Chapter Text
Ming Fan barely remembered what happened before a hypnotic poison-spitting qi frog suddenly attacked him. No... He's lying. He remembers. He remembers well. That was the lie he told his shishu, his Shizun, everyone.
Ming Fan, the head disciple of Qing Jing Peak, had memory loss.
At least that's what he pretends is the case. But he remembers. He remembers all too well. He remembers shoving Luo Binghe, barating him, bullying him. He remembers well, and he doesn't try to reach out to the half demon. No... He is a boy, Ming Fan helped turn a simple candle into a forest fire.
For now, he keeps his distance. Thankfully, most of his lackeys are too busy worrying over him to bully the boy.
Goddamn, when did he grow a conscious? When did Shizun's orders matter less than saving just one kid... Maybe they always mattered less.
Maybe that was why Ming Fan was so quick to jump in front of him and slay the beast even if he got struck.
He felt so empty, so tired. He doesn't even have it in himself to feel horrified by Ning Yingying's words.
"He brought it to himself. It's karma. A-Luo don't feel bad."
It would've hurt more than his qi deviation, but he just... blew out. Smuthered like a dying flame.
Ming Fan was in recovery and avoiding the lackeys he had previously allowed gather around him. He was just walking in a secluded spot in the bamboo. Then he encountered a clearing.
And in that clearing was Luo Binghe, licking his wounds. The boy's eyes shot up at him like a startled animal. Ming Fan tilted his head, he couldn't find it in himself to connect this startled boy with that demon that pushed him into a pit of ants. Not yet at least.
"Shixiong..." Luo Binghe said cautiously, not use how to deal with his amnesiac shixiong. He looked different, his usually put together bun wasn't even done. Hair was was around his shoulders and his eyes looked not completely there.
"Mn." He nodded and looked him over, his eyes stopping at his wounds. Luo Binghe subconsciously hid his arms. He didn't want to be berated.
Ming Fan walked over to him and crouched down next to him. He put a hand out and Luo Binghe hesitated before leaving himself to his fate. He put his arm in the awaiting hand, not exactly sure what he was expecting. Ming Fan never got his hands dirty when harming him.
Instead of pain, Luo Binghe felt a cool salve be massaged into his cuts. He hesitated before looking at his shixiong, who was tending his wounds with that same absent look in his eyes.
He was quiet until Ming Fan finished and muttered "Other arm." Luo Binghe blinked and gave his other arm. His shixiong tended the wounds there too as Luo Binghe stared at him like he just barely met him.
Ming Fan finished and capped the salve he used. He gave the bottle to Luo Binghe along with a few extra bandages. He nodded while accepting them.
"I'm tired," Ming Fan muttered and got up, leaving through the path he was taking. Not another word spoken.
Luo Binghe finally breathed out. His hands clutched the salve and bandages. His heart beat just a little bit more stronger than before.
The next time Luo Binghe found his shixiong, he was napping under a cliff. Luo Binghe had fresh lashes on his back, they rubbed against his robes. Without thinking he walked over to his shixiong and sat down next to him.
Ming Fan opened his eyes and looked at him. His eyes zeroed in to the faint red staining the light green robes. He sat up and wordlessly raised a hand, asking if he could check.
Luo Binghe let him and Ming Fan once again tended to his wounds. He just let himself be pliant and refused to flinch as he felt calloused fingers graze his wounds.
Then it was finished and Ming Fan pat his shoulder. "Done," he said and then laid down on the grass again. Luo Binghe fixed his robes and looked at Ming Fan's quickly asleep form.
He laid down on his side, watching Ming Fan. His eyes on his shixiong's weirdly serene expression. Oh...
Luo Binghe smiled softly to himself. He liked this.
Ming Fan's hands were shaky and uncoordinated as he tried to write. He was attempting to get his calligraphy back to something okay, but his hands didn't want to work with him.
The lines were uneven and shaky. What a waste of ink. Children could write better. He tried again but his wrist aches painfully. He was about to ignore it when he heard a soft knock at his door.
"Come in," he said, hating how dead his voice sounded. Nothing. He heard shuffling then nothing.
Ming Fan stood up and walked to the door. He opened it and found a bowl of congee at his door. He picked it up and noticed a note. He unfolded it. He read the note. It read like a love note from a shy maiden.
He closed the door behind him and set the bowl down. He sent a quick pulse of qi on the note and no lingering qi was left on the note. That instantly knocked most of the peak off the potential suspects.
But from the handful he could think of, none of them would try to poison him... Probably.
So Ming Fan picked up the bowl of congee and tasted it. It was a shock to the system that the haze of apathy disapated for a split second before he swallowed the bite.
He breathed out. It been so long since he didn't feel so dead inside. Ming Fan took another bite, he hopes whoever this secret admirer was would give him more to eat. He didn't even care if it was laced with a love poison. He'd consider marrying such a good cook.
Ming Fan noticed the footsteps as he practiced his guqin. His hand eye coordination was improving somewhat so what he played actually sounded like music.
He paused his playing and got up. He opened the door as soon as he heard the bowl of whatever he was being fed next get set down on the floor.
There was Luo Binghe, clearly caught off guard. His shidi's face flushed red as he sputtered to explain himself, bowl clutched to his chest. Ming Fan simply looked at him, the rambling going in one ear out the other. Then he noticed the faint staining of oxidized blood. Ah, he was probably punished again.
"Come inside. Let's get your wounds treated," he said, moving to the side to let Luo Binghe in. The boy was still beet red as he walked inside. Ming Fan gestured for him to sit at the cushion he was previously sat at before closing the door.
Ming Fan crouched down next to Luo Binghe and rolled up his sleeves, now used to treating his martial sibling's wounds by now. He was done quickly and simply sat on the floor next Luo Binghe.
His shidi refused to look at him, but shyly handed him the bowl of food he had with him.
"Thank you," he said while receiving the bowl, the words strangely foreign on his tongue. "You're a good cook," he said calmly and started eating. It was a stew this time.
He didn't miss how Luo Binghe's shoulders tensed up. Ming Fan's eyes lingered on him for a while before he continued eating.
He was almost finished when he broke the silence again. "You usually leave a note. What was it this time?" He asked, giving his shidi some relief by not looking at him.
Luo Binghe fidgeted anxiously. "Shixiong... Isn't disgusted by this one's unfilial feelings?" He asked meekly.
Ming Fan should be disgusted. He would've mocked Luo Binghe relentlessly if he was confessed to before, but he just didn't have the energy or the willingness to even care.
"It's fine. Your prose is well executed," was all he said as he finished his bowl.
He looked at Luo Binghe. The boy was giving him a bright starry-eyed expression. Ming Fan felt his hand twitch and before really thinking about it, he ruffled his hair.
"It's late. Thank you for the meal. You should go to bed soon," he said calmly. Luo Binghe jolted and nodded. "Yes, this one will go now!" He said with a blush on his face.
Luo Binghe tried to scurry away before Ming Fan caught the back of his robes without trouble. His shidi squeaked and Ming Fan looked at him. It was a rather appealing startled expression.
He found himself letting out a sound of mild amusement, his lips curling in a smile.
"Shixiong?" Luo Binghe said weakly, as if scandalized. Like he wasn't the one leaving love notes and dinner for him.
"Stay. Sleeping in the shed won't do you good. It's getting colder after all," he said calmly. "This shixiong needs to meditate. Take the bed."
Ming Fan turned back to his instrument and sat down on the cushion again. He didn't bother looking at Luo Binghe's face, as he could feel the intense stare on him.
"Un—understood, Ming-shixiong," he said with embarrassment or just flusterness. Ming Fan didn't care, he only nodded and picked up his guqin.
He waited until he heard Luo Binghe climb into his bed before he let his mind relax and his fingers start playing notes. It was nice to have another warm body around. Meditation left him feeling cold as of late.
It became a routine soon. Luo Binghe would come over to give Ming Fan dinner he prepared in private. He'd watch his shixiong eat and depending if Ming Fan was tired or meditating, he'd either sleep on a bed roll or in his shixiong's bed.
Ming Fan was apparently a deep sleeper and tended to meditate deeply probably to repair the damage done to his meridians. Luo Binghe felt cruel in saying that he hopes Ming Fan never recovers his memories and previous personality.
Because he finally has a little slice of heaven in where he originally thought was eternal punishment. He really selfishly wanted to keep it.
Luo Binghe would relish having Ming Fan's scent all over him as soon as he entered the head disciple quarters. He always smelled like tea. Luo Binghe wanted to figure out what blend of herbs it was, so he could make it and drink it when he misses his shixiong.
It was wonderful, this little heaven that lasted a few sichen but meant the world to Luo Binghe. He'd burn down the sect just to keep it.
But for now, he buried himself into the warm sheets that smelled just like Ming Fan and drifted off in bliss.
Luo Binghe was being punished for yet another transgression he didn't realize he made. He was getting yelled at and he knew it was a matter of time before he was dragged into the shed and whipped.
It was fine. He was going to be fine. Ming Fan was going to let him crawl into his room like a useless worm he was and bask in his peace. It was going to be fine. Luo Binghe was going to make his shixiong dinner, get praised for it, and be taken care of.
This was fine.
He closed his eyes as his Shizun seized the back of his robes.
It'll be fine, he'd remind himself. Then Shen Qingqiu stopped and Luo Binghe didn't dare to look up. Not until he heard Ming Fan's voice.
"Shizun!" Ming Fan sounded takenaback. Luo Binghe looked at his shixiong, no... No, he didn't want his shixiong here. No, it'll ruin everything. No. No. NO!
Luo Binghe opened his mouth to speak but Shen Qingqiu spoke first. "This master does not need to explain himself." He stated, cold and final.
Ming Fan looked conflicted and his eyes moved to Luo Binghe and their Shizun. He hesitated before he hardened his expression and put a hand to his chest. "This one volunteers in Disciple Luo's place," he stated.
Luo Binghe held back the urge to jump as Shen Qingqiu snapped his fan open. "Is Head Disciple Ming demeaning this Master's orders?" He challenged.
Luo Binghe felt bit by bit that his slice of heaven was being torn away from him. No, no. Ming Fan always buckled to their Shizun's demands. No...
Ming Fan gritted his teeth. "Yes, this disciple is going against Shizun's say." He spat out.
Luo Binghe froze in place. What...
Shen Qingqiu's gaze narrowed. "Very well. Head Disciple Ming will take double of the amount of Disciple Luo's lashes since he wants to disrespect his master's authority," he said coldly and dropped Luo Binghe.
Ming Fan nodded and bowed, following their Shizun without even looking at Luo Binghe.
Luo Binghe was shaking. "No! No! This disciple was the one to disrespect Shizun first! Da-shixiong shouldn't pay for this lowly one's mistakes," he said desperately. He tried to run to their Shizun but a hallmaster held him back.
"Disciple Luo. Please calm down," said the gentle woman. Luo Binghe looked at her, frantic. "No! This— this one is the guilty one! Stop!" He tried to go to the pair as they entered the shed. Ning Yingying eventually came and tried to calm him down. It didn't work, why couldn't anyone realize it was his fault. It was all him.
He was dragged away, kicking and screaming. The one and only time he ever threw a tantrum, others looked disturbed. Especially since he usually just took the punishment, he was having such a strong reaction to someone suffering in his stead. A former bully of his at that.
Ming Fan was left alone at the shed, his back covered in bleeding slashes. He was trying to calm his breathing to stop himself from crying. How could Luo Binghe deal with this daily? He was so weak.
Ming Fan pulled his robes up from where he was trying to tend his own wounds when he heard the door creak open. He looked at who it was, it was Luo Binghe. He breathed out, could be worse.
"Shixiong..." He said weakly, noticing the blood. "It's fine," Ming Fan replied. "It'll heal."
Luo Binghe came over and sat down next to him, hesitantly reaching out to check the wounds. "Da-shixiong didn't need to take this one's punishment," he said, bursting into tears. "Shixiong, shouldn't have..."
Ming Fan admittedly felt his heart skip a beat. Ah...
He reached out and pulled Luo Binghe into a hug. "It's fine. You're be fine. I'll be fine. You shouldn't be dealing with this." He whispered comfortingly.
Luo Binghe cried softly into his arms.
No... This isn't that same demon. It can't be. He'll make sure he doesn't become it.
"It'll be just fine, I promise." He comforted.
Luo Binghe was in Ming Fan's room, the latter was practicing another instrument. He had no reason to be here. He was just in the way, but... He didn't want to go.
The Immortal Alliance Conference was coming up and it was highly likely that Ming Fan was not going to be picked. Even if it's been 2 years since he's been in recovery. Even if Ming Fan was head disciple by name and duties, Shen Qingqiu seemed to completely abandon him, completely halting any interest in his cultivation.
Luo Binghe had less lashes too, and he knows it's Ming Fan's doing. Taking his punishment in his stead. It hurts.
"Shixiong..." He said softly. Ming Fan stopped his playing and looked at him. "Yes?"
"Did Shizun pick you to represent the sect?" He asked. Ming Fan shook his head. "This one is still in recovery, it would be improper for a Master to make his disciple go in such conditions," he replied.
Luo Binghe's lips pursed in irritation. "Okay..." He conceded and got up. Ming Fan looked at him. "This one will get dinner ready," Luo Binghe said and got up to leave before his shixiong could respond.
"Binghe," Ming Fan called out, freezing Luo Binghe. His... His name. His given name.
Luo Binghe looked at his shixiong with so much emotion that even he didn't know what he was feeling. "Ye— yes?" He said breathlessly.
Ming Fan looked up from his qin, his finger plucking a string. His expression was calm like the next words out of his mouth didn't immediately destroy Luo Binghe.
"Do you want to run away?" He asked. "Together," he clarified.
Luo Binghe let out a breathless gasp. Was this a trick? Did his mean shixiong that mocked him for everything come back? But... What if it was real? Oh, how he hopes it's real.
"Yes," he gasped out. "Yes, I do want to," he said desperately. Ming Fan smiled.
"Good, good. We should do it during Conference. You can slip out before you go to Jue Di Jorge." He explained. "We can make a proper plan, we have time," Ming Fan reassured and then returned to his qin.
Luo Binghe nodded to no one in particular and left the room. He made his way to the kitchen, feeling like he was floating. He poured his all into Ming Fan's dinner that day.
Ming Fan definitely noticed the difference. From the food and the fact Luo Binghe was starting at him so intensely. Ming Fan put a spoon out for Luo Binghe and the other happily wrapped his lips around the spoon.
Ming Fan smiled faintly at the display and then continued eating.
The days leading up to the conference passed quickly as they made a solid plan. The day they rode over to Huan Hua Palace, Luo Binghe felt floaty. Everything went along as expected and as the disciples grouped to be sent to Jue Di Jorge, Luo Binghe slipped out without being noticed.
Ming Fan met with him and helped him take off the bracelet around his wrist. Then it felt like something in his soul lifted as he followed Ming Fan away from Huan Hua Palace.
Luo Binghe felt brave and went over and hugged his shixiong's arm tightly. Ming Fan looked at him with mild confusion and then pat his head.
Luo Binghe happily followed, glad he was allowed to keep his little slice of heaven to himself.
All was good.