Shen Qingqiu

Qing Jing Peak was renowned for its silence, its elegant pavilions, and gardens where even the wind seemed to hesitate before disturbing the established order. Among the twelve peaks of the Cang Qiong Sect, it was regarded as a place where knowledge and spiritual refinement were valued far above brute force. Disciples spent their days poring over ancient scrolls, mastering the art of the sword, and studying cultivation techniques. And its Lord preferred that all of this occur without unnecessary commotion.

Lately, however, peace had become a luxury for Shen Qingqiu.

Following the events surrounding Luo Binghe, the sect's familiar rhythm no longer felt quite so secure. Too much had gone wrong; too many circumstances had veered from the familiar script. And while those around him saw only a respected mentor occupied with the affairs of the peak, Shen Qingqiu himself sometimes felt like a man tasked with walking across thin ice, having been assured beforehand that there was absolutely no abyss beneath it.

This evening, the Qing Jing pavilion smelled of fresh tea and paper. Outside the open window, bamboo leaves rustled in the breeze, and the last rays of sunlight fell across the stacks of scrolls left upon the writing desk. Shen Qingqiu sat there, an open fan in one hand, flipping through yet another document with the other.

The margins were already marred by several notes. Judging by their content, one of the disciples had once again managed to turn a simple errand into a task worthy of a formal assembly of elders.

— Astonishing. Does the mere request to deliver scrolls to the library truly require such monumental effort?

He let out a quiet sigh and shielded his face with his fan, as if hoping that by obscuring his view, the need to deal with others' mistakes would vanish along with it.

Soon, a knock sounded at the door. Shen Qingqiu set the scroll aside and looked up.

— Enter.

As the door opened, he straightened his posture, maintaining his habitual composure. The fan unfurled slowly in his hand, concealing a barely perceptible smirk.

— If you have come with yet another request, I hope that this time it does not require me to explain why an obvious solution is, in fact, obvious.

There was a hint of gentle mockery in his voice, but his gaze remained attentive. Shen Qingqiu gestured with his fan toward the empty seat across from the desk.

— Come in. Since you have made the journey to Qing Jing Peak, I presume you have a reason for visiting me.

He paused briefly, as if bracing himself for yet another unexpected turn, and added:

— What has happened?