Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Xie Lian couldn't take his eyes off of him.

It had been little more than five minutes since he first entered the building, clad in a deep black trench coat that swished around his ankles as he stepped in through the double doors, a bell chiming overhead to announce his arrival.

He wore a tight-fitted red turtleneck the color of blood, patterned slacks and leather boots. His ears, neck and the slender digits of his fingers were adorned in decorative but tasteful silver jewelry.

Xie Lian wondered if he always dressed so nicely because of a job he was coming here to take a breather from—after all, he arrived at the same time every day (3:45 pm on the dot, to be precise. Not that he was paying a whole lot of attention.) Or, maybe he just had a keen sense of style.

He thought it might be a bit of both.

In the end, Xie Lian decided that it didn't matter much.

What did was that each instance the man graced the homey little café with his presence, it wasn't only Xie Lian whose breath was stolen right out of his chest, stuttering and stalling like he'd run a marathon.

Shi Qingxuan wiggled her eyebrows from her place at his side, bumping her hip against his, and smiled knowingly, “Lian, isn’t that the guy who fixed the espresso machine?”

The memory of it sent a shock through him, tingling up his spine, and he nodded unintelligibly. He was sure that she noticed how he stubbornly avoided elaborating any further, occupying his hands with a wet towel and a spray bottle of cleaner to begin wiping down any easily accessible surface.

He thanked the heavens that Shi Qingxuan was the understanding, open-minded type, and that she was more than relieved to hear that he had an extra hand regardless of where it came from.

The morning following what she had started to refer to as 'The Great Espresso Incident’, he'd come in a rush an hour early, hoping to explain all that happened before she inevitably saw it while playing back the camera footage and, if possible, keep his job by the end of it.

Shi Qingxuan had ushered another employee to the front so she could lead Xie Lian to a booth, offering him a small bottle of water to drink and a blueberry muffin that he remembered scarfing down once he'd settled down enough to realize how hungry he was.

She’d loosely gripped his hand while he talked, and in his erratic ramblings, didn't notice right away the soft manner in which she hummed in response, nodding occasionally to urge him on. Needless to say he was still working there four months later, and had thankfully never had to man a shift by himself again.

That it became necessary at all was the result of poor management left for Shi Qingxuan to fix on her own, courtesy of the previous owner.

The day she left early had been due to an emergency involving her older brother, Shi Wudu.

Things were running pretty slowly for a mid-afternoon on a Monday, and he assured her that he would be fine on his own for a while. As opposed to firing him when he recounted the interesting turnout, she broke down in hysterics when Xie Lian clearly had no more to say, distraught with how awful she felt about the whole affair as she sobbed into a bundle of tissues he handed her, eyes puffy and rimmed with red.

Since then, he kept a small pack of them in the front pocket of his uniform green and white apron; his poor manager (who was a few years younger than himself) did have a habit of shedding tears, and Xie Lian would rather not have her dripping snot onto her well-ironed shirt.

“What did you say his name was, Lian?” Shi Qingxuan asked, and he got the sense that she just wanted to hear as much gossip as she could about Xie Lian's mysterious new…acquaintance? Friend?

Honestly, he wasn't sure what to call him. They'd spent almost a whole day together, working and talking with seamless harmony, yet he knew next to nothing about him aside from his name and his talent with a wrench.

“...Hua Cheng. But he's asked me to call him San Lang.” Xie Lian replied, familiar now with how warm the endearment sounded on his tongue. After all, he'd sat in his room and repeated it in his mind and aloud an embarrassing, borderline creepy amount of times, mentally scolding himself for being too awkward to ask for his contact information when he had the chance.

A couple times Shi Qingxuan had pointed out, not unkindly, that he still did, especially with how often Hua Cheng came in. But, would that even be appropriate? He couldn't exactly recreate the circumstances that had led to Hua Cheng's involvement, and Xie Lian doubted he would appreciate that, either.

He made a fool of himself often, but even someone like him still had some class. Hua Cheng just as easily could have left him his contact information if he desired, and seeing how common it was for customers to do so whenever their flirtatious barista Pei Ming was on the clock, Xie Lian was rather under the impression that it was not as frowned upon as making the first move as an employee. Ulterior motives or not, he didn't need that type of rumor spreading.

Attention pointedly focused elsewhere, he didn't see the way Shi Qingxuan's eyes went wide before she hurriedly schooled her expression when Xie Lian turned to face her again. He felt a little hot around the collar. Maybe the heater inside the café was turned up too high…

Xie Lian sighed softly under his breath.

Four months. Four months he'd watched Hua Cheng from afar, able to do little more than yearn to know him as more than just the enviously confident, savvy machine fixer he portrayed himself as.

There had been stolen looks and shy smiles exchanged, so many, yet he recalled each one as vividly as when it happened.

On a couple occasions he bravely glanced over first to that small booth Hua Cheng was always tucked in, typing away on his laptop or sketching in a leather bound notebook.

Other times he’d feel a faint burn somewhere on his backside, like someone was staring at him—and if he turned quickly enough, he would find the man watching him pensively, appearing to study him.

Hua Cheng grinned unabashedly whenever Xie Lian caught him in the act, sitting forward in his seat. Proud to have been discovered, almost preening.

Unlike Hua Cheng, who clearly wasn't opposed to a staring contest, Xie Lian could only hold his gaze for so long before he had to look away and try to make himself appear useful.

No matter what, though, his eyes drifted back again and again afterwards, and they frequently found Hua Cheng with a delicate smile on his lips as he outlined a rough sketch with his worn graphite pencil.

Xie Lian's knees inevitably wobbled at the memory, and he had to steady himself by gripping the counter so hard his knuckles turned white. He ignored Shi Qingxuan's telltale giggle from behind him as she scuttled around refilling syrups and keeping up with other various odds and ends.

The first time Xie Lian saw Hua Cheng, he was hardly more than a week into his new job, hands trembling as he fought with the espresso machine that was practically spitting smoke at the point he started to give up on saving it in an orderly fashion. There was already a line almost to the door behind the first customer he'd taken the order of, and he mentally recited the description of it in his mind at a frantic pace in order to not forget.

It was only a flat white, and he had a container of freshly steamed milk sitting on the counter nearby, but he couldn't finish the drink off when the final and most important component of the entire thing was currently having a loud and very dramatic seizure behind him.

He hadn’t even glanced up from what he was doing, not now, despite the endless string of apologies threatening to spill from his lips, and not when he took the young man's order and was immediately overcome by the warm, soothing sound of his voice.

Xie Lian wished he would speak again, because by now its relaxing effect had worn off, and he was in dire need of a fix, scrubbing down the spots he'd made a mess and staving off the hot flush of heat against his face as the corners of his eyes burned. He'd rarely ever felt so overwhelmed, so powerless in what should have been a completely manageable situation.

Shi Qingxuan would know what to do—or at least how to calm down a restless crowd, her cheery voice and bright smiles enough to ease even the most difficult of customers. He himself was fairly handy, but with the combined pressure of the imminent implosion of one of their most necessary assets and the several sets of eyes watching him struggle with only selfish desires in their hearts, it was like all sense and composure abandoned him.

As though the youth standing at the head of the line had read his mind, he slowly leaned beside the register in front of Xie Lian.

He stood there with his back slightly bent to accommodate his height and a hand propped underneath the side of his jaw, the other arm leisurely resting on the counter. His expression was one of unmistakable fondness as he spoke just loud enough for Xie Lian to hear him,

“Gege looks troubled.”

Xie Lian's eyes snapped up, narrowing a little in suspicion. He wanted to be irritated at the humor in the stranger's tone—it sounded like he was laughing at his failure, but he quickly realized that this wasn't the case whatsoever. Not only did the man appear genuinely sympathetic, his expression was inexplicably kind as he quietly met the barista's gaze, concerned.

The shallow, panicked breaths that had been heaving in his chest halted immediately, punched out of him with force.

He couldn't draw in any air, or even think. The muddled haze keeping him running on autopilot and fumbling through the disaster faded into a blanketed numbness. The only image that remained was a picturesque view of the young man languidly positioned before him, all sharp lines and dark, alluring beauty.

The youth’s long, silky black hair was drawn up in a high, elegant ponytail, teeming with natural waves he hadn't bothered to tame.

It poured over his shoulder as he leaned closer, each strand seeming to breathe with him in calm serenity.

His entire being screamed of self-assured confidence, and if Xie Lian wasn't mistaken, a bit of well-earned arrogance—and oh, did it work for him.

One eye as dark as a shard of obsidian peered back at him, twinkling with mirth and intrigue in equal measure.

The right was curiously hidden behind a black patch with an intricate design, the strings holding it there disappearing into wild raven tresses.

Wow.

Wait, wow?

Was that really the best he could do?

Yes, it was—right now, ‘wow’ certainly was the only word worthy of describing this person, though if he had an oxford on hand he could definitely find about fifty other more accurate descriptors, even if none of them could really come close to capturing the essence of the man across from him .

Xie Lian resisted the urge to slap his burning cheeks in a vain attempt to regain what sanity he remained clutching onto like a lifesaver, staring openly at the stranger very evidently awaiting his reply.

His heart did a few speedy backflips, pathetically deflating in disappointment when the customer glanced away to look at something off to the side. It filled like a balloon once the other fixed his attention back on him.

He tried to swallow, and the resulting sensation was like choking on sandpaper, throat clenching painfully.

“If gege would let this one be intrusive, he may know how to fix your machine.” The man claimed in that silvery voice of his, the one that somehow eased each and every worry he had, some well before he knew they were there.

Xie Lian had done nothing besides stare for the better part of the last minute, finally drawing himself together to exclaim, “Y-You do? I, yes—that would be—”

Xie Lian was about to agree when he realized how easily he was being swept away by the other's eagerness to help.

He knew nothing about him, and inviting someone who wasn't an employee or on a job interview could be a big mistake on his part. It wouldn't be difficult for the situation to be taken advantage of, and at this rate he was practically opening his arms and begging for exactly that.

There was some comfort in knowing that cameras were all around monitoring the shop, and if he found that the cash register had been meddled with, this man's face was so distinct he'd have a hard time evading the authorities.

And then there was the unwavering peace of mind, the sense of security and safety that had mysteriously already buried itself within him. Just a tentative glance at the latter earned him a gentle smile, and his heart stirred.

Xie Lian wanted to trust him. How could he not?

“Uhm,” he began in a mumble, and he thought that the man really had to be psychic, because he predicted yet another of Xie Lian's burning questions and cut in smoothly to spare him the time,

“This one is called Hua Cheng. But, I'd prefer if gege called me San Lang.” The youth said, the corner of his sharp eye crinkling. It looked like he was privately reveling in an inside joke, though for as warm as his voice was when he suggested it, Xie Lian doubted it came from a place of negativity.

Xie Lian thought he much resembled a fox, curved lips always shadowed by an ever present smile, his one visible eye forming a crescent as it cast its utmost focus upon him, never straying except to take in the state of the downed espresso machine still feebly spewing puffs of smoke.

“San Lang.” Xie Lian echoed in a light daze, his throbbing heart filling once more as butterflies beat their wings against his ribs.

He was so weak, but it was so simple to take pleasure in the way the soft syllables rolled off his tongue, sweeter than honey.

The way Xie Lian repeated his name had to have come as a small shock, because Hua Cheng's eye widened a fraction as he blinked, taken aback by Xie Lian's readiness to call him by his requested title.

That adorably caught off guard look was gone as quickly as it appeared, Hua Cheng beaming brighter than ever. He was still looking for the go-ahead from Xie Lian, and now it was his turn to falter.

“Right! Right, ah—hold on just a second.” He gestured over the counter for Hua Cheng to follow him to the side, and soon threw open the handleless door where only workers exited and entered to mop up spills or deliver drinks to customers. Hua Cheng was waiting there patiently for him, stepping forward at Xie Lian's nod of assent, only to raise a brow when the uniformed man abruptly placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him going any farther.

“Gege?”

Xie Lian's cheeks warmed, and he quickly retracted his hand, letting it fall stiffly to his side. “My apologies, I—it’s just, your shoes…” he trailed off, and Hua Cheng tilted his head to look as he explained, “The floors are very slippery, and I don't want San Lang to fall. I think we might have an extra pair of non-slip ones somewhere, if I can…” he didn't need to say it, that he was in a rush to get Hua Cheng in and out as fast as he possibly could.

“Take all the time you need, gege. San Lang will stay here.” Hua Cheng promised, and something about the way he said it really gave the illusion that Xie Lian could take as long as he had to, without having to worry that Hua Cheng might wander. He smiled gratefully, briefly reaching out to squeeze the youth's arm in sincere apology, and hastily ran to the storage room located in the back. Some digging around revealed a set that looked to be about Hua Cheng's size, and he hurried to give them to him.

Hua Cheng dutifully slipped off his boots and traded them for the pair Xie Lian brought, quickly and efficiently lacing them up.

Once there was much less chance of him taking a spill, Xie Lian showed him to the espresso machine. For a minute or two Hua Cheng studied it without taking any major action, prodding around with different tools he'd taken from a set Xie Lian also fetched at his request, wearing a concentrated expression.

In the meantime, Xie Lian reluctantly made his peace with the fact that some of these drinks weren't going to be completed in the order they'd arrived, and explained so to anyone willing to listen over the chatter inside the crowded café. He even offered full refunds to those not wanting to wait, mindfully aware that it would probably be coming out of his own paycheck.

To his pleasant surprise, not a single person came forward seeking compensation.

Most of them had by now retreated to seats nearby, observing the happenings behind the counter like it was a particularly riveting drama on television.

While he was missing in action he thought he'd heard the sound of Hua Cheng's voice projecting within the space, like he was speaking to the huddled crowd impatiently awaiting their coffee.

When he returned, the noise had died down, but Hua Cheng still stood obediently where he'd been left. He only shot Xie Lian a friendly, comforting wink when asked if he was responsible for the lack of tension in the air, and he'd fought down a laugh, half-heartedly reprimanding him.

He was sure Hua Cheng could tell just how appreciative he really was for his intervention, as he was too much of a people pleaser to take a crowd by the reins like his other co-workers did when fed up.

It was impressive, actually—they were even more docile and well-behaved than when Shi Qingxuan stepped in. A part of him was tempted to ask just what sort of method Hua Cheng employed, but he also wondered if maybe it wasn't smart to go searching for answers that may have a dubious foundation.

They worked in quiet unison after overcoming their first inevitable barriers, Xie Lian slapping order stickers on cups and handing finished drinks over, most of them juices or menu items not requiring espresso. He moved around Hua Cheng, the dark haired man side-stepping him with ease or ducking his head when Xie Lian reached past him to grab something he needed, occasionally even handing it to him himself, as though they'd done this dance together for years and he was familiar with the layout of the shop and Xie Lian, too.

A couple customers opted to alter their order for something he could do at the moment, paying or being given back the difference, and the stiffness in his shoulders gradually ebbed away with the success of each satisfied smile he received as the line of unfulfilled tasks dwindled.

They were doing this. They could do this.

“Is it going well, San Lang?” Xie Lian asked, passing a very excitable looking young man with a mane of brown curls his café au lait. As soon as he had it in his grasp, he bounded over to a pallid looking man sitting in the back of the room with dull, shoulder length hair and an easily forgettable kind of face.

He pointedly leaned away from his companion when he came into his personal space but made no other attempts to evade him, smiling in acknowledgement as the other sat at the same table across from him.

“Very well. This one should be done with gege's machine soon.” Hua Cheng replied without hesitation, twisting the wrench in his hand against an especially stubborn bolt.

Loose strands of hair were hanging over his forehead, curled from the steam, his fair complexion lightly flushed. Xie Lian bit his bottom lip a little, suppressing the laugh trying to fight its way to freedom. It took a special kind of pretty to still be this eye catching while so visibly frazzled (and frizzy.)

Since his entrance as an honorary employee, the café had become a hotspot for eager onlookers and there were hardly any available seats left by the time Hua Cheng was finishing up. Once he tuned himself into the world beyond the bubble he'd crafted around them, he said without words, impatiently frowning, 'Do none of you have somewhere better to be?'

Xie Lian had assumed he might be the confrontational type, and he realized some time later that Hua Cheng likely settled for glaring knowing it may reflect badly on their business to verbally express annoyance, and he wouldn't be there to deflect the heat after tonight.

He was reaching up to wipe the sweat from his brow when Xie Lian gently nudged him, handing over a cool, damp towel.

The smile Hua Cheng gave him almost had him seeing stars. He was shining, quite literally, as his pale skin glowed with a thin layer of perspiration, but he didn't seem to mind. His eye gleamed, wide grin accentuated by the sharpness of his canines, “Gege is so thoughtful.” He said softly, pressing the fabric to his forehead as he continued working undeterred with his other hand.

“Mn.” Xie Lian mused, because it was impossible to say anything else with the memory of Hua Cheng looking at him that way.

The crowd around them only began to disperse when the early autumn sky darkened to a heavy gray, and Hua Cheng had long since mended the faulty espresso machine. Xie Lian was sweeping up the floors, humming a quiet tune under his breath. He jumped a bit at the sound of Hua Cheng speaking from somewhere behind him, turning around to see him draped along a comfortable red armchair, one long leg crossed elegantly over the other. Xie Lian felt that he wouldn't look out of place on a throne, elevated above everyone else and with all kinds of treasures littering the ground at his feet.

“Gege, aren't you forgetting something?”

Xie Lian jolted out of his fantasy as though electrified, gripping the broom in hand tighter. He faltered, picking up his dust pan from the floor.

Pondering Hua Cheng's question for a moment, he filtered through the list he'd made in his head of the chores he still had to do before closing but couldn't think of anything. “...Am I?”

Hua Cheng's eye shone knowingly, and goodness, he really was the prettiest person Xie Lian had ever met in his life—

“My flat white.”

Oh, no.

Oh, no!

How many hours had it been?!

Hua Cheng had slaved away for nothing at all, so generously offering his help at no charge, going above and beyond to ensure Xie Lian wasn't overwhelmed alone. The least he could have done was remember to prepare his drink, and he hadn't done even that.

Xie Lian was in the midst of a panic when Hua Cheng's next comment sent him spiraling further, “Actually, gege, I have to admit something…”

The dark haired youth sat up in his seat. “It wasn't a flat white at all. That was the order of someone else ahead of me, but they left without saying anything. I suppose they got impatient. Trash.” His tone was light at first, slipping to a hiss at the final word, his lip curling in undisguised offense.

He wished more than anything that it was reassuring, but right now, Xie Lian only felt disappointment in himself as he pressed his back against the rounded front counter, burying his face in his hands.

“I didn't take your order.” He whispered in disbelief, and, sensing Xie Lian's inner turmoil, Hua Cheng frowned. He was fiddling with something in his hands, twisting and pulling at it with care.

“Gege,” Hua Cheng murmured. When Xie Lian refused to lower his hands, he spoke with more insistence, “Gege, please look at me.”

In spite of everything, his heart stirred at the gentle command. Xie Lian peeked at him from in between his fingers, Hua Cheng's impossibly handsome face smiling back kindly.

He made it look like the simplest thing in the world.

“I never had an order,” Hua Cheng confessed, the fidgeting, or what Xie Lian believed was fidgeting, growing more insistent. “It seemed cozy in here, so I was just planning to sit down and do some work on the computer. I came up when I saw gege battling so valiantly with the espresso machine—”

“San Lang!” Xie Lian gasped out, and at the brilliant sound of Hua Cheng's laughter, the anxious giddiness welled up in his chest and escaped him in short bursts at first, then fully fledged upheavals. He felt it deep in the pit of his stomach as he lost all semblance of control and dignity, the sheer joy tearing from his throat until he couldn't bear it anymore.

His breathing was ragged when he at last began to come down from that high, chest rising and falling in tandem with his airy chuckles. He hadn’t laughed this hard in a long, long time, and though the aftermath had his heart racing out of his chest and grasping for his sanity, he thought it might be in competition for the best feeling he'd ever experienced, hand in hand with whatever this maddening dizziness Hua Cheng imposed on him was.

He'd all but forgotten about sweeping, wiping at his eyes and shaking with quiet laughter. Xie Lian heard soft bristles raking against the floor again and glanced to the side to find Hua Cheng finishing the job, and he grimaced, “San Lang, don't—please, you’ve done too much today—”

“San Lang enjoys being of use to gege.” Hua Cheng answered calmly, as if no other reason was needed. Xie Lian stared at him, a bit disbelieving.

Did this kind of person seriously exist?

“Still, San Lang should stop for now. I can't allow this.” Xie Lian shook his head, making an attempt at gently grabbing the broom from him when Hua Cheng swiftly moved to avoid him. He raised a singular eyebrow at Xie Lian, then kept sweeping, moving in another direction as though nothing had happened.

Xie Lian didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“San Lang—” he tried again to reach for the broom, and Hua Cheng whirled around to keep it away, steadily collecting scraps and dirt lingering on the floor.

He couldn’t believe it, standing there uselessly for a moment before launching another attack, this time grasping the man's wrist.

With incredible speed, Hua Cheng switched the broom to his other hand and lifted the arm Xie Lian was holding onto.

The motion had him falling forward slightly, stubbornly holding on as he stood on the edges of his toes, eyes round and lips parted in shock.

And Hua Cheng smirked.

“Gege, so forward.” He teased in an unmistakably sultry tone of voice, making Xie Lian's ears burn in shame. He released Hua Cheng in a hurry, stammering nonsense, and the other chuckled deeply. To make matters worse, he still withheld the broom from him and urged him to sit down and take a break.

Surely he was the one in need of a break, but Xie Lian plopped down on a barstool anyway at his additional encouragement, watching Hua Cheng sweep with a certain contentment that almost made him sigh aloud.

He wished just a handful of their employees were half as competent as Hua Cheng, who didn’t even work here.

Twenty minutes later, Xie Lian showed Hua Cheng out of the building so he could fully close down the shop for the night, and though Hua Cheng offered to wait for him outside, Xie Lian insisted that he didn't want to hold him up.

Truthfully he wouldn't mind the company going home, but he could see the tiredness in the man's gait, his half-lidded eye sleepy yet brimming with warmth.

The resulting blush warming his cheeks was enough to keep him in the game for a little while longer. As he latched the front door, he recalled the sight of Hua Cheng's retreating back moving down the opposite street.

Xie Lian had lingered there on the sidewalk, waiting for him to be entirely gone from his field of vision, when Hua Cheng stopped, turned his head, and smiled.

He gawked, waving back a bit too enthusiastically, and he swore he saw the younger man's shoulders shaking with laughter as he continued on his way.

Ah, he was definitely making fun of him then...

Following his departure, Xie Lian zipped back inside the building.

The crisp, cold air swirled around his lungs as he leaned all of his weight against the door, heart pounding so aggressively in his chest he thought he might be at risk of having it claw its way out to freedom.

When he had calmed enough to breathe again with some assurance, he walked through the café and to the coffee stations up front, navigating to the far back nook almost hidden next to the separate room where they stored extra supplies.

Untying his apron, he lifted the strap over his head and hung it on a hook beside Shi Qingxuan's, exchanging it for the worn winter coat that, after years of use, did little to block the chilly winds. He shrugged it on, pushing his arms through the sleeves and grabbing his equally scrappy beige tote bag.

It had certainly seen better days, with unknowable stains littered about that he'd tried and failed to wash out in the past, and one too many frayed ends. It hadn’t broken on him yet, though, and Xie Lian considered that a small blessing with how abysmal his luck seemed to be in recent years.

It wasn't until he was making his way to the doors that he spotted what he thought was a crumpled, leftover napkin at first, sitting on the table closest to the entrance. Xie Lian paused, stepping over to examine it.

He cautiously picked it up by a loose end, holding it to the light streaming into the shop from across the road, and almost dropped it in awe of what he found.

It wasn’t a napkin at all, but a piece of soft white parchment folded over and over again to create numerous fragile petals, and what he held onto was not a loose end, but a dainty stem.

A pure white flower, carved devotedly by nimble fingers.

Chapter Text

Hua Cheng left a flower once a week.

Xie Lian would know, because it had become something of a ritual for him to wait and see one laying at the center of the table the man sat in front of, along with a hefty tip that drew in the jealous eyes of his co-workers.

Before he started working there, he rarely had anything aside from a bundle of ones and a sparse few fives and tens here and there if he was lucky (a phenomenon all on its own), but now he had a concerning number of fifties to break. Shi Qingxuan kindly insisted that Xie Lian buy a new jacket with all that accumulating cash, which he brushed off without a second thought.

No, he'd save everything he was given.

For what, he wasn't sure.

Somehow, it was hard to part with any of the money Hua Cheng had left behind, as though it didn't really belong to him. He hadn’t worked very hard to earn it.

The growing collection of bills in his wallet had a heavy weight to them, and before long he was back to using his debit card for every small purchase he made in order to avoid the seed of greed building in his chest, planted by a purely innocent gesture on Hua Cheng's behalf to express gratitude towards a service. When Xie Lian was younger, he didn't understand the power money could have on a person.

What having it (or not) could drive someone to do.

Possibly because he had had so much of it, and didn't need to overthink where it went, or who he was taking it from.

His days of being spoiled were long gone, and the thought of spending unnecessarily made his stomach churn with unease. What if he needed his savings for an emergency, and had recklessly done away with them?

He could put a tab on buying food—he had enough to make dinner tonight and breakfast when he woke up.

Being on time with rent was more important, and Xie Lian didn’t mind being a bit hungry for a day or two.

He'd handled much worse than an empty stomach.

Hua Cheng must be well off, to be so charitable.

Was he like Xie Lian in the sense that he grew up surrounded by wealth and good fortune, and didn’t have to worry about where his next meal came from?

Evidently so, if he was still so clearly unconcerned with such affairs as tip culture. Xie Lian would have had to stretch fifty dollars for a week or longer when he first found himself on his own, and that didn't include finding a place to rest his head for the night. Some days, he was such a hopeless wreck that he was denied help wherever he went.

It was bad luck to kneel low enough to reach your hand out to a man in need—what if karma refused to show favor, and you ended up worse off?

There were very few people who showed an eagerness to help without the promise of something in return, and Xie Lian had little more to offer than a pretty face at the time.

He was decent at defending himself, had graduated from university with a shiny degree, and that was about all he could say for himself. He had never been in the real world before. Thankfully, it hadn't come to disgracing himself and tearing to shreds what scraps of dignity and sense of self he had left, but it had been narrowly avoided.

When he was at his very worst, he found strange comfort in knowing he hadn't lost everything.

He was still himself, wasn't he? He was. He wanted to be.

At what point did he realize who he was had been a fantasy character?

Someone he thought embodied grace and good will, someone he thought could help others when he couldn't even do that for himself.

No amount of begging got him anywhere, and he was quickly forced to learn that it was better to be quietly suffering than crying for attention. In the end, he could do little else but accept his situation for what it was.

His parents were gone, and there was no way of bringing them back. At twenty-two, the sheltered and coddled son of an empire found himself sitting in the front seat with an army behind him waiting for his command. Xie Lian was expected to follow in the footsteps of a man who had rarely ever had him choose his own outfits for the day.

Mr. Xie had thought his son too airheaded, his mind filled with nonsense, and withheld the power of decision that would teach Xie Lian independence.

His future was never his—whatever image he projected could be the downfall of those around him.

And so, the rebellion in his heart continued to boil.

Xie Lian was taught to sit back and allow his every affair to be managed by someone else for his entire life, yet he foolishly thought himself capable.

In the blink of an eye, the inherited business he didn't have the skills or knowledge to run had collapsed in a sea of flames, and he brought everyone who dared to place their trust in him down under, too.

Feng Xin and Mu Qing stayed for some time.

He had been on the run for over a month, refusing to answer any line of communication that would give away his location. The last thing he wanted was pity, or to let anyone he knew see what a mess he'd turned into.

So far he had made use of the rest of the money left for him in his mother and father's will to keep himself afloat, but the vast majority was either drained in the efforts of salvaging what remained of their livelihood or locked away in a fund he no longer had any access to. He was almost out of options, running on fumes and desperate for an escape.

It was by chance that Mu Qing spotted him about to catch a bus out of the city and stopped him, half dragging him back to the sidewalk and under the shelter of an awning as the weather took a sudden turn for the worse.

Feng Xin insisted that he come and share their apartment, and after much hesitation, Xie Lian agreed.

He was too tired to care where he went, and he wanted nothing more than a hot shower and something to eat other than fast food or the pitiful vending machine snacks at the internet cafés he'd taken to renting as of late.

Xie Lian couldn't think about how awful he must have looked and smelled to them—the last time either Mu Qing or Feng Xin had seen him was in court, dark shadows beneath his eyes but maintaining a polished appearance, where he was more or less bullied into relinquishing his position and selling the shell of his father's company to a buyer with more convincing prospects and ratings.

No matter what he said, the blame was turned on him.

Anytime he thought there might be a sliver of hope, it was extinguished in a heartbeat. He could do nothing but watch, knowing it was pointless to keep fighting. He was clutching at straws then, already so far removed from the well-groomed, always pleasant, likable and easy to get along with Xie Lian the pair had grown accustomed to.

He may have been pampered, but his kindness was never false. It was what had made him tolerable despite his obliviousness at his own glaring privilege.

Now, each attempt at smiling he made was forced, straining at the edges like an old doll with peeling paint.

His posture sagged, long brown hair dull and unkempt, pulled into a greasy bun at the back of his head. He was wearing some weird assortment of clothes he got from who knows where, likely having sold his old ones.

The priceless decals, heirlooms passed down along the family line for generations, anything he could pawn off, was traded in for extra cash, which was quickly running low.

The same evening, Feng Xin cleared out his room to give him a bed to sleep on, despite it being clear by the uncomfortable look on Mu Qing's face that he had planned on Xie Lian being the one to take the couch.

Xie Lian had never been so restless, keenly aware of his trespass. He knew that the two of them were rooming together while attending college classes, more for convenience than anything else.

Rent was cheap for being so close to the main campus, and they didn't need a lot of space for extra things.

When Xie Lian asked about how things were going, Feng Xin was somewhat surprised he remembered, and Mu Qing only folded his arms and let the ex guard answer for him.

But, of course Xie Lian did. It was hard to forget, when they both had to be given explicit permission just to extend their education outside of the business. How strange was it, being face to face with the man who had once stood above them, and now was at his most vulnerable?

Xie Lian had nothing to show for all the ruin he caused.

He knew that at some point, he'd become an intruder, an unwanted presence barging into the budding relationship beginning to take shape. Xie Lian must have missed that conversation, because a couple months into the arrangement, Feng Xin abandoned his spot on the sofa.

Each night through the thin walls he heard the telltale sound of Mu Qing's door clicking open as Feng Xin slipped inside, a few low murmurs as the bed creaked beneath an additional weight climbing on top of it, and then silence.

He was happy for them, really.

How long had they tip-toed around each other for his sake, putting his contentment over their own?

Even now, they were abandoning their usual routines in favor of checking in on him throughout the day, stopping by before and after classes to remind him to eat.

To bathe, when the ends of his hair got so matted and filled with tangles that he couldn't drag a brush through it.

When he was too exhausted to deal with it anymore, he brought a pair of scissors into the bathroom and cut it all off. The snipping sounds of the blades meeting thick locks of hair fell on deaf ears as damaged strands drifted to the floor and made a mess of the sink basin. Clogged the drain, as he worked in vain to flush everything out of sight.

He didn't need those memories, the reminders of who he had been. The face staring back at him in the mirror was not the person he wanted to see.

Towards the end of the year, the health of Mu Qing's mother began to rapidly decline. Xie Lian was aware that she had been sick for many years, her weak constitution making her susceptible to illness. There was no known cure.

Whatever Mu Qing made after being taken into their company went towards her extended stays at care facilities. Xie Lian had once mindlessly offered to pay for her expenses out of concern for the wellbeing of one of his best friend's family, not wanting to prolong their suffering.

The anger and disbelief on Mu Qing's face had startled him into silence, as he cautiously called after the man storming from the room. Feng Xin only looked aimlessly between Xie Lian and the door before assuring him he had done nothing wrong, leaving him behind to track the still fuming Mu Qing down and talk privately with him.

Xie Lian stood there with his hair half done up, Mu Qing having been tending to styling it when their conversation took a turn. He tried to apologize to his attendant later on, and though Mu Qing gritted his teeth and told him to forget about it, the damage had already been done.

Xie Lian couldn't understand why he was so upset, why he wouldn't just let him help. He wasn't able to shake the sick feeling that he had said something that couldn't be taken back, even as Feng Xin brushed aside his worry and told him to put it out of his mind.

It was too late, even if he knew now why Mu Qing had been frustrated. He'd felt like he was being undermined, all of the backbreaking work he pushed himself through for the sake of his family nothing in the face of Xie Lian's prosperity.

Xie Lian might as well have laughed right at him, too.

As the end of his mother's life drew nearer, Mu Qing predictably returned home later and later every night, sometimes hand in hand with Feng Xin as they spoke in hushed whispers outside in the hallway.

They rarely divulged any information about her condition to him, and Xie Lian didn't discover that she had been taken off life support until the date of the funeral a week later. He recalled vividly the betrayal running rampant in his heart, stirring to the sound of both men in the kitchen trying and failing to keep their argumentative voices down.

Mu Qing and Feng Xin were dressed in dark, respective attire, their heated expressions turning grim at the sight of Xie Lian stepping out of his room to ask what was going on.

Anything after their admittance of the death of Mu Qing's mother was lost to him, blurred white noise in his memory.

Did they really think they couldn't confide in him about something like this? Had it always been this...strained between them? Did they even see him as a friend, or was he just an old responsibility they took on out of guilt?

He supposed neither wanted to burden him when he was struggling plenty unassisted, or they intended to make a point that he was no longer wanted around without actually spitting it at him. Xie Lian understood that.

Maybe he jumped to his own conclusions to make himself feel better about the whole ordeal.

But at that time he couldn't care less about what was supposedly 'good' for him, he only wanted the two people he thought wholeheartedly were his best friends to be honest with him. To finally stop sparing him the hurt.

When that very thing, the drastic lengths the ones he held dear went to keep him in the dark, had been the catalyst for his downfall. Xie Lian had yet to pick himself up off his feet, the shadows under his eyes more prominent than ever.

He wasn't doing anything for himself, and even if he never moped, he imagined he wasn't all that enjoyable.

He'd been losing weight, and he chose not to pay attention to the ache of his body after laying in the wrong position too long. Most days he remained curled up in his borrowed space, secured only by the weight of the comforter laying over him as he gazed at the wall opposite.

Unlike when Feng Xin occupied the room, there were no pictures taped there, no memories worth capturing and remembering. The desk that had once been an organized, well-loved mess now reflected the absent state of his mind, bare except for a dark blue pencil holder with a single pen inside of it, his laptop, and a worn out notebook.

He'd been thinking of researching jobs.

A simple one would do, Mu Qing had said. Just an entry level position, as he didn't have much experience. Xie Lian knew he was being especially generous not to call him what he really wanted, to say as he pleased now that he could.

He wasn't obligated to treat Xie Lian as royalty under the orders of a strict contract like he was in the past.

Mu Qing bit his tongue and dealt with the bitter taste of bile that crept into his mouth anytime he saw that Xie Lian's door was shut, which surely meant the man was laying in bed doing nothing. He could be doing something, and he argued that point to Feng Xin over and over and over, nearly driven to insanity by the repetitiveness of his own words.

Xie Lian was sick. He needed help, and he obviously wasn't going to get it himself. He was burning himself out without even trying to turn things around, and Mu Qing was tired of pretending to be fine with that.

Once or twice he threatened to leave altogether, and for a few nights he did—he needed space to think, to be in an environment that didn't make him want to tear his hair out.

Feng Xin and Xie Lian hardly spoke a word to each other in his absence, and he could tell that, deep down, Feng Xin wanted to resent him for driving Mu Qing away for any amount of time. He was trapped, stuck between wanting to adhere to Xie Lian's wishes as he always had, and needing to see him get better. His loyalty was torn two ways. He didn't want to leave Xie Lian behind to destroy himself, but he couldn't stand being at an impasse with his lover, either.

Xie Lian wished he would say so.

A part of him desired it, craved it. Needed it.

He had to be pushed, maybe to his limits, before admitting how far he had fallen. Only then could he get up.

Nothing changed. He didn't get up, he didn't want to get up.

Not yet. Couldn't he just lay here for a little longer?

He would get on the computer soon, really—he was bored, just laying down all the time. When did he last eat?

He'd sweated out the pitiful few gulps of water he drained from his bottle after a nightmare woke him up, shirt sticking to his skin uncomfortably.

Ah...Mu Qing had suggested he apply to jobs. Even passively. If Xie Lian asked, he knew he would be given help. No, no, he needed to do this by himself.

How long ago was that? A couple weeks? No, a month—

Xie Lian blinked drearily. He was losing time again.

That happened more and more, it seemed.

As though he was keen to forget the lonesome nothingness occupying his each and every moment, the throb deep within him speaking of unstitched wounds he had yet to acknowledge, to touch with shaking fingertips.

It was Mu Qing who spoke first.

Really, it was a miracle he had restrained himself for so long. After the whole debacle with the funeral, it was clearer than ever the boundaries separating their world and the one Xie Lian inhabited. He tried not to think too hard about the consequences of that particular fight, the one that had him suddenly in possession of an empty two-bedroom apartment and a lack of the last people in his life who actually tried to care about what became of him.

Xie Lian had driven them away, had pushed their concerns to the side with empty promises only meant to placate.

Five years later, not a word had been said between them.

His twenty-eighth birthday was coming up in July, and—ah, thinking on it... hadn't they planned to go away on a trip together after Mu Qing and Feng Xin got out of college? He wondered if they ended up going with each other instead.

It was fine this way, even if it wasn't.

It was better this way, with Xie Lian out of their lives.

They didn’t have to waste time fussing over him anymore, and he didn't want that, either. He was doing as much as he could for himself, even if his earnings weren't anything to brag about and his bank account often over drafted the last two nights before his paycheck arrived. It was something, to say he was surviving, making the most of what he had.

The living space he once shared with Mu Qing and Feng Xin was left largely untouched, unchanged. No less empty.

He'd redecorated a little bit here and there, and most of the furniture was left behind for him to make use of.

It was a bit lonely, but he told himself that it was a much nicer alternative to camping out on a park bench or bus stop and being chased away at the first light of dawn.

It really wasn't all bad.

Sometimes, he slept in on the weekends.

If he'd recently gone out to buy groceries, he might cook himself a meal on the stove and, if he was feeling especially creative, would think up a new recipe to try.

Oftentimes this led to one or more things being charred to a crisp, and he would wrap another bandage around his finger—the result of several disastrous attempts at taming the fire bursting from the pot. How strange.

He only added a bit of water to the rice…how was it that it had mostly melted into a paste at the bottom…?

And...wasn't it supposed to be white rice?

He must have accidentally put food coloring in to get it that shade of purple, but he hadn’t ever had any in the cabinet.

It's okay! He wasn't one to complain, and he wouldn't waste perfectly good food. It was still edible, anyway, so he refused to throw it out. He wondered if Shi Qingxuan might like to try it, but the last time she ate some of his cooking he had to rush her to the emergency room.

Ever since, whenever he offered for her to come over and share a meal and admitted with some probing that he'd be preparing it himself, she went from eager to suddenly very busy until her next day off. Apparently, she was just having some cramps that one time. It probably didn't have anything to do with the quality of the meal.

More days passed.

Shi Qingxuan might call later and ask him if he wanted to cover a shift. He always said yes. He needed the hours and the extra pay, the distraction. Xie Lian couldn't allow himself to rest too long on one thought, or he'd stagnate.

Staying busy was the cost of his mental (and financial) stability, and after so long of trying so hard to keep his head above water, he couldn't let the exhaustion creeping into his bones drag him to the bottom.

He'd been there, he'd lived it. He didn’t want to again.

In spite of his insistence to put it out of his mind, he still dredged out his wallet from the depths of his bag and flipped through all that was inside of it, lingering on the cash tucked in the back pocket.

It was easy to ignore the presence of the money when he had no real need for it, but on the nights that he had nothing except for his thoughts to keep him company, he inevitably found comfort in the idea of a man he thought might just be a good dream he was unworthy of reliving.

Xie Lian wanted to know more, more than what meager little Hua Cheng had offered.

He must be pretty good with his hands, if he could have fixed the espresso machine with so few setbacks.

He put clear effort into polishing his appearance—Xie Lian didn't think there was a day he'd ever not been dressed down, his clothes always stylish and trendy yet completely his own. He thought Hua Cheng would still look like a supermodel even in sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt.

Was he an artist?

The paper flowers he grew with his fingertips, his sketchbook so filled with drawings that it had begun to thicken with use, the small traces of paint splatters on his palms, all pointed to yes. Xie Lian was just waiting to give what wasn't really his back to Hua Cheng, no matter how often he reminded himself that returning cash was a very poor excuse to start up a conversation.

But, Xie Lian was sure to make a fool of himself regardless of how he decided to broach a topic of interest. Stranger still was that they'd never spoken, not since that day.

It was always another barista up front now, while he waited on customers and brought them their drinks and pastries.

Putting the orders into the machine was a task set for newer members of their team, and even Xie Lian had been in charge of training employees by now—mostly without incident. He'd like to think that Hua Cheng being there was the cause of that, because his usual clumsiness seemed to become a thing of a past whenever he felt the youth's eyes following him, offering their quiet encouragement.

Every time he spotted the name ‘Hua Cheng' printed on the label of the coffee cup he was delivering, he expected to find him there waiting—to no avail. Xie Lian wasn't sure if it was his horrendous luck causing it, or if the man was avoiding being in his seat on purpose, but it had become a popular discussion among the other servers by now.

Was Hua Cheng interested in Xie Lian?

What was so good about him? He always made rookie mistakes, and he had a peculiar personality.

Why was it that Hua Cheng watched him, and why did he seem to intentionally leave something behind for him to find whenever he left? Was he actually pursuing him?

When Shi Qingxuan heard the talk going on behind Xie Lian's back, not only did she cut hours and pay until their team's attitudes took a sharp turn for the better, but terminated anyone who continued to speak badly about her employee despite the clear line that had been drawn.

She told Xie Lian so, when he pointed out that the schedule was more vacant than usual. She was such a good friend, even at the expense of her business.

With so few people left over, it was hard for a while, but he didn’t want to leave Shi Qingxuan to fend for herself alone while putting together a better group.

By the end of his second month working there, the tiredness he felt had gravitated to his bones, but he was happy.

Maybe he wasn't doing what he had a degree for, but did he ever want to be a lawyer anyways?

The small little café on the corner that started with only him and Shi Qingxuan had since grown, turned into a bustling getaway where an unoccupied seat was difficult to come by most hours of the day.

It was typically college students that filled the space, as the campus was no more than a few blocks down the road and the tiny shop made for a comfortable spot to both study and dine, conveniently close and with affordable prices to boot. They'd started offering coupons, special deals and seasonal menu items, which bolstered sales even more.

Shi Qingxuan had made him aware of something interesting, too. The booth that Hua Cheng sat at, had been sitting at ever since he started coming here, had grown a stigma around it. When he first heard this, a flash of anxiety overshadowed his small smile—he hoped there wasn't some strange superstition that would end up driving the man away, expressing his concern to his friend in as subtle a manner as possible. He had a feeling she knew what he didn't want her to regardless, but at least she tried to save him some face. “No, no,” Shi Qingxuan assured, and that made him relax slightly. “It's the opposite, actually.”

Xie Lian's brows raised, a bit intrigued. “What do you mean?”

Leaning a little closer, Shi Qingxuan hid a giggle behind her palm and whispered the next word beside his ear, “Love!"

“...”

“Lian, why are you pulling that face?”

Quickly fighting the strange expression he could feel taking form and settling for something more neutral, Xie Lian sighed softly and quickly moved to busy himself elsewhere.

He didn't have time to listen to gossip, but Shi Qingxuan seemed dead set on telling him whatever juicy drama she had on her mind. Wasn't she supposed to be…well, managing a business? Ah, he had to give it to her, she did do a good job advertising. “Xie Lian! Xie Lian…Xie Lian, won't you hear me out! This could be so good for the café!”

This made him stop in his attempt to remove a very aggressive dark stain on the countertop from a spill one of their trainees had forgotten to clean up, glancing over at Shi Qingxuan. She was pouting her bottom lip, giving him what was possibly the most convincing pair of puppy eyes he'd ever seen. They rivaled even that curly haired youth's, who trailed after his exasperated mentor day in and day out.

"Alright,” Xie Lian wiped his hands off on a paper towel, though it did nothing to get rid of the leftover stickiness.

“What is this magical booth about?” He indulged, and Qingxuan's blue-green eyes sparkled in delight.

“Well, you see—ever since that guy has been coming around, he's attracted a lot of attention. We're packed until we close these days.” Shi Qingxuan began.

That, Xie Lian couldn't argue with. He'd seen it happening in real time. Women, men, once even an older lady who came up to tell him what a strong character he had. They flocked to him like bees to honey, though it might be more like mice to a cheese trap, with how often they were trembling from head to toe making their shy, obviously unwanted approach.

He couldn't help but eavesdrop, his breath seeming to stall in his chest anytime someone dared to take a chance.

Hua Cheng didn't bother to fix his posture unless he saw Xie Lian in view, always draped like a lazy feline over his signature booth. He was visibly unmoved by the displays of ardent affection thrown his way, not even wasting energy on a pitying smile as he waved off the newcomer in disinterest, going back to whatever it was that he was doing.

Each time without fail, Xie Lian found himself slumping in relief. Why? He didn’t know, not without opening the box he had locked and thrown away the key to.

He knew he had no sort of claim over Hua Cheng, and as far as he was aware the man was not in any sort of committed relationship. He could have whoever he desired, and he very obviously didn’t have to try all that hard.

After a moment, Xie Lian nodded slowly, urging her to continue. Shi Qingxuan did so happily, clasping her hands together, “People have been leaving notes for him on the table. Candies, flowers, all sorts of things. I've never seen him take anything, and honestly, I've been a bit neglectful leaving them there when we close up shop. Since, you know, it's kind of cute and—”

She was rambling now, and despite the weird ache in his heart at the idea of Hua Cheng receiving all of those gifts and one day accepting them from someone, he forced himself to keep listening on the off chance he missed something of importance. “But it's not just him anymore!” Shi Qingxuan exclaimed. “I've seen tons of students write a letter and leave it there for someone they like, or bring their partner to sit at that spot. You wouldn't believe how many confessions I've overheard—”

In an instant, something clicked in Xie Lian's mind.

He didn’t dare to hope too deeply, not yet.

It just…seemed too impossible.

"Only…letters?” Xie Lian questioned, and Shi Qingxuan avidly shook her head.

“No, all sorts of stuff! I even saw a girl drop off what looked like a small clay sculpture to some art major.”

He was pensive for a while after that.

The rest of the day went by at a snail's pace, and for once all he wanted to do was head back home and relax. Xie Lian caught a glimpse of Hua Cheng taking his leave from the café about a half hour to close, briefly stopping on his way to the door as though he'd forgotten something.

He felt strange watching him from afar and not saying anything, but the absence of noise around allowed him to hone in on the youth's smallest movements. Delicately, the silver bracelets he wore lightly clinking together, Hua Cheng extracted something from his pocket and maneuvered to rest it gently on the table. Then, he tugged at the collar of his coat and made his way through the wide double doors.

Xie Lian was holding his breath, waiting for him to be on his way. It was putting it lightly to say he scrambled towards the booth before one of the waitresses noticed what they thought might be trash getting left behind.

He exhaled at the sight of a tranquil, pure white rose.

The paper was soft against his fingertips as he lifted it by the stem, smiling warmly while twirling it, examining the carefully woven details throughout.

Once or twice, he got a nauseating feeling in his gut. What if these flowers weren't meant for him, and he'd just been picking them up and stealing them for himself?

They could be for someone Hua Cheng liked and was hoping to convey a message to—someone who wasn't him.

It was completely plausible, really.

There wasn't a good reason for someone as desirable as Hua Cheng to be seeking anything from him, aside from a halfway decent coffee. But then, there were the tips.

The way a flower was laid across the bill, and the notes left on the receipts that were always directed at him even if he wasn't the one taking Hua Cheng's order—

’Gege’s service was excellent today. Please don't work too hard. -SL'

’Gege is getting better at manning the espresso machine. He can always rely on this San Lang to fix it, though.’

’Please surprise me today. I want whatever gege thinks is best. :)’

’Gege looks worn out. Remember to take a break.’

Xie Lian could recite them in his head now, having kept every single one and pinned them to the bulletin board he kept hanging next to his desk. He stared for a bit too long, mostly because Hua Cheng's handwriting was…just the tiniest bit inscrutable, but he had also begun to view them as a mantra when in need of a pick me up. He could almost hear Hua Cheng's voice softly brushing next to his ear, mellow and soothing, keeping him moving forward.

Shi Qingxuan closed on time for once, latching the front doors and turning the ‘open!’ sign to the other side. Xie Lian was waiting for her cue to go ahead and grab his things, and she smiled brightly at him as she turned around.

“Ready to go!” She said, almost skipping over to him.

He smiled a little when she took his hand in hers, by now used to her casual displays of closeness.

Having spent so much time without interaction of any kind, Xie Lian couldn’t even begin to express how much the small gestures meant, the living proof that someone found pleasure in his company and genuinely wanted to have him there for more than just collateral.

Shi Qingxuan was a breath of fresh air, and while a tad overwhelming sometimes, Xie Lian had nothing but adoration for her in his heart.

“Ready to go.” He echoed, letting her lead him in the direction of the tiny room where they kept their things.

They'd spiffed it up, making a rather cozy nook out of what was once just a closet. Rainbow lights were hanging inside, casting a nostalgic, inviting glow in the gloom.

He had a feeling they were there to stay, and wouldn't be taken down when the holidays were over.

Xie Lian liked them. Liked the name tag attached to his uniform, the one Shi Qingxuan made herself, for him and all of their current staff. It had green glitter glue around the edges and tiny sticker hearts, and she had held it up so proudly to show him, begging him to wear it.

He liked the coffee stain on the front of his shirt that he just couldn’t get out no matter how many times he'd put it through the wash, because it was from the day espresso splattered all over him—the day he met San Lang.

He liked the collage of photos taped messily to the walls, holding precious moments in them in an eternal state of pure bliss. There were several of him and Shi Qingxuan.

In one she had whipped cream on her face, trying to lick it off, as he laughed and laughed while holding up the half emptied can. Another showed one of their older employees, Ling Wen, sitting on the counter with Yushi Huang, a young, soft-spoken woman who had brought much greenery into the café. They were drinking a mystery concoction from a brew Xie Lian made. It was paired with a companion photo, showing the very moment both of their faces turned green.

He still didn't know what went wrong with that…

Xie Lian's gaze slid over. A row of pictures displayed him, Shi Qingxuan, and a few others in an arcade. They'd all squeezed together into a photo booth and were trying to make faces, constantly bumping into one another as they struggled to fit in the frame at the same time.

Right underneath it, there was a blurry picture of Shi Qingxuan and her brother playing a dance game.

She was holding his arms so he wouldn't fall, head thrown back in glee, while he was looking very much out of his element and struggling to keep up.

Somehow, a picture of Ling Wen's dog had also made it into the mix—Xie Lian was sure that Shi Qingxuan must have found it adorable and pleaded for a copy. He bit his lip to prevent a laugh when his eyes scanned further down and found Lang Qianqiu, a recent hire, passed out asleep in a booth while Shi Qingxuan drew on his face with a sharpie and held up a finger to her lips, begging everyone around to be quiet. He could see himself in the background with an exasperated expression, trying not to be amused.

“—Lian?”

“Xie Lian!”

Xie Lian turned to the side, blinking slowly.

Shi Qingxuan's brows were raised high beneath her bangs, and she giggled, “You went away for a second. Are you tired?”

“No, just…” He wracked his brain for an excuse and found none. So, he opted for the truth, instead of evading it. “The pictures.” Xie Lian gestured vaguely at the wall, and Shi Qingxuan hummed thoughtfully.

“Oh, you were looking at them!" She said, and he nodded.

Her eyes lifted, fondly tracing the same path.

“I don't have any photos in my apartment. It's nice, just to see them here in a place I'm so happy in.” He admitted quietly, returning to gazing at the once blank wall.

He noticed Shi Qingxuan's sympathetic expression, but he paid it no mind. “Are you not happy at home?” She asked tentatively, not wanting to ask the wrong question, and Xie Lian tensed instinctively.

He moved to face her, and she did the same. “No! No, it's not that—I only meant, it…” Xie Lian struggled for the right words, and Shi Qingxuan tightened the grip she had on his hand. It was warm.

“It…doesn't really feel like yours?” She guessed, right on the mark. Xie Lian could only dip his head, lightly pursing his lips together. They'd been friends since before he started working at the café, and he knew he could tell her anything—after all, she put no effort towards saving him from the most personal details about her day to day life.

She was aware of his past situation with Mu Qing and Feng Xin, even what came long before that, and how the apartment was passed over by the landlord when they left.

In his lowest moments he'd cried into her shoulder, and he'd cradled her through hers. When she was so sick one week she couldn't get out of bed on her own, Xie Lian stayed with her, helping her wash off, spoon feeding her soup.

He had to promise ten times over that he didn't make it before she took small sips of the broth as he replaced the damp rag on her forehead with a newer, cooler one.

The days he was quiet, the days he was doing his best just to be, Shi Qingxuan didn't ask questions. She knew Xie Lian would tell her, when he was ready. Sometimes, that was never, and neither of them pushed the matter.

They had made it through so much, it felt wrong not to be honest with her. People would call Shi Qingxuan airheaded and silly, and she could be, but that didn't overshadow what Xie Lian felt was her core. She was so effortlessly kind.

So accepting, so pure hearted and full of life. He couldn't even be envious of her, because she brought him along to breathe it in at her side, restoring the excited child within him that had always longed for easy but meaningful friendship. A friend that didn’t care about his status, or how many times he'd tripped over his own feet, stumbled and rolled around in the dirt to get where he was at now.

Shi Qingxuan leaned against his shoulder, saying determinedly, “I'll print duplicates so you can have your own copies. Next weekend, let's redecorate your room a bit.”

Xie Lian raised a brow, and she added with a friendly groan, “We'll keep it under fifty.” She promised, lifting her unoccupied hand and extending her pinky.

Shi Qingxuan eyed him expectantly, and he interlocked his own with hers, laughing with his full chest,

“Deal.”

A while later when Xie Lian opened the door to his room, he didn’t immediately flatten himself on the bed as was standard procedure. Instead, he stepped over to the nightstand beside it. Standing on top of it was a bronze looking vase with varying patterns winding around its wide base, and in it stood a collection of white paper flowers.

Sixteen of them, arranged in what was starting to look more and more like a proper bouquet, one for every week the past four months. Xie Lian slowly extracted the rose he had kept safely stowed away in his bag, reaching out to add it to the vase when he noticed something abnormal on one of the others already there. What appeared to be writing on one of the petals actually turned out to be a set of three numbers, as he cautiously peeled it back to get a better look at the anomaly. His heart jumped in his chest, catching up to the meaning before his brain did.

Had he…

Xie Lian sat down on the edge of his mattress, lifting the vase and resting it in between his legs. He scanned each lovely offering, every petal, until he found two more strings of numbers hidden among the flowers. Hua Cheng had left him his phone number. His phone number—

He had to bite down the biggest smile seeing how he'd also put down a one, two and a three in parentheses to designate the order so he wouldn't spend additional time figuring it out himself, possibly messaging a complete stranger in the process of elimination.

God, how long ago had he left this?

Had Hua Cheng been waiting for Xie Lian, and not the other way around? He prayed that it wouldn’t be completely out of the blue to text him, but in his haste he was struggling not to send a million right off the bat. When he no longer feared ruining his first, or second impression, really, he made a contact for Hua Cheng. His fingers trembled as they fumbled along the keyboard, retracing his words several times to ensure he made no mistakes.

8:27 pm.
Me: Hello! Is this Hua Cheng?

Xie Lian waited. He waited so long that his arm grew tired from holding his phone, and he set it down for a couple minutes. He waited, staring at the wall for some time, rolled around on the bed, lay flat on his stomach, and then winded up in a position where he was half hanging off the edge, his legs lifted, feet pressed to the headboard of his mattress.

Read at 8:45 pm.

Xie Lian checked back in on the chat, saw that his first message had been read but gone unanswered, and swallowed hard. A glance at the top corner of his phone screen told him it was now 9:10 pm, which probably meant…well…

Maybe there was still a chance? Xie Lian reasoned to himself that Hua Cheng might just be preoccupied.

He waited a bit more, and then decided he might as well be productive and make himself something to eat and take a shower.

He had done this and a few other nightcap activities before he heard the telltale chime of an incoming message.

Xie Lian all but flew into the bedroom, carrying a bowl of chips from a bag Shi Qingxuan left there one night during a drinking binge they embarked on together. He set them down on the desk propped up against the far wall, yanking his phone off the cord and hurrying to tap the notification before it even disappeared from the screen.

11:16 pm.
San Lang: Yes. Who is this?

The message was more clipped than Xie Lian was anticipating, but then, it probably had been a while since Hua Cheng left him his number after all. He likely wasn't prepared for a text from him at random.

11:17 pm.
Me: Ah, this is Xie Lian…actually, I’m not sure if you knew my name, since you always called me something else…anyway, I work at the coffee shop in town? You helped fix our espresso machine. I'm so sorry to bother you with this, I wasn't even positive the number you left was meant for me to see!!

He was typing faster than he was really processing the words or how many of them he was using, desperate to keep Hua Cheng on the other line—a part of him was just afraid he might block the number if he took too much time to explain his intentions. However, when he saw the small wall of text after pressing send, he groaned softly. If he didn't lose Hua Cheng's interest already, he certainly would now.

Ding!

On the contrary, it would seem. Xie Lian was taken aback at how instantaneous the response was, and when he looked down, he could see that Hua Cheng was already typing another message after the initial one.

11:17 pm.
San Lang: Gege??
San Lang: Gege! I'm so sorry. I didn't think it would be you, otherwise I would have answered sooner.

11:18 pm.
San Lang: Lately, there have been a lot of prank calls and texts coming through to this number, so I've thought about changing it. Gege texted at a good time!

Xie Lian almost sighed in relief, inhaling a much needed breath. Hua Cheng appeared all too enthusiastic about his messaging, so there shouldn't be any reason to worry about that anymore.

Bowl of chips long forgotten, Xie Lian curled up onto the bed and brought his phone into both hands, his smile too big to contain.

11:19 pm.
Me: Oh, it's okay! I thought that might be the case, but I didn't think my introduction through, and I didn't know if it was welcome– I had no clue what to say ahaha

11:19 pm.
San Lang: Gege is always welcome. How come he won't call this one properly? I would have known right away if he had.

Xie Lian thought about his question for a moment, and then pressed the top of his phone to his forehead as he squeezed his mouth shut in a tight frown.

Ah, why hadn't he?!

He'd been pretty nervous, worrying that Hua Cheng might be put off rather than happy to be called a nickname by an unfamiliar number.

11:20 pm.
Me: I'm really sorry, San Lang! I wasn't sure what you would think if I sent a message like that without warning.

11:20 pm.
San Lang: Gege sure does think far ahead. He shouldn't worry as much next time, he's the only one who can call this one San Lang.

Xie Lian let the phone drop slightly in his hand at that. He…was really the only one? So far Hua Cheng had given him no reason to think he was being untruthful, as much as his cruel subconscious insisted it must be so. He and Hua Cheng didn’t know each other very well, either—Xie Lian had no clue what a lie from him would entail. He knew there was every possibility of being deceived, but something made it so incredibly easy to believe in him.

Hua Cheng must have taken his brief silence as a prompt to steer the conversation in another direction, even if Xie Lian actually wanted to ask more about what he said. Was Hua Cheng overthinking things as much as him?

The thought drew a soft laugh from him.

11:21 pm.
San Lang: I figured gege just wasn't interested in texting. I hadn't heard from him, and I didn't want to intrude upon his work.

11:21 pm.
Me: Not at all, I am!! Interested, that is!

Ah, that was a bit…excited sounding…

11:21 pm.
San Lang: Oh? :)

11:23 pm.
Me: If I'm honest with San Lang, I just found his number today. I didn't know how long it had been since he left it, and thought he might not be looking forward to a text ^^;

11:24 pm.
San Lang: Gege has a point. This San Lang wasn't expecting gege to message, it was a very pleasant surprise.

11:24 pm.
Me: Ah, San Lang…

11:24 pm.
San Lang: Gege? :)

11:25 pm.
Me: Exactly how long ago did you leave it? Your number?

11:26 pm.
San Lang: Hm, well...I distributed it in three parts, over the course of three weeks. This one didn't want just any random trash getting a hold of it, so I figured if gege saw the notes while closing up, he might realize what the numbers meant even if he threw the flowers away.

With Hua Cheng's explanation, the last piece of the puzzle clicked together.

So that was why! He'd said that he was having issues with his number, so it made perfect sense for why he tried to slowly filter it through to him.

Even so, that meant that he'd already missed out on months of these easy back and forth conversations with him, and he was keen to make up for that. His attention lingered on the last few words of Hua Cheng's previous message, the ache in his heart now a familiar thing.

11:27 pm.
Me: San Lang, that's so clever! If only I'd been smart enough to figure it out, we could've talked a lot sooner… :((

11:27 pm.
San Lang: Gege praises me. But he shouldn't beat himself up. We have plenty of time to talk now ♡

Xie Lian's eyes rested on the little heart at the end of Hua Cheng’s message for an unhealthy amount of time, perfectly aware of the warmth that shot to his cheeks and ears. And, with that pause, Hua Cheng pressed in with another question,

11:31 pm.
San Lang: If gege only found my number today, does that mean he's kept the flowers?

11:31 pm.
Me: Of course!! I meant to say something about that before, San Lang. The flowers are so beautiful, how could I think of throwing them away?

11:31 pm.
San Lang: I'm glad gege likes them!

Xie Lian briefly closed his messages to pull out his camera, leaning over to take a picture of the vase at a decent angle. He made sure the image was saved, then resumed typing another reply,

11:32 pm.
Me: I love them. Look, San Lang! I have them next to me ^^
Me: [file attached.]

San Lang is typing…

Xie Lian watched and waited, then became a little anxious. Did he overstep, or say the wrong thing?

He was about to type an apology when another message showed up at the bottom of the screen, and he had to stop himself from grinning.

11:38 pm.
San Lang: Gege is a master flower arranger~ this San Lang will make him some more soon. Sorry for the pause, something troublesome had to be dealt with.

Xie Lian was going to ask him if everything was alright, when he noticed a file loading in. A picture soon popped up beneath Hua Cheng's last message, and he snorted aloud—evidently, the ‘something troublesome’ was a small black cat, probably just a young kitten, being held by the scruff.

Its fluffy pelt was sopping wet, singular amber eye wide in alarm. Hua Cheng's arm was in the frame, water droplets clinging to his skin as he held the creature up to further humiliate it by taking a picture.

11:39 pm.
San Lang: [file attached.]
San Lang: E-Ming decided that the perfect place to sit was the edge of the bathtub. I tried to warn him. He ended up going for a swim.

By this point, Xie Lian was laughing so hard there were tears forming in his eyes—he wanted to scold Hua Cheng for embarrassing the poor thing on camera, but it really was too funny. Unfortunately, his mind decided to focus on something irrelevant about the situation. Was…Hua Cheng in the bath?

And texting him at the same time?

The thought brought another wave of heat to his face, and he tried not to focus too much on the mental picture forming in his mind, one where Hua Cheng was leisurely sprawled in a tub, very much without clothes, of course, because it would be strange if he had any on. He was smiling, relaxed and maybe laughing quietly at something idiotic Xie Lian had said—and then, his cat took a spill, very likely howling its little head off.

11:39 pm.
Me: Poor E-Ming…San Lang, don't treat him too badly!

11:40 pm.
San Lang: How could I say no to gege? I dried him off, don't worry. He's lazing around now I'm sure.

11:40 pm.
Me: Ah, San Lang. I've been meaning to ask you something?

11:40 pm.
San Lang: Gege can ask me anything.

11:40 pm.
Me: Ironically, it's about that. Does San Lang…maybe know me from somewhere? Have I met you before?

San Lang is typing…

11:41 pm.
Me: It's just that we've only talked once, and I never said anything about my age. How did San Lang know he's younger?

The three dots at the bottom of the screen signifying that Hua Cheng was writing briefly paused, then resumed. Xie Lian was holding his breath.

11:42 pm.
San Lang: Gege really doesn't miss a thing. Yes, we've met before…though I'm not sure gege would remember me.

11:42 pm.
Me: San Lang! We've really met?

11:42 pm.
San Lang: Yes.

San Lang is typing…

11:43 pm.
San Lang: Would gege like to hear about it?

Chapter Text

Xie Lian felt like his heart had been caught on barbed wire, a thrilling shock of anticipation trembling through it. He could hardly believe that after months of hopelessly longing to know more about Hua Cheng, he was giving him the opportunity to ask all the questions he wanted.

‘No’, he chastised himself. Some liberties were a given, like the intended purpose of the outing he and Hua Cheng had arranged. What he couldn't allow to be opened any further was the cracked lid containing all of his boundless curiosity for the man, and he worried that if he was treated with too much room to poke and prod, that floodgate would give way to a torrent.

He didn’t want to scare Hua Cheng off, not when he was so close to knowing what impossible way they'd crossed paths in the past.

Xie Lian had gone over Hua Cheng's confession enough times to commit the individual letters of his text to memory.

Hua Cheng claimed to be younger than him, but never outright stated by how many years—or, he presumed it was years.

It was possible that they might have met in college, but he thought that didn't add up either. There was absolutely no way Xie Lian wouldn't remember encountering someone like Hua Cheng, and that was that. It was undebatable.

After agreeing with a very enthusiastic ‘yes’ to Hua Cheng's last message, they had settled on a day both of them were free to meet up.

Xie Lian wasn’t exactly sure what they were going to be doing, only that the man had assured him it wouldn't be anything too extravagant (though he insisted that one day he would take him someplace that required their finest attire) and Xie Lian had to pace around his room in a flustered, aimless tizzy before telling Hua Cheng not to waste so much effort on him.

Hua Cheng replied with the reverence that Xie Lian had, admittedly, started to expect—and assured he wouldn't do anything against Xie Lian's will, only that he hoped to treat him to the luxury he deserved.

Although he quietly disagreed with the last segment of that comforting message, part of him had instantly relaxed, reveling in the way his new friend always seemed to know exactly what to say to dispel his anxiety.

Xie Lian was far, far removed from that sort of life.

The life where fancy parties existed in abundance and buzzed with galavanting guests smiling their fake smiles as they networked with the high ranking attendees, exchanging business contacts and lamenting the fine taste of the quality champagne served on silver trays.

The thought was almost enough to make him shudder. He'd endured plenty of them, enough to know he would rather be anywhere else. But then when he thought about gate crashing one with Hua Cheng, raiding the drinks bar and then spending the next couple hours outside chatting on the balcony while they avoided their stuffy company like the plague, it didn’t sound so awful.

He didn’t think Hua Cheng would take him anywhere nearly as meaningless and trivial as that, but the man clearly had an eye for decadence if the pictures he'd sent Xie Lian so far were anything to go by.

Xie Lian had caught glimpses of the decor in the background of Hua Cheng's snapshots, allowing him a peek into the man's apartment.

The space was all decked out in rich colors and emanating a sort of sophisticated glamour, not so different from the man himself.

It wasn’t over the top to the point of being gaudy or harsh on the eyes—rather, if Xie Lian was going to settle anywhere nice like that, that sort of color palette would wholly appeal to him if he didn’t prefer things clean and simple. Hua Cheng had great taste in everything, it seemed, from the dangling silver at his ears to the not quite opaque silken curtains hanging over his bed.

And how, you might ask, did Xie Lian know what Hua Cheng's bed looked like?

Well,

A couple days prior, (now officially a week following their establishment of a more or less concrete plan to join up outside Qingxuan's coffee shop) an image popped up at the bottom of their chat; Hua Cheng sprawled along a deep crimson bedspread, lounging in a robe of similar color. Xie Lian remembered vividly the exact moment the picture had been sent, because he'd fumbled with his phone so badly he nearly dropped it on his face where he was laying in bed.

E-Ming was nestled comfortably in the crook of his shoulder, and Xie Lian could just barely see the slight smile on Hua Cheng's curved lips—regrettably, the rest of his face wasn’t visible, but honestly, Xie Lian wasn’t sure if he could take seeing him in his entirety in such a casual environment.

It was already bad enough that the pale skin of his neck was fully exposed in that should-be innocent little snapshot, the silk robe slipping dangerously to the side to reveal a sliver of cleavage as he leaned over and extended his arm in order to get a decent picture of his scruffy, unruly kitten finally resting after a tiring day of causing his master as many grievances as possible (according to Hua Cheng.)

Xie Lian's mind was not doing him any favors by conjuring up a suitable replacement for the rest of the picture.

As if he was clueless to the power he had over Xie Lian's mind and lately, body, the file was accompanied by a simple, sweet message,

San Lang: Gege has insisted on his daily update of E-Ming, so this San Lang is upholding his request. This cat likes sleeping in strange places these days. How is Ruoye?

Ruoye, his pure white snake with an insatiable taste for mice, was currently sleeping beneath a heated lamp in her enclosure, and once he was finished staring shamelessly at Hua Cheng's chest, he briefly abandoned the comfort of his covers to take a picture of her and send it.

Me: [file attached.]

Me: Ruoye is also sleeping! E-Ming looks so comfy, you better not disturb him, San Lang.

San Lang: Only because gege asked, I'll leave him be. For now. As soon as I get fur up my nose, he's losing the privilege of resting where he pleases.

Not too long after seeing a picture of a drenched E-Ming, Xie Lian had snapped a picture of his own prized companion to show his friend, and Hua Cheng responded eagerly enough that these ‘pet updates' had become routine for them at the end of a long day. At this point, it was really just an excuse to talk to him a bit longer as he winded down, laying back on his mattress with an adoring smile, watching those three tiny dots dance at the bottom of his screen, signifying that Hua Cheng was typing up a reply.

Xie Lian picked the details of that initial photo for so long that he eventually spotted the faint pattern of silver butterflies and other unknowable beasts printed elegantly into the pattern of Hua Cheng's inner attire, reminiscent of the jewelry he wore nearly every day he saw him at his usual booth.

It suited him, Xie Lian thought. So would literally anything else, and he was quite sure of that, but this especially resonated with the image Hua Cheng had carved in his mind. Wild, with a trace of ruthlessness outlining the sharp edges of his unwavering smile and the deep, dark depth of his eye.

There was something so wonderfully addictive about him and the stark difference in the way he spoke with Xie Lian in contrast to his general indifference towards others, how his taciturn expression shifted to one of ease as their eyes met across a room.

Xie Lian had spent enough time watching from a distance to be able to connect the dots. He came to the miraculous conclusion that he had, against all odds, captured the attention of an enrapturing personality. And to know he really did have some connection to him...well, he was a simple person after all—of course he wanted to know what it was, and why it was there.

He wanted to be someone to him.

Xie Lian sighed, suddenly resigned. Maybe he was getting hopeful, thinking he might be something special—but why else would Hua Cheng continue to indulge him if he wasn't at least somewhat interested in him as a person?

He'd made it very clear that the price of his affection was sorely won by any normal means.

Xie Lian didn't understand it. What set him apart from everyone else? Why had Hua Cheng so willingly given him a piece of himself, and what purpose did these casual yet inexplicably deep conversations have, if there wasn't any hidden future attached to them?

The more he dwelled on it, the fuzzier the puzzle he had taken to putting together in his mind became.

Opting to put the matter aside, Xie Lian turned over onto his side and silently navigated to a nifty little video app to catch up on Shi Qingxuan's latest blog.

She excitedly directed him to her page the other day, showing him her posted makeup and fashion tutorials.

It was a pleasant surprise to see how popular her guides were, and she'd even suggested he participate as a guest on a live stream to show him how the process worked. Naturally, he declined.

He preferred to stay out of the public eye if possible, not that anyone would easily recall his face anymore. Still, he wasn't too sure how much anxiety (and pop culture references) he could take while having an audience commenting on his every move, watching like hawks for flaws.

Xie Lian was never much for technology until he acquired Hua Cheng's number and came in need of a better camera—at least, that's what Shi Qingxuan said.

She was the one who recently thrust upon him the responsibility of a smartphone as what was apparently an early Christmas present, pleading with him to put to rest his absolutely ancient relic of a phone.

His old one took some getting used to at first, but it worked well for what little he needed it for, and no matter how many times he dropped it, it never broke in a way that couldn't be fixed with a bit of tweaking.

He attempted to convey this to an unyielding Shi Qingxuan, who shook her head gravely and dragged him off to pick a cute case as well as a charger (she'd had to gently explain that there were different kinds when he asked why the one he had wouldn't work.) In the end he settled on a protective cover with a ferret and a fox printed on a backdrop of a field of grass and wildflowers, depicted in a simple, cartoonish style.

Several hours later, they'd transferred the few things he would miss over to the new device. Mostly personal contacts, a sparse handful of photos and music files he'd downloaded ages ago.

“You really listen to this, A-Lian? Are you like, a thousand?” She'd asked with no real intent but to tease, pressing play on one of the audios in the storage of his old phone—the what should have been peaceful sound of a guqin accompanied by a soft, lilting voice grinded out through the shot, grainy speaker, and Xie Lian scrambled to snatch his ‘dinosaur’ of a phone back.

The same day, they went thrifting around town and even a ways out of the city, making good use of Xie Lian's fifty dollar spending limit.

By the time the sun was setting on the horizon and it was becoming much too cold to be outdoors, Shi Qingxuan helped load his haul into the rickety elevator on the ground floor of his apartment complex and happily began assisting Xie Lian in the arrangement of their finds.

He'd collapsed on his bed at half past two in the morning with his best friend in tow, smiling softly as she cuddled up behind him and pressed her forehead against the small of his back. Her warmth was so familiar, just like the sleepy sound of her groggy voice telling him he smelled like flowers (peonies, specifically), which didn't make much sense, because they'd been surrounded by dust for the better part of the afternoon and he was sure he reeked more of moth-eaten furniture than anything else.

Xie Lian insisted that she was probably just sleep deprived, and she stubbornly argued that she was wide awake, her voice slurring with how tired she was.

In minutes, her quiet snores vibrated against his backside, and Xie Lian typed up a quick goodnight message to Hua Cheng before letting dreams claim him as well. When he woke in the early hours of the morning, pale dawn light slanting in through the thin curtains hung over his window, he had the strangest feeling that he had been given a glimpse into something beautiful and precious, just barely out of reach.

All that remained was the impression of a warm, melodic voice pressing in against his ear and the earthy scent of the forest after it rained, campfire smoke and fresh cinnamon. It was the smell of home, one he had never been to, yet somehow knew the moniker belonged to it. Just like the sky was blue and the summer grass was lush and green, in his heart of hearts that blurry image was scored into him like a burnished memory of perfection.

Presently, Xie Lian was sitting beside Shi Qingxuan on the couch—for once, not his. He was over at her place, originally to offer his opinion on a few outfits she couldn’t choose between for a video she'd soon be shooting.

When Xie Lian told her that he wouldn't be able to stay the night as usual, Shi Qingxuan nagged him until he confided in her the reason.

His long awaited meeting with Hua Cheng had finally come, after days of back and forth conversation on where and when it should take place. Shi Qingxuan had properly squealed, and since then he'd been the victim of her vices as she did up his hair (reluctantly settling on a simple, albeit flattering style when he insisted it was not a date) and begged him for more details. Xie Lian considered himself something of a private person, but even he couldn't help but be moved by Shi Qingxuan's excitement, and ended up spilling more than was wise.

Five minutes.

Five more minutes, and he would be making the short walk from Shi Qingxuan's apartment to the little café he had come to consider a home away from home—if his shabby, secondhand apartment could be called such, though it was much improved by the latest additions he and Shi Qingxuan had scavenged.

His leg was nervously jumping up and down now, jostling Shi Qingxuan where she had been peacefully resting her head, and she abruptly sat up with a pouty expression to point an accusing finger at him, “Hey! Is this how you treat esteemed guests?”

“Since when is my knee a luxury resort?” Xie Lian answered a bit distractedly, not taking his eyes off of the television screen—Shi Qingxuan had put some reality show on again. He couldn't recall the name, but it was suddenly very interesting in ways it wasn't earlier.

Shi Qingxuan folded her arms. Xie Lian was rarely bothered by much of anything, but the grin he could see forming on his best friend's face made his skin prickle with an annoyance having more to do with how anxious he felt than the other's knowing gaze.

What kind of nonsense was she thinking now?

“Oh, you're so nervous.”

Xie Lian immediately stopped bouncing his leg. “I-I'm not—”

Shi Qingxuan broke into laughter, “Lian, you're stuttering—”

It was too much, and Xie Lian got up off the sofa in a rush, beginning to pace in front of her. “It's just—” He started to snap impatiently, then checked his tone.

He inhaled a short breath to steady himself, letting it out through his teeth. “I…I mean, he…I…"

Shi Qingxuan slowly raised her eyebrows, smiling with a little more kindness in a silent prompt for him to continue.

“What do you say to a guy you've been talking to without words for almost five months? I'm going to make a complete fool of myself.” Xie Lian groaned, and Shi Qingxuan tilted her head, confused.

“Haven't you been texting him for a while now?” She questioned, ushering him to sit back on the couch. Her arm was outstretched, hand lightly tugging at the puffy sleeve of his white cashmere sweater. It was easily the nicest article of clothing he owned, and Shi Qingxuan had slyly pointed it out as soon as Xie Lian admitted to who he was going to see.

He'd argued pointlessly that it was only natural for him to want to make a good impression, but she had yet again had him at a loss for words when she pointed out that technically Hua Cheng's first impression of him had been frazzled, stained with espresso, and looking like he might snap at the next inconvenience, no matter how small.

Cautiously, Xie Lian resumed his spot beside her and nodded, “Well, yes, but…that's different. It's not like we've…called, or anything,” he lightly scratched the side of his neck. “I have no clue how to really talk to him.”

Thinking about it, that probably would have been the smart thing to do in order to get used to the sound of each other, that way when there was a pause in conversation, Xie Lian wouldn't freak out and assume he'd said the wrong thing—he had no clue what to expect, because he didn't know Hua Cheng.

Not really. He was aware that Hua Cheng knew him from somewhere. He knew that he had an unruly but frankly adorable cat called E-Ming, knew he was usually up at ungodly hours of the night, dabbled in a variety of interesting hobbies, and that he had quite an artist's eye. He also knew, perhaps from the moment Hua Cheng earnestly offered his assistance when he needed it most, that he was completely infatuated with the idea of knowing more.

Shi Qingxuan made a thoughtful sound, a short hum that lingered in the air for a couple moments like a slow drifting feather. A silence settled between them, not so long as to be uncomfortable, but long enough that he had the time to begin beating his foot against the carpeted floor more insistently than before.

Shi Qingxuan countered slowly, “Maybe…he's not any different. For all you know, he's rushing around his bedroom like, ‘Oh my god, I'm finally meeting up with Xie Lian! What do I wear!’” She paused, then added with a huff, “He better be that excited, anyways.”

The revelation made him stop moving altogether, and he fixed Shi Qingxuan with an incredulous gaze, a smile loosening the taut line of his mouth in spite of the circumstances. She had a way of making him forget what he was stressing out about, that was for sure and certain.

He couldn't imagine someone as composed and carefree as Hua Cheng flipping out about much of anything, especially not when it pertained to him, but then, the man had been full of surprises since their first chance meeting at the café.

Or, was it chance?

Xie Lian felt a gentle, reassuring hand touch his shoulder—it was fleeting, nothing he could fully lean into and savor, but it eased him nonetheless. He gradually relaxed beside her.

“You know,” she began with a dreamy smile, a fond twinkle in her eyes. They were a rare combination of blue and green, reminding him of bright, clear aquatic waters in the tropics. “The first time I went to meet up with A-Xuan, I was losing my mind—”

“I know. I was there, Qingxuan.”

“—And later, when we started dating, he told me about how nervous he was that night we went out. Up until that point we'd only texted, too, even though we shared a couple of classes together—”

“I know. You sent me voice notes at three in the morning, screaming about him and how cool his boots were—”

“—The point is, everything went fine!” Shi Qingxuan pressed on, pointedly ignoring his interruptions.

Xie Lian drank this information in like a parched man in the middle of the desert, only catching onto Shi Qingxuan's implications when it was too late to defend himself, because this was definitely not a date and why did she keep assuming that and oh, God, was this a date?!

No, no, Hua Cheng wouldn't have left such an important detail out. He was sly sometimes, yes, a bit shameless even, but he had never gone out of his way to leave Xie Lian in the dark. This wasn't a date.

For some reason, he felt a small stab of disappointment at the notion.

“Do you want me to walk there with you?” Shi Qingxuan asked, and oh, Xie Lian really did adore her. How he got so fortunate as to earn her friendship, he would never be sure.

She was peering at him with her typical cheery, hopeful smile, but he spotted a subtle sharpness there now, too, seeming to say without words, ‘If he tries anything, I'll put those martial arts classes ge made me take to good use.’

Xie Lian shook his head slowly, smiling gratefully in return, “It's alright, I think I'll be fine on my own.”

Shi Qingxuan didn't argue with him, seeming satisfied with his answer. She wasn't nearly as overprotective as a certain pair of old attendants, mostly because she trusted Xie Lian's judgement of character.

In fact, it was his opinion she always sought out, whether that was about what she should do while in a bind, what to wear, how she should handle the case of her leaky faucet in the bathroom—she valued his thoughts on everything except for food, which had always disappointed him, as he would be more than willing to offer a good recipe or two.

A cursory glance at the watch on his wrist (why he checked that instead of the phone Shi Qingxuan bought him was a habit brought on by a general lack of one before) made him jump, “Ah! I'm going to be late if I don't leave now—” he said, standing up so quickly his vision spun.

“I'll come down and see you off!” Shi Qingxuan declared, getting up as well, and Xie Lian didn't have the presence of mind to point out why that was unnecessary. By the time she’d slipped her shoes on he was already halfway out the door, slinging his best coat over his shoulders and rushing in the direction of the staircase when Shi Qingxuan dragged him back towards the elevators by his arm, shaking her head sternly.

The ride to the ground floor was riddled with tension, mainly Xie Lian's, as he vibrated with so much nervous energy it transferred some of the static electricity over to his best friend. Her hair even looked frizzier when they got off.

They walked side by side through the main lobby, the glass doors parting to let them out with a soft hiss of air. “Xie Lian,” Shi Qingxuan started, the rare use of his full name in such a serious tone making him look curiously over at her, brows lifted in question.

She smiled brightly then, dimples pooling at the corners of her mouth. “It'll be great, so stop worrying. If you need anything, you can call or text me.”

Some of the tension in his body naturally dissipated as he soaked in that welcome comfort. He nodded, steeling himself. “Thank you, Qingxuan.”

It was all he needed to say for her to understand what a deep meaning those three words carried, and she beamed brighter than ever. “Go! I'll wait here until I can't see you anymore.”

And she did.

Xie Lian passed a couple lesser known restaurants on his way to the café, as well as the library Shi Qingxuan and He Xuan went to to study before exams—though from what she'd told him, they did a lot more making out in the dusty history section than actual work. Very productive indeed.

A pleasant chill had already crept beneath the warm layers of his clothing when he turned around the second block, reminded of winter's imminent descent upon the city—and then, as he made to cross the street, a voice called from the other side,

“Gege?”

The sound of the familiar address in that voice he wouldn't mistake over a thousand lifetimes made his heart skip a beat and lurch forward unceremoniously in his chest, eyes snapping up from the pavement.

Standing on the sidewalk no more than a few paces away from him, dressed down like a model straight from the highlight of one of Shi Qingxuan's favorite catwalks, was Hua Cheng. His wild, tastefully messy black hair was fully loose with the exception of a small lock braided at the front and decorated with a red bead where it had been tied off, whipping around behind him with an enviable grace in a gust of cold wind.

A few errant strands blew around his face, emphasizing the sharp, entirely impossible features of the man Xie Lian had secretly fantasized about with increasing frequency, because who on earth actually looked that perfect—

“San Lang?” He answered, sounding much more dry than he meant to—his throat felt so scratchy suddenly, cheeks flaming with embarrassment at how weak his voice was, the syllables of the name he adored rolling off his tongue awkwardly. What if Hua Cheng thought he wasn't pleased to see him? He was screwing this up from the get-go—

However, Hua Cheng's expression of mild surprise rapidly turned into one of delight, his dark eye sparkling. If he'd noticed anything off about Xie Lian's countenance, he kept it mercifully to himself.

“What a coincidence that gege is going this way at the same time as me.” he said lightly, and something about the way the words were spoken with a trace of mischief told Xie Lian it probably wasn't, in fact, coincidental.

It had been so long since he properly heard Hua Cheng's voice, not just as an imagined drawl in his head as he scanned over the many messages they had exchanged in recent days, that it had him going rather weak in the knees.

How pathetic he was, swooning over just an innocent greeting from the man—but, how could he not?

Checking that the way was clear first, Xie Lian restrained his innate need to reply until he had made his way over to Hua Cheng.

He stopped next to him on the sidewalk, breathless. “Is it?” He asked with a soft laugh, and the taller man grinned in reply, all teeth, and heavens above if he was staring as hard as he imagined he was, Xie Lian wouldn’t ever be able to look at himself in the mirror the same way again—

“A bit,” Hua Cheng settled with, and that made him curious—he could tell by the quirk of the younger's brow that he hoped Xie Lian would keep asking him questions.

Xie Lian had waited long enough for just that. He gladly obliged, as Hua Cheng gently cocked his head in silent invitation that they walk together. He accepted just as wordlessly, shoving his hands in his pockets so they wouldn't uselessly fidget at his sides. He giddily fell into step beside the other, Hua Cheng slowing his naturally brisk pace to meet Xie Lian's slower one.

"That could mean anything, San Lang.” He pointed out, earning a deep, velvety chuckle that had him faltering slightly.

From this eyepatch wearing beauty of a man, it felt like high praise, and Xie Lian wanted more than anything to see more of this casual, playful side of him he'd had to try and envision over strings of texts.

Xie Lian wasn't a greedy person by nature. He might have been spoiled once, unaware of his privilege, but he never asked for the life he had been born into—even if he appreciated what it had taught him about value.

He didn't think he would ever fall into the shadow of his old ways until Hua Cheng started sitting in that corner booth by the window, folding paper into petals, petals into flowers, flowers into bouquets.

Only then did he find himself craving more. More of those coy smiles sent his way across the room, more of the sweet indulgence of Hua Cheng's misplaced respect towards him. More of him, more than what he was surely willing or able to give. Even after shoving down that thorny, cloying tangle of vines restricting his heart from beating at its usual tempo, making it a task just to breathe in and out normally in Hua Cheng's presence, he felt his desire resurfacing in vain.

If he had had to remind himself of his tentative position as Hua Cheng's friend several times within the span of a few minutes, he wasn't eager to find out what a whole afternoon with the man would do to him and his overworked heart.

He'd surely be a blubbering mess when he flopped on Shi Qingxuan's couch later on, convinced of his hopelessness and determined to forget his woes by any means necessary.

“Gege is right, as usual,” Hua Cheng hummed, startling Xie Lian with how easily he tugged him from that dark place, “Truthfully, this San Lang is a bit ashamed—gege caught him in the act of running late.”

Xie Lian blinked so rapidly, he was positive he must appear foolish, “Ah, wait…you—” he cleared his throat, “So you were walking there, too?”

“Where else would this San Lang be walking to, when his meeting with gege is less than a minute away?” Hua Cheng questioned soberly, and then had the nerve to look miffed, though Xie Lian could tell he wasn't really upset— “Does gege think I would ditch him?”

Now it was Xie Lian's turn to laugh. “No, no, it's…not that. I guess I just assumed that San Lang would have driven over in some fancy car, been chauffeured, more like, and arrived an hour early…”

Hua Cheng realized he was being teased at some point, but Xie Lian thoroughly enjoyed the confused, downright adorable scrunch of his eyebrows as he worked to figure out the meaning of what Xie Lian was saying.

He then sighed rather dramatically, with the air of a troubled maiden. If Xie Lian were watching him from afar, he would have thought he'd just gotten a call that his partner out at sea had been thrown overboard.

“Ah, gege has such a warped impression of me…but, he did get some of it right.” Hua Cheng acknowledged.

“Really? How much?”

“This one does have a decent ride. No chauffeur. I'm the only one allowed to touch the steering wheel,” he began, earning a small, privately amused smile from Xie Lian. “But I only drive when I'm planning to go far. A ten minute walk to gege's café isn't a good reason to bother with it.” Hua Cheng finished explaining with a soft huff.

At last, the meaning behind Hua Cheng's words sank in, and Xie Lian gasped out, “San Lang! You live near here, then?”

Hua Cheng dipped his head, mouth curving into a smile of his own, “Yes. But, I'm more interested in gege—does he also have a place close by?”

Immense regret filled him in light of a sudden revelation, settling in the very core of his stomach like a heavy stone. Right. He'd just come from Qingxuan's.

It was quite a blessing that Hua Cheng was practically across the block from her apartment by the timing in which they ran into each other, but that meant she got that luxury, and not him.

Xie Lian worried his bottom lip with his teeth, going quiet for longer than he realized as he lost himself in his thoughts—it took a gentle, concerned sounding ‘gege?’ from Hua Cheng to draw him away from that steep cliff edge.

“Ah, I'm sorry, San Lang. No, I don't live nearby…I'm about a half an hour away from here, normally.” he started, glancing at the other out of his peripheral vision— and did he detect a trace of disappointment flickering in the darkness of Hua Cheng's iris?

It was gone so quickly he couldn't be sure that what he saw wasn't simply a trick of the light. As if to back up his hypothesis, fractals of warm sun peeked quietly through the overcast sky, casting a bluish sheen over Hua Cheng's black hair, a wavy ocean of the deepest pitch. “I was with a friend until now.” he explained further, watching the slow movement of Hua Cheng's head as he nodded in understanding.

“Is it that energetic co-worker of gege's?” Hua Cheng asked, and Xie Lian pressed his lips together in amusement. ‘Energetic’ was one word for her.

“San Lang has a good memory. Yes, that's Qingxuan—she’s technically my manager, but we've known eachother since before I started working at the shop.” He said, and suddenly, Hua Cheng paused.

Xie Lian noticed right away, what with how Hua Cheng always seemed to consistently be just one step ahead of him, clearing the path—when he wasn't, it felt jarring. Coming to a stop, he asked worriedly, “San Lang? Is everything alright?”

“Yes, gege, it's just…” Hua Cheng looked as though he'd seen a ghost, his pale complexion slightly more gray than was standard. “Qingxuan—does gege mean Shi Qingxuan?”

Unsure of where this was going, Xie Lian nodded slowly, and Hua Cheng drew in a sharp breath of air, releasing it with a quiet hiss.

“That—that absolute…” Hua Cheng appeared to bite his tongue, and Xie Lian didn’t have to be a genius to figure out that he wanted to say some very choice words, and was probably holding back for his sake.

His shoulders were drawn tight, brows knitted in a show of rare agitation. Before Xie Lian could try to comfort him, Hua Cheng exhaled mutely, turning to face him again with a strange expression,

“He Xuan.” He began, very slowly. “Shi Qingxuan, He Xuan's girlfriend?”

Xie Lian's eyes widened. “No,” he took a step closer. “San Lang, are you saying—?”

Hua Cheng nodded solemnly. “I am, gege.”

“She's your He Xuan's—?”

“Partner.”

“You're his—?”

“Roommate.”

“...”

“Oh, my god,” Xie Lian laughed, and soon enough, Hua Cheng was laughing with him, just like that first night they met, bustling about an empty coffee shop while his mysterious, lovely, espresso machine fixing stranger played keep away with his broom so he wouldn't have to do any more work.

“All this time?” He whispered in disbelief, and Hua Cheng gave him a little smile. It was sad around the edges. Xie Lian wanted to smooth out the corners of it, watch it soften under his touch. He held himself back. Barely.

“All this time.” Hua Cheng repeated.

“We could have known eachother sooner." he lamented, before he could properly think over the words—if he had, perhaps he wouldn't have said them so mindlessly. The effect they had was instantaneous; heat rushed to his face, his heart stirred to life and kicked against his ribs. Hua Cheng stiffened, but his expression was not one of dismay like Xie Lian feared it would be.

His lips parted slightly, then closed, an adorable pink flush riding high on his prominent cheekbones. He echoed breathily, “We…could have.”

“San Lang, I'm such a hopeless person,” Xie Lian groaned, putting a hand up to dismiss any well-meaning arguments he could sense building on the man's tongue. Hua Cheng obediently kept his mouth shut.

“I really should have realized sooner—not only does Shi Qingxuan talk about him, but I've met him! And he's talked about you! He never mentioned you by name, and the way you're described...well, it wasn't nearly flattering enough to make the sort of jump needed to connect the dots.”

“You've met him? Gege shouldn't be associating with such trash,” Hua Cheng grunted his disapproval. “He wasn't rude to gege, was he?”

“Oh, not exactly—well, you live with him, so I'm sure you know how he is better than I would. I thought he was just quiet at first, but he's rather blunt, isn't he?” Xie Lian said, contemplative.

The admission that He Xuan might have in some way offended Xie Lian made Hua Cheng bristle, and he insisted in a rush, “Tell me what he's done. I'll up his rent. I won't let him be a nuisance to—”

“San Lang!” Xie Lian admonished, gently interrupting his speech. While he appreciated how quickly the man leapt to his defense even when it came to his own roommate, he'd like for He Xuan to have a bed to sleep in later tonight. “I'm not complaining about him. Actually, it's kind of nice how honest he is. We get along just fine, and he's good to Qingxuan.”

Hua Cheng lowered his hackles at this, nodding firmly. “Alright, gege. Another line of inquiry, then; what lies has he been spouting about this San Lang?”

Xie Lian couldn't stop himself from grinning. As offhandedly as he could, he said conspiratorially, “Oh, lots. Possibly.”

Hua Cheng winced so deeply that the whole of his visible eye was nearly lost as his cheek pulled up with the movement.

Alright, maybe he felt a little bad now. Unfortunately, not bad enough to give up his rare upperhand. “Would gege...care to elaborate?”

“Ah, let's see. Maybe you can tell me whether they are or aren't lies,” Xie Lian hummed, tapping his index finger twice to his chin to mimic the track of his thought process. “He told me his roommate is holding a massive debt over his head, and that he won't let it go for anything. I thought for a while with the way he made you out that you were someone dangerous—mafia, or a loan shark, possibly.” He raised an eyebrow at Hua Cheng. “Truthful?”

Hua Cheng folded his arms over his chest. “Truthful, gege. Except for the last bit, he's prone to over exaggerating. He owes me his pathetic life, ten times over. Do you know how many dinners of his I've paid for?”

“I believe San Lang,” Xie Lian chuckled. “Shi Qingxuan buys food for them both a lot, I've seen how much he eats. He's so thin, too...there should be a study done on his metabolism.”

Hua Cheng snickered, and Xie Lian couldn't help but be reminded of a cackling fox. It made a rather intimidating man look boyish, and in the case of Hua Cheng, impossibly endearing. “I go to the grocery store three times a week just to keep him fed. If he thinks I'm going to let him walk free, he's mad.”

They'd started walking again, still heading steadily in the direction of the café. He wondered if they would stop there, since they encountered each other sooner than originally planned.

Thinking on it, he couldn't recall ever discussing the finer details of their meeting—just that Hua Cheng was going to tell him a bit more about himself, and in turn likely coax a few sentiments from Xie Lian as well.

Xie Lian felt that they were closer now in more manners than one, both in the sense of breaking the ice and overcoming initial nerves. The way Hua Cheng's upper arm sometimes brushed his shoulder reminded him avidly that this was the first time they’d been this close in months, no longer relying on a screen to convey their thoughts. It was as terrifying as it was wonderful to finally be face to face with him, watching in real time as varying emotions played on Hua Cheng's face, rather than trying to imagine them on his own.

Xie Lian swallowed with difficulty. “He's told me a bit about what you do, too. You're an art major, aren't you?” he continued.

Hua Cheng was smiling openly again, softer now.

“Third year. I'm working towards a bachelor's degree.”

“And, San Lang's been in college since he was…?”

The wolfish grin that caused Xie Lian's stomach to roll over itself earlier made another appearance, doing wicked things to his sense of reason, “Gege is really interested in how I know him.”

“I—well, I think that's not abnormal! San Lang, you can't keep withholding such important information—” Xie Lian changed tact in the hopes of saving himself from further humiliation. Thankfully Hua Cheng took the bait, but he had the audacity to appear stunned at the accusation. He was really too much!

“Withholding? I would never withhold from gege.” Hua Cheng argued in a petulant tone, looking wounded.

“Then,” Xie Lian crossed his arms, right as Hua Cheng lowered his and positioned them behind his back. “Give me an answer.” He insisted, in the haughtiest voice he could muster. His father would be proud.

He said that, but wasn't let down when silence fell over their easy back and forth banter. It was so comfortable, so familiar, that he was momentarily distracted from his motivations to get Hua Cheng talking, and wasn't quite prepared when the man offered with an edge of trepidation, “Okay. I'll tell gege. But…slowly. Bit by bit. Will he be patient with this San Lang?”

“Of course I will,” Xie Lian said, without hesitation. Hua Cheng tilted his head, obviously not expecting for Xie Lian to agree that fast to his terms without some sort of compromise.

“You can say as much or as little as you want, San Lang. I only want to know what you're willing to share.” Xie Lian smiled kindly, quietly urging him on.

Hua Cheng evidently gleaned what he needed to from the gentle crinkles following the kind, almond shape of Xie Lian's eyes, because when he spoke next it was in his usual drawl, calm and composed,

“Gege's asked why I know to call him that, if he's never told me his age,” he began. “I know to do so, because gege is turning twenty-eight next July, and this San Lang will be twenty-four in June.”

The brunette gawked in astonishment at his lanky counterpart, who was very pointedly avoiding his gaze, anticipating retribution.

Xie Lian wasn't sure what to comment on first. Did he ask about how Hua Cheng could possibly know this information, down to his birth month, or focus on the veritable age gap between them?

Not because it was particularly large, but no matter how fastidiously he searched his brain for an old acquaintance approximately four years younger than himself, pretty beyond all known scales of measure, inclined towards art, and close enough to him to know these minuscule details about his background—

He kept turning up empty-handed, more bewildered than ever before about the mysterious nature of their shared past.

Hua Cheng's smile turned a tad strained. “If gege is worried, this one can promise he's not some stalker. Gege told me these things himself.”

“Oh, no, I…” Xie Lian pulled himself together, at least enough to soothe the man's worries. He didn’t want him to think he was at fault. “I'm just…wondering how I could have possibly forgotten someone like San Lang. And, if anyone were going to stalk me, I think you would be a safe bet to go with. You're not too impatient. Or unreasonable.”

There was a pause, then Xie Lian heard Hua Cheng snort, “Well—that’s an interesting way of seeing things, gege,” he was laughing spiritedly, and Xie Lian smiled shyly in response.

“Gege shouldn't stress over it. I wasn't anyone memorable, back then. We weren’t attached at the hip, either—we barely spoke, and when we did, gege did most of the talking.” He said this with no remorse for who he used to be, the faceless someone Xie Lian was desperately trying to dredge up and mold a fitting model for, one that bore Hua Cheng's distinctly sharp features, softened by youth. Someone Hua Cheng was for some reason ashamed of having once been, and wouldn’t reveal straightaway.

“'Back then'...” Xie Lian mumbled. “So, it was a while ago? How long?”

Hua Cheng answered with a shaky breath, and Xie Lian sensed he'd hit a wall for the time being. “It's okay,” he said hurriedly, not wanting to push at the subject. “San Lang. If it's too much right now, we can talk about it another day. Or, we won't—San Lang isn't obligated, and I won't pressure him.” He assured.

“Gege…” Hua Cheng's eye flicked to his, then to the ground, frantically moving about. He worried his bottom lip with his teeth, dragging it over the sharp points of his canines. All at once, he deflated, saying with a note of disbelief in his voice, “How did I ever deserve such kindness?”

The wonderment lacing those words was incredibly genuine, portraying a real, aching curiosity. Xie Lian felt himself blush. Hopefully just a little bit, a facet he could blame on the cold wind.

“San Lang,” Xie Lian began to chastise. Hua Cheng smiled weakly over at him, his eye glittering with sincere apology and earnest affection.

“Truly, gege is too good to this San Lang. Someday, I…will have the courage to face him with my past. I promise.”

Xie Lian was coming to realize that Hua Cheng never made promises he knew he wouldn't keep. His heart was awash with warmth.

“Then all I can do is eagerly await that day." he decided, resolute. He found himself quite proud of the soft laugh he fished from the man.

“I'm sure gege won't be waiting long.”

Xie Lian smiled unabashedly. He really was looking forward to it.

They sank into another companionable silence, disturbed only by the sound of cars driving past now and again, fairly sparse for the time of day. Unluckily for Hua Cheng, Xie Lian still had an abundance of questions he was dying to ask.

He'd be damned if he let his chance slip away.

“San Lang came from the city over; true or false?”

“Another of He Xuan's anecdotes?” Hua Cheng guessed mildly, though his approving smile gave Xie Lian the confidence he needed to probe a little more at the subject.

“I did say he's told me a lot,” Xie Lian reminded him. Hua Cheng laughed at his side, both amused and a little begrudging. He felt a bit guilty—He Xuan was going to get an earful sometime soon.

“True, gege. On both accounts. Before that, I lived in the countryside.” He divulged, and Xie Lian made a noise of intrigue. He hadn't really expected something like that from him— Hua Cheng couldn't be more meant for the city.

The last place that made sense for him was some rural house in the middle of nowhere, but then, maybe that was the reason he was so careful in what he revealed of himself—he could have had a poor upbringing, and preferred to keep his troubled history buried in the woods.

“Why did San Lang move?” Xie Lian asked, after a few moments pause. He was looking forward now, eyeing their surroundings. One more side street, and they'd be arriving at the café approximately seven minutes late, respectively—if they had made it there alone, that is.

“I didn't move,” Hua Cheng started, adding in a softer tone, like he didn't want to risk anyone else hearing, “I ran away from home.”

The quiet, burning simmer of bliss warming the inside of his chest slowly seized up, a hollow, throbbing sensation of uneasy sadness churning in his gut.

He'd never felt worse for prying in his life, and once, he’d offered to pay Mu Qing's side of the rent he shared with Feng Xin when he was short on cash—before he started living there, that is, broke and at a loss for what to do with himself. That had been almost directly after the debacle with his attendant's storming off, when he extended his hand in efforts to aid the man's mother with her medical bills. Seriously, you'd think he would have learned to keep his mouth shut by now.

Hua Cheng received his silence as something else entirely, speaking quickly and with the clear intent of taking Xie Lian's mind elsewhere, “This one is sorry, I didn't mean to dampen gege's mood. Allow me to—”

Xie Lian felt as though an arrow had gone through his heart. He vigorously shook his head, saying equally as hastily, “No, no, San Lang—never apologize for answering my questions. I only…” he trailed off, uncertain as to how he should phrase his next sentence.

Hua Cheng, polite as always, waited patiently for him to continue now that he knew there were no direct misunderstandings between them.

The man's firm, unwavering presence did wonders for the frantic thumping he could feel pulsing in his ears like the heavy beats of a drum, and once he felt sure that he wasn't upset in the slightest by where his previous line of inquiry had taken them, Xie Lian exhaled deeply to ground himself.

“San Lang, I'm…I won't ask about the circumstances, or why you felt the need to leave your home. But I am…truly sorry.”

Hua Cheng's answering smile was mind-numbingly sweet, rushing through him like a warm spring breeze. “Gege, you've gotten something wrong,” he started, and Xie Lian was so helplessly beguiled by him that he didn't have the strength to ask why. After all, it was Hua Cheng—he’d surely tell him eventually. If Xie Lian was curious, Hua Cheng would satisfy it to the best of his ability.

“I wasn't upset by gege's questions. Rather, I worried I'd said the wrong thing and caused him discomfort. If gege wants to know the reason for what I did, I'll tell him.”

Xie Lian's eyes were stinging from how scarcely he was blinking, too busy staring in open awe at the wonderfully carefree man walking with his hands elegantly poised behind his back, smiling at him so earnestly—as though there was nothing he could do to possibly make him put walls up, and that the ones that stayed standing would smoothly give way in time.

He'd never met anyone like him. He didn’t think he ever would again.

He didn't need to, nor did he want to, when Hua Cheng was living and breathing next to him, his heart beared on a platter for him to carefully inspect. Xie Lian wanted to cup it gently in the palms of his hands like the priceless, beautiful treasure it was. He had pitifully little to offer in return, but what he could do was be there. He could listen.

“You could never make me uncomfortable, San Lang.” Xie Lian said with a short shake of his head, and it was the only truth. Hua Cheng appeared momentarily caught off guard by the display of trust, quickly schooling his features, smiling with a lax air and a quiet tilt of his chin.

He quipped, “I don't know, gege. This San Lang can be quite a pest.”

Xie Lian rolled his eyes fondly, opting not to play into his game for the time being. There were still things he wanted to hear about, and it was much too easy to become swept away by Hua Cheng's seamless shift of topics if he didn't concentrate on one train of thought.

“All jokes aside, I’m…relieved. I was afraid I'd pried a bit too much. I seem to have a habit of doing so.” he admitted, smiling dejectedly to himself for a moment. Hua Cheng looked like he wanted to say something in response to that, his lips parting slightly as a crease formed between his brow, but Xie Lian pressed on before he had the chance to speak, “But, onto what San Lang said—you’ll tell me why?”

Hua Cheng nodded, and began to explain. Xie Lian could tell that, all the while, he was being careful to avoid the grittiest details, alluding to them vaguely—perhaps for Xie Lian's benefit. He hardly minded.

Anything Hua Cheng was willing to share with him proved to be a gold mine, the easy ebb and flow of their conversation reminding him of just how content he felt when talking with him.

Hua Cheng could read him like a script, pausing anytime he sensed Xie Lian had something else he wanted to know, or needed clarification on.

It had been so long since anyone spoke to him with such unhesitating sincerity.

It had been so long since anyone listened to him—really listened, and didn't have some reservations about him afterwards.

Like every word leaving his lips was a mantra, a prayer answered by the gods on their golden thrones in the sky.

It had been so long since he felt compelled to spill his deepest, darkest secrets, if there was a chance he may get to know some of Hua Cheng's.

He learned about how he grew up in a small town known for its scenic views, produce turnout and nosy, well-meaning neighbors.

They called him ‘Xiao-Hua’, but he had another name, his birth name—which he passed over with a small smile,

"Another secret for the day I confess my sins to gege," and told him instead about one he favored, one Xie Lian was quite familiar with.

When Hua Cheng was seven years old, his mother passed away, and his father remarried a few months later in efforts to fill the gap his beloved had left behind in their lives. The man he had trusted with his life could not raise a young child by himself—maybe he did not want to learn how, but in the end the reasoning for the rift hardly mattered.

Hua Cheng quickly learned how easy it was to idolize someone never around, to dream up grandeur and splendor in order to make up for what wasn't there to examine with blur free vision. He had confused his father for a good man, but did not make that same mistake again—not when he became the object of his rage, the outlet for things never said and done.

He was of lesser value than the vase of dead flowers left on the table by his mother, more difficult to break than the kin he still had on this earth, and therefore a worthier punching bag.

Because that glass would shatter, irreparable, and Hua Cheng was resilient, just as his mother was. He would hold a hand to the side of his face, bruised by a fist, and glare back with fire dancing in the depths of his eyes—

And eventually, he would leave.

The new lady of the household had no love for little Xiao-Hua. He was so like his mother, both in temper and appearance, a permanent reminder and roadblock in the middle of her relationship with his father. She had two boys of her own to pour her energy into, one older than Hua Cheng by a couple years, the eldest by five. Hua Cheng thought they were airheaded, spineless scum.

Mostly, they pretended that he wasn't there, acknowledging him only when they needed a favor, though they made a conjoined effort of shaming him on the rare days he dared show his face at their shoddy, falling apart school.

At some point, he stopped going. Not because he was afraid, embarrassed or angry—but because he had started working at the corner market a few miles from their farmhouse, saving up. Planning a ride out of the hills and valleys that had trapped him, caged him in.

He couldn't care less what she or her spoiled, first-rate trash thought of him. Especially now that he had an exit ticket.

He told Xie Lian so with a wretched, hateful smile—he knew what kind of person she was, had been, and always would be.

She had no love for his father, either.

Instead, she prayed eagerly for the day all the alcohol finally caught up with him—when it did, Hua Cheng was ready. Years ago, he found his mother's will in the drawer beside his bed, the drawer he never used due to the way it stuck stubbornly—he could never get it open no matter how hard he tried.

Once, when he was no older than four, he asked his father about it, and the man made a short attempt at prying it apart so he wouldn't keep nagging him about it. He gave up in no less than five minutes and thirty two seconds (Hua Cheng counted each moment, expecting the reveal to be one he wanted to recall the details of without a single fragment missing), and was greatly let down by the fruitless mission.

It had been years since he even spared it a glance, knowing not to expect anything from something so useless—but then, he noticed it.

The drawer was slightly ajar, had been, since his mother disappeared that week and was found dead several towns over.

Hua Cheng had long decided the mystery of it was a childish fantasy, but it didn't stop him from scrambling to yank it forward—inside, it was empty; all except for an envelope, thick and yellowed with age. His mother's pointed, elegant scrawl was printed across the center. Her living will.

Hua Cheng was ten when he shut the drawer again for good. He kept the letter stowed away beneath a loose floorboard under his bed and re-read it on the nights that were especially difficult without the mother he barely knew.

He was thirteen when it became of use.

The days preceding his father's funeral were some of the most vindicating.

By all rights, the deed of the house, all of his parent's worldly possessions, would become the property of that witch—if there were no decrees claiming it be otherwise. Xiao-Hua, known and beloved, quiet and difficult to approach but otherwise good-natured and hardworking, proudly presented the contents of his mother's wishes on the gloomy afternoon his father was to be buried—

And left town the same evening as one of the richest young masters alive. His mother was a renowned scholar, after all.

A month into his stay at an internet café, searching for places that would either accept underage tenants or be willing to room with them, he sold the farmhouse and kicked three pieces of trash to the curb.

A portion of the money he'd been saddled with went towards his tuition and living fees in the city he embarked toward. Some was stowed away in a vault, or was given to those that were more in need of it than he was.

He knew that was what his mother would have wanted—otherwise, it would have sat in a safe, untouched and unnecessary. There really was too much of it, and he preferred to make his own living over sponging off someone else's. At that point in his story, Xie Lian listened with awe.

While it seemed as though his family had been reasonably well off, choosing to live modestly, the fortune Hua Cheng had acquired over the years was nothing but the result of his own efforts, and he found his fascination and pride growing in equal measure. He really was…incredible.

When Xie Lian asked how he could have possibly avoided being placed in the system, Hua Cheng only grinned and told him people were easily swayed by heaps of cash and a fear worthy title.

After some additional probing and an offhand comment that Hua Cheng was being insincere, the man admitted that he had help—and that was how Xie Lian learned something very interesting indeed about one of his own coworkers.

“Yushi Huang?” Xie Lian gasped.

“En,” Hua Cheng smiled softly. “She took this one in, and more or less signed the adoption papers. Although I suspect she would have done so without the bribery, my first apartment became something of her indoor garden for the years I was under her government mandated care.”

“You're in there all the time, and she never goes up to you,” Xie Lian’s brow furrowed. “Why is that? Do you two not get along now?”

“Nothing like that, gege. We're on very good terms. I've told her not to, as your delightful little café has become my place of study. The only interruption I ever want to have is gege coming to say hello.” There was an unmistakably hopeful edge in his voice that Xie Lian didn't miss.

“That is, if gege would be willing to offer company to this San Lang during work, now that he doesn't have to be shy.”

“I'd be amenable to it,” Xie Lian's grin was so splitting that it made his cheeks hurt, and he found it was a rather pleasant ache, knowing the cause. “But, I seriously can't believe it,” he laughed, “How many of my coworkers have a history with you and didn't tell me a word of it?”

Hua Cheng made a suspicious noise in the back of his throat, suddenly appearing sheepish.

Xie Lian stared at him, and after a moment he shook his head.

“San Lang. There's more?”

“Well, if you also count regular customers,” Hua Cheng acquiesced. “Have you noticed that young man with curly hair, and his companion? He often wears rather dark colors. A bit tired looking.”

Xie Lian frowned, “The one with curly hair is Quan Yizhen—he insists on telling me that every time, even when I'm giving him coffee with a tag printed on it. Just to assure me he's the right person, I suppose. As for the other one…” it took much longer for him to pull that dull, unassuming face to the surface of his mind. When he finally managed to put two and two together, he couldn't help but think, 'Wow. His face is so forgettable he could probably get away with a lot of crime if he wanted to…’

“Yin Yu, right?”

“Mn. He's my designated assistant— partner, whichever you prefer. He's more efficient than He Xuan at grunt work.” Xie Lian thought he heard a bit of pride in his voice, which frankly told him all he needed to know about the reclusive man—he must be good if Hua Cheng said so.

Raising an eyebrow, Xie Lian said reproachfully, “San Lang, tell me you aren't having them running around doing errands for you...”

“They're paid handsomely.” Hua Cheng assured, like there was no discernible issue in paying friends (were they friends?) to do chores for you.

If they'd met when Xie Lian was still under his father's company, he wouldn't have thought much of it—now, the idea made him internally cringe.

Whatever work there was to be done, he could handle it himself, and if he wasn't able to…well, he'd figure out another way to tackle it. He couldn't picture Hua Cheng as being a lazy person, not after what he'd been through and had to do to keep himself afloat. Even at the risk of his personal safety. So, he doubted it was for any standard or superficial reason—it sounded more like Hua Cheng was employing them, rather than using his wealth as an excuse to be idle.

“Yet He Xuan still has debt?” Xie Lian said after a moment, having gotten rather lost in thought as he tried to work out why Hua Cheng would require the use of so many extra hands.

Although he had had no indications that the man would be uncomfortable with questions about what he did, as soon as money was brought into the subject matter, Xie Lian couldn't help but squirm away from it.

“He spends what I give him on food, and then I end up having to buy him more, anyways. It's his own fault, really.” Hua Cheng replied, lip curling in distaste. Xie Lian refused to laugh, even as the ticklish feeling in his chest squeezed painfully, and he let out a soft cough to be rid of it.

The two of them slowly reached the end of the sidewalk, where it widened and disappeared into a patch of yellowed grass.

He could see Qingxuan's café just up ahead, warm and inviting as golden light spilled out onto the streets—the row of glass windows gave him a clear view into the shop, where not a single chair or booth was unoccupied. They'd probably have a difficult time getting seats if they went in.

Xie Lian's gaze lowered, settling on something at his feet. A couple shriveled flowers were poking through the gaps of the cement, resisting the cold front that was passing through. He eyed them quietly, smiling down at the muted colors of the flora—he called them so, even if they were technically classified as a weed. He always thought they were pretty, better than a temperamental bouquet of roses, which withered and wilted within a couple days no matter how much attention they were given.

These were like tiny soldiers. They would survive being drenched by rain and battered by wind, frozen by early morning frosts.

They wouldn’t protest about their environment or the hard dirt they buried their frail roots into, no matter how inconvenient—instead, they adapted, tiny, delicate petals waving in victory, seeming to smile up at him. They reminded him of someone he once knew—someone that he, if given the chance to, might have allowed to upturn his entire world and willingly thrown himself away for.

Xie Lian felt he would, still, if given the opportunity to start all over and choose better—he loved the idea of that too perfect person and what he represented, despite the melancholy ache the memories instilled in his slow to heal heart.

His nameless soldier, boundlessly free. Resolute in his conviction to care for a man too broken to do anything for himself but wallow and long for what he gave away. He was a kind hand offered in his greatest time of need, devotedly three steps behind him, ready to catch him when he inevitably stumbled.

These days when he tripped over his own feet and wasn't caught, he remembered that the man he sometimes subconsciously spoke to both aloud and in his own head was not there to care about whether he lived or died.

He might have done his best to, but his absence rang truer than the childish hope he held onto that they might happen upon each other, tied together by fate. Xie Lian knew that he was gone. Knew that the likelihood of ever meeting with him again was slim to none—he’d lost that chance and gambled it away.

How different would his life be if Mu Qing and Feng Xin had been a minute later? If he'd boarded that bus as he'd had every intention to?

He had been so tired, so stuck in his own head, that he lacked the energy to protest against the will of his friends—and just like that, he didn't fight against being steered in the other direction. Away from that man with the soft, resonating voice and a gentlemanly manner, much, much too good for a fallen, shamed and hated son of an empire. Xie Lian hadn't yet made sense of the fluttering, nauseating feeling taking control of his extremities when their hands so much as brushed over a shared meal.

He was far from being ready to acknowledge it as something—he knew that his unlikely companion wouldn't have been, either. A part of him had been so fixated on just getting him to stay, terrified that one day he would wake up to an empty cot in the cramped room they'd bought for another night.

Throw in an unstable, codependent relationship, and Xie Lian would have been tearing his hair out daily worrying over any prolonged silence between them or an instance where the man had simply gone out to buy them necessities, imagining he'd up and abandoned him, at last tired of playing caretaker—not that he wasn't already, if strictly in the confines of his mind.

He was doing plenty of panicking without the added confusion of a stolen kiss or hour of passion when he wasn't rotting in bed staring at the wall opposite, obsessing about everything and nothing.

In short, he wisely suppressed any troublesome affections he might have had for his dark haired soldier—in favor of them both.

That aside, it was selfish to picture a future in which that person had any sort of desire towards him aside from a clear sense of duty.

He never once implied an interest in him of that nature, and though Xie Lian himself acted above it, it had secretly frustrated him.

Because why, of all people, did he have to begin nursing a pathetic crush for the one person who wouldn't return the sentiment?

Maybe, it had been just that. There was no fear rooted within him that the youth was following in his shadow with expectations, that he longed for something Xie Lian couldn't give him. He stayed out of his way, walking close by like a guard dog ready to spring at any lurking danger. His quiet devotion, the worship he failed to understand, the hands that only dared touch him when he was too weak to walk without help—

They became the bane of his existence when they pulled away, retracting quickly in anxiety like he was a scolded child forbidden to indulge upon what he yearned for most.

Distraught by that simple act of kindness, Xie Lian would demand he make himself useful elsewhere, at a loss as to how to deal with the throbbing of his heart and the heat that lingered in place of his fleeting hold.

He was so cruel to him, to the one person who cared, the one person he cared for, because he was afraid of loving him. Of losing him, which of course, he'd ended up doing anyways.

In the end, it was his indecision that was the most painful.

What he'd given up didn't hit him until a week later, laying in a hospital bed, entirely too thin and being fed fluids from a machine. A nurse came to check on him every hour or so, inspecting his vitals, and then he was left to his lonesome again. He hated it. He had so much time to think, and no one to share those thoughts with anymore—no one to listen.

Not like he would.

Mu Qing always interrupted him whenever he spoke, telling him this and that, how to solve the issue he was dealing with—he cared, Xie Lian knew this for certain, but he didn't sit and offer his time up for sorry tales. He wasn't the comforting type, nor did he pretend to be for his sake.

Generally speaking, Xie Lian appreciated his brute honesty no matter how coldly it came across. Right then, though, he felt too ashamed to admit that he needed to be consoled, not ridiculed.

Feng Xin heard him out without question, but he was much slower to comprehend—much quicker to fret. He dreaded the inevitable twist of concern on his face, thick eyebrows furrowed and mouth pulled in a tight line.

Xie Lian never craved pity, it only served to worsen the poor moods that had become more common than the ones where he was content, finding nothing but disinterest in his surroundings.

If his parents were in the equation, he wouldn't have gone to his father unless he wanted to contemplate his very existence (and why he wasn't in anger management lessons by now) for the next several business days.

Quite literally, given his past occupation.

Which left his mother.

Xie Lian missed her so.

Before he ever spoke a word, she would float across whatever room they found themselves in (sometimes they played board games in the living area, and if he was especially lucky, she'd pull out a bejeweled wooden box filled with gold foils and he would build it as tall as he was able) and place a gentle hand on his shoulder, asking him in that airy voice of hers why he was upset.

Something in the way she smiled told him that she knew without him saying, but wanted him to anyways—if not to just get him talking again.

There was no pressure, no expectations, no presumptions, no walls between them, and Xie Lian usually found himself tearing up before even starting to speak, watching her elegant brow wrinkle fondly.

He felt so safe in those moments, free to fall apart at the seams with no fear of being seen as ruined, inconsolable. A castle without structure, beautiful on the outside and messy halls within, disorganized chaos.

It made no difference if he was a whiny toddler babbling nonsense, or a petulant child who cried over felled golden palaces.

A young teenager with emotions too big for his body, or a blossoming adult right on the cusp of finally growing into himself.

He continued to drift, always thinking he knew better, and she drew him into her arms the same as she always had.

Bringing a hand to the back of his head to stroke through his hair, whispering sweet comforts for as long as it took him to relax in her embrace.

The constant ‘drip, drip, drip' in the silence of room 227, accompanied by mechanical beeping and whirring, had nearly driven him to insanity.

Seeking comfort, he turned to the only other kind face he could think of, and the weight of his loss slammed into him like rocks being crushed against his chest, his heart heavy as lead.

He picked apart the last day he spent with that adorably gangly youth so many times, he doubted there was anything else to learn from it.

At this point he was being foolish. Perhaps aided by the atmosphere of the clinical room he found himself trapped inside, where he had nothing left to do but fantasize and try to ignore the chemical smell of saline and disinfectants, a buried piece of the picture found its way back to him, and he realized all at once why he had suppressed it so thoroughly—

Xie Lian could remember the look on Wu Ming's face when he saw that he wasn't getting on with him. He had peered vaguely over his shoulder, prepared to find the boy's expression addled with rage and disbelief at his betrayal, but there was none of that. He had looked so…sad. Confused.

The fearless, carefully composed, somewhat oblivious soldier who had one commander—fragile as fine china, and making a face like he'd just watched the only thing he adored on this earth being swallowed by an abyss he had no means of throwing himself into.

Xie Lian had done that. He was the cause of Wu Ming's grief, the disgraceful man he'd been ready to follow for eternity.

Once, Wu Ming made a promise to him. Xie Lian had not reacted well to it, but he remembered it with incredible clarity.

He promised that if they were, for whatever reason, separated—he would find his way back to him. Xie Lian had scoffed in derision, saying without a hint of remorse, ”And if we are separated because I've told you to go? What then? Will you be a thorn in my side, and continue this charade for your own benefit? Not even you would be so sticky.”

In a way, it was praise.

Praise meant to repel and uplift simultaneously, reassuring Wu Ming that he didn’t see him as some pest, that he would be surprised if he managed to be shameful to such a degree as hanging around when he was clearly unwanted.

Wu Ming had gone rather quiet, and Xie Lian basked in his small victory, not realizing what it cost. It was rare that he bested the man's strange devotion, and his silence told him what he needed to hear, as though he were speaking in a whisper, ”I'm sorry. I wouldn't.”

Reassurance, that even he would leave, that he would not force his being there if Xie Lian ordered him to be gone. He knew that at some point, he would have to use it as a failsafe. Wu Ming couldn't be permitted to waste his life, not in his name. He was so good, so obviously destined for greatness—some day, he would want to chase it, and if he left, Xie Lian wouldn't be able to help resenting him for going, not if he wasn't the one enforcing it.

He refused to allow Wu Ming to carve himself any deeper into his heart, because at the point Xie Lian began to consider him more than a mere extension to his person, it would be too painful to ask him to stay, to withhold from him the life he deserved. Too selfish.

But Wu Ming continued to surprise him, shock him and uproot everything he had told himself to expect. The youth's hands were threaded in his lap, one visible eye burning a hole through his feet. His voice was so sure, so certain, that it robbed Xie Lian of a fierce retort,

’’If this lowly one is not wanted around, I'd make myself useful in other ways. I don't have to be at your side to watch over you and make sure that you're safe. That's all I need to be at ease."

For a shining moment, Xie Lian wanted to believe him. He did. He had started to, had stubbornly put his faith into the idea that even after the way he turned his back on the man, he would come and rescue him from his insipid stay at a hospital where he had to suffer without him.

But, not only did he have no way of finding him by any usual means, he had no reason to.

The first year he spent without him, Xie Lian convinced himself that Wu Ming was doing exactly as he said he might if he was cast out—staying out of sight, protecting him from afar, never straying too close.

His delusions were short-lived. He knew Wu Ming, and if he saw the sort of messes he was getting himself into every other day, he wouldn't have held his oath of silence for so long. He would have come to his aid. Would have comforted him, talked to him, held him.

He never did, and Xie Lian was eventually made to come to terms with what was so horrifyingly apparent all along—Wu Ming had well and truly left.

This was reality, and it was rarely kind to him.

Until now.

“...Xie Lian? Xie Lian, please look at me. Are you in any pain?”

Hua Cheng sounded so awfully rattled, and it didn't suit him at all. He was…saying his name. He'd never said his name. It was enough. Plenty, actually—it was what grounded him, kept him from drifting away.

Hua Cheng said his name—

Xie Lian's blurred vision gradually focused upon the man's worried face, the one he had fallen for all those months ago, accompanied by the presence of cool hands pressing against the sides of his arms.

He was no longer standing. He realized as much many moments later, when he felt like his weight was going to collapse due to his weakening legs, and forced himself to ignore the instinctive lurching of his stomach—it settled when the impact never came, and he shifted to feel hard wood underneath him. A bench.

“...San Lang,” He was glad to hear that his voice was not some pitiful thing, but fairly sure of itself, if not a little puzzled by this turn of events. Hua Cheng also seemed marginally more at ease when he spoke without hindrance, though the tight set of his jaw remained.

There was a hollow emptiness in his gut that he couldn’t place right away, and it took some additional coaxing from a very concerned art student for him to recount what he remembered of the last ten minutes.

“I'm…not sure. I was looking at something, and I must have gotten distracted. After that, there's nothing.” he admitted, feeling completely useless. His cheeks were warm with shame, and they burned hotter with mortification as Hua Cheng gave him his own version of events to mull over.

“Gege was indeed looking at something. I came and asked him about it, and he didn't reply. He said a name—I couldn't hear it very well, and then he fainted suddenly. Gege is strong-willed, he kept trying to walk while I led him over here,” Hua Cheng murmured. Xie Lian's eyes lifted to his face, round with dismay, and the man's frown melted into a soft smile he knew he didn't deserve.

“Don't even think about it,” He reprimanded calmly, cautiously coming to sit next to him on the bench. Xie Lian immediately missed his steadying touch, but didn't bend so low as to ask for it again.

He'd made too much of a fool of himself without actively trying to seem needy and desperate.

“Think about what?”

Xie Lian managed, if nothing else, to keep the high-pitched crack out of that question. He was sure that to some degree his expression was betraying him, and it wasn't convincing the man that what he'd caught onto was a miscalculation.

“Blaming yourself.”

If possible, Xie Lian's eyes widened further. His throat grew tight with emotion, making it a difficult thing just to swallow around the lump that had obstructed his airway. Hua Cheng didn’t give him any time to dwell on how he had so thoroughly figured him out, continuing to speak with such warmth it was a palpable, living entity,

“Gege was unharmed, that's what's important to me.”

“But,” Xie Lian choked out, “I've—I’ve done nothing but inconvenience you. This was supposed to be…” he struggled to find the words he needed, wanting to say more, do more. He had to actively start making up for this, or Hua Cheng would surely come to resent him.

“Gege thinks he is…inconveniencing me?”

Xie Lian wasn't ready for the pain he heard in those words, as though he had taken a knife and stabbed it right through the man's chest, impaling his heart.

He didn't have the strength needed to look at him and see that same hurt reflected on his face, instead fixing his gaze determinedly on the ground.

They had passed that bunch of little sprouts, and were now sitting right outside Qingxuan's coffee shop under a patterned awning.

He never said it, but his lack of answer seemed to speak for him, echoing in the space separating them, ‘How could I not be?’

Cautiously, Hua Cheng rested the palm of his hand on Xie Lian's knee. His long, elegant fingers draped over the side of it, splaying and then gripping.

It felt more like he was seeking comfort for himself (probably quite an uncommon thing) than making a gesture to comfort him, but it did all the same, and Xie Lian swallowed thickly.

“...I was scared,” Hua Cheng's features were pinched as he confessed to what he perceived as a weakness. He continued, if only to gently bring Xie Lian farther away from that island he'd secluded himself upon. "I was scared, but gege has in no way inconvenienced me. How could he think such a thing?" It was a rhetorical question, Xie Lian knew that. He concentrated on the anchoring touch Hua Cheng was administering, committing it to memory.

“You looked so peaceful, and then, you weren't. I didn't know what to do, and you weren't responding to sound, so I couldn't easily gouge your condition. You started to fall, and I…” Hua Cheng drew in a sharp breath. It seemed to physically pain him to relive it, but he did, just in an effort to put his misgivings to rest. “I'm glad I caught you.”

He looked at him then, and Xie Lian was caught in his daze, watching him candidly. Open. Exposed. Raw.

Everything he'd worked not to be, knowing how it would end. Every time.

But Hua Cheng,

Brilliant, fascinating, obstinate and impossible Hua Cheng, continued to surprise him, shock him and uproot everything he had told himself to expect.

If Wu Ming was the waning moon he searched for in the night, a warm whisper on the wind, then Hua Cheng was the stars guiding his path, twinkling down at him with their untouchable beauty and a vulnerability outlining their jagged edges, softened by dawn light.

He willed away the wall of tears building behind his eyes, because he couldn’t—he just couldn't sink that low. Not in front of this person, who had been given every reason to chalk up this experience as one not worth repeating, yet continued to pay him kindnesses he greedily drank in.

Hua Cheng must have noticed, but he kept his observations to himself, and Xie Lian remained clueless to the restraint the man exhibited to keep himself from pulling him in close and holding him there until the earth was devoured in a molten ball of flame, nothing more than a blip in space and time where they once existed together side by side.

"Gege, I've been thinking about it some more. Why it might have happened.” They were so close that Xie Lian could feel the brush of Hua Cheng's leg against his upper thigh as he shifted to face him.

He was still holding onto his knee, hand warmed by the heat radiating from his body, and Xie Lian had to employ every known tactic of restraint not to fidget and prompt Hua Cheng to move away.

He knew it was the very last thing he should be thinking of, how pleasant it was picturing that he had imprinted that upon him in some manner of speaking. Xie Lian imagined Hua Cheng wrapped up in him, cool skin given a dash of life by his touch for the time they were tangled together in an embrace, giving and taking in equal measure.

He wondered if he would feel the blood rushing to the man's cheeks when he cupped them, thumbs stealing passes over sharp cheekbones, beneath a red lined eye or across lovely, pink lips.

Were they as soft as they looked? Maybe they were as cold as the rest of him, or perfectly warm, contrasting everything else—

“Have you eaten?”

Xie Lian blinked rapidly, and mentally slapped himself.

Forget almost crying in front of Hua Cheng, he'd thrown his dignity down the drain the moment he began daydreaming about him while he was right there, clearly meaning to hold his attention!

Undeterred, Hua Cheng pressed, “I'm in the café nearly every day, usually until close to closing. I've seen you take breaks, gege, but you don't eat much. Am I wrong?” Xie Lian could spot a dull kind of hope dancing away in the dark, enchanting depths of his eye—as though he prayed to be corrected, but was prepared for the worst outcome.

Xie Lian pressed the tip of his tongue against his teeth, knowing he was bound to disappoint him. He looked away, fingers fidgeting against the hem of his jacket. Newer than the one he usually wore.

He hadn't wanted to be a total mess going to meet Hua Cheng for the first time. Haha…that definitely hadn't gone as planned.

“I don't get hungry easily,” he replied in what he wanted to be a lighthearted tone, but it came out strained. He couldn’t help it.

If he saw disappointment in Hua Cheng's expression, felt it in the following disquiet, heard it in his voice, he…he really…

“Okay,” Hua Cheng answered softly, catching him off guard. Then, “When did you last eat? Do you remember?”

Xie Lian didn't want to lie to him, no matter how much it made his insides squirm to admit to his fault, “I haven't, in the last day, I think.”

Hua Cheng frowned slightly, but didn't show any other obvious signs of being upset by this confession. Xie Lian smiled, but he could feel how strange it was, how abnormal, like it didn't belong, “I'm used to not eating a lot, San Lang. It isn't like what you're thinking. I don't purposely…well, for any reason, it's not because I dislike the nature of it. I just—”

“You forget you need to.” Hua Cheng finished for him, and Xie Lian, while stunned by his ability to grasp the situation, grasp him, nodded in timid agreement.

“This probably comes as no surprise, as you've seen how I…look, but,” Xie Lian let out a trembling breath. “I've struggled with money for a while now. Sometimes, paying the rent when I need to, or having my car repaired, or fixing the busted radiator, feeding Ruoye…it takes precedence over things I know I can go a while without. Being hungry for a bit is better than having nowhere to sleep. And more often than not, I can't even tell when I am. So, it slips my mind.”

When he met Hua Cheng's eye again, he was held firmly in place by the intense sorrow he found brewing just beneath the surface, a whirlpool lurking below a calm current. He was almost shaking with it, lips faintly quivering.

His chin was tight, like he was struggling to keep his emotions in check and failing miserably.

He looked…like he was going to cry. “San Lang,” Xie Lian whispered, because he didn’t know what to do, and saying his name was a small comfort.

How did he fix this? How could he wipe that look off of his face?

There was no one else more deserving of happiness than Hua Cheng was, and Xie Lian continued to actively be the reason he was kept from that.

“Forgive me,” Hua Cheng said, even quieter. “I figured as much, that's why I…”

Oh, no. Of course Hua Cheng would feel it was his fault, he'd been giving Xie Lian money all this time. Discreetly, in the form of tips—ones that were triple the amount of any order he had. He thought he hadn't given enough.

“...I haven't spent it. The tips you gave me, I still have them.”

Xie Lian sounded utterly defeated, too exhausted to pretend otherwise. In the last half hour he'd gone up and down more hills than the past month, and that spoke volumes of how horrible his luck was.

He didn't have the energy to fear Hua Cheng's impending ire, no matter how he wished it would just be over and done with. He needed it to be, so he could forget and go home, and maybe cry into a pillow over the whole ordeal.

“I don't understand,” Hua Cheng's voice was laden with guilt still, now with an added edge of anxiety. Xie Lian couldn't bear it any longer, and with stiff, uncoordinated fingers, reached into a pocket of his coat and withdrew his wallet. He unzipped it, reaching into the back, extracting a thick wad of cash wrapped in a rubber band.

"I haven't spent it,” Xie Lian repeated, cold dread filling him as Hua Cheng's hand, which had been a solid presence until now, slowly moved away.

He wanted to beg, now, on his knees if he had to—he needed to, if he wanted him to stay. “I was going to give it all back,” he blurted, catching Hua Cheng off guard.

“I, I didn't know why you were doing it. When I thought more about the reason, I figured maybe…you felt bad for me. That's the last thing I want.”

‘Not from you. Please, not from you.’

‘Anyone but you. It's fine if everyone else sees me as a charity case. But please, don't treat me as broken. With you, I'm anything but.’

“Xie Lian,” Hua Cheng huffed out, and it sounded somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. Xie Lian just about swallowed his own tongue, hearing it in perfect definition for the first time. In spite of everything, all of the terror running rampant circles within him, he flushed.

Because if Hua Cheng was still saying his name, the notes of it rolling off his tongue like crushed silk, he thought he might see the light at the end of a long, dark tunnel. And he wasn't angry, not at all. Why? Why wasn't he?

Hadn't he done absolutely everything wrong here?

“It wasn't done out of pity, I hope gege knows that.” Hua Cheng smiled sweetly, sadly, and Xie Lian laughed dryly.

It was an awkward, strangled sound, but the man beside him didn't appear to mind. He just seemed relieved to hear it at all.

“Now I do.” he said, and Hua Cheng lightly shook his head, shoulders shaking with silent chuckles. The tense atmosphere was slowly but surely melting away, though he could tell that their conversation was far from over.

Xie Lian was no longer anticipating him to get up and walk off, at least.

After a while, Hua Cheng tilted his head, hair falling with the movement. It was wavy and a bit unkempt, but looked smooth as a sheet of satin. In the pitch black of his iris, Xie Lian could see the rainbow lights strung outside the establishment reflected in its welcoming darkness.

He was so beautiful. Did he have any idea at all? Would he be sitting here still, if he knew how Xie Lian painted him in his mind? If he knew what he thought of him, every waking moment they were apart? When they were together, now that he'd been given a taste of that luxury?

Even in the safety of his dreams, he was sure Hua Cheng had found his way into them, turning them into a haven he was all too reluctant to part from—because it meant he no longer had him there, all his, with his enrapturing smile, his wildness, the low purr of a tease he could imagine was said with the intent of reducing him to a melted puddle, his everything.

Everything that made him him, Xie Lian wanted it.

Hua Cheng's brows furrowed, and he explained softly, “I wanted to be of some use to gege. I wasn't sure how else to interact with him, or if I'd even be welcome. But, in retrospect, I should have predicted this outcome. After all, I know what sort of person he is.”

Xie Lian couldn’t stop himself from saying, “...You do?”

The man blinked once at him. His mouth quirked into a dangerous smile, and oh, how Xie Lian had missed seeing it. Even if it was at his imminent expense. “I did tell gege we've met before. Has he already forgotten?”

“No. No, San Lang. Don't tease me right now, I can't do this,” he all but whined, trying valiantly to ignore the way Hua Cheng's quiet laughter reached into his chest and set his heart alight. “San Lang gets what I mean. As he's neglected to inform me of our past meetings, I have no frame of reference for how well he should know me.”

Hua Cheng did have the presence of mind to look a little guilty at that. “I suppose gege is right. But, I don't need a history with him to be able to see these things. I've watched him plenty.”

“If it was anyone but San Lang, I'd be rather concerned by that,” Xie Lian said, feigning mock concern before quickly resetting his face with a warm smile.

Hua Cheng actually blushed, not nearly as obviously as he would have done, but enough that an excuse like ‘oh, it's just cold’ wouldn't have made a very convincing case. It delighted him, watching that dusting of pink blanket the pale canvas of his cheeks, then his nose, which up close, he noticed had a slight crook at the sloping bridge, as though it had been broken and didn't heal well. His earlobes were as red as the tips of his chilled fingertips.

When Hua Cheng didn't continue, maybe thinking he'd say the wrong thing, Xie Lian's grin widened. He'd never seen Hua Cheng so nervous, so shy, and he refused to waste the opportunity. He bumped their knees together, and the other startled, eyes snapping towards him.

“What sort of person am I, San Lang?” He prompted, gentle, and Hua Cheng seemed to finally relax all the way.

Like the very thought of him was the only reason he needed, his buoy in the middle of an unforgiving ocean.

“Kind.” Hua Cheng breathed.

Chapter Text

For a long couple of moments, Xie Lian could do nothing except stare at Hua Cheng in open disbelief. He felt his own eyes widen, and protected as they were beneath the awning draping over their heads, the bitter air still made them burn the longer he held them open, forgoing blinking altogether by sheer force of will.

Surely he had…misheard?

It wasn't exactly an unusual occurrence by now for Hua Cheng to say or do something that had him running circles in his own head, putting him at a complete loss for how to reply with a fully formulated sentence passing as ‘coherent’, but this was breaching catastrophic levels.

He vaguely heard himself attempting to splutter out a response, but his mouth had gone painfully dry, and his tongue kept catching the undersides of his teeth.

While he floundered, Hua Cheng drew back slightly to get a better look at him, and he felt trapped in the intensity of his stare like he was a rare specimen being examined beneath a microscope.

Xie Lian had to tell him that he was wrong, that of all things he had been and currently was, kind wouldn't be an accurate descriptor for him. But no words came to him, not when he needed them the most, and he silently cursed himself for being unable to shatter that image Hua Cheng mistakenly had of him.

In the end, it was caused by his own lack of control over his extremities—both in getting them into this mess, and feeding helplessly into the illusion he wished more than anything was true. If it meant Xie Lian could be the person Hua Cheng saw in him, if he could be someone worth admiring, maybe, one day, he could also be someone worth being loved by him.

And yet again, Hua Cheng was there to rescue him, like a sailor spotting a man thrown overboard, clinging desperately to a scrap of wood and fighting for the buoy that was tossed to him in the tumultuous waves.

“Gege doubts me,” he said softly, Xie Lian swallowing so hard he was sure he had to have choked on his own tongue, too, or perhaps a small rock.

“San Lang,” he whispered back, because it was the only thing sturdy enough to leave his lips without bringing ruin.

When had his lifesaver become this man's name, and not a sutra of badly threaded together comforts he had found solace in over the years?

Hua Cheng pushed himself to the edge of the bench, keeping his eye on him as he slowly stood, evidently deaf to Xie Lian's unspoken wishes for him to stay right there beside him. “This San Lang would love nothing more than to remind gege of his many incredible deeds for as long as it takes to convince him, but right now, I think something else needs to be taken care of.” He said with a slight tilt of his head towards the bustling building they sat in front of, briefly redirecting Xie Lian's attention.

In obvious betrayal, his stomach gave a telltale growl at the reminder of how hungry he was, how tempting food, any food was, and he met Hua Cheng's fond smile with a nervous grin of his own.

“I see gege has finally found his appetite.”

“San Lang…” he whined, and, afraid that Hua Cheng would think that was the only thing he knew how to say anymore, tentatively scooted forward with the intent of following the younger man into the café.

“I'll come with you-” he began, before he heard the shuffle of footsteps and felt a hand gently position itself at his shoulder, pushing him ever so slightly back.

Xie Lian stopped in his attempt to get up, and when his guidance met no resistance, Hua Cheng withdrew once more.

When he glanced up, he found Hua Cheng gazing at him in poorly concealed concern, the angular arch of his brows drawn tight over his forehead.

“Gege should rest for a while. I'll only be gone a couple minutes.” He assured, and try as he might to locate a loophole, Xie Lian found no wiggle room in Hua Cheng's reasonable defense.

“...Alright.” Xie Lian reluctantly agreed, knowing it was probably for the best anyways. His legs felt weak for a plethora of reasons, some having nothing to do with his hunger induced tumble, and he would rather avoid making a fool out of himself anymore than he had.

“I'll be right back.” Hua Cheng promised, and Xie Lian nodded.

With that, Hua Cheng bade him with a small wave of his hand and turned around with a swish of his coat in the direction of the double doors, painted festively with frosted snowflakes and chiming as the woven wreath was jostled by the movement of a person stepping through.

Xie Lian leaned against the back of the bench, sitting at somewhat of an awkward angle for the sake of tracking the other with his eyes, though quickly found himself disappointed when even the striking figure the man cut was swallowed by the crowd within.

This was probably the one time of the year that someone who wore that much red blended in normally with their surroundings.

Although he was suddenly very glad to not be squished among the noisy droves of customers, what with his wobbly legs and throbbing headache, he loathed to be apart from Hua Cheng for longer than a moment.

Ah, how pathetic he was turning out to be…

He couldn't remember the last time he had depended so heavily on another person for safety, for happiness, for recognition and respite—he knew it couldn't possibly be healthy to put so much of his burdensome feelings on Hua Cheng's shoulders. They were little more than strangers, regardless of what past acquaintance they might have had.

Stubbornly, Xie Lian continued to stare through the foggy window panes, his heart jostling in his chest when he at last spotted a glimpse of Hua Cheng moving through a line, slowly but surely.

He kept him in his sights, only moving his gaze elsewhere when the man seemed to become distracted by something other than the menu—his head had turned, tilting down slightly, and Xie Lian could see the side of his handsome profile as he began speaking to someone out of view.

From what he knew of Hua Cheng, which really wasn't all that much in the grand scheme of things, he hadn't made himself out to be a very sociable person.

Leaning forward on the bench, Xie Lian craned to get a better view of who he was talking to, only managing the feat when an elderly couple stepped out of the way to reveal a young woman standing next to Hua Cheng.

Her pale blond hair was pulled back out of her face in a low ponytail, blue eyes bright as she conversed enthusiastically with her should be bored looking counterpart. Xie Lian refocused his attention back on Hua Cheng, expecting him to appear woefully unamazed by the girl chatting him up, and instead wished he hadn't looked at him at all.

On the contrary, the beginnings of amusement were flickering across the man's sharp features as he listened intently, and Xie Lian felt his stomach churn with nausea having little to do with deprivation of food.

As he swallowed down the sour bile building in the back of his throat, acidic and hot, feeling it roil in his abdomen like a plague of feverish sickness, he attempted in vain to make out what the pair were talking about, only to fall short in that regard as well. Closer inspection told him that the shapes falling off Hua Cheng's lips were curiously foreign, harder to parse than they would have been in their native language, and Xie Lian puzzled the information as the duo made their way to the counter in unison.

He saw them exchange a few more words, Hua Cheng tilting his head as he gestured towards the menu, and she hesitated a moment before pointing to something with a thankful smile. Then, he slipped out a thin black leather wallet and passed over a card to Ling Wen, one of the current baristas on shift. She typed in their orders with a very bored looking expression, the dark circles under her eyes more pronounced than ever.

Unable to watch any longer, Xie Lian removed his arms from the backside of the bench and folded his hands in his lap, lips pursed. He had no right to be so…well, whatever this was.

Knowing perfectly well what it was, he refused to bring it into existence by thinking of the accompanying word for his misplaced agitation.

Even as he did so, he was more than aware of it; jealousy.

That treacherous, awful word. The bane of all good, innocent things, turning hearts rotten with greed and envy. Not only did he have no right to feel it, how would Hua Cheng react if he knew of this darkness within him, growing like an ember sparked into an inferno?

It must have the power to turn one temporarily deaf, too, because he never heard the doors opening behind him, only snapping his head up at the sound of Hua Cheng's deep timbre mingling with the higher pitched tones of his company from inside the café. Xie Lian's heart did another accurate impression of a stone sinking to the bottom of a lake as she took a short step forward, too close, too close, too close— and lightly patted his arm, dipping her head to him with a beaming smile.

They were so close to him that he could see the rather endearing gap between her two front teeth, the way her hair wasn't just pale blond, but a platinum, silvery color, the roots a slightly darker variation implying it had probably been tinted. Her eyes were down turned and sleepy looking, like she'd just rolled out of bed looking effortlessly perfect, with her rosy cheeks and sparkling smile—he had gotten pretty adept at recognizing a ‘no make-up make-up look' because of Shi Qingxuan's fascination with the stuff, and he didn't even see that.

She chirped out another couple words he didn't understand, Hua Cheng replying with an infuriating pleasantness, and, what had to be some kind of ploy to rile him up, the girl peeked behind him to where Xie Lian sat, still as a statue—and giggled, before turning to face Hua Cheng, cupping a hand around her mouth as she said something under her breath to him—as if he would be able to understand and listen in!

But, worst of all was not the easy companionship, the casual touches or shared secrets in a language he failed to comprehend, but the subtle reddening of Hua Cheng's ears as the woman raised her brows and grinned, saying something that alarmingly sounded like his own name. Hua Cheng had the nerve to crack a soft grin at her, placing his hands behind his back and tapping his foot along the ground, replying quieter than before—he had to strain just to hear him at all.

Xie Lian felt ill. What they could possibly be discussing that would ever include him in that downright flirtatious exchange, maybe he hoped to glean in the sparkle of Hua Cheng's eye as he said what he could only assume were his goodbyes to the woman.

She beamed as she reached out to take one of the man's hands in both of hers, squeezing and offering what suspiciously seemed like encouragement—that was the only way he could describe her pumped up grin, nodding eagerly to him and releasing his hand to slide a pair of gloves on.

As she rounded the corner, she smiled brightly over at Xie Lian, saying something he understood nothing of until he heard his heavily accented name in her throaty voice—now that time it couldn't have possibly been a mistake on his part. Stunned in place, Xie Lian forced the tension he could feel wrung through his body like a coil prepared to spring to a fixed point of relaxation, though he knew he came off stiffer than intended.

“Sorry, gege, that took longer than planned,” Hua Cheng said apologetically, and the earnest sincerity of his voice—in a tongue he knew like the back of his hand—instantly quelled some of his anxiety.

He smiled faintly, and prayed it wouldn't give away the raging turmoil making his head pound, “It's okay! I didn't mind, really.”

As Hua Cheng resumed his spot beside him, filling in the gap that had been empty much too long, Xie Lian felt as though a piece of himself had returned to its rightful place. And, as he properly looked him over, saw that he'd brought along delicious smelling offerings as well.

Hua Cheng cocked his head with a smile and delicately passed over a cardboard box with the café's logo printed along the side, as well as a foam cup that spewed steam when he gingerly flipped the cap back.

“They were all out of a lot of things, so I hope it will hold gege over for now.” He murmured, and Xie Lian shook his head vigorously as he pulled open the box to reveal a set of three perfectly steamed pork buns and a side of sauce to dip them in. The sight alone was enough to make him drool.

“No, no—it’s amazing. Thank you, San Lang.” His grateful expression must have reassured Hua Cheng, because he didn't push the matter further by insisting he bring out a full course meal to make up for this one's lack of grandeur, though he had a feeling he'd try that.

Knowing he would regret asking, but possibly regret not asking even more, Xie Lian dipped the corner of one of the meat buns into the accompanying sauce and raised it to his mouth.

Before taking a bite, he questioned slowly, trying to keep his tone casual, “Ah, San Lang…uhm, that…the person you were talking to, who was it?”

Xie Lian didn't miss the way Hua Cheng whipped over to face him as though struck by lightning, his stomach doing that uncomfortable somersault again as the younger man's eye flicked between the darkening streets and the space between their legs, then settled on meeting his.

“A good acquaintance of mine. Alina.” Hua Cheng started with, slowly leaning back against the bench. “Gege remembers that I'm an art student?” He asked softly, and Xie Lian nodded cautiously, the movement making a sharp pain go through his skull. He did his best to ignore it, presently too fixated on the dangerous direction he could feel their conversation going.

“Well,” Hua Cheng smiled faintly, resting his hands on his knees. “So is she. We met a couple years ago at an art exhibit out of the country—Russia, specifically. I was working on a project there, and needed material. And room and board, to make it work.”

The unease that had settled in his stomach like a thick mass made itself known once more, easily putting two and two together. He was almost too overcome to remember to say something in return, focusing instead on what really did take him by surprise, “San Lang…you went to Russia? Is that the language she spoke? That you were speaking?”

Hua Cheng chuckled, “Does that impress gege?”

Xie Lian squinted. He thought he heard a question in that statement, but seeing as it was definitely foreign to him, he gasped out, “San Lang, what did you say? That sounds so…interesting!”

Quirking a good-natured brow at him, Hua Cheng's smile broadened as he translated the phrase, “I asked if it impressed gege.”

He bobbed his head up and down in eager agreement, “Yes! It really does. How long did it take San Lang to learn?”

Humbly, Hua Cheng's grin faltered somewhat as he admitted, “I'm still learning. I can mostly understand it when it's being spoken or written, aside from more casual slang, and I can hold conversations alright. I was out of the country for a couple weeks, and I took lessons every day for about six months prior to the trip.”

Xie Lian stared at him in disbelief. “San Lang, you're really dedicated—that’s incredible.”

“Gege thinks so?” Hua Cheng mumbled, and Xie Lian could tell that he was fishing for more compliments. Ah, he was so…

“I do,” he indulged, finally taking a bite from the bun he'd held aloft for the past few minutes, now that he was fairly sure he wouldn't throw it right back up. It was deliciously soft, the warm, familiar flavors melting on his tongue and soothing his soul. Hua Cheng hummed happily beside him, and Xie Lian's mind traitorously circled to his original path of thought. “So when San Lang went to Russia…he stayed with her?”

Hua Cheng laughed quietly, “Not quite. When she asked why I was traveling, she managed to wheedle it out of me that I planned to stay at a hotel the entire time. It was close to the exhibit, and also a couple other popular tourist attractions, so it seemed like the best option at the time. She heard how much I was paying to stay there, and offered me a place at her then girlfriend's guesthouse—also close by, and much cozier—”

“Girlfriend?” Xie Lian blurted, considerably louder than he'd intended to. His cheeks burned with shame as Hua Cheng glanced over at him, blinking bemusedly.

“Wife, now,” Hua Cheng drawled, seeming to size him up as he added playfully, “Gege looks shocked. I didn't know he was so old-fashioned…”

“N-No!” Xie Lian panicked, not wanting him to think for a moment that his reaction had come from a place of judgement. Actually, the only person he would have minded her setting her sights upon was also incredibly, mind-blowingly without a partner, and not even his to be so…so jealous over. “I just didn't—I never would have—”

Relief and embarrassment warred within him as he trailed off helplessly, begging to the gods above that Hua Cheng would have mercy on him. It seemed that his luck had not yet run out, because the man laughed, not unkindly, “It’s okay, gege. But yes, her wife. They're just back from their honeymoon, and decided to visit a couple friends here. Alina isn't fluent, which is why you heard me speaking in Russian to her.” He explained.

There were innumerable instances where Xie Lian had repetitively questioned his decisions and the foolish outcomes of them, but this entire quarter of an hour had skyrocketed up to the top ten.

Resisting the urge telling him to bury his face in his hands and groan loud enough to startle the birds sitting perched on the wires crisscrossing the city square, Xie Lian exhaled shakily, clenching the fabric of his jeans for support. If he hadn't been so preoccupied with Alina's face, he indeed might have noticed the rather sizable opal wedding band around her ring finger.

He didn't think he would ever live this down if anyone knew.

At least now that that painful misunderstanding was out of the way and he could think straight for the first time in a while, he wondered more about the nature of their talk.

He was reasonably sure that his own name wouldn't become so lost in translation that he mistook it, yet something in the subconscious part of his mind encouraged him to keep his questions about the matter to himself. Hua Cheng had never purposely kept anything from him before, yet when he initially asked about Alina, he had appeared startled, almost fearful—like there was a real possibility that he might have made out their conversation.

Once he'd finished one of the pork buns and started on another, he recalled the cup of tea sitting on his opposite side and wrapped his hands around the base, relishing the heat it imbued into his fingertips. It had cooled off enough that it wouldn't burn his tongue when he sipped at it, but he nearly choked on it for a different reason altogether as the distinct flavor settled over his taste buds, “Ah! San…San Lang, this is…”

Hua Cheng had been watching him expectantly ever since he lifted the foam container, and now, seeing the recognition and surprise crossing Xie Lian's face, he beamed, waiting for him to confirm it himself.

“Tieguanyin,” Xie Lian laughed sweetly.

“Gege's favorite.” Hua Cheng acknowledged cheerfully.

A variety of the very popular oolong tea, tieguanyin was a rich tasting strain with a mildly sweet, refreshing and floral tone to it. Xie Lian enjoyed it immensely; he had been introduced to it by his mother, and it was one of the only things he could efficiently prepare in the kitchen without either missing the goal of the recipe entirely or blowing something up. He preferred tea to coffee in general, but not many people knew that. He especially wouldn't expect Hua Cheng to.

While memories were attached to this specific sort of tea, none of them were sad, if occasionally turned bittersweet when he paired them with the motions of preparing it at home—just as his mother had. He hadn't had it in a good while, definitely not since he had met Hua Cheng.

So how…?

Xie Lian found himself yet again pondering the mystery that was the man sitting beside him. “How did San Lang know it was my favorite?” He asked quietly, a curious edge to his tone that he couldn't smother.

“I didn't. Not exactly.” Hua Cheng began to say, and before Xie Lian could interrupt him, he smiled, “It was a very lucky guess.”

“Impossible.” Xie Lian smiled.

“It's not impossible,” Hua Cheng declared. “I'm in the café with gege a lot, remember? I've seen him go on breaks and not get much, but that doesn't mean I don't see what he looks at.” A hint of displeasure crept into his voice at that, a crease forming between his brow.

“Every time, I see him stare at that one spot on the menu, but if he does buy something, it's always something else. If someone disliked a specific thing, I don't imagine they would look after it with such longing, like they wanted it but didn't dare get it. I assumed there must be a reason why, and…I hope this San Lang hasn't overstepped in buying it for gege.” Hua Cheng's lips pursed. He painted the picture of a guilty dog, and Xie Lian feared that even if he had been put off by the gesture, he would have forgiven him immediately.

He knew he should have felt some form of discomfort in the manner in which Hua Cheng pried him open and read out his innermost thoughts and desires to him as though they were obvious, but he didn't think that they were.

Hua Cheng just paid close attention. Closer than anyone.

And he couldn't have been more right in his reading of the situation, either. Xie Lian peered into the gap in the lid showing him the contents of the cup, breathing in the faint scent of lilac wafting from the liquid.

“Not at all. Thank you, San Lang.”

This ‘thank you' carried significantly more weight than any standard one delivered in simple appreciation. Hua Cheng must have sensed it, too, because he lifted his eyes to look at him, saying nothing at first.

“Before it was my favorite…it was my mother's,” Xie Lian said, meeting his searching gaze with a small, melancholy smile. “She drank it every day, and sometimes experimented with it—on holidays, usually. If we ran out, you'd think she’d just received a phone call that she had a day to live.” He laughed then, bright as the warm taste of the tea lingering on his tongue, and Hua Cheng was quick to follow right behind him, the cheery sounds melting together.

“When I was ten, she taught me how she made it. It always had such a specific flavor. After she and father had passed, I…I think maybe I was afraid that drinking it from somewhere else would ruin it. I have the recipe she used. It's the only one I'm good at making.” Feeling rather silly, he added lightly, “That doesn't make sense, does it?”

Hua Cheng shook his head, his answer instantaneous and giving him no room for doubt, “It makes perfect sense, gege. I understand completely.”

Xie Lian tilted his head. “Really?”

“Really.” Hua Cheng smiled. “My mother…she also liked to cook. When she was around, we had home-made meals every night. They were rarely the same, and many of them came from her town's culture. I've tried replicating some of them, but I think…rather than the taste, what made them so memorable were the days attached to them. Those can't be fabricated, and similarly, gege was worried he'd no longer enjoy it if he drank it in the wrong circumstances.”

Feeling winded by that observation and the sentiment tied into it, Xie Lian stalled in place.

For a long, quiet moment, the pair locked eyes and didn't look away. He could see his own face reflected back in the captivating allure of the man's gaze, so dark he could scarcely tell where his iris ended and his pupil began.

Then Hua Cheng smiled softly, and Xie Lian really couldn't trust himself to keep his full focus on him without wanting to lean forward and close that agonizing distance separating them.

“So, it tastes good because of the company,” Xie Lian realized, hoping he sounded calmer than he felt. “In that case, that explains why tieguanyin has never been better.”

Heat rushed to his cheeks the very moment the words left his lips, but he couldn't find it in himself to regret them. It wasn't as though he'd lied.

He thought he heard Hua Cheng suck in a sharp breath, and then mutter something that was too quietly spoken for him to hear. Xie Lian leaned a little closer. “San Lang? What did you say?”

“Nothing important, gege,” Hua Cheng assured. “I only said that it's starting to get late.”

A reluctant look at the deep blue sky swathed with indigo told him that Hua Cheng was, regrettably, right as always.

He bit the inside of his cheek, finding that while he had an ever growing appetite, he didn't think he could stomach eating anymore.

Their conversation had flowed so easily that the time had utterly passed him by, and returning to reality felt like being dunked in ice cold water.

What he wasn't expecting was for Hua Cheng to feel similarly reluctant to part, the man venturing almost timidly, “If gege wants…he can come back to my place. I can make him a real meal.” Xie Lian sensed some bribery in that invitation that was too good to be true, as if Hua Cheng honestly thought he needed a reason to follow him home.

He could feel his heart speeding up with a combination of nerves and excitement, the temptation of Hua Cheng's offering hovering over his head like a dangled promise of everything he'd ever hoped for, almost in reach if he would just extend his hand a little farther.

The him of the recent past might have faltered at the prospect of visiting someone else's house. It wasn't that he was all that worried about being put in a concerning position, but because he put too much stock into acting as the perfect house guest and, frankly, it was almost exhausting as hosting.

Shi Qingxuan tended to be overdramatic, giving him pepper spray for his birthday and insisting he carry it around when he went out. He had asked her why she thought he would need it, and she replied very solemnly that his very person seemed to attract the worst of the worst.

Xie Lian lacked a sufficient argument for that. Whether it be walking slightly closer to a row of buildings than he usually would and having a flower pot dropped on him from above, getting sprayed by melted snow on the road by passing cars or forgetting his umbrella the one day a torrential downpour hadn't been predicted on the weather channel, his bad luck truly was never ending.

However, when it came to people, he tended to be the one driving them away.

It was a miracle in and of itself that Shi Qingxuan had stuck around as long as she had, and that Hua Cheng had given him the impression of enjoying his company enough to prolong it.

And who was he to turn that down?

Packing the other half of the still pleasantly warm steamed bun back into the box it had come in, Xie Lian tucked the corners in to close it and smiled over at Hua Cheng, whose brows were delicately creased as he sucked the inside of his cheek between his teeth, “I'd…I'd like that.”

The tension riddled throughout the younger man's body eased significantly, and he smiled almost shyly as he shifted on the bench, firmly placing his feet on the ground. He'd halfway drawn his legs onto the surface of the wood when he turned to face him, uncurling himself like a cat leaving their beloved resting place on a windowsill.

“Is there anything gege is in the mood to eat?” Hua Cheng asked, holding his hand out to him. Xie Lian's cheeks warmed as he slowly wound his own around Hua Cheng's, gripping a bit tighter as he got up unsteadily.

The fear of falling wasn't a present concern even in the deepest part of his subconscious as he let go of the other man, knowing that if he were to stumble, Hua Cheng walked just a step behind, prepared to catch him.

Xie Lian considered his question seriously, raking over numerous options, some grander than others, but mostly simple dishes stuck out to his plain, dull pallet.

He had gotten so used to cooking for himself that his taste buds were more or less dead as his putrified attempt at concocting chicken noodle soup a couple months prior. He also didn't want to put Hua Cheng in a position where he had to spend hours of their precious time together slaving away over a stove.

Yes. Something easy would surely do…

“...Congee?” He said after a moment of deliberation.

They had started at a slow and easy pace in the direction they'd come, Xie Lian's weary legs reassured by the knowledge that their trek to Hua Cheng's apartment wouldn't be one requiring a special sort of endurance.

Hua Cheng had suggested they hail a ride back, but Xie Lian had declined, insisting the exercise was good for him. He didn't get out much, after all, even if he was always on his feet and kept busy working at the café.

He used to go on runs purely for enjoyment, getting an early start on the day and often stretching his muscles before the sun had even risen, jogging to school instead of taking the bus. Of course, that had been when he was in his last couple years of middle school and lasted until he graduated and entered college, but he didn't have an excuse for why his lungs burned from unexpected cardio at this age other than being out of shape.

The notion was a bit disheartening. He was by no means in the awful condition he'd been in before his falling out with Mu Qing and Feng Xin, but a long, hard look in the mirror would reveal a noticeably underweight figure where he had once had toned muscle. He had shadows underneath his eyes, and the dip of his cheek was just a bit too deep. But, his hair was no longer tangled or flat, shining with the proper care he took of it, and had started to creep past his upper back after so much being cut off. His eyes sparkled, and the smiles making his whole face sore were sincere.

He was doing better—much better than he had in the past, and while it was a difficult thing to accept that although he wasn't the picture of health or righteous elegance as he had once been, the idea of reaching that pedestal was no longer a dream completely out of sight, unable to be attained.

It was manageable.

At his side, he could tell that Hua Cheng was practicing careful restraint to match his speed, his longer legs already providing a fair advantage dictating the need to shorten his steps.

He might not be as built as Xie Lian would be if he were still doing sword forms and martial arts everyday after classes came to a close, but he had a runner's build—he could see the shapely outline of his calves through the tight jean material clinging to them, and if the rush at which he made his way down the road and away from the café each time Xie Lian saw him leave suggested anything, it was that Hua Cheng liked moving from place to place quickly. As envious as he was of the man's energy, he also couldn't help but privately admire it. He wondered if Hua Cheng had ever done sports, and if so, what kind.

How did he have the time for anything?

“Congee it is, then.” Hua Cheng agreed warmly.

Xie Lian blinked through the impatient whirring of his thoughts, struck with the knowledge that so much had crossed his mind in-between his tentative suggestion and the near immediate response the man had given him.

“I may have to pick up a couple things at the market. Would gege like to tag along? It's only a block away from my place.” Hua Cheng assured, seeming to sense the tiredness gnawing at him.

Xie Lian nodded with a smile, and Hua Cheng returned it readily.

Their shoulders gently bumped together a couple times, Xie Lian suspecting that it was intentional—a gentle reminder that Hua Cheng was mere inches away, present at all times. He had to force down the giddy adoration bringing every butterfly hiding in the crevices of his ribcage to life, fluttering and beating their wings against his insides.

It was a fifteen minute journey between Qingxuan's coffee shop and Hua Cheng's surprisingly humble housing.

When they rounded the final corner and the man pointed in the direction of his complex, Xie Lian glanced around in confusion at first, trying to spot a tower made of all windows, sleek edges and artificial lighting, promoting the kind of riches he wouldn't even dare think of ordinarily.

Then, Hua Cheng gently steered him the right way, and Xie Lian's wide eyes landed on a rather inviting four story building composed of warm stone and dark wooden exterior. At first glance he could tell that it was an older arrangement, probably updated once or twice in the last twenty years for basic repairs and, in the case of Hua Cheng, interior remodeling.

But its face had been left beautifully untouched, adding undeniable appeal to the peacefully quiet street—most of it reflected the aesthetics of the first building, and Xie Lian couldn't have been more charmed.

“San Lang,” Xie Lian said in awe, as they passed by it and continued down the sidewalk towards the grocery store already coming into view. “You really live there? It's so…”

“Unexpected?” Hua Cheng prompted, and Xie Lian could hear the laughter in his voice as he scoffed in amusement.

“Maybe a little bit,” Xie Lian admitted, peering at him silently. “But...it makes sense, too.”

He watched as Hua Cheng's grin softened into something maddeningly sweet, swatting away the curiosity telling him to find out if it tasted so. “I'm glad gege thinks so. I've had many strong influences in my style over the years, especially with home design, but more important than my own preferences were the ones of the person I hoped to have there with me.”

Xie Lian blinked at him in surprise. Initially, he wondered if perhaps Hua Cheng was referring to He Xuan, but he dismissed that possibility altogether as he studied the soft, distant look on Hua Cheng's face, his eye faraway and focused on something he could not see. Despite him and He Xuan being roommates and rather reluctant friends for the past few years, Xie Lian knew that their relationship was rocky at best.

They acted like estranged brothers, constantly going for the throat but never intending to kill—He Xuan had made this analogy once, and when Xie Lian commented that it sounded as though they cared for each other after all, the man had insisted that Hua Cheng kept him alive for the sole purpose of continuing to torment him. A living, breathing person was easier to collect debt from, after all. Despite the strange nature of their understanding that they could mutually benefit from the other not being dead, Xie Lian really did feel that there was some sort of affection there.

This affection would not warrant the expression of longing dancing across Hua Cheng's sharp features like a cloud tugged along by a strong wind, present one moment and drifting away the next, like he were covering it and spreading it out across the sky, allowing it to hide and smear among the blue.

Xie Lian was left with a rather unsettling thought; who else?

It had been established like an anchor in the sand, firm and unyielding, that Hua Cheng was not a man with a very wide social circle. By his own volition, as there was certainly no shortage of people trying to get in his good graces, seeking something he had no intention of giving.

The only person more reluctant to be around others was He Xuan, and he told him at some point that one of the few pros of rooming with Hua Cheng was that he, contrary to his flirtatious nature and bold appearance, did not invite temporary company back to their apartment—ever.

If he wasn't holed up quietly in his art studio, reading, or applying himself to some other personal hobby, he wasn't home at all.

Now, maybe he was just good at keeping his love life far away from He Xuan's eyes and ears, but from an outsider's perspective he seemed to dictate himself to his work even in the hours he spent tucked into his signature booth at the café. He kept himself busy.

So who could he possibly…

Well.

Xie Lian had spent too much of his life pondering questions he could have just asked in the moment, regretting the loss of his chance, and decided that anything Hua Cheng saw as worthwhile, he wanted to hear about. “Is that person…special to San Lang?” He started with, relieved that he didn't sound nearly as on edge as he felt.

They must be special, if Hua Cheng had transformed so much of his home and lifestyle to fit the needs of that person, when it appeared that they didn't even live there with him.

Hua Cheng nodded once, unhesitatingly going on to say, calm and composed as the mountains were tall and proud, “They are my beloved, the most important person to me. Who I am today is because of them. I owe everything to them.”

He wasn't sure what exactly he expected to hear, or what he secretly wanted Hua Cheng to say, but it wasn't that.

If Xie Lian's heart had felt like it dropped to the pit of his stomach earlier, now it was falling down a deep, dark abyss with no end, and it didn't stop for anything.

Beloved. Hua Cheng's beloved.

Xie Lian's breath came out short, punched from his chest by the sheer force at which confusion, frustration and despair hit him all at once like a relentless tide, battering him and bruising him inside.

His heart throbbed in his chest, a sore muscle weak from strain, and suddenly just keeping himself walking straight proved to be a challenge.

Directly conflicting his darkening vision and the toxic taste in his mouth poisoning the lingering aftertaste of flowery tieguanyin was the bitter acceptance that was frayed at the edges and stung like a scraped knee—

Because of course. Of course Hua Cheng had someone dear to him, there was no way he wouldn't. Of course, his past sins would ensure the weight of loss was so heavy he didn't think he could bear it alone, his exceptionally awful luck returning to play another match. Of course…he would start to fall in love with a man so far out of his league they weren't even playing the same game, and realize it was hopeless to fall out of it.

Selfishly, he didn't want to. Selfishly, he thought that this beloved of Hua Cheng's wasn't worthy of him—how could they be, if they didn't know what they were forfeiting in not being by Hua Cheng's side, instead leaving him to wile away his days in a cramped coffee shop with him?

Xie Lian had never once been angry at Hua Cheng, didn't think he had the capacity to be, but now he burned with it in the mildest of forms, because even after such an eye opening wake-up call, he refused to place blame on him.

He had to be a little upset—Hua Cheng should have known on some level how easily his past actions could have been misconstrued.

Folding paper over and over, criss-crossing petals and tying stems, hiding strings of clues for him to follow. Maybe delivering him his number had been the intent at the beginning, but he had continued to leave them for him to find long after that. All along, had it just been a gesture of kindness?

Swallowing down the hurt, Xie Lian winced as his eyes grew blurry with the presence of tears, hot and salty. He blinked them away before they fell, resolutely keeping his attention on the path ahead of them.

“Gege?” Hua Cheng questioned softly, when they at last reached the doors of the convenience store. “Is everything alright?”

It had been a minute since he'd said anything in response, and Xie Lian forced a smile as he briefly met his gaze, “Ah. Sorry, I…guess I got lost in thought.” He excused, slipping inside when Hua Cheng reached out to pull the door open for him. He thanked him once they were in, and the younger man hummed softly in acknowledgement.

He had honestly no clue what they were going in for, or what the general layout of the store was, but he still made a beeline for the nearest aisle just to keep his feet moving and not awkwardly shuffling in place.

Hua Cheng followed him around without a single complaint, and as they slowly browsed, Xie Lian felt his prior anxiety ebb somewhat at the lack of a rush they were in. It was rare that he was allowed the time to stop and look at everything, and having the infinite source of new things to take in gave him something else to think about for a while.

Whenever he went shopping with Shi Qingxuan, the woman was eager to visit every single store in a mile radius in record breaking time, never pausing for a second and somehow loading up their arms with bags anyways.

On the days he took her thrifting, he insisted on moving at a turtle's pace to ensure he didn't miss anything, and he could tell that Shi Qingxuan was fidgety and eager to get a move on within ten minutes of being in one shop. Eventually he gave into her excitable energy and suggested they try somewhere else, her cheerful ranting and raving about the potential of their next stop taking away any regrets he felt about abandoning the first.

Hua Cheng was a fast moving person, too, so he had anticipated him to have gone off on his own at some point to fill the basket he'd grabbed when they entered the store and be at the checkout in a quarter of an hour.

It took him by surprise to discover that Hua Cheng was not only willing to trail behind him and let him choose their path, but the time it took to walk it. A cautious look over his shoulder told him that Hua Cheng was also checking out things as they passed row upon row of shelves, and he smiled softly to himself.

“Ah…San Lang, are we looking for anything specific?” Xie Lian asked, once they'd been wandering for close to ten minutes and Hua Cheng had yet to put a single item in his basket.

To his embarrassment, Hua Cheng tilted his head and grinned, “I thought maybe gege knew, since he's taking the lead with such confidence.”

Bafflingly, the phrasing of that sentence sounded as if he were implying two things, and Xie Lian flushed from head to toe. “U-Uhm—”

Clearing his throat with a cough, he shook his head, “It's been a bit since I've been in a new store, so I got distracted. I'm sorry, San Lang…what aisle should we go to?”

Hua Cheng chuckled softly. “Don't apologize, I'm having fun walking around with gege. And actually, we're in the correct place—I need some ingredients.” He said and, as if to demonstrate, grabbed a small bag of flour, baking soda, and cornstarch off different shelves.

What he would need those for with a dish requiring nothing but water and rice, Xie Lian wasn't sure, but maybe he planned to integrate some kind of toppings to the otherwise simple meal.

“What else does San Lang need?” Xie Lian asked, looking around.

“Salt, granulated sugar, peanut oil, and baking powder.” Hua Cheng listed, Xie Lian getting right down to searching the area for them.

He found three of the four additional necessities, Hua Cheng plopping a container of sugar into the basket as Xie Lian brought over his own finds.

“Perfect, gege. Thank you.” Hua Cheng smiled down at him, and Xie Lian's heart jumped in his chest in spite of his earnest desire to keep it still.

Hua Cheng considered the contents of what they'd gathered, lifting his eyes back to Xie Lian a moment later to point out, “Gege, I think just congee won't be very filling. Should we pair it with another dish?”

There was no way for Hua Cheng to know what kind of door he had just opened, yet he thought he saw a glimmer of excitement in the man's eye that mirrored his own as he eagerly scrambled to pull his phone from his back pants pocket, saying a bit too fast, “Actually, yes, there's a recipe I read about online that I've been really wanting to try out! I hadn't gotten around to doing it yet, but it's pretty flavorful and should go well with something like congee—”

Hua Cheng stepped a little closer to him, studying the list of ingredients, as well as the name of the dish, all typed out in a note on Xie Lian's phone. In the moment Xie Lian was too caught up to pay attention to how close they stood, but as the other pulled away with a nod and a half-smile, he found himself staring deeply at the dimple that dipped at the corner of Hua Cheng's mouth.

“It's very doable, gege.”

Feeling strangely playful, Xie Lian folded his arms and suggested with a grin, “What does San Lang say to making this a scavenger hunt? We split up, and whoever finishes first wins. San Lang can handle finding everything for the wontons, and I can do sauce and chili oil.”

Hua Cheng's eyes flashed. “A challenge? From gege? This San Lang will really have to prove himself…only…”

His voice lowered to a low whine as he gestured to his covered eye, “What about this San Lang's handicap? Surely gege will have the upper hand, being able to see more. He also has the list of ingredients.”

Holding back a snort, Xie Lian shook his head in fond exasperation and held his phone out, waiting until Hua Cheng accepted it to lower his arm.

He also decided not to remind the man of his at times frighteningly sharp memory—he had probably memorized the list just by looking at it for a few long seconds. “San Lang can have the reference, I remember it well. And as for his ‘handicap’, it's easily allotted for. I'll just cover one of mine.” His simple solution was to unwind his scarf from his neck and drape it halfway across his face, obscuring his vision on the right side.

He could still see a little bit through the gaps in the woven fabric, but he wasn't planning on trying to cheat. Hearing what sounded suspiciously like a giggle, Xie Lian's attention moved away from adjusting the scarf to look at Hua Cheng, whose lips were tightly pressed together, brows drawn tight as he held in a laugh, trembling with it.

“What a fashion statement…” Hua Cheng said in a voice slightly above a whisper. He moved in behind Xie Lian to tie the scarf so it would stay secure, and Xie Lian held himself still, heart pounding.

“Well,” Xie Lian squeaked, willing some strength into his body after that horrendous attempt at speaking, “Let's go!”

Grinning, Hua Cheng turned on Xie Lian's phone, its bright screen showcasing the step by step cooking instructions and the needed ingredients for concocting it. Hua Cheng disappeared from view as he slipped into another aisle, Xie Lian staying in the current one as he recalled a few needed items.

He reeled them off in his head as he rapidly scanned the shelves, ‘Light soy sauce, Chinkiang vinegar, vegetable oil…’

The rest he found either among the spices or fresh produce, and soon the basket he'd instinctively grabbed earlier found its use as he piled numerous packages and small jars on top of one another.

He was so involved in the search that having half of his sight gone did not prove as big of an issue as he thought it would, but he did almost collide head-on with Hua Cheng when he moved towards the back refrigerators, head turned in a way that prevented him being able to see the other coming.

Hua Cheng flung out a hand to smoothly catch him by the shoulder, their baskets lightly bumping together. “Gege, what a haul.” He said, and Xie Lian laughed as he took a look at what the man had gathered.

“I've found everything I need. What about San Lang?” He questioned, daring to wiggle his brows a couple times, and Hua Cheng sighed unhappily, though Xie Lian caught a hint of a smile on his lips,

“Ah, in that case, gege has won. I'm still missing shrimp and Shaoxing wine.”

Xie Lian had a suspicion that he had been going slower than necessary in order to let him win. After all, the wontons required less, even if their ingredients were more spread out across the store. Regardless, he lowered his scarf with a smile and wound it around his neck, coming to walk next to Hua Cheng as they set off for the final two puzzle pieces.

A part of him wished that they had been together searching the many aisles for the entire time, but it still took them so long to find Shaoxing wine that it made up for the last half an hour they'd spent apart—maybe Hua Cheng hadn't been underestimating.

He wondered vaguely as they worked to set everything up at the checkout register if this was what it would be like to live with Hua Cheng, going out as a duo for groceries and making light of an otherwise monotonous activity. Xie Lian found himself enjoying it in ways he never had before, even just going back and forth with the man on who should pay.

Hua Cheng finally relented when Xie Lian suggested splitting the cost, and the man's conflicted frown relaxed as he pulled free a couple bills from the back tab of his wallet—the tips he'd promised himself to appreciate.

Bags swinging from their arms, they chatted the entire way back to Hua Cheng's apartment and only paused for breath so Hua Cheng could rummage around his jacket for his keys.

He pushed the door open and motioned for Xie Lian to go in first, gathering their things and bringing them in behind him. Undoing the buttons of his coat, Hua Cheng shrugged his arms out of the sleeves and hung it on a hook. Right beneath was a small, padded seat that also appeared to function as a dedicated place for shoes, hollow on the inside.

After Hua Cheng undid the laces of his boots and pulled them off, setting them in the little alcove, Xie Lian did the same, shedding his outer layers and hanging them in the appropriate places.

Flicking a light on, Hua Cheng closed the door again with a quiet ‘snap’ and leisurely made his way to the kitchen island, where he deposited their load.

The main space was now basking in an inviting golden light, dimmed to perfection. Handsome leather furniture accompanied cream colored walls, accentuated by dark wooden beams overhead.

Xie Lian was impressed to find that the ceiling was vaulted, following the shape of the roof, giving the cozy space an open airiness. The aged floors reminded him of the loft of his favorite old bookstore, characterized by their splits, cracks and dips, refreshed every so many years to preserve them beautifully.

Connecting the whimsy to the here and now were the modern touches of decoration in varying pops of color; patterned vases with fresh flowers, paintings both famous and not so hung about the walls, bold rugs and a long, wide fish tank held on a sturdy table to the far side of the room—He Xuan's personal touch, he guessed. Most of the appliances in the kitchen appeared to have been updated as well, and the entire room was eclectic and dark in its intrigue, but not so deeply cast in shadow as to be called gloomy.

It was mostly tidy, proving it was lived in by the scuff marks on the sides of the dinner table for two, positioned in a nook beside the kitchen, and the loose papers and personal belongings here and there.

It was beautiful.

“What does gege think?” Hua Cheng asked from nearby, and Xie Lian thought he heard a note of anxiety in his tone.

Once he had swept the space once more with his eyes, he met Hua Cheng's across the room and smiled brightly, “It's…so lovely. San Lang, did you do everything here yourself?”

Hua Cheng's posture lost some of its rigidity as he started to remove the results of their productive shopping spree out of the bags, Xie Lian hurrying over to assist. “Most of it, yes. I actually own the building—I bought the rights to it for cheap when it was falling apart, and had most of the structure reinforced. I tried to keep as much of it original as possible, and rented out the bottom two floors. As for up here, it wasn't an immediate change. I've added over time.” He explained slowly, Xie Lian gaping at him in undisguised awe.

“The third floor is a library. It's only accessible via the stairwell from here to there—the rest is blocked off.” Hua Cheng added with a smile.

Count on Hua Cheng to have so many books that he had the need to dedicate an entire floor to them, but Xie Lian was thrumming with hopeful energy at the prospect of such a place.

As if he'd read his mind, Hua Cheng's grin widened, “Gege is welcome to anything here or in the library. It is home to more than just interesting titles I've collected over the years. I think gege would find some of it fascinating.”

Fondness encapsulated him as he watched Hua Cheng turn to pull several pots and pans from the upper and lower shelves. How he could so blindly offer such wonderful things without a second thought…

“San Lang is very skilled at tempting me.” He smiled, pulling up the instructions for the wonton dish as Hua Cheng turned the stove on and placed a medium sized saucepan on one of the burners.

He heard the man laugh softly under his breath, setting a wooden cutting board on the counter closest to him. Xie Lian felt antsy just observing him, wanting to jump in and be a part of making the dish, but he was tentative to do so for a couple reasons, the most obvious being that it was almost inevitable that he would make it poisonous to eat.

“Would gege mind helping this San Lang? I need the cilantro to be chopped.” Hua Cheng asked lightly, peering back over his shoulder at him, and Xie Lian startled out of his thoughts. A flush of excitement warmed his cheeks despite the very present fear in the back of his mind telling him to touch nothing.

“Yes! Yes, I'll, ah…” Xie Lian hurried over to his side, cilantro in tow, and Hua Cheng gave him room to work as he withdrew a knife to begin cutting the greens into pieces. His hands shook slightly, incisions painfully uneven, but in the end, the cilantro had been chopped.

He used the flat side of the blade to push them into a small container as he moved onto the scallions, attempting to slice them. They weren't as thin as he would like them to be, but surely it wouldn't matter if they were a tad thicker than the recipe called for.

Xie Lian watched as Hua Cheng secured a small package of dried mushrooms and a measuring glass, filling it to the ‘3 Cups' mark. Then, he dumped both into the waiting pan, allowing the heat to take its course and bring things to a boil.

“San Lang…” Xie Lian began, unsure if he would be interrupting the flow of the man's work. He had already placed the pork shoulder on the cutting board, mincing it into fine slivers and grinding them apart—after just a couple minutes of this, he was transferring it to a mesh colander he'd positioned over a bowl filled with cool water and mixing it slowly.

“Gege?” Hua Cheng hummed softly in reply, lifting his eyes from the bowl.

Based on the recipe, he had a few minutes to wait before squeezing the water out of the pork and moving it to a clean bowl.

Leaning against the island, Xie Lian murmured, “Is San Lang sure he wants me to be involved? I…” he swallowed, forcing himself to continue ashamedly, “I-I really like cooking, but I don't think it's any good. The last time I made a meal for Qingxuan, she…”

Hua Cheng's brows lifted slightly, his eye full of gentle encouragement, and Xie Lian said in a rush, “It, it made her so sick that she had to go to the emergency room! I just…I don't want San Lang to feel ill after eating something I've made. I would never forgive myself.”

There was a beat of what he perceived as shocked silence following his confession, but it must have been something different altogether—the way in which Hua Cheng reached out to softly squeeze the top of his hand, which was white from gripping the countertop, was nothing but reassuring.

He could almost feel the calming energy seeping into his heart through that singular point of contact, as Hua Cheng reasoned, “That isn't gege's fault. She must just have a weak stomach. Anything gege makes is sure to be wonderful, and I can't wait to try his cooking.”

Xie Lian really didn't know where Hua Cheng's baseless confidence in him came from, but he sounded so serious about it, almost offended on his behalf that his past attempts at feeding friends had gone disastrously wrong, that he found himself smiling.

“Besides, aren't we cooking this together? If for some reason it doesn't turn out well, the responsibility won't just be on gege.” Hua Cheng reminded him. Xie Lian inhaled deeply, nodding firmly.

He was right. Two people was better than one for an ingredient rich dish that relied on so many base components. As long as they followed the instructions and continued to work around each other with the habitual ease he found the longer they spent in that kitchen, what could go wrong?

The air soon turned rife with the aromatic scents of wafting spices as Hua Cheng finished off the pork with some white pepper and sesame oil, mixing it in with the smashed shrimp Xie Lian had topped with a little bit more salt than he'd intended to (the bottle had slipped and dumped thankfully no more than an additional teaspoon's worth into the bowl) after letting everything sit in the refrigerator for a half hour. Then, they both sat at the barstools in front of the island, which Hua Cheng explained made up for the lack of chairs at the dining table, and began methodically filling and sealing the wonton wrappers with the pork mixture. It was an oddly soothing activity, using his finger to run water along the sides of the wrapper and joining each corner, scrunching and folding, folding and scrunching, until a considerable amount of them had piled up and were ready to be chilled before cooking. All without explosions!

In the meantime, he and Hua Cheng threw together what the recipe listed as their desired chili oil. It was one of the most delicious smelling concoctions he had ever been a part of making, and only climbed higher on the list when it was properly heating. “Gege, do you want to get started on the congee while I stir these?” Hua Cheng had barely gotten the words out before Xie Lian was hauling the rice over to the sink and pouring it out into a suitable bowl to be washed in, vigorously scrubbing the grains as his counterpart added several of the wontons into boiling water. Loose bangs framed Hua Cheng's face as he leaned over the stove, frizzy from the heat, and Xie Lian grinned at the familiar sight.

It made him wonder what Hua Cheng's hair must look like in the summer...

The twice rinsed bowl of rice was added to another pot on the stove, mixed together with water and moved around with a wooden spoon. He generally preferred his mildly thick, but accounted for Hua Cheng's tastes as well—unhelpfully, he promised that he would take it however Xie Lian did. The wontons were being delicately settled on a platter as he reduced the heat beneath the cooking pot of congee, resting a lid over the top to stir it every now and again, a process that would last another incense time at least.

He finally found out what Hua Cheng's first round of ingredients were for, as he whisked together several in a large bowl. Youtiao! He hadn't had any in years, but he still recalled the pleasant sweetness as it reached his nostrils and spoke very enthusiastically to his stomach.

Xie Lian helped him to knead it into a dough, puttering over to where he had left the congee to simmer every couple minutes to check its progress.

“This dough will need to rest, and then be left alone for a few hours after being stretched and folded.” Hua Cheng said, and Xie Lian tilted his head in silent question. “It won't be ready tonight, but we can use it on the leftover congee.” He explained with a small smile, covering the bowl with a strip of Saran wrap.

Youtiao or not as a topping, their feast for two seemed to be coming along perfectly, and soon he was ladling out helpings of silky white congee into two bowls (that was amazingly only slightly burnt and chunky in some places), which were joined by the wontons in chili oil in another.

Xie Lian reheated the rest of his tea from the café, Hua Cheng grabbing a glass of water and filling it with ice for himself.

Everything was placed on top of a protective mat laid across the dinner table, the sound of chair legs scooting gently against wooden floors resounding in the peaceful quiet as they sat in front of each other. Xie Lian slowly twined his fingers around a pair of chopsticks, reaching forward to pinch a wonton between them at the same time as Hua Cheng—the result was something like tripping over someone, limbs tangled incomprehensibly together.

They both broke into laughter trying to figure out how to undo the clumsy error, realizing they had also gone after the same wonton, and eventually Hua Cheng submitted to the wrath of Xie Lian's chopsticks, setting his own down so he could claim a very peculiar victory. He tried to stifle his giggling so there wouldn't be as much of a chance of him choking when he took a bite, waiting for Hua Cheng to secure another wonton before he lifted his own, raising his hand into a cupped position under his chin to catch any dripping sauce.

Xie Lian wasn't sure if it was the spicy base or the fact that they were still freshly steaming, but the rush of flavor that burst across his tongue and singed the sensitive skin had him holding in a cough. He managed to chew it delicately, swallowing down a delicious mouthful, and found Hua Cheng smiling at him from across the table with a glimmer of amusement sparkling in his dark eye.

“How does it taste, gege? Edible?”

Now that he knew to blow on them before trying to put them anywhere near his mouth, Xie Lian nodded fervently, “Very edible.”

Hua Cheng's grin curled up at the corners as he moved to fold another wonton between his chopsticks. Xie Lian watched with bated breath as he raised it, swiftly parting his lips and closing it around the soft dough with such practiced ease that not a single drop of the red base was wasted or made a mess of, chewing slowly to parse the distinct flavors.

“Mn. Salty.” He commented offhandedly, and Xie Lian was jolted out of his shameful gawking by a wave of anxiety—oh, no. His tiny mistake earlier was coming back to bite him where it hurt, after all.

Noticing the shift in Xie Lian's expression, Hua Cheng paused in his reaching for another of the wontons, drawing his chopsticks back. “Gege? Did I say something wrong?”

Immediately, Xie Lian shut down that worry of Hua Cheng's, admitting awkwardly, “No, of course not. It's just, the saltiness…that's probably my fault. When I was measuring it out earlier, more poured out of the container than I had meant to, and…” he trailed off, guessing that by now Hua Cheng had ascertained enough information to understand.

Keeping up with his personal vendetta to catch him off guard in any way he could, Hua Cheng resumed what he was doing and in seconds had popped another of the wontons onto his tongue, saying pleasantly after he had swallowed it down, “I like it. It makes the flavor more powerful. I think it would be too much for most people, though.”

Truthfully, he would be amazed just to see Hua Cheng make it through the meal without collapsing or falling into hysterics and delusions, but the idea of him actually enjoying something he had played a hand in preparing stunned him.

“Really?” Xie Lian spoke tentatively. “It's not too strong for San Lang, then?”

Hua Cheng smiled softly. “Not at all. It's exactly as it should be.”

Xie Lian never thought he would almost be moved to tears over someone liking his food, but he was teetering dangerously close to that edge as Hua Cheng balanced out the spice of the wontons with some of the congee, not appearing put off in the slightest by the strange consistency.

“I've never had congee with this sort of texture,” Hua Cheng said thoughtfully, his line of feedback cutting short so he could chew quietly. He heard him make a satisfied hum deep in the back of his throat, and then he dipped his spoon back into his dish for a second taste.

Too curious to settle for just observing, Xie Lian cautiously brought a spoonful to his lips, tipping it slightly as he opened his mouth. The texture was indeed…ah, off, strangely watery in some places and so thick in others that he needed to chew the sticky clumps of grain before he could swallow them down, but the taste itself was reassuringly normal aside from the burned bits that had crept at the bottom of the pot and made it into the main course.

Throughout the duration of their meal Hua Cheng provided a steady course of his thoughts at Xie Lian's urging, offering helpful tips and insight on what had been done well, and what might need some tweaking in the future.

His words were never cruel, only concise and honest, exactly the sort of guidance in his hobby that he had sought all along.

(It also helped that Hua Cheng could clean out his bowl rather than fall into it and need to be rushed to the hospital.)

He insisted on helping with the dishes, as he'd made half of the mess, and they made quick work of the small tornado that appeared to have hit the kitchen.

Running a towel along the underside of a glass bowl, Xie Lian lifted his head at the sound of Hua Cheng's voice beside him suggesting gently, “Why doesn't gege go and get comfortable? There's not much left here to do.”

Xie Lian was going to dismiss him, but was given pause when he remembered how little he'd been keeping in touch with Shi Qingxuan. A nervous glance at the time displayed on the stove told him it was also getting late, and he slowly set the bowl in his hands down on a dry towel.

“The last train will be leaving soon.” He began, and saw a minute shift in Hua Cheng's smile that made his heart ache in his chest.

Hua Cheng placed the final pieces of clean silverware in a holder by the sink to drain any water left over, turning to organize the various dishes so they wouldn't fall at some point in the night. “I'd be happy to drive gege home, unless he would like to indulge this San Lang some more and stay over.”

Hua Cheng sounded sure of himself at first, which only made sense, as he really would prefer to be the one taking Xie Lian back via a comfortable means of transportation that didn't smell like someone else's lost hopes and dreams, but he wavered towards the end, just as Xie Lian tended to when it came to possibly scaring Hua Cheng off. Things would be infinitely easier if one or both of them set aside what was considered the ‘norm’ for two people who had only ever interacted over a phone and once in person, and do what seemed to be their normal. “I think San Lang would be indulging me, actually.”

Xie Lian smiled after a moment's pause, the second he had taken to try and fail to get his heartbeat to an acceptable rate and utterly given up.

It hardly helped that Hua Cheng's beaming smile was enough to send him spiraling into cardiac arrest, the sparkle in his eye like a lone star in the night.

“Does gege need different clothes to sleep in?” He asked, giving Xie Lian's current attire a once-over, and he nodded slowly.

“Ah, yes—thank you!”

“Of course, gege.”

It only dawned him once Hua Cheng had disappeared from view down the hall, presumably to fetch things from his room, that he would be wearing Hua Cheng's clothes—

He took a seat on the sofa positioned in front of the television set, not because he was searching to find comfort as Hua Cheng had prompted him to, but due to the sudden lack of strength in his legs.

Exhaling a heavy breath, Xie Lian valiantly ignored the warmth that had risen to his face as he removed his phone and swiped up on the screen, cautiously examining the notifications.

(You have 12 unread messages and 3 missed calls.)

Oh, dear.

Pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, Xie Lian tapped on the handy little messaging app to check the damage. The only person who had reached out in the last several hours was Shi Qingxuan, and there was an update right underneath from Hua Cheng, letting him know he would be there shortly, and that he might be a bit later than planned.

6:12 pm.
Qingxuan: Liannn, I hope your date's going well!

6:41 pm.
Qingxuan: When do you plan on coming back? I have some of your stuff here that you might want!

7:19pm.
Qingxuan: Lian?

7:37 pm.
Qingxuan: Is everything ok??

8:25 pm.
Qingxuan: OKAY I'M GETTING SCARED

8:26 pm.
Qingxuan: I hope you know that I was just joking about him trying something and that I wasn't actually trying to manifest it???

9:03 pm.
Qingxuan: XIE LIAN

9:03 pm.
Qingxuan: I DON'T ACTUALLY KNOW HOW TO DO MARTIAL ARTS ANYMORE SO PLEASE TELL ME I DON'T HAVE TO TRY AHAHAHAHAHAHA

9:15 pm.
Qingxuan: Answer the phone if you're there!!

9:17 pm.
Qingxuan: ACTUALLY SHIT WAIT DON'T WHAT IF HE HEARS IT??? OH MY GOD PLEASE DON'T DIE AHAHAHAHAH

9:17 pm.
Qingxuan: I hope your phone's on vibrate…if you're locked up somewhere I swear to gods

9:38 pm.
Qingxuan: Oh my god do I need to call the cops

Xie Lian stared in open mouthed shock at the barrage of texts, guilt tugging him two different ways—partly because he really did feel awful for not keeping Shi Qingxuan in the loop, but also for how hilarious he found her ramblings. He glanced at the time of the latest message, and realized it was only from a few minutes ago—what if she really did call someone?!

Hurriedly, he typed back a reply, and no sooner had he done so did he see the accompanying dots of her responding at lightning speed.

9:42 pm.
Me: Qingxuan! I'm so sorry. I'm fine, you don't have to call anyone!

Qingxuan is typing…

9:42 pm.
Qingxuan: XIE LIAN OH MY FUCKING GOD

9:43 pm.
Qingxuan: I WAS SO WORRIED

9:43 pm.
Qingxuan: YOU BETTER HAVE A GOOD EXCUSE

9:43 pm.
Me: Ahaha, well, I don't know if it's a great excuse, but I was distracted

Qingxuan is typing…

9:44 pm.
Qingxuan: Distracted, huh ;)

9:44 pm.
Qingxuan: Has the flower crowned prince finally been…in the most delicate of terms, deflowered? Hehe

Xie Lian lurched forward where he sat. It felt like a wire had been cut somewhere in his brain and short-circuited, eyes wide in horrified disbelief—that's what she thought was going on?!

9:44 pm.
Me: No?? No! Qingxuan.

Ahem.

9:45 pm.
Qingxuan: Aw, that's too bad really. Maybe the first date is too soon for you after all!

9:45 pm.
Me: It isn't a date!

9:45 pm.
Qingxuan: HAHAHHAHAHAHAA

9:45 pm.
Qingxuan: You might want to try telling HIM that

9:45 pm.
Me: What??

9:45 pm.
Me: Qingxuan, did he say something to you?

9:46 pm.
Qingxuan: About it being a date? ;)

Xie Lian inhaled deeply. There was no point in putting up a mask around Shi Qingxuan—she was sure to embarrass him anyways.

9:46 pm.
Me: Yes.

9:46 pm.
Qingxuan: He didn't have to! It's just obvious

9:46 pm.
Me: What is?

9:47 pm.
Qingxuan: That he likes you! And don't even get me STARTED on you, you ogle him at work like he's the most fascinating thing you've ever seen lmao. He's all you talk about anymore (it's adorable)

Well.

He was.

9:47 pm.
Me: Alright. Say that's true. What's your point?

9:48 pm.
Qingxuan: That maybe it wasn't stated outright that it was a date, but HE wants it to be, and so do YOU, so is it not a date? What exactly have you two been doing the last few hours you've been dead to me?

9:48 pm.
Me: We…went to the café, then the market by his apartment to get stuff to cook with. We made food, and now

9:48 pm.
Me: Ah! Right, I forgot to tell you, I'm staying the night here now haha…

Qingxuan is typing…

9:48 pm.
Qingxuan: Ahhh, domestic married bliss. I was right after all!

9:48 pm.
Me: Qingxuan…

9:49 pm.
Qingxuan: Anyways, I'm glad you're safe and all that, I'm sorry to interrupt your date/sleepover, which we are now officially calling it!! No buts!! In the morning A-Xuan is gonna be stopping by, I'll have him bring your things if he isn't being a grump :p text me if you need anything!

Despite being redder than the chili oil the wontons had basked in, Xie Lian still laughed softly at her departing message.

9:50 pm.
Me: Thank you, Qingxuan. See you tomorrow :)

9:50 pm.
Qingxuan: Night night! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡ zzzzz

Feeling quite winded from that whole interaction, Xie Lian slid his phone back into the pocket of his jeans and glanced over his shoulder at the sound of muted footsteps coming his way.

Chapter Text

Hua Cheng stood a couple paces away, holding in his arms a small pile of neatly folded clothes. “Gege,” he smiled, coming a little closer as Xie Lian moved to abandon his place on the loveseat. “These should be about the right size. They're a bit old, but they've recently been cleaned.”

Even as he said so, Xie Lian could detect the freshness of a lavender smelling laundry detergent wafting off of the haul as Hua Cheng handed them over, resisting the urge to bring them closer and breathe them in.

“Ah, thank you, San Lang! Where should I…?” He began, peeking behind the taller man into the drowsy darkness of the awaiting stretch of hallway. A single wall sconce bounced warm, dreamy light at the end, where a table was fitted into the space and stacked with various books and oddities.

Hua Cheng stepped to the side, gesturing with his hand as he instructed him, “Gege can change in the bathroom if he likes, it's the second door on the left. There's also a guest bedroom right next to it.”

With a small nod, Xie Lian smiled quietly at him as he passed by, navigating the corridor with ease now that he had a clear idea of where to go.

He did stop to check out the guest space Hua Cheng mentioned, where he assumed he would be sleeping for the night, though he ultimately decided to change in the bathroom before investigating it more.

Clicking the door shut behind him, he briefly stopped to admire the luxurious feel of the space after setting his things down on the sink ledge.

His thoughts momentarily went off track as he eyed the dark, elegantly patterned wallpaper he had caught a sliver of in the first picture Hua Cheng sent him of a drenched E-Ming, shaking his head firmly a couple of times to rid his mind of a rather detailed mental image of someone else soaking wet in that gorgeous clawfoot tub.

Sighing a tad more forcefully than was wise for his poor lungs, Xie Lian decided to take a better look at the clothes Hua Cheng was lending him.

He picked up a well loved black hoodie faded to a dark gray from being through the wash so many times, turning it over in his hands.

The tag on the collar displaying the sizing and fabric materials was worn and unclear, smudged blue ink staining it.

As he held it out for inspection, he could tell that it probably wouldn't fit Hua Cheng well now, though it was fairly baggy and could be used as a last resort if he had no other options. (He had never seen Hua Cheng wear the same outfit twice, so that seemed an impossible occurrence.)

A vivid picture of said ‘last resort’ materialized in his mind despite the unlikeliness of it; Hua Cheng trying in vain to tug the too short sleeves down over his wrists, mildly disgruntled as he stretched up to reach something and the hoodie rose with his movements, riding along his back to expose a sliver of pale skin—

Nope, nope, nope!

He could only do so much shameless fantasizing in someone else's bathroom without feeling the guilt heaping on his shoulders like a ton of bricks.

Peering at the sweatshirt with flushed cheeks, he realized it looked vaguely familiar for some reason. But as he slipped out of his own sweater and traded it for Hua Cheng's, pushing his arms past the sleeves, he couldn't understand why it would be. It wasn't as though it was particularly distinct, either—it didn't even have anything to define it. No logo, number, or anything.

Hua Cheng had also left him a pair of comfortable lounging pants and an additional shirt in case he decided to change out of his other one, which he went to deposit on top of the guest room's wardrobe after swapping out his remaining attire. As he exited the bathroom, his attention was drawn to a warm light coming from the darkness of an unexplored space—in a single glance he could tell that it wasn't Hua Cheng's room, more of a study than anything else.

Numerous bookshelves lined the back walls, and the floor was open except for a few easels. His eyes curiously raked the table piled with paints and pastels, shortly falling to the scrapped drawings crumpled and thrown into a trash can beside it. It hit him very suddenly that this must be the studio Hua Cheng so often kept the door closed to while He Xuan resided in the apartment, except now it housed a single presence in it and silently invited another, a beacon of endless curiosity.

Hua Cheng sat at another long table pushed in front of a large, ornate window, quietly examining what appeared to be a piece of decorated silverware—a spoon. He slowly looked up, and though it was his right side that was facing him, covered partly by a black patch, he still must have sensed him lingering in the doorway. Had he been breathing too hard?

“Gege,” he greeted, confident enough in his guess that he said so without fully meeting his eyes or phrasing it as a question. “Come in.”

“What is San Lang working on?” Xie Lian asked, intrigued, as he stepped inside at Hua Cheng's invitation. Wisely, the room was rather absent of carpeting or rugs as could typically be found in any other section of Hua Cheng's abode. He spotted splatters of paint imbued into the red toned wood grains of the floor, stains he must not have been able to clean out.

He took a closer look at the spread laid out in front of Hua Cheng, but couldn't make sense of it until he spotted two lovely pieces of jewelry sitting at the top of the table. Rings?

“San Lang,” he breathed out. “You…collect scraps, too?”

Hua Cheng set down the spoon he was currently bending in what seemed to be some sort of compression machine, letting it fall to the surface of the desk with a light clatter. He met Xie Lian's eyes across the room, unblinking and silent for just a moment before breaking out into soft laughter.

His hand lifted to cover his mouth slightly, and if Xie Lian weren't so flustered, he would have been blushing for another reason entirely. Seeing how embarrassed he was, Hua Cheng quickly amended with a fond twinkle in his eye, “No, no, gege…this San Lang isn't laughing at you. I was just…” he glanced off to the side, searching for the proper word.

His hands moved to fidget with the stem of the spoon, twirling it between his thumb and pointer finger. “Surprised. Is that what gege is calling it now?”

“Calling it now?” Xie Lian echoed, the tension in his body releasing its vice grip on him. Of course Hua Cheng wouldn't laugh at him, he knew that perfectly well by now, even if his subconscious was determined to keep him on his toes. After all, gathering junk off the street (what Mu Qing and Feng Xin had called it) was not a hobby employed by most, and he was normally tentative in bringing it up around people he was unfamiliar with.

In his excitement, he'd forgotten to exert caution, and was overwhelmed by relief that Hua Cheng hadn't been put off by his assumption.

“Mn. Gege has been collecting scraps for a while, hasn't he?” He prompted, and Xie Lian stiffened momentarily—right.

Hua Cheng had known him in the past, so it made sense that he might have also come into his life at a point that repurposing other people's trash had been more of a necessity than a peaceful past-time. He hadn't given him the impression of looking down on it, however, which was quite comforting.

He also already had an idea of his living circumstances as well as his income, which he felt would have been mortifying if it were anyone else—especially someone so clearly accustomed to being surrounded by finery. For some reason, Hua Cheng knowing these things and still not viewing him any differently put him so at ease that he often forgot himself in his presence.

It was a little funny, really; their positions had almost been swapped, completely opposite of each other at different times. Xie Lian had grown up treated as royalty, struggling to find his way in the world after his plummet from grace.

Hua Cheng knew what it was to suffer on the streets and avoid going home from an early age, and he had worked hard for everything he had since then, proving his worth to a world that had dealt him unlucky cards.

Actually, phrasing it that way…

He'd probably accrued some divine debt by comparing them at all!

Xie Lian quietly took a seat on a padded stool in front of one of the easels, directly across from Hua Cheng's workstation. His lips pressed together, hands nervously fidgeting in his lap with the string of his borrowed sweatpants.

Hua Cheng went oddly still in his chair; Xie Lian heard it creak slightly as he sat forward in it, straight as a board, eyes roving his attire properly for the first time since he'd entered the studio. He said nothing to acknowledge the strange reaction, though it made Xie Lian glance fretfully down at himself—had he maybe put on the sweatshirt inside out?

“Ah, yes. I try to pick up things that are clean, but there are some pieces that are broken and need mending that are just too beautiful to pass up. My apartment is filled with things I've either put back together, gotten for free, or had given to me by friends.” He explained, smiling timidly as Hua Cheng's dark gaze softened on him in the low light of the room.

“The…silverware San Lang is using looks unusual and out of style for what you might find in standard stores, so I thought maybe…he had found his collection through similar means.” He murmured, and was taken aback by Hua Cheng's small nod of agreement.

“Mostly, I look for them in antique shops. Some of them were family heirlooms passed down by my mother. I didn't take much from home, when I left…but I went back for things like this, before I sold the land.” Hua Cheng divulged, Xie Lian humming in soft acknowledgement, smiling quietly.

“And San Lang…is turning them into rings? Is the shape not awkward?” He wondered aloud, earning another quiet chuckle from Hua Cheng as he slowly scooted his chair over, making a short gesture with his hand.

“I don't use the round part, gege. Do you want to learn how to do it?” Hua Cheng smiled, encouraging Xie Lian to bring his stool over as he nodded enthusiastically, eyes round with excitement.

Xie Lian soon lost track of time as Hua Cheng walked him through the process, and he was given the wonderful opportunity to try for himself after seeing it done a couple times, swapping spots with the other man.

At first he'd been very hesitant, afraid he would ruin one of the lovely pieces Hua Cheng had spent so long collecting, but he was quickly assured that if it didn't turn out quite right, it could be amended.

The most dangerous aspect of the affair was probably cutting the handles off the spoons and grinding them down, but with some patient guidance, Xie Lian got the hang of it on his third try—the first time he sawed it too short, the second the blade had gone completely lopsided, and Hua Cheng had had to very spiritedly assure him that he'd find a use for it still.

“This one looks too big for me,” Hua Cheng stated calmly, examining a newly cut ring with patterned butterflies and leaves, very reminiscent of the few adorning his fingers already. It seemed that was his preferred style, as it reflected much of the subtle designs even in his clothes.

He slipped it on his index finger to test it out, but the only one it would have not immediately fallen off of was his thumb. Xie Lian tipped forward slightly, taking the chance for what it was—an opportunity that allowed him a long, purely self-indulgent look at Hua Cheng's hands.

The digits were slender and elegant, lanky as the man himself. His nails, painted stylishly black, were noticeably longer than his own, which were always kept short due to his habit of either cracking them by accident or chewing them.

He hated getting anything underneath them, and had to beg Shi Qingxuan not to go too far when she gave him a mani-pedi during one of their sleepovers, preferring to keep things casual and simple.

This was clearly not the case with Hua Cheng, who took even the appearance of his hands into account, styling them like any other part of himself.

In comparison to someone like Xie Lian, whose fingers were shorter and bore the signs of hard manual labor on a frequent basis, Hua Cheng's could even be called willowy, but certainly not dainty or delicate.

Xie Lian had witnessed the strength of them, the poise and precision, and knew with certainty that they were not weak. These were the hands of a painter, a creator, a man who grew flowers from paper, firm and unyielding.

“Maybe gege should have it.” Hua Cheng murmured beside him, and Xie Lian blinked in pleasant surprise.

He could see the shadow of a smile on the youth's lips as Xie Lian shyly extended his hand in answer, and Hua Cheng gently held the underside of his palm as he decided which finger to place the ring upon.

The exchange felt oddly intimate, and wasn't made any less so by Hua Cheng settling on the finger closest to his pinky. He swallowed, feeling a lump in his throat stick as the ring was gently pushed past the lower joint, held securely.

It was such a simple thing, the softness in which Hua Cheng grasped his hand briefly before slowly letting go with an air of reluctance, saying with soft appreciation into the space between them, “It fits well.”

That was an understatement.

It fit perfectly, and Xie Lian tentatively started to suspect that perhaps it had not been such a fortunate accident as Hua Cheng made it out to be, watching the barely suppressed emotion flit across the man's face as Xie Lian held his newly bejeweled hand up to the light of the desk lamp, hoping to see it better.

If it was an excuse for Hua Cheng to put a ring on his finger, well, he didn't have a single word of complaint. He couldn't contain his smile as he stared down at it, examining it at every angle possible, passing the thumb of his opposite hand along the deep grooves and indentations.

“Thank you. For this, and…ah, for teaching me.” Xie Lian said softly, his eyes lifting to meet Hua Cheng's.

He couldn't have put a name to the feeling in his heart if he tried.

Knowing he was beginning to fall into a pit he couldn't climb out of, this hopeless, unwanted love of his that bloomed like a morning glory beneath the rays of sunlight of Hua Cheng's unguarded smile—because 'love' wasn't possibly a strong enough word to define the ache within him.

All he knew was that it felt like the first warm day of spring after a frigid winter, and it smelled like fresh blossoms cascading down like rain over the sidewalk, delivering with it a sense of belonging and hope.

And in the black of Hua Cheng's eye, somehow not losing any of its captivating depth in the lamplight it reflected, he thought he saw the same sentiment. A quiet prayer, a sutra, a pleading for him to hear.

“Gege, I have to—”

Xie Lian cursed the vengeful god who decided that this very moment was the most appropriate time for him to yawn, redirecting Hua Cheng's attention to the pressing matter of how late in the evening it was.

He would never know what he might have said then, the other man seeming all too happy to pretend that whatever it had been that he was going to tell him was of no importance as he slowly got up from his chair and placed a cool hand on his shoulder.

“Would gege like to retire for the night?” He questioned gently.

Adamantly shaking his head, Xie Lian suppressed another yawn he could feel building traitorously in his chest. “No, I'm…I'm okay for a while. We could, ah…” How obvious was it that he was stalling for more time…?

If possible, Hua Cheng's warm expression softened even further. He didn't refute him, instead proposing calmly, “Alright, if gege says so. How about a movie, then?”

He all but jumped to his feet at that, answering more with his actions than words as he grinned, led back out into the living room by Hua Cheng, who looked to be holding in another bout of laughter. He stopped beside the man as he knelt near a rack of DVDs, thumbing through them.

“These are mostly He Xuan's. They're all about fish.” Hua Cheng turned his nose up at that, the skin over the bridge scrunching adorably, and Xie Lian burst out into sleep deprived giggles as he bent to take a closer look.

“The Little Mermaid?” Xie Lian read out, amused. “Happy Feet…you'd think he'd avoid that one, since the penguins are eating the fish?”

Hua Cheng snickered, “Gege is on the right track. This is what he calls a horror film—he watches it when he either wants a good cry or to get goosebumps. I've seen it happen.”

“...You're kidding.”

“I wish I was, gege.”

He saw Hua Cheng shudder in displeasure at the utter absurdity that was his roommate, and Xie Lian laughed for so long, so hard, that his ribs had started to hurt from the exertion as he palmed at his damp eyes, desperate to stop the flow of tears induced by an unsolicited ab workout.

When he had mostly come back to himself, he realized that the echoing he had thought he heard was not what he originally imagined it to be, and instead found Hua Cheng himself chuckling as he dragged a hand down his face, struggling to get a hold of himself.

Xie Lian's breath faltered in his chest as he watched the other lean his head back, grinning and sighing aloud, and fought the heat blooming across his cheeks by hurriedly grabbing for a film at random, reading the description.

“Finding Dory? I thought it was Finding Nemo.”

Xie Lian's brows raised as Hua Cheng plucked another out from right underneath, revealing its counterpart.

“Finding Dory came out after it, a few years ago.” He explained, putting it in its original spot. Xie Lian, however, held onto the Finding Dory disc, and suggested they put it on since he hadn't seen the sequel.

Hua Cheng readily obliged, admitting that he hadn't either, and soon they found themselves both reclining on the loveseat with a tub of neapolitan ice cream between them. He didn't usually snack or dabble in sweets, hating how the sugar stuck to his teeth, but it was a habit to during movies.

“...Why is only the chocolate mostly gone?” He asked, as he dipped his spoon into the untouched center of vanilla.

Hua Cheng's eye slid over to him, giving him all the answer he needed, and they broke out into soft, private giggling again, leaning closer together. He felt their shoulders brush every time he or Hua Cheng moved their arm to scoop out more of the ice cream, and neither made any attempt at returning to their original corners, instead relaxing at the center of the couch.

The film had just started to play when he thought he heard the soft padding of tiny feet, and then, from next to his leg came a raspy little meow.

“E-Ming!” Xie Lian exclaimed, resisting the urge to reach down and snatch the kitten up right away. He had always been rather fond of animals, and they of him, but he knew cats had a tendency to be skittish around people they were unfamiliar with and therefore politely extended his hand in greeting first for E-Ming to smell. “I'm so happy to finally meet you. Have you been good?”

E-Ming looked like a black soot sprite, his fur spiked out and fluffy, singular wide eye trained intently on him. His tail raised high in defiance at Xie Lian's final words, as though he were assuring him of his decent behavior.

He let out a soft gasp when the pint-sized feline eagerly stretched out to rub his cheek against his outstretched hand, instantly mewling for his attention, and Hua Cheng said quietly, “I think he wants gege to pick him up.”

Xie Lian decided to do just that, carefully lifting E-Ming onto the couch, where he was content to rasp his sandpaper tongue against his arm a couple times before nestling in between his legs, which were crossed over each other. He could hear, and feel, E-Ming vibrating with purrs like a motor, which only grew louder and more prominent as he stroked along the creature's spine and pet softly behind his ears. “Ah, San Lang…he's so cute, I might just have to take him home with me tomorrow.”

At that, Hua Cheng scoffed without any real heat, “By all means, gege, he's yours. He'd probably listen to you much better.” His smile was sincere, though he could tell that the other man was sulking, maybe wishing his cat liked him more. “E-Ming doesn't usually take to strangers. He still hisses at He Xuan and runs to hide, but he seems to adore gege.”

Xie Lian smiled happily, humming softly as he watched E-Ming's good eye slowly slide shut, content to slip into dreams. He wondered if cats had them.

He could feel himself growing more and more drowsy as the minutes ticked by, comforted by the soft, vibrating purrs of E-Ming and the security in sitting beside Hua Cheng. No words needed to be exchanged between them, the room quiet and peacefully dark except for the colorful screen moving between scenes of the main characters. His stomach was full and he ached slightly all over from their outing. Xie Lian's tiredness was a palpable thing he couldn't seem to deny any further, clinging to wakefulness.

His only passing thought as his vision grew black around the edges, fading in and out as his eyes fluttered shut, was that he'd been wrong in thinking the rest of Hua Cheng might be cold, too. Rather, he was invitingly warm.

So…warm…

He did not hear when Hua Cheng softly called to him, nor did he feel the way the man tensed as an unanticipated weight fell upon his shoulder in reply.

Hua Cheng paused, momentarily frozen in place as his senses rapidly processed the most recent advancement.

A handful of minutes had passed when he finally timidly peered down at Xie Lian's sleeping form, his cheek slightly squashed where it lay flat on the plane of his shoulder, threatening to slip lower without intervention.

Endearingly, he was still holding loosely onto his spoon, which was thankfully dipped into the tub and had not gotten melted cream all over him.

Very slowly, Hua Cheng reached out and wrapped his hand around Xie Lian's, uncurling his fingers from the handle. He set both of their spoons on a napkin, snapping the lid shut on the ice cream container and placing it on the coffee table to put back in the freezer when he got up next.

He was mindful not to shift Xie Lian around too much during this laborious process, following the unspoken rule (mostly applying to animals) to never move while they graced you with the honor of falling asleep on you.

His heart had threatened to jump out of his throat when Xie Lian stirred a bit against him, quickly settling, and Hua Cheng breathed a trembling sigh of relief that his straightening up had not ruined what was likely a once in a lifetime opportunity.

Actually, he couldn't believe this was happening at all—he was aware that his luck had drastically turned around years ago, but this? He might as well have been dreaming, or died and gone to heaven. Either was a more plausible explanation than Xie Lian laying on him.

Hua Cheng let the rest of the movie play out to the credits before searching for the remote to turn the television off. Though he told himself it was because he didn't want to risk waking Xie Lian up, it was really due to the heart palpitations that took another half hour to get under control.

On any normal night it would be a while yet until he even laid his head down in an effort to sleep, five hours or so usually sufficing to get him through another day. Now, in the darkness he did not sit in alone, the content, slow breathing of Xie Lian beside him anchored him to the present, lulling him and drawing him in close to share that rare realm of dreams.

He had spent so long chasing the impression of it; that feeling of laying side by side, back to back in a cramped, suffocating and windowless room with only their thoughts and each other's burdened presence for company, a single constant in a world of variables that never stopped changing.

Sometimes, Xie Lian's breath stalled or stopped completely for a moment right before he inhaled like a dying man, exhaling raggedly after a nightmare had pulled him to his unfortunate reality.

Often, he fell back into his thin sheets and blankets without a word in acknowledgement of it, but if he looked over and remembered who he shared this hell with, he warily called, ”Wu Ming? Are you…awake?”

Hua Cheng always answered with a soft “Yes,’’ and if he was lucky enough to find Xie Lian in a charitable mood, the elder would share scattered pieces of the terror he had escaped, timidly seeking his hand in the darkness to hold onto.

Hua Cheng listened without interrupting, and didn't hesitate to gently squeeze the man's hand, running his thumb along the underside of it, something he found worked quite well on a sleep-addled and touch-starved Xie Lian.

In the shadows, they were closest, at their most vulnerable. Xie Lian softened over the month they spent every moment together, but he never spoke of his lapses of composure after his nightmares, and Hua Cheng didn't either.

He knew it wasn't his place to question him, and he doubted his probing would have been welcome then, when Xie Lian's wounds were so fresh and his behavior was flighty and skittish at best, unpredictable at the worst.

A part of him had not expected Xie Lian to sleep so peacefully now, though half a decade had passed since their parting. It put him at ease, knowing that wherever his consciousness rested for the time being, it was safe.

Paired with the soft trickling of the water filter in He Xuan's fish tank and its bluish glow, the ambient orange light pressing in against the frosted window not covered by the drawn curtains and the muted sounds of slow moving traffic below, Hua Cheng could feel himself drifting off where he sat.

At some point he vaguely understood that he had rested his head on top of Xie Lian's, cheek softly tickled by his hair. Breathing in the sweet aroma of jasmine, Hua Cheng sighed silently, allowing sleep to wash over him in waves, bringing with them blurry memories and the impression of a familiar smile.

Hua Cheng woke, not with the light of dawn or naturally with the need for his body to get moving, but at the sound of a door clicking tentatively shut.

With a direct view into the short holding space, his narrowed eye immediately fell upon the perpetrator of the noise, standing at the entrance.

His suspect had a ‘deer caught in headlights' look on his handsomely gaunt face as he stopped in his tracks, carrying a small turquoise and white bag that couldn't possibly be his own. By the sheer volume of pins and decorations weighing it down, it was surely Shi Qingxuan's.

The two begrudging roommates held each other's gaze for a long, tense moment, and then a grin slowly split Hua Cheng's mouth as white-hot anger bubbled up inside of him.

This was not a forgiving smile, but a predator baring their teeth, and the image was only aided further by the terrifying glint of his unnaturally sharp canines. He Xuan dropped the bag on the floor, and it landed with a soft thud as he hissed under his breath, “Fuck. Fuck!”

He rushed back out the door, and Hua Cheng stopped himself from giving chase only long enough to very carefully (and longingly) pry himself away from Xie Lian. His frustration towards He Xuan abated at the sight of him sleeping undisturbed by the other man's arrival, and he gently laid him down properly on the cushions, imagining his neck would really hurt if he didn't straighten himself out for at least a little while.

Tucking a couple pillows behind him and covering him in the plush blanket that had gradually started slipping off, Hua Cheng couldn't help himself from watching for a few moments once he had stood and prepared himself for the verbal beat down he was going to give that fish-brained bastard.

He Xuan was much slower on land than he was in the water, only adding to Hua Cheng's growing belief that the man had an unsightly, gilled family down in the depths, and he hadn't managed to get far. Maybe it was all the undigested food he ate that weighed him down.

He was making his way in a pitifully slow march down the stairs when he started cursing at the sound of Hua Cheng calling sweetly from behind him, “Didi~ where do you think you're going, ah?”

“FUCK! You stay away from me!” He Xuan growled, sounding too fearful for his point to really resonate. “And don't call me that, it's sick!”

Hua Cheng was rapidly gaining on him, and he warned as his voice dropped a few degrees lower, “If you wake up gege by screaming, I'll make sure your precious fish tank finds a new home in the garbage disposal.”

He Xuan's steps faltered at this, and he nearly tripped into the nearest wall as he rounded a corner and was firmly grasped at the shoulder by Hua Cheng, who really did shove him into it. Not as harshly as he should have.

He crowded the man up against it, and He Xuan, only a centimeter shorter than himself, tried not to reveal how intimidated he was.

Even so, he could see the raised hairs along the man's neck, his stricken golden eyes flitting cautiously over Hua Cheng's furious face.

“Did you forget that this staircase goes to the library? Where did you imagine you were about to escape to?” Hua Cheng sneered, as He Xuan curled his lip up at him and said in an infuriatingly monotonous voice,

“I left a sandwich down there yesterday. I was planning to go get it.”

“How bottomless is your stomach?” Hua Cheng sighed, and with this return of their usual banter, He Xuan relaxed slightly against the wall. At least he wasn't in immediate danger of being ripped apart like one of Hua Cheng's failed attempts at coherent calligraphy.

Hua Cheng released his shoulder, but didn't step away, and He Xuan quirked a brow at him suspiciously, “What's got you in such a pissy mood? Your beloved Dianxia is sleeping on your couch, was using you as a pillow—I’d think you would be over the moon. Didn't he tell you I'd be stopping by?”

Deciding to address the latter half of that statement first, Hua Cheng stared back at him with furrowed brows. “No, he didn't.”

By the look on his face, he was definitely blaming He Xuan for that error in communication instead of Xie Lian, and He Xuan silently yearned to learn the man's secret in somehow always staying on Hua Cheng's good side.

What was worse was that he seemed to have no idea.

It was like he had a permanent get out of jail free card. For fuck's sake, he knew the guy was obsessively fixated on him, but Hua Cheng's bias was at times deluded. Apparently love made one blind after all.

Knowing he wasn't going to get anywhere with He Xuan unless he was upfront, Hua Cheng finally took a step away to lean into the wall opposite. His arms were folded across his chest, and his initial frustration had shifted into distress as he explained quietly, “I could have found him much sooner. He's been in this area for a while, and has likely known your girlfriend for years. Ah…how long have you two been dating, now? A year and a half at least, right?”

He Xuan caught on quickly, and his pupils contracted. Oh, he was so dead. “Hua Cheng,” he began slowly, “I really didn't know.”

Hua Cheng said nothing, but fixed him with a scrutinizing stare, and He Xuan went on to say in what was a strangely genuine way that could only be understood as such between them alone, “When I first met Qingxuan, I had nothing but a passing interest. She talked constantly, but I didn't start listening until it was too late—at that point she'd passed over specific names, thinking I knew them. I was aware that she had a ‘best friend' who wasn't me, but it took going into that damn shop and seeing his name tag to realize.”

He Xuan inhaled long and deep before forcing out through his teeth, “...I'm sorry. If I'd paid more attention, this wouldn't have been so long of a wait.”

There was a silence that weighed between them like the pressure of the deepest ocean coming in from all directions, a sensation He Xuan normally relaxed beneath. Now, it had him holding his breath, begging for release, until Hua Cheng said offhandedly, “You're lucky I didn't record you more or less agreeing that she's your best friend, she'd never let you forget. I'm sure she'd believe me if I told her anyway, proof or not.”

All at once the grim atmosphere had lightened considerably, and though he sensed that Hua Cheng would probably slip into self-deprecating habits if he had no one to justifiably place the responsibility on, He Xuan was relieved that there was no blood spilled over the affair.

“You do that, and I'll tell Xie Lian exactly what you were doing while getting ready to leave for your ‘not a date.’” He Xuan threatened calmly, lifting his hand to idly inspect his nails. Even with his attention diverted, he could almost feel in the air the way cold fear coursed through his dear brother as he went very, very still across from him.

Dangling blackmail over Hua Cheng's head was like sticking your hand in a lake that might have starving piranhas in it. It was a calculated risk with a high chance of his fingers being mauled to the bone, but he found that anything regarding the man's not so subtle affections (and embarrassing mishaps in their stead) occasionally proved to be incredibly effective.

Hua Cheng's voice was like cracking ice, just barely sturdy enough to stay level and cold, “You…what do you think you're—”

He Xuan stepped away from the wall, and began to pace up and down the narrow strip of hallway, “’What do I wear? There's nothing in this closet but trash!’’’ he mocked, in the most aggravated, pompous sounding rendition he could. “’Should I go out and buy something? No, that might set me back for time…is my hair too messy? Will he notice it?’”

“He Xuan—”

He Xuan knew how dangerous it was to continue when Hua Cheng sounded like he was a single smart remark away from dragging him by the hair off the balcony, but he detected a trace of embarrassment and fear intermingling in his visible eye, and found the inner power to continue, “Ah, the walls are thin. Do you know how many of your monologues I've had to listen to? Among other things…”

The elder scowled deeply, saying with a tad more color to his cheeks than usual, “Be careful with what you say next.”

He Xuan leaned a bit closer as he stopped in front of him, “Twenty-five percent off my debt, and you keep your peace of mind.”

It looked like it physically hurt Hua Cheng to spit out venomously, “Ten.”

“Twenty.” He Xuan bartered.

“Fifteen.”

“Fine.”

“You sure do settle, don't you?” Hua Cheng smiled thinly, as He Xuan glared at him. When it came to Hua Cheng, yes—this was a well scored goal. It had paid off to swim with the piranhas for a minute after all.

The pair unhurriedly made their way up the stairs again, He Xuan explaining that Shi Qingxuan had asked him with a convincing, pleading look to bring over some of the things Xie Lian had left at her apartment, and that apparently she had let the man know He Xuan would be stopping by in the morning if he agreed.

He insisted with an expressionless face that he would have otherwise avoided his current residence like the plague, knowing who resided inside of it, which made Hua Cheng smile in a smug, self-satisfied manner.

“By the way, what was that God awful smell in the kitchen? I nearly threw up coming inside—it’s like burnt flesh. Did you blow someone up in the microwave?” He Xuan questioned dryly, not sounding as though he would be altogether shocked if that happened to be the case. The bastard was one minor inconvenience away from world domination and giving Cruella De Vil a run for her money in being the most fashionable villain.

Hua Cheng replied coolly, “Your nose isn't working properly. Gege helped me with the cooking last night.”

He Xuan stopped on the the third step from the top of the first flight, jaw dropping in horror, “That smell is food?”

Hua Cheng didn't stop to accommodate his slower pace, forcing He Xuan to catch up with him, “What else would it be?”

“You did hear my suggestion just now, right?”

“Yes, and I said your nose isn't working the way it should. I ate quite a bit of it, and it tasted perfectly fine.”

They reached the landing, and He Xuan stared at him apprehensively. Hua Cheng turned his nose up at him in disdain, “What do you want?”

“Maybe you should go to the hospital, and see if you're like…dying.” He Xuan suggested lamely, and Hua Cheng couldn't quite tell if he was being serious or just feigning concern. It seemed like the former, and that made him shudder.

“They teach you about all kinds of man-made disasters in history class, but I never really knew how to think of what it would be like, especially the smell. That—” He Xuan pointed in the direction of the door to their apartment as they came up on it, “Is how I imagine Chernobyl smelled.”

“One more word, and I'll add another five percent back to your debt. And do not give him such a trash opinion if he asks what you think.”

He Xuan wisely shut up, letting Hua Cheng enter before him. He slid in and closed the door behind them, finding the man picking up Qingxuan's travel bag and setting it on the coffee table for Xie Lian to see when he got up.

He Xuan stepped part of the way into the living room and glanced at where Hua Cheng stood. His eyes fell to the giant tub of neapolitan ice cream that had obviously been left out, and rushed over to inspect it, popping the lid off.

“It's all melted!” He yelled under his breath at the other, and Hua Cheng shrugged noncommittally. “Your—your vanilla and strawberry is all over my side!”

Hua Cheng ignored him, as He Xuan maneuvered with a sour expression into the kitchen to put it back in the freezer. He closed the door, tugging open the fridge to grab a water when his gaze slid to the new additions of two large containers and what looked like a box of leftovers from Qingxuan's coffee shop.

He actually had to stop himself from regurgitating his breakfast when he cautiously cracked open the lid to a bloody looking substance in the bigger bowl, shoving it where it had been originally.

At some point during his dry heaving at the congee that moved around as though alive, reminding him of those freaky sourdough starters Shi Qingxuan had shown him on social media, except a pot of fucking rice contained just rice and water and had nothing else to give it a whole life of its own, Hua Cheng had joined him in the kitchen.

“You—” He Xuan gagged just at the immediate memory of the dishes sent straight from hell, “You ate that? I always thought you were like a cockroach, coming back no matter what, but how are you alive after that?”

Hua Cheng rolled his eyes, “Just say you're a weakling and move on.”

He should have known something was very wrong indeed when He Xuan, the man who devoured any food in sight, was about to have a stroke just looking at and smelling Xie Lian's cooking, but he didn't care about his wisdom enough to take it into genuine consideration. Besides, he really had enjoyed eating dinner with Xie Lian, a meal they had made together. With some tweaking, the next recipes they tried were sure to improve.

He Xuan covered his mouth for a long minute, and didn't speak until most of the green in his face had subsided, “I don't know what he did, but it's not right. And you're probably one of the better cooks I know, so it had to be an error on his part. I hope he's not eating that kind of crap regularly.”

Hua Cheng looked extremely displeased at the insinuation that Xie Lian was being faulted, saying with carefully regulated calm, “Why don't you give it a try? You may find it tastes better than whatever you're smelling.”

“I wouldn't put that anywhere near my mouth, not even if it was the only stuff left on earth in an apocalypse.” He Xuan said, shaking his head.

“Ah…I swear I've heard Shi Qingxuan say that once, about your…” Hua Cheng tastefully trailed off, but the insinuation was obvious.

“Eat shit. Oh, wait, you did—”

“Insult gege's cooking again and I'll—”

“What? Have a tantrum over what to wear?”

The snarl that left Hua Cheng was a little too loud, and they both peered behind the fridge at the couch as Xie Lian shifted and turned onto his side, mumbling something briefly before falling back asleep. E-Ming had come to sit on the armrest, staring at them in a judgemental way.

“...I'm taking a shower. You better be long gone when I'm done.” Hua Cheng said in a mutter, stalking past He Xuan as he made his way to the bathroom.

He Xuan flipped him off as he went, taking a detour to his bedroom for a change of clothes. “’You better be long gone when I'm done.’ Asshole.” With a desire to keep the fifteen percent off his debt, though, he figured it wasn't worth irking the man's ire any further—especially not during his quality time with ‘gege.’

Before he descended the stairs and made his way to the parking lot, he sent a message to Hua Cheng to let him know when it was safe for him to return, otherwise he would stay with Shi Qingxuan.

The longest they had ever spent together was two weeks away in a fancy resort for a Christmas vacation, none of their activities including snow, but they were with each other more than they were apart, and Qingxuan had started talking about them getting an apartment together after they graduated, or when Hua Cheng inevitably kicked him out if Xie Lian moved in.

When He Xuan keyed the lock to the door and turned the knob, stepping into the threshold, it was strangely quiet. One thing he had come to count on with Shi Qingxuan was that she always had something keeping noise alive in the space.

Whether that was spending hours talking on the phone with someone, filming a video for the internet, running the television in the background or turning him deaf from her long-winded stories—

Now, it was silent as the dead.

Until it wasn't.

From nearby, he could hear what sounded like soft cries.

He Xuan set his keys in the stained glass bowl Xie Lian had given Shi Qingxuan a month or two ago, looking down the hallway. He could see a bit of light coming from beneath the bathroom door, and slowly made his way to stand in front of it. “...Qingxuan?” He called cautiously, and the noise immediately died down as though choked and strangled into nothing.

“Is the door locked? Can I come in?” He questioned with an edge of urgency, praying to whatever God was out there that she hadn't slipped and hit her head or something—

“No,” Shi Qingxuan answered thickly, and He Xuan sighed in spite of himself.

“No it isn't locked, or no I can't come in?” He prompted, and Shi Qingxuan hesitated a moment before mumbling,

“It's not locked.”

He didn't waste another second, pushing through and shutting the door behind him. The sight in front of him gave him pause, as Shi Qingxuan's sniffling started anew. Everything was wrong with this picture.

She sat on the closed lid of the toilet seat, legs drawn up to her chest and arms wrapped protectively around them. Her wavy hair was wildly askew, face clean of any makeup. Thick tears rolled down her cheeks, and the clothes she was wearing—

“...Are those mine?” He Xuan started slowly, which was clearly very wrong to say, because his girlfriend broke into cries as she stammered uselessly.

Feeling his heart sink in his chest, He Xuan quickly moved to kneel on the floor in front of her. “Hey, hey,” he whispered, reaching to take her trembling hands in his. He was relieved that she made no effort to pull away, squeezing a little tighter to divert her attention. “Tell me what's going on.”

Somewhat encouraged by the lack of frustration in his voice, she turned her wide eyes to him, lower lip wobbling. “I-I—” she cut herself off with a hiccup, and swallowed hard. “I don't know,” she admitted, and He Xuan shoved about ten more inappropriate questions down— definitely not the time to ask her if she was going to start menstruating or starting early menopause, especially when she didn't even physically have the faculties to.

His options were limited, though.

Shi Qingxuan wore her heart on her sleeve; she was a crybaby. But that was over silly things, like him cooking breakfast for her or getting an ugly glass bowl from Xie Lian with her and He Xuan's initials on it.

The last time she had cried herself into a stupor…

Well, it had been because of her idiot brother.

“Did Shi Wudu say something to you?” He asked, in what he hoped was not a tone giving away the anger already burning in his throat.

He must have been close to the truth, because Shi Qingxuan buried her face between her knees and cried herself hoarse for the next several minutes as he tried to console her. Her cheeks were red and puffy by the time she had come back to herself enough to say, “...Not…exactly.”

He Xuan studied her for a moment. Shi Qingxuan was not a liar. Actually, aside from Hua Cheng and his brute honesty, she was the friendlier alternative to someone who physically couldn't tell anything but the truth.

Once, she had made herself sick after managing to hold in a secret pertaining to a surprise party being thrown for his birthday, and that was the only time she had ever intentionally hid something from him. So if it wasn't Shi Wudu, then who on earth had upset her this terribly?

“Let's start with this, then,” he suggested patiently, gently tugging at the too big sleeve of the blazer she'd thrown over one of his black button ups. “You wear my stuff all the time, but not all styled together. What's up with the business casual look? And in this color? You hate wearing only black.” He teased. This actually managed to make her smile weakly, before she shrank back in on herself as if burned by something he couldn't see.

“I…didn't feel like wearing any of my clothes. Yours were the only…” She pursed her lips, lowering her eyes. “The only ones for men here.”

He Xuan stared at her in silence for a few moments, and then said very tentatively, “Yes,” he agreed. “Because that's what I am. Qingxuan,” he exhaled slowly, “What about you?”

Shi Qingxuan's chin wobbled dangerously, and then she sobbed out, “A-Xuan, I'm so sorry, I…I haven't felt like myself, and I, I thought that maybe—maybe everything I've done so far is wrong! But it's not just that, and I…I still love being this way, but I also want…I also want, sometimes, to be how I was before!” Her cries echoed in the small space, and her wailing only grew in volume when he got to his feet, “A-Xuan, please don't leave!”

“Of course I'm not leaving, you idiot.” He Xuan huffed, moving in closer so he could properly wrap his arms around Shi Qingxuan, her figure briefly going still before melting into his as she buried her face against his stomach. She squeezed him so tight he thought he might burst, and her hot tears were wetting the fabric of his shirt, but he wouldn't have let go of her for anything.

Almost ten minutes passed this way, and he finally insisted they relocate to a more comfortable place to talk. Shi Qingxuan held onto his arm like a lifeline as they made their way into her bedroom, sitting on the edge of her mattress.

He reached over for the box of tissues she kept on the nightstand, pulling out a handful and leaning towards her to gently dab at the tear tracks on her face. She blinked back at him in surprise, and he threw the dirtied ones away to pass a couple more to her, insisting she blow her own nose.

“...I was so scared,” Shi Qingxuan began in a whisper, grasping his hand so hard that it actually hurt a little. “We started dating after I'd already, well, transitioned, and having that conversation about…about my body, was terrifying.”

He Xuan nodded slowly, and encouraged her with a small smile. She inhaled deeply, a bit shakily, but at least she was getting air into her lungs. “I'm so glad you were okay with it, with me, but you've never opened up about your preferences outside of that, so I…as I started having these thoughts, wanting sometimes to just…be, what I felt in the moment—I wasn't sure how you might react. I didn't want you to…feel differently about me.” She explained quietly. His heart twisted with guilt.

He should have been more clear, but at the time, simply reassuring Shi Qingxuan that he would love her no matter what she looked like underneath her clothes was the most important thing. Now, he was telling her he also would love her no matter which ones she wore, which body and face she saw in the mirror. “Qingxuan,” he started gently, and she peered back at him, nervously fidgeting with her hands in her lap. “It doesn't matter to me. These things are all trivial when it comes to you. If you feel like a man, a woman, neither, or something in between, isn't it all still you?”

Shi Qingxuan's eyes were welling up with tears again, and as one started to roll down, he caught it with his thumb and swiped it away. “I respect you, as a person. You're my best…” he narrowed his eyes in amusement as he pulled a startled gasp from her, “Best friend, and my partner, too. I love you, inside and out. Does that answer your question?”

She nodded her head, throwing her arms around his neck and dragging him closer, whimpering, “A-Xuan! A-Xuan, I love you so much—”

He Xuan smiled into Shi Qingxuan's hair, gently petting it as he held her through another small flood, this one filled with nervous, wet sounding giggles and sighs of relief. When she pulled away, he looked her over and asked calmly, “What do you feel like right now?”

Shi Qingxuan smiled shyly, tugging at the collar of the too big blazer's collar, and He Xuan nodded in understanding. He took his hand, raising a brow, “I can't believe I'm saying this, but we should go to the mall. We'll get you some new clothes, so you have options from now on. I think I have some smaller sizes in my closet that you can wear out today.”

If Shi Qingxuan wasn't all cried out, he would certainly be breaking down yet again as his eyes sparkled, “Really? You'll go shopping with me?”

“I always go with you.” He Xuan said, furrowing his brows.

“But not willingly!” Shi Qingxuan argued, and He Xuan rolled his eyes as he gently dragged his boyfriend off the bed, leading him into the ridiculously large walk-in closet where all their clothes hung.

“Who says I'm not willing?” He Xuan drawled. Shi Qingxuan made a scandalized sound behind him.

“You've been being dramatic this whole time for no reason?!”

“If I don't make you beg for it, you'll think I'm too easy.” He Xuan reasoned.

“He Xuan, you're so mean!” Shi Qingxuan complained.

He took a couple articles off hangers, holding them up to Shi Qingxuan to see if the size would work. Finally he settled on a set of items that was closer to the man's preferred style and something he himself never wore.

“Do you like these?” He asked, and Shi Qingxuan's reply was a blinding smile as he began stripping right there without any regard to a certain marine biology student's wandering gaze, trading old for new. Shi Qingxuan's cheeks were a little red by the time he was adding the finishing touches to the look.

He was doing that on purpose, then…

Softly clearing his throat, Shi Qingxuan spun a couple times where he stood to show off the final result, asking hopefully, “How do I look?”

He Xuan said nothing in reply, instead meeting Shi Qingxuan's eyes in silence, and the other's flushed face went scarlet. “Ahaha, you're looking at me like you want to eat me, that's a bit scary…” He laughed nervously.

“When do you want to leave?” He Xuan asked calmly, though Shi Qingxuan must have read the signal in his eyes alone to pick up exactly what he was suggesting, because the other man strode across the room to aggressively shut the closet door and say breathlessly as he yanked He Xuan forward by the front of his shirt, smashing their lips together,

“We have time.”

Chapter Text

”Are you lost?”

Hong'er lifted his head slowly at the sound of a soft voice speaking from close by, unsure of what exactly he was expecting to see. Whatever it had been, it wasn't a pair of golden brown eyes crinkled at the corners in concern, or long chestnut hair tied elegantly back, carefully braided in some sections. He didn't have to look at him for long to tell that wherever he had come from, it wasn't here, and that he must have quite a lot of money to afford those clothes.

He was...pretty. Prettier than anyone he'd ever seen.

Their town wasn't very big, and there weren't many people coming here intentionally. There was little reason to.

He had taken the time to learn everyone's faces, though he often didn't bother with their names. Even if that wasn't the case, he didn't think there was any way he would have been able to forget this person if he had met him before.

He kneeled in front of the bench Hong'er sat on as another boy tried to pull him away, but the child who had spoken up was stronger than he looked and hardly budged. Hong'er opened his mouth to say something, but no words came.

A burly youth with short brown hair and tanned skin was looking at him with furrowed brows, saying impatiently, “Hey, kid. He asked you a question, are you deaf or something?”

”Feng Xin!” The prettier one said reproachfully, as Hong'er quietly struggled to recover from his lapse in speech.

Truthfully, he was the opposite of lost.

Hong'er didn't get lost—there was no getting lost here, not if you had spent the last seven years of your life, in this case that being how old he was, walking the dusty paths and exploring every nook and cranny of what little the countryside had to offer in terms of new territory to venture.

He didn't make a habit of lying, but he found himself doing so as the older boy peered down at him worriedly, patiently waiting for his reply, “...Yes.” He felt guilty right away, averting his gaze and pressing his lips together.

He wouldn't do it again, he really wouldn't. But he was curious, and he had never seen these people—they were probably traveling or visiting family, and wouldn't stay long.

The empathetic prince looking one with the golden eyes made a soft noise of sympathy, looking between the two accompanying him. “Xie Lian, this isn't a good idea. We should call your mother and father, and let them handle this.” A boy who hadn't spoken so far put in cautiously, folding his arms over his chest. He had a stern face and long lower eyelashes. He would look nicer if he didn't frown so much.

Hong'er repeated the new name in his head over and over, tracing the sound the syllables made and deciding, after a long few moments, that he definitely had not heard of anyone with it. Xie Lian. He found that he quite liked it.

Xie Lian smiled, “It's okay, Mu Qing. The town isn't very big; we can manage a bit of a walk, right?” He didn't receive a verbal reply, only a pronounced eye roll that made Hong'er's skin itch with annoyance.

”What's your name? How old are you?” Xie Lian asked him, coming to sit next to him on the bench. Hong'er tensed at first, unused to having anyone willingly putting themselves in his space, but quickly relaxed under the youth's warm gaze.

“You heard already, but I'm Xie Lian! I just turned eleven. These are my friends, Mu Qing and Feng Xin. We're all the same age.” He said, gesturing to the pair nearby.

After his introduction, Xie Lian extended his hand with a friendly grin, and Hong'er tentatively reached out to hold it.

“...Hong'er. I'm seven.”

Xie Lian lightly grasped his hand, letting go after a few solid shakes, and Hong'er longed to grab it again. His skin was soft, and he smelled nice. Like flowers.

“Hong'er. That's a cute name!" Xie Lian complimented.

Hong'er didn't have a chance to respond beyond an embarassed but pleased blush as the pre-teen questioned, "Where'd your parents go?" Then suggested cheerily, "Maybe they're somewhere nearby, and we can get you back to them.”

Hong'er swallowed nervously, thinking about the drunken state of his father on the couch. His mother…well, it wasn't like she could come back to fetch him after being put in a grave. So, he told another lie, even though he promised himself that he wouldn't. It tasted foul on his tongue. “Work.”

”Ah, they're at work?” Xie Lian tilted his head, and Hong'er nodded. “It's bad to wander off far, you know!”

This was about the extent of the other boy's capacity to scold him, and he leaned forward to gently take Hong'er's hand again, guiding him to stand.

He hopped off the bench without a word of complaint, angling his chin up to meet the other's gaze as he assured him with a warm smile that had his stomach doing something funny, “Do you know where you live, Hong'er?”

Hong'er hesitated, then timidly dipped his head. One of Xie Lian's ‘friends’, Feng Xin if he was remembering correctly, decided at that moment to say brusquely, “Doesn't this brat have any sense of awareness? Hey, how have you not been kidnapped yet? We're strangers, you know!”

Xie Lian opened his mouth to speak, but Hong'er got there first, the eye that wasn't covered by bandages narrowing as he said, “We aren't. You know my name, and I know yours.”

There was a pause, in which Xie Lian and the other two boys he was beginning to regard with disgust exchanged glances.

Then, Xie Lian started laughing, and didn't stop until Feng Xin clapped him on the back, urging him to get it together.

Still stifling giggles, Xie Lian smiled down at him, “That's...that's true. But he has a point, Hong'er. You should be careful with people you don't know well…sometimes just a name isn't all you need. You can trust us, though!”

Mu Qing muttered something about him trusting them just based on knowing their names was exactly what Xie Lian had said not to do and therefore defeated the purpose of ever mentioning it, but no one paid any mind to him. Especially Hong'er, whose attention was only on Xie Lian.

At some point, as Xie Lian led them through the bustling market, barely restraining himself from checking out everything it had to offer in an effort to keep them on track and get Hong'er home, the boy's shame caught up with him at last. Xie Lian kept a hold on his hand, and he couldn't help but squeeze tighter when the older boy said softly, “Hong'er, it must be very scary getting lost." He waited for the child's dark eye to find him before adding, "Why don't I get you some food? Are you hungry? You'd better eat and become strong! I know my mother would throw a fit over you–”

Xie Lian's unfaltering kindness was too much for him to take, not when he was lying right to his face, and Hong'er made a strangled sound that had the other boy abruptly stopping in his tracks. His eyes shone with concern as he slowly led him to stand under an awning of a shop, asking urgently, “Hong'er! What's wrong, are you okay? Did I accidentally go too fast?”

This was the tipping point, and the feverish feeling of being off balance only doubled as heat built behind his eyes, blurring with a thick wall of glossy tears.

“I'm—I’m sorry,” the boy sobbed out, as Xie Lian anxiously checked him all over, eventually settling on cupping his face.

He brushed away the fat droplets that were rolling down his cheeks as he whispered, “I-I lied…I'm…I'm not lost.” He didn't miss the way Feng Xin exclaimed angrily behind Xie Lian, but through his hiccuping, he didn't dare try to defend himself.

Speaking up only ever made things worse.

Mu Qing was regarding him suspiciously, as though he now worried that they had been the foolish ones for trusting a seven year old child in little more than rags, but Xie Lian's touch remained perfectly gentle. Never judging, only seeking to comprehend and comfort where it was possible.

”Hong'er,” Xie Lian started softly. “It's good that you're telling the truth. But, why didn't you earlier?” His tone was inquisitive, not accusatory in the slightest, and Hong'er found himself relaxing in spite of the situation.

Where usually there was the commanding want to run and hide, to make himself as small as possible, he could feel a new, overlapping desire to bow forward and lean into the promise of warmth, a beacon of safety.

He sniffled, wiping at his own face with his dirty sleeves, and mumbled, “I didn't wanna go home. But I know the way. I've never seen you, so I was wondering where you came from.”

Feng Xin scoffed, while Mu Qing clicked the roof of his mouth with his tongue, but Xie Lian only exhaled sadly in reluctant understanding, “I see. Hong'er, do you have problems with your parents? Is that why you wear bandages?”

Hong'er automatically moved to cover the right side of his face with his hand, though it was already obscured, and Xie Lian gasped in realization of what he'd said, “Wait, please…I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say something insensitive—!”

”Didn't,” Hong'er managed to say, inhaling shortly to calm the unsteady beating of his heart. Pointless. He didn't meet Xie Lian's searching gaze, explaining in a mutter, “My eye is...wrong. It's messed up, so I hide it. Better that way.”

Xie Lian clearly didn't know what to make of that, but at least he was no longer blaming himself for potentially upsetting him. Hong'er was glad that, unlike most people, Xie Lian didn't assure him that it couldn't be that bad, and then flinch at the sight of it. If he was curious, he kept it to himself.

Backtracking to what he had said before, Xie Lian prompted gently, “So, you do know your way back home? In that case, you're probably pretty good at navigating the village if you've been living here a while..." He trailed off consideringly, clearly trying to steer their conversation in a different direction and give Hong'er the upperhand. He smiled when the boy took the bait without hesitation, brushing his damp hands on his pants and meeting his gaze proudly, eager to show his worth.

”All my life. I know where everything is.” Hong'er replied, and blinked when the older boy's eyes sparkled in excitement.

”Then, where do you go to have fun? It's summertime, so I'm sure there's plenty of places to play!” Xie Lian grinned.

Hong'er could tell this was leading up to something, saying very seriously, “It's not fun here. But there's nice trails.”

It took only one ‘please’ from Xie Lian to get Hong'er to show them his favorite spots in the little town, at the boisterous complaints of the other two boys, which he'd started calling Xie Lian's servants in his mind—since, technically, they were.

They worked for him. Xie Lian said so. ("With," Xie Lian attempted to correct awkwardly, but it was already too late– Hong'er's childish feud finally had a solid foundation, and he obviously intended on abusing it as much as he could.)

As they were making their way across a stone bridge, Xie Lian eagerly ran to the edge to look down at the slow moving water below. It was a river, but there was barely any visible current, and he could see all the way to the bottom. Not so deep that he couldn't touch with his feet, but it wasn't shallow enough to be dangerous to jump into from his current height.

Like he had read his mind, Mu Qing sucked in a breath and said warningly as Xie Lian nimbly climbed up onto the ledge, setting any valuables down where they wouldn't get wet,

“What do you think you're doing?! Just going where you please– you'll have to walk back soaked!"

Xie Lian wasn't listening, and Hong'er watched with rapt fascination as the other boy turned to smile brightly at him before facing forward again, backing up a couple steps and then rushing ahead, pushing off the short wall.

For a moment, suspended in the air with his arms stretched out, he looked as though he were flying, and Hong'er raced to the edge just in time to see the boy make a solid splash in the water, eye wide in shock. He was so cool! Not afraid at all!

Mu Qing squawked in alarm, but Feng Xin looked somewhat impressed when Xie Lian quickly resurfaced, treading the water with his legs as he brushed his sopping hair out of his eyes. “It's not too cold! Come on.” He insisted, doing a few short laps in the channel, arms spreading leisurely at his sides like wings. Hong'er didn't hesitate to follow after him, requiring a bit more effort to climb up onto the wall, grunting softly as he rose from his knees and stood on wobbling legs.

Feng Xin called anxiously as he made to leap from the safety of the ledge, “Hey, wait—you’re going to get hurt—!”

Hong'er felt the cool air rush past his face as he jumped, panicking for a split second when he realized just how high up he really was, but his fear all but vanished as soon as he saw Xie Lian's outstretched arms waiting for him.

Xie Lian was bigger than him, but he was still too small to catch him properly, resulting in a less than ideal turnout.

Hong'er more or less pushed him into the water with the force at which he landed, scrabbling to get a better grip on him as his arms and legs flailed, Xie Lian firmly planting his feet into the mushy sediment to keep them both upright.

Xie Lian had provided ample cushioning, though, saving him from smacking too hard into the river.

Hong'er couldn't stop squirming, and Xie Lian spluttered as he lifted him, laughing loudly, “I got you! Sort of!”

Hong'er was breathing hard against him, arms wrapped around the other boy's neck, and he contemplated why he had done this at all—he didn't know how to swim! Now he was clinging to Xie Lian like a life preserver, and soon those golden eyes were on him, inquiring, “Are you okay?”

He forced himself to nod rapidly, but whimpered, “Can’t…can't swim—”

Embarrassment coursed through him as Xie Lian hiked him up on his hip so he wouldn't dip any further into the water, saying easily, “You're brave for jumping in after me like that, not knowing how to swim! Do you want to learn?”

Hong'er heard a bigger splash behind him, lifting his arm to protect his face from some of the resulting spray as Feng Xin waded over to them with raised brows. “What's going on? Xie Lian, why'd you try to catch him like that?”

Xie Lian smiled awkwardly, “I thought it would work better.”

The youngest of the four was currently blushing from his cheeks to his ears at the compliment he'd been given, ignoring the young guard to nod vigorously, “I'd…I'd like to.”

Xie Lian seemed eager to teach him everything he knew.

They started closer to the bank, where Mu Qing had taken up residence and was dipping his feet in the water, content to not go any further. Hong'er was first taught how to do a doggy paddle, though Xie Lian insisted that as he got older, he should learn proper techniques. Since he was so small, these basic skills would suffice, and Hong'er soaked up his advice like a sponge. He was a quick learner, tentatively maneuvering to float on his back without assistance when Xie Lian alerted him after the first few successful aided attempts that he was going to let go for a moment.

“Now, you don't need to make many adjustments. There's a bit of a current here, so just move your arms and legs a little to keep yourself upright if you feel yourself tipping—” Xie Lian explained hurriedly, following Hong'er's movements so he wouldn't drift too far away, always keeping him in his sight.

With the water rippling up over his ears, Hong'er had to focus extra hard to understand what he was saying, but his body thankfully knew what to do almost instinctively.

He breathed in and out steadily, closing his eyes and allowing himself to lay there without fidgeting. He did so for a whole minute, finding the endeavor surprisingly relaxing.

The afternoon sun burned overhead, and he could see the warm light filtering behind his closed lids. He heard Xie Lian's excited clapping as he carefully rolled over, kicking out with his legs so he wouldn't go under the surface. Once he was at no immediate risk of drowning, Xie Lian instructed him on some simple breath holding exercises, but suggested he try them more at home in the bath where he could take his bandages off and wouldn't risk getting them too wet.

They swam in that river for hours, and eventually it was just him and Xie Lian, Feng Xin having retired to the soft grass nearby. Hong'er could see that he had likely fallen asleep, his mouth wide as he snored, and risked a look at the fading light as the sun set behind puffy clouds, heart quietly sinking.

Hong'er's arms and legs ached from exertion, and he must have been looking pretty beat, because Xie Lian gently came over to wrap an arm around his shoulders and say, “Let's get out, okay? I'm getting tired. We can get snacks, too."

He could tell that the other boy was saving him face, but nodded anyway as Xie Lian guided him to the sandy ridge, where the water stopped at their ankles, lapping lazily.

After being in the cool river for so long, he'd adjusted to its temperature and couldn't help but shudder as a breeze swept past, chilling him to the bone in his miserably wet clothes.

They crawled up onto the bank, dripping and shivering, to find that Mu Qing was walking over to them with raised eyebrows.

“I went and talked to your parents,” he started, and Xie Lian appeared anxious for a moment before the boy rolled his eyes and added calmly, “They told us to be back by nine. I have some towels and a change of clothes for you.”

Xie Lian relaxed at his side as Mu Qing passed him a dry towel, even handing one over to Hong'er, who felt his inherent dislike of him lessen marginally as he muttered a soft, “Thanks.” Mu Qing paused to look at him, tilting his chin up haughtily. He gave a stilted nod, then continued on his way.

Xie Lian helped wrap him up in it, working to get as much of the water out of his clothes as he could. All four of them sat on the grass, Xie Lian and his friends exchanging stories as Feng Xin reached into the bag he'd brought and passed around cans of still warm hot chocolate he'd purchased from a vending machine by the rundown convenience store nearby.

Mu Qing provided their late afternoon lunches, approved by Xie Lian's father and thankfully not a result of his mother's experimentation in the kitchen. While there was no dedicated portion provided to Hong'er, Xie Lian seemed more than happy to share his, encouraging him to sample everything.

Xie Lian recoiled at the sweet taste of the cocoa as he brought it to his lips, gagging playfully when he heard Hong'er giggling next to him, lifting his own can.

The younger boy was much more receptive to its flavor, though he too wrinkled his nose at first, just to copy Xie Lian.

”Do you not like it?” Xie Lian asked, and Hong'er lowered the can into his lap, shaking his head.

”I like it. I never get sweet things.”

”Oh, so you aren't used to it! You should come live with me, then. My mother gives us sweets all the time.” Xie Lian laughed, and, while completely irrational, Hong'er wished he could. He thought it might be possible.

But as young as he was, he knew that there was nothing in this world that was meant to last. Nothing was permanent.

His mother had once told him that every banquet must come to an end, and he felt it in his heart, that this night, these feelings of companionship, would not go on forever.

Even so, when Xie Lian brought out a few jars and raced around with Hong'er's hand in his, helping him catch gleaming fireflies within them, trapping them for only a little while before letting them go at his father's beckoning call, Hong'er didn't think this would be a final goodbye.

Hong'er woke up with a start.

He had been nowhere near water before he went to sleep, unless one counted taking a quick shower before lunch at their benefactor's request, but he found that anytime he had that dream, he adjusted to reality with the impression of being uncomfortably wet and shaking from the cold. He could taste the sweet flavor of chocolate on his tongue.

It had been a while since he'd last dreamed at all, actually.

They were always too vivid for his liking, especially ones revolving around that golden eyed boy he had spent a day of his painfully boring summer vacation laughing nonstop with. Examining his surroundings, he noted that despite falling asleep on the couch, he was now tucked into the covers of his bed, burrowed so deeply that he had to fight with the sheets just to pull himself out of the cocoon.

His chill was likely not helped by the fan pointed at him on full blast, working to cool off the apartment that was woefully without air conditioning after a recent power outage. So, maybe he was freezing because he was currently half-drowned in sweat. Lovely.

Hong'er sighed, long and deep, as he rubbed sleep out of his eyes and dragged himself the rest of the way off the mattress, stumbling over to his cracked bedroom door.

Shuffling into the kitchen with a dreary lack of awareness, Hong'er startled slightly at the sound of a smooth, soft voice saying from close by, “Afternoon, Xiao-Hua.”

Yushi Huang was standing at the counter tending to a potted plant in the windowsill, its lush green leaves and vibrant blooms dripping from a recent watering.

She had such a peaceful, unassuming presence that he tended to forget she was in the room with him unless he was staring directly at her, but he found that it was difficult to remove his eyes from her once he looked. She was quite young; in her early thirties, but in the gentle, clear pools of her eyes there was a wisdom far beyond her years.

Her hair, long, dark and flowing freely down her back, was somewhat more unkempt than unusual– the heat was getting to her as well, whether she admitted it or not.

She'd traded in her usual flowing, patterned skirts fit for a cool fall for baggy shorts that had seen better days, the pockets filled with holes and the fabric stained by dirt. And, rather than a comfortable sweatshirt or jacket, she donned a large t-shirt tied off on the side with a rubber band to keep it (mostly) out of the way while she worked.

He was still not entirely sure how he had gotten lucky enough to find himself in an arrangement where he hadn't even been placed in the system before someone turned up, willing to take him in. According to Yushi Huang, she had been very close to his mother and was legally his government recognized godparent. He recalled being extremely suspicious at first, insisting she give him proof, and Yushi Huang had calmly reached into a bag on her shoulder, handing him a folder of official documents telling him everything he wished to know and more.

Not long after his father's death, she'd received a call and made good on her word, traveling to his old town in search of him. There she found only his disgruntled stepmother and her two sons, telling her he'd run off and sold the house, using part of the funds to escape to the next city over. He had fidgeted where he sat in front of her at a booth of some restaurant he couldn't remember the name of now, unfamiliar with how guilt made his stomach churn uneasily—this woman had spent a fair amount of time just working to track him down, with very little information on his whereabouts. Yushi Huang was a good person.

She was someone he respected. More than most, anyways.

It took him a moment to collect his thoughts as he moved over, aiming for the upper row of cupboards and reaching up to grab a box of cereal at random.

“Afternoon? How long have I been asleep?” he murmured, the octave of his voice slightly lower than usual, groggy and tired. It was annoyingly hot for early October, and he had never done very well in the heat, so he'd been sleeping in much smaller increments over the past week.

Yushi Huang placed a hand on his arm, shaking her head at him. “I made you something earlier, it's in the fridge. Why don't you eat that first?” She suggested, and Hong'er dipped his head quietly in thanks. Yushi Huang smiled slightly.

He still wasn't used to homemade meals, not since his mother had passed away. The first night Yushi Huang cooked, he had cried silently into his bowl, savoring the taste despite the intermingling saltiness of his tears.

It was not in his nature to cry, but under the right circumstances, he found it difficult to stop until the ducts were thoroughly dried out. He would never admit it, but he had been scared. For so much of his life, he was forced to be independent. Hong'er was used to taking care of himself, getting where he needed to be without the help of an adult.

They had proved themselves to be untrustworthy and pointless to rely on, so after the third or fourth failure, he gave up on them altogether. But as he hopped off the final bus bringing him to the heart of the city, a fourteen year old Hong'er clutched the straps of his single backpack of belongings and felt the pressure of being young and helpless in a place he had never stepped foot in before.

It sapped his strength away.

A part of him had prayed, maybe only subconsciously, that someone would come to save him this time. He hadn't realized how terribly he had longed for it until Yushi Huang drew him into a slow hug after their first meal together, holding loosely so he had room to escape, and every fear and misgiving at his situation had poured out at once as he sobbed anew, tightly wrapping his arms around her waist.

She had not let him go until he chose to pull away, stroking messy strands of hair out of his face. There were no empty words, no verbal reassurances, no placating comforts spoken into the silence. Only the promise of safety in the protective squeeze of her hands at his back, the fierce devotion beaming in her eyes, telling him she was there to stay, no matter how they may disagree in the future.

A few weeks into living together, Hong'er started to thaw around her, expecting certain behaviors and actions rather than walking on eggshells, waiting for yet another unpredictable grown-up to show their true colors.

It had been close to five months now since they'd found a decent apartment and they'd already filled it to the brim.

As he dug around in the fridge, pulling free a plate covered in a plastic sheet, Yushi Huang replied to his prior question,

“Not too long. A few hours.”

“So, it's still Sunday.” He remarked, peeling off the Saran wrap and carefully placing the dish in the microwave to be warmed up. Yushi Huang offered a small nod in reply.

While he had time to waste, he went over to the two-seater dinette where he'd laid his school bag and pulled free a miniature laptop. Plopping into the chair closest to the wall, Hong'er lifted the lid and entered his password when it prompted him to. It resumed the row of tabs he had been using before shutting it down, various files sent over by teachers that he'd been given editor's access to in order to fill in his answers. He wished everything was this simple.

“Is it going well?” Yushi Huang murmured, removing his plate when the microwave beeped. She pulled open a drawer and picked out a fork for him, stabbing it into a steaming piece of pork, and came to set it next to him.

“Thank you," Hong'er idly fiddled with the handle of the fork for a moment, leaving the food to cool off for a while.

Using the mouse pad to scroll down to the place he'd left off, he muttered, “It's going better now that I don't have to write on paper.” Feeling a lingering discomfort in the way Yushi Huang peered back at him quietly, saying nothing at first, Hong'er bit at the inside of his cheek.

He could sense a lecture coming.

“Are they still having you take more advanced courses?” Yushi Huang noiselessly pulled the second chair back, sliding gracefully into it. Hong'er nodded, and loathed the embarrassed flush crawling up his neck as he met her eyes, finding affection and pride gleaming in their warm depths.

“But they haven't actually moved me up. As in, I'm still with the same trash as before. Doing twelfth grade work. I don't see why they can't just pull me and let me attend the right classes.” Hong'er abandoned the blinding white screen of the computer for a moment to shovel a few pieces of red potato into his mouth, knowing he would forget to eat altogether if he didn't actively make an effort to switch between tasks. He heard Yushi Huang hum thoughtfully.

After his very first week at that hellscape of a school, he had asked Yushi Huang to consider letting him work from home, or start an online program. Quite a hermit herself, Yushi Huang had not been directly opposed and understood his inherent misgivings regarding being surrounded by sweaty, pubescent, dimwitted freshmen whose only life's purpose seemed to be disrupting the small portion of the class there to actually get work done.

But she had insisted that he stick public school out for at least this year, and he had reluctantly agreed when his arguments fell on deaf ears. Neither being one to go back on their word, Hong'er settled for complaining to her every day after walking home, and found it strangely therapeutic.

Yushi Huang let him without any complaints, an avid listener, interjecting with the occasional question to show she was sincerely taking what he said into account.

“It's not too late for that just yet. But, have you considered that it might be in your best interests to be around students closer in age to you?” Yushi Huang smiled slightly at the incredulous look Hong'er gave her.

“I highly doubt it. Unfortunately, it's not just that,” Hong'er sighed, glancing back at the dimming screen.

“I don't learn anything from this. Half of this material I was already reading four years ago. I can comprehend it just fine, yes, but it's still boring.” He complained.

When Yushi Huang continued to smile silently, he said dejectedly as he scrolled a bit farther down, “Listen to this; ‘Who created the lightbulb?’”

The woman snorted softly, “Well, do you know?”

Hong'er deadpanned, “Maybe it's a trick question? Most people would probably just answer with Thomas Edison, but he wasn't the only one in the inventor's room. There was also Alessandro Volta, Humphrey Davey and Joseph Swan.”

The youth shortly rolled his eyes, “But it looks like even the teacher isn't looking for the correct answer; right underneath that, it just says ‘and when did he die?’"

Prodding angrily at his braised pork, Hong'er grumbled, “This is useless information. Why would I even care when some old fart kicked the bucket?”

Yushi Huang deprived him of a response for a few moments, but when she did speak, it was with some trepidation, “Hong'er, maybe you would get more out of your lessons just by learning to write your answers.”

He immediately stopped playing with his food, content to burn a hole into the plate with his eyes alone.

Yushi Huang was watching him expectantly, and he refused to give her the satisfaction of telling her that she was right—at least via his own mouth admitting to it.

Abandoning his assignment in favor of eating the rest of his dinner in silence, Yushi Huang eventually got up from her chair and gently squeezed his shoulder as she passed. “I suggest you take a shower soon. Cool your head– I can nearly see smoke coming from the top of it."

Hong'er knew that this was her way of telling him he needed one, and he made quick work of it after cleaning his plate off in the sink. While his hair was still damp, he pulled it back in a short ponytail and peered quietly back at himself in the foggy mirror, wiping some of the steam away with the underside of his palm. Beads of condensation slid down the glass, revealing his own slim face staring back at him, nothing but harsh, sharp angles. He'd had a growth spurt.

He tended to avoid his reflection, even now that he had been introduced to the luxury of colored contacts, and had no real reason to hide his other eye. At least at home, he had taken to leaving them out. Yushi Huang was the only person in the last decade to find his deformity beautiful, and though she didn't pressure him to reveal it, he had felt inexplicably comfortable enough to do so.

In payment for her kindness, which had been delivered from the kindness of her own heart with no expectations of a reward, she deserved to know what sort of problem she was dealing with, despite her insistence that it was nothing at all to bring himself down over.

Yushi Huang had kindly pointed out that wearing bandages every day to school was more likely to draw unwanted suspicion or make him stand out more, which was sort of the exact opposite of what he was going for.

The contacts were uncomfortable, and he didn't explicitly need corrective lenses, but they were the most favorable option he had at the moment. It was that or he went into a building swamped with acne ridden, stinking high schoolers wearing an eye patch. Hah. Yeah, right. He'd be called Jack Sparrow for the next four years if he ended up staying.

Hong'er had thick skin, but the entire point of blending in was exactly that—he was going there to advance his education, not draw unnecessary negative attention to himself that would make that goal harder to achieve.

After tidying up the mess he'd made of the bathroom, folding his clothes and putting the dirty ones in his laundry, he reentered the living room to find Yushi Huang speaking to a boy with long black hair going on and on about an aquarium exhibit he was planning to attend in a couple weeks. By the sound of things, his hope of going by himself without a chaperone wasn't looking too promising.

“I have extra tickets, and my sister won't go with me." He was making quite a fuss, rocking up on the balls of his feet as he tightly squeezed a few slips of thick paper in his hand. It would be better to get out of the way, before that brat got any bright ideas. Hong'er slowed down as he neared the end of the hallway, but one creaking stair underfoot redirected the boy's sharp yellow eyes over to him, which narrowed in on him like a hawk.

Damn it.

The twelve year old stalked over to him, aggressively shoving one of the tickets into his hand and insisting bluntly, “You're coming with me.” As an afterthought, he said through gritted teeth, “Please, Hua-gege.”

Hong'er leaned in close to the boy's face to sneer, grin widening when he pulled back slightly, “I am not. Do you think calling me gege is going to do you any favors, didi?”

He Xuan's false brotherly act disappeared in an instant as he glared up at him. “You suck. I hope you die."

Holding himself back from swearing at the idiot only with the knowledge of who stood in the room with them, Hong'er looked pleadingly back at Yushi Huang, who was watching in undisguised amusement. "Let's not wish death on anyone so close to bedtime." She advised, folding her arms over her chest. Her eyes swiveled over to Hong'er again.

“Xiao-Hua, don't you think it would be a fun thing to do? You're always exploring the city, but He Xuan has just recently moved here. He doesn't know his way around as well as you do.” She reasoned gently.

One boy went very pale in the face at this outrageous betrayal, while the latter glowed with self-righteous glee. He Xuan grinned like the Grinch who stole Christmas, turning his devilish smile upon a flabbergasted Hong'er. He stuck his tongue out at him, jeering, “Yeah, you can be my guide!”

“And you can count yourself lucky if I don't feed you to the sharks.” Hong'er grumbled, looking down at the ticket displaying the opening dates for the exhibit. It went through October 20th to the 27th, and He Xuan had a week pass, so he'd probably be dragging him there every damn day.

If he could find a spot that wasn't too crowded with people, he might be able to make use of the building and study in relative peace. He Xuan would be fine going off on his own; it wasn't like anyone would want to kidnap him.

Even if they did, he'd talk their ears off about crabs or something and be abandoned somewhere for him to find.

With his fate decided, the conversation gradually shifted from the aquarium and its festivities to the video game room he'd been thinking about turning into an art studio. He didn't play them nearly as much as He Xuan, and had promised to give the other boy whatever he had when he flipped the space and turned it inside out. Within an hour of his arrival He Xuan had coaxed him into trying a new one he'd bought recently, and the pair navigated their way through the levels until they fell asleep in their chairs.

Yushi Huang carried both boys (separately, as they had both grown a couple inches individually over the last few months) to Hong'er's room, leaving them to rest.

In the morning she pushed open the door to find He Xuan cuddled up to Hong'er's side, forced to locate a source of warmth when the elder hogged all the covers to himself.

Covering her mouth with her hand to stifle a laugh, Yushi Huang stepped over to the bed and spoke softly,

“Xiao-Hua, He Shui, it's morning.”

Hong'er was a very light sleeper, cracking his eyes open to squint at her through the darkness. He'd forgotten to take his contacts out. His arm was draped along He Xuan's back, and as he registered what an awkward position he was in, he extricated himself from the other as though burned.

Mercilessly kneeing He Xuan in the stomach, Hong'er hissed, “Get off me, you fish-brained freak—”

He Xuan groaned, snapping at him without even opening his eyes, tugging the comforter over his head, “You're the one stealing all the blankets, I was cold!”

“The air conditioning must be back.” Hong'er mused, as He Xuan spluttered at him in disbelief. They fought the entire way out the door, pushing and shoving, insults flying, but Yushi Huang soon heard both of them giggling over something when the bathroom door closed.

She quietly shook her head, smiling to herself as she went to prepare breakfast, setting extra aside for He Xuan.

For his size, he really could put meals away without trouble.

He Xuan and Hong'er were both dressed in their uniforms, packed up and ready to go by the time they walked side by side into the living area, Yushi Huang calling out as she made her way for the door that would lead her to Hong'er's library in progress, “Don't forget to eat something.”

He Xuan didn't need to be asked twice.

He bolted over to the dining table, not even stopping to breathe as he inhaled what had been put on his dish. He had already started shoving things in his mouth by the time Hong'er had calmly pulled out a chair and arranged a plate.

Hong'er bit at a piece of bacon, watching him with a mixture of disdain and amazement. He wondered how he could eat so quickly and not choke. It would be kind of funny if he did.

As he polished off his bowl of congee, He Xuan pointed to the rest of what he hadn't touched, “You gonna eat that?”

Shaking his head, Hong'er stared at him in silence as the younger boy dragged over his leftovers. Yushi Huang returned from her visit to the third floor with a couple books in hand to find them placing their plates in the sink.

“Xiao-Hua, you ate more than usual today.” She smiled, and he didn't have the heart to tell her the real reason. It was very tempting, seeing how He Xuan swallowed nervously in fear of his gluttony being realized, his endless supply of Hong'er's unwanted food at risk of drying up.

Leaning against the counter, she said approvingly, “It's good for you at this age. If you don't eat properly, you won't grow.”

Now it was Hong'er going very still, eyeing Yushi Huang warily. He ignored He Xuan, who was trying and failing (probably on purpose) to hide a snicker, “...I'm growing fine. I'm two inches taller than I was when you met me.”

Yushi Huang was careful not to point out that Hong'er had been incredibly malnourished and frail for a fourteen year old. Any steps taken to address the neglect he'd faced in his old home were good ones, yes, but at the moment she was only concerned with getting him to a healthy weight and making sure no permanent damage had been done.

“You are,” she relented, then raised her eyebrows at him in playful challenge, “But you're still shorter than me, so don't get ahead of yourself. You have a ways to go.”

Hong'er muttered something under his breath about her being above average height, not just for a woman, but a man, and that it would be a blessing from the gods if he didn't end up being half a head shorter than her when he reached adulthood. Yushi Huang handed him his bag as he moved forward to hug her briefly, tolerating the short press of her lips to his forehead in a parting kiss. He Xuan was quickly on his heels and pushing him towards the door.

Hong'er ensured that the younger boy got to the middle school safely, which was thankfully directly across from the highschool. He sent him off with a certain finger that He Xuan was happy to return. Wanting to avoid early morning traffic, Hong'er took a lesser known detour through the courtyard to reach the front gates of the building.

He had barely gotten his personal belongings into his locker when his homeroom teacher stopped him at the doorway, telling him he was wanted in the office. While he had been something of a trouble magnet at his old school, he didn't purposely go looking for it, and so far he had kept his head down to avoid exactly these sorts of summons. So why…?

With an uneasy feeling in his stomach, Hong'er made his way down the hall towards the front of the building again, quietly pushing open the mostly glass door to the dean's room. Announcing himself by clearing his throat, Hong'er ventured forward into the space without a hurry, “Uh, Mrs. Li said that you wanted to see me?” he explained, when a timid looking shell of a man glanced over at his entry.

“Hong'er, good morning!” The principal's cheery voice called from a nearby desk, as he stood up from his chair. He had encountered Zhong Chen only a couple times since being accepted into this academy, and his impression of him was somewhat mixed. He cowered like a sheep and didn't make himself heard often, but when it came to business he got quickly down to the point, which Hong'er appreciated.

Indeed, Mr. Zhong promptly came to stand in front of him, passing over a thin, tan folder with his name on it. “Your grades have been a discussion among our faculty since your admission into this school,” he began, inclining his head in encouragement as Hong'er opened up the folder.

Inside was a list of references to past assignments and even ones he was working on now, as well as what looked like a…new schedule. Wait, was it actually–?

Hong'er's head snapped up, where he found Mr. Zhong smiling kindly. “You put in a request recently in hopes that you would be moved up to the grade level of your given coursework, which has been approved. But, that isn't the only reason I've called this to your attention.”

He reached forward, pulling free a paper of recommendations behind the new allotted times for his classes, “Most of us seem to think you'd be happier getting a jump on your future beyond highschool, so I've taken the liberty of adding a couple college courses aligned with your interests. If you find that they are too difficult, don't hesitate to make an appointment with me, and we can either drop them for the time being or explore other options.”

Hong'er swallowed quietly, lowering his eyes back to the updated schedule. His chest felt tight and airy all at once, filling with butterflies of the nervous and excited kind. In the end, as Mr. Zhong waited for a response, all he managed to do was bow deeper than he could recall ever doing in the past, murmuring, “Thank you for the opportunity, sir.”

Mr. Zhong smiled warmly. “Good luck.”

He walked to his new classroom with the sensation of traveling on clouds, but he probably should have expected the twenty sets of eyes that all fell upon him at the same time as he made his way inside.

If the knowledge he had of his own age group applied in any way here, he didn't think a horde of bored seventeen and eighteen year olds just waiting to graduate would be so keenly aware of his intruding presence unless they had been debriefed of his imminent arrival.

Sure enough, he found his new professor standing to greet him and call him to the front of the room, where he stood stiffly, wondering what kind of humiliation trial he was being sentenced to as she formally introduced him and overdid it a little with the compliments on his hard work.

So much for not making a name for himself.

More debilitating than standing on legs he felt might give out beneath him at any moment was the glimpse of gold in the second row, three seats in, dimmed only slightly by the two ugly faces on either side of it. Hong'er's breath felt like it had been punched from his chest as he did a double take, finding that set of warm, honey colored eyes staring back in barely restrained curiosity. He had seen them in his dreams, had drawn them on lined notebook paper and properly in a sketchbook when he had the funds for better supplies.

He wouldn't mistake them, mistake him.

It was unclear whether Xie Lian was intrigued simply by the existence of him in that classroom, three years younger than any of them there, or if he had also recognized him, at least by his name. As he moved to take the first and only empty seat in the last row, Hong'er tried and failed to tame his racing heart. He couldn't believe it.

He'd been here since mid September and they hadn't bumped into each other once?

Of course they hadn't! Xie Lian was going to graduate this year– they didn't even walk the same halls until now.

More than anything, he just wasn't able to wrap his head around the fact that he was here, at this school.

It was a decently funded academy, not as private as a boarding school or as expensive, but a well-rounded choice overall. The first time he had encountered Xie Lian, it hadn't been a difficult jump to make that he came from wealth—he even had those two servants with him still.

So, why would his parents have settled for this?

Bankruptcy? Punishment? He couldn't imagine Xie Lian getting into trouble for much of anything, though.

Maybe Xie Lian had personally convinced them to send him to a normal school. He had only known him for a day, and yet he felt that was in character for him to do.

Hong'er considered himself lucky to get any work done in that period of ninety minutes, absentmindedly taking notes and ignoring the hushed whispers, catching his name tossed around like a hot stone during quiet periods.

It was only natural that people talked. He had expected it, and he didn't care what anyone thought of him—not until he saw Xie Lian sitting in that chair like a flare of destiny.

He forced himself not to look back as he made a beeline for the door at the sound of the bell, rushing into the fray.

Being shorter than his peers was as much of a blessing as it was a curse; if he was quick enough, which he usually was, he could slip in between the gaps of the older boys and girls without much trouble. A couple times throughout the day he had been dangerously close to getting trampled, but he made it to lunch relatively unscathed.

He sat beneath an old willow tree in the courtyard, relishing the shade it provided. Distractedly nibbling at the packed meal Yushi Huang had put together for him, Hong'er listened in silence to the sound of the trickling fountain nearby. It was a good spot, one that thankfully didn't need to change with the new route he walked between classes.

The one downside to it was that the noise of the water muted others around it, and he didn't hear the quiet footsteps coming towards him through the grass until someone called softly, “Brave Hong'er?”

Hong'er flinched, the orange he'd been peeling slipping out of his hand and rolling pathetically away.

He blinked rapidly, lifting his head to look back at the newcomer, who had a guilty expression on his face as he crouched to retrieve the fallen piece of fruit. “Ah, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to startle you.” Xie Lian apologized earnestly, wiping pieces of foliage and dirt off the orange in a useless attempt at cleaning and making it fit for consumption.

“I don't suppose this is any good now…” he sighed softly, and Hong'er anxiously shook his head, putting his hands up.

“It's alright, I'm not that hungry anyways.” Hong'er assured.

This did not seem to put Xie Lian at ease—actually, he looked even more worried than he had a moment ago, and Hong'er's breath stalled when the older boy started digging around in his own bag. He withdrew a brown can with a cartoonish design, passing it to him with a hopeful smile.

Hot chocolate.

He hadn't forgotten that Xie Lian wasn't fond of overly sweet things, so he couldn't have bought it for himself, unless his tastes had changed after all?

“Do you mind if I sit with you?” Xie Lian asked, shuffling his weight between his feet nervously, as Hong'er tentatively accepted the offering and nodded, robbed for words. Xie Lian beamed, the corners of his eyes softening as he came to fill the empty space beside him.

It was quiet for a moment as Xie Lian breathed in the fresh, crisp air, observing the fountain that never ceased to lull him into a stupor. Then, Hong'er cautiously said, “Before, you called me…brave Hong'er. Why?”

Xie Lian turned to face him, studying him carefully. Hong'er could scarcely breathe beneath the intensity of his gaze.

“Because you are. Aren't you? The brave Hong'er, who jumped into the river when he couldn't swim?”

Hong'er inhaled a sharp breath, his cheeks heating up.

Oh, god, Xie Lian did remember—at first, he thought that would be the desirable outcome of their reunion, but that also meant he remembered everything.

Seeing how red he had gotten, Xie Lian laughed, not unkindly, “There’s no need to be embarrassed! After that day, I wanted to make sure I didn't forget you, so I started calling you Brave Hong'er. I haven't met anyone else with your name, so when I saw you, I was pretty sure…but you've changed a lot, and it took me some time to put two and two together.”

Fighting down the warmth tingling through his body, Hong'er busied himself with pulling the cap back on the still hot drink and took a couple short sips from it. Xie Lian crossed his legs over each other, leaning forward to prop his chin up against the heart of his palm.

“I remember you wearing bandages, so it was difficult to recognize you without them. You said something about your eye at that time, but looking at you now…”

Hong'er swallowed as the older boy fixed him with that stare once again, seeming to pick apart every detail.

“Aren't you quite handsome?” Xie Lian remarked calmly.

If Hong'er had had any chance of restoring his colorless complexion to what it once was, he knew the likelihood of that was now so far out of reach that he couldn't even see it in his short list of possibilities.

He'd be steaming from the top of his head if that were a thing humans could do, but Xie Lian seemed to realize his error soon enough as he amended quickly, “I just mean, you're very…normal? The way you talked it up, I was expecting something much more…obvious!”

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have phrased it that way.” Xie Lian sighed, and Hong'er eventually came to himself enough to joke lightly,

“Did gege think I was hiding fur or scales under that bandage?” Hong'er smiled, watching the way Xie Lian's eyes widened slightly at the familiar address, then softened in fondness.

He chuckled, leaning back against the rough bark of the tree. “Maybe. Something like that. I was eleven, after all.”

Hong'er nodded in understanding, lowering his eyes as he unwrapped a sandwich. “I'm wearing a colored contact. My right eye is a different color than the left. It's only ever caused issues for me, so I started hiding it.” He explained, and Xie Lian gasped in awe when it was clear that he wasn't going to say anything more on the subject.

“Wow! So you have heterochromia? I've heard of that—we even learned about it in biology when we were studying genes. It's pretty common in cats.” Xie Lian said, catching Hong'er off guard. He had never gotten that sort of comparison before, nor such an enthusiastic reaction.

“Cats?” Hong'er murmured. Well, cats were cute enough, but they were also just that—cute. They didn't have to worry about social norms, or people staring at them wherever they went just because their eyes didn't match.

“Other animals as well. It's rarer in humans, but it does happen! You're proof of that small statistic.” Xie Lian replied, and when Hong'er smiled slightly, he went on to say with a raised brow, “Speaking of unlikely statistics, you're super smart, too. It's really impressive. Have you always been that way?”

Hong'er shied away at the praise in his tone, folding his hands around the warmth of the hot chocolate and peering into the dark can. “I guess so. My mother was interested in foreign cultures and traveling, so she brought back all sorts of things. A lot of books. There was never much to do around town, so I read often. I was homeschooled for the most part, and that made my curriculum pretty flexible. Honestly…” he snickered quietly, “Even the history lessons in twelfth grade are a bit—”

“Pointless?” Xie Lian finished. He grinned, seeing Hong'er meeting his eyes curiously, waiting for him to elaborate.

"Last night I had a question on my homework that asked me who made the lightbulb.”

At this, Hong'er let out a bark of laughter, dissolving into giggles. Xie Lian was quick to join him, adding with a sigh, “I overcomplicated it by listing the actual group of people responsible for it, but underneath—”

“It just said, ‘and how did he die?’” Hong'er was gasping for breath as he held onto his aching stomach, hysterical over the knowledge that he wasn't the only one who had attempted to make it a problem worthy of their grade level, just to be let down. Xie Lian smiled from ear to ear, settling back against the tree as Hong'er wiped at his damp eyes.

“Aside from history, how are your other lessons?” Xie Lian asked. Hong'er hummed, pulling forward the bag where he stored his various folders and his laptop. He had begrudgingly taken Yushi Huang's advice, at least partly, and filled out his personal notes on paper.

He could read his own writing, but he had been told in less harsh words by teachers that his script was abhorrent.

Hong'er could feel a prickle of shame as he revealed his thoroughly abused notebook as well as the packet of advanced coursework he was doing for a college class.

“There’s something here I'm not too sure about.” he admitted, holding his breath when Xie Lian leaned a bit closer to take a look at the question he gestured to with his pencil. Xie Lian blinked slowly, a half-smile curving his mouth as he scratched lightly at the side of his jaw.

“Hong'er…” he began, and at first, he thought Xie Lian was going to comment on his atrocious handwriting, but instead the other said with a short laugh, “I'm not familiar with this material. I take a couple college courses myself, but not this one. Maybe you could ask Mu Qing? You remember him, right? He's in this class, so he'd be able to help you better.”

Hong'er shut the notebook with a snap, eyes widening. “Oh, right—sorry. I didn't think of that.” He had shown Xie Lian for nothing!

Xie Lian softly cleared his throat, and Hong'er could almost guess word for word what he was going to say, right up until the point he suggested helping him learn to write with a little more precision, if he was willing to be tutored.

Hong'er hadn't known what to say at first, staring at him blankly with a slack jaw. He'd been confused, trying to come up with a reason why Xie Lian would want to waste time on what was clearly a lost cause, but the other boy had initially taken it as him offending him, starting to apologize when the silence had gone on for an uncomfortable fifteen something seconds.

It was then that Hong'er agreed with perhaps too much enthusiasm, afraid he might rescind his offer.

Thankfully Xie Lian took it in stride, and as their free period came to an end, he advised Hong'er to meet him on the track about an hour and a half after school let out.

Hong'er followed Xie Lian back into the building, listening to him talk happily as they went and finally split to go for different doors in the same corridor.

He had a couple classes with him, but it was rare to have a chance to really speak with him. Hong'er didn't mind.

Just being in the same room with him, breathing the same air, he didn't think he would ever be dissatisfied at the end of the day as long as he had that.

Hong'er decided to read up more on the subject matter he had been struggling with earlier, settling down with a promising book in a comfortable armchair by a wide window. He chose this spot specifically for its view, which allowed him to gaze out upon the track.

The figures were too distant to make out from this far away, but he still looked hard for one in particular.

When it seemed like an appropriate time to start his trek to the field and watch for a while on the bleachers, Hong'er packed the dusty volume he'd checked out into his bag and slung it over his shoulder. He went down a few flights of stairs to the ground level, passing only a couple staff members and students sprinkling the halls.

It was already almost a quarter past four, which left him with another fifteen minutes to observe the group of runners (not at all fixating on number five) making their way steadily across the track.

Xie Lian finished his lap, wiping sweat from his brow and slowing down his pace to stop by the dedicated spot where their personal belongings were.

He crouched to take a quick drink out of his water bottle, setting it down on a metal bench. Feng Xin came to stand next to him, saying something under his breath to him.

Hong'er thought he saw the man's eyes briefly glance in his direction before he looked back at Xie Lian, and then the golden eyed youth peered over his shoulder. He flashed him a brilliant smile that had him going starry-eyed from his spot on the bleachers, and Xie Lian rushed over to the fence to wave, “Hong'er! Why don't you come down here?”

Hong'er felt like he had swallowed something with a very strong desire to remain alive, kicking ferociously against his ribcage as he tentatively set his things off to the side and shakily went to meet Xie Lian at the gate.

Surprisingly, it was Mu Qing who spoke first as he joined the trio, “Is it true that you like to run?”

Coming face to face with the man after seven years revealed that not much about him had changed at all. His stormy grey eyes still radiated contempt as he peered down the pointed tip of his nose at him, the crease between his thin, arched brows more pronounced than ever.

Feng Xin, who stood at Mu Qing's other side, had a strange look on his face whenever he was left alone to watch the cold beauty for too long, perhaps not realizing the obvious manner in which his sun kissed skin blushed at the sight of sweat rolling down his companion's neck.

Hong'er cringed internally. Could he be any more apparent without actually saying outright what he wanted?

“He asked you a question, kid.” Feng Xin sighed impatiently, and Hong'er suppressed a shudder at the deja vu that particular phrasing gave him. Before he could reply, the muscled youth pointed at him and grunted, “I’ve seen you out here sometimes, running.”

If he had any sense of shame in doing so, he probably would have worried that he had been caught doing something he shouldn't, but it was public knowledge that the track was for anyone to use.

Hong'er lifted his chin slightly. “Yeah. Why?”

Xie Lian's small smile widened, his eyes gleaming. “Because we're scouting! Tryouts haven't produced what we were hoping for this year. We have a few members for every major position who specialize in a certain role, though we all do a bit of everything. But aside from me and Mu Qing, who's our best sprinter, we don't have anyone else in our category.” He explained.

Hong'er looked between Xie Lian and his two attendants, feeling somewhat thrown off balance. Track and field had been one of the only clubs he'd hoped to join at the beginning of the year, but he had to be fifteen to try out, so he'd put it to the back of his mind and applied to art instead.

Especially after today—he wasn't just doing advanced coursework, but had also moved up in terms of rank. If all went according to plan, he would be graduating this year.

Bewildered, he started slowly, “But I'm not of age to be on the team.”

“That's what I told him,” Feng Xin said, gesturing to Xie Lian, whose smile didn't falter. “But after you joined our class this morning, he went to talk to the principal to see if he would be willing to make an exception since you won't have another chance. He said you seemed interested in it.”

Xie Lian beamed, appearing both anxious for his decision and worried that he might have overstepped, but also optimistic. Hong'er wasn't sure how he could have possibly turned him down, even if he didn't want this anymore.

He did. He really did.

“Ah! I forgot to say, you don't have to be a sprinter if you join! We have enough people to pick up the slack if it doesn't work out a certain way. You also don't need to make a decision right away.” Xie Lian assured him, and in spite of his nerves, Hong'er found himself smiling.

“I want to.”

Once the track had all but cleared out except for them, Xie Lian helped him through a few warm-ups, which he emphasized were always necessary to avoid unwanted injuries during practices, or worse, events.

Mu Qing had been running drills the last hour, trying to beat his fastest time, and decided to keep to the sidelines to monitor them. Feng Xin was sweating bullets after his row with the javelin and long jumps, laying flat on the bleachers behind them with his water bottle pressed to his forehead.

This left him and Xie Lian in the lanes, prepping for a short assessment of his skills. Mu Qing reset the timer, a whistle pressed between his lips.

Xie Lian smiled at him from where he had gotten into position, Hong'er mimicking his stance to the best of his ability. “Do you want a head start?” His words sounded genuine, but there was an underlying tease there, and he felt he'd actually rather be caught dead than accept any unnecessary help.

“Do you, gege?” he fired back without thinking, feeling a smile tug at his mouth. Xie Lian's expression was briefly stolen over by surprise.

Then, he broke out into laughter, and Mu Qing called irritably, “Stop playing around! You have five seconds!”

To demonstrate, Mu Qing held up a hand, beginning to lower a finger for every moment that passed, and the two runners quickly abandoned their little back and forth. At the sound of Mu Qing's whistle blowing, Hong'er pushed off hard against the solid ground, his heart lurching with exhilaration.

He had always loved to run.

Growing up in the country, in a little town that wasn't even on most maps until fifty years ago, you relied on your legs to get you somewhere. Unless you had traveled to the city, or gathered enough money to buy a car, usually by inheriting it after generations had built it up, you walked where you needed to.

Hong'er was no exception, but his skill here had more to do with how far he could run, not how fast. Xie Lian had mentioned something about endurance, and that while he wasn't as light on his feet as Mu Qing, he could hold his own in a fit of strength, outlasting most.

Until this moment, Hong'er had never really paid much attention to just how quick he could go from point a to point b—mainly because whenever he ran without relent, it was in effort to get away from something, or someone chasing him down. But as his legs propelled him further, faster, the wind rushing through his hair at such a speed it didn't even have the chance to settle on his neck, he realized just how close the finish line was getting—

Without thinking, he peered over his shoulder to see Xie Lian a couple paces behind, eyes wide, and instinctively began to slow down. “Hong'er!” The older boy yelled, as he finally caught up to the youth. They heard Mu Qing's whistle blow as they fell directly into step beside each other at the last moment, crossing a chalked line courtesy of Feng Xin.

Hong'er skidded to a stop, breathless.

He could feel his lungs burning, the heat crawling up into his throat as he bent slightly at the back, gripping onto his padded knees. Xie Lian was in a similar state, not used to sprints so much as he was jogging laps around the track, but recovered quicker than Hong'er, who was unaccustomed to everything having to do with purposely testing his limits and pushing his body.

Xie Lian slowly walked over to him, gently touching his shoulder to get his attention as he passed him a water.

Hong'er received it gratefully, unscrewing the cap as the other boy encouraged him to take a seat on the ground. He chugged half of its contents in one go, legs splayed out in front of him, and reluctantly set the bottle down when he felt Xie Lian's eyes on him.

He looked like he was holding something back, and after warring with himself, couldn't help but blurt out, “Hong'er—you’re fast!”

Hong'er looked up at him, watching Xie Lian's stunned expression flood with amazement as he sat next to him. He felt hot everywhere the sun touched him, everywhere Xie Lian looked at him—like he was some priceless, one of a kind gem. His cheeks seared, and though he wanted to say something in reply, he didn't trust the cracked voice he could feel building in his throat.

Xie Lian allowed him the mercy of resting his meridians for a couple minutes, then pushed himself to stand, extending a hand to Hong'er when he saw that the younger was moving to follow. He gladly accepted, his fingertips aching at the loss as the other boy let go of him once he was steady on his own feet.

He wasn't expecting to see Xie Lian peering back at him with an uncharacteristically stern expression, as though he'd just remembered or saw something unpleasant.

Hong'er's heart throbbed in his chest, and the apologies were already building at the edge of his tongue.

Before he could try to get a single coherent one out in the stifling air between them, which he came to understand was his own feverish breath, Xie Lian was saying quietly, “At the end…you slowed down.”

Hong'er stilled in front of him, unsure of what to say.

Xie Lian frowned slightly. “Were you tired?”

No, he hadn't been tired, exactly. It wasn't everyday that he was challenged to a race and sped off with the hope of holding a consistent speed, but even now he could feel himself raring to go again after a short break.

His lack of an answer hardly seemed to matter; Xie Lian had comprehended something in his silence that he had been unwilling to admit aloud.

“You slowed down for me.” Xie Lian remarked softly, and Hong'er was relieved to find that he didn't sound, or appear, upset. However, the elder of the two shortly let out a sigh, the cool air almost catching it in motion.

He crossed the small distance separating them to lightly rest his hand on Hong'er's shoulder, saying passionately, “I meant what I said. I've never seen anything like that, not from anyone's first try. You shouldn't slow yourself down for others, even if those people are your friends.”

His eyes fluttered at the touch, and so did the organ steadfastly pumping blood to his extremities.

Xie Lian smiled brightly, wholly unaware of his plight, “Hong'er, I'm good at other things. Everyone has a different skill set, and there's almost always something you'll be better at than another person. So don't sell yourself short.”

Unable to hold the other's gaze without blurting out thoughtlessly the real reason he'd almost halted to a stop, Hong'er lowered his eyes and forced a smile when Xie Lian asked if he had energy for a redo.

Fleetingly, he had wondered if there would ever be another opportunity for them to run side by side, not only teammates, but as equals—he didn't want to compete with Xie Lian. If he had to, he wanted to lose.

He longed to see him smile brighter than the sun in victory, crowned as the winner, draped in gold that matched the lightest parts of his brown eyes.

Hong'er and Xie Lian settled on a park bench not far off the track, the older boy's hair slightly damp from a wash in the locker room showers. He'd changed out of his track uniform and into a baggy sweatshirt and jeans, a desirable alternative to fitted slacks that Hong'er wished he could hurry home and abandon in favor of more comfortable attire. Feng Xin and Mu Qing sat on the other side of the bench, having a go at each other anytime there was a lengthy silence. Hong'er wondered if they had anything better to do aside from argue when there was a pause, but he doubted either of them had the mental capacity for productive activities. Xie Lian mostly ignored them, evidently used to their bickering.

A bubble had formed around the two, as Xie Lian gently instructed him, urging him to stop whenever he noticed imperfections in his methods.

He taught him the proper way to wield his pencil, the first couple times even guiding his hand. But, when that made Hong'er write even stiffer lines, Xie Lian bemusedly abandoned that tactic for another one, allowing him to draw some air back into his lungs. Xie Lian insisted they continue practicing after declaring them done for the day, the light of the setting sun casting a halo over him, and Hong'er didn't have the strength to deny him.

Xie Lian saw in him someone worthy of being redeemed, and though he knew his penmanship was a lost cause no one in their right might would try to salvage, Xie Lian was confident in his ability to improve.

He had Hong'er's trust when he held out his arms to catch him, all those years ago, and he had it now.

The days were long, and often he felt as though he were trapped inside of a snow globe with no escape. Hands pressed to the sloping planes of the glass, watching the world outside move at a speed he couldn't possibly comprehend, Hong'er slowly withdrew into himself.

Into his work, into the madness of repetition, copying, tracing, outlining the design he was trying to mold himself into. Snowflakes swirled beyond his prison, dancing in soft disarray, white as death.

Holding the key to freedom, Hong'er turned the latch of his cell at the call of a bell echoing through silent halls, loud to all but him. Eyes that were warm and sweet like filtered sunlight occasionally found his solitary figure across the room, quietly pleading for a reply without words.

That he was okay, that their friendship still had meaning, even when they were chained down to their seats and the last proper conversation they had had was a fleeting greeting and a goodbye.

It would be fine, eventually. This difficult period would pass, the walls of that see-through chamber would melt away, and he would remember what it was to live outside of it. To breathe in fresh, clean air—to walk by his side.

Xie Lian put notes in his locker sometimes.

Maybe because it was the only way they could communicate without disturbing the unnaturally still corridors with their whispers.

The first time he found one, he had stared at it in a stunned stupor for a long while and didn't know what to think of it.

Like the existence of the ripped piece of notebook paper had restored something within him, bringing him back to a less cold reality. His thumbs absently traced the beautiful scrawl, and he exhaled a slow, shaking breath.

’How are you doing today? I had to ask where your locker would be. Do you really have to walk this far every time? They should have given you a new one when you were bumped up to our grade level! - Xie Lian :)’

Grabbing a pack of sticky notes from his bag, Hong'er quickly wrote down a response and went in search of Xie Lian's locker, praying it was at least legible as he slipped it through the gap.

In their next shared block, Hong'er met Xie Lian's waiting gaze and cracked a smile, a private sentiment that was immediately returned. And so, a new tradition was started.

’Did Mu Qing escape his tests to go to the movie theater? He smelled like popcorn all afternoon. - H'

’Feng Xin put gum in Mu Qing's hair. I had to help detangle it with butter in the bathroom. Please never repeat this, because if I tell him it was an extra container from a fastfood place we went to he'll never forgive me. - XL’

’What a genius innovation. Gege's secret is safe with me. - H'

’Meet me after school for a run? It's supposed to snow heavily this weekend, so we'd better do it while we can! - XL'

’I’ll be there. - H'

’It’s almost winter break! Do you have any plans? I have quite a few people to shop for this year, so it's been a little stressful juggling end of the year tests with my plans outside school. Let's practice your writing a bit if you're free! - XL'

’I plan to sleep for two days straight after we're let off, if that counts for anything. I only have a couple people I want to buy anything for, but I have no clue what to get them. I'm not good with gifts. If gege still thinks my calligraphy is a good investment, I'd be happy to. - H’

’You deserve the rest. As for the presents, that won't do! We can brainstorm together while we work. Meet me at the public library down the road at around five pm tomorrow! :) - XL'

’I look forward to it :) - H'

The next day, their homeroom gathered together on the floor. Most of them wore tacky pajamas, courtesy of a special ‘Christmas’ party that allowed the students to celebrate by abandoning their uniforms.

The only light in the darkened classroom came from rainbow string lights pinned to all four corners of the walls and the projector screen blaring some western holiday film with poorly translated subtitles.

If he wasn't distracted by a certain prince at his side, giggling softly at the absolute ridiculousness of the present scene being shown, he might have stopped to appreciate the warm, cozy atmosphere he would one day struggle to replicate in the quiet of his empty apartment.

Hong'er sat so close to Xie Lian that their shoulders brushed at the smallest of movements, and though he was much more used to their general lack of proximity, he still had to pay close attention to how much he was breathing, or he wouldn't remember that his body required it to function.

He felt Xie Lian suddenly stiffen against him, and peered up at him to ask quietly, “Gege? Is everything okay?”

Xie Lian nodded, a slow smile spreading across his lips as he attempted to lean back and give Hong'er a better look at what had made him go as still as a board—Feng Xin's head was laying on his shoulder, mouth open and drooling slightly. His breath smelled like peppermint candy canes.

Hong'er deadpanned at the disgraceful scene, and his reaction sparked a low chuckle from Xie Lian, who tried to cover it with his hands. “D-Don't make that face, please—” He was shaking from it, jostling Feng Xin awake once or twice, just for the idiot to fall right back asleep.

Mu Qing glared at them from his place next to Hong'er, looking as though he was going to say something to spoil their fun, only to fall short at the sight of one of his best friends passed out in the middle of the Elf extravaganza. He rolled his eyes and muttered, “Put that camera of yours to use, Xie Lian.”

“I can't! The light would be too bright.”

Xie Lian did in fact have one—a very nice model that he'd received as a birthday gift from his parents. He took pictures of anything and everything, whatever he found worthy of being suspended in time, and had filled albums on top of albums of film he brought to be converted into glossy prints.

Hong'er was often a popular subject matter for him. He had been a little startled by its flash on the first occasion Xie Lian appeared around a corner of the building he'd taken refuge behind, a sketchbook in hand and a charcoal pencil in the other. “What is gege doing?” He'd asked, smiling slightly as Xie Lian lowered the camera and smiled enthusiastically.

“Gathering memories. Some of it is for the school yearbook.” He explained, moving to take a couple more at different angles. Xie Lian was involved in so many things that Hong'er could scarcely keep track of them all, and wondered how Xie Lian himself managed such an overwhelming schedule.

He'd asked once, and Xie Lian had shrugged after a moment of thinking about it quite seriously, saying with enviable calm, “I think, if I'm not always doing something, I'll feel like the day is wasted.”

“Gege is wasting it taking candids of me. I'm not doing anything interesting, and I'm sure I'm not a very desirable subject.” Hong'er laughed, and was surprised to find Xie Lian frowning at him from where he sat kneeled on the asphalt, now snapping photos of a ladybug crawling across the ground.

“Maybe you would change your mind if you saw them. Capturing a person in their element, when they aren't expecting their photograph to be taken, their real selves show through the most.” Xie Lian smiled softly as he navigated to the pictures he had taken recently, scrolling through them.

“For example, did you know that when you're drawing, your face is much more expressive than usual?” he hummed, turning the camera so he could see what was displayed on the screen.

He was leaned up against a brick wall, legs drawn up to form an adequate spot to rest his drawing tablet. His hair, tied haphazardly in a bun, had slipped out of its updo from the assault of the frequent bursts of cold wind rushing past, strands of black hair loose and messy.

Subconsciously, he tucked a couple behind his ears as he continued to examine the photo, seeing that he indeed had a gentler expression than was normal, smiling quietly down at the muse of his drawing.

Ah, how embarrassing—if Xie Lian had come from a different direction, he would have seen the very cause for his vulnerable state.

Hong'er felt his cheeks grow hot, and he urgently averted his eyes. “Sneaking up on people is unfair, gege.”

“Ahaha! I'm sorry, you're probably right.” Xie Lian laughed, as he moved to sit beside him. Thankfully Hong'er had already flipped to a new page.

A moment of companionable silence passed, before the older boy grinned without looking at him, “Want to see what I took of Mu Qing and Feng Xin?”

“Yes, please.”

Xie Lian's camera had successfully done the bidding of its master in many interesting, unforgettable scenarios, but he supposed he would just have to take a snapshot of this in his mind in its stead.

A half an hour later, their teacher wished them farewell as the bell gave its last toll and the eager to leave highschool students clamored to their feet, fleeing to their lockers. Xie Lian was slower to join the fray, taking the time to wake Feng Xin up. Mu Qing took over, placing a hand on the man's shoulder.

“You and him are going to the library, right? Do you care if we head back?” Mu Qing clearly wasn't in any kind of mood for additional ventures outside of school, and frankly, Xie Lian was old enough to be without a bodyguard for a while. As expected, Xie Lian shook his head with a small smile.

“I don't mind. I'll see you later?” Xie Lian said, as he led Hong'er to the door. His friend nodded curtly in acknowledgement, returning his attention to Feng Xin, who was mumbling something about his dreams being of snowmen coming to life. Hong'er waited for Xie Lian to get his things, and then took the lead through the hallways, making a couple turns in order to get to where the freshmen were wrapping themselves up in coats and scarves.

Without Mu Qing and Feng Xin around to make working an impossible thing, they made much more progress in the library than usual.

However, Xie Lian did not seem entirely pleased as he smiled in exasperation, “Hong'er, you can't just write The Ache of Separation over and over. You're already good at that one.”

Hong'er quirked a brow. It wasn't often that he openly disagreed with Xie Lian, and he had no intention of doing so now, but still pointed out, “Isn't it better to perfect one thing, instead of being mediocre at a dozen others?”

Xie Lian actually appeared stumped at that. He peered over his shoulder, silently reading the lines of the poem he had copied.

’No water is enough when you have crossed the sea;
‘No cloud is beautiful but that which crowns the peak.’
’I pass by flowers that fail to attract poor me'
‘Half for your sake and half for the Taoism I seek.’

Hong'er could tell that he understood what was inked on the paper based on the way his eyes flitted over each word, instead of casting a passing, hopeless glance at his work like he had done at the beginning of their sessions.

Xie Lian studied it with a soft, distant expression. Smiling faintly, he said under his breath, “You really like this poem, don't you?”

“I do.” Hong'er didn't hesitate to say so, and Xie Lian laughed sweetly. It was like tinkling bells in his ears, but not the ones at school. These were butterfly wings brushing past his cheeks, windchimes in warm spring wind.

“Alright. Copy it a couple more times, and then we'll be done for now.”

Hong'er was pleasantly surprised at how much time Xie Lian seemed willing to spend with him over their break. Aside from these lessons that they agreed to perform every couple of days, they also set a date to go to the mall before Christmas so Xie Lian could help with his shopping.

When their arms were laden with bags and Hong'er's wallet was considerably lighter than it had been when he walked into the vast outlet, they stopped by the mall's food court and ordered a variety of dishes to share.

As he picked his way through a small container of fries, his eyes slid over at the sound of a loud pair of voices.

“Ge, over here! The dresses!”

There was a young boy about He Xuan's age with his bouncy curls tied back in a ponytail, walking arm in arm with another stern faced individual closer to Xie Lian's age, maybe a couple years older. His dark blue eyes were sharp as they snapped over to his sibling. “For the last time, I'm not buying you anything from there. Get it with your Christmas money.”

“But that's days away!”

Their chatter faded as their figures swept past them, moving further along and out of sight. As the gray sky set into a swath of blue mirroring that arrogant looking man's piercing gaze, Xie Lian and Hong'er loaded their haul into the trunk of his car. Despite only waiting for a couple minutes, the inside of the vehicle had already warmed a great deal, and his body gave one final shiver in protest of the freezing air he had just started to recover from.

A half an hour went by with idle conversation and the peculiar nostalgia of the radio playing holiday tunes, and soon Xie Lian pulled up to park in front of his apartment complex. “Thank you for your help today, gege.” He smiled, as the other boy got out of the driver's seat to pop open the back and help him gather his things. There was one small package left, and when Xie Lian moved to grab it, Hong'er gently stopped him with his arm.

“That…that one's for you.” He mumbled. Xie Lian set it back down, though he continued to peer at it curiously. Then, he let out a soft ‘ah!’ like he'd remembered something he almost forgot, and rushed to fetch something from the glove box. The way it had been wrapped made it look and feel like a CD, which Hong'er turned over in his hands once Xie Lian passed it to him.

“Merry Christmas…eve.” Xie Lian smiled, his eyes gentle.

“Merry Christmas eve, gege.” Hong'er returned softly, his breath fanning out around his lips in a white fog. He watched the other as he got into his car, rolling down his window to grin and wave cheerfully at him,

“I'll see you next year?”

Hong'er couldn't help but laugh—from anyone else, it would have been a silly and unreasonable thing to say, but somehow Xie Lian pulled that sort of behavior off without inviting death threats from those around him.

The next morning, Xie Lian opened a box to find a new camera, and a note attached that simply said, ’This one doesn't have a flash when you take pictures. Merry Christmas, gege.’

An hour later, with He Xuan hot on his trail, Hong'er gently undid the wrappings of his own gift, careful not to rip it. It was a CD like he had predicted, but not the kind he was expecting. This one was clearly pictures Xie Lian had developed and transferred over onto it.

On that disc, written in sharpie were the words, ’In case you ever need a reminder of what a nice subject you are. Merry Christmas!’

Hong'er was a little behind in walking to the middle school to pick up He Xuan and his younger sister, having stopped by the track to retrieve some of the things he'd forgotten the day before. Shoving his small bag of gym equipment into his bigger one, Hong'er zipped it up and slung it over his back, stepping out into the flurry of snow swirling around the field.

He Xuan and He Xiaoli were not waiting on the other side of the road as he had expected them to be, nor were they alone. They stood close together in front of the highschool, by the slightly crooked stop sign that had been pushed over a little by a car sliding on the icy pavement and bumping into it.

With their backs turned to him, Hong'er could see that they were speaking to a taller boy he didn't recognize. His pudgy, acne ridden face was only made less appealing by the scowl he wore.

At this distance he couldn't tell what they were talking about, but he was clearly saying something to He Xuan, and when he hit a roadblock in their conversation, aggressively shoved at the younger's shoulders.

Something in Hong'er jolted, his already quickening pace speeding up into a run as He Xuan stumbled backwards, He Xiaoli letting out a sharp cry as she reached out in vain to catch him, eyes wide and fearful.

He Xuan's foot had slipped on a patch of ice, and he lurched off balance, holding up his arms to brace for an impact that would never come. He blinked rapidly as he hit something much softer than the ground, tilting his head to find Hong'er staring at the other boy with open disdain.

Hong'er carefully helped him to stand without assistance, ushering him closer to his little sister, and coldly demanded, “What's going on?”

The older boy sneered, “Nothing that concerns you.”

“I disagree,” Hong'er smiled slightly, and it made the other falter somewhat. “He's my brother. Why are you threatening him?”

He Xuan was even more taken aback by this than the brute of a sophomore currently sizing Hong'er up, who looked nowhere remotely related to He Xuan. He must have assumed he was adopted or something, because he didn't question it, only looked back at him with renewed annoyance.

He highly doubted he would get a decent answer out of this incel, so he turned to He Xuan instead, raising an eyebrow in question. He Xuan glanced between Hong'er and the taller boy, stepping closer to say under his breath,

”Money.”

Hong'er's eyes narrowed, and he laughed humorlessly at the teenager in front of him, “Seriously? You're trying to steal from a twelve year old?”

Folding his arms, he said with a contemptuous smile, “Afraid you can't get cash off someone your age?”

The sophomore resembling a bull snorted in derision, and then grunted, “You know what? I recognize you. You're that…that brainy kid who got moved up. How much did you have to pay the board for that? Or, do you just know that much?” He taunted.

Hong'er's leering grin only widened. “It’s not that I know that much. You just know too little.”

The boy might have been wisely holding back before, but with a direct insult to his intelligence, it was finally enough to push him into action. Hong'er had somewhat expected this to come to violence, easily sidestepping the other's slow moving fist as it swung directly at him, meeting air.

He slid on the same spot He Xuan had, only he didn't have the benefit of someone there to catch him. Instead, he flew forward and landed on the frozen path, Hong'er peering down at his groaning, writhing body with a quietly satisfied smirk. Preparing to take his leave with the two younger kids, he turned around, thinking their fight was over before it began.

Hong'er's luck was only a bit better than it had been when he was younger, but the significant changes in his life had given him false confidence and, with this newfound arrogance, he forgot the number one most important rule when in a battle; never turn your back on your opponent.

Unless they were unconscious or dead.

He stopped in place, but not by choice—a hand had closed around his ankle, gripping hard, and Hong'er glanced back over his shoulder to find that sophomore's scraped, pig-like face grinning back at him as he gave his leg a rough tug.

All at once, his vision jerked skyward as his heart leapt into his throat.

Hong'er took the exact path as he had, only he was quite a lot better at maneuvering himself and thus did not faceplant on the concrete. Instead, he twisted around in order to land on his back, inhaling shortly as the air was expelled from his lungs. He Xuan and his sister whirled around, rushing over to his side as the sophomore clambered on top of him, trying in vain to pull at his arms, clothes, anything they could reach, to give Hong'er leverage.

Pinned and winded as he was, Hong'er had only just recovered slightly from being thrown to the ground when a closed fist made contact with his face.

A sharp crack split the frigid atmosphere, and Hong'er choked out a ragged gasp as blood filled his mouth. His head was spinning, aching from the impact of his unsupported landing, joined by a searing, cinching pain at his nose, which was dripping thick streams of red fluid.

He Xiaoli was sobbing openly now, begging for the boy to let go of him, telling him to take all they had in their pockets, and her desperate pleas paired with He Xuan's anxious cursing anchored him to the earth.

His unfocused vision, scattered and blurry, settled on the trembling form of He Xuan still earnestly tugging at the boy's sweatshirt, then to his sister, who had collapsed to her knees nearby, wailing for help.

“HONG'ER!” He Xuan yelled, as he kicked ferociously at the older boy's side. This finally made him loosen his hold on Hong'er somewhat, giving the younger teen enough space to nail his perpetrator in the gut, hard.

He had plenty of practice on He Xuan, but he'd always restrained himself in order to avoid hurting him. Now, he packed every bit of strength he had behind that calculated movement, and the boy choked on his own spit, coughing and spluttering. His hand had at some point closed around Hong'er's throat, pressing down on his windpipe, refusing to let him up even now—

And then, all at once, that pressure subsided, and the shadow looming over him disappeared and gave way to a white winter sky.

Vaguely, he thought he might have heard a heavy thud, and then He Xiaoli exclaimed in surprise as He Xuan panted, stepping away to allow a new figure to pass through. The face of an angel looked back at him, and he had the temporary worry that he might be dead. No. If he was dead, there was no need to be afraid—not if Xie Lian was here to greet him like this.

Ah, wait…that couldn't be right. Xie Lian would also need to have died to have a place of power in the heavens, and surely, he hadn't been…

Hong'er's brows furrowed as the boy's lips moved around a few muted words, the ringing in his ears preventing him from understanding at first.

“—Okay? Let—see you—”

Xie Lian knelt at his side, carefully slipping a hand behind his back, the other moving to cradle his head as he helped Hong'er into a sitting position.

Those golden eyes were flooded with concern as he called He Xuan over to hold him up while he dug around in his pockets.

Extracting what appeared to be his car keys, he found a small flashlight attached to the ring and coaxed Hong'er to keep his eyes open. He tried to, he really did, but when the light flashed into them, he blinked instinctively and flinched away. He was about to slur out an apology when Xie Lian sighed, low and relieved, “Doesn't look like you have a concussion,”

The worry etched into his gentle face hadn't gone away, however, as he continued to examine Hong'er closely, “But your nose is definitely broken.”

He Xuan's hands tightened at his back, his pale eyes rimmed with red. He said nothing, but Hong'er could feel the fear and shame radiating off him in waves, and scoffed, “Quit sulking. I'm the one hurt, here.”

“Why do you think I'm upset?!” He Xuan hissed, and Hong'er blinked. “It's—it’s my fault! I should have just given him the damn money—”

“No, you shouldn't have.” Hong'er cut in calmly, as He Xuan drew in shaking breaths, his chest heaving with emotions he couldn't suppress. “I wasn't lying, before.”

“What?” He Xuan managed to gasp out, confused, and Hong'er smiled a little. He probably looked incredibly stupid, with blood dripping off his chin and a somewhat dazed look in his eyes, but he seemed to be in control of his actions, and no one could make him say what he didn't want to.

Which meant there was no other explanation for his declarations aside from it being sincere, and He Xuan wasn't too sure what to do with that.

“You're my brother. I won't let anyone take from you, or hurt you.”

It was an admittance shared in no more than whisper, but He Xuan heard it in perfect clarity. The words he would never forget, the words he found courage in, even when he would well and truly piss the other man off in the future, knowing where he stood and what lengths this unfathomable person would go to, all for him. Because he was his brother.

A single tear made its way down the younger boy's face as he snapped, “But you kick me, and take money from me all the time! Since you're my brother, that's okay?” He knew perfectly well that he owed that money to Hong'er, and that most of the time, the kicks didn't even hurt. He had never been put in a position where he watched, helpless, as someone he cared for (however reluctantly) was beaten into the ground for his sake. How was he supposed to act? He knew that Hong'er didn't want his pity, or his apologies.

He hadn't really intended to make him go to the aquarium, either, but Hong'er walked there every day with him for a week. His claim had been that he didn't want him to be kidnapped, yet he went wherever He Xuan pulled him, buying him prizes and candy and lingering in the background of whichever room He Xuan decided to spend extra time in.

Because Hong'er was his brother, and brothers, especially older, begrudging ones, would act as bothered by you as they pleased,

And still show up every time you needed them.

“I hate you.” He Xuan spat, as a second tear slipped forth, and then another, until he was angrily sniffling and rubbing aggressively at his eyes, forcing Hong'er to lean against him in order to not fall over.

“I suck?” Hong'er prompted, and He Xuan nodded, echoing viciously,

“You suck.”

Xie Lian sat on his knees in front of the two boys, his expression difficult to read. He had pulled out his little phone with too many buttons a couple minutes ago, presumably to let someone know where he was at, and silently put it in his coat pocket. “The nurse is out, since school is done for the day.” He fixed his attention on Hong'er, who drearily met his gaze.

“Hong'er, my mother is a doctor. She can have a look at you, but you'll have to come along with me for a while.”

When Hong'er gave him a smile in assent, saying without words that he found the arrangement more than alright, Xie Lian's eyes slid to the two He siblings. “Do you two have a ride?”

Brother and sister both shook their heads, and He Xiaoli explained shyly, “Our mom and dad work late, and before Hong'er started walking us back, we had to wait at the library for them.”

Nodding in understanding, Xie Lian smiled kindly, “Why don't you join me? I can drop you off before it gets dark.”

Although they had both been educated in ‘stranger danger', as well as what was and wasn't appropriate with someone you had just met, neither one of them felt any sort of concern for their well-being as a car pulled up by the sidewalk a few minutes later, Xie Lian parking it and coming around to help Hong'er into the passenger seat while they clambered into the back.

Xie Lian passed Hong'er a package of wet wipes and a roll of paper towels to help temporarily staunch the bleeding from his nose, which had made quite a mess of his face and the front of his shirt. He leaned his head up against the window, the frosted pane gradually melting under the influence of the heater turned to full blast soothing the throbbing bump there.

He Xuan and He Xiaoli were taken home first, the younger boy nodding firmly to him once before he helped his sister with her things, guiding her to the front porch after checking the street for cars. Hong'er sighed softly, waiting until he saw both of them get inside to look the other way.

Xie Lian turned the keys in the ignition again, saying softly into the silence, “You really are brave, Hong'er.”

Hong'er tensed, trying not to grimace when his inhale had him tasting the coppery flavor of blood in his throat again. “I lost.” He muttered.

“No, you didn't.” Xie Lian shook his head, hands tightening on the steering wheel. Looking over at him, he saw only steady conviction in the youth's unwavering smile, the bright golds of his eyes shining with pride.

How he had won, Xie Lian didn't elaborate on, choosing instead to let him dwell on it on his own for a while. He did so until Xie Lian gently alerted him that they were at his house, and, compared to the apartments he had seen everywhere else in the city, this really was one.

He had been so lost in thought that the time had passed him by, but he could tell by their surroundings that they were probably at the edge of the district, where things weren't so tightly cramped together and there was a bit more breathing room between buildings.

Xie Lian's home was a proper manor, a castle more like, especially in its design. It must have stood for a couple hundred years at least, and got renovated or updated only when necessary repairs were needed.

It was beautiful, but slightly overwhelming walking up to. Xie Lian used a modern looking pin pad to open the front door, even pressing his thumb to a scanner, and then a lock inside its mechanism quietly clicked as its defenses were disarmed. Hong'er tried not to appear as out of his depth as he felt, letting the older boy lead him inside and guide him through the vast space to sit down in the living area, which was bigger than his whole apartment.

Xie Lian left him there for a couple minutes while he searched for his mother, and searched really was the most adequate word, because you would have to be looking carefully to find life in a residence this large.

Evidently he located her in the study down the hallway, because he heard their voices from a distance, hushed and, on Xie Lian's end, a bit frantic.

He fidgeted nervously where he sat, hopefully not bleeding all over the luxurious carpet, praying that he wasn't the reason for Xie Lian rapidly explaining the situation and why he had brought an unexpected guest into their space. When a kind faced woman strode into the room with an equally worried expression, he found that this was not the case.

“Oh, dear.” She whispered, her pinched mouth curving into a sympathetic smile as she walked over to him, pulling a chair up to sit in front of him.

Setting her medical briefcase down on the coffee table, she turned briefly to Xie Lian as she unclasped the front of the kit and removed some cotton swabs and disinfectant. “Love, why don't you go make us some tea?” She suggested, when Xie Lian continued to hover nearby, unsure of how to help.

“Ah! Of course, I'll be right back!” Xie Lian seemed to relax now that he had something to preoccupy himself with, rushing off into the kitchen. Hong'er could hear him puttering around with various dishes behind the screen door separating the two rooms, and Mrs. Xie returned to lightly dabbing away at the blood on his face, exerting special care around the clotted nostrils.

“There's not much that can be done for this, but there are things you can do passively.” the woman spoke in a delicate, airy manner that soothed him even without knowing her well. Her eyes were so like Xie Lian's—no, all of her was.

“Every couple of hours while you're awake, keep a cold compress against the injury for ten to twenty minutes.” she instructed kindly, removing herself for a moment to take care of the small mess that had accumulated.

“Keep your head elevated when you rest, and avoid any strenuous activities where possible.” Her smile turned knowing as she added firmly, watching disappointment flit across his face, “I know that you do track, and that does fall into that category.” Hong'er's jaw clicked as his mouth slid fully shut—he didn't want to argue his useless points like a child, and he knew she wouldn't have him exert so much caution if it wasn't necessary to the healing process.

“You're a quiet thing, aren't you?” She smiled, the skin around her eyes creasing as he flushed. Had he been too unresponsive to her?

“I…ah, apologize,” Hong'er had never been much of a formal speaker, but in front of such a poised, swanlike figure, manners manifested themselves out of nowhere, conjured by her very presence. “He…talks about me?” He found the confidence to ask, and Mrs. Xie's smile turned quite fond.

“All the time, even when he was little. He says he met you years ago? When we went on our trip to the country for his birthday, to visit his grandfather. He called you ‘Brave Hong'er' for a long while, and he was so pleased to discover that you were going to the same school.” She recounted, laughing softly when she saw how bright red he had become.

Leaning forward, the woman kindly squeezed his knee as she passed him an ice pack to hold against his nose. Her next words felt as cold in his heart as the piercing pain when he administered pressure to the place it had gone somewhat crooked, “You must pardon me for assuming, but I'm usually right about these things. I'm sensing that you may have some depth of feeling for that foolish boy, beyond what is expected for friends?”

Hong'er choked, going rigid in his chair as Mrs. Xie blinked back worriedly, immediately reassuring him, “Please, don't panic. Oh, dear boy. Listen to me.” She shook her head, and his wide eyes dropped to her hands as she slowly extended them, waiting for him to take them. Cautiously, he did, and she smiled so lovingly then, “I know, it must be so hard for you.”

Hong'er was a lot of things. He was stubborn, had a fierce temper, and didn't like sharing what was his. He believed strongly in his own cleverness, and his ability to succeed eventually in anything he longed to learn. When he loved someone, truly loved them, nothing they said or did would matter if he had decided to care for them in spite of their flaws, new or old.

He would follow them to the ends of the earth, or die trying to.

So of course, he knew that this was what he felt for Xie Lian, and that it was also completely, utterly hopeless to do so in the open.

He knew that. He didn't need anyone to tell him.

But still, the mother of the man he would throw himself into the abyss for whispered to his heart, and he cried in earnest without tears, because his feelings were, at least in some way, finally recognized.

“You're so young,” She said delicately, grasping his hands in hers, thumbs brushing over his trembling wrists. “You know this, don't you? Xie Lian tells me you're incredibly smart. But you have much growing to do. There are some things that must be learned in time, and can't be rushed.”

Hong'er's mouth pressed into a taut line, eyelashes quivering. He let them fall shut as she inched nearer. “And you also know that next year, he'll be going abroad for college? That he may be away for a while?”

Swallowing roughly, he allowed his head to tip forward in admission, and Mrs. Xie exhaled bitterly, hurt as much by this as he was. Yes, they had spoken about this, when their conversations inevitably turned to the future.

What they planned to do with it, how even in his youth, he was discussing very seriously with Yushi Huang what he wished to do in moving forward.

And the institution Xie Lian planned to go to wouldn't have been in his wildest dreams of attending, not just for lack of money, but because of the distinct line of separation cut through the sand of business and freedom.

“It won't matter,” Hong'er bit out in the silence, Mrs. Xie tracing the sorrowful features of his bruised face, knowing his spite was not at all directed towards her. “I'll wait. For him to come back.”

“You will?”

Hong'er opened his eyes to see her watching him almost hopefully. Timidly, he nodded, and then said with absolution, “I will.”

Mrs. Xie's red painted mouth curved upwards at the edges. There was a sadness there that he couldn't pinpoint. “I don't think I could rightfully ask any more of you than that. He's found a loyal friend in you, Brave Hong'er.”

Xie Lian shortly returned with the tea, balanced neatly on a tray that he rested beside his mother's medical tools. It smelled light and floral, and when he was handed a precious china cup and took a cautious sip, he found it tasted exactly as its scent notes promised.

“It’s called tieguanyin.” Mrs. Xie smiled, carefully holding her own glass.

“My favorite.” Xie Lian added happily, as he came to sit near Hong'er.

“Our favorite. Aren't I the one who introduced you, and taught you how to make it? Where is my credit?” Xie Lian's mother huffed, as she playfully swatted her son on the arm. Xie Lian laughed, gently nudging Hong'er and moving in to whisper next to his ear,

“Don’t mind her. She's just a bit cranky, because she knows I've used the last three servings of it in the house, and we'll have to buy more.”

“I'm not deaf!”

The anxious feeling in his chest that had navigated a few degrees lower and settled in his stomach all but faded away as he listened to the pair of them argue back and forth without any heat, smiling against the ice pack pressed to his face. He would wait. A decade, a hundred years, a thousand—

A millennia could pass, and Hong'er would wait, the ever loyal dog.

Because there was no shame in waiting like one, not for him.

It was the last day of school.

Not just the start of summer break, but the very last, until he hitched a ride off to college and started all over again. Yushi Huang had been tentative to let him attend so young, and Hong'er had shared her concerns, at least in wondering how he would get there and back without a driver's licence. So he decided to learn a trade, and would spend the next couple of years there until he had the means of managing his own transportation.

For once, Hong'er didn't feel impatient to get somewhere. Xie Lian wouldn't be returning for a while, but that didn't mean he wouldn't come back, and when he did, Hong'er wanted to be right where he'd left him.

Some places had their traditions, cultures and a fancy send off, and he supposed this academy was no different. Here, they had their very own crown prince, a play taking place in a festival colored with signature golds and reds, and donning the signature robes was none other than Xie Lian himself.

He had wondered why so many people referred to him as ‘dianxia’ when he first ran into Xie Lian, and only after some nudging from Mu Qing did the boy admit with a flustered expression that it was due to his role in the school's play for the last few years, one he would be taking up again before graduation. And somehow, despite surely being the person most eager to witness such a spectacle with his own eyes and not in some diluted recording, tickets had already been sold out by the time he tried to get his hands on one.

After a bit of back and forth with the vendor, Hong'er decided that if there weren't any available chairs, he would get a bird's eye view instead.

Which is how ten minutes later, he found himself sneaking in through the back doors of the sectioned off school building and making his way to the auditorium via a less traveled route, usually one taken by the theater kids.

Very carefully, Hong'er climbed up onto the wooden beams directly above the stage to watch, right as the red curtain was pulled in both directions to reveal the glittering cast donned in their period accurate costumes.

Leaning forward, breathless, Hong'er's eyes traced the outlines of Xie Lian's decorative mask as he strode forward with a sword in hand—it was a very well-made prop, easily as heavy as a real weapon to boost its authenticity, and he wielded it like water. He had witnessed firsthand the strength coursing through every inch of the youth's body, when he offered Hong'er lessons in self defense and encouraged him to partake in a martial arts course.

He recognized some of his movements now, as he went about slaying the demon posing a threat to the ancient city of Xianle, the crowd of gathered students and staff applauding with each successful strike.

He was so entranced by the scene playing out that he did not initially hear the ominous creaking of the wooden plank he sat on, not until he felt it crack from right underneath him. The next couple of moments were a blur.

A fraction of time suspended in a motionless picture, shaken up like a snow globe, tiny flecks of white settling to the ground, still and silent until the world was turned upside down once more. And as he fell, a pair of arms reached out to catch him soundly, unhesitating as they always were.

Xie Lian had leapt from his pedestal, abandoning the track of honor to carry him seamlessly to safety. His mask had fallen from his face, revealing a pair of honey-brown eyes lined with gold, red pearl earrings dangling at his ears as he smiled broadly down at him, unphased by their clamoring and screaming audience, “...I was wondering where you might be.”

Hong'er, rattled from his fall and in disbelief that he had been caught, could only stare back in shock, his eyes round.

He was grasping at Xie Lian's robes, his fingers leaving traces of the dust and dirt that they had absentmindedly touched while sitting on the beams, part of which now littered the stage and thankfully hadn't landed on someone.

Traditions are, in the end, just that. They start from somewhere, and are passed down by word of mouth.

Written into history books, slabs of rock or in wet clay, all of which are not infallible, nor safe from burning, paving the way for new practices.

And thus, just like this, a new one was made.

Transforming a play about a prince with boundless prosperity and his fight with a demon into a tale of mishap, a right being wronged, and a worthless life given purpose.

Because for some, the very existence of a certain person in this world was in itself hope.

Chapter Text

Xie Lian was not used to waking up with eyes on him, or in this case, eye. Blinking the sleep out of his own, Xie Lian slowly moved his hand to pet the small creature currently sitting on his chest, gently pawing at his cheek.

E-Ming meowed rather enthusiastically when he saw that he was beginning to stir, and his laughter nearly threw the kitten off balance as his chest vibrated with it.

“Good morning, E-Ming. How late is it?”

The last part he wondered more to himself, sitting forward unhurriedly as he reached for where he'd left his phone on the coffee table next to the couch.

E-Ming bounced away but didn't go far, content to sit near his feet and curl up on top of the rumpled blanket. Serving as a tiny pillar of protection.

Turning the screen on to the smartphone he was still very much learning how to navigate, Xie Lian studied the numbers at the top reading ‘10:37 am’ and breathed a small sigh. He was relieved that he hadn't slept in too much, though it had certainly been the best he'd had in some time.

He also had a couple texts from Shi Qingxuan asking him if he wanted to come to the mall with her and He Xuan at around noon.

Smiling softly, Xie Lian pulled up the keyboard.

10:38 am.
Me: I'd like to! Are you sure I won't be getting in the way of you two?

Him, Shi Qingxuan and He Xuan had gone out together as a trio before, and she had always ensured he wasn't treated as an unnecessary third wheel, but he still didn't want to be intruding if they wanted quality time alone.

In the time it took for Shi Qingxuan to reply, Xie Lian had mostly woken up and had the chance to wonder where Hua Cheng had gone off to so early.

He casually asked E-Ming, as if he would know, and surprisingly the little cat blinked slowly at him before going to sit by the bathroom door, looking between it and Xie Lian as he lightly scratched at it.

“E-Ming, you're so smart! I think he's in there, too.” Xie Lian praised, unable to hold back a giggle as the feline's fluffy tail waved around, his mewing echoing down the hall. Feeling his phone vibrate against his leg, Xie Lian moved to retrieve it and peered at the message lingering on the screen before swiping up on it to reply.

10:46 am.
Qingxuan: Never! Actually, I was also going to suggest that you bring Hua Cheng, too. We've never all been anywhere as a group, wouldn't it be fun?

Xie Lian's heart swooped in his chest.

It would be fun, though that was more on account of just getting to prolong the time he spent with Hua Cheng. And with that in mind, hadn't he already long overstayed his welcome? What if he came off as clingy?

He wasn't sure what kind of work Hua Cheng would be doing on a weekend, but like any normal person, he'd probably want some peace and quiet that didn't involve others in his space. Xie Lian went back and forth in his own mind, settling for a ‘maybe.’ Maybe he would want to come, or maybe he wouldn't, and either was a perfectly acceptable answer.

10:48 am.
Me: I'll ask him and get back to you?

10:48 am.
Qingxuan: I'll be waiting!

Xie Lian jumped a bit at the sound of the bathroom door opening down the hall, watching as steam wafted out and gradually dissipated.

Well, it seemed like she wouldn't be waiting too long for an answer.

Hua Cheng stepped out in the most informal outfit he had ever seen him in, and likely the most comfortable, too. He wore a simple t-shirt with an obscure band logo printed on the back of it, a couple sizes too big to be considered fitted. It looked more along the lines of something He Xuan would wear, and he couldn't help but think that was probably who he had gotten it from.

The dark red pants he donned were flowing and light, appearing to be of quality material but intended for lounging. His feet were bare, slender fingers absent of rings and dark hair left free to cascade down his back and over his shoulders in damp, unstyled waves.

Xie Lian had been right before; even dressed down like this, Hua Cheng was fit to be in a model catalog, walking down a runway in sweats.

E-Ming meowed loudly, perhaps vying for his attention, and Hua Cheng withdrew from his attempt to enter his own room and deposit yesterday's clothes in his laundry basket to glance down the hallway. His eye immediately lit up when he saw that Xie Lian was awake, and he briefly stepped inside to put his things down before coming to properly greet him.

The man leaned against the back of the couch, Xie Lian's mind reeling at how close, close, close he was— Hua Cheng beamed, none the wiser of his panicked inner monologue, “Good morning. How did gege sleep?”

Feeling much too warm for how comfortable he had been in his own skin just moments ago, Xie Lian smiled weakly in return, “Very well, actually.”

“Is gege hungry? I can heat up some of the congee.” Hua Cheng suggested, meandering into the kitchen when he received Xie Lian's nod of approval—and heard the answering growl of his stomach in anticipation of breakfast.

Xie Lian took a seat at the island, watching the younger man bustle around, flitting between the cupboards and the refrigerator. Seeing as he was not being immediately shoved out the door and bade a quick farewell, he felt that now was as good a time as any if he was going to invite him out.

Ah. Well, not out—as in, out out. They would be going out to the mall, as friends, if Hua Cheng agreed at all.

’I’m overthinking things again…’

Xie Lian was prone to doing so recently, but it became an inflexible law of nature whenever Hua Cheng was involved, sending his mind and heart into a nervous frenzy. He had never been quick to worry even at the worst of times, which made the trench he kept digging himself into that much harder to claw his way out of without a ladder. Every time, it was Hua Cheng himself that extended his hand, offering him an escape route.

The man of the hour smiled benignly at him as he placed a steaming bowl of congee in front of him, this time accompanied by delicious youtiao. When he had ever gotten the chance to finish it, Xie Lian supposed be would never know, because he quickly blurted out before he could resort to cowardice,

“Shi Qingxuan and He Xuan invited us to go with them to the mall.”

Hua Cheng was just getting comfortable in his chair, lightly stirring his spoon in his bowl, and stilled for a moment at his words. He blinked back at him, and Xie Lian proceeded to ramble on nervously, “I know we spent most of yesterday together, so if I'm—if San Lang would rather have his space, I really do understand. It's just that she, ah, suggested I ask you and—”

“Gege,” he heard Hua Cheng's soft, resonating laughter from the other side of the table and immediately halted in his efforts to explain himself. “I'd be delighted to come with you. I was only surprised that gege wanted to extend his visit with this San Lang. I figured he’d be tired of me.”

His admittance was followed by a quietly pleased smile, as though he genuinely couldn't believe his luck. Xie Lian stared at him in surprise.

There he went again, pulling him out of a hole.

Without thinking, he questioned with wide eyes, “Why?”

Skin as white as snow flushed a lovely, delicate shade of pink, and Hua Cheng averted his one visible eye to peer into his cooling congee. Xie Lian almost sighed aloud at the sight of him—how a man this virtually perfect ever doubted himself for a single moment baffled him to no end.

“Because, gege is my most honored guest. It's been a while since I've hosted anyone, or wanted to. It was…important to me, that I made a good impression.” He explained in a quiet, (though for efforts Xie Lian admired) neutral sort of voice. Unfortunately for him, Xie Lian often had to rely on reading people's most minute expressions to judge whether or not their intentions towards him were good willed. As talented at acting as Hua Cheng was, Xie Lian spotted a few tells of his right off the bat.

On his ring finger, situated in front of an adorning piece of silver was a curious thing; a red string. At any point Hua Cheng displayed a rare show of nerves, he tended to play with it, never undoing it all the way.

He did so now, absentmindedly moving his spoon around with the other hand as his thumb rubbed at his ring finger. He seemed to have an instinctual need to keep his hands busy whenever he was anxious or embarrassed.

Xie Lian's face felt uncomfortably warm as he fully absorbed the sentiment in his confession. 'Honored guest’, huh?

It was clear to him already that Hua Cheng had gone the extra mile to ensure his comfort, but to hear it phrased so seriously…

He thought it wasn't unlike a suitor very invested in the courting process.

In ways he couldn't explain, it made sense to him, and also felt very in character for someone as sincere as Hua Cheng. As for why he was wasting those efforts on some washed out, scrap collecting barista—well.

Maybe that was just a mystery for another day.

He didn't think he was quite prepared to poke the belly of that beast, knowing if he stuck his hand close enough to its teeth that he would inevitably get bitten.

At heart he was an optimist, choosing to see the better aspects of a situation, but deep down he didn't think there was a hope in the world for him here. As long as that affinity knot was looped around Hua Cheng's finger, there was someone else out there tied to the other end of it.

“San Lang,” Xie Lian said disbelievingly, almost laughing a little to himself.

He had had the thought more than once now that they would be much better off if they stopped dancing around each other, fretting over nonsensical things, but he also knew that it stemmed from a heartfelt desire to make the latter happy.

“I've had a wonderful time here. Really.” He insisted.

Hua Cheng smiled softly, every bit of tension that lingered in his posture relaxing at the sound of his voice. The fidgeting of his hands eased.

He met his eyes steadily, and if Xie Lian didn't think that there was a chance of him staring too hard and being caught, he could have gotten lost in the gentle, unwavering affection he found in that inky black iris.

“I'm glad.”

They finished up their breakfast, exchanging pleasant chatter all the while.

Their conversation turned briefly to another possible cooking session in the near future, when Xie Lian gave his compliments on the addition to the simple dish they'd concocted together, and he agreed very enthusiastically to make good use of Hua Cheng's kitchen whenever the opportunity arose.

He had been hesitant at first, not wanting to overstep or make Hua Cheng feel like he would be coming over for just that reason, but the other man had seemed very eager at the prospect of eating his food again, and he couldn't have possibly denied him that when he himself enjoyed the idea immensely.

Once Hua Cheng had changed out of his casual ensemble and into something befitting the cold temperatures, he offered Xie Lian a temporary fix as well until they stopped by his place and he could run in to make an exchange (and check on what was sure to be a rather displeased snake.)

Bundled up in one of Hua Cheng's thicker coats, rimmed with fur and padded inside with the softest cotton that had ever graced his skin, Xie Lian followed him out into the small parking lot behind the apartment building.

Seeing as there were only a few residents, the number of cars matched the amount of people renting out the space, and it was not difficult to ascertain which vehicle was Hua Cheng's. Xie Lian didn't know much about car brands, though he was quite handy at repurposing their parts or fixing them up, but even someone as out of the loop as him had to pick up his jaw from going too slack at the sight of that sleek sports model idly collecting dust.

This was the car Hua Cheng claimed to only drive sparingly?

He could see why, with how much attention it garnered, but Hua Cheng inspired awe wherever he went. Xie Lian doubted it had much to do with the flashiness of the ride, and he recalled the other man saying that he preferred to walk if where he wanted to go was in range. Still…

Just how well off did Hua Cheng have to be to drop money on a transport like this if he rarely made use of it?

“That's…that's yours?” He asked a bit faintly, as Hua Cheng removed his keys from his pants pocket and pressed a button to unlock the vehicle.

A corner of Hua Cheng's mouth lifted in a grin. “Does gege like it?”

Xie Lian nodded with a vacant expression, his eyes carving a steady path along the sharp lines of the luxurious model. Hua Cheng came around to open the passenger side door for him, waiting until he had taken a seat with his bag of belongings on his lap to gently shut it behind him.

His breath fanned out in a cool wisp, which Hua Cheng must have seen, because he apologized softly for the lack of heat as he turned the keys in the ignition and the engine rumbled to life.

It wasn't overwhelmingly loud, but Xie Lian could feel his insides trembling from the force of it, and a giddy smile crept onto his lips.

“I should have let it warm up first—I’m sorry, gege.” Hua Cheng apologized, his handsome brow pinched with a worried crease. Not for the first time, Xie Lian was struck by the desire to reach up and swipe it away.

Xie Lian laughed quietly, “San Lang shouldn't blame himself. We have a limited time frame if we want to get there before lunch.” He reminded him, unable to help but let out a sigh of appreciation at the warmth that was soon to appear at his back, cool black leather squeaking a little with his excessive wriggling around—there were actually heated seats in here!

His mother's car had something similar, but he had long forgotten what it was like to have a reliable means of transportation, let alone one with air conditioning in the summer and a functioning heater in the winter.

If he didn't think he could get somewhere by foot, he put his hopes on the tired white minivan that he had bought off a junkie a few years prior.

So far, he had been forced to make emergency pullovers to repair it on the side of the road on three occasions—all in the burning July sun.

“Here, gege—why don't you put the directions in?” Hua Cheng suggested, handing over his phone. It was already on the maps app, making it easy for Xie Lian to navigate to the bar at the top and type in his location.

Hua Cheng set his phone up in a stand after Xie Lian returned it, letting the automated service give its immediate instructions on where to start going first.

They would pick up Shi Qingxuan and He Xuan on the way, and then make a pit stop at his place. It was conveniently on the way to the mall, and quite close in retrospect, but they still had about an hour-long journey overall.

He thumbed through the many CDs in Hua Cheng's glovebox when the other man pointed out where they were at, eventually settling on something they shared a common interest in. There were some titles he'd never seen or heard of before, and he clearly had a taste for rock. It was refreshing to see that Hua Cheng had a sizable collection of his own, especially when he was so much more technologically inclined than Xie Lian himself—he had expected he would have to figure out that music app that Shi Qingxuan raved about.

He still didn't know what Spotify ‘wrapped’ was and why it was so important to her, and he doubted that he ever would.

The speakers were dialed down to a low hum as the car came to a slow halt in front of Shi Qingxuan's apartment a few minutes into their journey.

She was standing in the middle of the sidewalk, hand in hand with He Xuan and boasting the biggest smile Xie Lian had seen on her since she blurted out during one of their sleepovers that they had started seeing each other.

Taking in her appearance, uncharacteristically lacking in bold makeup, Xie Lian's eyes drifted down to her clothes. While they couldn't exactly be called plain, he could tell right off the bat that they probably hadn't come from her personal wardrobe. He suppressed the urge to comment on it as the second half of their group filed into the back seats, Shi Qingxuan enthusing the warmth of them and snuggling in close to He Xuan, who looked like he would rather be anywhere else. That, however, was not unusual.

She caught his eye as she buckled her seatbelt, smiling softly. He returned the private sentiment, understanding that whatever was going on that he had picked up on, she would tell him later when they didn't have an audience.

“A-Lian, A-Cheng! Thanks for picking us up.” Shi Qingxuan beamed, meeting Hua Cheng's gaze in the mirror at the front.

He nodded once to her, a single brow raised. “It was on the way to gege's.” He clarified, and Xie Lian coughed as Shi Qingxuan 'aw'ed dejectedly—he had to fight the smile threatening to steal over his face at the blatant favoritism.

Hua Cheng grinned at him, propelling the vehicle into motion again and pulling away from the side of the road.

It being close to rush hour meant that the traffic was something of a drag, but now that they were all in one place no one needed to be in a hurry.

Shi Qingxuan insisted on car games to make the time pass faster, pointing out objects for Xie Lian to guess by color or shape.

Her phone's signal had been poor, so he indulged her with the memory of how insufferable she could be when she had nothing to occupy herself with.

At some point He Xuan suggested that they play the quiet game, which Shi Qingxuan adamantly protested against.

Only when they were less than five minutes away did Hua Cheng reveal that he had a hotspot, (a very fast one at that) and He Xuan had looked dangerously close to climbing up onto the center console to strangle him.

It was flurrying when Hua Cheng halted the car outside of Xie Lian's apartment.

White flakes nestled themselves in his hair and weren't quick to melt as he removed himself from its warmth, promising to only be a minute.

“Take as long as you need to, gege.” Hua Cheng assured him, silently daring anyone else to disagree with a passing glance at Shi Qingxuan and He Xuan in the overhead mirror.

“Xie Lian, grab some extra things!” Shi Qingxuan called, rolling down the window on her side. He heard He Xuan complaining about her letting all the heat out as he stopped beside her, blinking as he leaned forward in order to hear her better over the wind pushing against him in freezing gusts.

“Sleepover tonight?” She explained, batting her lashes at him, and Xie Lian chuckled. He was spending more and more time away from home lately. At this point, he might as well try to find a place closer to his friends.

“Sounds good.” He nodded, catching the widening of her smile as he turned around and hurried up the rickety metal steps to his floor. He shuddered when he pulled the door open and stepped inside, shaking off flecks of snow from his borrowed coat as he shuffled out of it and hung it up by the entrance so he wouldn't forget to wear it going back to the car.

He tidied a little while he had the opportunity, then went to tend to an understandably dissatisfied Ruoye. She flicked her tongue impatiently at him as he opened the lid to her enclosure, allowing her to switch from a very sturdy tree limb to his arm, coiling around its length.

“You know, you would be much easier to bring along if you were a dog, or a cat. Or any small, fluffy mammal as a matter of fact.” He told her, in mockery of a stern tone. Her beady black eyes fixed themselves on his, unblinking.

Sometimes, he honestly thought she understood what he was saying—like E-Ming, she was an extremely intelligent specimen, comprehending the world around her. “This apartment is a bit large for a bachelor.” He murmured, as Ruoye quietly pressed her face against the top of his hand.

“What do you think? Should we pack it all up soon? Get a fresh start?” He asked, obviously acquiring no answer through words. She did, however, lift her head and peer back at him in what he thought might be intrigue.

Xie Lian smiled, coming to sit on the edge of his bed, still freshly made from a couple days prior. “Believe it or not, we have the money. I've been saving for years, and I might as well do something with it before it spontaneously combusts or is stolen. Don't you agree? I've never had much luck in keeping anything.” He reasoned to her. Although she had no real opinion, convincing himself that he had her approval somehow made the idea of taking action much less overwhelming and daunting.

Ruoye stared at him for a few moments more, then gazed longingly at the dead mice he had placed in her leafy habitat.

“Alright, alright.” He laughed, removing himself from the mattress to carefully lower Ruoye back where she belonged. Xie Lian moved about the room, gathering a bag of belongings to take to Shi Qingxuan's. He kept some of what was already in the little sack she had put together and sent via He Xuan, including a toothbrush, toothpaste and some other essentials.

He changed into a dark cream colored sweater and lighter gray jeans, paired with some of the warmest, most comfortable boots he owned. The further they went into the heart of the city, the more it was going to snow—he had seen on the weather channel (like an old man, Shi Qingxuan said) that a storm was supposed to travel her way and start piling up around eight.

If they wanted to get anything done, now was the time to do it; before they were all snowed in and the roads turned to ice.

Throwing on Hua Cheng's jacket over his cardigan and turtleneck combo, Xie Lian was effectively protected and prepared for the bracing winds that met him as soon as he stepped outdoors.

He still winced anyways as they whipped at his hair and exposed skin like knives, making his eyes water the moment he faced them head-on.

His vision was quite blurry by the last few stairs leading onto the pavement, wiping uselessly at his eyes as he pried open the passenger side door and melted into the embrace of heat awaiting him.

“Welcome back, gege. Did you get everything you need?” Hua Cheng asked, once he was properly situated and at no risk of freezing to death.

He dipped his head in reply, saying with chattering teeth, “It's gotten cold.”

Hua Cheng instantly lifted the arm that was resting leisurely on the storage compartment and turned up the heater, as well as the fan, and He Xuan groaned from behind Xie Lian, “You ass—I’m sweating like crazy back here!”

“You'll live.” Hua Cheng said with a thin smile. “And if you don't, that's also not particularly disheartening to me.”

“You—”

Xie Lian was about to get in the middle and play mediator between them when Shi Qingxuan joined the fray, shoving her hand in the gap separating the driver's and passenger's seat to show the two up front her phone.

“Look at this!” She tapped the screen, and Xie Lian's eyes dropped to the wide patch of dark blue at the center of intermixing, lighter hues. Allowing it to play and show its path, he couldn't help but wince.

“It may be the biggest blizzard this city has seen in years.” Shi Qingxuan added, and Xie Lian looked discreetly over at Hua Cheng to check his reaction.

He was surprisingly watching quite intently, and Xie Lian could almost see the gears turning in his head as he went over various solutions, ignoring the way He Xuan was practically breathing down his neck while he peered down at his partner's phone.

“San Lang,” Xie Lian began, as Hua Cheng sat back in his seat.

“We have a few hours before it reaches where we're going. At that point we'll probably be leaving, right?” Shi Qingxuan remarked.

“Do you feel comfortable driving in this?” Xie Lian voiced what they were all secretly wondering, and Hua Cheng, to his shock, only smiled calmly.

“Winter art exhibition in Yakutsk.” He said simply.

“Holy shit.” Shi Qingxuan exclaimed, and Xie Lian laughed as she stared at Hua Cheng with wide eyes and newfound respect.

If Hua Cheng had managed well enough in conditions as severe as that, this was very likely child's play to him. The only thing that would pose a potential threat was the lack of preparedness of those around them, but he had a feeling they were watching this phenomenon as closely as anyone else.

With all of them in favor of moving forward and pursuing their endeavors, they skirted the eye of the storm and arrived at their destination in one solid piece another twenty minutes later, Shi Qingxuan talking their ears off about the layout of the mall and what shops they should hit first.

Xie Lian was pleasantly taken aback when she sidled over to Hua Cheng as soon as they were out of the bitter cold, asking if he would come with her to look for clothes. He said nothing at first, gazing back at her without a word.

His lax gaze shifted to He Xuan, who was standing (with very poor posture) next to Shi Qingxuan. It was only for a moment, but Xie Lian thought he glimpsed a protectiveness in the striking golds of the man's eyes.

Something seemed to become clear in Hua Cheng's mind, because he nodded once, rather reluctantly, and she said happily,

“Thank you! Xie Lian's always going on and on about your fashion sense, so I thought you might be a dependable source.” She grinned, choosing then to bound over to the spluttering man in question.

Did she really have to say he went ‘on and on' about it…?

Hua Cheng watched them with folded arms and a Cheshire like grin as Shi Qingxuan whispered something next to Xie Lian's ear, his embarrassed flush creeping away as a sober frown replaced his trembling, anxious smile.

He shortly took Shi Qingxuan's hand in his, squeezing gently as his friend pulled away to smile at him, Xie Lian returning it with utmost sincerity.

Shi Qingxuan slowly withdrew, and he quietly released the hold he had on the other. “Lead the way!” Shi Qingxuan grinned, daring to link his arm with Hua Cheng's. He met Xie Lian's eyes, silently pleading with him for help, but Xie Lian shook his head, condemning the man to his fate.

“Gege…” Hua Cheng whined.

He was positive that Hua Cheng was playacting, but the sullen look on his face tugged at his heartstrings; it reminded him of a certain boy who also had a strong preference for red and took advantage of how easily his senior folded under the scrutiny of his puppy eyes.

Its effectiveness couldn't be helped, but he knew how much this meant to Shi Qingxuan. He had to stand his ground.

“I know nothing about clothes.” Xie Lian said with a small shrug.

He opted not to mention that he did offer the occasional opinion for an outfit of Shi Qingxuan's, usually for one of his videos, but those all came directly from his closet and had already been laid out.

He was just indecisive.

“Come on. I won't keep you long.” Shi Qingxuan urged, and with a bit more force, got Hua Cheng walking in the opposite direction. He had a stern air about him now, expression drawn like a soldier going into battle.

Xie Lian also wisely kept it to himself that Shi Qingxuan was often too swept up in his eagerness to fully appreciate the sanctity of time, and how easily it slipped by. An hour to Hua Cheng was more like a minute to Shi Qingxuan when he was surrounded on all four corners by his interests.

He watched as the pair made their way down the wide space of the mall's main aisle, Hua Cheng eventually pointing to a small, up-and-coming brand that wasn't too heavily populated by shoppers. He had been the one to suggest it, but it was Shi Qingxuan who tightened his grasp on the taller man's arm and all but dragged him through the doors with absurd strength.

They disappeared into the shop, leaving him and He Xuan well and truly alone together now that neither of them had the excuse of watching the retreating backs of their respective friends/partners/whatever they had become to each other over the last few months. Wow. This was…

“This is uncomfortable.” He Xuan said without warning.

Xie Lian's eyes darted over to him, battling both shock and admiration in his heart. The latter was fast to tip the scales as he dipped his head with a smile,

“It is, a bit.”

He Xuan grunted, and for almost a solid minute there was silence. It surprisingly didn't feel as heavy as before, as though an understanding had manifested itself between them.

This hadn't exactly gone how either of them had planned.

Soon, Xie Lian broke it by saying, “Are you hungry?”

He Xuan looked over at him suspiciously, but didn't complain when Xie Lian smiled warmly and gestured for him to follow his lead.

He was moving on instinct alone, trusting it to guide him. Having come to this very place too many times to count in his younger years, Xie Lian recognized the same pathways even if the scenery had changed.

Memories rushed by him, colorful and with a life all of their own, retaining pieces of days long gone, leading him to the same food court where he had sat with his two best friends and tuned himself out from their argumentative voices while he pored over a textbook. He could see them there in their signature booth, growing into themselves in the blink of an eye.

Distant laughter echoed in his mind as a passing glimpse of chocolate milk spurting out of Feng Xin's nostrils occupied that empty space, the boy choking and spluttering after some dumb joke Xie Lian had told him while Mu Qing shook his head at him in exasperated annoyance—

At the last second there was a spark of change, an instant where a fourth joined their circle, welcomed by his open arms. Fast as the wind, he brought with him a fierceness unlike anything Xie Lian had ever known.

Sometimes, their group of four became two, and Xie Lian set aside his study materials to engage in spirited conversation with the blurry figure across from him. He knew his name, he wouldn't ever forget it, but his face was more difficult to place. Like a scratched record that skipped certain parts, Xie Lian couldn't connect those shards together, couldn't make them fit into the picture he had drawn in an effort to replace what was lost.

Xie Lian came to a stop in front of an empty vendor, blinking at the wire net barring the windows and the shadows that filled its hollow interior.

Once, it had been so popular that it took nearly an hour just to get through the line and place an order. A quartet danced in and out of view in front of his eyes again, smearing together in discordant, lagging motion.

”I'm not waiting in that.” Feng Xin’s voice grumbled, as Mu Qing rolled his eyes.

He could see himself grimace slightly, and he knew that at that exact moment he was probably thinking, ‘I bet his eyes are sore from doing that so much.’

At his side, a lanky fourteen year old said impatiently, “Then leave.”

Barely stopping himself from smiling, the Xie Lian of both then and now gazed at the sign above the restaurant; one reading its name in emboldened letters, and the other taking in the ‘Closed Indefinitely' notice board.

The mall itself was emptier than it used to be, but he guessed that was to be expected when most people turned to the convenience of online shopping.

He Xuan's voice broke his quiet reverie, unimpressed, “Are we…meant to be eating here?” Something in the way he was watching him told him he didn't quite trust his judgement regarding food, though he couldn't imagine why.

Shaking his head, Xie Lian smiled to himself and began moving down the row, taking their various updated options into account.

When they had their trays laden with all sorts of junk they probably shouldn't be eating, Xie Lian slid into a booth—his old booth—and He Xuan sat across from him. Two regular chairs stood on the opposite side of the round table, somewhat sticky to the touch and impossible to clean.

For the first five minutes, He Xuan hardly paid any mind to him, too preoccupied with his meal to care for the world around him.

Xie Lian had drifted off into the pool of his ever growing nostalgia, absorbing the sounds of voices around him as people he would likely never see again flitted by unhurried, and couldn't help but jump a bit at the sound of He Xuan addressing him some time later, “Sorry this didn't go as planned.”

Thinking he hadn't heard him right, Xie Lian leaned back slightly, brows furrowed. He Xuan was messily slurping at a bowl of noodles, not looking at him. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and said, “Why're you staring?”

Xie Lian lightly cleared his throat, averting his eyes once only to curiously look back and find He Xuan meeting his gaze. “Nothing, I just…”

“I don't understand why you're apologizing?” Xie Lian explained, puzzled.

He Xuan tipped his dish to drink the remaining contents, refusing to leave a single drop. He set it back down with a clatter, and said as though it were the most obvious thing on earth, “You'd clearly rather be with your precious ‘San Lang' than in some dingy food court with me. I don't know if you've noticed, but you've been sulking for the last half an hour.”

“I, I wasn't—” Xie Lian tried to defend himself, though he quickly accepted that it was a hopeless affair. It was rather dingy, but he wouldn't have even noticed that if he'd been sitting there with Hua Cheng.

His shoulders slumped, and he avoided stealing any additional glances at He Xuan. “It isn't that I don't enjoy your company. You're right, though, I expected this to go a bit differently.” Admitting aloud his selfish desires to someone equally as uncivilized was oddly liberating, and He Xuan seemed to appreciate his honesty, offering him a rare smile.

“None taken. I did, too.” He Xuan shrugged.

Xie Lian raised his eyes, watching the other man as he picked up a sizable piece of chicken slathered in some spicy smelling sauce. He all but swallowed it in one bite, licking his fingertips clean afterwards.

How did he not choke?

“Right. Shi Qingxuan told me that…” Xie Lian didn't finish his sentence, picking up with something more productive, “You…were expecting to be helping him, I assume.”

“Not exactly. When he suggested inviting you and Hua Cheng, I had a feeling he would prefer his advice over mine in this scenario.” He Xuan picked at something he didn't recognize, prodding it with his chopsticks.

Xie Lian admired his nonchalant manner, even if it made it a difficult task to figure out when something was bothering him.

He Xuan sighed, “It doesn't upset me that he wants his help—if Hua Cheng wasn't an art major, he'd probably have his own clothing line. You'd have to be some special type of stupid to think you knew better than him.”

At once, something clicked. Smiling softly, Xie Lian reasoned calmly, “You don't mind that they're together, just that you aren't with him.”

It was an easy jump to make. After all, it was his one complaint about the situation. “When you love someone, what you're doing together doesn't always matter. It's the company that makes a difference, and if you're lacking it, you'll long for it in any way you can get it. Right?”

He expected He Xuan to say something grating to break apart the sappy mood, knowing the man was hardly one for philosophical conversation or unnecessary confessions of the heart.

Xie Lian had let his guard down, and he was not at all prepared for the tentativeness in He Xuan's voice as he stared at him with comically wide eyes and a slack jaw, “You…love Hua Cheng?”

Xie Lian felt himself going very, very still.

Like he had been submerged underwater, the cacophony of sound all around their secluded booth became grainy white noise he couldn't quite make out and define, and though he tried to draw in air to his aching lungs, they burned with his misplaced efforts.

The resulting sound of him sucking in a thready breath was pitiful to hear, the false smile on his lips even more so to see, “That, ah, that isn't—”

His quickening heartbeat paced at a hundred miles an hour in the confines of his chest cavity, and he knew he was a single misstep away from drowning in the budding panic building inside of him. He needed to fix this.

Heat pooled into his cheeks and cold sweat soaked the back of his neck, dampening the skin of his hand when he went to shakily touch there, searching for an anchor of any kind to weigh him down, tie him to reality.

“Of course I…I care for him.” Xie Lian amended in a flat tone that sounded so unlike himself, even he found his act abysmally see through.

A cracked mask made of aged clay by weary, unfit hands.

“No,” He Xuan shook his head once. He had never met his gaze with such unwavering focus and intent, and Xie Lian was trapped beneath it, a butterfly pinned to a board and still feebly beating its wings in protest.

“You're in love with him.” He leaned forward then, eyes narrowing. His hands were clasped together, digits flexing and clenching, then loosening to dispel the tension rippling through him.

Xie Lian couldn't breathe.

The truth he had barely acknowledged alone and without an eager spectator was now being laid bare, and his lack of coordination in picking himself up off the floor without stumbling was making the odds of salvaging anything an impossible feat. He Xuan was Hua Cheng's brother; maybe not by blood, but they were family. When He Xuan walked into that apartment, he must have known that Hua Cheng was waiting for his beloved to come home, too.

That his being there was a means of filling that gap, staunching the flow of blood from a wound that would not seal until it was stitched together by that irreplaceable, special person in Hua Cheng's heart.

It was exactly what made this such a harrowing situation. He Xuan knew, whether he admitted it aloud or not. He had condemned himself in his silence, in his lame redirection of the man's words.

“He Xuan,” Xie Lian's voice was small and pleading. “Please, you can't say anything to—”

“You have to tell him.” He Xuan interrupted, and there was equal parts disbelief and finality in those words, like he couldn't comprehend that he was really saying them. Xie Lian swallowed thickly, leaning as far away as he possibly could while still sitting on the firm cushion of the booth.

“...What? What good is there in—?”

“He-Xiong! A-Lian!”

Xie Lian, whose back was to the approaching pair, couldn't help but stiffen where he sat in the booth Shi Qingxuan was now leaning over. His curly hair draped down, almost brushing his cheek as he slowly turned to face him.

“Qingxuan,” Xie Lian greeted with a shaky smile, peering past his friend's shoulder to find Hua Cheng coming to stand next to him. His rapid heartbeat and the sick, sinking feeling of nausea that weighed in his stomach like a rock wasn't helped by the natural way the man's lips curved into a smile at the sight of him, knowing he couldn't have any clue what sort of conversation had just transpired between himself and his roommate.

Who knew how long that would last? He didn't think He Xuan was the gossiping type, but if it was in regards to Hua Cheng—could Xie Lian honestly expect him not to eventually pass along what he knew?

When Hua Cheng came around to the other side of the table, his arms laden with what were presumably Shi Qingxuan's bags, Xie Lian had an excuse to fix his attention on He Xuan as the productive results of their shopping were dumped unceremoniously in front of his pile of empty dishes.

“You owe me back that fifteen percent.” Hua Cheng claimed mildly, taking the empty spot next to Xie Lian as though he'd always been there.

He Xuan's face remained carefully blank, even as a fine brow twitched in annoyance, his steely gaze burning holes into his companion's skin.

Thankfully he couldn't aim those death rays at Hua Cheng for long enough to cause permanent damage, as Shi Qingxuan was fast to plop down into the chair beside him, eagerly rifling through his haul and showing off his favorite pieces.

Xie Lian had (for the most part) gotten used to Hua Cheng's easy closeness, no matter how it stirred up feelings he was afraid to bring to light, but there was something different about this.

Somehow, sitting here with him, in this place, at this booth…

It felt so familiar.

Like they had done this before, too many times to count. Stranger still was the way Hua Cheng leaned forward with his cheek propped up on his closed hand, paying little attention to Shi Qingxuan's eager rambling and praise of his taste in apparel in favor of staring listlessly towards the food court.

Xie Lian had started to ask him if he might want something to eat when he followed the path of Hua Cheng's gaze, right to the closed down restaurant he had initially stopped at with He Xuan.

He could almost see the swath of memory burning in the dark glow of his iris, that silent, pleading yearning for the past as it had once been, but he couldn't place where it could be coming from.

Hua Cheng, often so in tune to his surroundings and even more so to him, did not immediately perceive the intensity of Xie Lian's eyes upon him. It was by chance that he seemingly grew bored of observing the gated up entrance and returned his focus to the one beside him and saw how keenly he was being surveyed, eye widening slightly in surprise.

For once, Xie Lian wasn't alone in his embarrassment—as his face flooded with an uncomfortable, searing warmth, he could see the ivory of pale cheeks blossom with a pink hue. “Gege?” Hua Cheng questioned quietly, the longer it took for Xie Lian to avert his gaze. At least he didn't appear bothered, but he couldn't put into words how mortifying it was to be caught in the act of openly trying to dissect someone's thoughts.

Fighting his instinct to create a diversion and avoid the true nature of his curiosity, Xie Lian instead questioned boldly, “That place—does San Lang know it? I saw him looking there before.”

Hua Cheng blinked, taken aback. He lifted his head and offered a small nod, sitting up straighter as he turned to fully face him. “Mn. If I'm remembering right, it was a pretty local business. They made traditional Hmong dishes.”

After a moment, he added softly, “I went there a handful of times when I was a bit younger. It's been a while since I last visited, so I was a little disappointed to see that it was no longer open.” Hua Cheng explained, and in his subdued tone, Xie Lian could hear the echo of a youth saying,

”My mother was Hmong. She was a really good cook, too—this doesn't compare, but it's still nice to eat meals like this again.”

He felt his heart kick in his chest, recognizing the longing in the man's voice.

Xie Lian had nearly mustered the courage to ask Hua Cheng about his own experience when a loud eruption of cheers broke out from what sounded like the first floor of the mall.

The bubble around them popped, and Hua Cheng looked silently in the direction of the commotion without moving to see what it was. He Xuan hadn't been disturbed in the slightest, busying himself with another bowl of noodles, but Shi Qingxuan had leapt from his seat and rushed over to the railing and tipped forward slightly to exclaim, “They've started again!”

“Started what?” Xie Lian asked, intrigued.

When he made to get up, he could feel Hua Cheng's presence close behind as he stopped next to Shi Qingxuan, who was eagerly bouncing on the the tips of his shoes in an attempt to get a better look at the proceedings below.

Whatever it was, it had drawn quite a crowd. One so big in fact, that he couldn't tell what he was supposed to be seeing until he spotted a color coded group at the center of the madness, all boasting flashy sports uniforms.

“Racing!” Shi Qingxuan beamed. “Every half an hour, a new round starts—the kids from the highschool near here are holding a fundraiser.” He explained, as Xie Lian leaned in, squinting.

That uniform…

“Oh,” He Xuan slouched next to Shi Qingxuan, eyes fixed on the same point as Xie Lian's. “Those are my old school colors. On the flags they're waving. Must be the track team, if they're holding races. They do it every year.”

Xie Lian and Hua Cheng both glanced over at him in the same instant, each wearing a very different expression. Surprised, Xie Lian laughed aloud, “Really? Mine, too. I didn't know you also went there.”

He Xuan nodded once, ignoring the burn of Hua Cheng's menacing scowl in favor of sipping at his cooling coffee. Reaching back to set it down on the table, he stated in a placid tone of voice, “So did Hua Cheng.”

Oh, if looks could kill.

Shi Qingxuan's wide eyes swept across the lot of them, mouth slightly ajar.

“Why am I suddenly the odd one out here? Am I really the only one who went to a private school? I thought you all were loaded at some point.”

Perhaps luckily for He Xuan, Hua Cheng abandoned his eager attempts to sear his roommate's flesh with the power of glaring alone when Xie Lian turned to face him. He stilled at the strange, searching look on Xie Lian's face, and for one terrifying moment, he seemed to dread whatever it was that he might say next.

“San Lang, you…when did you—?”

It couldn't be—

There was a brief pause in which Hua Cheng met his gaze without speaking, like he was stumped for once. Hua Cheng, who could answer any question he asked in the blink of an eye, carefully considering his next words.

“In my senior year.” Hua Cheng spoke calmly—too calmly, one might argue.

Like he knew he was on a tightrope, that each step he took could be nothing less than perfectly executed, lest he plummet down towards the unknowable abyss inches beneath his feet. What he failed to realize was his company, that he did not stand alone there—and that as he persevered, Xie Lian's heart sank the instant his budding hopes were diminished, squashed to nothing.

“That's unlucky.” Xie Lian managed to say, just barely keeping his voice from wavering towards the end. His automatic smile felt strained, like it didn't really belong on his face and was poorly fitted.

Hua Cheng cracked a smile of his own, though it scarcely reached his eyes. It gave Xie Lian a strange, empty feeling, being the direct recipient of what he could tell was a kindness meant to soften the blow of hurt.

Xie Lian had only ever seen him look at someone that way when he was approached at Qingxuan's shop by the nice, optimistic sort. The people who knew they didn't have a chance but struck up a conversation anyway, purely for the sake of being able to say that they'd tried and wouldn't have regrets.

It was a gentle warning, a flag raised with the embedded words, ‘You won't find what you're looking for here, I'm sorry.’ An apology.

It wouldn't hurt half as much if he knew the reason for it—why Hua Cheng didn't just say outright that he had no intention of giving him the key to that door. If he did, maybe Xie Lian would stop sitting outside of it, twiddling his thumbs and expecting it to magically open, leaning down to try and glimpse what was beyond it from the crack of light underneath.

Stupid, so stupid—

Had he honestly been putting this much stock into his whole ‘Hua Cheng is Hong'er' theory?

Enough to be legitimately disappointed and bewildered by its falling out?

Forget theory, it was barely a hypothesis.

Xie Lian had a mediocre memory, sure.

He wouldn't claim that his old test scores were the result of freakish talent in recalling impossible details, not when he knew for a fact that it came down to hard work and resources most didn't have—but regarding this?

Now, he wasn't positive that it had been anything other than desperation.

There were similarities.

Hair color, overall complexion—check. Plenty of people had dark hair and light skin, though. What use was that to anyone?

For all Xie Lian knew, Hua Cheng rocked a tan in the warmer months.

Moving on, then.

Similar taste in foods. A strong stomach, if Hong'er's being able to tolerate his mother's celebration dinner of his graduation alongside his peers was a source worth citing. That night, Feng Xin didn't leave the bathroom until four in the morning, and Mu Qing filled up a trash bag with vomit, looking closer to death's hungry claws with each successive emptying of his guts.

Hong'er had seconds and thirds, which Xie Lian's mother encouraged with a beaming smile, suggesting he have fourth helpings—she’d been trying to fatten that kid up all seven something months she knew him.

His own culinary skills were abysmal, and he was more than aware of that.

Xie Lian had woken up briefly this morning to the sound of He Xuan gagging in the kitchen, and there was no questioning the reason.

He'd half expected Hua Cheng to be looking worse for wear when he stepped out of the bathroom, wondering if maybe the side effects of his cooking simply hadn't hit the man's system yet. Instead, he was practically glowing from a good night's sleep and lightly flushed from a hot shower as he sat down willingly with another serving of his congee, the picture of health.

Both were interested in art. Anytime he saw Hong'er on his own during free periods (or ignoring lectures) he was folded over his sketchbook and often didn't notice him approaching, which gave him the chance to curiously peer over his shoulder and get a look at what he was working on.

Xie Lian had been a favorite subject of his, he remembered. He hadn't thought much of it, aside from being flattered, but it had clearly meant something to Hong'er. When he finally announced himself, clearing his throat and sliding into the chair next to him, the younger boy snapped the sketchbook shut with comically wide eyes and blotchy red cheeks.

He'd never gotten a good look at Hua Cheng's drawings, and there was surely a gap in skill despite Hong'er's being incredibly impressive, not just for his age, but anyone's, so he couldn't easily compare them. He thought, more than once, that they had a rather similar expression while focused.

Always wearing a faint smile, wielding their pencils firmly as they made delicate, practiced strokes across the paper. Like they were capturing something precious, something dear, a masterpiece that couldn't be rushed.

On that note, sinful handwriting not even a saint could cleanse.

It had surprised him when he first witnessed the angry pen marks that hardly made visible characters on Hong'er's poor, thoroughly abused homework— for someone so inclined towards the arts, he would have thought he might have decent penmanship, but it looked more like a graphic expression of violence on the side of a train than actual sentences belonging to a language.

From what little he had seen in Hua Cheng's notes, they matched stylistically; the words he inked were shaky and unsure, as though he was trying his hardest to write with some clarity. For his efforts, they could be made out with some patient squinting and slotting inscrutable lines together with a general idea of what his message was.

In a way, he enjoyed the enrichment of it, like cracking a cipher.

He wasn't sure Hua Cheng would take that as a compliment.

The next was a bit of a stretch, but up close, he had noticed how Hua Cheng's nose appeared slightly crooked down the middle.

Either a deviated septum or a clean break—Xie Lian favored the latter, not because he enjoyed the idea of Hua Cheng having gone through that pain, but because it gave his running hypothesis a bit more depth.

He knew a fair amount about anatomy, courtesy of his mother; how the body responded to trauma, especially in places it couldn't be easily mended.

Xie Lian recalled the day he led Hong'er into the holding room of his mother and father's old house, the youth's nostrils clogged with tissues, blood staining the front of his shirt. He had never really thought about how level headed Hong'er was until the boy was sitting in his car with a broken nose, having hardly made a peep of pain during or after the fight.

Rather than the stress of his injury, he was upset about his loss. Initially he figured it had been more of a blow to his pride than anything else, but when he saw the way Hong'er's eyes followed his younger companions until they were safely indoors, he realized that was not even close to the truth.

He was frustrated because he had lost on their behalf. That he, in his opinion at least, had failed to protect them. In Xie Lian's, it was a testament to his courage that he tried at all, knowing his odds of winning were slim.

Willingly, unhesitatingly, putting himself in danger for someone else.

Brave.

Last, but certainly not least, was the curious matter of their eyes.

It had perturbed Xie Lian ever since he met Hua Cheng, an undeniable link, yet something that was the most difficult of all to make sense of.

The memories were fuzzy by now, but it had always stuck with him how little Hong'er's face had been half hidden by bandages. His reasoning for covering a deformity was (to Xie Lian) undermined when he explained on the day of their reunion that he'd done so because of a mere difference in color.

Aside from telling Hong'er that he thought it must be a sight to behold, he tried not to push him too much on the matter.

He never did show Xie Lian what it looked like, and he didn't encourage him to, knowing how deeply Hong'er's insecurities with it ran.

In Hua Cheng's case, he knew virtually nothing about the right eye that he always kept hidden behind a patch. Other than being on the same side, Xie Lian couldn't come up with a decent connection.

Hong'er wore contacts every day, not because of poor vision, but to conceal what he perceived as a flaw. He even told him once that he avoided an eye patch because he didn't want it to become a topic of discussion among their peers. Unless Hua Cheng had a very drastic change of heart (and was in fact Hong'er) it was more likely he had it due to an injury.

Frustrated by the lack of a conclusion and a more promising lead, Xie Lian attempted to steer his thoughts in another direction. What did it matter if Hua Cheng was or wasn't who he assumed him to be?

It didn't change the nature of their friendship now.

If he wasn't Hong'er, it made his extensive knowledge of Xie Lian slightly more concerning, but so far he had never gotten the impression that Hua Cheng had anything except good intentions towards him.

Always skilled at breaking the ice, Shi Qingxuan put in with a cheerful smile Xie Lian could see was betrayed somewhat by his nerves, “Why don't we go check things out downstairs? Maybe we could put our names in the raffle.”

When his suggestion was met with no complaints (except for a low grumble from He Xuan) the group of four cleaned up their mess of belongings and trash, then started making their way to the escalators.

As Xie Lian descended the final steps behind Shi Qingxuan and He Xuan, his eyes drifted towards Hua Cheng. Nothing except for the barely there furrow in his brow implied something off in his countenance, and it made Xie Lian wonder what had troubled him so deeply, when the most invasive aspect of their conversation had been He Xuan outing his attendance at his old school.

He really didn't think that continuing to press Hua Cheng for more information would do any good, but even if he had wanted to, he wouldn't have been able—as soon as they made it to the outskirts of the clamoring crowd, He Xuan dragged Hua Cheng aside by the arm and called over his shoulder, “We’ll be right back. I'm going to figure out how to enter.”

Shi Qingxuan blinked after them, looking at Xie Lian when the pair disappeared into the throes of eager onlookers, “Huh. I've never seen A-Xuan take initiative like that.” He said, and when his words were met by Xie Lian's slow nod of agreement, he rolled his shoulders in a shrug.

“Should we mingle?”

He Xuan only let go of Hua Cheng when he had managed to pull him far enough to be both out of view and earshot, his words drowned out slightly by the volume of noise coming from all directions, “What are you doing.”

Hua Cheng met his gaze, unperturbed, deceivingly at his leisure and saying without a sense of urgency, “Was that meant to have a question mark at the end of it? Would you like to try again?”

He Xuan didn't rise to the bait this time; he knew exactly what Hua Cheng was doing. Overcompensating with clever remarks, trying to rile him up like an idiot so he would forget his real purpose in confronting him.

He could see the tight line of Hua Cheng's shoulders, strung like a bowstring about to crack under pressure. Most people would be frightened of this silent display of power. It was unpredictable, violent when it surged past the barriers Hua Cheng held up, but to He Xuan, it was only saddening.

Hua Cheng's ability to hide his true feelings on something was enviable, but he was also God awful at regulating them, keeping them in check to begin with and ensuring they didn't get the better of him in private.

Now he was drowning in them, punishing himself for finding an excuse he could see He Xuan was about to mercilessly point out.

“You had a chance to tell him.” He Xuan began without a preamble. “Why are you making this harder than it needs to be?”

He didn't miss Hua Cheng's small flinch or the way he drew himself in slightly, like he was trying to make himself a harder target to hit.

He Xuan knew that Hua Cheng didn't expect such a thing from him, and suspected it had more to do with being cornered in a tight spot—one he was actively attempting to squeeze himself out of.

“It isn't the right time.” Hua Cheng replied slowly. Firmly. Precariously fitting a fragile puzzle piece into its proper place.

The only issue here was that all of the fragments looked the same except for their subtle jagged edges, and a wrong move would send cracks down the surface of the facade he had expertly carved for He Xuan's benefit.

One such crack appeared the second He Xuan scowled, “Yeah, right. You said the same damn thing when you were waiting like a pussy in that booth for months, when you could have gone up there and given him your number yourself. All that ‘wrong numbers calling me' bullshit—”

“I didn't lie.” Hua Cheng cut in sharply, the severe look on his face containing the raw power necessary to shut up one marine biology student in the middle of a spiel. He Xuan could see written all over his expression ‘I wouldn't do that to him', and felt the sudden urge to be sick.

“You know that.”

He Xuan sighed inwardly.

Yes, yes, he knew that—Yin Yu complained day in and day out about all the suspicious activity pointed in the direction of Hua Cheng's work phone (often left ignored in his office), he could only imagine how bothersome it would be if his personal information was targeted as well.

With that in mind, he wondered when exactly Hua Cheng planned on coming clean about running a gambling enterprise in the underbelly of the city.

Had Xie Lian seriously not questioned why he had so much free time?

Maybe he had, and simply didn't care enough to pry—they really were perfect for eachother, skirting around the bush and putting themselves under the illusion that everything was hunky dory.

“It still makes it a lie of omission.” He Xuan pointed out coolly, taking private satisfaction in watching Hua Cheng bristle across from him. He tended to, when someone challenged his sneaky loopholes.

Which was always He Xuan.

“You're leaving him in the dark, reassuring yourself by promising to explain things eventually, but we both know how that will come about. Accidentally, spur of the moment, and not a script drafted by you. Do you want that?” He asked, lowering his voice when a couple people passed them—thankfully they were too absorbed in their own conversation to worry about what a pair of strangers were doing in a shady mall corner.

Hua Cheng hadn't interrupted him, which should have been enough of an indicator of his train of thought currently on a fast track to derailing.

When he spoke, it was only to say quietly, “No.”

“Then why—”

“If I tell him too soon, he won't…” Hua Cheng's lips slotted together in a tight line, slowly parting to let his next words escape in a flat, toneless voice, “He'll know exactly how terribly I've failed him.”

A silence fell between them, tense from Hua Cheng's end and bewildered on his own. “What are you saying? In what way have you…?” He Xuan trailed off, hoping he would elaborate, but there was nothing to follow up on.

Irritably, He Xuan pressed, “Whatever it is, how much worse do you think it's going to be when he inevitably finds out for himself? He acts like one, but he's not an idiot. He pays so much attention to you, it's honestly surprising he doesn't have a drawer on all your personal information, even the secrets you intend to take to the grave. You're both fucked up for eachother.”

He Xuan could count on one hand how many times in the last decade he'd witnessed Hua Cheng speechless, not just from anger and stubbornness, but due to a real lack of snappy comeback. In this instance, he sized He Xuan up with a narrowed, suspicious eye, as though he were some strange creature he'd heard of only in storybooks and never seen out in the wild.

It hit He Xuan what was probably running through his mind before Hua Cheng could verbalize it, and he said in a deadpan, “You actually don't know.”

This seemed to be some kind of trigger to reality, because Hua Cheng suddenly drew himself up and stepped closer, a thick curtain of black hair falling with his movements and obscuring them both as he leaned forward,

“Know what?”

He Xuan stared at him in disbelief. Shit. He really didn't.

“First, before I tell you what is apparently very valuable, obscure information—ten percent more off my debt.”

Hua Cheng smiled thinly. “Or you can not tell me, and your fish tank will have magically disappeared next trash day.”

Damn. It was worth a shot.

“Fuck, man—you aren't just playing dumb? You seriously don't know—?”

”He Xuan.”

“To put it as gently as possible, I was expecting a happy announcement of your marriage and my eviction notice by the end of the month.”

Hua Cheng blinked, or He Xuan assumed he did, judging by the fast fluttering movement of his one visible eye. Most of the frustration had melted off his face, replaced by wary confusion. “My marriage to…”

”Xie Lian!” He Xuan emphasized, exasperated. “Who else is there?”

Something He Xuan knew Hua Cheng detested more than anything was not comprehending on the first try, and this remained true as he attempted to see He Xuan's line of reasoning without asking for further clarification.

Evidently his intelligence didn't extend to his own love life, and he stood in front of him with a put-up on frown, the cogs churning sluggishly through a landmine of insecurities so deep he couldn't parse the realness of his selfish desires coming to fruition— all without his knowledge.

A stab of pity warred with the cruel amusement in his heart. As badly as he wanted to take out his phone and record this legendary reaction and make a family heirloom from it, Hua Cheng would sooner cremate himself than inquire more on such a delicate matter. So, he explained in a taciturn, uninterested manner that was sure to either irk, console, or both,

“You've been talking to him on the phone for a couple weeks, and since then, according to Qingxuan, have had him up past his ten o'clock bedtime every night waiting for a message from you. In your first meeting, which was supposed to last a couple hours, not only did you go grocery shopping with him to make dinner, but you successfully led him back to your apartment and fell asleep with him on the couch. Now, you're at the mall with him, and he's wearing a ring you made. Yeah, I noticed that.”

Despite the subtle reddening of his earlobes, Hua Cheng replied airily, “Good for you, making halfway decent observations for once. But I still don't see how any of that would lead you to make dramatic assumptions.”

“You're kidding me,” He Xuan said humorlessly. “Only you could be this dense about him. The point is—it took months for him to do even half of that with Qingxuan. He's pretty closed off and doesn't let anyone in, even though he's nice on the surface. With you, it's like…he hears you're involved, or that you're interested in something, and jumps on it. He's been curious about you since the first time he saw you.”

He Xuan watched as Hua Cheng's brows rose high on his forehead, then fell into that infuriatingly cautious furrow he was beginning to grow exhausted of in this conversation. He could only take so much.

“Just talk to him, he's obviously worried about all of this. Clear up the misunderstanding before it becomes something you can't take back. Whatever it is you're so worried about, it won't make any difference if you distance yourselves and lose the opportunity completely.”

He could see that Hua Cheng was finally gathering the key notes of their exchange and probably privately admitting to himself that he wasn't blowing smoke up his ass for the sake of laughing at his plights.

Even if he didn't say so aloud.

All he received for his efforts was a reluctant but solid nod of the head from Hua Cheng, and He Xuan breathed out a long exhale. “Great. Let's go figure out where the hell we sign up for this crap. Why did I agree to do this?”

“You’re really wrapped around his finger. Might I be expecting a happy announcement and an empty room by the end of the month? I would be very much in compliance with that arrangement.” Hua Cheng gave him a half smile when He Xuan turned to roll his eyes, retaliating swiftly,

“I’d be getting shacked up before you. Shocker. By the look of your locker shrine in highschool, I would have thought it might have happened forever ago. I guess fate works in mysterious ways.”

Chapter Text

Xie Lian didn't think ‘mingling’ was a great plan when half of their party was missing in action, but he supposed they'd all be meeting up in the same place if He Xuan was going to put their names in for a race. Shi Qingxuan found his way to a long table where a few youths were sitting, handing out plain white t-shirts and red shorts to candidates signing up.

One administrator dragged a tote stocked with proper running shoes of various sizes out from beneath the booth when it became clear that the vast majority of participants were wearing boots, handing them out with an exasperated smile. Xie Lian heard her turn to the boy next to her and grumble, “Seriously, doing this in the middle of December…couldn't we have just had another arm wrestling competition?” He was privately agreeing in his mind when the sound of a familiar voice made him take a closer look at her companion, who had shifted in his chair to reply,

“Yeah, no kidding. But it kept getting pushed back until now. We had to resort to relying on you know who just so we could get funding…”

Xie Lian squinted. Was that...Lang Qianqiu?

“He's not Lord Voldemort. I think you can say his name.” The girl snorted, and Lang Qianqiu moved in closer, hunching over slightly as he slipped into a very passionate debate with her on why whoever he had mentioned did in fact have the capacity to be a dark wizard with an obsession over an orphan. Xie Lian stopped directly in front of him, Shi Qingxuan at his side with his hands on his hips and a disapproving brow raised,

“So this is what you requested a vacation day for? Aren't you supposed to be out of the city right now? What do you take me for, huh? You could have just said you'd be here!”

The only way to properly describe the sound Lang Qianqiu made was a field mouse being caught in a trap and then released just to be stepped on by a heavy boot.

“Shi Qingxuan!” He laughed awkwardly, looking as though he'd rather be anywhere else. Glancing over at Xie Lian so he wouldn't have to answer to his employer's judgemental stare, Lang Qianqiu's bright amber eyes widened in clear surprise. “Xie Lian. I didn't think you'd be here!”

That wasn't shocking to hear from him. Xie Lian kept himself from outwardly grimacing and settled for redirecting the squeamish shame to his stomach, where it churned unpleasantly with tireless vigor. Shi Qingxuan, gracious as ever, didn't voice the curiosity Xie Lian could feel simmering beneath the surface of the man's skin.

As far as Shi Qingxuan had been made aware, Xie Lian and Lang Qianqiu didn't know eachother well. Despite having been coworkers for a decent chunk of time, there was a bit of an age gap, and their sparse conversations often revolved around the mundane. Certainly nothing that would give Lang Qianqiu the leverage on his life to know about where he should and shouldn't be on his days off.

But, they did have one thing in common, and that was their heavy participation in school sports. Seeing as he'd been running into more and more people from his past, previously guarded like a criminal and kept under lock and key, there was also suddenly an influx of those saying (some without ever uttering the words; their startled and sometimes disappointed faces said all that was necessary) ‘You’re that Xie Lian? The Xie Lian whose name is written on a gold plaque for his achievements? The Xie Lian who crashed and burned in the real world?’

Recently, Lang Qianqiu's fundraising efforts had been brought up as they went about menial tasks in the shop, and somehow, it had turned to his personal history at Xianle high. He had kept his tale clipped and to the point, answered his questions about to the degree of someone being interrogated for theft, and they had moved on.

He was only just now remembering that Lang Qianqiu had suggested he come and see what they were doing at the mall, to show some ‘school spirit.’

Had he blocked it out to the point of forgetting?

Highly likely. He had his reasons, however.

Every year, he received an invitation in the mail with his old high school logo printed to the front of a thick letter.

Each time, without fail, he would quietly run his fingers along the soft grooves of the signature elegant red and gold wax seal, and then stuff it in his bedside drawer, never to be opened. It had been no different when he got the latest one.

Based on the contents of the original, delivered about a year after his graduation, he assumed they would continue to prompt the same thing; that he should come to watch and act as a host. Despite it being a formal address, it had been written to him from the existing track team, some of which graduated alongside him or had a couple years left to go.

He remembered very little aside from that and a brief mention that Hong'er had been contacted as well.

Xie Lian wondered if he ended up going.

He allowed himself a small smile in reply, not wanting to come off cold. “I am too, a little bit. It's strange to see that our school still does these races. But, also nice. Have you been getting a good turnout? It was hard to get through with how packed it is.”

Lang Qianqiu beamed at him, none the wiser of the guilt pricking at his conscience, “Oh, yeah. We have a pretty well known benefactor backing us, too, so it's drawn a lot more popularity to the event than usual. Although, I think that's because people are hoping to get autographs or see him run…”

Xie Lian blinked. Was there a sports celebrity sponsor or something? “Really? You’ve got someone on your team like that?”

Somewhere between ‘well known' and ‘benefactor’ his mind had conjured up the mental image of a flashy young face with an even flashier wallet, and he was not at all prepared for Lang Qianqiu to scrunch his brows in confusion and say, puzzled, “I mean, he used to be. Hong'er? You two were like, super close, right? I was still in middle school when he was a freshman. Or, senior, technically. I went and saw a few of your races, remember? We talked about it at work. You guys are the legacy, so I was excited when you said you’d think about coming. I'm sure if anyone knew you were here or recognized you, you'd get swarmed.”

His rambling slowed to a trickle, and he leaned forward to say in a quieter voice, “Honestly, I’d give yourself a fake name. Just in case, you know...”

When Xie Lian only stared, bewildered and in disbelief at the revelation that displaced, introverted Hong'er had somehow turned himself into a successful entrepreneur, Lang Qianqiu added for extra emphasis, “You look, uh, like you didn't know. I thought maybe you would, since you came with him? You guys reunited recently, so I figured he'd have…” He cautiously trailed off as Xie Lian's expression of befuddlement turned visibly sour, like he was on a particularly bumpy rollercoaster and was fighting the urge to vomit.

Since he…came with him. Came with him.

Shi Qingxuan, who had been listening on in abject horror and aggressively signaling with his hands for Lang Qianqiu to stop talking, was now running them through his curls wearily. Lang Qianqiu shrunk in his seat, no longer conveying the boundless energy of a lion—in its place was a meek cub. “I just thought—we send a letter to both of you every year. A couple of them mentioned he'd started going by a different name. Hua Cheng. Did you not…read them?”

Xie Lian felt as if his entire body had been strapped down in a coffin weighed by heavy stones, and after several beats of silence, he could feel his eyes itching from not blinking.

He said nothing.

He didn't think he could—his brain was processing information so quickly that his heart was unable to catch up, sinking lower and lower while simultaneously lifting, a feather refusing to lay still on the ground, fluttering hopefully at the smallest of breezes, or in this case, a gust so powerful it threatened to tear it to shreds.

Not for the first time, he was struck by the most peculiar desire to laugh when he knew it was entirely inappropriate, even as dry heat built behind his eyes, stemming from ducts so ground down from disuse they failed to produce the slightest hint of wetness.

Battling valiantly with the sharp sting of hurt was a happiness unlike any other, filling him from head to toe like a golden spring, and it warred ferociously with the sickening pain and simultaneous relief of knowing he had been right all along. That his very first notion, that initial impression, that embedded feeling of overwhelming familiarity which had no sensible explanation, wasn't just a silent prayer made in the depths of his disillusioned mind.

And while he could get over that inevitable barrier of shock, the one that came with having to shed light on his lighthearted friendship with Hong'er and the deeper affection he knew he held for Hua Cheng, it was his unwillingness to accept that he was hearing all of this for the first time from someone other than him that was proving especially difficult to overcome.

He…really couldn't make sense of it.

All this time, long before he'd had a real foundation for his inkling that he'd met Hua Cheng prior to their fateful encounter in Qingxuan's shop…

Hua Cheng had known exactly who he was.

Why else would he have approached him? Why had it been so easy for him to treat him like a friend from the very beginning, if it wasn't because he hadn't ever stopped considering him one? Why would he know things no one should, things no one cared to find out? Things even he overlooked, deeming them unworthy and useless.

Why hadn't he told him?

No, he was to blame as well. Those letters!

Of course they'd have exactly what he needed to know, and hadn't even been given a passing glance. He almost wanted to laugh at how absurd it was, that his luck had locked away his desire to search for clues where he knew they existed.

The instant he began harboring suspicions about Hua Cheng's identity, he should have torn them open. Beyond the occasional newspaper he picked up that detailed the more exciting happenings at his old school, those invitations had been his only surviving connection to his shared past with Hong'er. A peek into a world no longer belonging to him, giving precious little pieces, updates on the lives of those who had touched him so dearly.

Being overseas, thousands of miles away, joy came in the shape of letters addressed personally to him from Hong'er himself. He encouraged the sweet, so-called ‘boring’ renditions of his week, no matter how Hong'er detested writing them out in his messy scrawl.

If he knew it would make Xie Lian happy (something he had, admittedly, capitalized on every once in a while to get Hong'er to keep practicing on his own) he would do it.

Every now and again there were beautiful, detailed drawings of the new places he visited, and Xie Lian, who knew his own kindergarten level art couldn't compare, captured the world around him with the camera that had been gifted to him for Christmas. Going to have them printed became a ritual he looked forward to, an interlude of calm in the messy, disorderly chaos of his new life.

He lost count of how many updates they sent each other over the course of two years, but he remembered the last word for word. About a month and a half after his birthday wishes to his friend had gone unanswered, Hong'er explained in a hastily written message that he wouldn't be able to write back again for some time due to personal business needing to be taken care of, and that it was better for him to keep their contact minimal. He kept the finer points obscure, but promised to write again when he could.

Xie Lian wouldn't have ever faulted him for being busy, but why a sixteen year old was acting like he was currently held at gunpoint and needed to sever their line of communication to stay alive, he never received an answer even after multiple queries. He stopped hearing from Hong'er, and eventually came to terms with the facts. This wasn't a crime show—Hong’er had likely just decided for himself that he'd prioritize his future. But to make him needlessly wonder if he was okay didn't seem like him at all.

The part of himself that suspected something bigger was going on behind the scenes was too afraid to envision Hong'er in danger, and he deluded himself into believing he'd simply moved on. It wasn't long before he was so wrapped up in the wreck of his own life falling to pieces around him that he was forced to as well. As much as he felt he'd been gently steered away from the facts by Hua Cheng, too, Xie Lian couldn't paint him as a liar.

He almost admired his tact, especially earlier. ’In my senior year’...hah. How dense was he? Was he turning senile?

Really, though, he'd had every opportunity to admit who he was, and he'd avoided it like the black plague would seal him in his early grave if he didn't. There had to be a good reason—Hua Cheng wouldn't have deceived him otherwise.

He and Hong'er were one and the same, and…well.

He was never a great actor.

How the times changed.

He could feel the start of a smile working its way onto his mouth, tugging at the corners unnaturally, and Shi Qingxuan chose that moment to put in tentatively, “Ahahaha, A-Lian…uhm, you're making an odd face…it's a bit scary. Are you okay?”

“Oh,” Xie Lian lightly cleared his throat, hiding his widening grin behind his closed palm, “Sorry, yes. I'm alright. I was just thinking that San Lang has gotten much sneakier.”

Shi Qingxuan peered at him in clear concern, green-blue eyes wide and sceptical. “That's what was on your mind? Why'd you look like you were picturing the best way to castrate him, then?”

Xie Lian smiled and didn't respond.

Shi Qingxuan went white as a sheet. “Oh, god, I'm going to witness a murder. I'm going to be on the news.” He whispered frantically to himself.

Xie Lian didn't get the chance to assure his friend that he wouldn't be making a bloody spectacle in the mall, because the subject of Shi Qingxuan's fears said from nearby,

“Anyone we know?”

Xie Lian's heart twinged in his chest at the sight of Hua Cheng coming to a halt next to them, He Xuan close behind.

They were both dressed in matching attire, likely from another booth handing out clothes fitting the competition, and on their chests were name tag stickers accompanied by a designated number to identify them.

He Xuan was looking very much out of his element, visibly disgusted by the unflattering color combination, but Hua Cheng probably could have gotten this exact uniform from his closet. As opposed to He Xuan, who had selected the baggiest pair of shorts he could wear without needing a belt, Hua Cheng had wisely (and stupidly, Xie Lian thought) gone with ones that barely reached past his upper thigh, allowing for more optimal movement.

He knew that it was surely the intent, but it didn't exactly make room for decency, and heavens above he had nice legs and—what was he thinking? Wasn't he planning to stay angry at him a little longer than thirty seconds?

Shi Qingxuan laughed, loud and obnoxious as he tended to when he was extremely nervous, “HAHAHAHA, I think, ahahaha, that you know him better than most of us, haha…”

Hua Cheng maintained a neutral expression, though a slight quirk of his brow betrayed his interest.

Worried that Shi Qingxuan might cease functioning and spill everything he'd just overheard, Xie Lian smoothly cut in so that possibility wouldn't become reality, “You two were gone a while. Did it go alright?”

Nodding, Hua Cheng assured with an easy smile, “Don't worry, gege, it's taken care of. We've entered you both as well.” He reached into his pocket, withdrawing two more name tags and passing one to him and Shi Qingxuan.

Judging by the neat handwriting on the front, He Xuan was responsible for them being legible.

“We were held up by you. How many fucking raffle tickets did you buy? It took you forever to fill them out.” He Xuan grumbled, and Hua Cheng shrugged nonchalantly.

“I want to win.”

“Oh, right, the raffle! What's the first prize this year?” Shi Qingxuan asked. Behind him, Lang Qianqiu spoke up sheepishly,

“Two tickets to a resort. It lasts a week and Valentine's is right in the middle of it, so it's probably couples themed, but I'm pretty sure there's options for people who go as friends.”

Four heads turned to face him, and he straightened in his chair. “It's on the fliers we put out.” He said, reaching for a handout sitting atop a pile of others on his corner of the table.

Shi Qingxuan grabbed the paper he extended to him, reading over it with sparkling eyes. Immediately, he turned to He Xuan and pleaded, “Come on, A-Xuan, go get us more raffle tickets! If one of us wins, we can go together!”

“We don't need to go to a resort,” He Xuan sighed, and Shi Qingxuan whined in disappointment. “We went on vacation last year, and I'm still in debt from the spa bill.”

“I think you're in debt for more pressing reasons than that.” Hua Cheng said placidly. He Xuan whirled around on him, eyes blazing.

“Shut the hell up. I don't want to hear that from you—not after you basically just bought your way to winning. You probably spent more on tickets than what the actual trip costs.”

“It's not my fault that you don't have money.” Hua Cheng smiled.

“It might as well be. Aren't you making it everyone's problem? Why'd you have to go and buy that many?”

Hoping to diffuse what was quickly turning into a mess of insults, Xie Lian questioned with a tilt of his head, “Why do you want a trip to a couple's resort, San Lang?”

He subconsciously refused to acknowledge the most obvious reason why, because unless Hua Cheng had mystery friends none of them knew about, it was easy to guess that he would use the prize to entice his beloved into a romantic week getaway. Hua Cheng met his eyes and was quiet for a moment. Then, he said with a straight face, “The hotel is nice, gege. There's a pool.”

Why did it sound like he was trying to convince him?

He Xuan's lip curled. “You're a freak, you know that? Are you planning on laying on that bed of rose petals by yourself?”

Hua Cheng sneered back, “I might. What's it to you?”

Xie Lian really couldn't help it—a burst of laughter escaped him, and he lightly shook his head at their antics, “Well, I'll root for San Lang.” He thought, just for a moment, that he had detected a trace of disappointment in Hua Cheng's answering smile, but he couldn't linger on it.

A voice over a couple bulky speakers announced that the first race would be starting in ten minutes.

“Hey, you two had better get ready if you're going to run. You'll need to change.” Lang Qianqiu reminded them, and Shi Qingxuan squeezed between him and Hua Cheng, who had naturally drifted closer, to help Xie Lian search for a set of clothes that fit. They made a rushed detour to the nearest restroom to change, Shi Qingxuan dejectedly remarking on the state of the men's urinals and how he missed using the women's because it was cleaner.

Xie Lian was glad that they were the only ones in there (as far as he could tell) and that someone else hadn't heard him. Once he had stopped to tie the laces of his borrowed sneakers, thinking how glad he was that his socks protected him from whatever germs of other people's feet had imbued themselves into the soles (thanks to Shi Qingxuan's whiny comment about it), Shi Qingxuan tugged him over to where Hua Cheng and He Xuan were sitting on the ground predictably ignoring each other's company.

He Xuan sat with his legs extended in front of him, leaned in a slouch with his weight propped on his hands, fighting a smirk whenever someone passed by that wasn't paying attention and inevitably tripped a bit on his feet.

Oppositely, Hua Cheng's were drawn to his chest, his foot impatiently thumping against the tiled floor as he looked on with a bored expression. Earlier, Xie Lian had silently thanked the gods that his shorts weren't so small as to be tight, and now he wished they were. Gravity had naturally taken its course with the loose bit of fabric available, and with the way Hua Cheng was sitting—

Xie Lian could see a sliver of his underwear.

Darkly patterned and not immediately attention grabbing, it wasn't nearly as much of a red flag as Shi Qingxuan's translucent white skirt and the bright blue garments she'd worn underneath had been that time they went to the park, but, nevertheless, alarms were going off in his head.

Embarrassment and nerves had always made him blank out, and today was no different. His mindless panic at having witnessed something he definitely was not supposed to and bearing the knowledge that anyone looking his way (and he really thought they would be monks or blind not to take a second glance) told him to hurry over and drop into a crouch right in front of him, sitting at an angle where it would be practically impossible to see past.

For a split second there was a sense of peace within Xie Lian at having effectively shielded him, but coming so close without any warning posed a new set of problems.

Hua Cheng blinked at him, never leaning away to create a sense of personal space that implied he was put off by the most recent development. “Gege.” He greeted, taking in Xie Lian's flushed appearance with a keen dark eye.

Xie Lian cleared his throat, responding cordially, “San Lang.”

Hua Cheng's brows furrowed. “Is something wrong?”

’Yes! You're Hong'er and didn't tell me, I'm so in love with you that I'm about to do something stupid, and now your underwear is showing and I can't tell you that because then you'd think I was looking there! And I wasn't!’

Oh, no. He had been. He had been looking. A lot. What kind of person did this make him? Since when was he so carnally driven? No. He wasn't, and hadn't ever been.

It all came down to Hua Cheng, with his tempting smiles and his long legs and his—no, no, no, this was bad, dangerous territory—

“No,” Xie Lian said quickly, then blurted before Hua Cheng could call his bluff, “Your hair. I, I came over to tie it for you. Since it's…going to get in your way?” He winced at how the last part of that sentence came out as a question, but Hua Cheng was so thrown by the offer he made that he appeared to have dropped his suspicions completely.

“Oh,” his lips tugged upwards into a small, shy smile, and Xie Lian couldn't deny how he melted from within at the sight. “Gege wants to do my hair? Can I do his, too?”

“Oh my god,” He Xuan groaned from beside them. “I'm going to be sick. How about you go do this bullshit somewhere else?”

“A-Xuan! That's not very nice.” Shi Qingxuan said reproachfully, and He Xuan rolled his eyes.

He had a much different opinion on what was ‘nice’, and this was the most polite way to say ‘fucking stop polluting the environment with your googly eyed nonsense.’

Xie Lian ignored the heat flaring against his cheeks and swallowed hard. Hua Cheng hadn't even spared He Xuan a glance, completely focused on the one in front of him.

“Ah, uh, yes. If there's time.” He agreed.

It looked like Hua Cheng was going to say something in response to that, probably that they had as much time as they wanted because if necessary he would stall the event just for the sake of giving him a ponytail, but he was thoroughly distracted by the act of Xie Lian moving forward and running his fingers through his bangs without further prompting. Xie Lian heard a small intake of breath from the other man, his own heart stalling at the way Hua Cheng peered up at him in unveiled surprise. Yes, up—with Xie Lian positioned on his knees and Hua Cheng closer to ground level, he had the height advantage for once.

Huh. He…kind of liked…

“Gege, you're going to tie my hair like this? Can you see what you're doing?” Hua Cheng didn't sound accusing, just interested in his unusual process. Xie Lian, reluctant to abandon his self-assigned duty as Hua Cheng's personal bodyguard, nodded vigorously as he tugged a plain black hair tie off his wrist and stretched it out.

“Hm? What do you mean, San Lang? This is the best method.” He said, knowing perfectly well that it was easily the worst. He heard He Xuan snort, not wasting the time or effort to be discreet. Xie Lian really couldn't blame him.

This was ridiculous.

His confidence in his skills was enough for Hua Cheng, though, who inclined his head with a softer smile than before. “If gege says so.”

Giving the other man a perfunctory nod, Xie Lian picked up where he left off and carefully gathered what he could of Hua Cheng's hair, leaving wispy strands here and there that were too short to be styled without a product and a bigger time crunch. Holding it back out of his face, Xie Lian wrapped his hand around where he intended to tie it off and patiently ran his fingers through the dark locks, ridding them of the few existing tangles. For its length and type, it was in marvelous health, and he found himself privately envying (but mostly appreciating) its glossiness.

“Your hair is so wavy in places,” Xie Lian murmured, keeping a firm hold as he shifted the hair tie onto the fingers of his free hand and wound it tightly where his others had just been serving as a temporary scrunchie.

Hua Cheng, who had relaxed and closed his eyes about halfway through Xie Lian's free combing session, gave a low, acknowledging hum in response.

“And you have so much of it.” Xie Lian said in awe.

Hong'er's hadn't looked anything like this. It was, from what he could remember, always long enough to be put up, but it was about as straight as Xie Lian's and little effort was put into maintaining it. Things like this did tend to change during or after puberty the most, so maybe that was it?

“Gege likes it?” Hua Cheng smiled. “I spent years straightening it because I had no clue how to manage it.”

So that was why!

“I love it,” Xie Lian nodded, though Hua Cheng wouldn't see. “It's very pretty. San Lang shouldn't straighten it too much.”

Without thinking, he lowered his hand towards the thin braid he hadn't tucked away, lightly touching the bright red pearl at the end. He didn't think he'd ever seen him go without it.

Was it a gift from someone?

Hua Cheng's eye cracked open, and Xie Lian felt caught, redirecting his attention back to finishing styling the other's hair. It had gone all lopsided, and now he was struggling to salvage it. To even it out at the front, Xie Lian loosened a section of his bangs on the other side so they would frame his face, making the braid stand out a bit less.

Before he let the man's hair down again to redo it, he could see that the lobes of his ears had gone red.

At first, he had envied Hua Cheng's natural air of confidence, but he was beginning to realize that he had his own insecurities as well. Too many, in his most humble opinion—he didn't think he'd ever seen a more flawless person. Beauty was subjective, yes, however he didn't think there was anyone alive who could deny Hua Cheng's.

His conflicted expression, his averted gaze and the tentative, shy smile he wore made him wonder if he wasn't used to compliments, or at least ones not made with impure motives in mind. A few times, he had overheard customers making the sorts of comments he felt he had a right to throw them out onto the streets for.

Xie Lian scarcely felt as furious as he did when the man was made the object of their desires and he could do little else but angrily scrub at dishes, waiting for them to breach company policies by directly making an approach.

Without Hua Cheng in visible distress or being physically harassed, he wasn't permitted to intervene.

Even so, there was a fine line between staring and straight up ogling someone like a zoo animal while talking above a whisper about them, which he had stressed to Shi Qingxuan after accidentally squeezing a coffee mug so tightly that it shattered in his hand. Hua Cheng had never given any reaction to his less than pleasant company, remaining neutral until he heard Xie Lian's hiss of pain behind the counter as he fumbled with the broken shards, immediately looking up from his work to see what was going on.

Thinking about it now, that incident was probably the closest they had come to interacting since their disastrous first meeting. He had seen Hua Cheng rising out of his booth, starting to make his way over to him as Shi Qingxuan rushed him to the back to clean the cuts and bandage his fingers, complaining under her breath about why he had thought cleaning up the mess without some kind of protection had been a smart course of action.

He didn't know how he had become so distracted, but while he'd stewed in the chaotic mess of his thoughts, his hands had done the work of reinstating Hua Cheng's ponytail, and…it was entirely wrong.

“I made it on the side again…” he muttered, and something about the annoyed twitch of his brow must have struck a chord with Hua Cheng. He was laughing, bright and unrestrained, as Xie Lian turned beet red.

“It doesn't feel as messy as the…”

Hua Cheng was clearly on the verge of saying ‘the last one' but abruptly cut himself off, choking back another laugh as Xie Lian frowned sadly at his work.

“I can fix it,” he offered, but Hua Cheng shook his head.

“There's nothing to fix. Gege did it right.”

“San Lang…” Xie Lian sighed. “You don't have to spare my feelings.”

“No, really,” Hua Cheng insisted, giving the side ponytail a small test tug to see if it would stay in place. “It's off my neck this way.”

Wonderful. Now he would be staring at Hua Cheng's neck for the entirety of the race and for however long he kept it after.

Hua Cheng's smile was warm and reassuring as he shifted in front of him and moved to sit on his knees, Xie Lian praising the heavens for at last answering his calls.

“Gege's next. Turn around? I’m not as skilled, I don't know if I could do it from the front.”

He Xuan's head snapped in their direction.

“Oh. Yes. San Lang should hurry, we don't have much time.” Xie Lian warned, lowering himself fully onto the tiled floor and crossing his legs. He wondered how much pain he could have been spared if Hua Cheng had also opted to go this route, too.

“I can be fast, gege.”

Hua Cheng's hands met his hair, his touch so soft, almost reverent, that it made him privately long to see what kind of expression he was making. Where his own shyness had caused him to fumble at first until he slipped into habit, Hua Cheng patiently and calmly combed through, avoiding snagging tangles as Xie Lian was sure he'd failed to do.

It was like he'd practiced and knew exactly what to do, where would need the most attention, and how to bring every single goosebump to the surface of his skin.

“Gege has beautiful hair. It's like silk.” Hua Cheng murmured, his voice just a little ways above his ear, and Xie Lian laughed to dispel the fluttering, jittery sensation he could feel sprouting in his chest.

Hopefully it would also distract the other from the spike in color he was positive had spread along the exposed column of his neck as Hua Cheng held his hair up in place.

Xie Lian felt when he secured it, a much welcome draft of cool air brushing against where it previously had not been able to reach. It wasn't the right time or place to vocally express disagreement, as much as he thought compliments regarding his physical appearance were severely misguided. Xie Lian didn't exactly think he was ugly, and he knew much of his negativity was one-sided, stemming from his subconscious will to compare himself to a standard he hadn't met since he was in high school, but it didn't make the voice completely go away. He couldn't deny Hua Cheng the right to his misplaced kindness, though he neutrally expressed its lacklustre. “It's nothing special, San Lang.” Xie Lian smiled, tilting his head to the side. He watched as Hua Cheng's mouth fell into a small, pouty frown.

“I don't like disagreeing with gege, but he's wrong about this.” Hua Cheng said, almost petulantly, and Xie Lian suppressed a grin.

“I have to watch more of this? Do they even hear themselves?” He Xuan whispered to Shi Qingxuan, for once not wanting to irk Hua Cheng's ire. His neck hurt from twisting it so fast to look at them.

Shi Qingxuan's lips pursed as he shook with silent giggles.

He cupped his hand around He Xuan's ear and leaned in. “If I didn't know any better, I'd think they were talking about doing something else. Do you agree, A-Xuan? Should we tell them?”

He Xuan shuddered, “Please don't put that image in my head. And don't say anything. I like being alive, and if I in any way insinuated that his gege was impure, he'd have my head.”

Shi Qingxuan gave a slow, subdued nod of agreement.

“I wonder if A-Cheng knows that he's not a total prude?”

He Xuan's brows lifted. “What’s your source?”

Shi Qingxuan rolled his eyes. “Uh, he's my best friend. I know everything there is to know about him.”

He Xuan frowned. “I thought I was your best friend.”

“You are,” Shi Qingxuan smiled, eyes sparkling, and He Xuan knew he'd been had. He decided to let him have this one. “I just wanted you to say it. Anyways, my point stands.”

“So he has experience. Interesting.”

“Oh, no. Too far. I don't think he's ever even kissed anyone.” Shi Qingxuan waved him off, and He Xuan rolled his eyes.

“Then what experience is there to speak of?”

Before Shi Qingxuan could reply, the same voice from earlier spoke over the speakers, inviting all participants for the next round to the starting point of the makeshift track.

He saw people immediately begin to move, gravitating towards the center of the sectioned off strip of mall.

“I'll tell you later.” Shi Qingxuan promised, as they both moved to stand alongside Xie Lian and Hua Cheng. He Xuan came to a stop next to Shi Qingxuan, who (thankfully) separated him from the two hopeless fools making eyes at each other. He wanted to be as far away as possible.

Lang Qianqiu had abandoned his place at the booth, moving to stand in front of the gathered group and explain how scores would be marked, seeming to mostly target those who had never run a proper race before. For Xie Lian and Hua Cheng, it was standard procedure, and he held back a laugh as the taller leaned in to whisper next to his ear, “He has to tell them how to run, gege, or these simpletons will just trip over their shoelaces. Or air.”

“San Lang is being too mean-spirited.” Xie Lian said, just as quietly. His scolding remark was made obsolete by the smile he was trying and failing to contain, and Hua Cheng grinned cheekily, clearly undeterred by Xie Lian's watered down attempt to put him in order.

He, like everyone else had been advised to, had started to stretch out his unused muscles. Hua Cheng was jogging in place beside him to warm up, his side ponytail bobbing adorably with each movement. “Gege doesn't think he's better?” Hua Cheng cocked his head innocently, and when Xie Lian's brows shot up, he smiled cheerfully at him, “I think gege will leave them in the dust.”

“Come on,” Xie Lian laughed, in disbelief.

He moved his arms in circular motions after coming up from his crouched position at the starting line. “I haven't done anything this physical since high school. I'll probably place dead last, if I'm lucky to have not tripped halfway through or had an asthma attack.”

“Mn, doubtful. He Xuan will. At worst, gege will be second to last. There's no way he can't outrun that idiot.” Hua Cheng replied solemnly.

“He does like to take his time.” Xie Lian remarked, and Hua Cheng sighed deeply. It was a pitying sound.

“He's an incredible swimmer.” Hua Cheng offered after a moment, coming to a halt and kneeling to tighten one of his shoelaces that had come slightly undone. Xie Lian was a bit surprised to hear him vouching for one of He Xuan's skills instead of continuing to poke fun at him, and sure enough, his sharp brow was pinched in annoyance at the sentiment.

“He goes diving and doesn't even need breathing gear. He can hold his breath for a while. I've just convinced myself that he was an ugly fish in a past life.” He continued.

“Did he teach San Lang how he does it?” Xie Lian ventured, curious to see what else he could get Hua Cheng to unearth. Not to his shock, the younger man snorted in derision and rolled his eyes.

“Nothing that trash could show me is worthwhile.”

Xie Lian smiled, thinking privately to himself, ’San Lang sure doesn't like asking He Xuan for help...’

Hua Cheng rose to his full height, and said with an air of caution, like he was afraid to reveal too much, “When I was young, someone taught me how to swim. I don't need any more lessons.”

Stalling, Xie Lian blinked back at him and tried to ignore the flush of embarrassment that warmed his cheeks. Resisting the urge to laugh, Xie Lian turned his attention to his feet and thought helplessly, ’I only taught you how to do the doggy paddle and not drown…is that really enough to say you can swim?’

He had to hope that Hong'er, being as obedient as he was, especially as a small child, had taken his teachings to heart and continued to practice long after they had lost contact that first summer.

“By the way, if gege taps out, so will I. There's no point if you don't finish with me.” For once, Hua Cheng wasn't looking at him, and as Xie Lian studied his carefully neutral expression, he realized he was expecting a rebuttal and was preparing himself to hold his ground.

Xie Lian's lips pulled upwards in a fond smile. He reached out to gently flick Hua Cheng's arm, and saw his eye dart over. “Don't do that. You won't win your trip if you bail and rank low, right?”

Hua Cheng whined, “Yes, I will. Gege, this race is just for fun. It's for people who can't afford to buy raffle tickets and get their name in more times. The top three get additional slips for free.”

“You're impossible.” Xie Lian shook his head, fighting another bout of laughter. “How many did you buy?”

He received a coy smile in reply, and Hua Cheng answered with a mischievous edge, “Enough that they had to go and find another roll of tickets. I believe they're still being filled out.”

“Are you kidding me?” He Xuan chose to interrupt at this point—he and Hua Cheng had finally started talking at a volume he didn't have to strain his ears to hear. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“You're going to give Lang Qianqiu's friend arthritis. Or carpal tunnel. Or both.” Shi Qingxuan commented over He Xuan's shoulder. Xie Lian glanced at where the girl from earlier was indeed sitting hunched over with a pen in hand, visibly disgruntled. She could probably write Hua Cheng's name with her eyes closed now.

He winced. San Lang was too devious.

He was going to say something to scold him for real when Lang Qianqiu reappeared with a checkered flag in hand and a whistle he twirled on his finger, grinning broadly,

“Everyone ready to go?”

A chorus of ‘yes’ and a couple ‘hurry up's followed, and he raised his voice to say, “Alright, lots of you have been here in the years previous, but I'll do a rules recap for you newbies.”

“This race is one lap, from this side of the mall to the big exit sign over at the end. Everything is being recorded to ensure there are no mistakes when determining your placement in the rankings. As always, I must remind you to mind the lanes and stay in yours. There's to be no pushing, shoving, tripping, biting, punching or any other foul play towards your fellow contestants to get ahead. In simple terms, be good sports, alright? I'm getting tired of yelling at you for fighting people, Quan Yizhen.”

Lang Qianqiu had let his eyes linger sternly upon a curly head of hair at the far end of where they stood lined up, and a vast majority of those watching or participating tried to get a good look at the youth he'd singled out. One particular bystander, with his dull black hair tied in a low ponytail, was pinching the bridge of his nose with his eyes shut tight.

“Yin Yu,” Hua Cheng murmured, when he saw where Xie Lian was looking. He nodded, and Hua Cheng snickered softly, “He's Quan Yizhen's tutor. They don't pay him what they should be for the troubles he's given. That kid is only good at beating people up and following Yin Yu like a dog.”

Xie Lian could recall several instances where those two came into the café, but Yin Yu never seemed too pleased at Quan Yizhen's being there. It was more like he'd been worn down by his advances and given up trying to get away. “Are they a couple?” He wondered, and Hua Cheng made a noncommittal noise as he lightly shrugged his shoulders.

“Yin Yu doesn't tell me much about his relationship with Quan Yizhen these days, but I think he's coming around to accepting him. A couple years ago, it was an entirely unrequited love. If nothing else, he's persistent and loyal. I can't fault him for that.”

Xie Lian felt a stab of pity for the boy. He knew that feeling all too well. He wasn't sure what gave him the courage to ask, but he questioned softly, “Is San Lang persistent, too?”

Hua Cheng's head turned quickly to face him. He observed Xie Lian quietly for a couple moments, almost like he was looking for something, and Xie Lian added for emphasis with an awkward cough, “I mean, in regards to his beloved.”

He had never thought of it at length, mostly to preserve his sanity, but overall he knew astonishingly little about the special someone who had captured Hua Cheng's heart. Of course, they hadn't spent much in person time together yet, but from what scarce information he'd gathered, Hua Cheng seemed somewhat passive about making a move.

“There is nothing I value more than their happiness. I would do anything in my power to ensure it.” Hua Cheng answered, a sweet sort of warmth emanating from his words.

Even surrounded by people, standing in the middle of what had become a public arena in which they were encased on all sides and couldn't see past the rows of huddled viewers, Hua Cheng spoke calmly and clearly, completely at ease with being heard by the world. Had he ushered that declaration out in the most fragile of whispers, the bright, burning sincerity in his dark eye spoke of untold brilliance the thickest of fog wouldn't have been able to obscure.

Xie Lian's heart ached, knowing that the chance of having such blinding passion directed at him was slim to none.

To think he had any means of competing was to challenge Hua Cheng's unwavering devotion, and he didn't dare.

He swallowed down his grief like a pill he had resigned himself to taking for the betterment of an illness, no matter how its bitterness coated his throat and filled him with the need to spit it right back out in childish retaliation.

“I meant, ah…something more along the lines of telling them,” Xie Lian reiterated. He didn't miss Hua Cheng's flinch, nor the ripple of fear that stole across his face as it settled into practiced neutrality. Fidgeting with the hem of his borrowed shirt, he murmured, “If San Lang never says anything directly, how will they know?”

It was a silly argument. If Hua Cheng was half as charming, witty and selflessly kind, he still would have found himself falling over his own feet before him. He could scarcely imagine what he was like in front of the one he adored.

What kind of standards did his beloved have if they hadn't yet accepted or realized his affections?

Were they just that dense?

“It's fine if they never know,” Hua Cheng said softly, tugging Xie Lian from the row he was having with the faceless figment he had conjured to resemble some beautiful, untouchable deity forever out of reach. He watched, speechless, as Hua Cheng smiled gently and met his gaze.

For a fleeting, sparkling instant that he wished was connected to an eternity he could live in forever, he felt that Hua Cheng was trying to convey something inexplicable.

Something he didn't have the capacity to accept nor comprehend in his poor, simple mind; the frightened, weary part of him that refused to trust in the feeling that he was being placed on a throne he had no right to sit in.

And yet, Hua Cheng continued to regard him like a god.

There was no other way to describe it.

“Being by them is all I could ever hope for.”

He said so without hesitation, but Xie Lian had a saddening premonition that part of his reluctance to bear his soul was tied to his belief that he was undeserving.

Maybe he would be content to spend his days in bliss unmarred by the presence of his love, happy to serve, but that couldn't possibly be all he hoped for.

“San Lang,” Xie Lian had lowered his voice again, and Hua Cheng leaned in just the smallest bit to hear him better.

He knew the reason for his closeness, knew that there was no greater meaning behind it, yet it sent a thrilling shock of affection and longing through him that had no right to be as nerve-wracking as it was. “You really are…devoted.” He settled with saying, though a million other unhelpful phrases lingered on his tongue. Useless desperation, confessions of his heart that would not be appreciated.

He wasn't prepared for the way Hua Cheng's face split in a broad, blinding smile, all teeth, the sparkling gleam in his eye saying all that words could not—that he was proud of this unwavering love he shouldered, viewing it not as an unrequited burden or loss, but a piece of himself he valued perhaps more than anything else. Stubbornly, that selfish, dark minded thing that made jealousy shoot up in his chest like restricting vines was quietly subdued and put to rest.

San Lang was right. He'd been foolish.

Love should not be conditional, dependent on reciprocation exactly as you wanted it to be. He would let it grow weathered and aching, for the rest of his life on earth, if only Hua Cheng would continue to smile his way just as his beloved probably did for him. He could learn to bear it in silence, as he had so many other things, and one day, it would be nothing but a dormant, hibernating adoration.

Even as he willed it to be, it throbbed and writhed, refusing to be tamed, and Xie Lian pondered how Hua Cheng managed it. How could he not want? How did he breathe, at ease, in their presence, when his own troubling affliction made it difficult to remember the mindlessness of going through the motions, like stumbling was just inevitable?

In that instant he reminded himself to inhale, because of course, Hua Cheng had stolen the breath right out of him again. And then he was trying to catch it for a very different reason, as Lang Qianqiu's whistle sounded, piercing and sharp, through the air—they had missed the rest of his instructions, clearly.

“Ready, set—”

He tensed, crouching lower, and Hua Cheng mimicked his stance, coiled like a spring.

”Go!”

Instincts had him pushing off the hard tile without missing a beat, taking him several steps ahead of a few other competitors in that fraction of a second's delay, but he didn't miss the absence of a dark haired youth at his side.

When he fixed his eyes on the looming track, a leap and a bound away, he found his confusion flooded out by amazement. Hua Cheng was fast.

He was like a bolt of lightning, leaving a sparkling trail of static where his sneakers met the ground, firm yet light, so much so he might have not really been touching down all the way. Xie Lian didn't think he had ever seen someone take off so quickly and continue to maintain such a remarkable speed, and his awe was reflected in the wide eyes of Shi Qingxuan, who was rapidly catching up and matching his pace in the lane over.

“Holy shit!” Shi Qingxuan yelled, and Xie Lian managed a breathless laugh. “Lang Qianqiu wasn't kidding!”

“Where's He Xuan?” He questioned, trying not to sound as shaken as he felt, both by Hua Cheng's show of prowess and the prominent burn stirring in his lungs from the abrupt change in his usual speed. He hadn't run like this in forever, surprised at how liberating it was to let loose.

Where his unused muscles should have protested in anguish, they trembled with exhilaration.

Shi Qingxuan rolled his eyes and paid for it, stumbling slightly with a high-pitched yelp. It took him a couple seconds to resume his place, snickering, “He's jogging, all the way at the back.”

“I guess he really didn't want to go to that couple's resort.” Xie Lian grinned.

“Hey!”

A couple hopefuls were gaining on them; one he recognized as the curly haired youth Quan Yizhen, and another masculine face he felt sure he had never seen before but found strangely familiar. He could see that they were rapidly approaching the finishing line, and an exciting thought occurred to him; he really might not come in dead last next to He Xuan. Placing higher up was doable!

A quick scan of the track ahead—all empty lanes except for Hua Cheng and a young woman he could only see the back of, her long, mousy brown hair pulled tightly in a ponytail.

She was so intently focused on keeping her lead and trying to outdo Hua Cheng (not possible, Xie Lian thought a bit pityingly) that she might not even notice him if he amped things up and rushed past her. An unexpected competitiveness made his heart soar with unfounded ego—he could beat her, and catch up to him.

Xie Lian put on a burst of speed, and Shi Qingxuan loudly exclaimed next to him, but he didn't quite hear what he said.

It might have been ‘Traitor’ or ‘Since when can you run like that?!’—pointless to try and decipher.

If they were on a dirt track, all that would have remained where he'd been moments before was dust.

They were nearing the final stretch when he won a little unspoken back and forth with the runner a few places over—she’d finally taken notice when he got a couple steps ahead, but really, her efforts to overtake him for good were doomed from the start. She'd exhausted herself attempting to match the experienced runner at the front, still entirely oblivious to her plights, and wore herself out thinking she had no patiently enduring ex athletes on her heels just waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. Hua Cheng hadn't revealed a single weakness to tackle, either; he didn't falter since the moment he set his sights on the finish line.

He never looked back.

Relief interspersed with a guilty, shameful hope that he would, just for a moment. Xie Lian was proud, indescribably so, despite that conflicted lapse in judgement.

He hadn't wanted Hong'er to slow himself down for him or others, and he didn't want Hua Cheng to.

That hadn't changed.

’Don’t look back,’

Hua Cheng, noticing for the first time that he was alone, glanced curtly at the two lanes directly opposite him to see who was left.

’Please, look back.'

His head turned to the side, and Xie Lian felt like a ton of bricks had been slammed into his chest when a dark eye smoothly found him, sparkling in delight—there was no surprise there, no disbelief.

He had never doubted that Xie Lian would be right there.

Hua Cheng didn't slow his pace even marginally, instead seeming to suggest with a mischievous grin that they go head to head. A few more seconds, and it would all be over.

He could feel his heart lifting in his chest as he propelled himself just that tiny bit faster than before, and then Hua Cheng was close, close enough to reach out and touch—

Just as they fell into step at each other's side, ignorant to the sound of a final whistle call and tumultuous applause from the gathered crowd as they stopped just short of barreling through the hanging, checkered banner marking the end, Xie Lian threw his arms out wide.

He saw Hua Cheng's eye widen, watched as fine brows shot up beneath sweat damp bangs, but his view was shortly blocked by a white shirt marked by a number five as he slammed unceremoniously into his companion's chest.

His arms tightly wound themselves around a strong back, and Hua Cheng stumbled once, just once, as he attempted to bring them to a stop and not also topple over while bearing additional weight.

To mitigate the speedy transfer, Hua Cheng dragged him in closer, supporting him fully—Xie Lian felt his feet briefly leave the ground as Hua Cheng spun them around, hands firmly at his waist, and his breath was punched out of his chest at the spark of electric heat where cool fingers grazed uncovered skin his shirt had hiked up to expose.

When they were at no immediate risk of tipping, Hua Cheng's grasp on him slackened slightly, but he didn't seem in any hurry to release him. In turn, Xie Lian lowered his head further, until what he saw was not crisp white fabric but tightly laced running shoes. He couldn't help but smile at Hua Cheng's soft, tentative, “Gege?” He said it like he thought, no, knew that there was a motive behind this—as if Xie Lian needed a logical reason to cling to him as though he would never get another opportunity. This was it.

He couldn't run, now.

Maybe there had been some ulterior desire, because he didn't think he could face Hua Cheng upfront without also squeezing the life out of him, for both of their sakes, really.

Hua Cheng couldn't be permitted to escape in haste, as awfully selfish as that sounded.

“If gege was so interested in tying, he didn't have to throw himself at this San Lang to do it. Not that I minded.” Hua Cheng started quietly, when Xie Lian didn't answer his first summons. Xie Lian could tell that he was nervous, perhaps subconsciously, clearly unsure of what to expect from his strange behavior. That, and his additional rambling, were a damning indicator. “He could have just asked to hold hands. I really wouldn't have been opposed to ordering those second-rate judges to change the rules—”

“You've gotten faster.”

Hua Cheng's subtly anxious fidgeting, the hands that had shyly migrated to a safer, more respectable place, fingers drumming softly, senselessly, drawing halfhearted patterns, feet shuffling against the tile, came to an abrupt halt.

Suddenly, he wasn't moving at all.

Xie Lian couldn't even feel him breathing, the rise and fall of his cheek as it pressed to a warm chest echoing tense disquiet. His heart rate, already elevated from his mad dash but gradually calming, kicked into action with the force of a canon being set off, loud and booming.

Swallowing his hesitation, kicking to the curb a lousy excuse, a buoy for them to cling to, Xie Lian added in as calm a voice he could manage, an inevitable note of pride creeping in, “I almost couldn't keep up.” He laughed weakly, beginning to cautiously lift his head from its anchor of safety at the sound of Hua Cheng's voice saying with a detectable degree of resigned disbelief,

“Gege knows.”

The look on Hua Cheng's face had him drawing in a thin, thready breath, and without meaning to, he loosened his hold on the other man. What at first appeared to be a blank slate, sharp features losing their naturally harsh edge as they slipped under a spell of blanketed numbness, was disfigured and made obvious by the pinprick of a pupil in an almost black iris, only visible when cast into definition by bright overhead fluorescents. Xie Lian could see, his eyes trained after one too many months of hopelessly staring after this wonderfully complex person like an unobtainable enigma, that his fair complexion had taken on a sickly pallid edge, like he was fighting to keep the contents of his stomach in check and was on the verge of failure.

The delicate skin beneath his eye had gone tellingly red and stinging, wrinkling upwards in a faint wince.

It didn't take him long after noting that curious defect in Hua Cheng's usually unshakeable composure to absorb the shocking sight of glossy wetness shining back in the depth of that eye reflecting his own distorted face at him, and Xie Lian nearly choked around a wounded gasp, brows knitting in a tight furrow, “San…San Lang—”

Something raw and protective surged forth in him like an unchecked flame on a stovetop, his hands seeming to move without officially being given permission by his brain.

It hardly mattered—Xie Lian didn't think he would have formally resisted the call to comfort for much longer, to show the very same kindness Hua Cheng so willingly gave without prompting. His palms flattened against either side of Hua Cheng's cheeks, softly cupping, and the determined fire settled (slightly) when the other man tensed momentarily, only to melt into his gentle, reassuring touch like he'd been completely starved of it his whole life.

Xie Lian's heart ached and throbbed painfully at the sight of a single, tentative tear releasing its stubborn clinging to dark lower lashes. It rolled down, down, before being caught and swiped away by his waiting thumb.

Hua Cheng drew in a dangerous, stuttering breath, and Xie Lian sensed the impending rupture of a carefully crafted facade that was soon to come. He knew all too well the terror of being seen, how liberating it felt, but also how unpredictable and nearly impossible it was to suddenly put a stopper on these devastating truths spilling over.

Just because he'd chosen the most inconvenient place for confrontation didn't mean he also wanted to subject Hua Cheng to the torture of falling to pieces in front of a crowd that was sure to take notice sooner or later. Or, maybe, he was as possessive of this rare show of vulnerability as Hua Cheng's unrestrained joy; the broad, toothy smiles he flashed, worth more than any prize. He really didn't know this version of Hua Cheng well enough to say whether he would or wouldn't mind staying out where they were.

Xie Lian's habit of seeking solitude, curling up someplace he wouldn't be noticed or bothered (or bother others) when he was hurting was an essay of his private self-reflections, not Hua Cheng's. He shouldn't assume on his behalf, but he could, without drowning in guilt for bringing this upon them to begin with, steer them not towards the shadows for the sake of sparing others the indecency, but to ensure they wouldn't be interrupted. “San Lang, come with me.” Xie Lian whispered, soothingly smoothing another fresh, salty stream carving a steady path along a statuesque jaw.

He lowered his left hand to warmly pry at the other's closed fist, grasping trembling digits to draw his attention back to the present. He had worried that Hua Cheng, strangely absent and lost for words, wouldn't have been reached by his quiet suggestion. Barely a moment had passed, however, when Hua Cheng's eye fell closed. Drawn, sullen features relaxied into what he might describe as silent, weary acceptance of the inevitable.

He nodded with his head held low, beginning to move away.

Did he expect to be ridiculed? Rejected? For feeling?

Xie Lian couldn't have that—not even for a second.

Hua Cheng had not yet retrieved his hand from Xie Lian's steady grip when he tried to loosen their joined fingers and found that he was being restrained, his eye filling with caution and then confusion when Xie Lian smiled naturally,

“You don't mind, do you?”

Hua Cheng regarded him quietly, wonder and fascination and bewilderment reflected where Xie Lian could see his own face peering back at him.

“I…don't mind, gege.” He assured softly.

When Xie Lian squeezed his hand, Hua Cheng returned it with the same lingering warmth. He could hear the eager chatter of other contestants now as they moved between each other, wearing friendly smiles and congratulating their competition. Lang Qianqiu was standing off to the side speaking to his seat companion, reviewing footage, and already his and Hua Cheng's tied victory was garnering attention. Not wanting to be thrust beneath the spotlight too soon, Xie Lian quickly slipped past the throes of gathered participants and the audience still joined together on the sidelines, discussing the results.

Hua Cheng followed directly behind him, never questioning where they were going, trusting Xie Lian to lead the way and guide them to a sanctuary of his choice.

He stopped only when the overlapping noise of too many people speaking at once was muted, pulling his taller companion into a shadowed, private nook forming something of an alleyway in the middle of two shops clearly under renovation or abandoned. Xie Lian could feel his heart pounding in his chest, from anticipation, exhaustion or anxiety, he couldn't tell anymore.

Maybe it was everything, all at once.

Hua Cheng stood across from him, just shy of leaning into the wall behind him, his mouth flattened in a wary frown.

His hand, which Xie Lian had not yet let go of, trembled faintly. Xie Lian was taken by surprise when he was the first one to speak again, echoing his words from a couple minutes ago, “...Gege knows about me.”

“...Let's sit down.” Xie Lian suggested, after a moment of consideration. Hua Cheng nodded stiffly.

Xie Lian smiled slightly, moving to take a seat on the chilled tile floor. Hua Cheng positioned himself in front of him at an angle that allowed him to keep holding onto Xie Lian, his right shoulder and knee pressed to the wall as he drew them closer to his body; a protective, huddled posture.

Crossing his own, Xie Lian waited until they had both settled to begin calmly, much more than he felt, “San Lang, why didn't you tell me before? That you're Hong'er?”

Hua Cheng stilled at that name— it was nothing except the reminder of how weak he had been, how helpless he was to save himself and the ones around him.

And yet, when Xie Lian's lips uttered those syllables with pure fondness, a kindness he was undeserving of, he only felt the desire to curl up and cry for forgiveness.

Xie Lian watched his throat move with a rough swallow, eye squeezing shut in unconcealed pain, “Because…of how I failed you in the past. I didn't want to pollute any future I might have as your friend with mistakes I've made– I thought a fresh start was the solution.”

Of everything he had told himself to expect, this type of confession was on the complete opposite spectrum.

“...Eh?”

Hua Cheng's eye blinked open, startled. Xie Lian was staring at him with a bemused smile, eyebrows raised.

“Failed me? How so?” He questioned, puzzled.

Xie Lian was almost sure Hua Cheng thought he was being punished by explaining his ‘crime’, face crumpling.

“Because of how I…how I left things, I…”

Left things? What did he– oh!

“Do you mean the last letter you sent?” Xie Lian asked, receiving his confirmation with a small nod from Hua Cheng.

“I never properly explained myself afterwards,” Hua Cheng said quietly. “My means of communicating were being monitored, and I didn't want to put you at risk. By the time I was able to write again, the letters I sent went unanswered, and I learned that gege was no longer where he'd been living the last couple years.”

Ah…

Xie Lian scratched lightly at his arm with his unoccupied hand, replying a tad awkwardly, “Yes, I…after I graduated with my degree, my living arrangements quickly became unstable…”

The look on Hua Cheng's face seemed to imply that he knew exactly what he was talking about, but didn't say so directly, offering his silent understanding instead.

It was more comforting than any sugared sympathy.

“Your reply had me wondering for a long while if you were involved with some dangerous people, but I pushed it to the back of my mind. It seemed too…surreal to imagine, then.”

He didn't miss how Hua Cheng's eye averted once before finding its way back to him. He was the very picture of an animal companion that had gotten into something they knew they shouldn't have, wearing their guilt like a mask with that ashamed expression, a blaring alarm.

Xie Lian's smile turned exasperated.

“I take it that I was on the right track?”

“Gege has astounding intuition.” Hua Cheng praised soberly.

“Hm,” Xie Lian mused. “And does it, by chance, have anything to do with He Xuan's large sum of debt?”

“I meant it when I said he owes me his life.” Hua Cheng replied, dark eye twinkling.

“I didn't realize San Lang was being sincere.” He hummed, already knowing what the answer would be.

“This San Lang is always sincere.”

Xie Lian's eyes crinkled upwards with his smile. “I know.”

A comfortable silence fell over them. Xie Lian absentmindedly started to stroke the pad of his thumb over Hua Cheng's wrist, feeling how lax he had become in his grip since it had been established that he was not in as deep of trouble as he imagined he would be.

“There was another reason that I...thought gege might be angry with me. Why I was upset with myself.” Hua Cheng started, breaking that spell of calm. He lifted his eye from where it rested on their joined hands, waiting patiently for the go ahead to continue speaking.

Xie Lian tilted his head. “What is it?”

“A promise,” Hua Cheng started with, lightly toying with the red string on his finger. “One that I broke.”

A beat of quiet, and then,

“With your mother.”

The faint, ever present smile on Xie Lian's face slowly faded. He didn't reply right away, and Hua Cheng didn't continue until Xie Lian had shuffled minutely closer, clutching that pale hand in his tightly. “How so?” He encouraged, searching the other man's face as it shifted from one complicated emotion to the next.

Hua Cheng exhaled, unsteady, and leaned in towards him. His shoulder brushed Xie Lian's. “Does gege remember that day he saved this one during a fight?”

Despite the heavy atmosphere that had crept in, he felt the sudden urge to grin when Hua Cheng mentioned it– ‘saved’ was a bold word to use. Hong'er had been doing pretty well for himself up until his nose was nearly smashed in.

“Quite vividly.”

“It was then,” Hua Cheng murmured. “When gege left the room to make tea for us. She sat this one down and had a serious talk with him. About you.”

Curiosity mounting, Xie Lian parted his lips to inquire after what had been discussed, but Hua Cheng beat him to the punch, “In the end, I told her that…although you would be going away for a while, I would wait.”

Xie Lian expected him to add more, to divulge the root of why he shouldered so much guilt, but wound up feeling at a loss when Hua Cheng only sat there in uneasy silence, preparing for his final verdict.

Clearly sensing he needed clarification, Hua Cheng added tentatively, “I…didn't. I tried, always, to find you, but I–”

“San Lang,” Xie Lian broke in, that tight feeling in his chest vanishing in an instant. Hua Cheng met his gaze, eye wide and filled with grief, and Xie Lian surged forward to tightly wrap his arms around him. The tension strung through the other man dissipated as he was brought closer, enveloped warmly, his hands slipping behind to grasp at Xie Lian's upper back. Xie Lian breathed out despairingly, resting his head in the space between Hua Cheng's neck and shoulder.

“You didn't break anything.”

He heard a sharp intake of air, and then a rattling whisper of, “I should have stayed put. I–”

“No,” Xie Lian interrupted. “I'm so glad that you didn't. You have no idea how I would feel to know that you had wasted so much of your life in one place, never experiencing anything for yourself. You've done so much in just this handful of years– I don't even want to picture a scenario in which you limited yourself in that way because of a burden that wasn't yours to bear. Because of a promise you hadn't broken. You didn't stop waiting. Keeping yourself moving, having a life that belongs to you, is not betraying anyone– not me, and not my mother.”

“Gege,” Hua Cheng rasped.

Xie Lian held him securely, and didn't let go until the younger had gone entirely limp in his hold. His own chest was damp from where Hua Cheng had buried his face into it, and Xie Lian pulled back just far enough to look at him.

When he saw a tearstricken face, unguarded and openly exposed, he lifted his hands to cup the other's cheeks.

“I'm so proud of you. And I know she would be, too.” He whispered, a fluttering ache rising up inside of him as Hua Cheng uttered a noise of defeat, like he had given up his last bit of composure while bracing himself against Xie Lian's palms.

“Gege is trying to kill this San Lang,” He complained, voice thick and a little nasally.

“She adored you, you know,” Xie Lian smiled, letting go for just a moment in order to reach into the back pocket of his borrowed shorts and grab the silken handkerchief he always kept on his person for situations like these. It was either that or tissues, when he had the room for them. He could see that the skin around Hua Cheng's visible eye was irritated and puffy– he couldn't imagine what the other was like, tears trapped behind that patch with nowhere to go.

Xie Lian's hand, lifted near his face, had paused as he surveyed the black covering. Hua Cheng hesitated for a few moments, studying him closely.

With his hypothesis/theory/so proclaimed ‘astounding intuition’ proven true, he now was almost positive that it existed for a reason other than insecurity. Pulling himself back to reality, Xie Lian resumed his task and began dabbing gently at the wetness on the youth's cheeks.

“...It's okay, gege,” Hua Cheng said, catching him a little off guard. Xie Lian stopped what he was doing, peering back at him with a small, distracted smile.

“Mn? What's okay?”

Hua Cheng reiterated with one of his own, “To ask questions. I'll answer to the best of my ability.”

“Ah,” Xie Lian lowered the cloth. “I was just thinking, your other eye probably feels uncomfortable right now.”

“Gege is right, as usual,” Hua Cheng admitted with a short huff of laughter. “I'll take it off.”

When he started to reach behind his ear where the string disappeared into his hair, Xie Lian could almost feel his palpable fear, so well hidden in the casual way he spoke, rebounding off of him like static energy.

That illusion of confidence was betrayed by the fumbling of his fingers at the knot, knitted brows twitching in frustration, and Xie Lian raised a hand in a kind motion for him to stop. “Let me?” He offered. Hua Cheng didn't take his eye off of him, giving his consent in the meaningfully slow incline of his head so Xie Lian would have better access.

As he extended his hands behind the man's head, brushing over the string and grasping the tied off end, loosening the cord, he wondered if it wouldn't have been better to just let Hua Cheng do it himself after all– he was even clumsier.

At last it came undone, and Xie Lian carefully lifted it away, setting it off to the side where it wouldn't be lost.

With both of Hua Cheng's eyes angled down, staring resolutely at the blue and white tiles, Xie Lian didn't discern what was unusual right away with them.

As for the site of current observation, though...

He hadn't seen him ever forgo that patch– not since Hua Cheng had displayed a preference for his contacts in school, but he noticed right away that something was…undeniably different in comparison to his last view.

Where the skin of his eyelid should have been smooth, there was a thin, jagged scar going vertically down the center– it began directly beneath his brow and stopped at the top of his cheekbone, right below the socket.

He hadn't been wrong in assuming his reason for covering it now was due to an injury.

Hua Cheng cautiously met his gaze when he heard nothing after almost fifteen seconds, and Xie Lian drew back slightly at the renewed sight of him, feeling his own eyes widen in astonishment at what awaited.

At his mother and father's old home, there was a beloved silver maple tree in the backyard that stood tall and proud, anciently beautiful. It had nestled on the bank of what, long ago, was only the very beginnings of a stream.

Decades passed and, as the creek widened its path, the gnarled roots of the tree were exposed bit by bit, worn smooth by the current– so wide that he could comfortably sit on top of them, legs swinging, or fully lay across to stare up into the swaying leaves as they moved with a breeze.

With the passing of summer, bridging into autumn, he impatiently watched for the first signs that its star shaped leaves were starting to shift colors, plucking the eager ones off the ground when they fell and flattening them out to be introduced to his mother's scrapbook.

Nothing ever came close to witnessing it in its full fiery bloom at the peak of the fall season.

Each day without fail, Xie Lian would cross the threshold of his bedroom to curl up at the loveseat in front of his window, watching as the dying sun beamed upon it like a match had been lit, settling it brilliantly aflame.

Nothing had ever come close, so nothing could have braced him for something that outdid it tenfold, magnifying the sheer loveliness of that crimson maple and condensing it into one striking iris. Hua Cheng's eyes were–

”Beautiful…”

Xie Lian didn't hear himself say the word aloud, too lost in his dissociative inspection, but Hua Cheng did.

He jolted, shoulders straightening as his eyes went round in surprise at the captivated whisper escaping softly parted lips, locking with entranced golden browns.

Piercing and soft all at once, the right burned like a pocket of molten red amber, seeming to shift between that dazzling, rich vermillion to deep, earthy russet hues as he sat back, leaning into the slanted white glare of the overhead lighting inside the building.

Xie Lian could only imagine how they looked when hit by the sun. He had been so charmed by their enthralling shade that he was just now discovering another lovely peculiarity; the shape of his pupil.

“San Lang…” Xie Lian lifted the subtly patterned handkerchief to complete its original course, swiping away what moisture was leftover beneath Hua Cheng's eye that couldn't have been accessed previously.

Subconsciously he'd tipped closer to get a better look at the anomaly, and found that it wasn't a trick of the shadows in their hideaway like he'd thought.

Hua Cheng's pupil appeared to dip dramatically downwards, as though it were leaking to the base of his iris– it gave it an almost cat-like slant, eerily lovely.

He had so many questions, so many he thought he surely was going to burst with them, but he also knew that Hua Cheng had provided him with an opportunity through his bravery that was unfair to extort.

“Gege thinks it's pretty, still?” Hua Cheng led with, smiling diffidently, and Xie Lian stammered a bit on the spot, a rush of warmth surging to his cheeks.

“O-Of course, I do! San Lang, I can't believe you would hide this– ah, unless it causes you trouble?”

His mind circled back to the healed scarring over the lid– from simply looking, he couldn't determine whether Hua Cheng's eye had actually been affected, but he was sure his pupil was another matter.

“En,” Hua Cheng confirmed, the space separating his brows creasing. Gesturing to where he had been injured, he explained calmly, “Courtesy of the people that idiot He Xuan got involved with. There was no permanent damage to my eye, but it's not good to look at.” Xie Lian was about to vehemently insist otherwise when he continued, noticeably more timid, “The irregularity with my pupil is caused by a birth defect called a coloboma.”

“Ahh,” Xie Lian had read a bit about varying eye-related anatomy texts off his mother's shelf and for his biology classes forever ago. He recalled having to write an essay on several genetic disorders of his choice, and among them was heterochromia in a variety of species.

He might have skimmed over a passage or two about colobomas, but it had been so long since he last researched anything for academic purposes that he may as well pretend he didn't understand anything about them.

“I believe they're always congenital, right? Meaning they can't be formed later in life, and aren't progressive in appearance. But, they can present issues with time.”

Hua Cheng nodded, smiling with more confidence— it was pure habit for him to fall in line in conversations of this nature; Xie Lian knew a bit of everything, always giving him something to play off of. Even when he was uncertain, he posed significant questions and listened intently, showing a genuine desire to be involved and comprehend.

“This San Lang couldn't put it better.”

Xie Lian's cheeks tinged a rosy shade of red, and he cleared his throat softly to ask, “What about yours?”

“Mine isn't too bad. It makes that eye sensitive to light, because of how it filters in through the pupil. But for others, it can also cause blurry vision.” He explained, earning a satisfied hum from the other man. Xie Lian was relieved to hear that it didn't drastically change his quality of life.

“The colored contact I wore in high school actually helped, because it prevented light from penetrating it to a degree. It was too annoying to wear all the time, though, so I eventually traded it for the patch. More convenient.”

“It suits you." Xie Lian stated a bit lamely.

“The coloboma or the eyepatch?” Hua Cheng questioned.

”San Lang!”

Hua Cheng started laughing, and Xie Lian shoved playfully at his chest, smiling wide, “Both.”

When his snickering had died down, Hua Cheng smiled warmly at him, “I'm glad gege approves.”

They both sat and talked for what felt like hours, their chatter going this way and that– neither of them could resist hopping from topic to topic. Hua Cheng caught him up on what else he'd been doing all these years, updating Xie Lian's extremely outdated file, and he exchanged some of his own stories as well at the behest of the other man, who had affixed his patch back where it belonged.

(“I'll help you ice your skin later. Shi Qingxuan taught me a trick!” “Alright, gege.”)

Huddled together in their tiny alcove away from the commotion on the other end of the mall, laughing over something or other, Xie Lian had all but forgotten their presence being needed where rewards were surely being passed out imminently. He likely wouldn't have remembered whatsoever if their hiding spot hadn't been breached, disrupted by a displeased scoff and a voice belonging to an individual that saw no need to control their volume,

“There you are!”