Chapter Text
“Binghe, listen carefully.” Shen Qingqiu took a deep breath, his eyes cast downwards as he swallowed in an attempt to gain confidence. For centuries, he has been married to Luo Binghe. For centuries, he hadn’t been totally truthful about himself.
“I am not from this world. This body is not mine.” He spoke slowly and softly, shifting his eyes around before his gaze lands on a confused looking Luo Binghe.
He doesn’t know why or how exactly they had ended up in this situation. He was minding his own business as per usual, settled behind his desk working on some administrative things as a Peak Lord. With his constant movement to and pro the peak to follow his husband, he no longer accepts disciples, and many of those who were his disciples had left to do their own things, with only a select few staying behind to help him maintain the peak when he was away.
The silence was something he appreciated as the days passed. With no noise meant that everything was peaceful, and no deaths would incur. He has just put down his brush after finishing his work when Luo Binghe burst into the room.
It wasn’t uncommon for him to do so, especially if he had been away for a few days dealing with some demon business and had missed his Shizun terribly, but when Shen Qingqiu looked up to his face, all he saw was a mixture of emotions. Confusion, anger, sadness and perhaps even a hint of betrayal.
Luo Binghe stomped through the bamboo house and kneeled beside him, arms wrapping around his smaller build and face buried in his shoulders. Shen Qingqiu had no idea what was going on but had twisted his body to properly hug his disciple back. Patting Luo Binghe’s back soothingly, he frowned when he felt tears seeping through his clothing and damping his skin.
“Binghe, what is wrong? Tell this master.” His voice was soft, akin to that of a mother comforting her child. And this situation was not far off.
“Shizun… Shizun, the reason why you are so close to Shang-Shishu… Will you tell this disciple?” Luo Binghe’s voice was muffled, but Shen Qingqiu heard it loud and clear. With an initial confusion on what Luo Binghe was trying to get him to answer, he pulled away from the hug, to which his husband surprisingly did not refuse.
However, when he saw the look in his eyes, Shen Qingqiu realised that the answer he was looking for was not one of simple explanation. It was an answer that Shen Qingqiu did not want to talk about. The truth of his identity.
“Binghe… What… What made you ask me this?” Shen Qingqiu could not understand why after centuries of Luo Binghe accepting everything at face value, that he finally questioned his relationship with Shang Qinghua. And even then, he was asking for an explanation not only for the relationship, but everything else.
Luo Binghe was nice enough to only ask a question relating to his relationship with the AnDing Peak Lord, and not about his entire life. But yet, his eyes were clearly asking for an answer to everything Luo Binghe had no idea about. His husband had no intention of answering his own question, his teary eyes only wanting answers from Shen Qingqiu.
Shen Qingqiu sighed and stood up, bringing Luo Binghe with him to their bed. Settled down, he opened his fan and gently fluttered it under his nose, eyes closed as he thought of how to answer Luo Binghe.
“I am not from this world. This body is not mine.” Was the only sentence he could think of to start his explanation.
“Shizun?” Shen Qingqiu shushed Luo Binghe with the tap of the younger’s lips using his now closed fan.
“The reason why I’m so close to Shang-Shidi is due to this very situation. This soul in this body is not Shen Qingqiu’s. The same goes for Shang Qinghua. We came from another universe.” Luo Binghe’s eyebrows furrowed even more than they already were.
“This world was just a world in a book that Shang Qinghua’s soul wrote back in our universe. It explains why we seem to know more than we should. It also explains some actions we took.” Moving away from the question that Luo Binghe asked, Shen Qingqiu entered a detailed explanation, hoping it would somewhat satisfy Luo Binghe’s need for answers.
He did not wish to have to do this explanation at all. From the start till the ending of the novel, he had to keep it a deep dark secret. Afterwards, he didn’t see the need to explain anything. The universe he was from had no place for him anymore. This world did not have a need for him to reveal his secret.
But this was Luo Binghe who was questioning him.
The protagonist. His disciple. And more importantly, his husband for centuries.
Slowly, he spilled the secrets out for Luo Binghe to see. From how he died from a long term illness and got transported to this world, to why he had to push Luo Binghe down the abyss. Every last secret he held, was no longer a secret.
“I have you know, although I told you all these, the fact that I married you mean that I have no wish to leave you, even with a chance to go back to the universe I was originally from. I may not be the original Shen Qingqiu, but the Shizun you know me as is still me.” He concluded, tears filling his own eyes in fear that Luo Binghe would hate him for keeping such a huge thing a secret.
When he finished talking, silence filled the gap between them, and his throat burned from the long speech without any water to hydrate it. But he made no movement to quench his thirst. Luo Binghe’s reaction to all of it was more important than his need to drink a cup of tea.
The seconds ticked by, and the longer it took for Luo Binghe to show any reaction other than his unreadable expression, the more anxious Shen Qingqiu became.
Finally, before he could break down into tears and ask for forgiveness, Luo Binghe opened his mouth to speak.
“So… If Shizun’s soul is not Shen Qingqiu, then what is Shizun’s actual name?”
A simple question. Yet it was one that brought relief to Shen Qingqiu.
“Shen… Shen Yuan.”
No not Shen Qingqiu. Shen Yuan.
A name he has not been accustomed to being called with in a very long time. So long that Shen Yuan almost forgot his own name, if it wasn’t for the familiarity of his name being called by his parents in the past.
Luo Binghe is not chasing him away but asking to get to know him. It was a scenario that brings a smile to Shen Yuan’s face.
As if influenced by the smile, Luo Binghe’s lips curled into a smile too.
Almost like a predator pouncing on his prey, Luo Binghe rammed his body into Shen Yuan’s, hugging him tightly as they fell onto the bed in a pile of tangled limbs.
Hovering over Shen Yuan, Luo Binghe bent down to peck his husband a few times before he declared: “As long as Shizun is still the Shizun this disciple loves, then I have no other problems.”
Shen Yuan’s own question was soon answered after they were done with a few rounds of love making. Laying naked on his stomach, Luo Binghe was kneeling beside his body, his hands rubbing around Shen Yuan’s sore back in an attempt to relieve some of the pain that came with Luo Binghe’s rough ways in bed.
As it turned out, Luo Binghe was conversing with Mo Beijun in one of the rare moments they decide to talk, and the ice demon revealed that he was only out accompanying Luo Binghe because he was confused. Shang Qinghua apparently had dreams often, and occasionally talked as he slept. It was during one of the nights where Shang Qinghua fell asleep immediately after love making when Mo Beijun heard him sleep talk.
He seemed to be conversing with Shen Yuan, and before Mo Beijun could ignore his sleep talk in favour of getting his own sleep, he heard Shen Yuan ask for forgiveness. That he didn’t mean to write Shen Qingqiu as such a character full of plot holes.
Mo Beijun of course could barely understand what Shang Qinghua was talking about, but when he questioned it the following morning, Shang Qinghua reacted skittishly, even more so than usual. It was as though it had been something he shouldn’t have known about.
When Luo Binghe heard this, he had remembered of the times he overheard what Shen Yuan and Shang Qinghua were talking about but had often brushed it off as knowledge he had yet to learn. Then he recalled that often times during the period before they got together, Shen Yuan had talked to Shang Qinghua, and seemingly acted on what they had talked about.
It was as unusual as when Shen Yuan had just transmigrated and had a personality that differed a lot from the original Shen Qingqiu. Putting the clues together, Luo Binghe suspected that there was something not right, and all of a sudden felt betrayed, for he felt like Shen Yuan thought of him as someone untrustworthy to share his secrets with.
But now that he realised that it was only because there was no need to talk about it that Shen Yuan never did share it.
Immediately after Luo Binghe shared his thoughts, he was hit on the head for what Shen Yuan called “being an idiot”. Luo Binghe only smiled in return. This was his Shizun after all. Not someone unknown, not someone to be afraid of.
Some parts of the truth seem hard to believe, especially the parts where Shen Yuan talked about something he called “System”, which was what Luo Binghe could only imagine to be a simple voice telling Shen Yuan what he had to do. But Shen Yuan was ultimately his Shizun, and if his Shizun said so, then it must be true. That was just how it is for Luo Binghe.
Night had finally fallen, and with how distressing the day was for the two, they laid on the bed early on in the evening, whispering words of love and promises.
“Binghe… If… If we ever die and wake up in another universe, promise me that you’ll come finding me. I don’t want to have to live without you… But I’ll search for you until the day I die again.”
A selfish request.
When Shen Yuan asks Luo Binghe to do something, it usually was for the good of others or for a specific reason. But never has he so shamelessly asked for something for himself.
Hugging the smaller figure impossibly close to himself, Luo Binghe hummed an agreement, smiling when he feels Shen Yuan snuggling his head into his chest.
Falling asleep to the sound of Luo Binghe’s heartbeat, Shen Yuan thinks to himself how lucky he was to get Luo Binghe as his husband.
The sounds of water gushing in the stream in front of the replica bamboo house was what woke Shen Yuan. It was spring. Birds were chirping, the leaves of trees were rustling in the wind. Sounds that he now considers familiar, compared to the past where everything felt foreign when he realised there was not going to be the horns from cars, the loud volume of his neighbour’s television set, nor the mere sound of his alarm clock ringing.
The other side of the bed where Luo Binghe usually rests was cold. It has been for two days. Luo Binghe was out busying himself with the affairs of the Demon Realm, which he still reigned over. No matter the fact that they had this house built on a secluded mountain area away from either the Demon Realm and Cang Qiong Mountain, they were still needed in their respective areas.
They would never be able to live a life totally secluded away with only each other to rely on. Not that soon at least. Slowly getting up, he gauged the time from the position of the shadows casted by the sunlight streaming through the windows, and decided it was about time to get up and do something productive while waiting for Luo Binghe’s return.
Hours later, while he practiced his English skills – which he found was useful years before, the crunching sounds of footsteps on the stone laid ground outside brought Shen Yuan out of his concentration. After a while, no other movement was heard, and no one entered the house. Thinking that it couldn’t be Luo Binghe but could very well be some disciples who did not dare to knock on the door, he stood up from his seat at his desk and walked over to the door, opening it without much thought.
It was then that he regrets his laidback nature and having put his guard down after years of peace.
Right in front of him, surrounding the house, was a group of whom he determined to be demons dressed in all black like Luo Binghe would. Based on their hostile looks, Shen Yuan quickly concluded that they were here probably to kill him. After all, no matter the fact that Luo Binghe was known as the King, he wasn’t all well liked by some demons who preferred a pure blooded demon. However, with his strength, the only thing that could come close to Luo Binghe’s weakness would be his husband.
And his husband was right here. The seemingly defenceless Shen Yuan.
As soon as the demons began charging at him, he ran back into the home to grab Xiu Ya, bursting out of the door again to clash with the demons.
Putting his spiritual energy to use, he had managed to defeat half of the group while leading them away from the house to a more open area.
However, no matter his strength and ability, faced with roughly 20 demons looking to kill him, he could only do so much before fatigue and the continuous loss of spiritual energy brought him to his knees.
A blade stabbed through his chest.
He wanted to scream in pain, but his chest hurt even from breathing. So much so that he couldn’t do anything other than let his body fall onto the ground, the blade forcefully pulled away from him to let him bleed to death.
Then, in his hazy consciousness, he heard a scream. A familiar one at that.
Luo Binghe’s scream.
He didn’t know what happened to the rest of the demons, though he presumed they either ran away or was killed by Luo Binghe, who after a short while can rushing to him, pulling him up and into his chest.
Ah, it’s Binghe… So warm…
“Shizun… Shizun… No… Please…” one arm under Shen Yuan’s head to support him, another around his waist to bring him closer.
“B… Binghe…” Shen Yuan croaked out, using much of whatever energy he has left.
“Shizun… I’m here… Don’t worry, I’ll… I’ll save you… I…” Luo Binghe cried. He had been crying when he saw Shen Yuan fall to his knees with a sword in his chest. But now, he sobbed. Shen Yuan’s bloody hand reached over and caressed his cheek, rubbing away the tears, only to replace it with his own blood.
“Don’t cry… I… I will find you… Remember? I… I don’t say it often… But… I love you…” Shen Yuan’s breathing staggered, and so did his voice. Feeling the last of his energy leave him, he watched as Luo Binghe cried even harder, before his eyes closed in exhaustion, and he ceased to feel anything.
Luo Binghe… I love you… I will find you…
His eyes shot open, only to see a ceiling. A white ceiling.
A concrete, white ceiling with a ceiling lamp stuck in the middle.
Eyes furrowed, he sat up, head turning left and right to observe his surroundings.
A wave of familiarity struck him. He had seen this room before. He had lived in this room before. How could he not recognise this room? It was his childhood room. The one in which he stayed in and never left for an entirety of 4 years before it became clear he needed help from medical professionals.
Gazing down, he realised that he was wearing pyjamas. And beneath that is his body. But not a body he remembers having.
This body was not frail and sickly. Albeit small, probably due to age, he felt healthy. Looking at the alarm clock on his bedside table, he noted the date and year below the time. Counting back, he determined his current body age to be turning 12 years old in 4 months.
Pushing away his blanket, he swung his legs down the bed, about to stand and search more for any signs of what his life here is like. It was in no way his life before he transmigrated to the novel. But yet he was quite sure this is his room, and this is his body, no matter how different it felt.
Before he could do anything more though, his room door opened quietly, and a middle aged woman came into view.
Mother…
“A-Yuan? You are up early today. How are you feeling? Still having headaches?” just like she did in the past, his mother shuffled over and pressed a hand onto his forehead, feeling for any signs of fever.
Just like the past…
“A-Yuan? Are you alright? You are being awfully quiet…” It was only then that Shen Yuan realises that he wasn’t living as Shen Qingqiu anymore, and is back in his own body. The body that is supposed to be smiley and noisy. Well, as noisy as a sick kid could anyway.
“Yea. I’m alright. Just a bit tired.” He replied, a practiced smile on his face. His mother smiled in return and walked over to the window to pull open the curtains, which was her initial plan before she saw Shen Yuan awake.
“It’s Saturday. You can rest a bit more before breakfast. Your fever was quite bad yesterday. You sure you are alright?” she ruffled his hair when he nodded again before leaving, and Shen Yuan’s smile dropped.
No, he isn’t alright. He just died while seeing his husband cry over him. He didn’t know what happened in the world after that. He woke up in a universe he is familiar with yet feels foreign living in it. All he wanted at that moment is Luo Binghe.
Standing up, he instinctively reached for his outer wear on his bedside table, only to remember that he wasn’t in that universe anymore. He was in a modern universe with no outer wear inner wear bullshit. Sighing, he looked around once more, only to realise that his vision seemed blur. It then occurred to him that he originally had to wear glasses. Glancing over to the bedside table again, he spotted the black rimmed glasses sitting beside the alarm clock.
Putting them on, the familiar yet foreign feeling of glasses settling on his nose bridge made him scrunch up his eyebrows.
Familiar yet foreign. What a ridiculous thing to feel, yet he is feeling it all the same.
Is this a parallel universe to that of his past life? Or had transmigration changed his past life’s universe, so when he transmigrated back to the past, it had changed?
There was no System here to tell him what is going on. And he most probably wouldn’t have any way of finding out what exactly happened.
Nonetheless, he went around the room, scouring through his own belongings when he found a diary journal. One that brought memories back to him.
Back in his past life, he wrote a diary before he was 10. The year he was bedridden due to the long term illness that ultimately killed him 10 years later. After he was bedridden, nothing was interesting enough to write about in the diary, so he stopped. But if in this life he was not bedridden, perhaps he would have continued the diary.
Settling himself onto his study table, he flipped open the diary and began reading.
By the time his mother called him out for breakfast, he had just finished reading and came up with a summary of what was different. One, he doesn’t have an illness anymore. Two, instead of being bedridden, he went on with life, and thus had continued school. Just 2 differences, but yet everything seemed different.
When he entered the dining room, the bland scent of porridge lingered in the air, and his eyes shifted down to the table to see bowls of porridge laid out ready for the family of 3 to eat. Quietly, he settled down and ate his breakfast silently with his parents, who again note his silence. He smiles and repeats his tired reasoning, his smile just a fake one as his inner self tears at the taste of porridge.
His first meal by Luo Binghe was porridge. And it was a taste he would never forget. The porridge he was eating may not be the same as Luo Binghe’s, lacking the seasoning his husband always added, but it nonetheless reminded him of his disciple.
Suddenly, it felt as though he was thrown into more of a foreign place than that of a familiar one, despite his recognition of the place and people. The sounds were different. The scents were different. And so were the people around him. His usual habit of keeping silence that he got after his transmigration is now something seen as unusual.
Sure, it may be the life he had before, but it will never be the life he had with Luo Binghe.
Luo Binghe, I miss you already…
“Congratulations, you are 6 weeks pregnant.” A young couple sat in front of the doctors table in shock.
They had been married for years, the same number of years that they had tried for a child, but never did any method they had tried succeeded. They were even contemplating on trying IVF, or even adoption, but just then, the wife’s period never came, and a bout of morning sickness brought them to the doctor where they just received a miraculous news they never expected to hear.
7 months later, their baby was born on the 19th of January. Their miracle child.
They named him Luo Binghe.
Luo Binghe was a charming child. His face brought on coos from family and friends, maybe even some awes of adoration from that of strangers, but if there was one thing that his parents wished to change, would be the brown birthmark on his forehead. No, they didn’t hate it, for he was their long wanted son after all, but many people had avoided him precisely because of the mark, and his parents worry.
They were not religious, but their own parents were. When Luo Binghe had just come out of the hospital, his paternal grandparents brought him to a church, to which Luo Binghe almost immediately became banned from entering. The priest who saw him called his birthmark a demonic one.
After that incident, his maternal grandparents who took pride in being Buddhist, brought him to a temple instead, only to have the monks shriek in fear, and Luo Binghe was banned from yet another religious place. There, it wasn’t just his mark that the monks call demonic, but his entire existence. From the most probable date of conceiving to the time and date of his birth, everything screamed demons to the monks, and they refused to have him stay in their temples any longer than he already did.
His parents did not care. No matter what people say, Luo Binghe is their son, and they will love him as long as he is happy and morally upright.
But their worry of their son being shunned by society only grew as he himself grew.
There was not much problems initially. Other than people avoiding him because quote “he is a demon”, Luo Binghe was pretty quiet and obedient, barely crying except when he required some form of help.
As he became older, he became quieter. And then he began to walk, and then speak.
His parents noted how he tended to walk more than he ran, unlike peers of his age. He spoke little, and if it was not proper words, he did not speak at all. Very much different from other children who would babble away.
He would even clean up his room until it was sparkling clean, a characteristic other parents might wish their own child had. Luo Binghe’s stubbornness also shined through during meals. While he would eat everything with no fuss, he made it clear when he thought the seasoning could be improved, once even criticising the poorly cooked dish made by his father who attempted to cook while his wife was away.
Eventually, at age 2, when he could properly hold things without dropping them, he often helped his mother in the kitchen, improving the dishes tenfold.
His likes were clear, but often deemed unusual from the point of view of a child. Cartoons, he would watch when placed in front of the television, but he never did ask to watch cartoons, often sitting at his small table with a piece of drawing paper and various drawing materials laid out in front of him. He would sit there for ages, working on a piece of drawing his parents later realised were pretty much traditional Chinese paintings. Along with the drawings were scribbles that they recognised as traditional Chinese written in calligraphy.
Luo Binghe was pretty much an adult in a child’s body, preferring to be independently doing his own things instead of bugging his parents to bring him out to play.
It was so weird to be taking care of their son who seemed like he had lived a past life and remembered everything from the past. Nonetheless, he was their son, and they just chalk it up as Luo Binghe being a special kid, letting him do whatever he wants.
By the time he was 3, his mother became the assistant chef in the kitchen instead, and he would ask to buy fictional books about ancient China and cultivation stories, adding a new hobby to his list of weird non-childlike hobbies. He was pretty much a genius child in their eyes, reading books meant for adults, and even being able to do calligraphy with traditional Chinese, which they had not taught him due to their use of simplified Chinese instead.
With his abnormal ways of life, it was to no surprise for his parents when they found out that Luo Binghe was outcasted in day care.
Luo Binghe was also taller than most kids, and many were afraid of him despite his kind nature. His lack of a smile also contributed to his isolation. When he was 4, his parents decided that perhaps going to pre-school might help improve his socialisation skills. They were wrong.
In an attempt to “protect” themselves from “the demon”, his school mates ganged up on him, bullying him and isolating him even further from others. Just like in his past life, he took the bullying silently, just carrying on with his life, only holding grudges in his heart with a promise to grow stronger with every bullying incident.
A year later though, he broke his silence.
“The other children are badly injured, and their parents wish for him to not be near them anymore, so I am afraid that we cannot school Binghe any longer.” The old man in charge of the pre-school shifted his gaze from the couple in front of him towards the young boy sitting silently by the side, reading yet another cultivation book.
Luo Binghe’s parents too glanced over at their son, a sigh escaping their lips.
“The kids involved insisted that Binghe started it, and Binghe refuses to tell us what happened. You will have to talk to him on that. I suggest bringing him to a child behaviour analyst to see if his behaviour is considered normal or not. In all my years heading this school, I have yet to see a child like him, or even anywhere close to his behaviour.” He didn’t mean any harm in his sentence. It was the truth after all.
Luo Binghe is considered abnormal, no matter how quiet and obedient he is.
His parents could only thank the man and bring Luo Binghe home.
No matter how they asked him to explain his actions though, he had his lips sealed, finding ways to distract himself from his parents scolding, whether it was just gazing outside the windows or at a large scroll painting he had painted by himself. One of Shen Qingqiu.
He could only wish for his Shizun to be there with him.
Afterall, he only acted upon his deep rooted feelings for Shen Yuan.
Just that morning, he was minding his own business when the bullies appeared. As per usual, he had kept silent to all their insults, until he heard them insult his birthmark.
“Just look at that mark. You are a demon. No wonder no one wants you. I bet even your parents hate you.” Were the exact words the leader of the group had uttered. The others nodded and hummed in agreement.
If it was just a mere insult, he could just take it and get over it. But just that mere line brought thousands of memories of how his Shizun used to kiss his forehead demonic mark to ease his own self loath. But yet Shen Yuan was nowhere near him. Luo Binghe doesn’t even know if Shen Yuan was living in the same universe.
In a moment of heat, he had punched the leader. How dare he insult the mark that his Shizun loved so much? How dare he try and make him feel worthless and unwanted when Shen Yuan spent so long trying to prove otherwise?
When the other boys tried to stop him, he turned around and bashed them too. If this insult was onto his Shizun, he was sure their bones would be broken. They were lucky it was only towards him.
But when his teachers finally pulled him apart and tried to get him to speak, he found that he couldn’t. Because they wouldn’t understand. Because to them, his reasoning for the beating would be nothing more than unneeded violence.
His parents were more understanding, and he liked them, but they still wouldn’t understand, and so he chose to keep his mouth shut.
Eventually, when they realised they wouldn’t get an explanation out from Luo Binghe, they just sighed and told him to just rest while they head back to work. Luo Binghe was more independent and mature than a 10 year old kid after all. He could spend some hours alone at home without them around.
Luo Binghe could have done a lot of things while he was home alone. Painting with the new set of traditional Chinese paints after his old one ran out, practicing calligraphy, reading the book he had read half way, amongst many other things he liked to do. He could very well had just grabbed the fake sword his mother’s cousin had gotten for him and practiced some of his old martial arts with what he can do in his child body.
But he chose to just sit there on his bed, staring at the aforementioned painting of his Shizun. It may be that the body belonged to Shen Qingqiu, and not his Shizun’s actual body, but it was the only visual memory of Shen Yuan his mind could conjure.
He had spent an entire 3 days trying to complete the painting, and when he was done, his parents could do nothing but just look at him with curious gazes, wondering who it is in the painting. But they didn’t need to know. They just needed to help him hang it up. And so, they did.
That was how the large scroll painting ended up hung in front of his bed for him to look at the first thing he woke up, and the last thing he would see before he fell asleep.
When—if he ever finds Shen Yuan in his original body, Luo Binghe made a promise to himself, he would do up another painting of his Shizun.
For hours, he sat there on the bed, staring at the painting while recalling memories of his past life.
He didn’t know exactly when he realised those “dreams” he had were memories, but he knows that when he realised it, he was old enough to feel his heart break at the realisation that he almost forgot about his Shizun. His husband who died because of his own failure to keep the elder safe. Then, few months later, his brain had developed enough for him to utter his first word while he was alone in his room.
“Shizun…” he remembered uttering, staring up into the darkness of his room. Luo Binghe remembers that he had just woken up from a nightmare. No, not a nightmare, but a memory. The memory of Shen Yuan dying in his arms. Then, he unconsciously managed to utter something not a cry of frustration, like he would when he was younger and had yet to develop the brain required for proper speech. And it had to be “Shizun”. Not that he minds. He prefers it that way anyway.
That night, he cooked porridge. The one that he used to make for Shen Yuan. He needs to keep cooking it, so he would remember the recipe and make it once again for his husband when they meet. If they meet.
His parents had a long talk in their bedroom, probably about him, but he couldn’t really tell due to the lack of his cultivation and demonic abilities; and he was not interested. Luo Binghe went to sleep with the thought of Shen Yuan, being able to find him, being able to fulfil his promise to his Shizun and being together with Shen Yuan again.
The next day was a weekend, perfect for his parents, who immediately booked an appointment with a child behaviour analyst and brought him over. There, he was placed in a room with shelves of toys and a table set in the middle of the room, a long “mirror” on one of the walls he knows would be a two way mirror that allows the adults to observe him.
Luo Binghe wouldn’t have minded. He was used to being stared at for his unusual behaviour after all. But it would have been nice if they let him bring in the book he was reading. Or at least have proper paper and drawing supplies for him to use. The only paper and drawing supplies he found was a small drawing pad with many pages already drawn on and unusable, and two broken crayons. Sighing, he placed them back at where he found them, and began packing the shelves. They were messy to his standards, and overly crowded, but it wasn’t like he could throw any of those toys away.
Mess was always a thing Shen Yuan disliked. But he equally disliked messy people, which had led Luo Binghe to be the clean freak he was now. Not that it was a bad thing.
Seeing his behaviour, the analyst could only raise her eyebrows in surprise, and get even more shocked when Luo Binghe decided he was done packing to the best he could, and just sat down at the table silently staring into blank space as he waited for the observation test to be over.
After that observation test, the analyst brought him out of the room and asked more questions, to which he replied curtly. Then his parents were brought in and they too were asked questions he paid no attention to as he dug out his book from his bag and continued reading from where he left off.
Reading books involving cultivation often brought him the much needed comfort that covered over his occasional homesickness. He may be growing up learning things as a boy in modern times, living a new life, but the habits he had gotten from the past often lead to homesickness when he realised he couldn’t do things he used to do.
“I recommend that you try to change the environment he is living in. Maybe move to a less crowded city. Shanghai may be a good choice. Somewhere on the outskirts to give him a more relaxed school environment. If a change in environment does not work, then I am not sure how else to help him.” all eyes on the indifferent child, the analyst could only give a general advice. She had come across many difficult children. From those refusing to eat or talk, to those who have too much energy to spare.
But Luo Binghe was different. If he was an adult, she could understand. But as a child, she could only assume that the environment in school was what caused him to become violent, as she could see nothing but an obedient and mature child.
Acting upon the analyst’s advice, his parents immediately filed for a transfer from their company they work in to the Shanghai branch, searching for a suitable housing as he stayed home with a babysitter he absolutely hates. The babysitter was an unwilling teenage son of their neighbour, and he just reminded Luo Binghe of Liu Qingge.
Once their transfer was approved and completed, the family packed up and headed to Shanghai, where they will start again, hoping that Luo Binghe will have a better life.