Chapter Text
Lan Qiren adjusts his necktie, snugging the knot up against his throat, smoothing back his hair one final time before taking his briefcase in hand and heading out to start his day.
In truth, Lan Qiren’s day should have started several hours ago. It is already 9 in the morning. Normally, he would have left at 6am to get to his office at Gusu University by 6:30. He would spend the three hours before his first lecture preparing notes and lesson plans for the next week.
He’s behind now. He’ll have to work late to catch up, something he hates to do. Today is his grocery day. If he works late tonight, that would mean he’ll have to shop another day, which in turn would bump another chore further down the line.
Lan Qiren doesn’t sigh as he thinks about the mess that his week has become—he isn’t the sort of person to sigh—but he does sag a little before standing up straight again.
There is no helping it. Xiangyun’s health is frail, and things like emergency trips to the hospital have to be expected and accounted for. If that means that Lan Qiren will be called upon to watch his nephews and see them off to school as he was today, then so be it.
It is with these thoughts swirling through his head that Lan Qiren sees him for the first time.
A small boy dressed in strange clothes—a pair of worn pants with holes in the knees and a t-shirt in a fluorescent purple with a large white flower emblazoned across the front—is knocking on Meng Shi’s door.
Lan Qiren looks for a moment. He thinks at first that maybe the boy is Meng Shi’s son—he’s fairly certain she has a son, although…no, the boy is too young, he’s sure her son is older than that. This boy appears to be about A-Zhan’s age. Why isn’t he in school?
The door opens, Meng Shi clutching the neck of her robe closed as she looks down at the boy.
“Hello!” he says with a loud, energetic manner. “I’m Wei Ying! I’m your new neighbor! I brought a gift, thanks for looking out for me!”
The boy reaches down into the grocery bag at his side that Lan Qiren hadn’t noticed before (it looks too heavy for the boy to carry, and Lan Qiren wonders how he managed it) and pulls out two loquats, holding them out to Meng Shi.
“Oh…thank you?” Meng Shi says, taking the fruit.
A-Ying is staring at her, the intensity in his expression a little disconcerting. Meng Shi begins to fidget, looking over her shoulder. Lan Qiren wonders if she has brought someone home, then shakes the thought away. It is none of his business and rude to speculate.
“You’ve been crying.”
It is not a question.
Meng Shi is taken aback, more so as A-Ying yells, “Wait here!” and dashes off, wrenching open the apartment door between Meng Shi’s and Lan Qiren’s.
Lan Qiren and Meng Shi’s eyes meet. Her eyes are puffy, Lan Qiren realizes. Puffy and red and sore looking. He hadn’t noticed.
“Is he—?”
Whatever Meng Shi had been about to ask is cut off though as A-Ying comes pelting back, a brightly colored bottle in his hands. “For you!” he says, holding it out for her.
She blinks down at it, reading the label. “Juice?”
“The bottle is cold! If you put it on your eyes, they’ll feel better!”
“I—thank you.”
“You’re welcome! Feel better!”
Meng Shi nods, then, hesitantly, closes the door.
A-Ying grabs the handles of the grocery bag, hoisting it onto his shoulder. It pulls him down a little, but he just turns a sunny smile on Lan Qiren.
“Hello! I’m Wei Ying! I’m your new neighbor! I brought a gift, thanks for looking out for me!”
Lan Qiren accepts his loquats, watching as A-Ying trudges off to the next apartment.
As he walks to work, Lan Qiren breaks one of his rules: he eats while walking. It’s impolite, his mother would be horrified; but Lan Qiren is very tired, very late, and very hungry. He takes one of the loquats and bites into it, pleasantly surprised that it is the perfect ripeness. A lovely gift from a new neighbor.
Lan Qiren will have to stop by A-Ying’s apartment later, both to thank his parents and also to have a word with them. A-Ying is too young to be knocking on strangers’ doors. It isn’t safe.
He finishes the second loquat just as he arrives at the university, cleaning his hands with the handkerchief he keeps on his person and putting A-Ying out of his mind.
It’s late when Lan Qiren returns home. Xiangyun only returned from the hospital an hour ago, meaning that Lan Qiren had left work early to pick up his nephews from school, listening to A-Huan’s stories as he took them back to their mother’s place to wait for her release.
It had only been a minor episode this time. But Xiangyun had hit her head, hard enough that the doctors had ordered an MRI. The long wait for the results had yielded nothing new: no concussion, no damage, no swelling. Just the same dark mass, slowly growing.
He has all but forgotten his plan to speak with A-Ying’s parents, when he sees a large figure looming at A-Ying’s door. The man is wearing a green tracksuit zipped to the throat. It’s too small on him, stretched tight over the breadth of his chest and shoulders. He’s tall—taller than Lan Qiren, even, who is not a small man. The man has a hard face, made more stern and severe by the dark mustache resting over his lip.
Lan Qiren approaches cautiously. The man’s hair is long, tied back into a tight bun. A bit of pink peeks out of the dark mass of his hair, and Lan Qiren notices that there are tiny braids twisted into the bun, tied off with brightly colored bands in a rainbow of colors. As he draws up to the man’s side, Lan Qiren quickly re-evaluates. This close, he can see that the mustache is sparse, still growing in. His face is stern, but he can make out a bit of softness in his jaw, peppered as it is with a painful looking combination of razor bumps and acne.
Not a man, then…or, not quite yet. A boy.
The door opens and A-Ying is there, smiling up at the stranger.
“Da-ge! Hi!”
Da-ge? Is this the boy’s brother, then? His caretaker perhaps?
“A-Ying. I wanted to thank you for the loquats. A-Sang enjoyed them. Are your parents home?”
A-Sang…
The pieces clicked into place. This must be Nie Mingjue, the resident of apartment 1c. He had introduced himself and his brother Nie Huaisang when they moved in a year ago. He’d changed a lot in the last year. Grown. Lan Qiren hadn’t even recognized him.
“Nope! It’s just A-Ying here!”
Lan Qiren frowns. The boy is home alone? Surely he’s too young for that. It’s irresponsible of his caretakers.
Lan Qiren approaches, nodding to Nie Mingjue cordially, before he turns to A-Ying. “Young man, are your parents at work? They should not have left you home alone without a caretaker."
"No, shushu!" The boy shakes his head vigorously, large eyes growing wide. "A-Ying lives alone!"
"What?" Nie Mingjue's voice is gruff, but his manner is kind as he crouches down to the boy's level, meeting him eye-to-eye. "A-Ying. Where are your parents?"
A-Ying's smile falters as his eyes dart from Nie Mingjue, to Lan Qiren, to the floor, and then back to Nie Mingjue. He pins his smile back in place, the effort behind it making something in Lan Qiren's chest tighten. A-Ying leans forward to whisper in Nie Mingjue's ear, and Lan Qiren leans in to hear as well. "Mama and Baba are on a mission!" he announces in a carrying whisper. "They’re spies! A-Ying lives here until they come back!"
"Is that so?" Nie Mingjue looks sideways at Lan Qiren, no doubt seeking his guidance.
But Lan Qiren isn't sure what to say. He doesn't know what to make of this. He straightens, looking past A-Ying into the apartment. It's sparsely furnished, with no decorations. But it seems to have the essentials, and it is well maintained. There are no piles of dishes or trash, no indication of pests or difficult living.
Lan Qiren looks down at A-Ying again. He looks healthy, though Lan Qiren knows that looks can be deceiving. And there are some small signs of hardship that Lan Qiren had failed to notice that morning: the boys hair is a little overgrown, and there are stains on his clothes that look as though they have been there for a while.
Within the home, an alarm begins to ring. "Ah!" A-Ying jumps. "I have to go. It’s time for Huluwa! Goodnight, shushu! Goodnight da-ge!"
The door closes with a snap and the sound of a lock clicking into place.
Nie Mingjue stands, the bafflement on his face reflecting Lan Qiren's inner feelings perfectly.
"Do you think he's actually on his own?"
Lan Qiren doesn't know. He merely hums, uncertain of what to say. Nie Mingjue gives the door a conflicted look, then shakes his head.
"I have to go make dinner for A-Sang. Goodnight, Lan-laoshi."
"Goodnight, young man."
⁂
Lan Qiren awakens the next morning with a plan.
Last night, he struggled to sleep. It's unfortunate; two days of disrupted sleep schedule leaves him groggy and irritable. He hopes he will not be called on to watch his nephews today. He loves them dearly, but he fears his temper might be short.
It is in this state that he walks over at 5:45am and knocks on A-Ying's door.
After a minute without answer, he knocks again, louder this time.
There are noises within, now. The soft sound of socked feet padding towards the door, the grinding of a lock, and a moment later A-Ying stands before him: hair sleep-tousled, wearing a bright purple shirt of the same design as before, though this one is a little more worn. He rubs blearily at his eyes with the back of his hand, blinking up at Lan Qiren.
"Shushu?"
"Who is doing your washing?"
He doesn't mean it to come out how it does: sharp and a little scolding. A-Ying drops his hand to his side, going stiff.
"I do, shushu."
Lan Qiren frowns. "It is wrong to tell lies."
A-Ying continues to stare at him, hardly moving except…except for the small trembling in his fists. He sees Lan Qiren looking at them, and moves his hands behind his back, as if to hide them. "I…A-Ying is sorry."
Lan Qiren takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. "There's no need for that." He tries again, softer this time. "A-Ying. Your clothes are dirty. It is unhealthy to wear dirty clothes."
The boy looks like he's going to cry. No…no, that's a tear slipping down his cheek. He is crying, his face pointed down towards the floor. "The washer is broken. I didn't mean to, I didn't know how—I'm sorry, shushu. A-Ying will get new clothes…"
He trails off into sniffles, trying very hard to keep it in. Like this, shoulders shaking with the effort not to cry, hands clenched behind his back, Lan Qiren can't help but be reminded of A-Zhan. A-Zhan and the big feelings he struggles to keep inside and make small.
"You will bring me your clothes to wash from now on," Lan Qiren says. "Bring them to me by 6pm on Wednesday. That is the day I do the laundry."
A-Ying stops shaking. He looks up at Lan Qiren, his eyes wet and face a little splotchy. His nose is running, and he wipes it on his sleeves. "Okay, shushu."
Lan Qiren considers if he should tell the boy to use a tissue. Or, maybe, if he should wrap his arms around him and hug him the way he might hug A-Huan.
Instead, he nods. "Have a good day, A-Ying."
A-Ying smiles at him, big and bright and warming. "Bye, shushu!"
Lan Qiren heads to work. He’ll need to make adjustments, if he is going to be doing A-Ying’s laundry in the evening along with his own. The boy probably doesn’t have much, but it is best to account for these things.
As he sits in his office, staring down at his lecture notes, eyes wandering over the words pointlessly, Lan Qiren wonders what else A-Ying might be hiding.