The only place they could flee was back to Cang Qiong Mountain. Leading Luo Binghe by the hand, Shen Qingqiu started up the long mountain steps.
The man sweeping the stairs did his work as diligently and earnestly as he always had during his ten-some years. As Shen Qingqiu strolled up, their eyes met, and he gave the man a faint smile. Shen Qingqiu was about to greet him when the man looked at him, then at Luo Binghe holding his hand, and his face twitched.
All of a sudden, he tossed aside the broom that was as tall as he was and sprinted up the steps like his rear end was on fire. In a flash, he was hundreds of steps away, and in addition to shock, Shen Qingqiu felt a sense of pride. That was Cang Qiong Mountain for you—even the stair sweeper was a hidden master!
The stairway was lengthy, and before they had gone halfway up, Luo Binghe began to yawn. He was low on strength at present, so it was unavoidable that he grew tired easily. Shen Qingqiu picked him up. “Get some sleep.”
Getting a read on a disciple’s heart was like finding the proverbial needle in a haystack. Sometimes Luo Binghe was willing to be picked up, but sometimes his entire face would go red and he would struggle out of Shen Qingqiu’s hold, preferring to walk himself. Now he was probably truly exhausted. He curled up in Shen Qingqiu’s arms, shut his eyes for a while, and just like that, fell asleep.
Once he’d climbed the Heaven-Ascending Stairs, Shen Qingqiu sensed strange gazes directed at him as soon as he stepped into the main plaza, and he heard a surge of whispering from all around. The stair sweeper started down again, hugging his broom, and gave him an especially strange look on the way.
Shen Qingqiu walked up to Qing Jing Peak, holding Luo Binghe. At the doorway of the Bamboo House, all his disciples rushed over in a frenzy.
As soon as Ming Fan saw Luo Binghe curled up in Shen Qingqiu’s arms, he looked as if he had been punched in the solar plexus or struck by lightning. While the others fought their way forward to look, he staggered back.
Ning Yingying shoved aside the people in front of her, stared at Luo Binghe deep asleep in Shen Qingqiu’s arms, and covered her mouth. “He looks like A-Luo… He looks like A-Luo!”
Nonsense. If he didn’t look like Luo Binghe, who else would he look like?
Ning Yingying grabbed Shen Qingqiu’s sleeves in excitement. “Shizun, does he have a name? Did you name him yet?”
Shen Qingqiu was perplexed.
“If he doesn’t have a name, I…can I give him one?”
What the hell.
Luo Binghe shifted restlessly in his arms and mumbled, “Loud.”
Shen Qingqiu raised his folding fan threateningly in midair, then jerked it back and made a shush gesture.
Then the door of the Bamboo House came crashing down. Luo Binghe jerked and opened his eyes, startled awake.
Liu Qingge strode in like a flying meteor. Shen Qingqiu sent a death glare at the furtive-looking Ming Fan, shifted Luo Binghe behind him, and gave Liu Qingge a fake smile. “Liu-shidi, long time no see.”
“What are you hiding for?” Liu Qingge snapped.
“Hiding what?” Shen Qingqiu replied. “I’m not hiding.”
Luo Binghe planted a hand on Shen Qingqiu’s chest. “There’s no need to hide—I’m not afraid of him!”
Liu Qingge walked over and glared down at the challenge written all over Luo Binghe’s little face. After a long time, he managed to stammer out, as if he was forcibly suppressing some emotion, “You—when did you…and Luo Binghe… When did you and he…”
“When did we…?”
When did they what? What had they done?
Liu Qingge seemed to find it difficult to speak, so Ming Fan cried out in his place, “When did you have a son with him? He’s so big!”
Silence.
“Great Master” Liu! Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky didn’t write a green Jinjiang mpreg novel!
After very impolitely blasting “Great Master” Liu off Qing Jing Peak, Shen Qingqiu still felt like he was numb from a particularly electric shock. “How can a man give birth to a child?”
Having been told the true sequence of events, Ning Yingying now knew that the child Shen Qingqiu had carried back wasn’t his own baby. She was greatly disappointed, and she felt that her heart, full of passion and the fifty-some names she’d come up with, had gone to waste. “It was the stair sweeper gege who went around telling everyone,” she said, pouting. “We all assumed it was true. Who could have thought A-Luo could also suffer a qi deviation?”
Stair sweeper, how talented. Not only are you fast, your galaxy brain-level delusions are also so unique! Shen Qingqiu will remember this.
“This disciple thought that when it came to the demon race, making a man give birth to a child wouldn’t be outside the realm of possibility,” Ming Fan said awkwardly.
Everyone vigorously nodded.
Shen Qingqiu suffered even further mental collapse as he attempted to argue for logic. “Even if I did, a kid wouldn’t have grown this big in a few short months!”
“Who knows?” Ming Fan said. “We disciples thought that if it was that monster Luo Binghe’s child, it wouldn’t be impossible for a kid to be that big when even they were born.”
Shen Qingqiu was speechless.
That night, Qing Jing Peak’s long-abandoned mass book-copying punishments made a grand reappearance.
It was a rare occasion that Shen Qingqiu managed to make time to return to Cang Qiong Mountain while the twelve peak lords were all in one place. Naturally, they had to get together for a meeting or a meal.
It had been a long time since Shen Qingqiu had sat, doing his poser act, in the second chair of the rear hall of Qiong Ding Hall. He missed the sensation.
He nodded at and greeted the peak lords one by one, exchanging a series of “It’s been a long times,” “I hope you’ve been wells,” and “Same to yous”; he snapped open his fan, face brimming with joy.
Yue Qingyuan’s expression seemed to be a bit strange when he saw Shen Qingqiu, but he didn’t say anything much. He just sat down at the head seat, smiled at him, and then placed a stack of files on the table. Shang Qinghua scurried up to collect and distribute them to everyone else.
Shen Qingqiu accepted the list from Shang Qinghua, but first gave him a cursory glance. There was no telling what Shang Qinghua had done to piss off Mobei-Jun this time, but the corner of his lip was swelling as he gave Shen Qingqiu a pathetic smile. Shen Qingqiu couldn’t bear to look, so he shifted his gaze back to the file. The key points of discussion had already been marked in bold cinnabar red.
With the first glance, the sip of tea he had just drunk spewed out of his mouth.
First, aggressively restrict access to copies of Regret of Chunshan, Song of Bingqiu, etc. Forbid the distribution of any edition on any occasion, whether public or private. Set a one-month deadline for copies to be turned over, after which anyone found to be in possession of or circulating copies will be severely punished. Punishment shall be increased by one level for illustrations.
Second, because of numerous complaints, the relevant leadership of Bai Zhan Peak shall tighten their supervision. Inter-peak brawls are strictly prohibited.
Third, because of a small number of complaints, Qing Jing Peak shall take note of the time when practicing the qin; please avoid the noon break and night times.
Fourth, Xian Shu Peak requests permission to fortify and increase the height of their fences, and petitions for their fences to be electrified.
Fifth, Ku Xing Peak’s numbers have dwindled over the years, and they request permission to increase their recruitment efforts. They petition for first rights to select new disciples the next time the mountain gates are opened.
Sixth, the peak lords must increase attention to education on each peak. Sect members must not fight publicly with Huan Hua Palace disciples while identified as Cang Qiong Mountain disciples.
Seventh, if demons are encountered while carrying out missions, do not rashly attack. Make sure to ascertain their lineage and affiliated division before deciding whether to fight.
Spitting out one’s tea in front of everyone was extremely improper behavior, but Shen Qingqiu didn’t need to worry about this failure of etiquette, because after reading the first item on the agenda, most of the other peak lords also spat out their tea. Given his surroundings, he didn’t stand out very much.
The meeting room sank into an awkward confusion. Even if Shen Qingqiu fanned hard enough to raise the wind and waves, he failed to fan away the miasma.