Curate, connect, and discover
I absolutely love this! (≧▽≦)
The disciples of Qing Jing Peak weren’t stupid.
They were scholars in training, trained from the moment they had donned their peak’s colors to analyze the world around them. To see every flawless line in a painting. To find deeper meaning in every poem. To pick out each and every note flowing from a qin. They knew how to look, how to listen, how to see under the surface and find deeper meaning without letting their own preconceived notions distract them from what was truly there.
So it was really no wonder that they of all people were the only ones to realize their Shizun was different.
Oh on the outside he was largely unchanged. Still the same careful mask. Still the flowing robes and perfectly arranged hair. Still the ever present fans hiding all but his too sharp eyes.
But they knew how to look deeper.
They knew how to see.
Their new Shizun was a gentler soul than their old one.
It could be seen in the tightness around his eyes whenever one of them got hurt. It could be seen in fleeting smiles his fan wasn’t fast enough to cover when they did something he found amusing or adorable. It could be seen in the rarely granted head pats and gentle praise when one of them did well. His hands were always kind when they corrected sword forms or placements on the strings of a qin. His voice full of warmth as he lectured in front of their classes. His eyes danced with amusement when he teased them with such fondness that they never felt the sting of his words.
He was nothing like their old Shizun.
(And oh how some of them mourned their old teacher. How they pressed wet faces into pillows late in the night and wept silent tears for the man who still walked among them but was someone else entirely. Others spent those long dark nights battling relief and guilt in equal measures, feeling like they were betraying the man who had brought them in to their new home by being grateful they didn’t have to suffer his harshness any longer.
One boy played in a room of the bamboo house and vowed night after night that this new Shizun would have his loyalty at each and every turn.)
Changed as he was he was still theirs.
They had been there, after all, the day he had thrown himself in front of Luo Binghe and been poisoned with Without A Cure. They had been there when he caught one of the shimei’s crying because she missed her home and hugged her, cooing to her like a father to a beloved daughter. They had been there in a million other times when he had chosen them, so really it was only fair that they chose him in return.
Luo Binghe was glad to do most of the day to day care for their Shizun, cooking his meals and cleaning his home, but the rest of them were far from idle.
They trained harder, raising their cultivation levels at speeds unheard of to be strong enough to protect him. They weaved careful coverups and fed clever explanations to him whenever he seemed confused by something mundane. They returned his affection a hundredfold whenever they could get away with it, clinging to his sleeves and pressing against his sides like eager kittens vying for attention whenever he looked lonely.
They also kept a close eye on anyone who seemed too… interested in their beloved teacher, closing ranks and playing interference whether that person was an older disciple of another peak, a Peak Lord, or even the Sect Leader himself.
Their Shizun was not the man he once was, but this new man had chosen them from the very first day he had arrived on their peak. They, as devoted disciples, chose him back each and every day.