Work Text:
Xie Lian’s faucet is broken. The constant drip drip drip is, admittedly, starting to drive him a little bit insane. He’s normally the epitome of calm and collected, what with years of painting on a smile and resigning himself to the chaotic nature of living. So he should be able to ignore how the faucet leaks, and how each droplet dings against the metal sink incessantly. It keeps him up late into the night, when even meditative sutras can’t drag him back into a deep sleep.
He realizes this is all just a culmination of every small inconvenience finally wearing down his composure. A broken fan during a horrible heatwave that has him writhing in bed and waking in a pool of sweat. A stolen bike, which made him late for work and forced him to spend money on a “new” one. The extra hours put in at the office, and the colleagues that dump all of their unwanted work onto him. Just because Xie Lian said, once, the he wanted to help them whenever he could. Sure Xie Lian is patient and relatively relaxed compared to most, but he supposes even he has his limits. He’s just a normal person, after all.
He knows the faucet won’t be getting fixed any time soon. Not by his landlord, who has ignored every maintenance request Xie Lian has messaged him about. It’s probably illegal.
Xie Lian dumps the remains of a meal he attempted: jelly noodles and an aromatic broth. What he’d actually ended up with was a block so hard not even his knife could cut through it, and a broth resembling cleaning solution, and smelling much like it, too. He gives his faucet, his apartment, his life, one more glance before grabbing his keys and stepping out of his apartment. When he closes the door, something rattles precariously, but he ignores it. A problem to address another time.
He ventures out into the warm summer evening. The shrill of cicadas echoes throughout the neighborhood; some of their carcasses decorate the sidewalks and the base of trees. The night is still painted orange by a July sun that refuses to set. It claws onto the horizon even as the evening moon begins appear above the skies.
“It’s still so hot,” Xie Lian laments the sticky humidity that immediately clings to his skin. His oversized shirt hangs over his lithe frame, but he can feel it stick to his back the longer he walks. He fans himself with his hand a few times, but all it does is circulate hot air against his face. He winces when he feels the first trickle of sweat skim down his spine.
It’s his birthday. A fact he’s been ignoring for most of the day. He hadn’t told anyone at work — not that it probably would’ve made any difference with all but one — and it hadn’t fully dawned on him until he’d arrived back home and was faced with the sheer emptiness of his apartment. The silence that greeted him.
He should’ve been used to it by now. It isn’t the first birthday he celebrates this way, and probably won’t be the last.
It’s just a day like any other, he tells himself as he turns the corner. He’s ambling through the neighborhood, mostly following the automatic movements of someone familiar with where he’s going. He’s headed to one of his favorite hole in the wall restaurants. A mom and pop restaurant that sells soups, dumplings, and steaming meat buns. All made fresh daily, and, lucky for him, open late.
He’s not celebrating. This isn’t a birthday celebration of any kind. Xie Lian’s simply, well, tired. And there wasn’t enough food back home to attempt another meal. He’s tired and he’s hungry, so he’s eating out that night. A night that just so happens to be his birthday.
Instead of focusing on the occasion, he allows himself a moment to take in the passing streets. The buildings, all a bit old and worn with their blackened walls and chipping paint. The balconies teeming with potted plants and clothing lines. The distant sounds of families talking and televisions playing. A city that lacks any of the shine and polish of the bigger, more popular, destinations, but one that is, in his opinion, so vibrant and full of life. He had moved there two years prior. He’d found an office job that paid well enough — at least when compared to every other temp job Xie Lian had ever had — and had settled into one of the older buildings. It was a nightmare but, in some weird and perhaps messed up way, it was charming.
Xie Lian turns the corner and finally sees the vibrant sign of the restaurant. The air smells savory, and his empty stomach grumbles in delight. He can already imagine the taste of the slightly sweet meat, and the soft bouncy texture of the bun. His mouth waters, and he picks up his steps.
“Hello,” he greets when he enters.
The auntie that manages the tables and orders greets him. She recognizes him immediately. “Welcome! It’s been too long!” She ushers Xie Lian inside, to a table near the window.
He smiles. “It has. It’s been busy at work.” He half-lies. He simply didn’t have enough money to afford eating out regularly. He’d had to buy a new bike, which, even though used, had consumed the extra money he might’ve used for indulgences like eating at restaurants.
She doesn’t seem to think anything of it, and leaves Xie Lian behind only after making him promise to come more often, because her daughter sometimes helps at the restaurant. His face hurts from smiling politely at her, even though he has no interest in anyone’s daughter. He doesn’t have time for anyone, barely himself.
He’s sipping the green tea she delivers him when he feels, strangely enough, eyes upon him. A strange sensation at the nape of his neck, as if he feels the whisper of another’s voice. He’s imagining it; there’s no one behind him. But it’s enough to prompt him to look up.
When he does, his eyes land on a person sitting at the table just across from him. His eyes caught gazing directly at Xie Lian. A look of slight surprise on his face.
Xie Lian’s breath catches.
“San…Lang…?” He says, also in surprise.
Hua Cheng, or San Lang as Xie Lian, and only Xie Lian, calls him, smiles. “Gege!”
Xie Lian swallows. Suddenly he thinks his oversized shirt is too tattered. His hair too disheveled. “Hi.” He smiles.
Hua Cheng stands, because of course he does. He’s the only one that ever seems eager to see Xie Lian. To talk to him. He stands and, hesitantly at first, walks up to Xie Lian’s table.
“How are you, gege? I didn’t know you live nearby.” He towers over the table. Hua Cheng is wearing a simple red t-shirt that exposes his arms. His toned arms. He’s wearing loose black linen shorts, and for the first time Xie Lian sees the butterfly tattoo on Hua Cheng’s calf. He’s never seen him dressed so casually, but then again he’s only ever seen Hua Cheng at the office.
They’re not technically coworkers. Xie Lian works in one department on the third floor, and Hua Cheng works in another on the fifth. But they’d met when someone in Xie Lian’s department had made a grave accounting error, which had apparently caused a downstream problem for Hua Cheng’s department.
It had been quite a sight to see someone so handsome storm into the office and chew out the clerk who’d made the error. Hua Cheng’s presence had brought a chill to the room. His clean-cut suit and pushed back hair were exceedingly handsome. But his tongue was sharp, and his tone full of contempt.
Xie Lian might’ve perhaps felt some sympathy for the clerk, if he hadn’t seen the man, on several occasions, playing games on his phone while idly completing the spreadsheet. That an error was made should have been no one’s surprise.
Hua Cheng, after reducing the man to a trembling mess, had turned to leave when in that moment, he and Xie Lian made eye contact. Xie Lian smiled. And Hua Cheng, to Xie Lian’s surprise after the scene he’d witnessed, had smiled, too. It was a miraculous shift in his expression. From hard lines and a deep scowl, to something soft and perhaps, Xie Lian thought he was imagining it, gentle.
Afterwards, Xie Lian found himself running to Hua Cheng more and more. In the break room for coffee, because, Hua Cheng explained, their machine was broken on the fifth floor. Or at the cafeteria in the third floor, where Xie Lian ate his meager lunch and Hua Cheng ate his own perfectly prepared lunchbox. For a long time, Xie Lian had wondered whether someone was cooking Hua Cheng’s meals, but Hua Cheng, after Xie Lian dared to ask, had gasped in feigned insult, and declared that he was the one making his own meals.
“I live alone, gege,” Hua Cheng had clarified.
It was also the first time he’d called Xie Lian “gege”. It was the day he’d asked Xie Lian to call him “San Lang” and perhaps also the day their friendship was solidified.
Xie Lian hadn’t seen Hua Cheng at the office that day. They’d been too busy, unfortunately.
“Can I join you, gege?” Hua Cheng tentatively asks.
“Of course!” Xie Lian is quick to agree.
Sure he thinks he’s dressed rather sloppily in comparison to Hua Cheng’s perfectly stylish outfit, but Hua Cheng has never given Xie Lian reason to think that he’d judge Xie Lian for it. That’s the thing about Hua Cheng: he never judges Xie Lian for anything. Like the time he’d tried Xie Lian’s lunch (an attempt at fried rice) and had crunched on the uncooked rice and said, with all the sincerity imaginable, that it was good but probably just needed a bit more water next time.
“It’s so hot today, huh?” Hua Cheng laments as he sits down. He signals the auntie that he’s moved tables, and she nods with a smile on her face.
Xie Lian grimaces. “How it’s thirty-four at eight in the evening should be a crime.”
Hua Cheng sighs. “Summers are the worst. Too much sun and it’s so humid I feel like taking a shower right after showering.”
Xie Lian laughs. Hua Cheng is pouting as he glances out the window, where the offending sun is only now starting to disappear beneath the horizon. Hua Cheng’s expressive face looks younger when he’s not wearing a suit and tie. He looks softer somehow, too, but maybe that’s just how Xie Lian always sees him.
“It’s been really hot at night, and my fan is broken so…” Xie Lian trails off. He’s not sure why he’s brought it up, as if to complain about it. He never complains.
Hua Cheng glances back at him. His expression turns from childish and pouty to serious. His piercing black eyes hold Xie Lian’s gaze, until the latter is forced to look away. “Is your landlord going to fix it?”
Xie Lian shrugs. “He never fixes anything. I’ll just get a floor fan next paycheck.”
“Gege, that’s in two weeks,” Hua Cheng’s tone shifts slightly. He sounds concerned, and also a bit angry.
“It’s fine, San Lang,” Xie Lian waves his hand dismissively. He smiles reassuringly, even though he secretly wants to admit that maybe things aren’t fine at all. He remembers the leaking faucet and tries to change the subject. “So you live around here, San Lang?”
Hua Cheng, perceptive as he is, notices how Xie Lian changes topic. But instead of pressing further, he willingly takes the bait. The corners of his mouth smooth into a semblance of a smile. “Yeah, not too far from here. I’d been doing a bit of work at home, and needed to get out. I thought I’d lose my mind seeing the incompetence of people’s work.” He scowls.
Xie Lian laughs. “That bad?”
“Gege,” Hua Cheng pouts again and leans over the table slightly, “why can’t I work with you more often instead? Everyone on your team is so incompetent.”
Xie Lian ignores the flutter of his heart when Hua Cheng rests his hand on his chin and stares at Xie Lian. “They can be a bit hard to work with, huh?” He scratches his cheek.
“A bit is an understatement. I don’t know how you put up with them.” Hua Cheng leans back and Xie Lian finally inhales.
They’re interrupted by the auntie who brings them, though neither of them asked, a few steamed dumplings and asks for their order. Xie Lian orders a bowl of noodle soup, and Hua Cheng a beef stir-fry.
When she’s left, the two return to their casual conversation.
Xie Lian learns that Hua Cheng has lived in the nearby apartment for around three years. He’d arrived to the city just a year earlier than Xie Lian, after graduating college. They talk about the neighborhood with equaled familiarity, and Xie Lian wonders how it was possible that after all those years this was the first time he runs into Hua Cheng. They shop at the same market, and frequent the same laundromat. On weekends Hua Cheng runs along the trail by the park. The same park Xie Lian runs in the mornings.
Lives just seconds away from crossing, but always keeping parallel paths. Seemingly destined to never meet.
Xie Lian, for what feels like the first time that whole day, finds himself talking. It’s some kind of magic Hua Cheng has over him. Before long, one or two dumplings in, he’s admitting to Hua Cheng that his faucet is broken. That his landlord doesn’t fix anything, and that actually he does hate not having a working fan.
Hua Cheng listens to Xie Lian attentively. And seethes on Xie Lian’s behalf when he hears the extent of his landlord’s negligence.
“I’ll go with you to talk to him next time, gege,” Hua Cheng’s tone hints at just how he plans on dealing with Xie Lian’s landlord, but all Xie Lian can think about is next time. As if there will be a tomorrow and a day after where he’s to see Hua Cheng outside the fluorescent office space.
Their food arrives and the conversation turns to Hua Cheng’s own life. Xie Lian, admitting only to himself a desire to know more about Hua Cheng, probes carefully for details.
“San Lang, why is someone as capable as you working that office job?” Xie Lian sips on a bit of broth. “You could be working at a big firm in the capital.”
Hua Cheng looks at Xie Lian pensively before responding. “I’m not really interested in doing office work, to be honest.” Then he grins, “but I’m honored to hear gege praise me so highly.”
Xie Lian blushes and nearly chokes on a noodle. It would be ironic for his life to be cut short by one. “San Lang…” he chides, embarrassed.
Hua Cheng laughs. “I’m serious, gege.”
“So if not this job, what else do you want to do?”
Hua Cheng leans back on his chair. “I’d like to open a bookstore.”
Xie Lian’s mouth hangs open slightly. Maybe it’s rude, but the admission comes as such a surprise. He imagines Hua Cheng living in luxury; in tailored suits and high-rise buildings. A CEO of a company, or another. The image, however, of Hua Cheng in a bookstore also, to Xie Lian’s surprise, feels oddly right.
Hua Cheng for his part doesn’t appear offended by Xie Lian’s blatant shock. He laughs. “Are you so surprised, gege?” Then he pouts, and really it’s beginning to do heavy damage to Xie Lian’s heart for some reason. He has the urge, he realizes, to pinch Hua Cheng’s cheek. “You can’t imagine me surrounded by books? Do I give such an air of someone lacking intelligence?”
“No!” Xie Lian quickly says. Hua Cheng’s eyes gleam with amusement, and belatedly he realizes he’s being teased. “I just, I thought you would be a CEO of some firm.”
Hua Cheng chuckles. “That might’ve been my dream when I was younger, I won’t lie. I was pretty poor growing up, and I thought the only worthwhile ambition was becoming wealthy.”
Xie Lian’s heart squeezes. This is new to him; he suddenly feels privy to a more vulnerable side to Hua Cheng.
“What changed?” Xie Lian pushes around a thin slice of beef in his bowl.
Hua Cheng doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he stares at Xie Lian with such intensity that inevitably has Xie Lian squirming slightly in place. It’s hard for him to hold Hua Cheng’s gaze. It has Xie Lian looking too long at his handsome face, and his heart, as it turns out, can’t quite handle it. He’s beginning to think Hua Cheng is just generally terrible for his heart. But also not seeing him is infinitely worse. So instead of looking away this time, he holds Hua Cheng’s gaze.
They stare at each other for a good long moment before finally Hua Cheng smiles and looks out the window.
“I’ve always been interested in books. They were a much-needed escape when I was young. I’m fascinated about anything and everything I can learn from them and,” He glances back at Xie Lian, “the ways they can connect people.”
Xie Lian remembers how, soon after they’d established a friendship, he and Hua Cheng had bonded over their love of ancient history. He had recommended Hua Cheng a book on ancient swords that he’d read at the library, and Hua Cheng had in turn lent Xie Lian one of his own.
He swallows the now cool broth and feels a lump in his throat. The soup settles heavily in his stomach.
“I think that’s a beautiful dream, San Lang.” Xie Lian says after a moment of silence.
Hua Cheng smiles. “What about you, gege?”
“What about me?” Xie Lian laughs. He realizes it comes off self-deprecating for some reason, if Hua Cheng’s grimace is any indication.
“You could be working anywhere.”
“Ah, I don’t know about that…”
“Gege,” Hua Cheng says in a hurt and scolding tone.
Xie Lian winces. He’s not quite sure what to make of it. He’s used to deflecting, but maybe it’s the heat or maybe it’s Hua Cheng, but he feels vulnerable, too. “I’m not sure, San Lang.” He says honestly. “I used to want to be a lawyer, many years ago. Maybe out of obligation, or something like that. These days I’m okay with a more quiet life. Maybe it’s nothing fancy, but it’s not too bad…”
Hua Cheng waits patiently.
Xie Lian finds he can’t stop talking now, so he rambles on. “I’d love to travel a bit. Maybe just settle in the countryside somewhere with a garden full of vegetables and flowers. And I’d just sit under a tree and eat water chestnuts while the cicadas scream in the trees.”
When he finishes talking, he feels a deep flush on his cheeks. The heat of the tips of his ears have Xie Lian pressing the palms of his hands against them. They’re only slightly cooler, and more clammy. He hates feeling so exposed all of a sudden.
But Hua Cheng doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t laugh sarcastically, nor say anything in contempt. Much like the responses from other people, who had deemed Xie Lian’s dream to be too mundane and lacking in ambition.
He was done being ambitious. He’d gotten close to the sun once, and he’d come back down to reality lapping his wounds and burrowing deep beneath into the cool earth. Planting his feet, so to speak. That he even dreamed of something remotely resembling happiness seemed to Xie Lian an already daring thing.
Hua Cheng suddenly chuckles. It’s not unkind, though, and it only makes Xie Lian’s cheek blush further. “I can imagine gege lying under a big maple tree. Chestnuts all around you.”
Xie Lian laughs. “It’s silly.” He says dismissively.
Hua Cheng shakes his head. “Not at all. I think that sounds like an amazing dream, gege. Much better than being a lawyer, if I’m being honest. Though,” he grins, “I do love to see gege argue with others.”
“San Lang!” Xie Lian groans. Hua Cheng is referencing an incident not too long ago, when a colleague of Xie Lian’s had lied about a figure in an account, and Xie Lian, right there in front of everyone, had correctly deduced the error and questioned the man, though not aggressively if he said so himself, to the point of him revealing the intentional mistake.
The coworker been attempting to fraudulently steal money, and Xie Lian had caught it. Hua Cheng had been there, though the story likely would’ve made its way to him anyway considering the fact that everyone was talking about it.
Quiet Xie Lian had, as it turned out, been far more astute than they’d realized.
Hua Cheng’s grin widens. Then his grin fades ever so slightly. “Won’t the countryside be a bit lonely, though?”
Lonely, Xie Lian thinks. He hadn’t thought about loneliness much because, he admits, it was now a familiar constant in his life. He doesn’t say that to Hua Cheng, however. Not quite.
“I’m sure there will be people around. Old ladies and grandpas.” He laughs. “Plus I’m used to being alone.” And there it is, he’s said more than he intended.
Hua Cheng’s smile fully fades. “I’d hope you wouldn’t be lonely in your dream, gege.”
“I’m…not…” Xie Lian glances away. Then, to ease the tension, he adds, “besides, maybe your bookshop will be closeby and I’ll be able to visit it whenever I want.” He laughs awkwardly, until it dawns on him just what exactly he has said. He’s just admitted, one way or another, to hoping to keep Hua Cheng close in his life.
Hua Cheng’s face breaks out into the most radiant of smiles, that Xie Lian this time really is forced to look away. “Of course, gege. I’ll have a section just for you. Labeled “Gege’s Interests” in big bold letters.” He laughs.
“San Lang~” Xie Lian grumbles and hides his blushing face in his hands. “Don’t tease me like that.”
Hua Cheng’s voice is quieter when he speaks. “I’m not teasing, gege. I mean it. You’ll always be more than welcome.”
Xie Lian glances up. “It’s the countryside, San Lang. What would you be doing opening a bookstore in the countryside?” His heart beats incessantly inside his ribcage, and he finds himself holding his breath as he waits for Hua Cheng’s response.
“I’m sure there are plenty of people in the countryside that enjoy reading,” Hua Cheng says quietly, “like you, for example.”
Xie Lian exhales slowly. His breath comes out more shaky than he’d prefer, and he hopes Hua Cheng doesn’t notice.
He’s just about to respond when the auntie comes back to their table. “Aiyah, you need to eat more!” She exclaims when she notices Xie Lian’s bowl is still mostly untouched. “You have to eat every noodle to ensure you have a long and healthy life. Another year of success.”
Hua Cheng’s eyes widen. “It’s your birthday, gege?”
Xie Lian laughs awkwardly. “Yes…auntie how did you know?”
She swats his shoulder. “Remember a few months ago when you forgot your bag here? It had your wallet!” She reminds him.
It had been another one of those unlucky moments in Xie Lian’s life, of which he hadn’t thought much about until then.
Hua Cheng is staring at Xie Lian with mouth slightly agape.
Xie Lian hurries to change the subject. “I’m a bit full, to be honest,” he laughs awkwardly, “maybe I can take it to go?”
She shakes her head. “The noodles will be soggy.”
“Ah yes, that would be bad…”
“At least eat the noodles, gege,” Hua Cheng interjects. His voice is slightly strained, but he smiles at Xie Lian nevertheless.
Xie Lian coughs, “I will I will.”
When she leaves them alone again, their glasses of green tea newly replenished, the silence between them is awkward.
Hua Cheng is the first to break it. “I didn’t know it was your birthday today, gege.”
“Sorry, I didn’t think it was important to say.” He’s not quite sure why he suddenly feels a bit guilty. Hua Cheng is looking at him with a pained expression, and all Xie Lian wants to do is smooth away the furrow of Hua Cheng’s brow.
Hua Cheng sighs. “Sorry. Of course you don’t have to tell me if you’d prefer not to share, gege. I don’t mean to pry.”
“No,” Xie Lian rushes to clarify, “it’s not because I don’t feel comfortable sharing. It’s just…my birthday hasn’t really been anything worth celebrating in a long time. Sometimes even I forget about it. I didn’t think it was something worth sharing.” He says the last bit more quietly.
Hua Cheng leans over the table and, to both of their surprise, gently touches Xie Lian’s hand. His fingers are somehow cool against Xie Lian’s own. It catches Xie Lian, and maybe even Hua Cheng, off guard, but he keeps his hand there, frozen in place.
“Gege,” Hua Cheng says sternly, “you may not think it important, but to some the fact that you were born is itself something to rejoice.”
There’s a sudden prickle of hot tears at the corners of Xie Lian’s eyes, and he finds himself staring down at Hua Cheng’s hand. His elegant fingers squeeze Xie Lian’s own, with a gentle reassurance.
“Thank you, San Lang.” Xie Lian finally says. He thinks Hua Cheng understands that Xie Lian’s gratitude extends to far more than what was just said.
Dinner goes by less awkwardly after that. Though Xie Lian finds himself grasping Hua Cheng’s hand for the majority of it. It should be inappropriate how blatantly obvious Xie Lian is being. How clearly reluctant he is to let go of Hua Cheng’s hand.
Hua Cheng, however, seems equally so.
By the time Xie Lian has finished off the last of the noodles, the street lamps have finally been turned on, and a faint wash of dark blue covers the evening skies.
The bill is brought to their table and when Xie Lian reaches for his wallet he realizes, much to his dismay, that he left his apartment without it. He frowns, mortified. But Hua Cheng only chuckles triumphantly when he hands the auntie cash for both of their meals.
“San Lang, I’m so sorry.” Xie Lian says for the tenth time.
Hua Cheng waves his hand. “Gege, stop apologizing. This is my chance to treat you to a birthday meal. Though next time I’ll have proper time to plan.”
Next time, Xie Lian thinks, again. Hua Cheng has a way, whether he knows it or not, of kindling a hope Xie Lian hadn’t yet realized he’d been nurturing.
They walk back into the humid street and, once more reluctant to part, they linger outside the restaurant.
“Thank you for dinner, San Lang.” Xie Lian bows his head. “Even if it was technically not a choice.”
Hua Cheng’s lips curl into a smile. Xie Lian thought he’d seen Hua Cheng smile and look carefree before, but this Hua Cheng is different. There’s a fondness he doesn’t often reveal when they’re in the office. Now, under the warm glow of the street lamp, Xie Lian sees it plain as day.
“It’s my pleasure, gege.”
“Well…” Xie Lian, unable to come up with another excuse to keep him there any longer, finally points in the direction of his apartment. “I should probably go.” He winces at how forlorn his voice sounds to him.
“Actually, gege…” Hua Cheng hesitates.
“Hm?” Xie Lian’s heart stammers.
Hua Cheng steps closer to him. The warmth of his body makes Xie Lian cognizant of the fact that they’ve never stood this close before. Hua Cheng grabs Xie Lian’s hand. “When I was a teenager I worked for a bit as a plumber. Fixing leaks and broken faucets. Maybe I can help fix yours?”
It’s a question with another, very different, one hidden beneath it. “That would be really nice of you, San Lang.” Xie Lian grabs Hua Cheng’s hand. “If you’re not too busy…”
Hua Cheng entwines their fingers. “For you, I’m always free.”
Hua Cheng really was bad for Xie Lian’s poor heart.
If Hua Cheng stays long after the sink has been fixed, neither particularly care to point it out. And it comes as no surprise to most when, one year later, both Xie Lian and Hua Cheng quit on the same day, and walk out of the building hand in hand. A new lease in the countryside awaiting their arrival.