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Shen Yuan is standing in his room in the Mansion in nothing but boxers, absolutely surrounded by clothes. There are stacks of discarded robes in every color of the rainbow (except, notably, red; the Mansion had given him one of those and he'd yelped and hid it under the bed); intricate and wildly expensive guans piled in teetering towers; he's knee-deep in jeans, and boots, and button-up shirts, and dress pants. There's a tuxedo, still on its hanger, swinging from the closet door. Behind it, the closet has helpfully refilled with more options, including a few very pretty dresses that Shen Yuan did not, actually, ask for, but he can't blame it for getting confused. He's fucking confused. He's completely at a loss, in fact.
He groans and grabs an outer robe at random, pulling it around his shoulders, and then falls over backward and starfishes on the clothes-covered floor. He doesn't know what the fuck to wear on a date. Especially not a date with Binghe, a dinner date with Binghe, and of course it's going to be world-class food, because Binghe is incapable of cooking anything else. And Binghe's going to be looking at him. The whole time. And it's not for—for an apology, or even for a seduction; he's just there to talk, and to listen, and to eat, and to—to flirt!! Intentionally!! Like gay people do!!
He has to look good, but not so good that it's painful for Binghe not to ravish him, and like himself—Shen Yuan, the self he's trying to be with Binghe—but not so different from Shen Qingqiu that Binghe doesn't like him anymore because he just looks like some fucking guy. He can't wear what he would have worn on a hypothetical date with a girl, because that's way too cringe and straight. Also, he doesn't know what that would have been, either.
It would be easier to do this somewhere else, anywhere his wardrobe is limited by what he already owns or could readily buy, and not made up of anything he can possibly imagine.
He rubs his hands over his face, and then pulls two slips of talisman paper and a brush from the robe's sleeve. Writing above his head like he's texting in bed, the paper held steady by an invisible force, he finishes two different but equally urgent messages. They fold themselves up, and he paints a last few qi-imbued characters on the outside before they both zoom out of the room in opposite directions.
[Magnus and Galahad will each receive a note that only opens for them and will lead them back to his room once they read it. However, Shen Qingqiu has mixed up which message was for who, so Galahad's reads "SOS!!! date emergency!!!" and then has two little drawings of the prayer hands emoji, and Magnus' reads "I need a favor, if you have the time - your friend Shen Qingqiu."]
He groans and grabs an outer robe at random, pulling it around his shoulders, and then falls over backward and starfishes on the clothes-covered floor. He doesn't know what the fuck to wear on a date. Especially not a date with Binghe, a dinner date with Binghe, and of course it's going to be world-class food, because Binghe is incapable of cooking anything else. And Binghe's going to be looking at him. The whole time. And it's not for—for an apology, or even for a seduction; he's just there to talk, and to listen, and to eat, and to—to flirt!! Intentionally!! Like gay people do!!
He has to look good, but not so good that it's painful for Binghe not to ravish him, and like himself—Shen Yuan, the self he's trying to be with Binghe—but not so different from Shen Qingqiu that Binghe doesn't like him anymore because he just looks like some fucking guy. He can't wear what he would have worn on a hypothetical date with a girl, because that's way too cringe and straight. Also, he doesn't know what that would have been, either.
It would be easier to do this somewhere else, anywhere his wardrobe is limited by what he already owns or could readily buy, and not made up of anything he can possibly imagine.
He rubs his hands over his face, and then pulls two slips of talisman paper and a brush from the robe's sleeve. Writing above his head like he's texting in bed, the paper held steady by an invisible force, he finishes two different but equally urgent messages. They fold themselves up, and he paints a last few qi-imbued characters on the outside before they both zoom out of the room in opposite directions.
[Magnus and Galahad will each receive a note that only opens for them and will lead them back to his room once they read it. However, Shen Qingqiu has mixed up which message was for who, so Galahad's reads "SOS!!! date emergency!!!" and then has two little drawings of the prayer hands emoji, and Magnus' reads "I need a favor, if you have the time - your friend Shen Qingqiu."]
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He blows out a breath. "Anyway, none of that is the point, or why I told you any of it. It's--this body. Like I said, it wasn't mine, and Luo Binghe--he hated the guy who was in here before me. Hell, I hated the guy who was in here before me. And when I first got in here, I had to dress like him, and then I kept dressing like him just out of habit, but I don't--" he bites his lip. "He hasn't minded so far, I guess. But I don't want to show up to our date looking like someone who hurt him so badly. I want to look more like me, who I used to be, but. He's never seen me like that."
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"What did you like?" he asks, a little uncertain about interjecting.
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Then he glances at Galahad, and what Galahad's wearing, and back at Shen Qingqiu. He resumes signing. "Is there a style of clothes you like better? Wait, we could make t-shirts. For the queer-after-death guys club. I think that would be a very striking first date look."
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"I don't really know," he says, finally. "There are clothes I think are beautiful, and sometimes I feel beautiful in Shen Qingqiu's robes from Qing Jing--" like when he'd dressed up for Binghe before, in his many layers of green, "--but that feels like I'm dressing up, like being in a play." Or doing cosplay, not that he ever would have cosplayed Shen Qingqiu in a billion years. "I'm not sure I've ever felt beautiful and like myself at the same time."
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He trails off, hands falling limp in his lap, too, as he thinks about how Alex makes him feel, and how much he misses her.
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But Magnus said he feels that way when Alex looks at him, and he's pretty sure Alex isn't the protagonist of their book. Both because Magnus clearly is, with the talking sword and everything, and because she's way too LGBTQ. Side-character status for sure. So maybe--maybe it's just kind of a thing, feeling beautiful in the eyes of someone you love. Maybe it doesn't matter what he wears, because Binghe will be looking at him no matter what.
...Yeah fucking right!! Enough moping!! Get up and get cracking!! He squeezes Galahad's hand and stands up. "Right," he says. "Okay. So basically. There are two ways to go, here. One, xianxia robes." He gestures at the stack of silk. "Pros: They're beautiful, and I know how to style them. Cons: I don't really know how to wear them and feel like me." He gestures at the closet. "Two! Modern, like, nice date clothes. Pros: They remind Binghe less of the scum villain, and are, ostensibly, more my deal. Cons: I don't know what the fuck I'm doing, or what looks good on me, or anything, and also he's never seen me dressed like that and what if he hates it?"
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"Most of the cultivators here have two names," he says. "Like--Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian are their courtesy names, which anyone can call them, though it's polite to address them with titles, too, and then they each have personal names, too." Shen Yuan knows them, of course, but he's not about to give Lan Wangji another reason to track him down and ask him invasive questions. "Shen Qingqiu is this body's courtesy name, the guy in here before was called Shen Jiu before he became Peak Lord. That's a personal name, the name you have when you're a kid, but it's also for people you're really close with. There's kind of gradations of familiarity. Titles and honorifics, courtesy name, courtesy name without family name, personal name." He starts sorting through xianxia robes, discarding anything too garish or too Qing Jing peak-y. "Luo Binghe never got a courtesy name, because he never achieved rank on Cang Qiong, and he didn't have parents to give him one, either. So just 'Binghe' is about as familiar as you can get, with him."
He holds up a sky blue robe with a pattern of silver flowers on, making a questioning face at both of them.
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*Galahad's eyes, of course, excepted.
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He kicks some jeans out of the way. "Is a suit too much?" Is a suit less or more than like seven layers of robe? Is it weird that it feels like more?
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Gods, he misses Alex.
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He catches the sign Galahad sends him, but it's not one he remembers, or maybe just different in ASL vs Chinese sign. He gives him a little bow anyway, and tries to remember it to look up later.
Right, okay, no suits. He shuffles through some more clothes. He's already out of his xianxia underclothes, so he might as well try some more modern stuff first. He starts pulling on a pair of nice dress pants in dark grey, hopping a little to pull them up over his hips.
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