Foaming at the mouth at the mere mention of role reversal Binghe and Yuan, don't mind me
Also don't mind me just spitballing here, you can take this as a prompt or not! But can you imagine Binghe's reaction to seeing Shen Yuan years in the future, probably still at Jinlan city? Not only is he taking in how different Shen Yuan looks, either in regards to how the abyss changed him or just how he's grown, but Binghe doesn't have prior knowledge that Shen Yuan would live through the abyss.
Can you imagine the shock? The misunderstanding as Binghe doesn't react to anything because he's still processing that his beloved disciple is THERE, he's ALIVE. He was though to be dead for years, but somehow he survived the abyss.
heyyyy anon so glad that iāve managed to inspire the same obsession in you thatās spawned in me seemingly overnight. anddd i didnāt even consider the possibility of this scene when i came up with this scenario but let me try my hand at what itād look likeā¦Ā also i know i wrote his name all as shen yuan in this but i only noticed after i finished and i don't want to rewrite. smile. enjoy!!
Jinlan city carries with it a chilled breeze, curled up quietly against Luo Bingheās skin under the edges of his robe, where flesh meets air. Face impassive, mouth a straight line and eyes heavy with poison-bourne-exhaustion only a few hours into the trip, everything spells out the path to his inevitable turning in for the night soon. The sunās joined in his lulling to slumber, touching the horizon as the sky turns orange from blue.Ā
Luo Binghe drifts, a reed swaying in the wind by the riverside as he investigates the town, slipping away from Liu Qingge and Mu Qingfang to survey the ghost town in his lonesome.Ā
Everything is par for the course, almost mundane enough that Luo Binghe feels a muted frustration grab at the epicentre of his chest, wrapped around the raw meat of his heart. Always muted, desaturated and less than every sensation could be, as though Shen Yuan took with him a shred of Luo Binghe. If he were an artist, then Shen Yuan wasnāt just his muse but every hue of colour, enshrined in Luo Bingheās memory in smudges of peach, white, green, and rosy pinks.Ā
Of course, Luo Binghe hasnāt felt like much of anything in a long time. Every day feels like going through familiar, pre-determined motions, drifitng in and out of classes with a commitment inspired in him that never possessed him before the Immortal Alliance Conference. Even this mission, a slight deviation from the norm, feels easy enough to slot into a quiet part of his mind, where everything mundane gathers dust. Months, almost years worth of memories tucked away in a damp corner.Ā
This should be more of the same. Luo Binghe is anticipating nothing else.Ā
Thenāa figure bumps into him, bringing him to a stumbling halt.Ā
Heās practiced; the figure picks up speed when his gaze passes over them, so Luo Binghe pursues, numbness clenching at the hollow of his chest like a bird nipping fingers. Short bursts of static aimed at his hummingbird heart as he ducks into shadowy alleyways, a maze bringing him eventually to the second story of a seemingly-abandoned home.Ā
Hand resting on his sword, Luo Binghe creeps up the stairs. Opening to a room, his gaze skips over the furniture in his first sweep before he stills at the sight of the balcony. Silhouette traced against the setting sun, the figure lowers their hood as Luo Binghe unsheaths his spiritual weapon. Its hardly silent, and the figureās face snaps over to meet Luo Bingheās eyes.Ā
Lightning strikes, a shock to the heart.Ā
Shen Yuan exhales a moment later, and it hurts almost twice as bad.Ā
āShizunā¦ā He says, words so quiet heās almost mouthing them to himself. Cultivation pulled from the equation, Luo Binghe doesnāt think he would have heard them. Here, however, they twist a blade into his palpating, trembling chest. āItās really you here?āĀ
He opens his mouth but words loathe to creep past his throat and spill over his teeth. Luo Binghe can only stare, drinking in details he never dared imagine, his disciple last remembered bloodied and sobbing at the ridge of a gorge touched by years Luo Binghe thought Shen Yuan had lost because of his Shizunās incompetence.Ā
Gone are the gentle greens and whites of Qing Jing Peak, replaced with navy blue, near black, and charcoal gray robes that layer over themselves thrice over, as though Shen Yuan tries to keep himself warm. His face lost its last vestiges of baby fat, severe green eyes dulled yet still imbued with life. Hair shiny, longer, left in a simple updo unbefitting of Qing Jing Peakās strict standards. Luo Bingheās mind wanders back to hazy mornings spent brushing his discipleās hair before heās forcefully yanked back to the present.Ā
āI suppose Shizun suspects this lowly demon to be responsible for the plague?ā Shen Yuan asks, unsurprised yet words saddled with inexplicable defeat. āWith word from Qing Jing Peakās immortal master against this one, I suppose thereās no point in dragging out the inevitable trial, though Shizun can decide if this one should dare show his face to the other Peak Lords Shizunās brought with him.āĀ
āShen Yuan,ā Luo Binghe manages to croak, mind speeding to such an extent that forcing words out feels like fighting past a hot charcoal shoved down his throat.Ā
āOr,ā Shen Yuan continues, as though uninterrupted, starting to pace in a way so familiar and practiced that any imagined excuses of possession or imitation vanish themselves from Luo Bingheās mind, āOr maybe Shizun wants to bring this stupid evil demon to the Sect Leader himself before executing himāmaybe he wants to claim the glory of becoming Jinlanās saviour, maybeāmaybe Shizun wants this disciples head on a spike, orāāĀ
Shen Yuan whips around, eyes burning into Luo Bingheās with intensity that would unwaver him if he wasnāt already off-balance. Hazy and near-floating, feeling his heart beat outside his frail body. Despite the weight of it, thereās a vulnerable desperation that robs him of breath, too reminiscent of days Shen Yuan spent at the end of Luo Bingheās bed on days where the world pinned him to the sheets without mercy.Ā Violent and fervent hope seems to overtake Shen Yuan.
āOr maybe Shizun justā? WIllāthis one knows that Shizun wants⦠But everything else has changed, I canā This oneāMaybe Shizun wants me to live?āĀ
āYouāre supposed to be dead,ā Luo Binghe manages to say, and watches Shen Yuanās expression freeze before shuttering, scrubbed away from a too-pale face and replaced with a jade-like twist to his lips so cold it feels as though it cuts at Luo Bingheās skin.Ā
He reaches out and Shen Yuan flinches.Ā
Youāre supposed to be dead, Luo Binghe thinks, standing days away from home yet able to feel the press of grass and stone under his knees as he stares at a solitary grave in Qing Jing Peakās bamboo forest.Ā
Youāre supposed to be dead, he thinks, watching Shen Yuan turn from disciple to stranger, any hope in his former student's shoulders deflating until Shen Yuanās taking up very little space, completely unaware heās done it at all.Ā
Youāre supposed to be dead, Luo Binghe thinks, remembering every single conversation with Liu Qingge where they both quietly tell themselves thereās no body, thereās always a chance. They both knew they were lying to each other. I mourned you. I mourned you I mourned you I mourned you.Ā
In the same room, Shen Yuan retreats, and despite being closer than they have been in years, Luo Binghe can feel the channel of one-sided hatred between the two of them grow ever-deeper.