#the rating is uh pribably gonna b E thats why its taking me so long to finish oop

[mirai-eats]

Rewind and Start Over:: Noon

Bingqiu, rated M, 5,120 words, part 2/5, Incomplete

Angst, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, re-transmigration, Angst with a Happy Ending, Rating May Change

Modern science is so good it kept a dead man alive.

Shen Yuan is dragged forward but his feet are stubbornly digging in the ground. Luo Binghe is running as fast as he can to catch up.

- Binghe's perspective of Shen Qingqiu dropping dead back to life.

read on AO3

He promised. He promised he wouldn’t leave Luo Binghe ever again. Shizun said he would stay with him forever!

It fell away with the shatter of a broken teacup and a sharp inhale, his last gasp of air, from Shizun’s chest as his eyes rolled back and he collapsed in a heap on the other side of the low table. Luo Binghe cried out his name and lurched forward, the tea set shaking from the sudden movement. He shakily pulled Shen Qingqiu up in his arms, completely limp and not a trace of life left in his body. It was as if he’d fallen from the tower all over again- an empty kite with a hole in its wing with no cultivation or soul to give it flight.

Shen Qingqiu remained beautiful even in death, his layers of robes fanned out like he was a fallen flower, his hair loose from the impact of his fall and slipped from his silver and jade crown, a lock tracing his temple and the pale ribbons trailing his inky black hair like a green river in volcanic meadows. Luo Binghe gently lifted him, his name spilling from his lips and tears falling from his eyes stained the pale face already losing its shades of life and gave away to a deathly grey. There was no pulse, the warmth dripped away with each drop of a crystalline tear. No flutter of his eyelashes, no gentle rise and fall to his chest.

Luo Binghe worked quickly to preserve Shizun’s body all the while his mind scrambled to find a solution. There has to be a reason behind him suddenly dropping dead, something must have pulled the soul away. He promised! Something beyond his control had reached in and snatched Shen Qingqiu’s soul out from his body- the real body this time! He wouldn’t break a promise! Last time it was his useless father that had to pull Shen Qingqiu back to his real body from the Dew Seed body. There was no powerful demon to pull him away so suddenly, he was one of the most powerful demon lords there was absolutely no one who would dare to mess with him!

After pouring his spiritual energy into Shen Qingqiu and arranging him comfortably on the bed, he dropped the silken drapes to hide him away and set off toward Cang Qiong Mountain. 

---

Even after digging through the whole of the mountain and threatening every Peak Lord and every disciple, he came up with nothing. No one knew anything and was shocked to learn of his sudden passing. He didn’t believe a word.

A scurrying mouse caught his attention and he chased after it. 

---

“I don’t know anything!” Shang Qinghua squeaked in fright, the wall behind him blown in from the sudden force of Luo Binghe’s fist. He was trapped by Luo Binghe’s leering form, shivering under his glare. “I’m just as shocked as you are!”

“But you had a different look on your face when I told everyone,” Luo Binghe sneered. “You looked confused. Did you do something?”

“Nothing, nothing!” Shang Qinghua shrank deeper into his collar. “How-how about this. Leave me alone, but! I have an idea of how to get him back.”

“Talk,” Luo Binghe spat, eyes on fire. 

“I have a hypothesis that his soul might… might have been sucked off somewhere far away,” Shang Qinghua stuttered. “You can easily go traipsing through the human and demon realms with your demon and human blood, but-but this might be beyond our reach. Don’t ask how! It’s an untested theory!”

“Who did this?” He drove his fist deeper into the wall by Shang Qinghua’s head. He whimpered pathetically. 

“I don’t know!” He cried out. “But give me time, I’ll think of something to help Cu- Shen Shixiong out!”

Luo Binghe stepped back, a couple of crumpled rocks fell to the ground from the wall. “I’m going to continue physically searching. I’ll be back, for now, you must think of something before I return.”

With a flourish of his black robes he left. Shang Qinghua’s legs gave out and he slumped to the floor with a mutter of “scary, too scary!” under his breath. 

---

Nothing. He searched every crevice of the mortal and demon realm, shouted to the heaven’s to give him back. There wasn’t a whisper of his soul anywhere. He dug through holes in the mountains, swam down to the deepest parts of the lakes, turned over every rock and leaf in the world and there was no Shizun. 

He returned to Shen Qingqiu in his demon palace, resting in their grand bed and shielded away from prying eyes. He was stripped to his under robes, bathed in soft jasmine flowers, and his hair was brushed daily by Luo Binghe. It was always silky and knot-free. The long locks were braided loosely and he would lay him on his back and pull the silken blankets up to keep the chill off. His body was well preserved by Luo Binghe’s own spiritual energy as he did during the five year period of his death and for the first time in years, he went searching for humans with high spiritual power to help balance out his clashing demonic and spiritual energies. Every night, no matter how far away he searched, he always came back to lay next to Shen Qingqiu, curled up next to him under the blankets and cried  real, hot tears onto his lukewarm chest, kiss each finger, bury his face into the junction of his neck and inhale the subtly sweet scent of jasmine flowers, tea leaves, and something that’s so distinctly Shizun.

Every morning he’d rise before the sun, press a kiss on Shen Qingqie’s forehead as he always didoes to his demon mark, fills him with more spiritual energy, and disappear to find him.

---

He reappeared to harass Shang Qinghua over half a year later. 

“You need to reforge Xin Mo,” Shang Qinghua said. “But you’ll need to do more. As you might have found, Shen Qingqiu is nowhere on either world and the heavens have not sent a sign yet that he is with them. No soul has responded to inquiry, not unless he was split apart beyond anything recognizable, he must have been pulled far away.” His eyes shifted. He wasn’t telling Luo Binghe something. “But we can’t be certain. Try your alternate Bingge’s world and see if he’s been sucked in first.” 

“That’s exactly what I’m planning. What will it take to reforge?” 

To mine the steel of an immortal mountain, forge it in the fires of a mountain of blood, and slaughter a hundred thousand demons to stain the blade black with its malice. For at least one moon cycle it needs to be embedded in a corpse, preferably a full thirteen moon cycles but they were pressed for time. 

“It won’t be as powerful, but it should be enough” Shang Qinghua finished. 

Luo Binghe set off to start. How long it would take, he didn’t know. Shang Qinghua said it would take at least three years. He will do it in one. 

—-

The cloying darkness of the mine was nothing compared to the anguish in his heart, the burning flames of the bloody mountain were nothing but an added flame to his determination. His hands were bloody and raw, his skin dry and filthy- almost like he was back in the Endless Abyss again. 

Every night, he returned to bathe and curl up by his Shen Qingqiu, filled him with spiritual energy, then rose in the morning to take a human or two brimming with fresh spiritual energy and balance out his demonic energy. He wouldn’t have cared if the demonic energy laid waste to his body, but the flash of Shen Qingqiu behind his closed lids- laying stripped and raw and bloody from his uncontrolled hands would always send a shudder of fear deep in his heart. No matter the torment, how easy it would be to let go, he refused to fall for Shizun’s sake.

—-

The new sword was forged in record time (Xin Mo 2 is what he called it) and after a brief reprieve to rest at Shen Qingqiu’s side, kissed his naked cheek, wrapped his arms around his slim waist, and buried his head into his slender neck. He left at the break of dawn drained of spiritual energy and brimming with demonic energy.

First, he tracked down Luo Bingge’s world and traipsed through his cursed realm. It was colder here with Shen Qingqiu’s blood staining the soil. He crashed through the doors of Luo Bingge’s demon palace and found him in the arms of three wives.

“Get out,” he pointed his sword toward the three unfamiliar women. They quickly gathered their clothes and fled from the ominous blade, his ominous gaze.

“I thought you destroyed your sword,” Luo Bingge snarled. He lounged back on the large bed, uncaring of his nudity. He was exactly like Luo Binghe, minus his the scar on his chest and hand, the faithless look in his cold eyes, a cutting edge to his words. 

“I did, but I needed it again.” He pointed the blade to Luo Bingge. “Where’s Shizun?”

Luo Bingge arched his brow. “He’s not with you? I only have the remains of mine, do you wish to see him?”

The bloody, lifeless hunk of flesh Luo Bingge kept preserved in his dungeons could not be Shen Qingqiu, the blood soaking the walls and floors and ceiling were not his Shen Qingqiu’s. He felt a whiplash of cold strike through his heart at the thought of and Shen Qingqiu suffering a fate like that, limbless, half-blind, wholly mad, completely shattered even in death. Sometimes, the corpse swinging listlessly from the chain would haunt the deepest recesses of his dreams.

“No. I need mine.”

Luo Bingge spread his arms in welcome. “Feel free to search my realm, turn over every stone and leaf, to find him. But know you are wasting your time.”

With a flourish of his robes, Luo Binghe turned on his heel and marched out of the bedchamber and proceeded to search. 

This time it went faster with the help of his demon sword, stopping to flood his system with this realm’s cultivator’s spiritual energy then returned every night to put every drop into Shen Qingqiu. 

When he dug through the last mountain, he laid on his back and stared up at the bleak, grey clouds and let his tears drip down to his hairline.

---

He broke through Cang Qiong Mountain’s barriers with ease and kicked down Shen Qinghua’s private chamber’s doors down. A startled screech met his ears followed by a rough thump on the bamboo floors. Luo Binghe went around the private screen to find Shang Qinghua half out the bed, his robes pulled open, and Mo Beijun sitting up next to him, blinking the last remnants of sleep from his eyes. He gave Luo Binghe a short bow of his head and pulled Shang Qinghua up off the floor.

“Can’t you knock? Politely wait outside until I let you in?” Shang Qinghua hissed, pulling his thin robes tightly over his chest. Mo Beijun’s hands were still resting firmly on his waist. 

“Good morning to you, too,” Luo Binghe greeted. “Xin Mo 2 is done.”

“Xin Mo 2…” Shang Qinghua muttered, a look of disbelief crossing his features. “Okay, okay let me get dressed and we can discuss what to do next.”

Not long later, Luo Binghe sat with Mo Beijun at Shang Qinghua’s low tea table where he served them fresh tea and snacks. Xin Mo 2 laid across the table, it’s blade an obsidian black, a pale, green jade was mounted in the hilt.

“Interesting touch,” Shang Qinghua noted. 

Luo Binghe nodded. “For Shizun.”

“We should test to see if we can reach him in the first place. Have you tried opening a portal yet?” Shang Qinghua asked.

“How do you think I got here?”

“Ah, makes sense. Okay, and you’ve checked Luo Bingge’s realm?”

Luo Binghe nodded darkly. “Get on with it, what else can I do?”

“Since it might be such a far reach, you might not be able to reach him. Here, I thought we could use this to help. Mo Beijun brought this back from the demon realm we might at least be able to use this to catch a glimpse of where he may be at before you go jumping into any portals.” Shang Qinghua stood and bustled to the back of his house, emerging a moment later with a large, smooth obsidian disk. It was about the size of the tabletop, the surface polished to a glossy reflection where even after he cleared off the table and placed it in the middle, his fingerprints dissolved on the surface before their eyes. It didn’t radiate malicious energy as most things from the demon realm would, but a sort of calming threat as if it can strike if striked first. 

“Luo Binghe, can you slash the surface with, uh, Xin Mo 2?” He asked him. 

Luo Binghe nodded and stood. In one fluid movement, he drew his sword, cut the starless surface, and sheathed it. 

The slash in the middle where it was precisely cut seemed to suck in light, the polish surface that had their faces reflected around a moment ago swallowed by the expanding black hole until they were looking down a dark hole carved through the wooden table. They leaned forward, breaths held to catch a glimpse, a sound, of anything. 

After a moment of nothing, Shang Qinghua piped up. “You focused on Shen Qingqiu specifically, right?” 

“What else would I be thinking of?” It’s not like he could have anything on his mind but Shen Qingqiu. 

“I have another hypothesis,” Shang Qinghua stood. “Try again, but let me hold the sword, too.” 

Luo Binghe grasper the hilt and pulled it away from Shang Qinghua’s outstretched hand. “No.” 

“Do you have any ideas?” Shang Qinghua snapped, a moment of boldness. There was a tilt to his tone, an unfamiliar accent Luo Binghe here crop up when Shang Qinghua thought he was out of earshot with Shen Qingqiu. “I don’t like this either but… ah, I really hope I’m wrong, please Binghe let me try just once?” 

He kind of didn’t want Shang Qinghua’s hands anywhere near him or his sword, but he pushed that away and hesitantly held out Xin Mo 2. For Shizun, he told himself. Shang Qinghua’s clammy hand wrapped around his and together they raised the sword and slashed the obsidian mirror.

Like the first time, a black void spread across the surface, but then there were blinding lines of green accompanied by a high pitched, repetitive noise. Shang Qinghua next to him choked on a gasp, a barely heard “oh fuck.” muttered under his breath.

“How did you do that?” Luo Binghe asked. “Why were you able to open a portal to him, and yet I, his own husband, wasn’t?”

Shang Qinghua didn’t answer right away, his eyes glazed over, a similar look She Qingqiu would have sometimes. Mo Beijun watched Luo Binghe and Shang Qinghua with sharp eyes, not caring for the mirror at all. It took a moment before Shang Qinghua responded, blinking himself back down to the present.

“How do I start- uh, I guess with the most obvious, no use tiptoeing around it anymore,” Shang Qingqiu straightened up, his eyes focused on the trailing green lines. “Shen Qinqiu and I transmigrated into this world together. I was hoping my assumptions were incorrect because as being the creator of this world I could come up with a way to get him back, but by the looks of it he was pulled back to where we came from. I have no jurisdiction over there.”

No one spoke, the repetitive noise from the mirror echoed in the chamber. 

Surprisingly, Mo Beijun broke the silence first. “Are you a god?”

“Oh my god no, no? Uh, well, yes maybe?” Shang Qinghua was flustered. “I’m a writer back in our realm. This is a story I wrote to pay the bills. I… I died due to unforeseeable circumstances and transmigrated into this world a long time ago at the beginnings of Shang Qinghua’s life. Cucumber bro was a devoted reader who also passed away, a heart thing or whatever. Remember back, what was it, I think twelve, thirteen years ago? When Shen Qingqiu suffered from qi deviation and was changed, losing his memories and his nasty personality?”

Luo Binghe’s heart pounded in his chest, trying to absorb this new knowledge as calmly as he could. This person, this not-Shizun who is Shizun but there hasn’t been a Shizun in many years is the one he’s so thankful for. 

Shang Qinghua continued. “This realm’s Shen Qingqiu passed away and as Cucumber bro died cursing my novel, his soul was plopped into his body and told to fix the story if he thinks it’s so terrible.” He turned to Luo Binghe, his accent tilting once again to something he used privately with Shen Qingqiu. “The Luo Bingge you met who tried to take Cucumber bro, that’s the original Luo Binghe I wrote. All because Cucumber bro swore to hug your thigh and treat you better, the whole course of the story changed from my daring stallion novel to this BL. Isn’t that crazy? So many people are alive now all because Cucumber bro took the reigns of this story and changed it for the better.

“Aaah, I originally wanted to write a BL, but it’s not what my readers wanted!” He flopped back down to the ground with a sigh, the harsh green light emanating from the obsidian mirror throwing shadows across his face. “I needed money, I hope you understand but seeing the original scum villain making the protagonist fall in love with him, even I didn’t see that coming!”

“Protagonist?” Luo Binghe finally spoke up. “Scum villain?”

“Yes, you.” He pointed up to Luo Binghe’s looming figure. “You’re the ultimate protagonist! And now Cucumber bro went and made you gay on accident. I’m not terribly mad, but there’s still so much fanservice we’re missing out on!”

“Why did you write such a shitty protagonist the first time around?” The thought of Luo Bingge being his original counterpart made him sick to his stomach.

Shang Qinghua gasped, clutching his chest. “I’ll have you know that despite hating the work as a whole your husband adored the protagonist!”

At that moment the high pitched sound stopped and the green light faded, putting their conversation to a halt. They all leaned forward with their heads crowded around the obsidian mirror as the green lights fizzled away and replaced by a dark room. 

Luo Binghe held his breath afraid it might shatter the surface. The room was barely lit, shrouded dark except for lines of pale light striping the edge of the bed and floor. Everything looked weird, too square and smooth. There was a person on the bed, curled up improperly with an arm thrown up, a pale hand knocked against the headboard and a tuft of dark hair were the only things visible. 

“Your world is ugly,” Luo Binghe noted, examining what he could see of the smooth walls with glossy portraits hanging from them, the simple furniture all had items he couldn’t figure out what was for. Clothes, at least he assumed so, were spilling out of a basket in the corner and draped across a chair, piled at the foot of the bed, even on the bed. This is most certainly his Shizun’s room, and that must be Shizun asleep. 

“Our world is practical, now hush let’s see if he’s gonna wake up,” Shang Qinghua said. As if roused by them, the figure in the bed shifted, rolled over and stretched. He reached over and grappled something on the side table, a smooth, black item that was rectangular and sleek like the obsidian mirror and brought it under the blankets with him.

“A scrying mirror?” He asked.

“Not quite,” said Shang Qinghua

They watched as the figure shifted again and pulled himself up. This man was not Shen Qingqiu, his face too slender and his cheeks too low, the brows and nose broader and his lower lip was fuller to an almost natural pout, but Luo Binghe suddenly recognized those features as to that of the Dew Seed body Shen Qingqiu hid himself in, the features on that one only a 40% match to his body but the other 60% was unmistakably this. 

The difference was the short hair. It made Luo Binghe want to weep, especially how it stuck up flat on one side and was a tangled mess on the other. The not Shizun, yawned widely, uncaring for his posture as he slouched down and rubbed his eyes and face hard to wake himself up more. The clothes he wore were unusual, the sleeves short, only reaching to his elbows, and there was no tie to indicate how he got in it. 

Not Shizun rolled himself out of the bed, shuffling papers and books that were tucked in the folds of the blankets into a pile and stood with a stretch. Luo Binghe choked and pushed Mo Beijun, turning to Shang Qinghua to do the same but he already had his eyes closed and turned away with a shout of “I’m not looking!” Not Shizun didn’t have anything on his legs! His legs were completely bare, save for the little piece of garment hanging from his hips that barely passed the tops of his thighs. Luo Binghe wanted to cover his eyes for Shizun’s privacy, but also he couldn’t help take in the figure

Shen Qingqiu was slender like a steel-blade, but this Not Shizun (he will never call him Cucumber bro) was paper-thin as if the slightest breeze would send him tumbling. The ends of his hair barely traced his nape and his skin was pale to the point it was almost sickly. Not Shizun leaned over the side table again and put a weird contraption on his face, blinking blurrily into the clear glass and stumbled out the room, most likely to freshen up.

“I think,” Shang Qinghua started. “We were able to locate him only because I have a link to this world too.” He didn’t meet anyone’s eyes through his whole explanation, his gaze firmly fixed on the shapes of the furniture, a melancholic notes to his words. “You should be able to just jump right in and get him back but how will you do that?”

“What do you mean?”

“He has two bodies and one soul,” Shang Qinghua pointed out. “He can’t easily leave his current body without dying again, and Shen Qingqiu is only preserved due to you dutifully replenishing him with spiritual energy. How will you get him back? And consider this.” Shang Qinghua straightened up, an unusually sharp look in his eye. “Will he want to? This is how he lived, everything he knew, until a little over ten years ago he suddenly died and was thrown into a whole other culture and told to survive. He lost his friends and family, everything he worked at and was blessedly given another chance of life but not his life. Now he’s back somehow and he’s clearly making strives to live life to his fullest. Look.” 

He pointed to the mirror and Not Shizun was back pulling on clothes that covered his legs and arms, but they were so form-fitting they left nothing to the imagination! His socks barely covered his feet and he watched him roll up the leg of his pants a little, revealing tantalizing ankles. The papers and books he had piled up at the foot of his bed were put into a strange bag and with a strange sound, he sealed it shut, tucking the obsidian rectangle into a pocket at his side. His hair was smoothed down (except when he turned, there was a stubborn cowlick on the back of his head), his face flushed with wakefulness, and he left the room.

“I’ll… we can figure it out once I see him.” There was a moment of silence, the sounds of Not Shizun moving around in another room. “I need to see him at least and if he doesn’t…” he couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence.

There was a loud clacking sound from Not Shizun’s end followed by the deafening sound of a door shutting, muted clicks concluded his exit. 

“I’m heading over.” With a solid location finally set, trying to hold back his hands from quivering, he raised Xin Mo 2 and slashed open another portal, one that will link to the little, messy bedroom viewed in the obsidian mirror. The image in the mirror dissolved without Xin Mo 2’s energy directed into it.

“Wait!” Shang Qinghua stopped him. “Promise me you won’t leave the room until Cucumber bro comes back! Don’t go running after him you might cause a scene just- just wait there in the bedroom until he returns.”

Luo Binghe harumphed and stuck his foot through the portal. “No promises,” he said and lept through.

---

The room was cool, cluttered with unfamiliar items yet done familiarly, like when Luo Binghe first moved into the bamboo house and found out despite his immortal exterior, his Shizun was a mess. 

At first, he politely sat by the bed on his knees facing the door, ready to greet his Not Shizun the moment he came home. He watched the light grow brighter through the weird window covers, strips of white that only allowed light in like prison bars. The golden lines moved across the bed, a hum came from outside the window, people moving around above him, below, to the sides. 

Curiosity finally got the better of him and he stood to explore the room. Everything was blocky, made of strangely smooth, cool material that wasn’t wood sometimes but lighter, sometimes hollow. The weird white bars on the windows could wiggle. He peeked outside and was met with a textured wall, down below was a grey ground framed with sparse grass between the narrow alley. He turned to further explore the room.

Everything was strange. Books bound in hard casings lined the towering bookshelf, stacked on the floor and dresser. God statues and portraits hung on the walls in vibrant, glossy colors. Clear cups with gunks of something stuck to its sides made Luo Binghe’s nose twitch.

The room was strangely stuffy, outside sounds muted by the hard walls and floors. There was an uncomfortable itch to his neck. Guilt ate at him for snooping around his Shizun’s room and he quickly shuffled back to his spot and knelt on the weirdly soft ground, back straight as a blade and eyes trained on the door with a guard dog concentration.

---

The sun trailed across the room, a peak of a muted blue sky from the pains of glass was the only sense of time he could gather. He could wait, he waited for three years, he waited for five more, and after finally- finally - receiving his Shizun’s affections, he had to wait another year. Determination was the only thing leaving him from straying too far into an aimless wander, but it was still an aimless path he carved himself. Now here the aimlessness was coming to an end and all he had to do was be patient, very patient. 

Luo Binghe was a generally neat person and his Shizun was not, but here it felt like he had given up on even trying to keep anything somewhat orderly. It’s fine, it’s one of Shen Qingqiu’s cute traits that only he has the pleasure of knowing about, but a mess like this with the undertone of something rotting in the air mixed with dust and dirty clothes, he couldn’t take it. After sitting diligently on his knees for a few incense sticks time he sprung to his feet and started a mad dash to clean. He easily found the source of the rotting smells (a bowl of something with green fuzz starting to stick to the bottom, a cup with a handle with black stains on the bottom and rim, and a few crushed metal cylinders that read it was energy drink on the sides) and didn’t hesitate to throw them in the can by the door with more trash in it. He gathered all the clothes on the bed and set to sorting out the clean from the dirty based on smell (and if he stuck his nose into a soft coat to take a really good sniff of this new smell he could associate his shizun with, who would know but him?), and gathered the remaining books and stray papers back onto the bookshelf.

It was in the middle of neatly cramming the clean clothes in the wardrobe did he here the distinctive click from the doors opening. He froze, wanting to run out and greet the Not Shizun and yet unsure if the rule applied to him staying in the bedroom only or the entire house. Not wanting to cross any lines and realizing he wasn’t done, he quickly went back to trying to put away the rest of the clothes, dumping the dirty remnants into the wicker basket already packed full. He rolled to the ground and started picking up anything he could, accidentally bumping into the bookcase and one of his god statues came tumbling down. With a suppressed curse on his lips, he brushed her off and gently placed her back up, along with the snapped off arm and did a quick prayer for forgiveness. 

He bodily slid back to the ground to his knees by the bed facing the door, trying to adjust his robes to make him look less disheveled. Quiet footsteps were approaching the door slowly, his Shizun was back! He’s almost here! He gripped his clammy hands to his pants in anticipation almost vibrating on the spot. 

A sudden clatter and painful, hollow-sounding thunk echoed outside the door instead. Panicked, Luo Binghe lurched to his feet and in two long strides opened the door to find-

The Not-Shizun from the obsidian mirror, sitting upon the ground, one hand holding some weird contraption and the other held up on the narrow wall. The weird lenses he wore had slid down the bridge of his nose to reveal his wide, frightened eyes and his hair was tousled much more than when he’d originally left. With a shaking hand, he pushed it back up to his eyes and the fright turned to shock.

“Binghe?!”