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It is cold when Liu Qingge arrives at Qing Jing Peak, the air crisp and nipping at his ears while his breath spirals out in front of him. Here it isn’t snowing anymore, but there is a thin layer of frost still covering the blades of the bamboo leaves and the grass underfoot as he makes his way up a now familiar path.
It was snowing at the foot of the mountains when he fought the beast terrorizing the outskirts of one of Cang Qiong’s nearby cities, a six-foot-tall white Qiongqi with a magnificent winter coat, now resting in the sack upon his back. It will not be threatening civilians any longer. Once Shen Qingqiu is done studying it and cataloguing the details for his bestiary, the teeth can be removed and handed over to Mu Qingfang to be repurposed according to whatever medicinal value they hold.
There was a time when Liu Qingge would have relished each opportunity for battle, leaving the mountain sect for weeks on end in search of worthy opponents against which to test his skills. He still enjoys the fight and the challenge, the thrill of cutting down strong enemies and prey, but there are things now which make him reluctant to be away for longer than necessary, and eager to return. Liu Qingge sets the sack down by his feet, sensing the approach of a fast-moving object, and moves in time to catch it as the door to Shen Qingqiu’s bamboo house is flung open and the reason for his swift return to Cang Qiong barrels into his arms, small but full of life.
“Father! You’re back!”
The beam from Liu Yanyan’s bright face is enough to cause warmth to immediately blossom through his chest, the cold at once forgotten as Liu Qingge adjusts his hold on his three-year-old daughter, feather-light compared to the dead weight of the beast from earlier.
Before he can respond, Yanyan is already turning her attention to the sack more than thrice her size, eyes wide. “Is that the monster? You brought it back?”
“Mm,” Liu Qingge makes an affirmative sound, feeling a smile tug at the corners of his mouth as her eyes brighten further still and she begins scrambling down to investigate.
“Can I see?”
Liu Qingge doesn’t know the first thing about raising children. In all fairness, Shen Qingqiu is no more learned in the matter than he is. For two amateurs bravely taking on the result of a poisoning incident which left them temporarily unable to inhibit their heats with cultivation, however, Liu Qingge supposes they aren’t doing too terribly. If Yanyan is full of smiles and laughter whenever she sees him, if Shen Qingqiu, for all his doting tendencies, hasn’t yet spoiled her rotten, if their daughter is happy and healthy and knows to listen to them when it matters most, then they must be doing some things right, at least.
“Yan-er,” comes Shen Qingqiu’s voice as if on cue, chiding but ever fond. “Let your father come into the house before you freeze us all to death.”
Liu Qingge looks up to see his husband arrive at the doorway and receives a warm smile in greeting. Shen Qingqiu then turns an appraising eye to where Yanyan is about to peer into the sack, and Liu Qingge says, “Most of the blood froze over before I wrapped it up.”
“Well, then I suppose the dead beast can come in too.”
“Yanyan will help!” Delighted and eager, Yanyan gathers the mouth of the bag closed with both small hands, and attempts to haul its gargantuan weight behind her and into the house. An exchange of glances with Shen Qingqiu confirms that neither of them has the heart to stop her from the impossible task, so Liu Qingge humors her efforts by grabbing the other end of the sack with one hand, lifting it once more above ground while a huff of fond laughter escapes him.
“No injuries?” Shen Qingqiu asks him once they are inside with the door closed and the carcass safely deposited in the corner, Yanyan trying to open the sack to resume her investigative pursuits.
“Just a scratch.” Liu Qingge takes off his coat and outer robe to settle at the low table, where Shen Qingqiu has a book and some scrolls spread open. He doesn’t need to look at his arm to know that the gashes attained from the Qiongqi’s claws when he rolled to dodge both its attack and a falling tree he and his opponent had toppled in battle have already mostly healed thanks to his qi , but he lets Shen Qingqiu examine the damage and bring out the appropriate ointments for treatment anyway.
Wounds and poisons of this sort aren’t usually much concern for cultivators at their level, and rarely require the expertise or specialized concoctions of masters like Mu Qingfang, though even if it had been more serious, Liu Qingge knows he would still have chosen to come straight back to Shen Qingqiu first, poison and risk of infection be damned.
“No flare-ups?” Liu Qingge returns the question while Shen Qingqiu makes quick work of his wound with warm water and a cloth, spreading a sharp-smelling herbal paste over his skin. He circulates more of his own qi to the affected area to help the absorption along, already reacting more out of habit than thought.
Dual cultivation reliably keeps the effects of the Without A Cure poison in Shen Qingqiu’s veins at bay, though with Yanyan growing more active and inquisitive with age, and between both their peak lord duties, moments they have been able to truly claim for themselves have been few of late. Liu Qingge isn’t complaining, not when they have years of an immortal lifetime ahead of them, and still spends his evenings over tea or before bed regularly clearing Shen Qingqiu’s meridians, as he has always done. But Without A Cure is a fickle thing, prone to act up when least expected despite consistent and thorough cleansing, and Mu Qingfang isn’t wrong about dual cultivation still being the strongest, most effective treatment against it. As is the case with many poisons, it seems - and so it is hard not to be just a little concerned about Shen Qingqiu getting into a difficult or dangerous situation and having to deal with unexpected qi blockages whenever he is away for some time.
“You’ve been gone for all of two days.” The note of laughter is apparent in Shen Qingqiu’s voice. He finishes bandaging Liu Qingge’s arm and gives him a light smack on the shoulder - not hard enough that Liu Qingge’s wound makes any sort of protest. “What does shidi believe this husband would get up to in such a short amount of time, that would put me in danger if Without A Cure makes a reappearance, hm?”
Oh. He knows when he is being teased. “...Just making sure,” Liu Qingge grouses back.
They are interrupted by an exclamation of awe from Yanyan, who has pulled back enough of the sack to reveal the beast’s head and a set of ferocious, gleaming fangs. Liu Qingge has attended enough rounds of the Immortal Alliance Conference as both participant and observer to know that the sight would still be sufficient to make an average cultivator-in-training flinch - to say nothing of a young child. But then, most monsters are presumably less frightening once dead, and Yanyan is Shen Qingqiu’s daughter after all - and his, entirely unfazed as she crouches down to peer in fascination at the teeth of his kill.
“They’re huge!”
Liu Qingge feels the corners of his lips turn up in a smile. Shen Qingqiu smiles too, rising and heading over for a closer look himself after putting the ointments aside and setting a hot cup of tea down in front of Liu Qingge. Liu Qingge likes it best when he sees him like this - unconcerned with maintaining any sort of aloof or dignified image in front of others, content to give in to his own curiosity and wear his emotions freely because here, they are at home.
“Indeed, those are some gigantic teeth,” Shen Qingqiu agrees, his gaze moving in approval over the carcass. He looks up to catch Liu Qingge’s eye, still smiling. “Mu-shidi will be pleased.”
“I wanna fight a Qiongi with big teeth too!” Jumping up excitedly, Yanyan runs to pick up her wooden practice sword from the other side of the room, dead beast all but forgotten as she charges at her new target, not quite as large but very much alive by comparison.
She is very fast, Liu Qingge will give her that - and also very reckless in her eagerness, both traits which he recognizes in himself. Because of this, however, he needs only one hand and not even a glance to parry her incoming strike from the side, fending her off easily while his other hand lowers the teacup from his mouth and puts it back down on the table.
Laughing, Shen Qingqiu makes his way back to where he was seated next to him, and Liu Qingge turns to give his tiny opponent his full attention. She has already recollected herself, lunging at him again with a small, sharp yell of concentration. Liu Qingge shifts to avoid her neatly, still without rising from his seat, and moves just a little faster to catch her by the shoulder. Yanyan yelps, a half-squeal and a giggle spilling out of her as he pins her to the ground with the same, single hand, exerting just enough pressure to keep her there in a gentler imitation of how a beast might use its paw.
Undeterred, she brings up her knees, planting her feet firmly on the ground before she hits at his offending forearm with her sword, lifting her waist and digging in with her heels in an attempt to flip herself back up against his grip using both momentum and force.
Amused and impressed, Liu Qingge relaxes his hold so that she succeeds. He is made to immediately reconsider this decision when Yanyan then throws herself high up onto his back with a battle cry, anchoring herself with both hands on either end of the sword that she manages to bring in front and against his neck when he dips slightly forward to accommodate her pounce.
He catches a glance at Shen Qingqiu across the table and sees him watching them with his eyes bright and brimming with barely-contained laughter.
Well, Liu Qingge is enjoying himself too, and it’s not like he needs Shen Qingqiu to intervene to get him out of his current predicament.
Before Yanyan can press her sword any further against his throat, he tips himself backwards, taking her down with him to the floor - not enough to actually put much of his weight on her as he falls, but enough to make her squeak, scrambling to maintain her hold when he rolls onto his front immediately after. He seizes her the moment he feels her sliding off from him, hoisting her into the air above him as he rolls again onto his back, unable to keep the fondness from his face at her resulting peal of laughter.
He doesn’t mock growl the way Shen Qingqiu would whenever he also plays this role because it makes him feel silly to try and mimic the monsters he so frequently fights - but Liu Qingge still pulls her small form towards him to bury his face and a smile into her stomach, nipping at her through her clothing in place of a monster bite. His reward is another burst of giggles as Yanyan thumps his head in both delight and protest, and Liu Qingge sits back up with his captive cradled in his arms, victorious.
“Not fair,” Yanyan protests up at him, though she has stopped struggling and is still giggling, ruddy-faced and out of breath. “Father tricked me! And you’re big and heavy, Yanyan can’t hold on if you fwoomp! like that.”
He could explain how it was simply to counter her act of jumping onto his back and attacking from behind (an excellent move to level the playing field, really, one which she must have done on instinct and that he couldn’t be prouder of) - but Liu Qingge isn’t going to pretend to understand her three-year-old logic. There also isn’t a single disciple he knows of - at least not from his peak - who would dare complain about a fight being unfair, given how Bai Zhan’s best tend to have learned more from surviving flat-out brawls as opposed to proper sparring sessions - and he could bring that up too.
Instead, what comes out of his mouth, as gently as he can put it, is, “Monsters and beasts don’t play by human rules.”
“Why not?” Comes her response almost immediately, quizzical and purely curious, as he’s learning most children are during this stage of their growth.
...Oh. Liu Qingge doesn’t quite know how to answer that, and looks to Shen Qingqiu for help.
“Well..." The question seems to give Shen Qingqiu some pause, too, as he moves a muscle in his jaw and then beckons, patting the space beside him on the floor. Liu Qingge lets Yanyan climb off his lap, and she settles herself obediently by Shen Qingqiu’s side so he can start undoing her half-buns and combing his fingers through her hair to neaten everything that came loose during their earlier tumble. “...Most monsters are just trying to survive. Demons, too. If you were attacked and cornered by a fierce little cultivator like yourself, you’d do everything you can to try and save yourself too, wouldn’t you?”
Yanyan nods, slowly, while Shen Qingqiu works a section of her hair into a braid. “But then why do they attack us?”
“Because they... have different ways of doing things. They think differently. They might want or need things that are different from what you want, and what I want.” Shen Qingqiu puts the braid into a loop, securing it at the side of her head, and moves to do the same to the other side of her hair. “Being different isn’t bad. But sometimes, it means we have to hunt a monster down because its horns or its teeth or its blood are the only things we can use to cure a poison.” He ties off the second braid. “And sometimes, it means the monsters are going to try and have some people for lunch - because we are the only things around or nearby that they can eat.”
Having completed both loops, Shen Qingqiu brushes a hand through the last few tangles in the remainder of the loose hair at Yanyan’s neck, then sits back with a pleased look at his handiwork. “...And that is why we send people like your father to deal with them when there are problems like that.”
Liu Qingge doesn’t think he would be able to come up with an explanation as neat and sensible as that. It’s one of the things he admires about Shen Qingqiu - he has a way with words that Liu Qingge does not, and sure enough Yanyan nods, satisfied with the answer and her attention already shifting elsewhere as she hops up to retrieve the wooden sword left lying next to Liu Qingge.
“I want to go too! I’ll help!”
“You will. Someday,” Liu Qingge promises her with a smile, and Yanyan tugs eagerly at his sleeve with one hand, the other gripping her sword.
“Auntie Mingyan came and taught me a new sword form when you were gone. I’ll show you!”
“After you finish your recitations,” Shen Qingqiu cuts in, gentle but admonishing, before Liu Qingge has the chance to nod or answer. “Father is back so quickly because he hasn’t stopped even once to rest. Let him settle, then you can practice. Besides, too much jumping around right after lunch will give you an upset stomach - remember?”
It’s tempting to point out how at their stage of core formation, neither he nor Shen Qingqiu really needs the rest Shen Qingqiu is talking about - but Liu Qingge isn’t going to argue with the second bit, much as he does want to see what Yanyan has learned from his sister in his absence.
“Listen to your mother.”
A small sigh, and a sullen little “En,” as Yanyan’s face briefly shifts into a pout, but she puts down the sword and returns to her own seat by the table without further protest. With a breath and closed eyes, she begins reciting a simple poem about toadstools sprouting in the shade, something Shen Qingqiu must have been in the middle of teaching her before his return.
Liu Qingge is no expert in the fine arts Qing Jing Peak specializes in, but it is at least easy to tell when she is taking it seriously, her words as clear as they can be for a child at her age, and Shen Qingqiu smiles in approval as he too turns his attention back to the pages of the book spread before him, listening as he reads. He picks up and opens his fan, waving it idly in front of himself in time to the rhythm of Yanyan’s poem - a habit of his that lasts even through the winter months - and as Liu Qingge closes his eyes briefly around another sip of tea, Shen Qingqiu curls his free hand into the crook of Liu Qingge’s arm, leaning in closer and subtly resting his weight against him while he continues to read. It’s his own silent way of saying he is glad Liu Qingge is home, no matter the risk level of the mission, and Liu Qingge feels his chest fill with contentment and something else, comforting and very soft.
It is still cold outside when Liu Qingge arrives back at Qing Jing Peak. But here, with Yanyan’s bright voice and Shen Qingqiu relaxed against him, it is as warm as it will ever be.