Chapter Text
For once, the weekend is boring.
This is mostly because Qi Yan is home, and more loosely because everyone else and their mothers are also home. It’s a four day weekend. After a certain point on Friday afternoon, the only other person left on her hall is Ding You, which is a special kind of tortured hell for Jingnu to occupy. Even Qiuju has abandoned her in her hour of need, left to go visit her own household forty minutes away from campus, forty minutes away from Jingnu’s heightened suffering.
The situation only continues to deteriorate when Ding You suggests that they get brunch together on Saturday morning.
Jingnu has had two days since Thursday to recover from severing the connection between her and Qi Yan. Of course, they still texted and of course, they still sent each other Word Hunt matches and of course, Jingnu would send graphically violent gifs each time he defeated her (which was every time), but it was all so aggressively platonic that Jingnu could have cried – did cry, in fact, an embarrassingly frequent amount before Ding You apparently used his supersonic hearing to source her misery through the walls despite their rooms being on opposite ends of the hall and took it upon himself to play the savior.
ding you 9:21 a.m.
Hello
Are you awake
nangong jingnu 9:23 a.m.
yes
did something break
are you in any mortal danger
is the toilet clogged again
if it is please for the love of god just submit a fix-it request
ding you 9:25 a.m.
No, no, and no for the record i did submit one last month and they never came so i just bought a plunger and off brand draino and i think i fixed it because now every time i flush its like a whirlpool but its not clogged anymore
nangong jingnu 9:25 a.m.
awesome i am going back to sleep now
ding you 9:25 a.m.
Hold on
Would you like to get brunch at Tuba
nangong jingnu 9:26 a.m.
um
??????
ding you 9:27 a.m.
There is something that i require your services for
Not RA services
Scheming services
nangong jingnu 9:27 a.m.
i do not scheme.
ding you 9:28 a.m.
Oh so you expect me to believe that dinner last month with gongyang huai and liu yu an happened serendipitously
nangong jingnu 9:28 a.m.
.
i’ll meet you in the common room at 10
She can’t even believe that she agrees to this. At first she’s a little afraid that saying no would piss Ding You off badly enough to where he would then tell Qi Yan that the dinner had been a scheme and everything following was also the product of Jingnu’s sick, twisted mind; but then, she realizes that if Ding You’s blind (figuratively, literally) ass figured it out, then there’s no way that Qi Yan hasn’t known for at least double the amount of time Ding You has.
This truth just makes the ache in her chest throb even harder, reverberating in her bones like the thumb of a heavy bass, thick and potent enough to inspire nausea.
The only thing she can stand to look at is plain vanilla yogurt and some hot passion tea. Jingnu sits there, primly, tightly, grumpily, as Ding You ambles back with his own plateful of steaming hot, bland, nearly medicinal breakfast. Ugh.
“Out with it,” Jingnu deadpans, already over whatever conversation is about to be had.
Dinig You sips at his disgusting pale green broth, glasses fogging over. “First of all, I trust that none of this will make its way back to any uninvolved parties?”
“You can stop talking like this is a fucking noir film. No, I won’t blab. Now spill.”
He grimaces. Jingnu can’t tell if it’s because of what he just put in his mouth, or because of what he’s trying to psyche himself up to say.
“Right. Well. On the topic of…scheming…”
“Yes?”
“I know that you are…somewhat proficient…”
“Yes.”
“So I would like to…request your assistance in a certain matter pertaining to–”
“--Ding You, I swear to God–”
“IneedhelpseducingGuqiBayin!”
Jingnu reels back, as though she’s just been slapped. “Excuse me?”
‘Don’t make me repeat myself,” Ding You mutters miserably into his broth.
“No, no. I think I will. You need help doing what to who?”
“Guqi. Bayin,” he forces out. “I need help. Seducing. Him. Stop laughing. Why are you laughing. People are staring, Jingnu, stop.”
“Sorry, sorry, I just – really? You don’t want to like – I don’t know, wine and dine him first? Take him out on a bookstore date?”
Ding You sniffs. “I have needs too, you know.”
“Yeah,” scoffs Jingnu, “needs other than ‘playing Kirby’ every night?”
He has to take the glasses off because they look fucking ridiculous all fogged up like that. Still, even if he weren’t squinting at her to try and make out her face, Jingnu still thinks Ding You would be wearing a strained and confused expression. “Why do you say it like that?”
“Say it like what?”
“Like playing Kirby is some sort of euphemism.”
“Is it not?”
A beat of silence passes between them. “No, it’s not. You have to know that Qi Yan is a lesbian. Like, the biggest D-Word-I-Can’t-Say on this campus besides you, maybe.”
“I mean, like, I know that but…”
“And you also have to know,” Ding You enunciates, slowly, “that I am a distinguished homosexual.”
Now, this hits her harder than the news about Guqi Bayin. Jingnu takes a second to be appropriately shell-shocked, her nervous system slowing down along with the rest of her surroundings, until everything exists in an awful, contained kind of slow motion, the kind of lag that loads a video two seconds at a time, the stilted, discordant, isolated moments of a larger scene lost in the unforgiving void of perpetual buffering.
“But,” Jingnu gasps, weakly, when she is once again able to breathe. “But, but. You and Qi Yan – or just you, then, you’ve had a crush on them forever!”
That fucking darksided twink has the nerve to laugh at her! “I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me!”
“We’ve only ever been best friends! Since we were, like, ten! We may both be gay but we’re on opposite ends of that spectrum. The childhood friends trope only works if you’re both compatible types of gay.”
Oh my God. “Oh my God,” says Jingnu, shellshocked.
“You couldn’t have actually believed I liked him, or anything. Or that we were – what? Hooking up? Really?”
Jingnu buries her face in her hands, and is grateful for the first time that morning that she’d forgone putting on makeup before walking out of the door. “Nooooooo,” she moans, anguished.
If she’d read this wrong, what else had she missed? What other pieces of vital information has she misconstrued or overlooked? Ding You and Qi Yan being involved, even unrequitedly, was an integral part to the plan…
Her head is spinning. She would say she needs to sit down, but she’s already sitting down. She needs to lie down. She needs a fucking nap. “So you guys aren’t fucking. You don’t even want to fuck Qi Yan. You never have.”
Ding you wipes his glasses and shoves them back on his round little egghead. “Never. Well, I mean, maybe fleetingly, in our youth. But I was confused and lonely and Qi Yan was my only friend for a good long while and the woman who was charged as our handler at the time was…ahem. Point being, no, we never have, and I hope to God we never will.”
“So when you guys leave group plans early to play Kirby…and when he goes back to your room to play Kirby…and when you text him asking him when he’s free to go play Kirby with you…”
“Yes, we are actually playing the 2022 release of Kirby and the Forgotten Land. Among other things.”
“Other things?”
“I really shouldn’t be telling you this.”
“I will wring your neck, yank out your innards, and string them from the roof of Chengli,” says Jingnu, quietly. “You will tell me.”
“Jesus?”
“He can’t save you from me. Say it.”
Ding you rolls his eyes. “Well, it’s not like you don’t already know.”
She kind of wants to start crying again. “If I already knew I wouldn’t be debasing myself like this asking you, you fucking creature, oh my actual God just tell me!”
“We talk about you.”
“You what.”
“We play Kirby so Qi Yan has something to look at that isn’t another human face as he gushes about you for hours,” Ding you drones, bored. “Or didn’t you know? There, happy? Oh, holy shit. You didn’t. You had no clue. Fuck.”
“What does he say,” asks Jingnu, faintly.
“Well, at this point, fuck it. We’ve already made it this far. He’s out of the fucking city, now, so he can deal with the consequences of his own inaction when he gets back. The better question is what doesn’t he say? Oh, Ding You, did you see what Jingnu wore today? Oh, Ding You, did you hear how Jingnu asked about my research proposal? Oh, Ding You, do you think she thinks it’s cool that I made the president's list every semester? Like, how the fuck am I supposed to know the answer to any of that? I wish he would just ask you.”
It is this last omission that clicks everything into place. Ding You’s passive aggression towards her had never stemmed from a place of jealousy – he just wanted his best friend back. A best friend who had a new interest in an outside party, to the point where even other outside parties were hearing about it. Every outside party that mattered except Jingnu herself, apparently. Which would mean that Qi Yan didn’t want her to know about the way in or frequency at which they talked about her. Which would mean–
“They like me?”
“Good God,” moans Ding You, “No, they’re in love with you, have been for months, actually, but nice effort. Now can we please get back to how I’m going to seduce Guqi Ba– oh no.”
He’s looking somewhere over her shoulder in horror and Jingnu must forcibly tether herself back into the present moment because if she does not she fears she may faint. Okay, be grounded now, compartmentalize and process the whole Qi-Yan-is-apparently-in-love-with-her thing later. She can do that. Deep breaths, Jingnu, deep breaths. “What,” she asks, like a good friend. “What is it?”
“Behind you,” meeps Ding You.
Predictably, when Jingnu turns around she’s greeted by the sight of Guqi Bayin’s big, hunky, dopey ass. He looks fresh out of practice, with his university cap on and soccer jersey still slightly damp with sweat. He ambles over to their table, lugging his ridiculously lightweight looking backpack (not a notebook or laptop in that bad boy, Jingnu is sure), and plops down heavily next to her, directly opposite Ding You. Hm. Interesting.
“Hey guys,” he grins, “what’s up?”
“What are you doing here,” asks Ding You, flatly, and then promptly looks mortified. “I mean. It is a. A four day weekend. Why are you – here.” Which doesn’t sound any better but, oh well, he tried.
To his credit, Bayin seems no less discouraged. Also interesting. “Have some mandatory practices today and tomorrow, you know how it is,” he says, like Ding You is at all familiar with how a ball works. “Not so bad! Campus is peaceful without all the riffraff running around. Don’t you think?”
“And you’re not included in said riffraff. Obviously.”
“Oh, for sure,” Bayin laughs easily, shedding his windbreaker from around his waist to throw over his shoulders. That thing has to be at least two sizes too small. Ding You’s spoon nearly misses his mouth.
This is almost painful to look at, so Jingnu looks somewhere else, and internally curses when she catches sight of fucking Chuntao from across the dining hall, where the other woman stands in the omelet station line…with…Qiuju.
Jingnu watches the pair of them operate in a strange microcosm of intimacy, in the middle of the crowded dining hall. Chuntao asks something Jingnu cannot hear and then leans down to press her ear against Qiuju’s lips, presumably to hear her over the volume of the line. Chuntao nods once, firmly, and then ushers Qiuju out of the queue by the small of her back, firm hands decisive and capable against the flowy floral fabric of Qiuju’s sundress. Qiuju lets herself be led and drifts away to where their shared table must be, judging from the collection of cardigans and tote bags.
Jingnu’s eyes flit back to the omelet bar, where Chuntao is leaning over the plexiglass divider to order, holding up two fingers to signal a double order. After she receives both plates, she hustles over to the table and sets Qiuju’s down first in front of her, yanking a fistful of napkins out of the holder to catch the hot oil from where it spills off the side of the ceramic dish. The whole time, Qiuju’s gaze is glued to her phone, elbow propped up on the table and leant away from Chuntao’s ministrations. Even when Chuntao forks a bite of the omelet and blows on it, bringing it to Qiuju’s mouth, still the other girl merely accepts it with slackened lips, scrolling through whatever is so goddamned interesting on that tiny, bright little screen. She turns the device around to show Chuntao what she’d been looking at: Gongyang Huai’s most recent Instagram upload.
Something rattles within Jingnu, at the display; something that makes her feel hollow and off-kilter and unsteady. She can’t tear her eyes away from how Chuntao continues to feed her, face carefully blank in the wake of Qiuju’s total lack of regard. Still, Chuntao persists. Still, Chuntao cares for her, with no quest for compensation or even acknowledgement.
And suddenly, Thursday night makes a whole lot of sense. The near-perfect date, the urgent air of passion that Chuntao had tried so desperately to manufacture from thin air, the goodbye kiss, the suggestion of something more, something stable, something that would keep them both occupied and separate from their own entanglements.
It is for a breath of a second Chuntao’s eyes wander and catch Jingnu’s. She doesn’t even pause in her feeding of Qiuju. The two of them linger in that moment, that transient experience of total, mutual understanding, and then one of them (Jingnu can’t tell which) blinks and it’s over. Chuntao goes back to devoting all of her focus unto Qiuju and Jingnu hesitantly taps back into whatever sad excuse for flirting that Ding You and Bayin are batting between them.
Jingnu knows, as soon as their wandering eyes lose each other in the sea of Tuba’s brunch rush, that she is going to delete Chuntao’s number. She also knows that Chuntao will likely delete hers.
She laughs into her tea, in disbelief. She got used for a scheme, herself. Albeit, a failed one, but still. The knowledge is enough to wrench her lips into a rueful little smile. Well, there’s a first time for everything, she supposes.
“--and that’s why I think Easter is a scam. Like, where the fuck did they bunny come from, you know? What are they trying to sell us here? You can’t trust Big Easter, Ding You.”
“Big Easter. Like, Big Pharma, but for the Easter Bunny.”
“Yeah.”
“You are so stupid,” Ding You says, salivating. “that is literally the dumbest thing I have ever heard.”
“I can be so much dumber.”
Jingnu stands, rising with her bowl and now-empty cup of tea. “I think I am going to leave the table now.”
It’s almost comical, the way Ding You whips his head to look up at her with a plea in his eyes. She tries to convey as much of you do not need any seduction tips in the slightest, comrade as she can through the way she tosses him a muted smile before waving goodbye to them both as she slips out of Tuba.
To her credit, Jingnu really does try to hold out until she gets home, but the siren’s song is just too strong and she’s well past worn down, at this point. She makes it about ten steps out of the dining hall before she’s whipping out her phone to FaceTime Qi Yan. After over a year of wondering, wanting, and waiting, Jingnu thinks she’s entitled to a little bit of impatience – just this once.
He picks up on the second ring. “Hey.” There’s a television in the background. Some kind of garish cartoon character bounces around on screen behind Qi Yan, bright colors flashing interchangeably, illuminating his usual wan, tired face.
“Hi,” says Jingnu, crossing the street. “Sorry, out right now. Can you hear me?”
“I can hear you fine, yes.”
“Cool. So, you’ll never guess what I just heard.”
“Gossipping isn’t – hold on,” Qi Yan turns their head away from the screen and Jingnu takes note of the strands of wispy hair falling out of the back of his bun. She has bobby pins to fix that, she thinks. “No, Yuxiao, you can have another sweet later, you just had a cookie. Because your stomach will hurt and then you will be sad. No, I don’t hate you. Okay, fine, just one more.” He comes back to center, glasses askew. “Sorry about that. Where was I?”
“Gossiping,” says Jingnu, keying herself into the dorm.
“Right. Gossiping is neither kind, nor becoming. I refuse to partake.”
“Are you sure? I think you’ll want to hear this juicy little tidbit. It’s from Ding You, after all.”
Here, the first signs of disturbance appear evident. Now that Jingnu knows what to look for, it’s so easy, so boldly in plain sight that she feels like a fool for not having taken notice of it sooner. A crease appears between Qi Yan’s high, arched brows, and a ripple passes over his face – clearly unintentional, because he tries to cover it as soon as it surfaces. “Oh?”
“Mhm! He told me something very interesting. Can you guess what it is? I think you should guess.”
Qi Yan stands up from where they’d been sprawled on what looks to be a couch. “How am I supposed to know what you two have been talking about? Speaking of that – you two talk, now?”
“Well, he really seemed to want to talk to me this morning. He was all passionate about it, too. Something-something, your inaction justifying the consequences that you will have to face once you get back to campus, something-something-or-other.”
For a second, she thinks the wifi has cut out and that he’s frozen – but no, both of their connections are fine, and Qi Yan is simply standing there, unmoving, unblinking, barely breathing. There could almost be a visible, physical loading sign hanging above their head. When they break out of their shellshock, they move with a forced, calculated calm, even though Jingnu can hear the harried thump-thump-thumping of his socked footsteps against hardwood as he hurries out of whatever common space he’d been in and rushes towards what Jingnu suspects to be his room, judging by the sheer amount of horse posters and academic awards plastered to the navy blue walls.
“Jingnu,” they say seriously, once they’ve set their phone up stably on their desk. “What did you two talk about today.”
“Oh! But I thought you didn’t like gossip? Are you really going to go back on your word?”
“Jingnu.”
“I think,” she smiles, all teeth, snapping her phone into the pastel pink stand on her desk, “that I am going to make you guess.”
“Jingnu–”
“--Or say something, at least. Anything. I’m not going to hand it to you this time. If you think you know what it is then say it.” Please, Jingnu does not say, but she’s sure it’s heard loud and clear.
If he cannot do it this time – even after Jingnu has led him here, to this moment, has given him the puzzle pieces, has provided him with the opportunity to bare his sentiments to her– she doesn’t know what she’ll do. Actually she has a pretty good idea of what she’ll do, and it’s quite a violent image.
She almost thinks he’s going to retreat from her once more, behind that wall of ice he puts up after they’re done having sex and the bed is starting to feel a bit too comfortable, comfortable enough that Jingnu will find herself dozing off, warm, safe, and content, only to be shut out of that the moment she starts to really sink into that feeling of overwhelming security. So, yeah, maybe she’s being mean right now. She also doesn’t care enough to stop being mean.
Qi Yan blinks at the camera once, twice, and then runs a finger through his hair, mussing the curtain bangs at the front and pulling his bun loose so that warm, deep darkness envelopes his face and neck not entirely unlike how the night wraps around the glimmering, svelte twinkle of a crescent moon.
“There’s no way you didn’t know,” he starts, quietly.
“I knew you wanted to fuck me, sure.”
They reel back, features blown wide, slack, and open in surprise. “But surely that’s – I did, I do. Obviously. Is that truly all you thought it was, for me?”
“What was I supposed to think,” Jingnu asks, fingers digging into her palms so hard she knows that there will be bruises, later,, “when you looked like you’d rather shoot yourself dead than let me spend the night.”
“I–”
“I know you need your space. But did you really need that space right after we were done having sex? Every single time?”
Yikes. Well, she sure did say that.
She can’t take it back, either, now that it’s out in the open. There’s nothing she can say to soften the blow once it’s already landed, nothing she can do to smooth away the wince of pain that flits over Qi Yan’s face. “You’re right. But,” and here, they lean closer to the camera, eyes newly alight, “but, how was I supposed to know you wanted more than just sex? When had you ever expressed to me that a different connection was on the table?”
“When! Well, when I–!” And then Jingnu stops because she has nothing to say in defense of herself. “Touché.”
“I will give you credit for the numerous, dedicated elaborate schemes you pulled off within a two month period. Roping in Chuntao? That was true dedication. A low blow, yes, but I grew to respect your commitment after the fact.”
“Ohmigosh, really? Thank you! The idea for that first dinner, back in April, came to me in a dream. Like a premonition, almost.”
“It was some of your best work. I think if I wasn’t already in love with you that would have solidified it.”
Jingnu plays with the loose tendrils of hair that escape her ribboned ponytail. “Awww, thank you! It actually took a lot of planning on my and Qiuju’s parts and – wait, hold on. I’m sorry? What did you just say?”
“It was some of your best work.” Qi Yan inclines his head.
“Thank you! Again. But, like, after that?”
“Oh. If I weren’t already in love with you, then I–”
“Right,” exhales Jingnu, taking a shaky sip from her fuschia Hydro Flask. She needs to hydrate or she is going to pass out. “That part. So when you say ‘weren’t already in love with,’ do you mean, like,”
“Yes.” Qi Yan faces the camera head-on, face determinedly serious, the kind of expression that used to intimidate her, before she knew what it meant. “Since the first day I met you.”
“Okay. I’m feeling normal emotions about that.”
“How about you?”
“Also. Me as well. The first day. That we. Yes.”
“Alright. Also feeling very normal emotions.”
“Yep.”
“Great.”
“Cool.”
“Awesome.”
“So how do you feel about phone sex, in theory.”
“Overwhelmingly positive. Let me switch to my laptop, though, so I can share my screen. I have a tab of lingerie pulled up and I want you to pick some things out. What’s your favorite style, by the way?”
“Honestly? Babydolls.”
“Good, I have three in the cart already.”
Jingnu groans, stripping off her jumper. “God, when do you get home? Monday? Criminal.”
“Could be earlier,” says Qi Yan as he unbuttons his collared shirt and tugs at the hem of his sweater vest. "Could be tomorrow, if you wanted."
“Huh? But don’t you have to stay with the babies? And what about Xiaodie?”
"They're recovering well enough now. Besides, I’ve spent enough time making you wait. Any longer would be remiss of me.”
Jingnu isn't used to this direct, unabashed affection from Qi Yan in a context enveloping both sexual and romantic attraction. It's enough to have her face blooming a thousand different shades of red, each more potent and vibrant than the last. Her panties -- already approaching the super-soaker danger zone ever since Qi Yan picked up the phone in that messy bun and those round reading glasses -- are now a lost cause, beyond hope, drenched beyond belief. She is going to die. “I’m going to die and it’s going to be all your fault. You have to take responsibility. Or else.”
“I’ll take responsibility,” says Qi Yan, smiling. “for the both of us, then.”