Chapter 30 Master of Dual Cultivation
Mu Qingfang is out of the sect, in a tiny town in the valley of the Kunlun mountains when a qi messenger reaches him. He recognizes Yanshin’s rose finch, but it doesn’t land on his shoulder. Instead it crashes into his chest, clinging on with its small talons.
“Qingfang, Yuan-er and his group just got back from their mission. He’s…he’s fine, but-”
Mu Qingfang’s heart stutters in his chest, and his hands falter. Xie Yanmei’s head snaps up, and she narrows her eyes first at the glowing bird, and then his face.
“You…Just come home. Yuan-er, he… Just come.” Wu Yanshin’s voice does not crack, but Mu Qingfang hears the urgency in it, nonetheless.
“Xiuying,” Mu Qingfang calls to Wei Xiuying, now a fully trained healer. “Take over for me, I need to return to the peak immediately.”
The young woman nods, just once, and seamlessly takes over bandaging an old woman’s foot.
Rising, Mu Qingfang crosses the tent to Xie Yanmei. “Meimei,” he says, and his voice shakes. “Something’s happened to Yuan-er. I have to go.”
She grips his wrist in an unshakeable hold and he feels a quick pulse of her energy. It siphons off the worst edge of his anxiety, slowing his stuttering and racing heart. “What did Yanshin tell you?”
Running a hand over his face, he says, “I don’t know! She said he was fine, but she didn't sound fine. I have to go.” His stomach feels tight and sick, and he swallows hard. He pushes off the earth, calling Fu Xiao to catch him midair. It’s a move Liu Qingge might make, but Mu Qingfang has never felt less in control of himself as he does at this moment.
While he flies headlong back to Cang Qiong, he reviews what he knows. This morning, Mu Yuan left the peak with one of the hallmasters and a handful of disciples to go on a relatively simple flower picking mission. Twin Flame Cattails are only found in areas rich in yin-qi. There’s been records of finding them in underground grottoes, or lakes formed by ancient mountains. By themselves, the Twin Flame Cattails are not particularly useful, but when dried and ground into a fine powder, it can be effective at treating severe aphrodisiac poisoning, depending on the infectious agent.
It’s a mission given to the younger disciples for a reason! There are no ancient guardians of the cattails, nor treasures found nearby. It’s an assignment which is safe and easy, meant to build confidence! Something has clearly gone wrong, and Mu Qingfang feels ill, not knowing.
He pushes Fu Xiao faster, using most of his cultivation to do so. It leaves the rest of him in a near mortal state with sweat beading at his temples, and soaking through the arms of his robes.
Near dusk, Mu Qingfang flies through the qi barrier protecting the sect and heads straight to the Healing Pavilion. He lands on the walkway at a run, and barrels through the heavy double doors, leaving one hanging from the hinges.
The disciple at the desk in the lobby takes one look at him and says, “Shizun, Mu Shidi is in the east hallway, room three.”
“Thank you,” Mu Qingfang says hoarsely, and moves through the corridors at his fastest walk. Wu Yanshin must have some kind of alert set for him, because she appears out of nowhere, keeping pace with him.
“A-Shu, we need to talk before you go in there.” Wu Yanshin’s voice is steady. Calm. Her qi pulses and a privacy barrier forms around them.
“Where’s Qingqiu?” Mu Qingfang needs his husband. Oh, fuck. Is Qingqiu all right? He must be at his wits end. His heartbeat is loud, sending a rushing drumbeat against his inner ear. “How is Yuan-er? Yanshin, what happened?” He reaches out, gripping her forearm, meeting her eyes urgently.
“He’s safe and healthy, A-Shu,” Yanshin says. “I promise, it’s just that he’s…” She takes a deep breath. “A hidden realm opened up where the kids were harvesting the Cattails. Yuan-er, Ma Xiang and Meng Yun were caught in it. Hallmaster Jin flash stepped halfway across the meadow to get to the kids, because he felt the disruption in reality.” These hidden realms existed in pockets tucked in neatly next to their reality. Some were essentially owned by people that had control over where and when they appeared. Other hidden realms appeared and disappeared seemingly on the whims of chance.
Mu Qingfang’s pupils shrink. “No…” Hidden realms came in many different flavors, some utterly harmless, and others--
“Hallmaster Jin tells me that just as he got to Mu Yuan, there was a pulse of energy and then they were all transported somewhere else.” Wu Yanshin says softly.
Covering his face briefly, Mu Qingfang feels gutted. “And then what?” He whispers.
“Everyone emerged a few minutes later.” Yanshin tells him. Her eyes are shadowed. “For those outside it was minutes only.”
Mu Qingfang’s stomach drops. “How long?” She bites her lip, and doesn’t answer. “Jiejie,” he says, voice cracking. “How long was my son in there?”
She closes her eyes, exhaling heavily. When she opens them again, she says simply, “Five years.”
Roughly, he scrubs his hand over his face. Five years. This morning, Yuan-er was twelve. Now, he’s seventeen and gods alone know what he’s been through. “Where is Qingqiu? Does he know?”
Nodding, Wu Yanshin says, “He came immediately. He told me that the location array alarmed.” After all these years, Shen Qingqiu still had the habit of sewing location arrays into Yuan-er’s inner robes. She shakes her head a little. “Qingqiu-ge was already here when Yuan-er got back.” Her eyes glimmer, but no tears fall. “He’s been with Yuan-er ever since.”
Outside the treatment room, Yanshin says one more thing. “A-Shu.” Her smile wobbles a little. She’s known Mu Yuan his entire life, changed his nappies, and watched him grow into a fine young man. Five missing years…they’ve missed so much time! “He’s so handsome. You’ll see. He’s still Yuan-er.” He nods miserably, and Yanshin pulls him in for a quick hug. He holds her tight, fighting the urge to cry until he gets his emotions somewhat under control.
Wu Yanshin steps back, and pats him on the shoulder. “I’ll be in my office,” she says, and walks back up the hall.
Mu Qingfang takes some deep breaths. In an emergency, the first pulse you should take is your own. It’s been a long time since he’s heard the echo of his father’s words in his mind. He knocks twice, out of habit, and enters.
“Qingfang,” Shen Qingqiu says with profound relief, from the other side of the room. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, with an arm around the shoulders of a familiar looking person.
This young man’s hair is much longer, pulled into a loose ponytail with the length of it over one shoulder. His face has matured, his jaw sharper, his cheekbones higher. His brow is strong, and his eyebrows dark slashes across them. His eyes, though. His eyes are the same eyes that Mu Qingfang’s seen for the past twelve years. So like Qingqiu’s. The rest of him looks rangy and lean, like he’s had a growth spurt and has some catching up to do.
Mu Yuan’s green eyes go wide, and his lips part. “Baba,” he says. His eyes fill, and his breath hitches into a sob. Shen Qingqiu squeezes his arm more tightly around their son. “Baba, I’m sorry.”
There’s no memory of walking across the room. It’s just that Mu Qingfang is there, perching next to him on the other side, cupping his changed face with both his hands. “Son,” he says, and his voice breaks. “Yuan-er….” Mu Qingfang wipes Mu Yuan’s tears away with his thumbs. “Sweet boy. There’s nothing to forgive.”
Mu Yuan’s face crumples, and he throws himself into Mu Qingfang’s chest, curving his spine because (what the fuck) he’s tall, now. Over Yuan-er’s shoulder, Shen Qingqiu’s face looks drawn and pale. Mu Qingfang reaches out, guiding Qingqiu into this family hug. Shen Qingqiu finds Mu Qingfang’s hand and grips it tight.
Once Mu Yuan has recovered his composure, he dries his face, and explains. “I was harvesting the Twin Flame Cattails from the bottom, like we’re supposed to. There were so many, so we expected it to take most of the afternoon. I was moving steadily through this clump of cattails, and a little flash caught my eye.”
Shen Qingqiu leans forward, resting his head into his hands. “I’ve heard this already,” he tells Mu Qingfang wearily without waiting to be asked.
Mu Yuan looks away, rubbing the back of his neck. “There was a Jade-Winged Dragonfly hiding down at the base of the stalks. I nearly crushed it, by accident. So I picked it up-”
“Oh, no,” Mu Qingfang mutters, briefly closing his eyes.
“-And then the next thing I knew, we were all in a totally different place! There must have been a type of gate or something, because Hallmaster Jin came diving in out of nowhere, and just rolled up to his feet.” Mu Yuan leans into Mu Qingfang, eyes closed. “That…yeah. Anyway, we got really lucky because it was a realm filled with tree spirits. It was beautiful, actually.”
Mu Yuan goes on to explain that he thinks time flows differently there, because to them it didn’t seem that long. He quickly amends that comment to add, “Hallmaster Jin made us spend so much time meditating, though. The environment there…we didn’t need to eat, just cultivation was plenty.”
Mu Qingfang grimaces, meeting Shen Qingqiu’s eyes over Mu Yuan’s shoulder. Qingqiu rolls his eyes, having been an unwilling listener to Mu Qingfang’s many rants on the subject of long term inedia. No wonder Yuan-er is so lean! The child hasn’t had anything to eat in years!
Fortunately, the experience doesn’t appear to have left Mu Yuan traumatised from anything other than an unexpected parting from his family for a few years. Mu Qingfang feels traumatised enough for them both! He missed Yuan-er’s awkward teenage years! His son skipped over breakouts and a cracking voice.
Wu Yanshin returns a short time after that, expression softening to see Mu Yuan tucked between his fathers on the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling, Yuan-er?”
Mu Yuan looks a bit wilted. “I feel fine, A-Yi. Just. Tired.”
“Hungry?” Mu Qingfang prods.
The boy nods. “Yeah, since I got back, I feel like I’m starving.”
Shen Qingqiu’s lips flatten. “I will arrange food to be sent to the house.” He reaches out, laying a hand on Mu Yuan’s shoulder. “Yuan-er.” Mu Yuan makes a questioning noise, but obligingly turns to his father. Shen Qingqiu moves his hand to the back of Yuan-er’s neck, and presses their heads together. “Son…”
Mu Yuan clutches Shen Qingqiu’s arms, and then turns completely into his embrace, hiding his face in the man’s chest. “A-Die. I missed you and Baba so much.”
Again, Mu Qingfang finds his eyes filling, and hastily wipes them. Unobtrusively, Yanshin passes over a handkerchief and he makes quick use of it, stuffing it up his sleeve when he’s done. Wu Yanshin searches his face and then sends a burst of qi over his face, refreshing it, and removing any evidence of his tears.
When Shen Qingqiu sits back, his own eyes are glassy. “I will see you both at home,” he says hoarsely, and takes his leave.
*
Back at the house, Mu Yuan looks around like he’s checking to see if everything matches with his memory. They quickly discover a problem. None of Yuan-er’s clothes fit. Mu Qingfang shouldn’t be surprised, the boy is just a bit shorter than Mu Qingfang!
Hastily, Mu Qingfang sends an urgent message to Shang Qinghua asking for clothes that fit. Before he sends his messenger off, he has Yuan-er lie down on his bed, only to find his heels dangling off the foot. “He will also need a new bed,” Mu Qingfang adds, and sends it off.
“Baba,” Mu Yuan says quietly. “I’m really okay. It’s just. Weird.” He sits up, swinging his long legs over the side. “It’s good to be home.”
*
Mu Qingfang knows that he should have no expectations about Mu Yuan’s behavior, after his ordeal. He is only human, for all that he’s the leading physician in the Jianghu. So it doesn’t take long to notice that Mu Yuan seems depressed. It’s only to be expected, Mu Qingfang tells himself.
But the boy is quiet, and Mu Qingfang misses his chattering. This newer version of his son is the same respectful boy he’s always been. He still devours books, and researches everything under the sun. Mu Yuan has been evaluated by the Qian Cao Hallmasters and tested out of most of the junior-level disciple classes.
His cultivation has grown so much that he could go to Wan Jian peak and pull his own sword as soon as he was cleared to do so.
“It’s his eyes,” Shen Qingqiu says one night, long after the moon has risen. He’s pressed right up against Mu Qingfang’s back, one arm draped over his waist. Their fingers are threaded together, and Shen Qingqiu squeezes gently. “He looks like a young man now, yes, but his eyes are so much older.”
“His friends are still twelve,” Mu Qingfang says into the darkness. “And you know he’s always…struggled with that.”
Behind him, Shen Qingqiu goes still. Slowly he says, “That’s not true. There’s one friend that’s exactly the right age now.”
“Luo Binghe?” Mu Qingfang asks in disbelief. “You’re what, matchmaking them? I thought he was a little beast?”
Shen Qingqiu snorts, and presses a kiss to Mu Qingfang’s nape. “A little brute, more like, just like his fool of a shizun. Send for him soon, Qingfang. If that doesn’t cheer Yuan-er up, then nothing will.”
*
Reacclimating to the real world was harder than Mu Yuan thought it was going to be. Baba and A-Die haven’t said but he knows that they’re both…adjusting to a suddenly seventeen year old son. Mu Yuan can’t bear to tell them that it didn’t feel like five years for him. Time was funny in that other realm, and he’s already started to forget things like the names of the tree spirits he’d made friends with.
Mu Yuan remembers spending a lot of time in the forest. He remembers playing in creeks, and studying the few books he had in his sleeves at the time. He remembers mediating and cultivating a lot. He’s kind of still surprised every time he sees his new face in the mirror!
Once he got back, his parents hastily arranged for an entire new wardrobe, as well as a new bed. He’s got an appointment to visit Wan Jian peak soon for a spirit sword, and now he’s old enough to start studying the senior disciple curriculum.
A week after his return, Mu Yuan visits Wu Yanshin in her office at the Pavilion. Baba is out at a clinic with Yanmei A-Yi, and A-Die is on Qing Jing peak working. Hesitating in the doorway, Mu Yuan watches his aunt scowl at her inkstone, and load her brush full of ink.
Without looking up she calls, “In or out, make a decision.”
“A-Yi, can I talk to you about something?” Mu Yuan says, entering the room fully.
Wu Yanshin snorts. “I’ll take any excuse for a break, Yuan-er. What’s wrong?”
Frowning, Mu Yuan takes a seat across from her desk. He doesn’t bother to ask how she knows something’s wrong. Wu Yanshin has known him since he was two weeks old. She probably can just take a look at him and know. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “So. Now that I’m old enough.” Her lips flatten. “How do I convince Baba that I want to learn medical dual cultivation?”
Wu Yanshin blinks in surprise. “Okay, I’ll admit, that was not what I expected you to say.” She leans forward, elbows on the desk and her fingers threaded together. “This seems rather sudden.” Her eyes meet his, but she says nothing further, giving him leave to spill his thoughts.
It’s a move he’s well familiar with, having been raised by Mu Qingfang. Baba uses silence as a weapon, allowing people to grow uncomfortable with the quiet until they spill their guts. Fortunately, this isn’t sudden. “It’s part of medicine,” he says simply. “How could I call myself a physician and not know how to treat something as common as aphrodisiac poisoning?”
“It’s not always so simple, Yuan-er,” Wu Yanshin tells him. She sighs, rubbing a hand over her forehead. “Has your Baba talked to you about what it’s like at all?”
Mu Yuan shakes his head. “No. Never. I just know that he hated it.” He pauses and adds, “I read his paper, the one from a long time ago? And Fang Shijie just published-” He grimaces. “Well, actually, I guess that’s five years ago, now.”
Yanshin tilts her head to the side, cracking her neck. She rolls her shoulders, and then slumps in her chair. After giving him a look of consideration, she erects a privacy barrier around the two of them. “Yuan-er, what I’m going to tell you stays between us, do you understand? Do not bring this up to your father, either of them. Promise me.” Her voice is firm, her eyes serious.
“I swear it,” Mu Yuan vows, forehead creasing into a frown.
Wu Yanshin’s expression is grave. “The first thing you need to understand is that people are different. Some people work in the Dual Cultivation pavilion and it doesn’t bother them a bit. Some enjoy it. Others find it distasteful but necessary, and will take their turn in rotation without complaint. Others…” Wu Yanshin looks like she’s seeing something far away.
“Other people find it so horrific that they can’t bear it at all. For whatever reason, some people find intercourse without a loving relationship to be utterly, utterly foul and disgusting.” She holds up a hand. “No, don’t ask anything, Yuan-er. Just accept the fact that people are different, and that this is just a variant of normal, okay?” Wu Yanshin chews her lip. “Before he became peak lord, your father was almost dismissed from the sect by the former peak lord-”
“Oh! The one that A-Die punched in the face?” Mu Yuan brightens. A-Die always looks so smug when he mentions it.
“The very same,” Wu Yanshin agrees, flashing a quick smile. “Peak Lord Zhou told your father that he had no need of a head disciple that refused to work in the Dual Cultivation pavilion and would have dismissed him from the sect if he had not.”
Mu Yuan’s brows furrow. “But that’s…that’s coercion!”
Grimly, Yanshin nods. “Yeah. I agree with you. It was a rough time for Renshu for awhile there, and after he was made the acting peak lord, the first thing he did was make participation in the Dual Cultivation ward strictly volunteer only.”
Feeling like he might be sick, Mu Yuan whispers, “Oh, no. Poor Baba.”
“Yes.” Wu Yanshin tells him. “As your Shizun, Mu Qingfang is responsible for making sure you have all the knowledge and skills to move forward and work as an independent healer. But as your father…Yuan-er, he’s going to do everything in his power to make sure that you never have to feel what he felt, back in those days.”
“You’re telling me that he will never agree to let me study dual cultivation,” Mu Yuan summarizes glumly, digging his nails into his palms.
Wu Yanshin closes her eyes, and takes a deep breath. When she opens them, she meets his gaze squarely. “No. He won’t.”
*
Mu Yuan leaves that meeting with permission granted from Wu Yanshin. In a couple days time he’ll meet with both Hallmaster Ye and Hallmaster Fang and discuss the introductory session. Wu Yanshin provided him with some reading material he’d not been able to access yet, and she makes him swear that if he has any negative feelings about the process, he can stop it at any time.
“Consent is everything, and it can be revoked,” Wu Yanshin had said.
She’d also mentioned that he should expect Hallmaster Ye to find a healer closer to his own age to personally instruct him.
Mu Yuan didn’t really understand why Hallmaster Ye couldn’t do it, he’d apparently been teaching disciples how to dual cultivate for medical purposes for centuries! He can’t help feeling a little offended about it. After all, he wants to learn from an expert, and who better than someone who’s been practicing for two whole Generations.
Before he heads back to the house, Mu Yuan visits the orchards. When he was little, he loved wandering through the rows of peach trees. He used to climb the tallest trees and plush fruit right off the branches and eat it sitting up there. It’s a good place, he thinks, remembering jumping out of a high branch into Baba’s waiting arms. It’s funny. When he was little he couldn’t wait to grow up, and now--. Now he kind of misses being little enough to do things like have someone catch him when he jumps out of high places.
Mu Yuan turns into a row with peach trees on the left and plums on the right. At the far end of this row, there’s a tall young man dressed in Bai Zhan robes. The other boy’s hair is pulled into a high ponytail, and the long length of it spills in waves and curls down his back. Perhaps sensing he’s being observed, the Bai Zhan disciple turns toward Mu Yuan.
Oh! Mu Yuan knows that boy, it’s-
Luo Binghe’s eyes widen and he takes two quick steps closer. “...Mu Yuan?”
Mu Yuan grins. “Binghe!” He walks quickly to join the other boy. “Hello, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you.”
Swallowing hard, Luo Binghe’s gaze roves over Mu Yuan’s form. “Mu Yuan…you’re so tall,” Binghe says.
Laughing awkwardly, Mu Yuan rubs the back of his neck. They’re just about the same height now, which is…really weird. “Yeah, I. Got stuck in a pocket realm for a few years, and so.” Mu Yuan can’t help the way he looks at the other boy. Luo Binghe looks good, but then he always does. Mu Yuan’s always thought that he looks just like a Bai Zhan ought to look. Binghe’s shoulders are so wide, and his hips so narrow…it’s pleasing to look at.
Aesthetically.
What? It’s just an objective fact! Anyone would think the same!
“I heard,” Luo Binghe says eventually. He looks at the ground before meeting Mu Yuan’s eyes again. “How have you been adjusting?”
It’s the question that everyone wants to know and no one wants to ask. Mu Yuan thinks it’s kind of a relief that someone finally has. “I feel like I don’t fit in,” he admits. He shrugs, averting his eyes. The plums sure are big this year! “But then again, I’ve always been a little…” Strange. Odd. Weird. Awkward. Mu Yuan’s heard them all. The prodigy of two peaks, who reads boring old books for fun, who doesn’t really get other kids his age, and always knows more than he should.
“There’s nothing wrong with Mu Yuan!” Luo Binghe says firmly, moving even closer. Now, he’s so close that Mu Yuan could reach out and touch his shoulder if he wanted to. Not. Not that he wants to. “It’s not your fault if you’re smarter than everyone else.”
Mu Yuan smiles wryly. “Binghe is kind. And I’m definitely not smarter than everyone.”
Luo Binghe snorts, and a smile touches his lips. “Smarter than most,” he corrects himself. More seriously, he says, “Mu Yuan…this disciple…knows a little what it’s like, to not fit in. To have people look at you and see someone else. To look at you and find you wanting.”
Oh. Mu Yuan’s throat tightens alarmingly.
“But A-Yuan,” Binghe continues softly, “You’re perfect, just as you are.”
Hastily, Mu Yuan turns around, rocking back on his heels and looking up at the sky. He quickly scrubs his sleeves across his face. “Binghe is kind,” he says again. The other boy says nothing, but Mu Yuan feels the heat of him, just behind his back.
“Anytime A-Yuan feels alone,” Luo Binghe says quietly, “he should know that this one would welcome his company. Always.”
When Mu Yuan turns back, he finds Binghe’s black eyes burning into his own. It’s actually. Hard to look away. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you saying such lovely things to me,” he says finally.
“Do you not?” The corners of Luo Binghe’s lips tilt up. “I seem to recall a little boy who outmaneuvered a War God, to take on a no-name disciple at the selection one year.”
Kicking at a clump of dirt, Mu Yuan mutters, “Anyone would have wanted Binghe for a disciple. That’s just facts.”
Luo Binghe snorts. “I think we both know that’s not true. A-Yuan calls this one kind. But the truth is, it’s always been Mu Yuan who’s been kindest to Binghe when he needed it the most.” The weight of his stare feels heavy. “Someday, this Binghe will be in a position to give A-Yuan everything he wants.”
They wander down the rows of the orchard, sleeves brushing with each step. Mu Yuan feels a bit tongue tied, but he also feels kind of like he’s said what he wanted to. The companionship is lovely, and Binghe’s presence feels steady at his side. Eventually, Luo Binghe sighs.
“Forgiveness, A-Yuan, this one needs to return to Bai Zhan. Shizun is getting back from a hunt today.” Determination is clear in his expression. “I’ve been training hard. If I can get a couple good hits on Peak Lord Liu, I could make head disciple.”
Mu Yuan stops in his tracks, astonished. “So soon?” Honestly, why should he even be surprised?
Binghe huffs a little. “It’s not exactly a sure thing,” he warns. “Shizun’s cultivation is extremely powerful.”
“Well,” Mu Yuan says firmly. “I believe Binghe can do it.”
Luo Binghe smiles, and it’s a sweet and wondrous thing that lights up his face and curves his eyes into crescents. “Hopefully this one will not disappoint A-Yuan.” He takes his leave after that, and Mu Yuan watches him fly off into the sky.
Back at his house, Mu Yuan finds Shen Qingqiu at the tea table with a book of poetry and a cup of steaming tea. The older man looks up as Mu Yuan enters. A-Die’s green eyes narrow, but his mouth twists up in a little smirk.
Oh, no.
“Feeling better, are we?” Shen Qingqiu asks silkily, as Mu Yuan settles on his knees across from him.
“Yes, A-Die,” Mu Yuan says honestly. He reaches for one of the empty cups on the tea tray and pours. He sips slowly, thinking of the way that Luo Binghe’s smile just before they parted looked. Maybe he should work on painting again. He’d like to be able to see that expression any time he feels down.
Shen Qingqiu snorts, but when Mu Yuan glances over, his father is merely reading his book. It’s fine. He does feel better. Mu Yuan takes another sip of his tea, smiling a little, completely missing the way Shen Qingqiu rolls his eyes affectionately.
*
Well, Shen Qingqiu thinks, satisfied. At least that little beast is good for something.
