It works.
If Yue Fei’s goal is to calm him down, it works, if his goal is to distract him, it works, if his goal is to make his heart turn sweet and fast, like a hummingbird drunk on nectar, it works. Everything about his hand and their interlocked fingers works, so well that Wei Qing wishes for a power surge, an earthquake–
Something to trap them in this space and this moment, for hours, forever, just with one another.
(The oblivious workers up front would like to express their opposition!)
The heavens favor the oppressed; no matter how fervently he wishes, they safely arrive at the top floor.
The ride is smooth as ever with not even a shake of the cab to jostle them together. Wei Qing sighs almost imperceptibly as the doors open and Yue Fei’s hand withdraws– but the smile Wei Qing sends him is blinding. After all, it’s a treat with a taste that lingers, no matter how quickly it melts on his tongue.
Wei Qing is not the only one affected– as Yue Fei waits for everyone else to exit, very respectfully, only he and Wei Qing know that at least part of the decorum is to give his ears the chance to halt their reddening. Very cute, this rare flavor of shyness on Yue Fei.
Wei Qing is able to enter that cursed, complicated office with something approaching confidence, thanks to the man walking two steps behind him, and the aegis of small workers preceding him into the presentation. It’s a strange belonging, but he’ll take it. Not like he has that many offers, and at least this belonging comes with the benefit of customizable surveillance robots.
And they’re awfully cute now. Li Diayu took the little hats and googly eyes off them out of respect for the President’s office, but Wei Qing has already fully anthropomorphized them. They have names, personalities, rivalries and storylines that involve the ups and downs of the Dyson family. With his latest video game finished last week, he’s fallen into lore-building in the real world.
The robots never had a chance at avoiding complex arcs and dogblood family trees.
—
The presentation goes even better than before.
Wei Qiwan invites them into his office, and lets Li Daiyu and the rest distribute their lagan around the room. Confirms with his own eyes how quickly they can be deployed, how easy they are to overlook, and that there’s no special trickery or salting of the mine behind their presentation. (This is why this beta presentation had been scheduled for here, instead of on their own floor. In this casino, they’d show the gambler that they were breaking open a fresh deck of cards). Wei Qiwan seems to approve? He even takes notes as the power is cut and the far more professional prototypes whir to life in ways both obvious and inconspicuous. Ms. Li and co. take this as a gesture of respect; Wei Qing fears it is the start of a trap that no one else can sense the jaws of.
But all he can do is wait and hope against it.
Li Daiyu and Zhou Zitan set the little platoon of robots into three different configurations while Zhao Zongrong and Wang Peihong project costs and profits and the collated results of poor Research Assistant Wu’s many, many hours of phone calls and emailed interviews. Receptionist Xiao takes diligent notes on all of it, even color-coding them as she goes. Wei Qing wonders if they’re wasting her talents, caging in her artistic soul behind their main phone and in the depths of the copier’s bowels.
Forty-five minutes in, the practical demonstrations end and they take a break; ten minutes later, they reconvene and spend almost an hour going through the report lovingly put together by the whole team, like a family that had just this one child to pin all their hopes on.
The parallels make Wei Qing’s stomach churn, and behind his politely reassuring smile, he waits for his brother to humiliate him. Waits, washes his hands and drinks water during their intermission, waits some more. But while there are plenty of questions and suggestions, it’s all perfectly on point. Perfectly professional.
Wei Qiwan gives them his honest thoughts, aloof and distant as any CEO, but that’s all.
There’s no poisonous aftertaste. No sense that he wants them to suffer. Even to the end, there’s no snark.
“Thank you for your time. It’s a promising start; I’ll have the accounting and personnel coordinate with Vice President Wei and Manager Wang about what should be allocated and at what level. I see no reason why we can’t have a soft launch within the year.”
He sounds almost warm. What? Wei Qing can’t look at him at all. He just counts the rings in the wood of that massive desk of his, while Research Assistant Wu collects the scattered demos around the room and neatly packs them back in their boxes.
“Vice President Wei, stay back for a few moments?”
Ah, here it is. Wei Qing nods, the tension loosening now that he can see the sword. He even feels a little grateful that his brother is willing to wait for his subordinates to leave before upbraiding him. He waves them off. Softens, when Yue Fei stays put, as if the dismissal of the CEO doesn’t matter at all, as if only Wei Qing’s orders matter. It warms Wei Qing’s heart.
He whispers to Yue Fei that it’ll be fine, and he can wait for him outside, he’s not so fragile.
(He absolutely is).
But Yue Fei’s blunt words have worked; Wei Qiwan has no intention of harming him. Quite the opposite, in fact. Wei Qing looks up when he hears the sound of a blender whirring to life– thirty seconds later, Wei Qiwan places a smoothie on the coaster in front of him.
It’s… durian?
“You requested we share it as a smoothie, but it would have gone bad before now. Hopefully being blended, frozen, and blended again will have a similar enough effect to meet didi’s requirements.”
Wei Qing blinks up, confused enough that he’s well-behaved as he sips from the oversized straw. He blames brain freeze for how long it takes him to realize that Wei Qiwan is good-naturedly referencing his earlier gift and (sarcastic) note about brotherhood.
Yes. Good-naturedly.
Wei Qing wonders if Wei Qiwan also died only to be reborn and is having regrets, or something. But no– he remembers being a little kid, toddling after his parents to watch his da-ge acting in Hamlet for some weird university English course (looking back, what was Wei Qiwan doing there?). Whatever he was doing, it wasn’t acting. He was truly terrible at it, all stiffly delivered lines and puppet-like body language.
If he had been reborn, he’d definitely expose it immediately. So what was this?
Wei Qing considers his brother, thinking he is being very stealthy. Poisoning? Maybe?
—
Actually, he is breaking Wei Qiwan’s heart.
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.
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But actions become habits, and eventually, his own disgust with Wei Qing’s (un)private life and his false indifference had morphed into something instinctive that even he had lost control of. What was real and what was fake blended together. And now his once-brilliant little brother looked overcome by a joke smoothie.
Wei Qiwan slides over a few tic tacs, adding them to the sweets that he’s very awkwardly using to apologize, instead of his words. He and Wei Qing both have this weakness, this difficulty in admitting wrongs, or speaking first.
They sit in silence, sipping durian smoothies and not making eye contact.
At no point does either speak, although at various points during the twenty-minute drink-off, each opens their mouth before thinking better of it and returning to their straws. They’re hopeless and ridiculous– two handsome Mr. Perfects in expensive suits, holding their cups like shy little schoolchildren on a playdate arranged by their parents.
Both finish and the awkwardness of the silence becomes unbearable.
“So, what do-” “Wei Qing, I-”
Their words overlap and become unintelligible. Wei Qing motions for Wei Qiwan to continue, but he’s lost his nerve. Wei Qiwan just clenches his fists under the desk, pink crescents blossoming across his palms as he wonders when even a shared snack became such a heavy thing between them.
But of course he knows.
So he nods his head, in approval and dismissal. Only when Wei Qing is almost out the door does he finally find a little bit of that lost courage, softly calling out, “Wei Qing, you did very well.”
—
Very well.
Wei Qing is in a contemplative mood for the rest of the day, though he rouses himself long enough to share in his team’s joy and even take them out for beer and barbecue, though he makes only a token display of drinking. But unlike those hangers-on he surrounded himself with before, this group doesn’t see anything wrong with that; not even once is he teased or called a pussy. Instead, the R&D group is just honored that their untouchable and charming boss is willing to eat and drink with them at all, a single cup is treated as a bond.
Many toasts are made, with light beer and clean water, under the indulgent eyes of Yue Fei. He even joins in, clinking his water glass against Wei Qing’s one bottle of beer.
Receptionist Xiao has so many ideas for new couple’s outfits for A’Wei and A’Yue, after watching a whole meal of this! They can do a whole hot-glue table of dishes and little chopsticks held in their non-existent cactus hands! Everything seems soft and warm and filtered, like all the ugliness of the world can be kept away by this easy camaraderie.
By the time they leave at 8:30, Wei Qing is convinced that he’s having some kind of stroke, and this is his brain taking mercy and giving him a nice set of hallucinations while he lays in a vegetative state, or something. Given how he died last time, he’s not exactly complaining.
—
“The presentation seems to have gone well.”
“Mmm, yeah… Like, suspiciously well, right?”
Traffic is unexpectedly dreadful, thanks to a three-car wreck that managed to pull in a bus and extend rush hour well past its normal bounds. The multi-block parking lot leaves Yue Fei and Wei Qing with little to do but talk, the radio more white noise beneath them than any legitimate source of entertainment or news.
Wei Qing pulls for a character on his phone and sighs when he gets more three-star trash instead of the rare boy he’s been hoping for. Despite being a whale, his luck isn’t worth talking about. Even in this little hallucination, he doesn’t have a golden finger when it comes to his gacha obsession, more’s the pity. Yue Fei flicks his eyes and takes in the sight of Wei Qing pouting; misinterprets.
Frowns.
“Did Wei Qiwan say something-?”
“Huh? No- I mean, maybe? Not really-” Wei Qing blushes and strips his tie off early, popping the top two buttons of his collar like he’s having an allergic reaction. His voice is soft like he’s not sure he wants Yue Fei to hear, as he spits out, “Said I did very well.”
Wei Qing feels like an imposter, but Yue Fei just smiles softly where he can’t see. Nods his head like they’re the kind of normal family where such praise is expected instead of a bolt from the blue. “Good. See? Even your brother can admit how impressive you’ve been.”
Even your brother…
Wei Qing wishes.
“I wouldn’t go that far. More likely, he just sees enough profit to overcome his disgust.” Wei Qing sighs and reloads his account so that he can once more be bitch-slapped by the random number generator that is keeping his 2D waifus from him.
Yue Fei twists his body to look at his passenger more fully. He sends him a soft look, something warm and reassuring like their entwined fingers had been. He doesn’t let it drop, this small amount of progress, this crack that a vine of hope might yet spread out from.
“No, I think he’s really proud of you.” Yue Fei shakes his head. “You’re used to seeing your brother as some larger-than-life titan, but he’s just a person. He can screw up, badly even, and that doesn’t mean it’s who he’ll be forever. You changed, so why can’t he?”
He sees the panic in Wei Qing’s eyes and clarifies. Yue Fei’s even nice enough to not roll his eyes.
“Wei Qing. I’m not being won over to his side, or whatever messy thing you’re thinking. I just think you should consider what it would look like if you weren’t at war with one another. If you- ah, take it as a defeat then. What would it look like, if you defeated him? If he was nice again.”
What would it look like?! What… what would it?
Would they get lunch together? Be able to get through the New Year without him being high out of his mind, barely keeping it together in front of their parents, Yue Fei covering for his lapses and keeping his mom too busy to notice his blown-out pupils? Would they- would there be more nice words, more smoothies, more soft moments? Could work be fun again? Could they go to gallery openings and the symphony and tease one another about futurism, instead of stiffly pose for pictures that were as inauthentic as their smiles? Could a second chance at life really mean a second chance at brotherhood?
And if it does– can he get over his own damage, enough to forgive him? Can he overcome that much abandonment? Does he… even still want to be Wei Qiwan’s brother? To crack open his shoddy piecemeal armor, knowing he might get stabbed again?
He doesn’t have an answer.
He’s not sure there is one, beyond blindly groping forward and seeing what happens.
Wei Qing is so busy thinking that he doesn’t even notice when he finally pulls the character that he’s spent tens of thousands failing to win. He doesn’t see the limited edition fireworks display or hear the cute tagline by the new voice actor that he was so pumped up over when this banner was released. Totally misses it as his priorities shift.
What-
What would it be like to have a brother again?
—
Wei Qing is so caught up in the tilt-a-whirl of success and softness, of having employees who don’t despise him and a brother who seems to be off his meds, that it’s a full night’s sleep before he remembers the other earth-shaking part of the day before:
When Yue Fei had held his hand, all the way from floor nineteen to twenty eight.
HOW DID HE FORGET THAT? Is this the brain damage that Dr. Li always warned against?!
Yue Fei held his hand. That- that definitely happened. And it wasn’t even to pull him out of the way of a speeding car or take his pulse or any other ridiculousness. Wei Qing had wished Wei Securities was a little more grand; imagine how great it would be, to be connected all the way up a skyscraper instead!
But what had it meant?
Was it just another version of cuddling him to sleep, when he lost control? Or was Yue Fei starting to thaw, starting to be able to see a future with this new, less embarrassing version of him? Is it narcissism or context clues, that makes him think that it’s the latter?
After all, Yue Fei is many things, but Wei Qing doesn’t believe he’d lead him on, nor does he think his male god is dumb enough to hold his hand and say such sweet things without taking into account those brief kisses and the feelings that Wei Qing had already declared to him.
Holy shit.
From dying alone and miserable, without even his fucking clothes to comfort him, to this? Cutting out everyone from his past, yet somehow getting past loneliness? Even earning the fight to maybe have a brother and a lover in the bargain? Was this the reason he’d been given a second chance?
Could the heavens possibly love him after all?
And what the fuck does it say about the past him, if it is really this easy to get everything he wants, with just a few behavioral modifications? Wei Qing feels like a student who got a zero on a test while trying his best, only to try again, answering randomly, and get a one hundred. It’s wonderful and bitter, all rolled up in inexplicable success.
It doesn’t make sense, but how else can he interpret this?
He tried so hard, only to be disdained. He made himself a miserable caricature, only to be abandoned. And now, when all he wants to do is tie one person to his side, everything that he’d been willing to toss aside is rushing at him; family, success, even his fucking cursed paramour from his last trip ‘round the sun has appeared ahead of schedule.
What the fuck, universe? He’s grateful, mostly, but what the fuck?
Is there a bug being worked out somewhere in the system?
He always knew that Yue Fei had good taste and better morals, but the idea that catering to him is enough to cow the rest of the world is still a lot to take in. He wonders if this is what it means, to grab the thigh of a proud Son of Heaven. Sure, usually it’s the rich second-generation with that title, but read the room! Who would believe he’s more favored than Yue Fei, looking at their failings?
Still thinking irreverent things, Wei Qing checks the temperature and trades his normal at-home athleisure for soft-touch black pants and an oversized knit sweater in inviting robin’s egg, trying to look at least a little put together, in honor of everyone around him suddenly growing up. He needs to keep up appearances and all.
Also, he wants-
He adjusts in the mirror, so a bit of clavicle peeks out from the collar of the too-expensive clothing. He wants to see if Yue Fei notices. If Yue Fei, just maybe, is willing to start considering them something other than employer and employee. Sweats hadn’t done it, suits hadn’t done it, maybe the trick was influencer-worthy ‘try-hard-to-make-it-look-effortless’ threads. It’s a dumb idea, but why not give it a go. He gives himself a last look before brushing his teeth a second time and tossing a watery smile to the innocent him reflected in the frameless mirror above the sink.
Well, he’d fuck himself.
Then again, his track record didn’t exactly scream ‘discerning.’
—
Leg almost completely healed and their lives about to get significantly more busy, Wei Qing proposes a trip to the modern art museum. The Ai Institute has a small gallery named after their family thanks to some sarcastic corporate sponsorship, yet Wei Qing had never bothered to show up after that first gala almost two years ago when he’d appeared just to rub his brother’s face in the fact that he was spending without creating.
Being a shithead is being a shithead, but there are worse ways to make a point than charitable giving.
Plus, he’d always thought things like this made good dates, and he is timidly trying to boil this frog. With the frog’s consent. If he can get it. Metaphors are dumb.
Fuck, he hasn’t been on a real date in almost three years. Embarrassing!
And exciting enough to make him want to vibrate with the possibilities, especially when Yue Fei softly readjusts his collar, tucking him back in like only he has the right to see his bones and that white expanse of skin.
Wei Qing’s had entire bouts of sex that were less intimate than that little wardrobe correction.
Museums are really god’s gift.
—
Yue Fei is pretty sure this is a date.
Wei Qing is taking him on a date.
Yue Fei has never been on a date before.
Where he grew up, love between only two people was seen as unhealthy and unkind. Even in families and between new lovers, it was expected to share all events with the community. Even sex itself rarely involved only two individuals, and never involved privacy. The house he grew up in didn’t even have doors other than the one on the exterior.
And when he fled at fifteen?
Frankly, the last thing he wanted was to break away from his newfound ability to have things like private time and private thoughts and private fucking property. The ability to be alone was a precious gift, and even the typical hormones of a teen boy were not enough to make him invite anyone else, no matter how pretty, into his newly built sanctuary of stillness.
Between masturbation, mood stabilizers, and mandatory talk therapy, he had all his social needs met without dating, thanks.
And then-
By the time he got well enough, he fell into the eyes of Wei Senior, who was looking for a very specific type of long-term helper for his youngest son. The kind of life-and-death subordinate that had once been part of the fabric of their country, before the world modernized and such bonds became brittle with age. Yue Fei had been introduced to the kid, offered a four-year contract that matched his personality perfectly, and agreed.
It’s not like he had any grand plans, after all. Helping out someone as brilliant and cherished as Wei Qing was an appealing form of not-quite intimacy, the exact kind of long-term bond that Yue Fei could ease into without being scared off. Being an outsider bathed in the light of someone else’s normalcy was exactly what he needed. He wanted to understand what parents and a brother and a future felt like, by observing it.
And then– Then he’d become overly enmeshed, things had gone badly, and he’d spent enough time cleaning up after messy affairs that he felt he was back on that commune again, watching the man who was probably his father playing around with girls barely older than he was.
Not exactly something that encouraged him to get out there and find a love of his own.
So yeah, he’d never been on a date before. Never even tagged along, since (at the time) he’d trusted Gao Zhong, and after that man, Wei Qing had never bothered to properly date at all.
Until him.
Yue Fei smiles gently at the ticket-seller, turning the poor girl into a blushing mess that tears the passes twice before managing to get two intact VIP badges to them. A date. He and Wei Qing are dating, then? Or does he have to ask, is this a test run?
He should research this when they get home.
But for now, it’s enough to just enjoy it.
He is important enough, and Wei Qing is serious enough, to take him on a date. Yue Fei’s never been one for art, modern or otherwise, but he can’t help but think the pieces are especially lovely, as Wei Qing nonchalantly walks him through the vibrant building, nervously reading out plaques and descriptions like he’s his own very special tour guide. Trying so very hard to not look like he’s trying, but his bright eyes and too-quick responses give away just how much effort he’s making.
Warm. Very warm.
They see explosions of color and monochromatic wastelands, mobiles that cast artistic shadows on the wall and videos on loop that chastise the government while officially only presenting a recipe for soup. They sip bottled water and discover who they like and who they don’t understand. There’s plenty of art in both categories, though they skip the performance art theater to save their eyes and ears and noses. All the while, they stay close.
At the end of the building and wrapping around the black glazed brick side studio is a small sculpture garden, where the organic beauty of flowers and grasses and river stones stands in contrast to the artwork bolted down on either side of the winding paths. Iron and silver and chrome and cement, wrapped into shapes that tower and lean, precarious-looking yet secure.
It’s narrow enough that Wei Qing’s hand keeps brushing against Yue Fei’s, accidentally on purpose.
Yue Fei smiles and captures that nervous palm. Holds it safe in his. Doesn’t mention the contact as they walk on, but rubs slow circles with his thumb against the back of Wei Qing’s hand. If this is dating–
He can see the appeal. It’s more charming than he imagined. Even if it’s dangerous, even if it’s better to wait, to give Wei Qing more time to come to his senses and realize how boring the safety he offers is…
He likes it. He likes him.
More than is wise, more than he should– more than he can hide, especially if Wei Qing keeps being so perfect. But maybe it’s not so bad, to give in, and risk it. After all, he’d done what he thought was best in his last life, and all it had gotten him was a decade of pain and the three of them dead.
Maybe taking risks makes sense. Maybe it’s okay to want this.
It certainly feels that way, as the chill of the afternoon is banished by the warmth of Wei Qing’s hand in his. He’s not sure anything has ever felt more right than this.
Author’s Corner:
Durian smoothies are an… experience. Wei Qing’s next gift to Wei Qiwan should probably be a chalkboard that says ‘Number of days without being an ass.’
All the little things that Yue Fei is getting to experience for the first time, while Wei Qing swans around, not realizing how impressive he already is…
Aaaah. Thanks for the chapter!
Also, I misread R&D as D&D and now I want the team to play Dungeons and Dragons together
Wei Qing might have fun being a DM, he can put all his worldbuilding and dramatics into creating a campaign. If he doesn’t DM, I feel like he’d play a sorcerer or something involving magic, and Yue Fei would be a paladin sworn to protect him. Li Daiyu would play an artificer, of course. Receptionist Xiao would be a bard. Research Assistant Wu would be forced to play a cleric because no one else on the team wants to be a healer.
+1 I want the team to play D&D together
I… also want this now….?Well, if nothing else, we know we’ll have at least one extra arc!
YESSS PLEASE!!! 🙏🙏🙏 this is all I desire in life now
Their date is perfect and all, but the durian smoothie tho… 😅🤣🤣 If I ever get to experience THAT I’d really forget even my first kiss with my crush lol
Author-san, your humor is superb as always 👍 thanks for the update~💕
This was such an exciting chapter! While the brothers were busy not talking, I was contemplating whether one of the security bots with googly eyes and a stuffy sweater vest would make the president seem less lonely.
Xqky rcqnbfiqldbhrr
They are so damn preciousssssssssss
I feel like I’m malfunctioning, this is so adorable, I bet something will happen soon and I’m not ready for that T-T
A tears fell but it was tear of joy this time 🥲
Thank you for the update ❤️💯
So. Cute. So. Precious.
I want a date like that xD even just the garden seems so good ~
Thank you for bringing that chapter into my life 😊
Duurian sure is something i would gift if i wouldn’t want someone to know my intentions
Also, this is the first time I’m commenting on this because I had to dig out my login data, but your writing is delightful and so much fun! (Except for when it hurts, bc then I just suffer happily and shake my fist at “the cruel author”, you know how it goes)
Now I totally understand why YF was so against owning up to his feelings and was terrified of having sexual fantasies towards WQ. Living in such a place clearly fucked up his idea of what love is, and made him probably believe that sex is nothing more then filling desire and lust rather then actually caring and having feelings for the other person involved.