weakness induced by the immortal binding cables, yet the only real tactic he had at the moment was to quite literally bite his tongue so he couldn't speak.
He knew he had the bad habit of not explaining himself, of just letting people think what they wanted to think, which often lead to people just assuming the worst of him. He knew he wasn't a good person, either, so often, it was justified. After all, he had kicked that little beast down into the Abyss (though, he had considered it a favor rather than killing the beast, and look where that had gotten him).
But he still had things he wanted to protect. Even if Yue Qingyuan (Qi-ge) liked to pretend to not have started in the dirt like the slaves they used to be, he still refused to reveal anything that might harm the other.
He bit down harder and tasted iron.
Even if Qi-ge had abandoned him, Xiao Jiu would keep his promise.