[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

[greatmasterairplane]

Shang Qinghua has read Hamlet, but as he's not thinking about it right now, he does not make the connection. But Claudius looks European. "Have you ever had warm rice wine?" He takes the dahlia and tucks it behind his ear.

[wickedwit]

Oh, that dahlia is very charming there. Claudius doesn't hide his admiration, taking in Shang Qinghua's face and the fall of his hair, before depositing the rest of the dahlias in a vase. "You know, I don't believe I have," he says. "But I do know where we might find some. Come with me."

[greatmasterairplane]

"Gladly." Shang Qinghua ventures to take Claudius' arm.

[wickedwit]

Claudius lets him, cozies up to him and holds him near -- it feels as natural as any courtly flirtation, only a little more daring because they're in a place where propriety doesn't matter. Neither does gender. He's going to file that away, if Shen Qingqiu and he ever return to their discussion about the predominance of bisexuality. "You'll find there's few things the mansion won't provide for, if you know where to look," he says, in confidential tones. "But there's a limit, without the imagination of new company. I'm quite glad to be in your company."

[greatmasterairplane]

"I'm glad to be in yours." The baijiu Shang Qinghua already drank with Crowley is affecting him; he didn't really notice until he started walking. He's not tipsy, though, just pleasantly warm and fuzzy. It gives him an excuse to cling to Claudius.

"The men I spend time with are rarely so charming. My king has me setting him up with other men." At least, Shang Qinghua thinks that's what he's supposed to be doing. Mobei-jun told him that his bed was "cold and empty" (isn't cold good for an ice demon?) and that Shang Qinghua should "take responsibility." And yet every prospective spouse or concubine Shang Qinghua has found has only seemed to anger him! So spoiled and temperamental!

[wickedwit]

Claudius laughs at that, enjoying having a pretty man cling to his arm and speak what sounds like familiar gossip. My king could be any king, of any country, and it would take the same scurrilous tone. "Oh, do tell. Even when there's a face as pleasing as yours in front of him?"

[greatmasterairplane]

"I know, right?" Shang Qinghua says cheerfully. "He's utterly spoiled. You know—he was the little princeling who was never denied anything. Doesn't know how to ask nicely, either." There may be some exasperation in his voice, but no malice.

[wickedwit]

"Princes," he laughs. "We're never raised to be nice, even when we're charming. It sounds like you've seen sparks of charm behind those spoiled demands, though."

[greatmasterairplane]

Well, Shang Qinghua did not know Claudius was royalty, which already speaks to better manners than Mobei-jun. "Where there's beauty there's always some charm, despite everything," he admits. "You know that—you must have met Luo Binghe."

[wickedwit]

"Oh, I've met Luo Binghe," Claudius says, with eyebrows raised. At once, he is paying far closer attention to Shang Qinghua, closer than the casual and pleasant attention to a pretty face -- but he keeps his voice light. "His first day here, in fact. Are you well-acquainted?"

[greatmasterairplane]

"Ah, well." Is he well-acquainted with Luo Binghe? He thought so, but apparently Binghe had a whole sexuality he didn't even know about! It's probably best to keep things vague, in case he ends up being held responsible for whatever his terrible son has done while he's been here, even though Shang Qinghua would kind of like to brag about his literal only success in either lifetime. "My king is the demon lord of the north. He works for Luo Binghe, and I work for him, so Luo Binghe and I are not on close terms. I'd be surprised if he could even put a name to my face—but of course I know him." This is all true, except that Mobei-jun hasn't allied with Luo Binghe yet—but he will in another year or so.

[wickedwit]

Claudius quickly considers and discards a few options. He could carry on in tones of gossip, lean in and tell the story of their flirtation in the kitchen, or of Luo Binghe's romance with Shen Qingqiu, hinting at his personal hand in it. He could roll his eyes and complain, while trying to strike a sympathetic tone for whoever has to work for a king who works for an emperor like that. He could say they've only met a few times, which is true, and that he's not at all interesting, which is less true. He could even pretend to be friends with Luo Binghe, which he discards quickest of all. "Luo Binghe's charm," he says, "is that he's a fascinating wreck of a man. Just an absolute ruin of flaws, of self-denial and excess, of self-hatred and pride, of all the vices and vulnerabilities a man can have, from the sympathetic to the monstrous. He's unrepentant and petty yet pitiful, and his feelings are so easy to hurt. We can't stand to be anywhere near each other. But he is very beautiful, I'll grant that, and very pleasant to kiss." Fine, so he did mention the flirtation.

[greatmasterairplane]

Ahhh, that's not fair! Who could possibly fail to swoon after such an incisive and flattering critique of a character you worked hard to render! This is much more gratifying than Shen Yuan's hilariously indiscriminate praise—no author wants to hear that their character is the ultimate badass who can do no wrong, and should defeat every challenge without conflict. A fascinating wreck of a man would make Shang Qinghua's day if he'd read it in the Zhongdian comments section. He's not at all surprised to hear Luo Binghe hates this guy—and loves Shen Yuan. Shang Qinghua so wants to take credit.

"Well," he hedges. "I have—some information about him that you may find interesting. But I absolutely shouldn't tell you. If you'll find me that drink, though, who knows what I might say by accident?"

[wickedwit]

"Who knows indeed?" asks Claudius, with an appreciative look. One needn't twist Claudius's arm for him to ply a charming man with alcohol in exchange for information. By now, they've reached the room with one of the bars outfitted with the most conveniences, some of which Claudius even knows how to work, like the soda gun that shoots carbonated water or the highball machine. There's even an electric sake warmer among the accoutrements.

[greatmasterairplane]

Perhaps the baijiu is hitting Shang Qinghua harder than he thought. It's just too easy for words to appear in his brain and immediately tumble from his mouth, which explains why he immediately reaches for the sake warmer while enthusing, "Electricity! I've missed it so much!"

He's forced to drop handsome Claudius' arm while he familiarizes himself with what's behind the bar, but he quickly fills it and plugs it in (plugs! outlets!!). He sets two ceramic cups down on the bar, and then leans over it like he's tending it, resting his elbows on the bar and his face in his hands. Claudius, why is that so familiar, Shang Qinghua would surely remember if he'd seen him before—wait! "Are you Prince Claudius of Denmark?"

[wickedwit]

It’s quite satisfying to watch someone who knows what they’re doing at work, whatever they’re doing. Plugs and outlets are still quite beyond Claudius, so he takes a seat at the bar and observes with fond curiosity — until Shang Qinghua asks his question.

“Yes, from the play,” he sighs, prepared to head this off at the pass. “The one on which The Lion King is based. Yes, I’m aware that it isn’t a history play, but a fictional drama, originating in England —” Wait. England is common to many worlds, with Crowley and Nightingale both being based in London, and he knows there are translations into the French and Chinese — that’s all well and good. He’s made his peace with it. But Claudius would have bet anything those nations and their literature weren’t in the area of Luo Binghe’s fictional empire. “How do you know the play?”

[greatmasterairplane]

"Oh, you don't have to worry that I'm going to judge," Shang Qinghua says quickly. "I have nothing against villains. They're always the best characters. And, well. Shen Yuan's told everyone his name is Shen Yuan—which he never told me, actually—so I'm guessing you know he started in one world and ended up in the other. And if he's said so, then there probably won't be any consequence if I say so as well—did he mention if there were consequences?"

[wickedwit]

Claudius doesn't know a Shen Yuan, he knows a Shen -- Claudius doesn't even finish the thought before it feels too obvious. He knew Shen Qingqiu wasn't Shen Qingqiu, but somehow expected for the original name to be utterly different.

"Yes, well, I think the only time we ever talked about consequences was when we were both under the influence of a truth spell. And those were emotional consequences. He told me that he'd been forced to follow the plot of the book he was in, and that he harbored some regrets about it. But no one is forced to do the same here -- that's one of the place's charms." After a moment's pause, he adds, "However, if you encounter a jurisfiction agent named Aornis¹, don't tell her anything about changing plots or you might incriminate yourself."

¹ Ping!

[greatmasterairplane]

"He did mention that person. But I haven't changed any plots—that was all Shen Yuan, with his total inability not to pamper Luo Binghe. That's not the one here, by the way. The Luo Binghe you know is from the original story, who was meant to be terribly mistreated by Shen Qingqiu, but our Shen Qingqiu couldn't do it. Since you've met him, I doubt that surprises you. I've always done exactly what I was supposed to, not that it's gotten me anywhere." He touches the side of the sake warmer and finds it pleasingly hot. "Alright. Try this, Prince Claudius."

Shang Qinghua pours him a cup of sake, and he can't deny the little thrill he gets from it. He's used to interacting with fictional characters, but only his own, not William Shakespeare's. "So, that's how I know Shen Yuan—from being the only two people in our world who know that it's fictional. But I'm surprised you've heard of Hamlet?" Actually— "Does Luo Binghe know he's fictional?"

[wickedwit]

Claudius swirls his ceramic cup a few times to release the sweet aroma, satisfied that it works the same as with other wines. The first sip is sweet, too, but not in a way that Claudius can easily place. "It's pleasant," he says. As for the other, perhaps more troubling matter, he waves his hand. "I doubt Luo Binghe has that much self-awareness. An angel told me I was in a play, but I kept denying I was fictional for as long as it seemed feasible. I had to listen to multiple people, compare viewpoints, and reflect." He's not saying Luo Binghe can't do those things.

[greatmasterairplane]

Shang Qinghua takes his point. Luo Binghe is always going to believe his own perception over anything or anyone else. He would love to keep hearing Claudius' opinions about Binghe—very nice character meta, Mr. Hamlet Villain!—but he can ask more questions once he is plausibly drunk enough to tell Claudius he's the author. In pursuit of this goal, he pours himself a cup of sake. "So, you know you originated in a work of fiction, and so did some of the others. Forgive the presumption, but you seem an intelligent and thoughtful man." Hamlet is full of overthinkers, right? "What's your perception of what is going on here? Like, what's the point? It's more subtle than where I came from—the System that controlled our actions had a clear goal."

[wickedwit]

"Yes, there's a startling lack of clarity here," Claudius says, and proceeds to prove himself an overthinker. "It's perhaps a limitation of mine that I can only think in terms of human motivation. If we were brought here by forces too inhuman to understand, their thinking is outside of my purview¹. If it were some ineffable plan of God's, I'd likewise have to give up, because God likes to tell jokes no one else can laugh at. But I think the forces at work here have a perverse fondness for us. Not intended as an insult, by the way, if they are listening." He gestures with his sake cup ceilingward, in case the forces are up there, before taking a drink. "It's only perverse because of the element of imprisonment. But songbirds are caged, and kept for entertainment. It's no coincidence, I think, that we all came from entertainments: plays, books, stories. Even ... Shen Yuan and yourself were in stories, before you arrived. A friend of mine used the words favorite character. In a strange set of circumstances like this one, I find it easy to wonder why it should happen to me, why not somebody else -- a typical lament to make at gods. We're not tormented, as if this were a hell for us, but our lives also aren't altogether frictionless, as if we were in heaven. They are some truly heroic people here, some villains like myself, and some people you would simply call interesting without ascribing a morality to them. But if we're known from our stories, the forces at work likely chose all their favorite characters, regardless of vice and virtue. I admit," he says, "I did find the idea flattering. Even if it's also disquieting." Again, he thinks at the mansion forces, that's not an insult, but you did create a disquieting situation. He'd say it out loud, but it's likely they can hear his thoughts, too².

¹ Like a Cthulhu thing. Claudius couldn't deal with a Cthulhu thing.
² Only the ones I write out, Claudius.

[greatmasterairplane]

Shang Qinghua listens to this with great interest. It's not as foreign a concept to him as it may be to Claudius, because he's familiar with fandom. What Claudius is describing is like a big multi-fandom crossover, maybe one of those compilation fics where every chapter is a different trope. Shang Qinghua always scrolls past them; he never thought he'd be inside such a thing. It would definitely explain why Binghe is gay. Whoever is writing it must have meant to write in the real Shen Qingqiu and Shang Qinghua, and just got him and Cucumber-bro by accident. (But what kind of weirdo has the original Shang Qinghua as their favorite character??)

"If that's the case," he says, "then whoever selected Luo Binghe didn't think it through. He doesn't exactly mix well with others."

[wickedwit]

The small sake cups are, Claudius suspects, more like Lan Wangji's tea cups than Crowley's shot glasses, meant for savoring in small sips. Nevertheless, he knocks back the full cup, because he knows he's about to talk for a while. As it turns out, he has so much more Luo Binghe meta. "Why should he? In the course of his own book, he was able to achieve his ends through conquest and seduction, and even arose from scarce means to the position of emperor. Men with power seldom question their right to have it, but men who achieve power never question the methods they use to gain it. The further they’ve had to crawl, the more they can justify it. I say this as an aspiring usurper -- if I had everything I wished to from poisoning my brother, I’d have no cause to change course or risk turning backward. And you think he’d be likewise humbled to have lost his throne, but he cannot conceive of himself as having lost it. The difficulty is that -- even if his empire is irrelevant here -- he still possesses power. If he were the subject of an epic poem or saga, I’d say the parasitic blood was a metaphor for corruption and the reach of empire. You know about the parasitic blood, I assume? A vital humor, essential to him, that gives him power to influence others? He can use his influence to others' benefit or detriment, but so long as the ability to use it for pain exists, the temptation exists, too. The anti-monarchist allegory writes itself."

Claudius hasn't drunk enough to admit he thinks the blood parasites are cool and he examined them under a microscope. Sighing, he says, "I apologize. I've read a lot of anti-monarchist literature recently. Nevertheless, I'd like to see him spend one day as an ordinary man and forced to resolve a conflict¹. The only weaknesses he shows are emotional weaknesses, which are myriad, but prodding those only makes him more likely to lash out with power."

¹ Foreshadowing?

[greatmasterairplane]

Shang Qinghua follows Claudius' lead in chugging the sake and pours himself another cup. It's definitely hitting harder on top of the three glasses of baijiu he's already had, putting him in a warm, pleased mood while he listens to this.

"Astonishing insight," he says first, because Claudius deserves some praise for this speech. Truly worthy of Shakespeare! The booze is loosening his tongue—he can feel a monologue coming on himself, just like when he and Cucumber-bro get drunk and fight over PIDW. And it's been decades since he's spoken to someone about his writing process who won't get mad at him for not considering Binghe's feelings.

"Luo Binghe should be flattered to be the subject of such keen analysis. But you're coming from your own context—you see it as commentary on how power corrupts, because maybe that's your experience with power. I see the story more as a cautionary tale about the limits of power. Luo Binghe spent his childhood dreaming of a better life, and then found out he had the power to take it, and anything else he wanted. That led to wealth, companionship, political sway, and the destruction of his enemies, but it can't and won't make him happy. So the parasitic blood is part of the illusion of total power—he can control others' bodies, but not their hearts and minds. There is nothing he cannot do, but none of it matters. Everything given to Luo Binghe only serves to throw what he doesn't have into sharper relief. Oh, also, it's porn," he adds, gesturing with his sake. "I forgot that you wouldn't know the genre. The book is erotica."