gently in the cold dark earth
scum villain's self saving system
word count: 2k
canon divergent / no system au; sy transmigrates into an empty npc role; gray lotus binghe loves his shixiong more than life and he's ready to make it everyone's problem
title borrowed from work song by hozier
read on ao3
x
The first thing Luo Binghe does when he escapes the Abyss is return to Cang Qiong Mountain.
With Xin Mo secured to his back, the way could be instant if he so chose—the journey of a thousand miles reduced to a single step—but he unsheathes the elegant jian at his hip instead.
Yong Liang sings sweetly for him, the snow white blade still shining and untainted even after years of helping Luo Binghe carve his way through hell. It has never once failed him, soulbound to the one person still on this earth who has never failed him.
“Take it,” his shixiong insisted, low and urgent. The Abyss was behind them, an even deadlier threat was ahead, and Without A Cure clogging his meridians made Luo Binghe the best choice to wield the only unshattered spirit sword they had between them. “Binghe, take it.”
He pressed until Luo Binghe’s grip curled tight around the hilt, not hesitating to put his soul in Luo Binghe’s hands even with the rosy glow of an unsealed demon mark shining on his face.
Luo Binghe flies at a pace best described as dangerously reckless, hardly smelling the fragrant spring air or feeling the sun on his face. His robes are a disgrace, his hair a tangled, matted mess, and it occurs to him that he could stop somewhere and clean himself up, make himself presentable, but it’s a brief, fleeting thought.
Shen Yuan would be furious to find out that Luo Binghe wasted even a single second returning to his side.
——
He passes through the ancient wards effortlessly, feeling them fall away from him like water. It’s a simple thing to tamp down on his demonic qi, to disguise the parts of him that those so-called righteous cultivators would scorn. He ghosts through the familiar grounds as eagerly as a starving animal bolting down a fresh game trail, but one by one, all of their familiar haunts come up empty, without even a lingering trace of Shen Yuan’s spiritual energy left behind.
The head disciple’s room is dusted and undisturbed, as if its occupant might walk through the door at any moment, but the lack of clutter and the empty book shelf makes it very clear to Luo Binghe what the truth must be.
If Shen Yuan returned to the peak after the Conference, he didn’t stay.
All at once, images crowd the front of his mind—his shixiong grieving, pulling away, turning his back on those responsible for his heartache.
Yue Qingyuan, always only a step behind wherever his precious Xiu Ya sword went, promised that no one wanted to hurt them. They only wanted to help.
He looked so solemn and righteous that Shen Yuan reluctantly allowed himself to be convinced. Luo Binghe, who had gone to the man for help after a bloody whipping when he was a child, only to be given a walnut cake and turned away at the door, knew better.
He wasn’t surprised when Shen Yuan was wrenched away from him, and shizun sent him staggering off the cliff with a spiritual dagger buried to the hilt in his chest, all of it happening within a matter of seconds—but it still hurt.
Shen Yuan’s scream followed him all the way down.
I’m alive, Luo Binghe thinks, with no one there to tell it to. I came back to you. Let me come back to you.
——
Including time spent in the abyss, it’s three years before they meet again.
Luo Binghe’s revenge is his second priority at best, but he is nothing if not efficient and knows how to kill two birds with the same stone. Huan Hua affords him ample resources and opportunities to scour the world for his missing shixiong while playing the role of earnest and diligent new disciple. He snatches up each mission that comes along as though eager to prove his worth to the sect that so graciously took him in, but he takes every excuse to wander, to search, to make conversation with vendors and innkeepers and passing strangers.
Have you seen my heart? It lives outside of me in the form of a beautiful young man and tends to wander. Very contrary, likes to fuss over people, could argue the stripes off a lushu just for fun. You’d know it if you met it. You’d never forget.
The days blur together, meaningless and gray, but he doesn’t stop looking. Shen Yuan still exists somewhere in this world, because otherwise Luo Binghe wouldn’t. It’s the only thing that makes sense. The alternative doesn’t bear thinking about.
And then, finally—an afternoon in Jinlan City, when Luo Binghe arrives in a throng of incompetent gold-clad Huan Hua disciples, to investigate a plague of all things—
He’s there.
In dark, neutral colors and plain clothes, a traveling cloak with its hood resting down around his shoulders, as if his beauty could possibly be lessened by cheap, shapeless fabrics rather than effortlessly enhanced. His hair falls from its half-tail in glorious waves—he never did have the patience for anything elaborate, only wearing braids when one of his sticky shidimei cajoled and convinced him. Traveling alone, who could he possibly have to roll his eyes at and complain about and sit patiently still for?
A pale green ribbon is all that decorates his hair. Luo Binghe recognizes it instantly.
“You should spend your allowance on yourself, Binghe,” Shen Yuan scolded him, not for the first time and certainly not for the last.
“But I did,” Luo Binghe protested, widening his eyes and clasping his hands earnestly, the way he knew worked best. “I wanted it! And now that I have it, I want to give it to you.”
Shen Yuan was too clever by half to be truly fooled by the innocent act, but he always folded like paper anyway. He spoiled all of his shidimei but Luo Binghe most of all. Anyone on Qing Jing Peak would be hard-pressed to think of a single example of Shen Yuan telling Luo Binghe ‘no.’
Sure enough, after a second spent visibly wrestling with himself, he blurted, “Oh, fine! Hand it over.”
He wore it every day since. He’s wearing it now. The wind catches the ends of it, sending it streaming behind him like the tails of a paradise flycatcher. Lovely.
For a brief moment, Luo Binghe is frozen where he stands, finally faced with the very thing that he’s been missing for years, that he’s been living a miserable half-life without.
And then he remembers himself and lurches forward. His voice is a tangle in his throat but he manages to choke out, “Shixiong!”
A strike of lightning couldn’t have jolted Shen Yuan into more perfect stillness. He stops mid-step, every inch of him as good as carved from precious jade. He doesn’t turn his head, and the sliver of his face visible from where Luo Binghe stands is very pale.
Luo Binghe wonders suddenly if this has happened to him before—if Shen Yuan has heard a voice on the road or in the market that was almost familiar, that was almost the one he was hoping for, only to be disappointed when he turned to follow it and found a stranger.
Luo Binghe shortens the distance between them with a few anxious steps and tries again.
“Shixiong.”
The older boy whirls around abruptly, as if to get it over with. He’s bracing himself, but Luo Binghe barely has a second to absorb Shen Yuan’s painful-looking anticipation before it bleeds out of his face in favor of something else entirely.
He looks like the earth has fallen out from beneath his feet, like he hardly dares to believe his eyes. Zheng Yang gleams golden at Shen Yuan’s hip, reforged and whole again.
“Binghe?”
“It’s me,” Luo Binghe says softly.
There’s a tableau he’s afraid to break, as if they’re in a delicate dreamscape and a move too sudden or loud might dissolve it. He wants to say I’ve missed you the way lungs miss air, immediately and needfully, I haven’t breathed at all since we’ve been apart. He wants to say you’re my light in the dark, I can only stand in front of you now because I love you too much to ever truly leave you.
Instead, he tells his dearest friend, “This one made you wait. But your Binghe is here.”
Shen Yuan sprints the rest of the way to meet him, almost before he’s even finished talking, and they collide in a solid embrace that knocks the air from them both.
His arms wind around Luo Binghe’s waist like steel bands, fingers digging into the back of his robes, precious face pressed into the crook of his neck and shoulder. Luo Binghe doesn’t hesitate to gather him up close, holding him as tightly and securely as he knows how, burying his nose in his shixiong’s hair and breathing in the familiar, beloved smell of him.
Shen Yuan is a few inches shorter than he remembers. All the better to tuck him beneath Luo Binghe’s chin, to cover and surround him so completely that not even the heavens above can get a decent eyeful.
He wants to grab and bite and pin Shen Yuan beneath him and never let go. His jaw aches with wanting it.
“I’ve been looking for you,” Luo Binghe says, eyes wet. “I went home first.” Unsaid goes the obvious but you weren’t there.
“How could I stay?” Shen Yuan bites out, managing to sound all at once strangled and bewildered and—charmingly—offended. He shakes his head without lifting it, an aggressive nuzzle against Binghe’s shoulder. “After what they did to you, I’d rather die than represent their stupid sect another minute.”
“Step away from it, Shen Yuan,” shizun said coldly. “I’ll put that beast back where it belongs.”
“No,” shixiong said in a voice that was smaller than usual, one that shook. He was frightened, clearly overwhelmed, but he didn’t budge from where he was plastered in front of Luo Binghe like a breathing shield.
“Now.”
“No, shizun.”
“Shizhi,” Yue Qingyuan said gently, offering his hand. “Come here. It will be alright.”
Shen Yuan said, “No. You can’t hurt Binghe. He’s not bad just because of who his parents are. He’s as good as he was yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that. He’s hardworking and loyal and a sweetheart to anybody who gives him half a chance. He’s so good.”
Liu Qingge was behind the sect leader, sword drawn. Shen Qingqiu was quickly losing what little patience he had, face twisted into a sneer, dark eyes stabbing hatefully at Luo Binghe from over his head disciple’s shoulder. There were more figures rapidly drawing closer, the other peak lords following the flare of Yue Qingyuan’s qi. The standoff was becoming more and more untenable, and Shen Yuan was too smart not to see that, shrinking back against Luo Binghe as much as he could without crowding him closer to the edge.
“You can’t hurt him,” he said again, the closest Luo Binghe had ever heard him come to tears, “he’s my shidi.”
Luo Binghe is unsurprised by his shixiong’s loyalty, because it’s already been proven to him over and over. It’s unremarkable at this point, which is an absolutely remarkable thing in itself. It makes him feel warm with gratitude and affection and ownership.
Shen Yuan is clever and quick on his feet and always three steps ahead, more knowledgeable about flora and fauna than anyone else Binghe has ever known combined, and probably a force to be reckoned with as a rogue cultivator, where the only rules of conduct he has to adhere to are his own.
But Luo Binghe hates to think of him on the road alone, without the little martial siblings who follow him like ducklings, without his Binghe there to make sure he remembers to eat all his meals and comb out his hair before bed. He’s a creature of comfort, made for airy rooms with too many cushions and an abundance of sweets and books to read.
Luo Binghe has fantasized more than once about building a home for Shen Yuan to lounge prettily in. It was, in fact, his favorite flavor of daydream since he was about thirteen.
If Shen Yuan wants to rogue cultivate, then that’s what they’ll do. But Luo Binghe thinks, if he constructs a palace that’s as comfortable as it is grand, and fills it with trashy romance novels and obscure beasts and his own hand-made meals, he can convince his friend to live in it with him.
Shen Yuan needs to be taken care of. Luo Binghe needs to be the one taking care of him. They’re together now and they’ll never be apart again and those needs can both be met.
That possessive, proprietary feeling coils dark and deep inside him, undulating lazily like a serpent who’s fed enough for days, reminding him over and over what he already knows:
Mine.
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Reviews (summaries) of a few of the drama adaptations for [Legend of the Condor Heroes]/ 「射鵰英雄傳」 from the last three decades:
*Drama posters are from oldest to latest (from left to right, top to bottom)
1983 version (starring Barbara Yung and Felix Wong):
Too young to remember and never rewatched. A feted classic from Hong Kong TVB’s heyday. The only thing I will unequivocally say I love about this version is the iconic theme songs, which are the only musical tracks I can easily recall and identify when it comes to the numerous adaptations.
1994 version (starring Athena Chu and Julian Cheung):
First love. Good performances. Beautiful and ultra-cute JingRong. Favourite balance of visuals for JingRong. Solid production (HK TVB). Newish classic. Faithful to the main storylines. The version which made me fall for Guo Jing and the saga. Sometimes, however, first love only goes so far.
2003 version (starring Zhou Xun and Li Ya Peng):
Gritty. Jiang Hu. Sweeping epic. Mature vibes. Tragic and heartbreak-tinged. Faithful to the main storylines. Brilliant JingRong. Elegantly cultured Huang Rong. Earnestly chivalrous Guo Jing. Love both the portrayals of Guo Jing and Huang Rong (despite the many criticisms received). Loved the veteran gravitas of many of the supporting casts. Performances were fabulous. My only gripe is with Yang Kang (and his actor, Zhou Jie, whose performance I was not especially partial to, but he did okay though). The best Mongolian segment(s) out of all adaptations. Favourite drama adaptation (to date). The main and ending theme songs are fantastic, and the opening track has quite an epic saga feel.
(Some audience disliked ZX’s portrayal, and criticisms abound about her using her own voice during the show - which is a bit husky - but I had absolutely no issues with it. I thought the criticisms weirdly petty, actually. As someone who does not find dubs at all nice, I appreciated her using her own voice/dub for the series. LYP also received his fair share of criticisms for his portrayal. Personally, I enjoyed both tremendously).
2008 version (starring Ariel Lin and Hu Ge):
An adaptation I skipped as neither mains appealed to me, and Liu Shi Shi as Mu Nian Ci was not enough of a draw to make me trudge through an adaption I read was not particularly faithful to the novels. Visuals and vibes wise, I just could not see Hu Ge as Guo Jing - which is simply a personal preference - but I do not doubt that his performance/portrayal would have been fine. That goes for the rest of the cast and their performances.
2017 version (starring Li Yi Tong and Yang Xu Wen):
Pretty. Vibrant aesthetics. Wuxia vibes. Relatively youthful. Commendable production. Sweet, lovey-dovey and affectionate JingRong. Cutie - and handsome - Guo Jing. Excellent Huang Rong. Faithful to the main storylines. Highly enjoyable. Main instrumental track a clever nolstagic callback to the classic Hong Kong songs/themes. Good production. Superb performances overall.
(I found this version’s GJ a bit too prettily handsome, which is lovely but also felt a bit not-GJ. Still enjoyed his portrayal a lot though).
2024 version (starring Bao Shang En and Ci Sha):
Strong Wuxia vibes. Solid aesthetics and production. Youthful. Squee-worthy JingRong. Adorably devious Huang Rong. Favourite Guo Jing and JingRong (to date). Wonderful performances all around. Faithful to the main storylines. Some distinct emotional beats.
Especially noteworthy was the beautifully shot and conveyed scenes from near the end during GJ’s mental and spiritual struggles with his grief and martial abilities. Superbly done and went to the heart of the novel’s themes.
Flaws included pacing and issues with storylines length. Uneven focus. Lack of epic-ness.
(Ci Sha is not really my cup-of-tea visuals wise but he looked and felt like what Guo Jing *should* be and his performance was compelling and layered. His portrayal embodied the 靖 of 郭靖, and I think that meant something significant. He truly came into his own by the last third when the confidence and composure GJ cultivated throughout the series made his nuanced portrayal fangirl-scream worthy. *fainting away* Love his steady, gentle and devoted GJ to bits. The focus and complexity they afforded Yang Kang in this version made him a much more complex and conflicted antagonist, which was fascinating. This Wanyan Hong Lie inspired major feelings for a character I already found especially interesting and tragi-complex since the 2003 adaptation. The soft-spot I have for him is too real).
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