Work Text:
The thing was, up until Feng Xin entered the hotpot restaurant to meet his childhood friend for dinner, he had been having a fair to middling day.
Once he reached the reception area and laid eyes on the other person cooling their heels near the empty host stand, his mood plummeted. Dressed in a neat, dark suit, they turned from the host stand with an annoyed huff, and the abrupt movement brought Feng Xin face to face with Mu Qing.
“What—” Feng Xin began, and was cut off by Mu Qing’s angry exclamation.
“You!” Mu Qing aimed a finger at Feng Xin. His face contracted in a scowl.
Feng Xin frowned at him twice as hard, holding eye contact until Mu Qing scoffed and turned his back on him.
“Ugh, you’re not here by coincidence, are you?” Feng Xin guessed. He palmed at his forehead. Only the optimism of Xie Lian would have him inviting Mu Qing to the same dinner with Feng Xin after the falling out they’d had years ago.
Mu Qing made a short, harsh noise that resembled an angry cat.
The hostess returned to the front of the restaurant right then. “Okay,” she said, transferring her attention from Mu Qing to Feng Xin, who gave her what probably came across as a pained smile. “And you’re here for…?”
“The reservation under Xie,” Feng Xin replied.
“Same,” Mu Qing said curtly.
The hostess gave them a short bow and gestured for them to follow. “Come with me, please. Your booking party is already seated.”
Mu Qing moved out ahead of Feng Xin, already positioned to step into the seating area of the restaurant. Feng Xin fumed as he followed in Mu Qing’s wake. If this dinner was part of some misguided attempt of Xie Lian’s to get the two of them to reconcile, they would disappoint him in short order. In fact, it would be a small-scale miracle if they could get through an entire meal in the same space.
From the corner of his eye, Feng Xin spotted a maple-red Tang suit jacket and didn’t think much of it. He only took a closer look when the hostess began to guide them toward the table where the man in red was seated. Feng Xin noted a strong side profile partially obscured with a sweep of black hair before he spotted Xie Lian seated beside the red-jacketed man.
Xie Lian locked eyes with Feng Xin, smiling, and lifted his hand in a little wave. His dark hair was pinned half-up in a messy bun and he wore a cream-colored garment more reminiscent of a changshan top with subtle gold piping. It suited him well, and Feng Xin was relieved to see that his old friend wasn’t in the shabby state from their first meeting weeks ago, prior to Xie Lian extending the invitation to dinner.
At the time, Feng Xin had thought the invite was to renew their friendship, but he was starting to wonder, given Mu Qing’s presence.
And next to Xie Lian was Hua Cheng, the man in red.
“You!” Mu Qing uttered, stabbing a finger in a very rude pointing gesture at Hua Cheng, sounding just as angry as before.
“Your table, sirs,” the hostess murmured. She beat a swift retreat.
Feng Xin could hardly blame her. He kind of wished he could follow. He moved forward, knocking his elbow rudely against Mu Qing’s side because the man was standing in his way.
“Lianlian, I can’t believe you invited this guy,” Feng Xin said in a complaining tone, hooking a thumb at Mu Qing and stepping closer to the table. It was a booth, leaving Feng Xin with the unpleasant options of letting Mu Qing box him in, or allowing Mu Qing to sit closer to Xie Lian. As he stood there trying to decide, his attention strayed to the dark-haired man seated beside Xie Lian.
It was Feng Xin’s turn to make an angry noise. It had been a while since he’d seen Hua Cheng, but he would recognize the ruthless, no good head of the Crimson Rain Group anywhere. The man had issued a personal challenge to destroy him, after all.
“Lianlian?” Hua Cheng’s deep voice rumbled, rich with amusement.
“Forget you heard that!” Xie Lian said, waving his hands in an “X” formation at Hua Cheng. “Childhood nickname.”
“I’m leaving,” Mu Qing announced.
“Wait!” Xie Lian exclaimed.
Feng Xin clenched his fists. He stayed where he was, if only to prove to Mu Qing out of spite that one of them was capable of not leaving. “Why did you want us to come?” He was proud of himself for keeping his voice low and composed. He glanced at Hua Cheng, who was looking at neither of them but instead at an unpopulated stretch of restaurant along the opposite wall, a sneer poised to bloom in the twist of his mouth.
Xie Lian looked up at Feng Xin, eyes pained. “Can’t I ask a couple of old friends to meet me for dinner to catch up and share some important news?” His tentative smile turned brittle and his head drooped.
Feng Xin heaved a sigh. There was nothing for it.
“Okay, okay,” he said. He slid into the side of the booth nearest Xie Lian.
That got Hua Cheng’s attention. His dark eye snapped onto Feng Xin like a tracking device and remained on him with unnerving intensity.
Feng Xin ignored him with effort and lifted his chin at Mu Qing. “You were leaving?”
Mu Qing was gritting his teeth so hard, he had to be in danger of chipping a tooth. “You’re paying.” It wasn’t framed as a question.
“Ho?” Hua Cheng began, and looked like he’d say more, but Xie Lian put a hand over his. “Of course I’m paying. Like there’d be any fight for the check.” His sneer was back.
Feng Xin frowned at that hand placement as Mu Qing went rigid.
“I invited you out for this, so please, let us pay,” Xie Lian said with the most earnest face.
Mu Qing muttered something unintelligible and slid into the space beside Feng Xin like seating himself on hot coals.
“I thought a chicken broth and a mala broth would be a safe bet to order for the table, but wanted to wait until you both got here!” Xie Lian said. His smile was wider and more genuine.
“Fine, whatever,” Feng Xin said. He wasn’t picky about hotpot, especially if he wasn’t paying, but he had a sinking feeling. “I have to ask, though, what’s he doing here?” He gestured toward Hua Cheng.
“You are as subtle as a brick,” Mu Qing said beside him, giving him a withering look.
Feng Xin stiffened. “You—”
“Ah, that’s one of the reasons I invited you,” Xie Lian interjected. He still had his hand on Hua Cheng’s.
Feng Xin’s unease grew the longer that slender, fine-boned hand remained atop Hua Cheng’s hand. It was an anxious stab in his gut.
“No way,” Mu Qing said in an incredulous undertone. “Xie Lian, he’s…”
“He’s my boyfriend!” Xie Lian announced, flushed and beaming.
Feng Xin turned his head to try and hide his grimace and met Mu Qing’s pained expression.
“Hua Cheng?” Feng Xin exclaimed, trying to wrap his mind around it. The ruthless CEO of a string of high-end nightclubs, dating their gentle white lotus Xie Lian. It was impossible to reconcile.
“That’s me,” the man himself spoke up, sounding hugely amused. He took his hand from under Xie Lian’s, settling his arm around Xie Lian’s waist instead and pulling him closer.
“Unbelievable,” Mu Qing said.
Xie Lian shrank back against Hua Cheng, who tightened his arm around Xie Lian and turned his glare on Mu Qing.
“I...I know it will take some getting used to, but…” Xie Lian faltered.
“No, not that,” Mu Qing said. “Although, yes, you’ve never dated anyone before, or even shown an interest, not even when…”
Feng Xin knew exactly why he cut short, because Xie Lian’s parents would always be a topic they’d hesitate to breach. Xie Lian’s mother had ever been keen to try and find a good match for him, but he had always put her off, citing his studies as his foremost concern.
“I mean, you weren’t even dating after graduation,” Feng Xin picked up the thread with awkward determination. “I guess it was starting to seem like you were asexual, or whatever they call it. Incel?”
“Not incel, dumbass,” Mu Qing hissed.
“Ah,” Xie Lian said. “Haha. Yeah. No, I am definitely not that.” He was blushing.
Feng Xin had to cover his face with both hands so that he could stop seeing it. No, that wasn’t much better, because the sight of Hua Cheng smirking while Xie Lian blushed was embedded in his mind’s eye.
“Why him?” Mu Qing asked, to the point as usual.
Xie Lian made a wounded noise.
“I’m right here,” Hua Cheng said. “You’ll hurt my feelings.”
Feng Xin peeked through his fingers in time to see Hua Cheng baring his teeth at Mu Qing.
“Oh, you have feelings?” Feng Xin couldn’t help himself.
“Feng Xin!” Xie Lian exclaimed, shocked. “I can hardly order the two of you to recite idioms back and forth, but can we at least be civil for a meal?”
Feng Xin drew himself up, glanced sideways at Mu Qing and saw his reluctance, and decided in a burst of pettiness that he could be the better of them. “I can do that. Yes.” For Lianlian, he could be civil for the duration of a meal.
Mu Qing expelled a harsh breath. “Fine,” he gritted.
It took a great effort for Feng Xin to avoid shooting a surprised glance his way. He’d been expecting Mu Qing to eject himself from the booth and declare it an impossible ask.
Xie Lian offered them a hopeful smile. “Then, how does a chicken broth and a mala broth sound? We thought the premium beef combo would work for everyone.”
Mu Qing said something under his breath.
Hua Cheng raised a brow, cupping his free hand to his ear. “Did you say something?”
“Tomato broth,” Mu Qing said.
Feng Xin caught on and gave a quick nod. “Tomato instead of chicken? Mala is fine.” It was just like Xie Lian to choose two flavors that other people preferred, and none for him. Mala was Mu Qing’s broth of choice and Feng Xin liked chicken, but both of them were okay with tomato. He’d happily give up his preference so that Xie Lian could enjoy his meal.
From across the table, Hua Cheng narrowed his eyes at Feng Xin but said nothing. He raised his hand to catch the server’s attention, waving it idly until a young woman with a black apron around her waist bustled to their tableside.
“Excuse me, thank you,” Hua Cheng greeted her. “We’re ready to order.”
Feng Xin could only envy the ease with which he’d commanded attention. That CEO aura, he supposed, and that brought him back to fuming over the fact that he was at a table with Hua Cheng, the man who had challenged him to bet his new business against Hua Cheng’s entire string of nightclubs. He hadn’t taken him up on it, and Feng Xin knew it was the only thing that had saved him.
The hostess bent toward the table with a flirtatious smile, pointing to the QR code near his side. “Sure, you can scan here, but I can take it for you…”
“That’s quite all right,” Xie Lian spoke up, steel tone cloaked in the gentle civility of his words. “We can figure it out from here.” He shifted his grip on Hua Cheng’s hand, no longer covering it, lacing their fingers together instead.
Feng Xin stared openly. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw Xie Lian with such an attitude.
Mu Qing made a small, disbelieving noise in his throat.
Hua Cheng wasn’t even looking at the hostess. His attention was fixed on Xie Lian, a besotted smile transforming his face.
The hostess backed away, smile gone like a candle snuffed out.
“A-anyway.” Feng Xin smothered a self-conscious cough into his fist. “Xie Lian, what did you say you were up to, now?
Some of the sharpness faded from Xie Lian’s demeanor as he turned wide eyes back to Feng Xin. “Oh, I didn’t mention, did I? You were gone so quickly.”
Feng Xin tried not to squirm. In the next second, Hua Cheng’s gaze was on him too, and he was regarding Feng Xin like he’d discovered some kind of bug trapped in amber. “Sorry, I...had an appointment.” He couldn’t even remember. It had been so disconcerting to see Xie Lian dressed down in a smudged gray sweater and shabby yoga pants, his hair up in a messy bun, something that could have been coffee grounds or dirt freckled along one side of his face and jaw. He’d excused himself as fast as possible to get away.
“I work at the recycling center,” Xie Lian said. His mouth quirked into a brief smile.
“Oh.” Feng Xin was at a loss for words.
“What about your degree?” Mu Qing had something to say, at least. “Weren’t you going to finish your business degree then reclaim…”
“Ah, how boring!” Hua Cheng exclaimed. He sat up straighter, a knee knocking into the table and jostling it.
Mu Qing stiffened, making another angry noise that he bit off.
Feng Xin heard it, but was looking at Xie Lian and saw his expression dim.
“I...that’s not important to me anymore,” Xie Lian said in a more subdued manner, eyes downcast.
“Not important—!” Mu Qing started.
“Enough,” Feng Xin said. “It’s up to him, isn’t it?”
Mu Qing turned a furious look on him. Before he could accuse him of whatever grievance he doubtless wanted to lay at Feng Xin’s feet, Hua Cheng spoke up again.
“Exactly,” Hua Cheng said. “Gege’s life decisions are his own.”
“Uncle Jun took over the company.” Xie Lian looked up, a light of defiance kindling in his eyes. “Let those who have aptitude for the work take the job. San Lang...San Lang offered to take back the company for me, so it’s not… it’s not like I didn’t have the chance.”
“Then…” Feng Xin prompted, leaning forward. He brought his heel down on Mu Qing’s foot when Mu Qing drew in a breath next to him.
Slowly, Mu Qing’s head turned and the heat from his glare was fit to sear skin.
Xie Lian settled back into the circle of Hua Cheng’s arm. “I just want to live well, and do what I enjoy doing.”
Feng Xin nodded and reached for the teapot as it was delivered to the table. He understood now. Xie Lian had been through enough, and given the opportunity to wrestle his birthright from the hands that had grasped it, he chose instead to live well.
It was something that Xie Lian’s mother would have wanted for him. His father would have raged, no doubt...but Feng Xin had seen all too often how father and son had clashed in the times leading up to the Xie family’s downfall. How many times that man had been in the wrong in Feng Xin’s opinion was something he kept close to his vest.
“And you enjoy...recycling.” Mu Qing’s voice was biting.
“Yep!” Xie Lian gave them a bright smile. “Taking that which others have no use for, and making sure everything has a chance for its purpose to shine. I enjoy it very much.”
Feng Xin couldn’t help but smile back. He tempered it when he felt Hua Cheng’s appraisal on him again.
Before he could formulate another question or Mu Qing could press further, the food arrived at the table and deeper conversation took a backseat to the mundane but communal chatter of portioning various items into broths, keeping an eye on cooking meat, and passing items from one side of the table to the other.
“Gege, have some gai lan,” Hua Cheng murmured, taking some from the broth and putting it in his bowl.
“Ah, San Lang, pork blood cubes,” Xie Lian said. He transferred some cubes from the platter to Hua Cheng’s bowl.
Beside Feng Xin, Mu Qing was stewing harder than the slow boil of the hot pot broth in front of them. The hairs along Feng Xin’s arm were prickling like the charged air of an oncoming storm.
“Here, there’s plenty of coriander,” Xie Lian said. He slid the bowl across the table toward Mu Qing.
Mu Qing was clenching his chopsticks so hard, it was a marvel they didn’t snap in his hand.
“Eat,” Feng Xin said, nudging Mu Qing with his elbow. He received a glare for his temerity. Feng Xin shrugged and began eating his own food. The sooner they dug in, the faster they could get out of there.
Across the table, Hua Cheng was piling wood ear mushrooms into Xie Lian’s bowl. All Feng Xin could think was, well, at least the man was attentive enough to be familiar with their former young master’s favorites.
Hua Cheng, though… Feng Xin caught himself before he shook his head. He applied himself to his food, casting wary glances across the table.
While they ate, the most that passed anyone’s lips was “pass that sauce, please” or requests to add more of something to one pot or the other. In time, one by one, they sat back from the table. Feng Xin finished his drink and looked across the table at Xie Lian, leaning back and patting his belly with a satisfied air.
Mu Qing had pushed his plate and chopsticks away first and was perched on the edge of the booth, poised to take flight.
“What was this about, really?” he asked. Beneath the line of the table, his hands were clenched across his knees.
Xie Lian gave an owlish blink. “I wanted to see how you are now,” he said slowly. “To see how you both are, after finally seeing you both after so long.”
“You’re sure that’s the reason?” Mu Qing’s tone was biting.
“Watch it,” Hua Cheng snarled.
“No, you watch it!” Mu Qing snapped back. “If you’re using him—”
Xie Lian’s brittle laugh broke the sentence off midway. “What could there be left to use, Mu Qing? The money Uncle Jun gave me for the company had enough for funeral expenses and finishing university. I had no inheritance, no future prospects…”
“Gege,” Hua Cheng said in a low, scraped-raw tone and Xie Lian broke off.
“Don’t say that,” Feng Xin said. It pained him that Xie Lian would speak of himself that way.
“You can’t even see it!” Mu Qing exclaimed, leveling a finger at Xie Lian.
“Speak respectfully to Gege or not at all,” Hua Cheng said in a fearsome tone. Without doing much more than shifting posture, he abruptly looked both larger and more imposing.
Both of Mu Qing’s hands hit the table hard enough to make the glasses rattle. “This is pointless!” He shot to his feet. “I’m not doing this. I won’t play along. I’m done here.”
“Mu Qing,” Xie Lian said, distraught.
“Mu Qing!” Feng Xin scrambled out of the booth too, halfway tempted to grab the man’s suit jacket and see what it got him. He was pretty sure he’d get decked, so he managed to hold back for Xie Lian’s sake and Mu Qing stalked out of the restaurant.
Feng Xin paused long enough to bow to Xie Lian in apology. “Ah, I’m sorry to run off like this.” He pressed his hands together.
Xie Lian gave him a weary smile. “It’s all right.”
“It’s not all right,” Hua Cheng muttered, glaring up at Feng Xin like it was his fault Mu Qing had left as though his tail had caught fire.
“Really, San Lang, it’s all right,” Xie Lian insisted. “Mu Qing is always like this.”
“That doesn’t make it right.” Hua Cheng glowered across the restaurant.
“Hua Cheng has a point,” Feng Xin said, making Xie Lian blink up at him, nonplussed. “I’m going after him for some answers, for all the good it will do.”
“Ah, you really don’t have to.” Xie Lian shook his head. “I shouldn’t have expected...I don’t know. Never mind.”
“For my own satisfaction,” Feng Xin clarified. “It was good to see you. Can we meet to catch up again sometime?”
Xie Lian blinked. He met Feng Xin’s eyes with a slow smile, leaning against Hua Cheng’s side and taking his arm. “I would like that.”
Feng Xin tried to ignore the fact that Hua Cheng’s gaze was boring a hole into his head, not unlike a sniper rifle’s sight. “I’d like that too.”
“You have my number,” Xie Lian reminded him.
Feng Xin nodded. “Thank you for the meal!” He would let Hua Cheng’s offer to pay slide without complaint, just this once.
He turned and hurried off. There was a good chance Mu Qing would be long gone by the time he got out of the restaurant, but he had to at least try. Behind him, he was pretty sure he heard Hua Cheng saying something like, well, at least one of them has some semblance of manners, Gege.
No matter what he’d said, that was definitely Xie Lian’s sweet, good-natured laugh in response.
Two steps outside of the front door to the hotpot restaurant, Feng Xin didn’t see anyone in the immediate vicinity. A hand smacked down on his shoulder. Acting on two decades’ worth of martial arts training, Feng Xin whirled and seized that hand, starting to bend it back into a wrist lock.
“It’s me!” Mu Qing yelled. “It’s me, Feng Xin, you moron!”
“Who’s the moron?” Feng Xin blustered back, letting go and smacking Mu Qing’s hand away.
Mu Qing gave him a death glare. “You, if you still can’t see through that transparently obvious gambit to use Xie Lian to get to us?”
“Wh-what?” Feng Xin stuttered, thrown completely off guard. “Mu Qing, the hell are you talking about?”
“He tried to take your company down, didn’t he? Right after Crimson Rain appeared on the business landscape.” Mu Qing was a little red in the face, but his dark eyes were sharp and clear.
“Yes, but…” Feng Xin said slowly. He was having trouble making whatever connection Mu Qing was implying.
Mu Qing snorted. “Walk with me,” he said. “We shouldn’t stay here. They could be out any minute.”
“I doubt it, they looked pretty cozy,” Feng Xin replied, but fell into step with Mu Qing as they headed toward the Metro. “If he’s going to dote on Xie Lian that much, they’ll probably order dessert.” Feng Xin recalled with a pang that Xie Lian had always liked his dessert, but it couldn’t be too sweet or he’d complain.
“Crimson Rain tried to buy out my brand-new business too,” Mu Qing said.
“What, really?” Feng Xin was shocked. He’d heard Crimson Rain Group had been involved in a wave of takeovers, but Mu Qing’s small detective services company would have been an unlikely target. It was far too specialized, even for a business enterprise seeking to diversify its interests.
Then again, Feng Xin’s martial arts studio had seemed to be an odd choice at the time, as well.
“Do you read the news at all?” Mu Qing rolled his eyes.
“I’m not much of a reader, especially not newspapers,” Feng Xin had to admit.
“Crimson Rain made its name here with its sudden takeover of thirty-three up and coming businesses,” Mu Qing told him. “I turned down the offer.”
“Hua Cheng challenged me, too,” Feng Xin said.
“I know he did.” Mu Qing was frowning. “There were only two businesses that escaped his overnight sweep. Yours and mine.”
Feng Xin put a considering finger to his chin. “But what does this have to do with Xie Lian?”
Mu Qing’s sigh was beyond aggravated. “Didn’t you recognize him, Feng Xin?”
“Huh?” Now Feng Xin was completely at sea.
“It’s that stalker freak!” Mu Qing exploded. “He even still looks at us the same, giving us those murderous looks while Xie Lian is right next to him. I guess I shouldn’t have expected you to recognize that red coral bead he braided into his hair.”
“You mean Hua Cheng?” Feng Xin was dredging through his memory, dredging… his eyes flew wide open. “No way! Not that deviant little fanboy!”
Mu Qing gave him a grim nod.
“The little kid that fell off the upper balcony during Shangyuan.” Feng Xin’s fist smacked into his opposite palm. “I can’t believe it. Hua Cheng is that kid?”
“The very same one,” Mu Qing said.
“Oh. Oh no,” Feng Xin breathed. “We have to warn Xie Lian!”
Mu Qing huffed and picked up the pace. “Now you get it.”
“I get it,” Feng Xin said. “We have to save Xie Lian from himself. So that talk about acquiring Xianle for Xie Lian was…”
“Obviously he’s intending to take it over from Jun Wu and absorb it into the Crimson Rain portfolio,” Mu Qing said. “But he’s about a thousand years too early to take on Jun Wu.”
“Yeah, he can take care of himself,” Feng Xin agreed. “It’s our job to save Xie Lian.”
“We have to be prepared, this time,” Mu Qing said. “I have no doubt he won’t see himself in need of saving.”
In the pit of his stomach, Feng Xin knew he was right. This time, they couldn’t fail their childhood friend. They had already failed him before, and it had cost Xie Lian nearly everything.
“We won’t fail again,” Feng Xin vowed.
Mu Qing’s dark eyes were a mirror of Feng Xin’s own determination.
🙤 · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ꕥ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · 🙦
“Ah, Feng Xin! There you are!” Xie Lian gave a small wave from the corner table he had secured on the wooden deck overlooking the piazza outside of Cafe Liang. He was beaming as he gestured to the sulky-faced Mu Qing beside him. “And look who else showed up!”
“Oh, it’s you,” Feng Xin said without enthusiasm. He was at a loss for how to react, knowing from his communication beforehand with Mu Qing that he’d planned to accept Xie Lian’s invitation.
Mu Qing had pressed for an answer on whether Hua Cheng would be there, and after being promised that Hua Cheng had business elsewhere, he’d agreed to take Xie Lian up on the suggestion to meet up for coffee. He’d passed along the info to Feng Xin, because there was strength in numbers and if they were going to tackle the prospect of wrestling the rose-colored glasses from Xie Lian’s eyes, it would take both of them.
“Come on, Feng Xin,” Xie Lian said in a wheedling tone. “Don’t hold a grudge. It’s been so long, and life can be shorter than we expect.”
Feng Xin settled into the seat beside Xie Lian with a grimace at the reminder. “About that, I’m sorry…”
Xie Lian gave a firm headshake. “Let’s not dwell on it.”
“I should have been there,” Feng Xin persisted. “You shouldn’t have been alone.”
Xie Lian leaned in toward the table, arms going around himself, head lowering. “What’s past is past,” he said. “It can’t be changed, and all we can do is move forward. If you want to apologize, you can help me sweep their headstones during Qingming.”
“I will,” Feng Xin said. He raised his brows at Mu Qing, who was looking down at his folded hands with a grim expression.
“Did you want coffee? Tea?” Xie Lian asked, scanning the code from the menu. “I’m paying.”
“No, you don’t have to!” Feng Xin exclaimed. Partly because he was sure that letting Xie Lian pay could be traced back to Hua Cheng’s money in some way, and he was determined not to be beholden to the man.
“We didn’t come here on the condition that you pay,” Mu Qing muttered. He straightened in his chair, giving Feng Xin a gimlet stare.
Feng Xin scoffed.
“You two,” Xie Lian said with equal parts affection and exasperation. “Can’t you get along for a single afternoon?”
“I’ll behave if he will,” Feng Xin said, even as Mu Qing snapped, “Tell him to rein in his attitude problem first.”
Xie Lian sighed. “Well, I’m getting coffee. If either of you want to add something to my order, that’s fine with me.”
Feng Xin and Mu Qing glared at one another over their perusal of the menu. Even if they were united in their determination to expose Hua Cheng to the unsuspecting Xie Lian, asking them to do anything more than tolerate each other was pushing it.
“What are you doing these days?” Xie Lian asked, leaning toward Mu Qing first with a pleasant smile.
“Detective work,” Mu Qing said. His brow furrowed. “Hua Cheng didn’t tell you?”
Feng Xin had to fight to keep the grin off his face. It was such a natural opening to the topic they were looking to tackle.
“Ha?” Xie Lian gave him a bewildered look. “Tell me what?”
“Oh, only that he tried to take over my company, a few years back.”
A queasy expression came over Xie Lian’s face.
“He tried to make a bet with me, to take over my business when I was just starting up,” Feng Xin put in.
“When was this?” Xie Lian asked. His gaze was fixed on the tabletop.
“It was a few years back, like Mu Qing said,” Feng Xin answered.
Xie Lian began to shake his head. “I hadn’t met San Lang again by that point.”
“Now, we’re not saying it’s—wait, met him again?” Feng Xin got stuck on that thought and it dragged him to a stop.
“Well, yes...San Lang went to our university. We had similar situations; he was expelled, I dropped out. It took him some time to clear up the misunderstanding, the same way it took me time before I was ready to return to university to finish my studies.” Xie Lian gave the explanation without a hint of guile.
“That doesn’t send up any warning flares for you?” Mu Qing challenged.
Xie Lian responded with a very pretty frown. “Mu Qing.” His tone was chiding. “What do you mean by that?”
“You said it yourself, he was expelled—”
“So?” Xie Lian’s frown deepened. “There was a matter that San Lang wasn’t at fault for, but took responsibility nonetheless. The truth came to light in the end.”
“Lianlian,” Feng Xin said. It was his turn to get the frown directed at him. “You really trust him.”
“Of course,” Xie Lian responded simply, and did not elaborate.
Mu Qing huffed. “You say you hadn’t met him again, but what if he was tracking you the entire time?”
Feng Xin gave him an alarmed look. That was off script.
“Mu Qing!” Xie Lian exclaimed, reproving. “There’s no need to be conspiracy-minded simply because the white lotus bloomed and has a sex life now.”
“S-sex life?” Feng Xin repeated, eyes wide. He must have misheard.
Mu Qing’s mouth dropped open and he looked poleaxed. “Xie Lian. He stole—”
“Enough!” Xie Lian’s hand hit the table and both of them jerked in their seats like flustered schoolboys. “Hua Cheng has not taken anything from me that I haven’t freely given!”
He said it with enough force that a little hush fell on all the nearby tables.
They stared at him in silence. Xie Lian stared back, cheeks reddening but expression set. Feng Xin didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
“I’m not comfortable with this topic,” Mu Qing said into the awkward pause.
Feng Xin huffed. The impulse for laughter was winning out.
“I just want to have an afternoon catching up, okay?” Xie Lian implored.
“Okay,” Feng Xin said. He was nodding before he quite realized.
Mu Qing shot him a look like he’d caught him slipping poison in his coffee.
“What?” Feng Xin mouthed. It wasn’t like they were going to manage to persuade Xie Lian of anything when he was in this kind of stubborn mood. His brows did a thing as he added a soundless “later.”
Mu Qing’s expression was somewhere between tortured and constipated, which meant he knew he had to concede the point, he just didn’t like it.
“Double-strength Americano, light cream, no sugar?” a deep voice asked next to the table.
“That’s me,” Xie Lian said, reaching for it. His head tilted upward. “San Lang!”
Feng Xin slouched in his chair, his own expression souring. “I thought he wasn’t coming.”
“Sorry, I was in the area between appointments and had to stop by and see the most beautiful man in the city.” Hua Cheng didn’t look remotely apologetic as he placed the drink in Xie Lian’s hand.
“Thank you, San Lang,” Xie Lian said. He angled his face as Hua Cheng stooped to kiss him.
Feng Xin had to turn his face away to at least try to hide his revolted expression. As he did, did, he caught sight of Mu Qing’s narrowed eyes.
It sure wasn’t doing much for the reputation as a stalker, showing up while Xie Lian was having an outing with friends. He was certain that was what Mu Qing was thinking, at least.
“How are things going here?” Hua Cheng asked.
“Just fine!” Xie Lian replied quickly.
Hua Cheng’s visible brow rose. “Is that right? I thought I heard raised voices.”
It was Feng Xin’s turn to send a thoughtful squint in Hua Cheng’s direction. How much of the conversation had he heard, exactly? And what he was saying sure seemed to imply that he was monitoring Xie Lian’s interactions on a level of detail that seemed controlling, at the very least.
His eyes met Mu Qing’s again. Without exchanging a word, Feng Xin could tell they were on the same page.
“It’s nothing, really,” Xie Lian told Hua Cheng. He reached up to pat Hua Cheng’s cheek, and Feng Xin couldn’t contain a grimace as the man closed his eye and leaned into it, seeming to preen. “Did you say you were between appointments?”
“Mhm, I should be getting back to the office.” He reached a hand out and drew a thumb along Xie Lian’s jawline, and Xie Lian...giggled. There was no other word to describe it. “Until tonight.”
“Yes, see you later!” Xie Lian said in a high-pitched voice. He put up a hand to the side of his face as if to shield himself from the sight of Hua Cheng departing. After a moment, he shook himself a bit and turned a flustered expression on Feng Xin and Mu Qing.
“Does he always do that?” Mu Qing asked.
“Do what?” Xie Lian blinked.
“Show up somewhere you said you were going to be,” Mu Qing elaborated.
“Huh? Oh, not always.” Xie Lian’s face was settling into a calmer expression. He sipped at his coffee and smiled.
“Not always?” Feng Xin repeated. He was proud of himself he didn’t increase the volume.
“Yes, every so often he likes to drop in on me and make sure I’m okay,” Xie Lian said.
“Xie Lian,” Mu Qing said sharply. “That makes you sound like some kind of mob boss’s wife.”
“W-wife!” Xie Lian’s hands flew up to his face, which was turning pink.
Feng Xin twitched. Why did Xie Lian have to fixate on that part?
“No, he...you...you’ve got it wrong, he...you see, he checks in to make sure nothing happened,” Xie Lian said, which didn’t improve on the previous statement one bit. “It’s just, I have really awful luck. I’ve been so unlucky since...well, since back then. San Lang has been the first change in my luck in a long time.” He sat back in his chair and sipped at his coffee, eyes going far away.
What could they say to that? A drastic change of subject was in order, because the current topic wasn’t going to work for their purposes.
“Do you still keep in fighting form, Lianlian?” Feng Xin asked. It wasn’t a graceful subject change, but it was something.
Xie Lian brightened. “I didn’t have much chance until lately, but I’ve been getting back into it.”
“That’s great! You should stop by the studio sometime,” Feng Xin said.
“Ah, well, we’ll see,” Xie Lian demurred.
“What, does Hua Cheng need to supervise that?” Mu Qing said. His sour look had only intensified.
“Huh?” Xie Lian’s hand went to his nape. “My schedule is so irregular, that’s all. I need a workout space that can be open whenever I might have free time to drop in.”
“Recycling has such demanding hours?” Feng Xin was amazed.
“Er...well, it’s not only that,” Xie Lian replied. He sat up a bit straighter in his chair, not meeting their eyes. “In addition to work, I volunteer at a soup kitchen. And, well, I also help in the afternoons with a program for disadvantaged youth.”
Across the table, Mu Qing was frowning. Feng Xin blinked down at the table a few times, staring hard at his knuckles. How could he say anything after that?
“I just...I don’t see…” Mu Qing stopped and cleared his throat.
“Hmm?” Xie Lian sipped at his coffee.
Feng Xin shook his head, hitting the table with his knuckles and making Mu Qing startle and glare at him.
“Well, you can stop by any time,” Feng Xin declared. “If you want to come by after hours, just do that. I can open the doors for a friend.”
“Feng Xin…” Xie Lian sounded troubled. “I don’t want to impose.”
“Not imposing.” Feng Xin gave him a crooked smile. “I’ll just stay late to do my paperwork some time, like Jian Lan keeps bugging me to do.”
Xie Lian huffed, raising a hand to hide his chuckle. “I see. Um, Jian Lan?”
“Oh, you...uh…” Feng Xin lifted a hand to scratch the side of his jaw. “You don’t remember?”
Xie Lian blinked and gave him a guileless smile. “Remember what?”
It was Feng Xin’s turn to try and smother a laugh. Xie Lian really never had paid attention to any of the women his mother had tried to set him up with. Well, seeing how happy Xie Lian was with...that guy...he supposed the reason was obvious now.
“Don’t worry about it,” Feng Xin replied.
Xie Lian leaned forward, brow creasing. “Wait, did I meet her? Before…ah, back then?”
Feng Xin’s face froze. “Y-Yeah, but it doesn’t matter. Really. She’ll probably be, ah, a bit miffed you don’t remember her, but…” He trailed off and shrugged.
Mu Qing folded his arms. “So I suppose you wouldn’t remember Jian Lan from one of Hua Cheng’s clubs, either?”
That made Xie Lian’s frown deepen. “Why would I…”
Both Feng Xin’s brows went up. Why would Mu Qing bring that up?
“She worked there,” Mu Qing interrupted harshly. “As an escort.”
Xie Lian scoffed. “San Lang shut down that side of the business.”
Feng Xin put a hand to his forehead. That was why Mu Qing was bringing it up. He was trying to drive home the point that Hua Cheng wasn’t a good person.
Mu Qing shrugged. “That’s how she ended up on the streets, then.”
“Not everyone can be saved,” Xie Lian snapped with unusual force. “But everyone was offered a choice. If she chose to leave instead of work as waitstaff or another position, that was her decision.”
Mu Qing inhaled sharply. “You—”
Feng Xin hit the table, harder than when he’d rapped with his knuckles, and they both jumped in their seats and stared at him. “Enough.” Feng Xin drew in a long, slow breath. He squared his shoulders. He gave Mu Qing a hard look before transferring his attention to Xie Lian.
Xie Lian gave him a nonplussed not-quite-smile, hunching in his chair.
Making himself smaller, Feng Xin realized. How long had Xie Lian been trying to make himself smaller?
Feng Xin shook his head. “Forget it,” he said. “She doesn’t care about that.” He knew it for a fact.
“But—” Mu Qing started.
“Forget it,” Feng Xin said, louder. Xie Lian had enough blame riding his shoulders without taking on more he hadn’t known about. “Lianlian, stop by whenever you want, and we’ll spar. And when you see Jian Lan, I’ll introduce you.”
As if you hadn’t met before, he didn’t say. And that would save face for them both.
“Um. Thanks.” Xie Lian’s voice was soft. His eyes were warm, though.
Mu Qing shifted in his chair and kicked a table leg.
“So,” Xie Lian said hesitantly, eyes shifting back and forth between them. “What are you up to now?”
Feng Xin raised his brows. “How are things in the detective business? Paying the bills?”
Mu Qing gave him a withering look. “You make it sound cheap and dishonorable.”
“”Wh-what?” Feng Xin sputtered. “When did I...how even…”
Xie Lian sat back and laughed. It was the ringing, merry peal of laughter that Feng Xin remembered, and he forgot his pique with Mu Qing for the moment.
“You two...you really haven’t changed,” Xie Lian said. There was fondness in his tone, and his eyes brimmed with mirth.
“I beg to differ!” Mu Qing bristled.
Xie Lian chuckled, less free of a sound than before, but still amused. “I only meant the way the two of you fight. You’ll never get along, huh?”
Feng Xin contemplated that. He caught Mu Qing’s eye again. They were going to have to do a lot better in order to expose Hua Cheng for what he really was.
Mu Qing sniffed, chin tilting to an imperious angle, and Feng Xin turned away, shaking his head.
Xie Lian’s laughter pealed out again. “Let’s get you a coffee, and tell me your most interesting case.”
That got Mu Qing to look over at him in surprise. Feng Xin propped his cheek on his hand and gave an attentive nod.
“Yeah, I want to hear it, too.”
🙤 · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ꕥ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · 🙦
The fashionable bronze and navy tie that Jian Lan had selected for Feng Xin was cutting off the blood supply to his brain, he was mortally certain of it.
“Are you sure this is a tie-formal dinner party?” Feng Xin asked pitifully, reaching up to try in vain to loosen the knot.
Jian Lan smacked his fingers without even glancing his way. “It’s one of Shi Qingxuan’s parties.”
“You say that like it should mean something to me,” Feng Xin said.
An aggrieved sigh answered him. “You’re supposed to be a successful businessman expanding your line of martial arts clubs, and you don’t know the dress code for a Shi Qingxuan party?”
“Well, isn’t that why I have you?” Feng Xin said. He tried to give her a suave grin, but Jian Lan rolled her eyes and looked away.
The name was familiar, but perhaps only by association. “I know I’ve been to a few of the parties that Shi Wudu throws, but I don’t know that I’d call them dinner parties.”
Jian Lan gave a quiet groan. “Hopeless. You’re really hopeless.”
“What?” Feng Xin was stung. It was too late for him to dig for more information. They were almost at the door of the upscale villa, which sat on its own plot of expensively manicured lawn. “I work really hard, you know.”
That got him a sigh and Jian Lan wound her arm through his. “You do your best,” she acknowledged. “Shi Qingxuan is Shi Wudu’s younger sibling.”
“Oh.” Feng Xin paused. “How did we get invited to this party again?”
He was expecting to get verbally roasted, but Jian Lan only looked thoughtful. “You know, I’m not sure. The invitation did come from Shi Qingxuan, though.”
“Huh.” Feng Xin stared at the aggressively teal front door and let out a quiet ‘oof’ as Jian Lan elbowed him after knocking. “What was that for?”
“Don’t grunt,” Jian Lan said. “You’re not in a studio full of sweaty boys. This is a group of high-powered executives.”
“Hey, I’m not—” The end of the sentence, that bad, died on his lips when someone wrenched the door open like they had been waiting for someone to knock. Or perhaps checking the peephole.
Feng Xin looked at the person who had answered the door, registering a few things at once. He couldn’t remember whether Shi Wudu’s sibling was a man or woman, but they seemed to be going for a ‘both/either’ kind of vibe, with flowing dark hair pulled half up, a delicate face half-hidden by a painted fan, and a hanfu-style garment that disguised the lines of their figure. The top was a vibrant shade of teal with white accents that harmonized with the door, and the inner robe was a harmonizing seafoam.
It was only thanks to Jian Lan that Feng Xin recognized the difference between any of those colors to begin with.
Feng Xin definitely recalled seeing them before at previous Shi Wudu parties, though he didn’t remember if they had been introduced.
“Hello! I’m Shi Qingxuan,” they said with a cheerful smile. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Feng Xin said automatically. He began to extend a hand, realized Shi Qingxuan had a fan in one hand and the other behind their back, and gave a brief bow instead.
“Not at all!” Shi Qingxuan fluttered the fan. “We haven’t sat down to table yet, and not everyone is here yet. You’re still in plenty of time.”
“We’ve brought some wine, sorry to be so presumptuous.” Jian Lan held it out for inspection. “I’m sure you have the menu set already, so please, feel free to save it for yourself for some other time.”
Most people wouldn’t even look at the label. At least, Feng Xin knew he wouldn’t. Shi Qingxuan did give the bottle a glance and beamed at Jian Lan.
“How delightful! Thank you, I will save it.”
On the back of similar courtesies, they were led further into the house. The hallway opened onto a spacious room decorated in white monochrome, a golden-sheened mirror wall on the far side of the room giving an impression of even greater space. It was visually striking, and also distracted from realizing the assembled guests were about half as many as there seemed at first glance.
Feng Xin scanned through the first groups of people he saw. He still could not fathom why they’d been invited.
“You remember my brother, Shi Wudu,” Shi Qingxuan said, leading them past the closest trio.
Feng Xin schooled his face to attentive seriousness and gave them a nod. Though he was a small fry in the local business pond, he knew enough about corporate goings-on to be familiar with the fact these illustrious personages were called the Three Tumors.
Not to their faces, of course. But from the guarded way they held themselves in social gatherings like these, Feng Xin was sure they knew well enough.
“Thank you for hosting us,” Feng Xin spoke up. Jian Lan didn’t even have to jab him with her pointy elbow, though her hand tightened on his arm. It was warning enough.
Shi Wudu gave a curt nod, not even bothering with a platitude like “It’s no trouble.”
“Ge,” Shi Qingxuan said with a frown.
Shi Wudu rolled his eyes. “You can thank my sister for organizing. I merely pay the bills.”
Sister Feng Xin seized on the tidbit of knowledge. Well, Jian Lan would remember if he forgot.
Beside Shi Wudu, Pei Ming lifted his chin in a scant greeting, saying nothing. He was elegantly attired in a charcoal grey suit and his long hair was loose, falling just past his shoulders. His suit was tailored closely enough it was obvious he stayed fit, and Feng Xin wondered if Pei Ming practiced a martial art. He had a reputation as a capable executive working in acquisitions.
“What a surprise to see you here,” Ling Wen said. She was blunt as ever, and Feng Xin responded with the kind of vacant smile that made her eyes narrow.
“Well, that makes two of us,” Feng Xin said. He scratched his ear.
“Feng Xin,” Jian Lan hissed.
“What? I’m only being honest.”
They were guided away—well, Jian Lan towed him—to the next group over. Ling Wen had a reputation for knowing everything. He didn’t remember what her business title was, but her meticulous research had earned her multiple industry-level awards.
Feng Xin dug his heels in as they reached the next pair. “What are you doing here?” he blurted in horror.
Hua Cheng angled his handsomely saturnine profile to fix his disdainful black eye on Feng Xin. “Oh, it’s you.” It was the unimpressed tone of a man who’d turned a rock with his shoe and found an insect.
Before Feng Xin could retort or Jian Lan could step on Feng Xin’s foot or some other indignity, Shi Qingxuan crossed the space between them, latching onto a tall, weedy man beside Hua Cheng.
The man was wearing a black suit salvaged from starkness by a subtly interwoven silver thread that caught the light with a shimmering pattern reminiscent of cresting waves. He had a narrow, almost gaunt face and deep-set eyes that seemed to brighten when they fastened on Shi Qingxuan.
“He-xiong!” Shi Qingxuan declared. “Have you missed me?”
“It’s been five minutes,” the man said flatly, but as she took his arm, his went around her waist.
“In case you haven’t been introduced, this is He Xuan,” Shi Qingxuan said. She turned a bright smile on them, as though to make up for the dour reception from the two men beside her.
Feng Xin inclined his head. “Hei Shui, isn’t it?” The formidable title was public knowledge rather than gossip. One of his businesses was named after it.
“I’m known as such,” He Xuan replied, turning his head to look at Shi Qingxuan instead.
Shi Qingxuan tittered and raised her fan.
“Qingxuan,” Hua Cheng began in a dark tone. The suit he wore was a striking contrast to the monochrome white of the room and He Xuan’s black suit. It was a deep red, fitted and stylish, and had the look of a Danshan suit that Jian Lan had been trying to get him to buy. Expensive, and trendy.
Feng Xin had the uncomfortable feeling he was missing something very obvious as Qingxuan hid behind her fan, ignoring Hua Cheng. Feng Xin shifted from one foot to the other, sending a help me look in Jian Lan’s direction. She responded with a slight shrug, eyes widening.
“I didn’t realize you were so big on networking, to attend one of Shi Wudu’s parties,” Feng Xin said to Hua Cheng, probing.
“Oh! This isn’t a networking event,” Shi Qingxuan interjected. She gave a pleasant, musical laugh, tapping her fan against her chin. “This is my dinner party. Huahua is He-xiong’s friend—”
“We’re not friends,” He Xuan said flatly.
“Never call me that again,” Hua Cheng said at the same time.
Feng Xin might have reacted to ‘Huahua’ if Hua Cheng weren’t glaring at him so hard, he thought his hair might catch fire.
“—so of course he’s on the list,” Shi Qingxuan concluded with a benevolent smile, ignoring both He Xuan and Hua Cheng.
“Ah, I see,” Jian Lan said, sounding as nonplussed as Feng Xin felt. That didn’t explain at all how Feng Xin had landed an invitation.
“Young master.” A man in formal robes materialized at the doorway that led to the front hall. “Your remaining guest is arriving.”
Shi Qingxuan shifted her fan to the crook of thumb and forefinger and clapped her hands. “Perfect, we can shift everyone to the dining room once I’ve shown him around.” She let go of He Xuan’s arm and headed for the hallway in a lively swirl of robes.
Feng Xin would have taken a step back if Jian Lan didn’t have such a firm grip on him. “Uh,” he said.
A muscle in Hua Cheng’s jaw twitched. “Oh? You’re still here?” His gaze was directed near Feng Xin without looking right at him.
“San Lang,” the warm, familiar voice was a balm to Feng Xin’s raw nerves.
“Gege!” Hua Cheng’s entire demeanor changed when Xie Lian reached the edge of their little circle of people.
Feng Xin bit his tongue and didn’t even wince when he tasted blood. This duality was exactly why he and Mu Qing had to expose the man. He was only presenting his best face to Xie Lian, when in reality, Hua Cheng was a bad and dangerous person.
“San Lang!” Xie Lian said again. He leaned into the arm that Hua Cheng slipped around his waist, beaming.
“It’s been five minutes,” He Xuan observed in a dour tone. “He only went to the bathroom.”
“Oh, please,” Hua Cheng said with a roll of his singular eye. “Like you’re any better.”
“You—”
“Ah, Feng Xin is here,” Xie Lian said, giving him an approving nod. “It’s nice to see you again so soon.”
Feng Xin was starting to put the pieces together. “You know Shi Qingxuan...through Hua Cheng?” he guessed.
Xie Lian beamed, nodding. “Qingxuan and I have become good friends.”
“I see...then, the invite to this dinner party…”
Xie Lian lifted his drink and took a few gulps. “I didn’t pull any strings, I swear!” His cheeks were crimsoning.
Feng Xin tilted his head. “I didn’t say you did. Well...anyhow, this is my partner, Jian Lan.”
Jian Lan had gone stiff beside him. When he introduced her, she was looking rather pinched.
“Pleasure to meet you,” Xie Lian said with a courteous nod.
Jian Lan’s indrawn breath sounded like a hiss. “You...really?”
“Hm?” Xie Lian blinked, turning confused eyes on them.
“Let it be,” Feng Xin said under his breath. It was his turn to make sure that Jian Lan navigated the social waters without being dragged into a treacherous undertow.
Hua Cheng was giving them an appraising look.
“Feng Xin, what—” Xie Lian began, as Jian Lan made a low noise in her throat that might have been the beginnings of a growl.
“Here he is!” Shi Qingxuan trilled from the edge of the room. “Everybody, welcome Mu Qing! Mu Qing, this is everyone! And now that we’re all here, we can sit down for dinner!”
Jian Lan pulled her arm out of Feng Xin’s like she’d been burned.
Feng Xin suppressed a sigh. It was going to be a long night.
“Feng Xin,” Xie Lian said again, taking a step closer as Jian Lan stalked off toward the dining area visible on the opposite side from where they stood. “Was it something I said?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Feng Xin told him. “It’s nothing that you need to resolve.”
It was something that Jian Lan had to come to terms with, Feng Xin had already realized. She’d acknowledged what he’d said to her the other day about Xie Lian not remembering her, giving him an absent nod that made him think she wasn’t terribly affected. He supposed being confronted with the stark reality of Xie Lian’s indifference was something else. No, it wasn’t indifference per se; rather, their interactions had failed to catch his attention as anything more than passing introduction.
Once upon a time, President Xie had arranged for Xie Lian and Jian Lan to meet, hoping to plant the seeds of affection if not love. She’d made so little of an impression, he hadn’t even recognized her the next time they had met at a Xianle function. At the time, Jian Lan had laughed it off and demanded that Feng Xin dance with her all night by way of compensation.
The thing was, Xie Lian had always been in a category all his own. He had always been exceptional, and he’d met many people, especially at the height of Xianle before the group’s downfall. It wasn’t even his fault he couldn’t remember most of them. It was simply that they’d failed to make an impact.
Feng Xin understood, because he’d seen it time and again. He was still mortally certain he and Mu Qing were only exceptions to Xie Lian’s habitual forgetfulness because they’d served as constant fixtures of his life for as long as they had been. Everyone else came and went, and no one else was at Xie Lian’s level.
He scowled at Hua Cheng, who was still staring at him with an inscrutable expression.
“Let’s take our seats,” Hua Cheng suggested, turning his attention back to Xie Lian, who responded with a lopsided smile and an awkward shrug.
Even in his awkwardness, there was a grace ever present in his slightest movement. It would sting, Feng Xin knew, for Jian Lan to have come face to face with Xie Lian, still as gorgeous as he’d been in his late teens. The further she was from his proximity, though, the more her self-esteem would reassert itself.
Her life didn’t revolve around Xie Lian. It never had, and perhaps she would realize she’d been lucky for that.
As they entered the dining area, Hua Cheng smoothly spun Xie Lian out to precede him through the doorway. He lingered for half a second, putting himself in step with Feng Xin.
“She knew him,” Hua Cheng observed in an undertone.
Feng Xin gave him a curt nod. “She was a failed matchmaking attempt.”
One of Hua Cheng’s brows rose. “I see.”
“She’ll get over it.” Feng Xin snorted, lifting a hand to contain the sound. Jian Lan was already at the dining table, circling it as though a cautious observation of the seats would tell her which would place her furthest from Xie Lian. “She did before.”
If possible, Hua Cheng’s brow winched up higher. “He’s forgotten her previously?”
Feng Xin gave a half-shrug. “He met a lot of people,” he said plainly. “You had to be truly outstanding to make an impression.”
Hua Cheng’s slow-spreading, shark-like smile made Feng Xin realize instantly that he’d made a strategic error. Because, of course, Xie Lian had remembered him, after all. Out of all the people he’d met over time, he’d remembered this one person.
“No, I mean—” Feng Xin tried to backpedal.
“Too late.” Hua Cheng was positively smug. “Hm, perhaps you’re not half bad.”
Feng Xin came to a stop, palming his face with one hand. The last thing he needed was to feed the man’s ego, or make him think he was a good match for Xie Lian after all.
“Watch it,” someone grated behind him. Feng Xin had to crane his head to see if it was He Xuan or Mu Qing, they both seemed the type to be irritable without pause. “You’re blocking the door.”
“Do you even know Shi Qingxuan?” Feng Xin asked, locking eyes with Mu Qing.
Mu Qing's breath hissed between his teeth.
“Okay!” Shi Qingxuan set aside her fan beside an elegant place setting and clapped her hands. “Thank you for coming, everyone, let's be seated so that A-Ming can start serving the first course.”
Feng Xin found a seat quickly next to Jian Lan, who turned her head away with an audible sniff. It wasn't even his fault, but Feng Xin was being punished for it.
Because he had no luck, Xie Lian and Hua Cheng ended up across the table, a couple of places over but within their line of sight. He braced himself for a frustrating night.
Shi Qingxuan clapped her hands again, drawing attention to herself. “All right! Because we don't all know each other very well, this is the perfect opportunity for one of my favorite icebreakers.” She beamed around the table.
Feng Xin tried to suppress his horror. He'd started out in the corporate lifestyle, it was true, but there was a reason that he didn't do well there.
“Two truths and a lie!” Shi Qingxuan picked up her hand-painted fan again, snapping it open and raising it to cover the lower half of her face. “He-xiong, and Ge, neither of you are allowed to guess. Unfair advantage.”
Feng Xin wondered if he could slip away to the bathroom and never come back. Would anyone notice? He wasn’t drunk enough for this kind of icebreaker.
“Qingxuan, do you really think,” Xie Lian began, sounding uneasy.
Shi Qingxuan waved him off. “It'll be fun!”
“That's certainly a word for it,” Hua Cheng muttered.
Feng Xin had thought, prior to that moment, he would have submitted to red hot splinters inserted under his fingernails rather than agree with Hua Cheng.
“I'll start,” Shi Qingxuan said, either happily oblivious or ignoring the side remarks and general expressions of dismay. “I have a reputation for wine pours at parties. I'm good friends with everyone in this room. I rescued my bosom buddy Xie Lian from a trash bin when we met.”
“Qingxuan,” Xie Lian said again. One of his hands came up to cover half his face, fingers pressing above the arch of his brow bone.
Mu Qing was sitting across the table next to Xie Lian, possibly to offset the fact that Hua Cheng was on his other side. His face twitched. “Obviously that one is the lie.”
“Um,” Xie Lian said.
Hua Cheng sighed loudly. “Qingxuan, this is an ill-considered game.”
“The last one…is a lie, isn't it?” Feng Xin said. There was a heavy lump settling in his stomach.
Shi Qingxuan blinked across the table at him.
“It's the second one,” Pei Ming interjected. “Qingxuan and I are not friends.”
Shi Qingxuan fluttered her fan, rolling her eyes at the same time. “Well, I wasn't going to say it, Pei-xiong.”
“The second one is the lie,” Ling Wen confirmed. “Qingxuan wouldn't call me a friend, either. Acquaintances at best.”
“And that's fine.” Shi Wudu spoke at last, and his tone was irked. “Hua Cheng is right, we should do something else. Perhaps Russian roulette would be less troublesome.”
“You’re no fun,” Shi Qingxuan said.
“Wait,” Mu Qing said. “Go back. Xie Lian, what's this about a bin?”
“There's no need to get into it,” Xie Lian replied with a strained smile. “I told you, my luck has been very bad.”
“Look, I know things must have been difficult…” Feng Xin trailed off. He didn't know how much everyone else knew, and there was no sense getting into it. That would be the surest way to kill the mood. “But surely, Jun Wu could have helped?”
You didn't have to rely on Hua Cheng, he wanted to say, but that was a path he wasn't going down with the man himself seated there glowering at him.
He Xuan snorted so loudly, it sounded like a sneeze. Half the table stared at him.
“Jun Wu is not the kind of person that one should turn to if you need a hand up from dire straits,” Ling Wen said. She seemed to be choosing her words with care.
Across the table, Xie Lian had picked up his napkin and twisted it in his hands into a knot.
“What are you talking about?” Mu Qing said. “Jun Wu was always helping, even when Xianle’s fortunes took a turn for the worst.”
This time it was Xie Lian who made a noise, but it sounded wounded.
“Ah,” Hua Chang said, sending a glare across him toward Mu Qing.
“Jun Wu,” Shi Wudu said, each word clear and distinct, “is not an altruistic man.”
Feng Xin shifted in his chair, looking away from Xie Lian's lowered head to assess the rest of the table. There was a mix of discomfited expressions. Shi Wudu was inscrutable at the head of the table.
“What do you mean by that?” Feng Xin asked. He'd always seen Jun Wu as a benefactor, someone who had been there to support Xie Lian as his parents had fallen from grace and Xie Lian had been dragged down with them.
Xie Lian was the former golden child, the face of Xianle, and he had been treated more harshly than even his parents. Everyone had known who he was, after all.
“That means it's time to change the subject,” He Xuan said bluntly.
“Jun Wu is not a good person,” Ling Wen murmured. It was said an undertone, but loud enough to hear.
Mu Qing looked like he'd taken a shot of lemon juice instead of sipping on the light soup that was being served tableside.
Feng Xin focused on the bowl that was placed in front of him rather than take in any more discomfort. It was a deep bowl glazed with sea blue, and the soup within appeared to be some kind of bisque rather than a Chinese soup. A long, thin rectangular cracker was balanced across the center line of the bowl and there were dots of black caviar interspersed with tiny white dollops.
It was the kind of haute cuisine meal that Feng Xin never felt comfortable eating. He had to pay attention to his seatmates just to figure out how to consume it.
Across the table, He Xuan had picked up the cracker in his hands and he was dipping it into his soup and popping it into his mouth, eating bite by bite. That had to be wrong.
“He-xiong…” Shi Qingxuan began.
“No,” He Xuan replied.
Shi Qingxuan sighed. “Huahua?”
Hua Cheng huffed. “Cheng-xiong, if you must.”
Shi Qingxuan made a disappointed noise.
“But I'll go next,” Hua Cheng continued, a gleam in his eye. He was breaking small pieces off his cracker, balancing the remainder on the saucer beneath the bowl, and putting the cracker piece on his spoon before dipping the spoon into the soup.
Feng Xin hated to follow suit, but he had a feeling that was the correct way to eat the dish.
Xie Lian gave a deep sigh. Hua Cheng patted his hand.
“Hua Cheng is an assumed name,” Hua Cheng began.
Feng Xin rolled his eyes. Everyone knew that. He was throwing away his first guess.
There was an intense look in Hua Cheng’s eye when he leaned forward. “I carried out a hostile takeover of the thirty-five businesses of the people most responsible for my beloved’s misfortunes.”
Xie Lian said nothing to this, but reached for Hua Cheng’s hand on the tabletop and took hold of it.
Feng Xin sat back in his chair and frowned. Wait, did he mean…
“And I’m very committed to making sure my beloved is satisfied in every way, even if I must show my devotions thrice nightly.” The expression on Hua Cheng’s face was positively devilish.
“San Lang!” Xie Lian wailed, covering half his face with a hand.
“Wait.” The rate of Shi Qingxuan’s fanning picked up. “Which is the lie? They all sound like the truth!”
“That’s the best way to lie, Qingxuan,” Shi Wudu said with the doting condescension of an instructive older brother. “Make sure to provide three pieces of information that sound like the truth, excepting perhaps a minor detail.”
Feng Xin caught Mu Qing’s eyes from across the table. They shared a troubled frown.
“That can’t be right,” Mu Qing said.
“Oh? Which one?” Hua Cheng’s drawl was dangerous.
“It’s the second one, isn’t it?” Pei Ming guessed. “I recall the successful takeovers of thirty-three businesses. It’s been the talk of the business community ever since. You were so young when you pulled it off, too.”
Hua Cheng inclined his head. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Pei Ming raised his glass. “You have my respect and admiration, and I hope we’re never enemies.”
“Same here,” Hua Cheng replied, amiable.
Feng Xin frowned harder. “That can’t be true,” he said. He’d barely held back from calling Hua Cheng a liar out loud. “Because the only two businesses that you didn’t take over were…” He trailed off, staring at Hua Cheng.
The man had his chin on his free hand and was giving Feng Xin a predatory look. “The two that failed to accept my challenge.”
“That’s bullshit!” Mu Qing exploded, shooting to his feet.
“Ahaha, Ge, I think you’re right, this is the wrong kind of icebreaker,” Shi Qingxuan exclaimed, snapping her fan shut and setting it beside the cutlery.
Jian Lan, who had been silent until that moment, gave a bitter laugh. “It’s all about his misfortune, his suffering, isn’t it?”
“Watch what you say at this table,” He Xuan said coldly.
“That’s right, everyone has to be careful not to offend that most important personage!” Jian Lan got up from her seat, tossing her napkin on the table. “Excuse me. I’ve recalled I have urgent business elsewhere.”
Hua Cheng watched her go, expressionless. Xie Lian looked conflicted, but said nothing.
“Why did you invite me here?” Feng Xin asked Shi Qingxuan directly. There was no Jian Lan to keep him in the boundaries of polite dinner conversation, and Hua Cheng was trying to provoke them anyhow.
“You’re Lianlian’s friends, of course,” Shi Qingxuan said, looking from him to Mu Qing. “I thought...well, I thought everyone could get to know each other better, for his sake.”
Mu Qing’s lip curled. “You mean, get along for his sake.”
Shi Qingxuan hunched in her chair, leaning closer to He Xuan, who finished wiping his hands on a napkin and reached over to take her hand. “Isn’t that what friends do?”
Feng Xin gave a heavy sigh and pushed up from his chair. He was awash in conflicting emotions and the shot to the gut that Hua Cheng had delivered quite effectively. It was time to retreat.
“I get it,” he said. “Thanks for the invitation, then, but I’d better see to her.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder.
They weren’t romantic together, not really, but they took care of each other. Feng Xin felt a certain amount of obligation for the difficulties that Jian Lan had been through before they’d been able to reconnect. They would never marry – Jian Lan had made that clear enough – but Feng Xin didn’t care about that. It wasn’t like he was being hounded by parents to carry on the family line. When it came time to pass on his martial arts studios, he could adopt his most promising and entrepreneurial pupil, so he didn’t need a wife.
“Apologies for cutting the night short,” Feng Xin said, remembering his manners before giving a short bow.
“Feng Xin, I’m sor—” Xie Lian began.
“Xie Lian, you have nothing to apologize for,” Shi Wudu said brusquely.
Shi Wudu had said that. Feng Xin turned and walked away before he could say something unwise.
“I have to go,” Mu Qing said behind him, even more brief.
The two of them made a hasty escape while silence reigned at the table behind them.
After a long beat, “Ah...who’s ready for the next course? Ahaha…” Shi Qingxuan’s voice reached them from the dining room.
Mu Qing pulled the door shut behind them so hard that it slammed before it latched shut. Feng Xin folded his arms, scanning the nearby block for Jian Lan. There was no way she could have called a DiDi, and had it arrive, quick enough for her to be gone so fast.
“It’s not true,” Feng Xin said. “It can’t be true.”
“‘The thirty-five businesses of the people most responsible for my beloved’s misfortunes’,” Mu Qing quoted. “It doesn’t have to be factual for it to be Hua Cheng’s perception of truth.”
Feng Xin was getting a headache. “He thinks we’re responsible for Xie Lian’s downfall.”
“We left him,” Mu Qing said. “He’s letting us know he holds us responsible for that.”
“But, Xie Lian fired us!” Feng Xin exclaimed.
“I know that,” Mu Qing said, glaring at him. “You know that. And objectively I’m sure he knows that too, but he thinks we could have done better. Should have done better.”
“Well, who is he, to be so high and mighty, pronouncing judgment on what we’ve done or haven’t done?” Feng Xin half yelled.
“The mighty Crimson Rain Sought Flower,” Jian Lan answered from the darkness. She strolled out from behind one of the large trees on the lawn, a cigarette in her hand.
Feng Xin frowned to see it. She kept saying she’d quit, then she would end up smoking again whenever she was stressed.
“It’s his way, or get out of town, didn’t you know?” Jian Lan tossed her hair. “I didn’t realize Hua Cheng had set his sights on personally destroying you, Feng Xin.”
“Xie Lian won’t let him,” Feng Xin said. He clenched his fists. That didn’t sound nearly as confident as he wanted it to.
“Oh? You’re that sure of it?” Jian Lan challenged.
“There’s only one way to find out.” Mu Qing’s voice was steady and cool.
Feng Xin nodded. “I have to talk to him about it.” He slumped. After already saying that they shouldn’t dwell on it, that the past was behind him and all they could do was move forward, it was a daunting prospect to try and address everything that had happened back then.
“We should talk with him,” Mu Qing corrected.
Feng Xin nodded, squared his shoulders, and met Mu Qing’s troubled eyes.
“And we will,” Feng Xin said. “But let me meet with him first, and see if I can get his measure.”
“Right,” Mu Qing muttered, kicking a nearby pebble and sending it skittering across the lawn. “You always had to be first, after all.”
Feng Xin opened his mouth to fire back an objection, and was hit with weariness instead. “Forget it. Just, whatever. Let me take care of this one thing.”
He couldn’t say he knew Xie Lian best, not anymore, but he had known him the longest. It had to count for something.
🙤 · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ꕥ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · 🙦
It was late afternoon, and the syrupy golden light that came through the high windows of the martial arts studio was acquiring the brassy notes of sunset. The sky was shading toward the dusky plum and gray hues of twilight when Feng Xin jogged over to the bench against the wall where he’d left his bottle of water and grabbed a towel to wipe his face. When his phone began to ring he glanced at it, ready to ignore it because he was half certain it would be Jian Lan telling him again she wouldn’t be home for dinner and to not wait up. Seeing Xie Lian’s contact card smiling at him, Feng Xin snatched it up.
“Ah...hello?” Xie Lian said, hesitant.
“What’s up?” Feng Xin asked. It had been a few days since the dinner party he’d bailed out of early, and he’d put out a few feelers that had been left on read. This was the first time Xie Lian was responding since then.
“Sorry, I know you said stop by the studio anytime, but…” Xie Lian began. He trailed off into sheepish silence.
“It’s all right,” Feng Xin. “I meant what I said. Come by now, I’m still here.”
“Oh, really?” Xie Lian said in surprise. “But the lights are out…”
Feng Xin laughed. “Are you waiting outside? That’s just the office lights in front. Yeah, Jian Lan turns them off when she leaves for the day.”
There was a short pause, then Xie Lian spoke up. “Yeah, I’m out here in front. Is it really okay?”
“Of course it is,” Feng Xin said, frowning. “I wouldn’t have said so if it wasn’t. Hold on, I’ll be right there to unlock the door.” He thumbed off the call and dropped his phone onto the bench.
Winding his towel around his neck, Feng Xin jogged through the empty studio, crossing the short hallway into the front office. Beyond the glass windows, Xie Lian was an indistinct ghostly figure in white. Feng Xin waved at him and the tension in his jaw eased as Xie Lian returned the gesture with a little wave of his own.
“Hey,” Feng Xin said, cracking the door open and craning his head to look past Xie Lian into the street. There was no one visible in either direction, but most importantly: no Hua Cheng.
“Hi,” Xie Lian said. His hand went to the back of his neck, fingers teasing under the length of his long, dark hair.
“Want to work on some forms?” Feng Xin offered. Xie Lian had come to his martial arts studio, so he would offer the straightforward approach first.
Xie Lian nodded.
“Do you have workout clothes?” Feng Xin asked, prepared to offer one of the spare sets they kept in the locker room for drop-ins and beginners.
Xie Lian hefted the oversized bag draped over his shoulder. “Brought my own,” he replied with a guileless smile.
Moments later, they faced off across the mat with one another, bending in respectful but wary bows. Feng Xin dropped into a fighting crouch, hands upraised but loose, waiting for Xie Lian to attack.
Which he did at once, putting Feng Xin on the defensive with a flurry of kicks and jabs. It took Feng Xin by surprise, not because it was unlike Xie Lian but because he’d forgotten how aggressive Xie Lian could be on the mat. It had been a long time and Xie Lian had complained he was out of shape, after all. Before Feng Xin could launch an offensive he found himself pressed to the edge of the floor and almost put a foot out of bounds.
They went back and forth for several rounds and Feng Xin was pleased to see Xie Lian’s cautious, determined face crack and give way to breathless exhilaration the longer they fought. By the time he called for a break, Xie Lian was grinning.
“You said you were out of shape,” Feng Xin accused. He’d procured an extra water bottle while Xie Lian changed into his workout clothes and handed it over.
“That doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten everything!” Xie Lian said with a laugh. He unscrewed the cap and tipped his head back, taking a long drink.
“Hey, so…” Feng Xin started and stopped, folding his arms. Now that he had Xie Lian here, he wasn’t sure how to open the subject. Well, best approach it the way he did everything: dive right in.
Xie Lian blinked at him, water bottle hovering near his mouth. “Hm?”
“The things that Hua Cheng said at dinner the other night,” Feng Xin said. “I know you said you wanted to leave the past behind, but it’s obvious he’s not on board with that.”
Xie Lian sighed and looked away. He spent an unnecessary amount of time locating the cap for the water bottle and screwing it back on. “Feng Xin…”
“All of that aside, though, there are some things that I wanted to say, regardless,” Feng Xin plowed on doggedly. “For my own sake, and yours. Because there are things that I regret, to this day.”
“It’s unnecessary,” Xie Lian said. His tone was quiet, measured.
“I think it’s necessary,” Feng Xin disagreed.
Xie Lian sighed but said nothing this time, waving his hand in a tired sort of ‘go on’ gesture.
“Because I should have known,” Feng Xin continued. “Back then, I was too prideful. And I was too close to the situation, to everything that was happening, to realize that you weren’t pushing us away because you thought we couldn’t help anymore. It was because you didn’t want to drag us down with you. But that’s when we should have stuck to you stronger than glue.”
Xie Lian began to shake his head from side to side, eyes lowered.
“Feng Xin,” he began, sounding troubled. “I really don’t think it helps to go over it, at this point.”
“You keep saying that, but I think that what happened back then is still affecting us now,” Feng Xin said. He drew himself up as he inhaled. “And it’s too easy to fall into those old patterns like it was just a short time ago, instead of all those years…”
“But it was all those years ago,” Xie Lian interrupted. “You’ve grown and changed, and so have I. And even though all that time has passed, I think that you and Mu Qing still think of me as that naive, sheltered boy that needs protecting.”
Feng Xin frowned. He would not bring up Hua Cheng, he absolutely would not bring up Hua Cheng, but hadn’t that man said himself that Xie Lian needed looking out for?
“You tend to think the best of everyone,” Feng Xin said instead. “And in that sense, I feel like it can be easy to lead you astray.”
There. He was proud of himself. He’d connected the topics in a way that would make Mu Qing give a nod of approval. It was time to introduce Hua Cheng into the mix, speaking of people likely to lead Xie Lian astray.
Xie Lian gave him a hard look. “Well, that’s not going to change. I will always see the best in people. And that doesn’t mean I’m gullible, or weak.”
Shit. Feng Xin could feel a chill wind with that tone. He had seen many faces of Xie Lian, from stubborn to clueless to happily playful, but this was a new kind of resolve.
“Maybe not, but you know, back in the day you had a lot of suitors, and you never even seemed to notice how many people were falling all over themselves to please you,” Feng Xin began, trying to tack back to his intended course.
Xie Lian just sighed and pressed a hand to his forehead.
“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: you’re as subtle as a brick to the face,” a new voice rang out in the quiet of the near-empty studio.
Feng Xin startled. “Mu Qing? What are you doing here?”
“The door was open, stupid,” Mu Qing said, walking toward them with a sneer. “I was heading home and saw the lights in back were still on. Just checking to make sure no one was here to rob the place.”
Feng Xin raised his brows.
“Catch me up; did you make it to Jian Lan yet, or are you just questioning his taste generally?” Mu Qing asked. His mouth was fixed in a sarcastic twist.
Xie Lian looked back and forth between the two of them, a frown forming. “Are the two of you…”
“No,” Feng Xin said quickly. However that sentence was going to end, he was going to cut it off at the pass. He did not want Xie Lian associating the two of them in any way, shape, or form.
“...ganging up on me?” Xie Lian finished with a suspicious squint.
“No…?” Feng Xin repeated. It sounded far less convincing.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mu Qing muttered.
“We’re both concerned about you,” Feng Xin amended, and from the immediate downward slant of Xie Lian’s brows, he knew he’d said the wrong thing.
“I’m not a child,” Xie Lian said. “I’m not some sheltered little bird. I’ve been through plenty. I’m responsible for my own choices now.”
“Ah...yes, but—” Feng Xin began, stretching out a hand toward Xie Lian.
Xie Lian took a step back. “I came here because you invited me to spar,” he said, sounding a little bit angry. “I didn’t come to be lectured, or put up with the two of you trying to stage some kind of misguided intervention.”
“Misguided?” Mu Qing objected.
“It’s just, given how things went back then, and the current situation now…” Feng Xin tried again to explain.
“The current situation now is that you have no right to tell Gege what to do,” yet another voice spoke up, firm and confident.
“I really need to remember to lock that door,” Feng Xin mumbled, turning to glare at Hua Cheng standing in the doorway at the far end of the studio.
“San Lang!” Xie Lian exclaimed, sounding relieved. He bent to gather his things up from the bench.
“How does he keep doing that?” Mu Qing muttered. He raised his voice. “You! Have you got a tracker on Xie Lian, or something?
“Gege, sorry to drop in without notice,” Hua Cheng said, giving Mu Qing a searing look before returning his attention to Xie Lian. “Yin Yu told me you’d be at the studio and I made dinner reservations, so I figured I’d stop by and see if you wanted to change before we go out.”
“Thank you, San Lang. That’s very thoughtful.” Xie Lian swept past Feng Xin, giving him a pointed glance before hurrying to Hua Cheng’s side.
Hua Cheng hooked an arm around his waist before leveling his glare on Mu Qing again. “While I do keep tabs on Xie Lian’s whereabouts, it’s because Gege still has some rough elements that have it out for him to this day.” He stood tall as he said it.
Grudgingly, Feng Xin had to admit if only in the confines of his mind that Hua Cheng cut an imposing figure, between his impressive height and the expensively tailored dark red suit.
“Rough elements?” Feng Xin echoed. “What the hell does that mean? Xie Lian?” He glanced at Xie Lian, who grimaced and wasn’t meeting anyone’s eyes.
“Forget it,” Xie Lian said. His face was strained, almost drawn in a grimace. “Just. Just drop it, please.”
It was impossible to press the point when he said it like that.
“I suppose these two could come along for dinner, if they’ve been behaving and you were all having a friendly chat,” Hua Cheng offered.
The words were fine, polite even, but somehow Feng Xin sensed the invitation was jeering rather than given in good faith. Before he could refuse, Xie Lian was the one to speak up.
“No,” Xie Lian said firmly.
Mu Qing shifted from one foot to another, crossing his arms. Feng Xin bit his lip, nodding. He’d pushed too hard.
“I just want my San Lang,” Xie Lian said. He turned his back on the studio, grabbing Hua Cheng’s hand and drawing him along with him.
Then they were gone, and Feng Xin turned a baffled expression on Mu Qing, who looked infuriated.
“That man is a menace,” Mu Qing said flatly.
“He’s very smooth,” Feng Xin said. He wasn’t happy to admit it. He toed at the mat beneath him. “It might be time to admit defeat. Whatever we try, it’s like he’s already three steps ahead.”
Mu Qing looked even more infuriated, like a cat that had been dunked in water and resurfaced ready to fight. “Don’t be stupid! There has to be a way to get through to him. We haven’t tried everything yet.”
“Everything,” Feng Xin repeated. “What do you mean?”
“Maybe,” Mu Qing said slowly, “We’ve been going about this wrong from the beginning.”
“What are you talking about?” Feng Xin demanded.
Mu Qing folded his arms, giving him a grim nod. “Approaching Xie Lian was the wrong strategy,” he said. “We have to tackle the bull by its horns.”
“You’re insane,” Feng Xin said, part wonder, part admiration.
“Maybe.” Mu Qing put his head to one side in a considering pose. “But there’s only one way to find out.”
🙤 · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ꕥ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · 🙦
Feng Xin shot Mu Qing a dubious expression as he raised his hand to knock on the glossy crimson door. Mu Qing had been the one to go to great lengths to track down Hua Cheng’s supposed address, a luxury apartment building on the banks of Huangpu River near the Lujiazu district, and so he was making Feng Xin take that final step for the approach. Feng Xin had been skeptical it was even possible to find the address of someone like Hua Cheng until they were walking down the hallway toward that red door.
Of course Hua Cheng would have a vibrant crimson door.
There was a long moment of silence after Feng Xin rapped on the top right panel. He shot Mu Qing another look. “You’re sure…?” He was uneasy simply standing there, because he was pretty sure Mu Qing had bribed the guard to look the other way when they tagged along with a crowd of noisy women and children past security to get into the building.
“I don’t operate on unreliable information in my line of work,” Mu Qing said stiffly.
After another moment, Feng Xin raised his hand to knock again and paused when he heard faint steps within. How big was the flat, that it took so long for Hua Cheng to get to the front door? Sure, it was an upscale district, but…
His train of thought was interrupted as the door cracked open, giving visibility onto one suspicious eye in a palm’s width section of coldly handsome face, a red cable-knit sweater likely worth a month of Feng Xin’s income, and the glimpse of a simple but elegantly appointed entranceway behind him.
“You’re not the Eleme delivery guy,” Hua Cheng said, and began to shut the door in their faces.
“H-hey!” Feng Xin exclaimed, shoving his foot into the space between door and frame.
It was a tactical error, because Hua Cheng didn’t pause in his attempt to shut the door one whit. Feng Xin yelled as the door slammed against his foot and smallest toe.
“We’re here to speak with you,” Mu Qing interjected.
“Ah,” Hua Cheng said. “Well, I’m not interested in speaking with you even a little bit.”
“For Xie Lian’s sake!” Feng Xin said quickly, as Hua Cheng moved the point of his slipper to kick Feng Xin’s foot out of his door.
That pulled a heavy sigh out of Hua Cheng. He opened the door and squared off with them, arms folded and face deeply unimpressed. “Five minutes,” Hua Cheng said. “Then I’m calling security, because I won’t dirty my hands with you. For Gege’s sake.” There was an evil glint in his eye.
“What?” Mu Qing exclaimed, sounding outraged.
“That’s fine,” Feng Xin said, waving him off. “That’s enough.”
Hua Cheng shrugged, stepping back and cocking his head to one side. “You can talk to me here. I’m not offering you guest slippers or tea.”
“We don’t want your tea,” Mu Qing muttered behind Feng Xin, who decided to ignore him and plow onward.
Hearing him, Hua Cheng’s demeanor grew even more forbidding.
“You’re that kid,” Feng Xin began. “From back then, the kid that Xie Lian caught from the upper balcony during the parade.”
Hua Cheng blinked. It was the first time that Feng Xin had seen him nonplussed. “So?”
“So you admit it,” Feng Xin continued.
“What?” Hua Cheng gave a short laugh. “Like it’s something to hide?”
“After that incident with Qi Rong, didn’t Master Nianqing compensate your family?” Mu Qing asked coolly.
Hua Cheng’s gaze flicked toward him. “He did,” he said shortly. “So?”
“So you stalked him,” Mu Qing exploded. “How else did you find him, after all that time?”
“Five years was not that much time, and Gege is still Gege, then or in school or now,” Hua Cheng said. A muscle in his jaw flexed. “The two of you never did like the fact that he’d always hug me without hesitating.”
“Because you were always dirty!” Feng Xin exclaimed.
Hua Cheng’s lip curled.
“And you stole things!” Mu Qing added. “I’m sure you didn’t care because you couldn’t be held responsible, but I could have been fired.”
“Is that it?” Hua Cheng asked, sounding bored.
“No!” Feng Xin exclaimed. “We don’t appreciate you using Xie Lian just to—”
The rest of the sentence was jarred from between his teeth and rattled from his brain as Hua Cheng lunged, taking Feng Xin by the collar of his shirt and slamming him against the door frame so hard, something cracked. Feng Xin had time to hope it wasn’t something in his own body before his mind shut down at the terrifyingly enraged look on Hua Cheng’s face only centimeters from his own.
“If you ever so much as whisper the ghost of a thought that I’d ever ‘use’ Xie Lian after what you and your little clown shoes detective boyfriend did, riding on his coattails then throwing him to the wolves, I won’t stop at issuing a challenge and backing off,” Hua Cheng hissed, looming in his face so close Feng Xin could feel the heat of his breath.
“Boyfriend?” Mu Qing bristled.
Feng Xin tried to say, ‘that’s what you have a problem with?’ but it came out as a garbled wheeze around Hua Cheng’s tight grip.
“I will end you if you so much as make him frown,” Hua Cheng continued. “Are we clear?”
“But—” Feng Xin tried. The ‘ding’ of the elevator sounded in the distance and he really, really hoped they weren’t about to get thrown out.
Hua Cheng’s hand tightened, crushing him back against the door frame. “I said, are we clear?”
Feng Xin’s eyes slid over to Mu Qing, trying to communicate with his eyes that they could not afford to get hauled up to the front desk and have the police called.
“You…” Mu Qing began, sounding stunned. “You really...”
“What’s going on here?” Xie Lian’s voice rang out.
Instantly the hand at Feng Xin’s throat loosened, leaving him to reel back against the door frame, coughing harshly.
Mu Qing stepped to the side, scowling.
Xie Lian strode down the hall toward them, gaze traveling between Feng Xin and Mu Qing and back again. His brows lowered. “What are you two doing here?”
Feng Xin dropped his head, massaging at his throat. “We…” His voice was a creaky rasp. What could they say that wouldn’t cause Xie Lian to ban them from his life forever?
“I invited them over for dinner,” Hua Cheng said smoothly, taking a step back and swinging the front door wide open. “In order to share the good news.”
“What good news?” Mu Qing asked.
Feng Xin nodded, continuing to rub at his throat. He shot a curious look at Hua Cheng. Why would the man cover for them?
“Come inside and find out,” Hua Cheng invited, baring his teeth in a ferocious grin.
Feng Xin found himself looking at Mu Qing again, who tipped his head to one side and shrugged as though to say, ‘why not?’
Why not indeed.
Xie Lian still bore a suspicious squint, but it lightened as Hua Cheng held his hand out for him.
Feng Xin stepped back to let Xie Lian pass as he breezed through the front doorway and into Hua Cheng’s half embrace.
“I’m home,” Xie Lian murmured, the words barely audible to Feng Xin even as close as he stood.
“Welcome home,” Hua Cheng said. His eye was scorching on Feng Xin as though daring him to say something. He transferred his scrutiny to Mu Qing, who shook his head and scoffed.
They filed into the entryway after Xie Lian. Somehow, Feng Xin was unsurprised to see a pair of what looked like white stoat slippers waiting for Xie Lian beside the outdoor shoe cubby.
Hua Cheng tossed a couple of beat-up looking black house slippers at Feng Xin and Mu Qing. They looked like they’d been gnawed on by a wild animal and survived a trash fire. Against his better judgment, Feng Xin put on the pair that had landed closest to him and decided not to say anything about their shabby condition.
Despite Hua Cheng’s earlier threats, they were settled on a dark, plush couch across from Hua Cheng and Xie Lian on a lighter green couch in short order and tea was served. It was a rich, pungent brew that had Feng Xin sipping at it then regarding it in surprise.
“Hope you’re fine with pu erh,” Hua Cheng said, baring his teeth. “I’m not breaking out the white needle for the likes of you.”
“San Lang,” Xie Lian admonished, putting a hand to Hua Cheng’s knee. “Didn’t you invite them over to share the good news?”
“All right, I’ll bite.” Mu Qing was sitting stiffly upright on his end of the couch and hadn’t touched his tea. “What good news?”
“We’re getting married!” Xie Lian exclaimed with a happy smile. He fished a silver chain out of his fluffy white sweater, displaying a large but surprisingly tasteful diamond set in white platinum.
“What,” Feng Xin said blankly.
“No,” Mu Qing said in a flat tone.
Xie Lian’s smile dimmed.
Hua Cheng uncoiled an arm from around Xie Lian to point at Mu Qing. “Keep a civil tongue in your head or I’ll boot you out of here. Express route from the balcony.”
“San Lang!” Xie Lian exclaimed.
“I’m tired of them disrespecting you, Gege,” Hua Cheng said. “I understand you wanted to make amends – which you never owed them – and reconnect old bonds of friendship, which I’m not convinced they shared. But I draw the line at them speaking this way to you in our home.”
Mu Qing inhaled a sharp breath, but said nothing.
“As usual, you devolve to threats!” Feng Xin exclaimed. “Xie Lian, did you know… did he tell you, I mean, did you figure out that Hua Cheng is actually...he’s that…” His voice died in his throat because Xie Lian was sending a disappointed look his way.
“He’s that little stalker kid,” Mu Qing said bluntly.
“Stalker…?” Xie Lian repeated, looking around with a puzzled frown.
“The kid who always followed you around after that incident at Shangyuan,” Feng Xin added. Surely Xie Lian’s memory couldn’t be that bad.
“They mean I was Hong’er,” Hua Cheng supplied, right as Xie Lian breathed an ‘ohhhh’ of recognition.
“Well, of course he is,” Xie Lian said, blinking at Feng Xin and Mu Qing. “Did the two of you not know?”
Feng Xin clenched his fist. “So you knew that he’s been… this whole time…” He stuttered to a halt, looking back and forth between Hua Cheng, who looked faintly smug, and Xie Lian, who was staring at him like he’d grown a second head.
“Yes?” Xie Lian said. He was still toying with the ring in his hands, one thumb rubbing along the band. “Did you think I didn’t know?”
Feng Xin sighed, looking over at Mu Qing, who remained sitting bolt upright like he’d get up and make a beeline for the exit at any second.
“And his criminal involvement doesn’t bother you,” Mu Qing asked Xie Lian directly.
Hua Cheng scoffed and Xie Lian made an indignant noise. “Criminal involvement? What are you talking about?”
“You understand, just because my employees call me ‘boss,’ it doesn’t mean I’m a crime boss, right?” Hua Cheng said. He put his arm around Xie Lian again and tipped his head back, sneering at them.
“San Lang rescued me from Qi Rong’s gang, actually,” Xie Lian said matter of factly. “I got suspicious when the women he was employing kept disappearing, so I disguised myself and when I tried to find out more, I found myself in the middle of Qi Rong’s human trafficking ring.”
“Every single business that I acquire gets its illegitimate operations shut down,” Hua Cheng said. “Surely you noticed that if you’ve been paying such close attention.”
“I was trying to uncover that ring and turn them over to the authorities!” Mu Qing exclaimed. His normally fair skin looked even paler than usual.
Feng Xin, for his part, felt a bit ashamed. He had known that Hua Cheng’s nightclubs divested of any hint of impropriety. He’d known, because Jian Lan had told him herself. She’d held a grudge against Hua Cheng for the longest time for shutting down the place where she’d done high-priced hostess work until the next place she’d tried to work at had gotten busted by the police. Working reception at Feng Xin’s studio didn’t pay much, but it was steady and honest and she’d seized it like a lifeline.
“Qi Rong wasn’t running it himself, though,” Mu Qing continued. “He’d never get his hands dirty. Who was behind it?”
“Xuan Ji,” Hua Cheng replied. He waved a dismissive hand. “She’s been dealt with.”
“But I never heard…” Mu Qing started slowly. His eyes narrowed. “By the local authorities?”
“Don’t be naive,” Hua Cheng said with another scoff.
“This, this is exactly what I’m talking about!” Mu Qing exclaimed, pointing at him. “You can’t be trusted! You’re a total wild card—”
“Mu Qing!” Xie Lian snapped, making both Feng Xin and Mu Qing sit up straight like a pair of guilty schoolboys. “Surely you’re old enough to realize by this point, there are matters that can only be dealt with in the world where they belong?”
“It’s the fact that he’s in that world that makes us worried for you!” Feng Xin exploded. He curled his fists on his thighs, defiant, ready to be summarily ejected from the place if this was what it took to make Xie Lian see reason.
There was a beat of silence, then Xie Lian said in a gentle tone, “So you are worried about me.”
Feng Xin’s eyes widened. Mu Qing looked away, arms folded and face going red.
“Of course you are,” Xie Lian continued, as though to himself. “If you weren’t, then you wouldn’t be here.”
Feng Xin looked at the table, the untouched cups of tea, the cream-colored carpet: anywhere but Xie Lian’s knowing brown eyes. Next to him at the end of the couch, Mu Qing was going through a similarly avoidant process.
“I had to become strong enough to protect my most important person,” Hua Cheng said in a matter of fact tone. “Unfortunately, the way to do that quickly can’t be considered the most upright path, but I’m making up for it now.”
“You…” Feng Xin could hardly believe his ears. “You really believe that?”
Hua Cheng’s dark eye bored into his, daring him to look away. “Whether you believe me or not, it’s the truth.”
Mu Qing made a short, annoyed tsk. “Well, it’s clear that our opinion on Hua Cheng matters not at all.”
“Oh,” Xie Lian said, as Hua Cheng said right away, “Not even a little bit.”
Xie Lian’s laugh was bright and so happy, it made Feng Xin straighten a little, eyeing him. He couldn’t help but smile a little, Xie Lian looked so carefree.
“Is that all?” Xie Lian said. He was still smiling. He tucked the necklace back into his fluffy sweater. “That’s right. I’m not asking for your blessing. I’m not asking for your approval, either. Your tolerance would be fine.”
“But he—” Feng Xin said, gesturing at Hua Cheng.
“Even if we promise to be tolerant, he won’t forgive us,” Mu Qing filled in the rest, also gesturing at Hua Cheng.
“No, I won’t forgive you,” Hua Cheng said in an unyielding tone, and Xie Lian put a hand on his thigh.
“But he promised me he will tolerate you, for my sake,” Xie Lian added, cutting Hua Cheng a sideways look that was probably intended to be stern but only looked a bit flustered.
“Really?” Feng Xin asked, dubious.
Mu Qing said nothing, only folded his arms and looked skeptical.
Hua Cheng sighed and raised three fingers to his brow in a salute. “I swear by Gege, I will no longer try to destroy you, as long as he’s willing to put up with your dumb antics.”
“Oh,” Feng Xin said. The wind was taken out of his sails. What was he supposed to be mad about now?
“Huh,” Mu Qing grunted, still looking unconvinced.
Hua Cheng put his head to one side and gave them a thin, unfriendly smile. “I never promised to be nice.”
“Well, I suppose that’s fair,” Feng Xin conceded. He dared to meet Xie Lian’s eyes again. His old friend was smiling again, looking so hopeful that Feng Xin couldn’t bear to let him down. “As long as Xie Lian doesn’t expect us to all get along.”
“This is ridiculous,” Mu Qing muttered, bowing his head even as he slumped back onto the couch, no longer sitting in a stiff posture.
Feng Xin fidgeted. If Mu Qing blew up at this point, he couldn’t stand behind him anymore. In the end, Xie Lian was right: he was an adult, he made his own decisions, and he’d gone into the situation with Hua Cheng knowing everything from the start. In fact, the man might never have been what he and Mu Qing had suspected all along.
“Mu Qing?” Xie Lian asked, brows pinching in a worried look.
“How can we possibly pull together an engagement party for you on such short notice?” Mu Qing asked, raising his head to glower at the three of them.
This time when Xie Lian laughed, he clapped his hands in delight. “Didn’t you know? That’s what Qingxuan is for. They’re a natural at party planning.” He gave them both a pleased, relaxed smile.
Feng Xin sneaked a look at Mu Qing to assess his resolve, only to find Mu Qing looking steadily back at him. Feng Xin tipped his head in a brief, ‘so we’re going along with this?’ and received the tiniest of possible sighs and nod in response.
If they couldn’t change Xie Lian’s mind, then at least they could fall back on their old job of protecting him as best they could once he’d locked in with his trademark stubbornness.
Hua Cheng was studying the two of them like a pair of bugs in amber when Feng Xin looked his way again. He gave Feng Xin a smile, this time enigmatic, and a nod that could only be called ‘royal.’
“Now that we have that understanding, let me offer you a boon,” Hua Cheng said.
“What kind of boon?” Mu Qing asked.
Feng Xin could hardly blame him for the wary tone.
“You’re in for a rare treat,” Hua Cheng replied, voice brighter than Feng Xin had ever heard him. “Gege is cooking tonight!”
Feng Xin couldn’t suppress the shudder that crawled down his spine. He exchanged a brief, horrified look with Mu Qing, whose face told him the same realization that had rushed to Feng Xin’s stomach like a shot of sour milk. Xie Lian’s cooking on his night of the rotation when they’d roomed together in school had never been anything short of disastrous.
They had to resign themselves to paying this penance for reconcilation. Rejecting Xie Lian’s dinner would be to reject the man himself.
“Oh, great,” Feng Xin said weakly. “What...what’s for dinner tonight, then?”
“Hmm… it’s a new dish!” Xie Lian said, glowing with pride. “I’m calling it, Love Dumpling Revives even the Phoenix from Unhappiness in the Ashes.”
Feng Xin had a bad feeling about what in the dish might represent the ashes. He put his hand down on the couch to brace himself, found himself groping Mu Qing’s bony fingers, and snatched his hand away while suppressing an unmanly yelp. He had to hold it together, he was about to eat Xie Lian’s food for the first time in many long years of delicious and healthy meals.
“Gege is so creative,” Hua Cheng cooed, pulling Xie Lian in close.
Xie Lian giggled – actually giggled – and leaned in close to Hua Cheng, seeming to forget Feng Xin and Mu Qing were there as he lifted his chin up for a kiss.
At least, Feng Xin sure hoped Xie Lian had forgotten they were there.
“Well!” Mu Qing shot to his feet. “I’ll go wash my hands.”
“Right! Great idea!” Feng Xin got up too, looking around for the kitchen. They might have signed up to stay beside Xie Lian again and protect him as best they could, but that didn’t mean they would stay right next to him while Hua Cheng made them eat dog food.
“Hmm?” Xie Lian turned inquisitive eyes on them.
“We have to wash our hands to help prep, of course,” Mu Qing said.
“Just like old times,” Feng Xin added.
Xie Lian’s smile was all the reward anyone needed. Feng Xin was gonna make the most of this: he had his friend back, he had Mu Qing to join forces with against the menace that was Hua Cheng, and he only had to tolerate that one; he didn’t have to play nice.
They weren’t all fighting amongst themselves for scraps after all.