[open post] NEW USER: Shang Qinghua

[greatmasterairplane]

Look, this clearly isn't Proud Immortal Demon Way. Shang Qinghua might not remember all the details of what he wrote—that's what his most devoted fans are for, to point out inconsistencies in the comments section so Shang Qinghua can bullshit some mystical explanation, hahaha—but he's sure he didn't write this Western-style mansion. The System, when he tries to question it, is silent. So maybe it's some kind of test?

If so, not fair! Arranging the invasion of the Immortal Alliance Conference was supposed to be his last thing. The original Shang Qinghua died shortly after that, so how much plot relevance could he have?? He was meant to be retired, living life in the lap of luxury (or drudgery in the employ of his king, but whatever). Why doesn't the System just reward him for all his many years of loyal service? Can they have a "being hand-fed melon seeds by a group of big scantily-clad men" event, please???

He skims through the welcome table materials. Okay, so a world between dimensions, people pulled in from disparate worlds and trapped for eternity, sure. Classic stuff. His king is bound to show up at some point and drag Shang Qinghua away by his collar like a tiger scruffing a kitten. Until then, he'll just try to stay out of trouble.

Comments

[aflashbastard]

Crowley was about to launch into something else about a safe kitchen and a not safe kitchen — but he now pauses, considering.

“I have baijiu,” he offers.

[greatmasterairplane]

Shang Qinghua raises his eyebrows. "Does it come with company? And have you met someone named Shen Qingqiu?" He wants the gossip!

[aflashbastard]

"Sure and... yes. He asked me for weed once¹," Crowley offers. He produces a bottle of baijiu from thin air and looks around for some glasses.

¹That's not what happened at all but Crowley still doesn't know!

[greatmasterairplane]

"Did he?" Shang Qinghua laughs. "What was he like high? He's the worst drunk. He's one of those people who gets really soppy and affectionate, and he'll just start telling you how great you are, but not as great as Luo Binghe."

The conjuring baijiu is a neat trick. Shang Qinghua would love to know what genre this guy is from.

[aflashbastard]

Crowley has found two glasses¹ and is doling out two generous pours of baijiu. He hands one over. "I didn't stay. Maybe I should've. I started giving him tips on how best to smoke it and he looked mildly terrified."

¹That's how he rolls this days, half manifesting some items and half finding them the human way.

[greatmasterairplane]

Shang Qinghua shoots the baijiu. Why not? He's got nothing else to do with his day! It's strong, and the warmth hits him fast, spreading a happy looseness through his body. He's pleased to have found Cucumber-bro—not that he missed him or anything, but it was a pain to have no one to complain to when he got the Katamari theme in his head or whatever. And he's pleased to be able to spend the day in a luxurious mansion, drinking and chatting. "You must know Luo Binghe then, too."

[aflashbastard]

Crowley shrugs and shoots his own as well, if that's how they're doing it. "I do. You could say he's almost like family," he responds, looking mildly amused at his own response. He pours out two more glasses for them.

[greatmasterairplane]

"Oh?" Shang Qinghua brightens. His precious son is really making friends! Shang Qinghua didn't know he had it in him! He's so proud! "You're close, then? You know, don't tell him I said so, but he's like a son to me."

[aflashbastard]

"Like a son?" Crowley muses. Great great nephew then? Only two greats-- He shakes his head. "Are you from the same world as the two of them?"

[greatmasterairplane]

Shang Qinghua hesitates. His first instinct here had been to lie his ass off, as usual, but apparently Shen Yuan has just been going around telling everyone his name is Shen Yuan and completely blowing his own cover. No commitment to the bit at all. Shang Qinghua chugs the second glass of baijiu. "I'm from the same world as Shen Yuan. We met online, actually. Well, not really met—he left me about a thousand insane comments that I never responded to." Shang Qinghua knows better than to feed a troll.

[aflashbastard]

"Oh, never read the comments," Crowley agrees heartily, drinking his baijiu as well. "You're what? Blogger? Writer?" He looks at Shang Qinghua skeptically. "...Livejournal?"

[greatmasterairplane]

"Webnovelist. Erotica," he admits. It's probably less embarrassing than Livejournal.

[aflashbastard]

"Ah. Demon," he offers, as if he's also sharing his occupation. He slugs back the second pour of baijiu as well.

[greatmasterairplane]

Shang Qinghua had been thinking this was just a normal modern guy, but he must be a fictional character too, like Bingbing. So when the welcome sign said people were here from different worlds, it really meant it—fictional people from different genres with transmigrators like him and Cucumber-bro, all mixed together like some fucked up Big Brother house.

"Is that, like, okay? Are you cool with it?" He's thinking of Binghe's self-hating internalized demonphobia. That Shang Qinghua gave him. Oh, he doesn't like thinking of himself being responsible for Binghe's problems. Erase, erase!

[aflashbastard]

Is he cool with being a demon? Nobody’s really asked Crowley that question before. He wasn’t really given a choice; asked the wrong questions, hung out with the wrong crowd — and goodbye Pearly Gates, hello Hell.

“If I was okay with it, would I be here chugging baijiu?” Crowley asks dryly (he is chugging his baijiu a little). “Aside from having a permanent existential crisis… it’s alright.”

[greatmasterairplane]

Shang Qinghua nods. This is all familiar. This guy must have an author who gave him as raw of a deal as Shang Qinghua gave Binghe. "You don't have to tell me about existential crises. When I was twenty-four, I had to start all over again as a baby." He gestures with his empty glass. "One more for the road?"

[aflashbastard]

"Huh. That's different," Crowley says, pouring them both another round of baijiu. "Kind of a second chance at life?"

[greatmasterairplane]

"Kind of, yeah. I think I died, like, I spilled noodles on my keyboard and I think I was electrocuted? And then I woke up as a baby in a different world. It was pretty fucked up, I had to pretend to be a normal baby so my new parents wouldn't get freaked out. But if you think about it, doesn't that mean I was just some adult stranger impersonating their baby? So where did their actual baby go?" He definitely needs more baijiu to think about it. He sips the glass, at least slowing down a little.

[aflashbastard]

"That's really messed up," Crowley says, impressed. "I lost a baby once."

[greatmasterairplane]

"Whoa." That's really messed up too. "Your own?" Shang Qinghua can't judge. His only child is Luo Binghe, and look how that turned out.

[aflashbastard]

"No, no, don't be ridiculous." Crowley waves off such a silly suggestion. "The Antichrist."

[greatmasterairplane]

"Oh, sure. You did say you were a demon." Shang Qinghua squints at him. "Did you, um. Find him?"

[aflashbastard]

"Oh yeah," Crowley says, taking a sip of his baijiu. "Eventually." He pauses. "Eleven years later."

[greatmasterairplane]

"Damn!" Shang Qinghua is invested. "Where was he?"

[aflashbastard]

"Well, there were three babies involved in the whole ordeal," Crowley begins, the baijiu and Shang Qinghua's interest inspiring a switch to story-telling mode. "The Satanic nuns and I were running kind of a... baby shell game with the three of them. We wanted the Antichrist to end up with the American attaché -- but something got mixed up. It took us eleven years to realize the child we were raising¹ wasn't the Antichrist. And then you know where we ended up finding him, after a mad scramble? Living under our noses in Lower Tadfield, right where he was born."

¹We were raising sounds so domestic, Crowley.