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An object in motion,
my two legs are broken
but look at me dance.
An object in motion,
don’t ask where I’m going,
‘cause where I am going
is right where I am.
Shen Jiu was an object in motion.
Since the day he burned down the walls that held him captive, the day he smothered the deceitful whispers of hope he had forged ahead and had never looked back. He dyed his hands in red, and his heart in black. He shed his bruised and battered skin, spitting and trampling it beneath his feet. Never again will he let others treat him like a plaything. Never again will he be that weak, pathetic, naive, little street rat. No. He’s bigger now. Older. Powerful. A goddamn peak lord is what he is!
He is Shen Qingqiu— not Shen Jiu.
***
There was a boy kneeling in front of him. The new disciple he had went out of his way to steal from that warfreak Liu Qingge.
The boy smiled at him.
Shen Qingqiu’s insides turned, like snakes writhing inside his gut. It was so visceral that if Shen Qingqiu had been any less used to keeping a placid expression, he would have gagged and doubled over. But as it was, his lips curled south a hairsbreadth for a split second, disappearing just as quickly.
Shen Qingqiu had never liked kids to begin with, had never felt like a kid but Luo Binghe, oh, that little beast— had managed to stir something within.
Things he swore he had buried alive long ago. The way it tries to claw out of its grave frightens him. No. It maddens him.
Was it the blinding light he unapologetically shone? Shen Qingqiu stopped there. He did not dare venture too deep into his own mind. Whatever it was couldn’t possibly matter. Not at the expense of the patchwork hc called a soul. To acknowledge it would be to acknowledge the wreckage churning amid his sinews and bones. Things that keep him awake, tossing and turning at night. It was akin to unraveling. Suicide.
Shen Qingqiu does not go there. No— he would sooner raze this beloved sect to the ground than lift a finger to end his life. It was not worth it. It never was. He will continue this charade for as long as it takes Yue Qi to come back to him. Shen Qingqiu never did learn how to give up on the things he wanted. And he won't start now. Not when it had gotten him this far. He was a machine perpetually fuelled by spite and rage and jealousy and everything he ever needed to survive, he had neither the ability nor inclination to pull the plug. What else would be left of him then?
Shen Qingqiu isn’t sure what made his skin crawl, but there is one thing he was sure of: he hates the boy. Could not stand the mere sight of him.
