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The last thing Shen Jiu expected out of the meeting with Mount Hua was to see yet another unpleasant reminder of his past. While zhangmen-shixiong left Shen Jiu behind — as was his habit — to speak with Mount Hua’s sect leader privately, Shen Jiu stumbled upon a familiar face loitering outside.
His expression twisted in displeasure as he came to a stop. “Cho Sam.”
The man in question was leaning against the wall, his head leaning back as he stared blankly at the sky. When Shen Jiu spoke, he blinked himself back into awareness, tilting his head to the side as he stared, equally as blankly, at Shen Jiu’s face.
“Do I know you?”
Shen Jiu scoffed, snapping his fan open. Of course. What else had he been expecting? What former slave would react to their past name? He’s always complained about Qi-ge calling him “Xiao Jiu” still, and yet, the first time he met someone from the old cohort, he was no better!
“At least you’re smarter than Qi-ge,” Shen Jiu muttered under his breath, fully intending to leave and forget he ever saw Cho Sam again. If the man wanted to cut the ties, Shen Jiu should honour his choice-
But it seemed less like a deliberate snub and more like genuine forgetfulness when Cho Sam snapped to attention.
“No way!” He bounced up to him with a wide, unhinged grin. Definitely Cho Sam. “Xiao Jiu?”
Instantly incensed, Shen Jiu slammed his fan on top of Cho Sam’s head. “Who are you calling Xiao, huh?! I’m older than you!”
Cho Sam stuck his tongue out at him, deftly avoiding the strike. “But I’ve got the higher number!”
“Only because you were traded in when you bit the hell out of Shi-San! That doesn’t mean shit!”
“Does too!”
Inhaling sharply, Shen Jiu stopped himself before descending into an endless loop of “does not - does too”. They did that often, back when they were with the slavers, and often had to be broken up either by Qi-ge’s patient coaxing or the slavers’ unceremonious punches.
Come to think, that was one of the reasons why Cho Sam was nowhere near when the whole Qiu Jianluo mess happened. At that point, the slavers attempted to keep them pacified by putting Shen Jiu and Cho Sam as far away as possible, since beggars who argued with each other rarely brought anything back.
Now, Cho Sam never really brought anything back whether he was with someone or alone, but that was a different problem, and one Shen Jiu did not have to deal with. Cho Sam spending all the money he got on buying sweets was all the better for Shen Jiu, since not only was he the highest earner, but he could steal the sweets sometimes, too.
“Well, I don’t really go by the number anymore,” Cho Sam broke the tense silence, putting his hands behind his head as he pushed his chest out proudly. “I’m Cheong Myeong! Mount Hua’s Plum Blossom Sword Saint!”
Of course Cho Sam managed to get famous, too. Both him and Yue Qingyuan got hailed as martial geniuses; Was Shen Jiu the only one who didn’t make a name for himself?
Speaking of names, though- “Two generational names stuck together? I see whoever named you rose to the heights of creativity.”
Cho Sam — no, Cheong Myeong, Shen Jiu had to get used to that name — did that stupid expression of his, where he simultaneously pouted and glared.
“It’s a good name!” He argued hotly. “What, like you’ve got any better?”
Shen Jiu straightened himself out fully to show off every single one of his hard-earned inches. He was one of the smaller Peak Lords but, thankfully, Cheong Myeong was even shorter.
“Shen Qingqiu,” he said, infusing as much pride as he could. “Peak Lord of Qing Jing.”
Cheong Myeong stared at him intently for a moment. “Sahyeong is gonna be annoying about this,” he muttered. “Peak Lord- that’s what, exactly? Like a mini-sect leader or what?”
…Oh, of course. Cho Sam had never been one for politics, always preferring to just bite straight into the meat of things (or, more literally, the people who had the misfortune of going against him). It would stand to reason that he wouldn’t know the intricacies of other sects’ hierarchies, not without an immediate reason for it.
“The twelve Peak Lords are meant to lead together, but Zhangmen-shixiong is the equivalent of a sect leader in the understanding of outsiders. Qing Jing, as the second-highest peak, is responsible for strategy.”
That earned him a dubious look. “You’re supposed to strategize? Wouldn’t that require you to not insult the people you’re speaking with?”
“I am capable of having a civil conversation.”
“...”
“You-!”
Cheong Myeong laughed, parring Shen Jiu’s fan with the pommel of his sword. “So. Qingqiu. Qing’s the generation part, isn’t it? And Qiu… It’s funny, wasn’t there a Qiu Manor back in that last town?”
Shan Jiu scowled, stepping back. Pure Cho Sam; Poking straight into the heart of a bruise.
“Ah.” The sword dropped back, and Cheong Myeong nodded knowingly. “I take it the rumour that you got bought by the Qiu young master…?”
“Rumour?” Shen Jiu repeated, incredulous. “There’s been like half the cohort there at the time-!”
“Well, they weren’t really keen to talk about it.” Cheong Myeong shrugged, sliding down the wall to sit on the ground. He patted the spot next to him and, after a moment of hesitation, Shen Jiu kneeled next to him. “All we knew was that you were gone, then Qi-ge disappeared the next night, and the slavers decided to skip the town even though there was still plenty of suckers to rip off. That’s how I ended up in Mount Hua, actually; They were in such a hurry, we ran straight into a group of disciples. They took offense at the slavers - Taoists, you know how they are. Sahyoung appreciated my contribution to the fight enough to take me in, and I’ve been here ever since.”
“How lucky.” Had everyone profited off of Shen Jiu’s misfortune?
“So? What happened with you?”
The last thing Shen Jiu wanted to do was recount his life’s story, but if Cheong Myeong was anything like Cho Sam, he’d not stop asking until his curiosity was sated. So he settled on being as curt as possible. “Got sold to Qiu Jianluo. Killed him. Got picked by a demonic cultivator. Killed him. Got accepted into Cang Qiong. Ascended to Peak Lord. Didn’t kill anyone there yet.”
Cheong Myeong was nodding along as he spoke. “Sounds like you did pretty good in life, too.”
…two murders constituted “pretty good” in Cheong Myeong’s evaluation?
The doors to the nearby room opened before the conversation could continue, Qi-ge and Mount Hua’s sect leader exiting. They seemed to be in an amiable mood… At least until they spotted Shen Jiu sitting with Cheong Myeong.
Qi-ge seemed dumbfounded and apprehensive. The Mount Hua leader seemed exasperated. Shen Jiu did not appreciate either of these reactions.
“Right,” Cheong Myeong clambered to his feet, grabbing his sword. “I have a bone to pick with you, asshole-”
Shen Jiu jumped to his feet too, just as the Mount Hua sect leader stepped in front of Qi-ge, bowing to him slightly.
“Please, don’t mind my foolish sajae,” he was saying. “He speaks nonsense sometimes. Cheong Myeong, shut up-”
“No! No one’s going to be making Xiao Jiu miserable on my watch-!”
“...Xiao Jiu?”
“Idiot!” Shen Jiu grabbed Cheong Myeong’s arm. “Whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong! That’s Qi-ge, don’t you recognize him?”
Cheong Myeong paused, scrutinizing Qi-ge’s usual smiling expression for a moment.
“Huh… Right. That smile does piss me off the same.” Was his verdict. “I thought he might be next on your to-do list.”
Shen Jiu rolled his eyes, hard. If he had wanted to kill a fellow Peak Lord, he would have done it before they ascended!
“I’m sorry,” Qi-ge said, his favourite phrase sounding far less sincere. “Have we met?”
“You don’t have to pretend. He hasn’t changed all that much.” But Qi-ge still appeared rather lost. “Shi-San’s replacement?” Shen Jiu narrowed his eyes. “Do you… Honestly not remember?”
“I’m not surprised,” Cheong Myeong said. “He’s only ever paid attention to you, Jiu-ah, and then whoever you were fighting with at the moment.” Then, uncaring of the way that comment left Shen Jiu reeling, he turned towards the Mount Hua sect leader. “They left the group shortly before we met, sahyoung!”
“I see.” The sect leader was taking it all better than Shen Jiu expected. He just found out two of Cang Qiong’s Peak Lords used to be slaves, and he was yet to send them a single disdainful look over it! “I am glad to see you reunite with your old friends, then.”
“If I may,” Qi-ge said carefully, still appearing unsure of who, exactly, Cheong Myeong was supposed to be. “What did you mean by saying that you wouldn’t allow Xi- Shen-shidi to be miserable?”
“Well, it’s not like he’s happy right now, is he?”
And with that lovely line, the attention shifted to Shen Jiu, who only narrowly stopped himself from shuffling uncomfortably. The worst part was that Cheong Myeong wasn’t technically wrong. What reason did Shen Jiu have to be happy? He was hated by his martial siblings, his reputation was growing worse by the day whether he deserved it or not and, worst of all, Qi-ge refused to tell him what Shen Jiu had done to deserve being abandoned! At least if he knew, he could make sure it never happened again- Ah, pointless musings. It was clear Qi-ge didn’t care for him like he used to, no matter what Shen Jiu would do.
He hesitated for a little too long, his silence already providing an answer. Regardless- “Being a Peak Lord is undoubtedly better than being out on the streets.”
Qi-ge’s expression fell at that, for some reason.
What followed was a beat of silence, growing more uncomfortable by the second, eventually broken by the grumbling of Cheong Myeong’s stomach.
"Ah, that reminds me," the Mount Hua sect leader said. “We’ve prepared some refreshments, if you'd like...”
Shen Jiu didn’t even get the time to refuse the offer — it was rarely a good idea to accept food or drink from a sect they were negotiating with, too much of a poisoning risk — before Cheong Myeong grabbed him by the arm.
“We’ve got the best mooncakes!” He claimed excitedly, already dragging Shen Jiu along.
It would have been best to rip his arm out and storm away, not letting himself be manipulated right before the talks, but… Well. Cheong Myeong’s tastes ran very close to Shen Jiu’s when it came to sweets. A little indulgence wouldn’t hurt, would it?