They make it through two months of gloriously boring existence before the first great test comes. No, it’s not some once-loved starlet accusing him of fathering a bastard (the benefits of being a gold star gay man) or a hostile company takeover or the Emperor wanting him for his body and not his talents.
(Yue Fei would like to take this opportunity to express that Wei Qing should watch fewer palace dramas and focus more on business).
Instead, the approaching calamity is… A perfectly nice, boring company event. Not even something high-stakes and potentially dangerous, like a shareholder’s meeting or important board vote; it’s just a goddamn yearly banquet. Practically a holiday party. Employee appreciation, and all that. And that’s the problem.
Wei Qing has not been sober, or well-behaved, at one of these since the prospectus incident.
And his bad behavior is so eye-catching that it is now expected– there are even bets in the group chats of the various departments, about who (or how many whos) he will bring as a date, how much he will drink, and whether or not he’ll get caught being blown in a stairwell instead of listening to his brother’s speech– again. Basically, he’s the free entertainment.
And thinking back on his past behavior… really, really makes Wei Qing want to get a head start on the drinking. Ev en putting aside him trying to get up the courage to chase Yue Fei properly and this being the worst thing for his resolve…
He doesn’t like the person he was then, and he certainly doesn’t want to be reminded of it.
Having fun is having fun, but looking back, was it really fun he was having? He doesn’t think so. People don’t numb themselves to that extent when enjoying it. He thinks… those fleeting connections, those anonymous hands and mouths and false words of sweetness falling around him were just velvet wrapped around barbed wire, just enough for him to not struggle as he lost more and more blood. A new and extra-flashy form of auto-erotic asphyxiation, slow enough to go on for years before it finally ended.
He thinks he probably hated himself a lot.
This self-awareness and the upcoming gala wreath him in a persistent melancholic miasma. There’s an entire week where he doesn’t play or read or plan pranks, just listlessly thumbs past pages he doesn’t process and swipes through articles and gacha games on his phone that he doesn’t care to notice the results of.
Since his rebirth, it’s the first time he’s been like this.
—
Yue Fei is very concerned. But (believe it or not) he was not hired as Wei Qing’s assistant all those years ago just for his face, or his ability to cook. He’s smart enough to put two and two together and to understand the stress and doubt that such an event might place on a newly ‘sober’ Wei Qing. Problem drinkers avoid bars, but Wei Qing cannot forever avoid socializing. But he’s not alone. Yue Fei is here to support him in his sobriety, even if it’s less about booze and more about bed partners.
So he doesn’t comment, doesn’t coddle, and doesn’t scold.
He just perfectly organizes Wei Qing’s life, cooks his favorite foods, and gives him the time and space needed to work through what such a night might look like, absent dishonest hands creeping into his pockets and illegal substances thrumming through those pretty veins of his.
Yue Fei makes the tactical decision not to order Wei Qing a new suit. One, it is a little late, even with their dedicated tailor on standby to make it happen through a …liberal… reading of labor laws. Two… Wei Qing will already be the source of much speculation. After all, so far, there are only a dozen people in the company vouching for his new and improved character (the seven in their department, the front desk staff that finally sees him with regularity, and the bathroom attendants that he’d somehow become friends with).
An older (but perfectly cut and styled) suit will allow Wei Qing to act like he’s forgotten all about the party, if he so desires. Will allow him to excuse his lack of date as a natural consequence of not planning to come, if he wishes it. Good plans come with built-in excuses.
Although… Will he be dateless? Yue Fei stops, and realizes he’s making assumptions. He’d just taken it as a matter of course, but that is a dangerous habit to develop, given Wei Qing’s remarkably unique brain circuits.
Yue Fei’s tone is light, but his eyes can cut sea-ice when he asks, “Do we need to arrange anything for Master Wei’s date?”
He’s not sure what he will do if Wei Qing says yes, and that scares him.
“Date? What date?! Please tell me you didn’t- I’m absolutely not going with any of them!” Wei Qing takes a break from doing his best impression of a consumptive Victorian beauty to fall off the couch in fear and indignation.
We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
Yue Fei’s eyes soften. Good boy. “No date then.”
—
When the Wei patriarch started Wei Securities, it was just a college side gig for his weightlifting pals. Things expanded quickly; it turned out that lots of people wanted bodyguards and temporary security that wasn’t tied to the gray market or organized crime. Imagine that, decent people.
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That discretion and careful growth had turned a sidehall to a storefront to a twenty-eight-floor building, with a dedicated event space on the second floor and in the mezzanine that overlooked it. That’s where this gala would be, a night of ‘celebrating our workers and our success’ on the occasion of the fifty-first anniversary of the company.
Wei Qing had been blackout drunk for the larger, more important fiftieth anniversary last year. These things being held in the building that he’d grown up running around in meant that he was able to get tragically wasted and still wind up wherever he wanted to go.
Well, with one exception.
There was always a point in the night where he wanted to fuck someone on his brother’s desk. And that was always the point at which Yue Fei would convince or trick him out of the party and back home instead. Looking back, it’s no wonder Yue Fei had left. Handling him must have been exhausting.
But not anymore!
Okay, so he still kind of itches to try it, but… that’s what dreams are for. He certainly won’t be making any attempts this year.
As he fidgets with his iridescent teal tie in the back of the car, he counts to fifty and tells himself that he can do this. Ignore his brother, ignore his need to act out, ignore his Pavlovian compulsion to embarrass Qiwan by embarrassing himself. Ignore everything but his small, ridiculous cadre of seven employees and the assistant that he spent most of his time wanting to lick the boots of.
That’s a perfectly permissible way to spend a night, no?
Super well-adjusted.
He and Qiwan can take the stupid fucking ‘everything is fine and we love each other selfie to send to their mom, and then he can just do his best to eat and give away all the parts of the catering that Wei Qiwan and his picky fucking tastebuds actually like, while subtly cockblocking him anytime someone tries to introduce a nice daughter.
Not that he’s fixated and petty or anything, but it’s a decent way to spend an evening.
Who knows, it might even be fun?
Might be fun, might be fun- Wei Qing hypnotizes himself out of the parking garage and through the lobby and up the rarely-used fancy marble steps to the second floor. (Normally, they’re roped off, fall insurance is a bitch and grip-tape can’t overcome unscuffed Louboutins). So many people– and they’re all looking at him, yeah?
Just when the hypnosis starts to fail, he feels Yue Fei’s warm palm pressing against his back, encouraging him to keep going.
Right. He can do this. Even absent the bolster of drink and drugs and dates, he’s not alone.
He can definitely, probably get through this without embarrassing himself and showing discomfort or loss when all he wants to present is defiant indifference. Even sober, he can treat this as a joke instead of a reminder of his own stabbing inadequacy. Probably.
He’s probably gotten at least a little stronger?
—
Yue Fei orbits Wei Qing like a satellite for the hors d’oeuvre portion of the pre-gala mixing. They make quite the pair– a monochromatic and almost robotic guardian circling a shimmering dragonfly that is as eye-catchingly fragile as he is inviting. The invitation is a lie, of course: Anytime someone who’s heard the rumors approaches and tries to take advantage, they discover their prey is oddly sober, and his assistant is deeply unimpressed with their antics. The guy even whips out a fucking notebook, clearly taking down their information to later blacklist them with! Inhumane!
It’s not like what the rumors say at all! Even if he isn’t interested, isn’t Young Master Wei famous for at least flirting and tossing his number to everyone who tries at these things, just in case they ‘get hot later?’
And isn’t his assistant just the guy who keeps him from death in between lays and cleans up after his antics and sends gift baskets to their homes? Last year, everyone who spent the night got limited edition headphones! So why are things at this party so different?! More than one tipsy young man goes home questioning his own hotness as a result of this two-man play.
(Wei Qing is sure they’ll recover).
An hour in, and the big man himself descends.
Wearing the same goddamn suit as Wei Qing. Sure, the ties are different, but the rest of it-
Wei Qing shoots a glass of sparkling water and pretends it’s vodka. He’s going to do it, he’s going to punch his tailor. How does this even happen, with bespoke clothing? And since Wei Qing arrived on time for once, and has already made three laps of the mezzanine while hunting the yuzu and ceviche canapes before a certain someone has a chance to enjoy them–
There’s no escape.
If he leaves, everyone will know that he’s bothered, and his very first rule for dealing with Wei Qiwan is to act like he doesn’t care for (or respect) him at all. Can’t do that if you’re fleeing because of a wardrobe malfunction that makes it look like you’re still off to church with your parents on Easter. There’s nothing for it. All Wei Qing can do is square his shoulders, plaster on a fake smile, and languidly walk towards his tragically besuited brother.
He pulls him into a hug (ugh), claps his back (kill me), and squeezes hard enough that he hopes the man has to go to a chiropractor later. Old shithead.
“Da-ge! We match, how cute, you’re finally willing to take style tips from me?” Wei Qing’s voice is as fake-sweet as aspartame. He’s practically sing-songing. Maybe he missed his calling in musical theater.
But Wei Qiwan just returns his hug (up to and including the bone bruising!) and answers like grown men matching for an event like this is the most normal thing in the world, “Didi. What can I say, it’s a good look. If you can pull it off.”
His tone clearly implies that only one of them can, and it’s not Wei Qing.
See? Shithead. Wei Qing didn’t develop his weird personality out of nowhere. This is not how well-adjusted people handle conflict. And yet, here they were. Smiling and hugging and trading barbs like teenagers who can’t wait to go home and cyberbully each other.
They break apart, and Wei Qing very nearly loses his mind when Wei Qiwan offers him a tic-tac.
His eyelid twitches and everything, as he wordlessly pops the yellow abomination into his mouth. Off to the side, rather than intervening, Yue Fei instead discretely snaps a picture to send to Mother Wei. The face that Young Master is making right now, like he’s choking on a sour lemon but smiling through the bitterness is… really worth preservation.
Maybe he should make a lemon tart this week, as a special dessert.
—
Even through his bitterness, Wei Qing can admit that the effect they present is good, parting the sea of employees as a matching pair. Hard and soft, junior and senior– looking close enough to coordinate their wardrobes, rather than so estranged that this little photo-op has already doubled their time spent together for the year. Yet, with every surprised glance cast their way and every phone pulled out to film this entrance-turned-fashion show, Wei Qiwan nigh imperceptibly shifts farther and farther from him. The calm that Wei Qing has been slowly amassing vanishes in a puff of smoke.
Fucking typical. As if Wei Qing even being in his vicinity, even so well-behaved, will harm the family image.
Wei Qing chooses to be angry, rather than hurt. He grabs two drinks, ready to splash them in Wei Qiwan’s face, publicity be fucking damned-
Yue Fei pulls the waiter back. Stares Wei Qing down, and there’s not disappointment or reproach in his eyes. Just encouragement, to match the mouthed words, ‘Be good.’ Unexpected, and impossible to ignore.
Wei Qing runs his tongue over his teeth and counts to five. Waves away the waiter and instead, because he can’t let this go, even if he wants so badly to be good, he grabs his brother and pulls him closer. Pivots them towards Yue Fei, like this awkward pause is a planned photo-op instead of him being nonverbally talked out of assaulting the CEO.
“Come on, you can smile at least a little for mom.” He speaks through clenched teeth.
Wei Qiwan gives up and smiles, though Wei Qing swears he can hear his teeth grinding as he whispers under his breath, “Isn’t the photo usually right before you run off? Leaving extra-early this time?”
“Maybe I’m making a collage. Got to come up with something for her birthday, right? I bet I can spend the whole party coming up with more shots. Otherwise, won’t they forget what we look like at this rate?”
Wei Qiwan snorts and keeps walking, Wei Qing the annoying tail at his back.
You’re embarrassed of me, right? You don’t want me at the company at all, not as someone who tries, not as someone who doesn’t, but guess what? You aren’t master of the world, and you can’t get everything you want. You want to be estranged? Then you’ll have to rip off that hypocritical mask yourself. See if you can still steal Yue Fei then!
Sure, it’s not mature. But so what?
Fighting fair is a loser’s proposition.
They sit at the head table, all outward-facing smiles and inwardly facing teeth. Wei Qing pours his brother the wine that he knows he hates most of the selections offered; Wei Qiwan buries his brother’s soup in so much parmesan that he can’t even taste the flavors he likes in it. There is a speech, then the presentation of awards– Wei Qing taps his glass and innocently calls for an encore, even though he knows Wei Qiwan can’t have any extra remarks planned.
Hey da-ge, are you still secretly afraid of public speaking? Still have to rehearse all your speeches and answers for weeks ahead of time? My bad if you are, I’m just so eager to hear more from our brilliant leader. I just love you and the sound of your fucking voice so very much.
Only when Wei Qiwan is white-knuckling through an impromptu celebration of the reception staff does Wei Qing consider his job done, and excuse himself to go to the washroom.
He doesn’t notice that he’s being followed.
Author’s Corner:
Wei Qing: Force-feeding Wei Qiwan’s favorite treats to others so he starves through his own event.
Wei Qiwan: …Just wanted yuzu canapes. Has to settle for tic-tacs.
Everyone else: …This is not what I had in mind when I heard ‘Master Wei knows how to play.”
Cannon-fodder: Ah, I bet he’s saving up for later~ This little brother will offer his friendship~
Yue Fei: You made the list. 
Damn cliff… thanks for the chapter 😭
Wei Qing you are such a cute kid.
Just binge read the story so far, I’m loving it so much!! So proud of Wei Qing for doing his best here!
Wei Qiwan retaliating with Parmesan cheese 🤣🤣 is that not a healthy sibling rivalry?
The fact he has eaten everything that his brothers likes that’s dedication xD and Yue Fei’s list and the “be good” damn what a great chapter !
Waouh ! So mean ! Adding Parmesan in the little brother’s soup and serving the worst wine to his big brother. These 2 know to prank each other 😂
Thanks for the chapter!
PS: just a (really little) typo ->hor’ d oeuvres = hors d’œuvres.
Thanks so much for reading, commenting, and finding that! Typo is now fixed and my weak spot for childish pranking can continue unabated! 😅
Ok, both brothers are cute here! They reminded me of this British comedy series Friday Night Dinner, when the younger brother added salt to his brother’s glass of water and the older — on one occasion, threw some toenail-clippings into the younger one’s glass. You know, just normal bros being bros 🤣😅