Confession, idk what dn stands for so I went with "discord name" no one @ me
... Tbh I would definitely not read this fic lol. Though that first line would be baller enough I might try
... Tbh I would definitely not read this fic lol. Though that first line would be baller enough I might try
https://twitter.com/jihyeonloml/status/1612808443852910592
Ok wait actually, I'm thinking about how this might work... And I'm thinking #QiJiu
Yue Qingyuan keeps a diary. He has since the moment he got out of the Ling Xi caves and he realized his memory had been affected. No one else noticed, and he hadn't forgotten the IMPORTANT thing
Yue Qingyuan keeps a diary. He has since the moment he got out of the Ling Xi caves and he realized his memory had been affected. No one else noticed, and he hadn't forgotten the IMPORTANT thing
But he started having trouble remembering the smaller things. Like the time, or meetings he was meant to attend, or letters he was supposed to read. The names of towns along the road.
Small stuff. Things he could manage, but that he'd find himself forgetting nevertheless.
Small stuff. Things he could manage, but that he'd find himself forgetting nevertheless.
So he wrote a diary. Kept a small sheaf of paper bound with red cord inside his robes, close to his heart. To remember with.
Qian Cao said his meridians were a mess, especially around his kidneys. YQY didn't know exactly what that meant, other than what he was told
Qian Cao said his meridians were a mess, especially around his kidneys. YQY didn't know exactly what that meant, other than what he was told
and he'd only been told that he could expect for his memory problems to lessen if he was treated correctly. Then they stuck needles in his back asking his spine, and made him lay there, immobile, for 3 days.
The lord of Qian Cao personally saw to him, and it was all YQY could do
The lord of Qian Cao personally saw to him, and it was all YQY could do
to not shake and shout until they pulled those needles out of him and let him Go Back-
He wasn't convinced he didn't, actually. It's hard to remember.
So, the book.
It wasn't really a book, didn't start as one. At first it was just a few small papers crinkled into his sleeves.
He wasn't convinced he didn't, actually. It's hard to remember.
So, the book.
It wasn't really a book, didn't start as one. At first it was just a few small papers crinkled into his sleeves.
It started with his prescription. Support Center Qi pills in the early morning to boost his deficient yang, a Rehmannia Six Pill at midday taken along with plain tea mixed with hibiscus buds, and Emperor's Tea at night to make him sleep.
There was a lot he had to remember, from
There was a lot he had to remember, from
times to take it and the steps to brew successfully. In the end, he had to return in a daze to beg the Master of QC to write it down for him. He stashed the notes in the pouch he kept hidden in his sleeves--an old habit he was unable to unlearn from the days he had nothing
except the things he could carry on him. And Xiao Jiu.
But now, he had many things. Except for Xiao Jiu by his side.
As soon as he was physically capable of leaving, Xuan Su bound carefully in its sheathe lest it react to his roiling emotions and think to release itself and his
But now, he had many things. Except for Xiao Jiu by his side.
As soon as he was physically capable of leaving, Xuan Su bound carefully in its sheathe lest it react to his roiling emotions and think to release itself and his
life with it, YQY fled from the shadow of Cang Qiong so that no one could stop him.
The roads back to the town the Qiu manor existed in were foreign to him. Even though he'd seared every step from it into his heart... He forgot.
So he had to ask directions from the places he
The roads back to the town the Qiu manor existed in were foreign to him. Even though he'd seared every step from it into his heart... He forgot.
So he had to ask directions from the places he
passed by, and had to write them down on the back of the notes for his medicine. And then he had to beg for more paper and more charcoal to write with, from the people he met. Lucky he didn't have to eat, not really, but he did have to sleep.
He was begging again, this time
He was begging again, this time
dressed well, but a begger still. It stung and burned in the back of his neck, prickling at his skin, and his mouth always felt dry these days. Voice cracking with the dryness of his throat, and he woke to sweat-soaked robes in the mornings after poor sleep. Ever since the caves.
(I suckered myself into writing this lol, I'm invested now, so I'll continue tomorrow)
And then, after days of this, weeks (because he was too afraid to fly like a real cultivator, too afraid to use the power he sold his soul to because, really, Yue Qi was nothing but a coward and he knew it, Xiao Jiu had said it enough times to beat it into his dull head) he
finally made it to the town he'd grown up in. Where the streets felt familiar in places deep in the shadows and around the chutney from markets. But he lost his way here too, unable to remember the way to the Qiu manor, until he'd stopped a pick pocket trying to steal his coin.
"Tell me." he smiled, holding the child's wrist. He was careful not to grip tightly, afraid it would hurt the kid, he wasn't angry after all and he knew it was terrifying enough to be caught at all. "Tell me where the Qiu manor is, and I'll pay you."
The kid jumped to his order
The kid jumped to his order
and delivered him to the street in question speedily. Then as promised, he paid the urchin. Too much, probably, but he didn't have need of it, not really. He'd pay his soul again if it meant getting to Xiao Jiu...
The child took off in a hurry, and Yue Qi walked the quiet street
The child took off in a hurry, and Yue Qi walked the quiet street
and something churned in his gut the further he walked. Where was the life here? He thought to himself.
Where are the servants bustling around at the behest of the lord of the place. Where was...
A wet cry tore itself from his throat before he even realized what he'd found.
Where are the servants bustling around at the behest of the lord of the place. Where was...
A wet cry tore itself from his throat before he even realized what he'd found.
There was nothing here. There was no one.
There was only a heap of rubble. Burnt and blackened by fire until each part of it was indistinguishable from the next, and only the barest trace of the bones of the house could be made out.
How long- how late was he? YQ fell to his
There was only a heap of rubble. Burnt and blackened by fire until each part of it was indistinguishable from the next, and only the barest trace of the bones of the house could be made out.
How long- how late was he? YQ fell to his
knees and wept bitterly. After all that... After breaking his back, and tearing the nails from his hands, after he bled and sweat and churned up his cultivation to get anywhere at all...
After all that, he'd been too late. Too useless. Too much of a coward to leave earlier.
After all that, he'd been too late. Too useless. Too much of a coward to leave earlier.
Too greedy to want Xiao Jiu to be impressed with him and what he'd learned at a Great Sect.
And now look at him. He had centuries ahead of him, he was young even for a cultivator of his ability... But he already had no more reason to live.
But he had the duty that shackled him,
And now look at him. He had centuries ahead of him, he was young even for a cultivator of his ability... But he already had no more reason to live.
But he had the duty that shackled him,
he would always have that duty to bind him. So Yue Qi turned his back on the burnt Qiu manor, and wrote of how his heart wept in his chest amongst all the notes of his failures. This would just be another.
It seemed fitting, he thought later, once he returned to Qiong Ding,
It seemed fitting, he thought later, once he returned to Qiong Ding,
and submitted himself to his shizun's discipline, that his mistakes and failures be bound as he was. With needle and thread he pierced the folds of the pages, and sewed them together. His medicine, the directions, the little things he'd been desperate to remember, and proof he'd
been too late to be of use to anyone. The red thread felt like it had been dyed in the bloody years he wanted to cry, instead of pasting on that hollow, kind smile he'd always used to keep anyone from asking why he trained as if a demon was on his heels...
No one asked though.
No one asked though.
He was smiling, after all, what could possibly be wrong? Who could have thought their future Sect leader no longer had any heart at all?
The years passed this way, and he'd cemented his place in Cang Qiong as rightful successor of the head ship of the sect by subduing a heavenly
The years passed this way, and he'd cemented his place in Cang Qiong as rightful successor of the head ship of the sect by subduing a heavenly
demon alongside Huan Hua Palace and the other two great sects.
And then he was due for the final Immortal Alliance Conference he was of age to participate in. As much as his fellow disciples wanted him to win, had bet on it even, he couldn't bring himself to care. His promises
And then he was due for the final Immortal Alliance Conference he was of age to participate in. As much as his fellow disciples wanted him to win, had bet on it even, he couldn't bring himself to care. His promises
rang hollow as they fell from his lips, as sweet as honey and as ready to fall apart as a dream the moment someone tried to look at it too hard. Perhaps he ought to be glad no one looked at him too hard anymore.
And then everything changed. Life filled him and his senses
And then everything changed. Life filled him and his senses
sharpened, the world felt alive once more, and Xiao Jiu was before him holding a shoddy, bloody sword with his whole body telegraphing his glare. And Yue Qi was no longer a dead man living in a dream of nothing.
Even this hatred was worth it, as long as Xiao Jiu- as long as
Even this hatred was worth it, as long as Xiao Jiu- as long as
Jiu-xiong was alive enough to hate him, then Yue Qi could be nothing but alive enough to be hated.
His third book burned beneath his robes, over his heart. He'd sewn in a special pocket into each of his inner robes so he could keep his failures of memory close.
His third book burned beneath his robes, over his heart. He'd sewn in a special pocket into each of his inner robes so he could keep his failures of memory close.
Each book began with his medicine routine, which had not grown any lighter than the day it was forced on him, and which he could not reliably remember in full every day. Each book was bound exactly the same as the first
40 pages. Red thread. A stick of charcoal stuck at the end.
40 pages. Red thread. A stick of charcoal stuck at the end.
(stopping for a bit. But next up is SJ pov! And a time slip. They'll have been at the start of SV, but instead of SY transmigrating after SJ's qi deviation... The body swap part of the au will show up)
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