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Jiang Cheng hates Christmas. He always has. It never meant anything good.
Christmas was always about arguments, awkward family dinners, meeting the in-laws, posing for photos in outfits he would never be caught dead wearing otherwise. The only good parts about Christmas were always baking with his sister and brother.
But that was when Jiang Cheng’s parents were still around. It’s been a while since Jiang Cheng actually celebrated.
After all, Yanli had her own husband and son to celebrate with now. Jin Zixuan had enough extended family and associates to give that welcoming family atmosphere Yanli deserved.
And Wei Wuxian... Jiang Cheng should forward Lan Wangji a preemptive apology for all the holiday drinks he’ll no doubt have. Then again, knowing Lan Wangji with his husband’s influence, it’ll be a mess because of them both. Jiang Cheng just hopes Sizhui doesn’t see them being idiots.
Jiang Cheng sits back in his office chair. He still has until 5pm before he can really leave the company. And while he does not enjoy the holidays, he knows how much everyone would appreciate leaving on time for the winter break.
Jiang Cheng idly checks his phone. He has a few notifications. Either spam or work related, as usual.
Except for one text.
[From Wei Wuxian: cheng where is your spare key?]
Jiang Cheng quickly sits up.
Jiang Cheng
Why would you need that?
Wei Wuxian
well the last time I surprised you at home you tried to beat me with a vintage belt
seriously why do you still have that thing?
Jiang Cheng
Wei Wuxian.
If you are at my house, I will not hesitate.
Wei Wuxian
sorry caht hear you I’m breaking up !!
Jiang Cheng
WEI WUXIAN
His migraine inducing brother doesn’t answer after that. And Jiang Cheng can see he read the message (he had known those mini profile images meant something in Messenger!).
Wei Wuxian is most likely at his house. His house. Unattended. The last time Wei Wuxian dropped by for a visit...
Jiang Cheng grabs all of his things and rushes out of his office.
“Mr. Jiang?” His Secretary calls out as he pushes his office door roughly.
“Tell everyone to go home early for the holiday.”
“W-why, Mr. Jiang! How generous of you to—”
“Merry Christmas, see you in January,” Jiang Cheng says quickly, finding the closest elevator.
His head was already beginning to hurt. And his Advil was trapped in the glovebox of his car. He doesn’t know why his blood pressure is working overtime. Wei Wuxian wasn’t the most chaotic person Jiang Cheng had the unfortunate requirement of associating with. But he was unpredictable.
A-Cheng, the inner-Yanli chides in his head, A-Xian shows his love in his own way. Don’t push that away like when we were kids.
Jiang Cheng wonders if Wei Wuxian is actually trying to be considerate in his own way. His shoulders relax.
Then Jiang Cheng remembers the firecracker incident.
He cannot, physically, walk faster to his car, fists clenched and a mental draft of his next therapist meeting conversation already being made. Such is the way Jiang Cheng usually deals with family.
_
His house isn’t burned down. That’s a much better state than Jiang Cheng was hoping for, pulling into his driveway.
It’s an older house, where he’d spent his entire childhood, with a wide garden surrounding the outside, a large lotus pond being the centerpiece of it all. Jiang Cheng liked to maintain it in the same ways his sister taught him.
Jiang Cheng does a checklist of things. His flowers are not trampled, his mailbox is still perfectly straight, no windows are ajar or broken...
Then Jiang Cheng notices the single, banged up scooter parked in front of his fence. A small old model Wei Wuxian had “found” years ago. Even when he has a proper car, and his husband has more than enough expenses to fix the damn scooter, Wei Wuxian liked Lil’ Apple just the way she was.
If Jiang Cheng was a petty man... a pettier man, he’d knock it over.
But he’s not a cranky teenager. Jiang Cheng is an aging man who cannot handle his brother’s excitement or schemes as well as he used to (had he ever really handled them well? No).
“We can be civil,” he mutters to himself. “Maybe Hanguang-jun is visiting family and Wuxian is lonely...”
He hopes that’s true. His brother is a clingy man. Anytime away from those closest to him is a hard time for him. Which is understandable, but... Jiang Cheng isn’t sure about drinking himself into a coma to appease his brother’s loneliness.
Jiang Cheng shakes his head. “Or maybe he wants gift ideas for Yanli-jiejie. A bit late if that’s what this is, but more acceptable.”
Then he thought the worst possibility. It was a surprise for him.
He feels unease creep up his spine as he reaches his front door. Jiang Cheng hates surprises. And Wei Wuxian’s definitions of it. The last time his brother tried surprising him with something, he’d had to have a long explanation prepared for their guidance counselor.
Grip on the doorknob turning his knuckles white, Jiang Cheng enters his home.
... And is immediately greeted with a loud POP! and confetti spraying into his face.
Jiang Cheng makes an undignified noise, stumbling backwards and falling onto his ass. The thin layer of snow absolutely breaks no impact.
A gasp follows the assault. “A-Cheng!”
Jiang Cheng looks up in confusion and betrayal. There stand both of his siblings, Wei Wuxian wearing a stupid smile, and Jiang Yanli covering her mouth in surprise.
“MERRY CHRISTMAS, CHENG!” Wei Wuxian howls like a madman.
His face turns red from a mix of rage and embarrassment. “It’s Christmas Eve, you—!” Jiang Cheng can’t even find an insult.
Yanli goes over to his side, kneeling into the snow. Her clothes are much nicer than his own and much nicer than whatever Wei Wuxian throws on everyday.
“Ah, jiejie, your skirt—”
“Are you hurt, A-Cheng? I told A-Xian not to startle you,” Yanli says with a slightly stern look thrown at their brother. Wei Wuxian does not have the humility to look ashamed.
“I just wanted to welcome our sweet baby brother home,” Wei Wuxian states.
Jiang Cheng scoffs at him. “Or you wanted my heart to stop?”
Wei Wuxian walks closer, helping Yanli in pulling Jiang Cheng to his feet. The snow crunches beneath their feet.
“I missed your funny expressions.”
“Wei Wuxian—”
“Boys,” Yanli chides, still relaxed, “it’s Christmas. You shouldn’t fight.”
“Technically it’s only Christmas Eve,” Jiang Cheng weakly argues. “And what are you both doing here? Don’t you have your own families now?”
Wei Wuxian throws an arm around Jiang Cheng’s nape. “But we’re family all the time too!”
Jiang Cheng frowns. Yanli chuckles beside them.
“A-Xian had the idea of surprising you.”
“I hate surprises.”
“Not this one!” Wei Wuxian says, still yelling in Jiang Cheng’s ear. “After all, me and Yanli-jiejie aren’t the only ones here!”
They’re not? But there’s no other vehicles, Jiang Cheng wonders. He hopes to whatever god will listen that Wei Wuxian had not dragged their sister around on that dangerous scooter of his.
The trio of siblings go inside, the broad entryway a familiar sight to them all. The lotus detailing and family paintings are all still in place. Jiang Cheng tirelessly maintains every detail of his — their — childhood home. He hates seeing anything show wear or age. He cares less if it shows on himself.
In the open space main room, the old couches are occupied by several familiar faces. Jiang Cheng expects his nephews, Jin Ling and Lan Sizhui, but the others are much more surprising. Nie Huaisang is laughing at some story he must be telling Wen Qing, who listens politely. Wen Ning is chatting with the younger boys. Sizhui seems especially into the conversation, Jin Ling interjecting at points, and Wen Ning looks between them both equally.
It’s... so loud. Their voices echo off the rustic walls too well.
“Look what we found in the snow!” Wei Wuxian’s voice is the loudest of them all. It easily draws attention to the trio.
“Uncle Cheng!” Sizhui’s eyes brighten. Jin Ling sits up straighter beside him. The adults greet him as well.
Jiang Cheng bows politely to the group. “It’s very... pleasant to see everyone.”
Yanli smiles next to him. Wei Wuxian wastes no time in dragging Jiang Cheng straight to the couch with the kids. Sizhui hops to his feet to hug Jiang Cheng.
Oh, he’s gotten so big, Jiang Cheng notes. “Hello, Sizhui. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, Uncle!”
Jin Ling is waiting expectantly. Jiang Cheng is much closer to Jin Ling, if years of babysitting the child when his sister and her husband would be off overseas. Yanli often called him and Jin Ling ‘birds of a feather.’ Jin Ling always copied his uncle, and wears a serious expression most of the time.
“To you too, Jin Ling. Merry Christmas,” Jiang Cheng says to his other nephew.
Jin Ling nods in acknowledgement. “Merry Christmas, Uncle.”
“Oh god, they really are both too stiff,” Wei Wuxian says. Yanli elbows him gently.
Jiang Cheng sits beside Jin Ling, relaxing into the couch. Jin Ling thinks he’s subtle leaning in a bit closer. Yanli sits on his other side, smile never leaving his face.
“It’s nice to see you again, Jiang Cheng,” Wen Qing’s voice is steady as ever. “No recent pains or concerns?”
“Besides usual stress, no,” he replies, “nothing of much note. Nie Huaisang, Wen Ning, always pleasant to see you.”
Wen Ning smiles at the acknowledgement. Nie Huaisang is the most relaxed against his couch, throwing up an arm to greet him. Jiang Cheng will take it.
“Now that Jiang Cheng is here!” Wei Wuxian claps his hands together. “It’s time for an extra special appearance for this special close-as-family-family gathering.”
Both of his nephews are rapt with attention. Jiang Cheng holds back a chuckle. They are so cute. Even if Jiang Cheng won’t be caught saying that out loud.
Wei Wuxian crosses his arms over each other, idly rubbing over his nose. “I may or may not have given Sizhui a little spoiler... but it’s okay now! Everything is perfect as is.”
“Baba is bad at secrets,” Sizhui giggles quietly.
“Hey! I had plenty of secrets when I was younger! I was so cool and mysterious, right guys?” Wei Wuxian looks at his friends.
“Sorry, I can’t remember anything like that,” Nie Huaisang shrugs. His smile is not well hidden behind his hand fan.
Wen Qing stares stoically. “I remember you being a troublemaker, but never cool and mysterious.”
Wei Wuxian stomps his foot. “You guys are the worst! Wen Ning! Say how cool I am, you’re my only friend—”
“A-Xian,” Yanli interrupts. Wen Ning looks relieved after being put on the spot like that. “The surprise.”
“Oh! Oh yeah, the surprise. We have one more guest!”
How wonderful. More company. Not that Jiang Cheng is really against the current coming, but given the options of who it could be... Jiang Cheng isn’t sure if he can handle two surprises.
“We’ll have to call him to join us,” Wei Wuxian turns from his dramatic to his theatre-serious voice.
“Call who?” Jin Ling speaks up.
“The one and only... Santa Claus!”
“Santa..?” Jiang Cheng says.
“Uncle,” Jin Ling looks up with his most serious expression. It doesn’t hide the wonder in his eyes. “Could Santa really get here, of all places, on Christmas Eve? How would he even know?”
Jiang Cheng wants a photo of Jin Ling’s expression at this moment. He looks his age. Like an excited little kid, needing confirmation. He can’t help but wonder if he had ever such an expression.
(Jiang Cheng’s memories of Christmas were blurry. He doesn’t even remember if he believed in Santa at any point in his life.)
“... Wei Wuxian has a lot of connections,” he answers. Jiang Cheng doesn’t miss the slight hitch of Jin Ling’s breath. His nephew presses even closer, eyes focusing on Wei Wuxian again.
Yanli holds his hand. Jiang Cheng gives it a gentle squeeze. I won’t break his wonder, Jiang Cheng silently promises.
Wei Wuxian looks proud where he stands, his credibility with 8 year olds restored. “Now, how do we go about calling Santa Claus?”
The boys look between each other.
“Does... Santa have a cell phone?” Sizhui guesses to his father.
Jiang Cheng swears he hears a single “hah” slip out of Wen Qing.
Wei Wuxian rubs his nose again. “Well, I suppose he could, but the coverage plan he would need would be so expensive... The North Pole isn’t very cell-friendly.”
“So how do we call Santa?” Jin Ling presses.
“We’ll have to shout! With all of our hearts and Christmas spirits.”
“Wei Wuxian...” Jiang Cheng warns. Yanli squeezes his hand again.
“I’m sure Santa would hear us at a normal volume,” Yanli suggests instead. She’s always been the only thing that stopped Jiang Cheng from more mental breakdowns as a child.
“Mother, it’s Santa,” Jin Ling says, “He’s like, a thousand years old. His hearing can’t be that good.”
“But he can tell everyone was nice and naughty all year long, right, A-Ling?”
Jin Ling looks at his lap in thought. Jiang Cheng rubs over his back.
“What do you think, Sizhui?”
“I’m sure Santa needs us to really feel it more than hear it,” Sizhui reasons with Jin Ling. The younger between them nods.
“Uncle Wuxian, yelling would be pointless,” Jin Ling crosses his arms. “But everyone has to really believe in him.”
“Ah, my cute little nephew is so smart! And my Sizhui!” Wei Wuxian comes forward to hug both of the kids.
“Baba, please,” Sizhui whines.
Jin Ling squirms in his hold. Jiang Cheng manages to free both of his nephews from Wei Wuxian’s onslaught of doting.
“But you’re right! We all really have to believe in Santa Claus to get him to show up,” Wei Wuxian bounces back. “So...”
Wei Wuxian, and everyone in the room, looks straight at Jiang Cheng.
“Do you believe in Santa Claus, you old grape?”
Jiang Cheng, a grown man who’s been acting as a cold and serious CEO of his family’s company since he was barely 20, has only one reply. And it’s not the one he wants to give.
“... Of course I believe in Santa Claus.” He has to force himself to say it with no distain. The chorus of gasps and barely concealed laughter only embarrasses him further.
Wei Wuxian flicks his nose. “Perfect! Everyone should be perfectly set then.”
“You won’t interrogate anyone else?!”
“Nah. I know Wen Ning still has all that childlike wonder, and Nie Huaisang is a reasonable man.”
“He’s right, you know,” Nie Huaisang barely says between giggles.
“What about Wen Qing?”
They both glance at Wen Qing. She’s idly drinking a cup of tea, which Jiang Cheng can smell from here. One of her strong seasonal blends.
She looks at them both with her usual serious face. “Santa Claus used to bring me medical instruments when I was a little girl. He was very practical.”
“... she’s fine,” Wei Wuxian catches his look.
“Yeah, she’s fine.”
“Mother, Santa wouldn’t bring me medical stuff, right..?” Jin Ling asks Yanli nervously. She smiles and pets her son’s head, reassuring him that no, Wen Qing was just a special case.
“So everyone, obviously and logically, believes in Santa Claus,” Wei Wuxain concludes with a clap of his hands. “Which means we can get down to summoning the old guy!” With a dramatic twirl, Wei Wuxian pulls out an old wooden flute. He does a few more overdramatic movements, which the kids absolutely eat up, before straightening himself to hold the flute proper.
“Alright, everyone clasp your hands and believe really hard,” he instructs.
Jiang Cheng obliges. So does every other resident of the couch.
Wei Wuxian starts playing a song on his little flute. He sounds like a weird mix of Christmas tunes and a melody Jiang Cheng remembers from Wei Wuxian’s wedding. It was a very personal and elaborate piece, and Wei Wuxian wasn’t a bad player at all.
The soft music stops when a thud comes from the ceiling. Jin Ling is immediately on the alert, right with Jiang Cheng.
“An intruder?” Jin Ling ponders. Jiang Cheng hopes he’s not the reason for the 8 year old’s vocabulary.
“Jin Ling, it could be Santa!” Sizhui bounces in excitement.
“I wonder how Santa could’ve gotten on the second floor—” Nie Huaisang says but Wen Qing elbows him immediately. He squeaks instead, dropping his fan.
The next few moments of Jiang Cheng’s life feel like an elaborate fever dream. Descending from the spiral staircase is a figure in an all red-and-cotton-lined get up. A large sack is over his shoulders, carried too easily. He jingles with every step. Bells are attached to his shoes and large Santa hat. Beneath that hair, a messy white wig and beard cover most of his face, save for his eyes.
As he reaches the bottom of the stairs, Nie Huaisang makes a noise like a dying animal.
“Ho,” Lan Wangji greets, stoicism not hidden behind the wig, beard, and oversized hat. It’s the most ridiculous contrast to Jiang Cheng’s image of Hanguang-jun he could’ve imagined.
Beside him, Yanli is already taking pictures.
“Santa Claus?!” Sizhui, Jin Ling, and Wei Wuxian all exclaim.
“It is I, Santa.” Lan Wangji isn’t even doing a voice. Jiang Cheng feels something close to amusement, but it slides further towards uncanny valley. “I have come to visit the good boys and girls in Yunmeng.”
“I knew you would show up, Santa! You’re so reliable like that.” Wei Wuxian rushes his disguised husband. Lan Wangji doesn’t physically falter, but Jiang Cheng sees the shift in his expression. Years of exposure has shown Jiang Cheng just how affected Lan Wangji can be by his husband.
His facade remains strong. “Yes. I could not refuse a request from one of the longest leaders of the Naughty List.”
Wei Wuxian hits his chest. “Stay in script!” He not so subtly hisses.
“Apologies,” Lan Wangji walks around Wei Wuxian, situating the large bag to stand up. “I bring gifts for the good children. And Wei Ying.”
“Hey!”
It’s easy to laugh at their antics. Yanli, Nie Huaisang, and Wen Ning are certainly laughing. Jiang Cheng sees Wen Qing smiling along as well. It’s the happiest he’s seen her in years.
Lan Wangji is now sitting on one of Jiang Cheng’s dining table chair. Wei Wuxian stands beside him, taking a few selfies with his dressed up husband.
“The first good boy of the day is Lan Sizhui.”
“Me?” Sizhui is surprised.
“Yes,” Lan Wangji nods and reaches into his bag. “I have a gift just for you.”
Jiang Cheng urges his nephew up to go see ‘Santa’. Sizhui waddles a bit, clearly shy at the attention.
Lan Wangji holds out a small wrapped box for him. The patterning on the wrapping is vaguely rabbit-shaped.
“Am I allowed to open it?” Sizhui looks up at Lan Wangji. His fathers both nod at him. Wei Wuxian, much like Yanli, has his camera out.
Sizhui tears the wrapping as gentle as he can. Then he gasps loudly.
“Is this really for me?” Sizhui questions through his excitement. Lan Wangji nods.
Sizhui rushes up to hug his thinly veiled father. Wei Wuxian joins in, and the family looks so happy between themselves.
Jin Ling tugs on his sleeve. “Uncle, what did Sizhui get? I couldn’t see it.”
“You’ll have to ask him,” Jiang Cheng answers. Wei Wuxian is already tucking Sizhui’s gift away, no doubt to take it home. Jiang Cheng wonders himself what made his nephew so happy. Sizhui comes back to the couch, sitting with Yanli this time.
“Next is Jin Ling.”
Jin Ling puffs out his chest a bit as he walks over to Lan Wangji. He hands Jin Ling a much longer box, which Jin Ling struggles to balance. Jiang Cheng almost gets up to help his nephew but thinks he’d be embarrassed. Yanli seems to have a similar conflict.
Jin Ling sets the box down on the ground and shreds the paper. Jiang Cheng doesn’t even focus on the mess of scraps. All he sees is how Jin Ling’s expression lights up.
“A bow!” He shouts. “How did you know?!”
Lan Wangji presses a finger to his own lips.
“A-Ling kept saying how much he wanted to learn archery,” Yanli whispers to Jiang Cheng.
“Isn’t that a bit dangerous?”
Yanli giggles fondly. “A-Cheng, we were all dangerous at a young age. A-Ling will be watched over and instructed properly. We already have a teacher for him.”
Jiang Cheng does feel reassured by that. Jiang Cheng trusts a proper teacher, not that peacock of a father of his, even less so someone like Wei Wuxian.
“... There’s actually one more gift I have to deliver before I go back to the North Pole,” Lan Wangji speaks up.
“Another one?” Jin Ling looks at him. “For me and Sizhui?”
Lan Wangji shakes his head, adjusting his posture. “It’s for someone else.”
Wei Wuxian wastes no time in digging another box out of the bag, effectively deflating its shape. Lan Wangji accepts the box, standing to his full height. Jin Ling politely moves his bow’s box away so Lan Wangji doesn’t trip.
Then the Hanguang-jun walks up to Jiang Cheng.
“Huh?”
“This is something I owe you.” Lan Wangji has an unreadable expression. Jiang Cheng stares at the wrapped box in confusion. At least can confirms the wrapping does have rabbits on it.
“Take it, A-Cheng,” Yanli nudges his arm.
“Open it up, Uncle!” Sizhui moves closer to him. Jin Ling joins Sizhui back on the couch.
“Come on, Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian says, camera held up.
“I’m curious what it could be for you.” Wen Qing.
“I’ll die of curiosity!” Nie Huaisang.
“It could be something really amazing.” Wen Ning.
Lan Wangji is silent. But he nudges the box forward again.
Jiang Cheng slowly accepts the box. It’s neatly wrapped, a small bow and notecard stuck to it.
[To: Jiang Cheng. From: Santa Claus and Company.]
He follows the folds of the wrapping, untucking the box from within. And Jiang Cheng opened the lid to find...
_
“Mother,” Jiang Cheng begins. “Why don’t we exchange presents?”
The snow is beginning to cover the garden grounds. Through the window, he can see his father and Wei Wuxian, playing together. Tossing snowballs. Laughing.
Jiang Cheng can’t hear the laughter through the glass.
“What is the practical purpose?” His mother says cooly, not looking up from the metal she is polishing. She holds it up to her eye, looking down its length. Jiang Cheng isn’t quite sure what’s she looking for. “You can receive different things through the year.”
“The other families do it, though.”
“We are not other families. We are the Jiang Sect.”
Jiang Cheng glances outside again. His father, Jiang Fengmian, is now making snow angels with Wei Wuxian. Jiang Cheng wasn’t allowed out. His mother would scold him for getting all cold and wet, trudging snow and mud onto the clean floors. His sister was in a similar position. She’s probably tucked away in her room, focusing on her lessons.
“But—”
“Do not talk back. And don’t misbehave like that Little Wei.”
Jiang Cheng is silent the rest of his time with his mother.
When he’s free to go, Jiang Cheng goes up to his room, the warmth of his home giving him a bit of comfort. This is all he’s ever known. The distance of his parents, the rigidness of their family. Up until Wei Wuxian was adopted into his family a few years ago.
Wei Wuxian made his father friendlier. Wei Wuxian made his sister open up.
(Wei Wuxian made his mother crueler.)
Jiang Cheng flops onto his bed, exhaustion seeping into his bones. And as he hits the mattress, something shifts, knocking gently into his head. Jiang Cheng peeks up at a box that wasn’t here before.
Jiang Cheng rotates it, finding some writing on it.
[To: A-Cheng, From: A-Xian and Jiejie]
Jiang Cheng sits up, moving the box into his lap to open it.
In it was...
_
... a handmade plushie of a small dog.
It matches the exact same one Jiang Cheng had received all those years ago, even if it seems to be sewn better.
Jiang Cheng stares at the toy in his hand.
“Uncle?” Jin Ling snaps him out of his thoughts. Jiang Cheng is aware of how everyone is still staring at him, waiting for his reaction. “Do you... not like it?”
“No,” Jiang Cheng finds his voice. “I do. It’s... I like it.”
Sizhui leans over to look at it. “It’s cute. Is it a puppy?”
Jiang Cheng nods and balances the dog on his palm. Its legs, while rounded and cute, actually help it stand up so he can present it. His old one still needs the support of his picture frame to stay upright.
“Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian says, voice almost nervous. Imagine that. “Merry Christmas.”
Yanli smiles at them both. “Merry Christmas, A-Cheng.”
(Jiang Cheng doesn’t cry. He doesn’t, no matter what Wei Wuxian told anyone after that day.
But he does smile. Jiang Cheng admits that much.)