Yue Fei hadn’t realized how much fear he was holding until it disintegrates.
He’d thought he was wholehearted in his treatment of Wei Qing, but the truth was, as long as there was the unspeakableness of his youth between them, he’d been holding himself back. Keeping a distance, protecting himself and Wei Qing from the blast radius of the kind of life he’d led, and the pain he’d authored.
He knows it still affects them, just like Wei Qing’s fear of abandonment and need for praise does. He wonders if any couple spends as much time as they do, praising one another in the middle of everything from dishes to sex. But he happens to like the sound of Wei Qing’s compliments, and if his little shudders are any indication, Wei Qing feels similarly about his.
Partners support one another, partners don’t mind one another’s quirks. That’s what makes the relationship unique. That’s what keeps others from casually prying up the wall. They’re partners. It’s okay to rely on one another. That’s what Lu-laoshi says.
Well, he used some long and rambling metaphor about original paintings versus mass-produced prints, but that’s the gist of it. Yue Fei’s 85% sure. Based on Wei Qing’s psychobabble across the kitchen counter, it sounds like Dr. Maki has a similar message on his end.
Yue Fei is very eager to cooperate with treatment. Wei Qing is very eager to master making waffles, but he’s keeping his weekly appointments, so Yue Fei feels it’s close enough.
The waffles are still a struggle. But they have all the time in the world.
—
It’s in a haze of love and bliss and rising self-esteem that Wei Qing starts accepting more invitations. He still doesn’t go to those hedonistic places where he suspects he will always see the shadow of his loneliest self against the walls, but he starts mixing back in. Lunches with Fang Yichen and earnest cooperation with the R&D team and more than a few banquets that follow the trend of the Shen family, inviting Wei Qing as a litmus test for a possible future alliance with Wei Qiwan.
Wei Qing’s finding his groove, Wei Qiwan’s finding his not-so-buried misanthropy, and all’s right with the world.
Next up is an artistic endeavor. How cultural. The eldest Long brother married an artist several years ago, and now that their children were old enough, the wife had started painting seriously again. Evidently, part of the eldest Long’s pursuit had been a promise to support her in stretching her wings even after she became family with such a big CEO.
Finally, there’s a follow-up to her sophomore show twelve years earlier– Wei Qing and Wei Qiwan are both invited. Even Yue Fei gets one, with his name on it and everything. A first. Neither man can figure it out, except to say that Wei Qiwan knows the trio of Long siblings, and… Maybe he has friends? Maybe he’s even told his friends about his brother’s first serious boyfriend since college?
Either way, they RSVP yes.
Their first date was at an art museum after all.
And anyway… if Yue Fei still wants dirt on Wei Qiwan to ease the awkwardness of their relationship post-interview, there’s nothing better than watching him stiltedly interact with Young Lady Long. So they expand their love bubble to include a proper society introduction, even getting fitted for couple suits.
It’s nothing as glaring as the kind of black and white set that always makes Wei Qing think about wedding shenanigans, but anyone who looks closely will notice that hidden in the details of the black-on-black jackets, Wei Qing’s pinstripes are actually interspersed with small ‘fei’ characters, and Yue Fei’s matching set has ‘qing’ at equally obnoxious intervals. Nevermind that if anyone happens to get their belts off, they’d discover that the silver buttons on each set of pants happen to be pressed with the other’s seal. Oh, and the lining is wedding-hall red, because Wei Qing is incorrigible and secretly flaunty.
Subtle, and yet somehow so much worse than just wearing inverted colors or fully matching.
Yue Fei runs his fingers over the small stripes and the button, clearly obsessed. So obsessed that when he sees Wei Qing standing there, wearing his chosen name on his body and flashing hints of vermillion, he can’t help but strip him out of it for a lovingly detailed inspection, right there on the floor of the walk-in closet.
Luckily, they’d gotten the suits the day before, in case of alterations. Otherwise, they probably would have missed the entire exhibit. As it is, they’re still so charmed by one another that they manage to arrive fashionably late.
Wei Qing borrows a driver, and Yue Fei gets to step out and hold Wei Qing’s hand, walking in as Wei Qing’s partner from start to end. He can’t help but duck his head and thank him for being the kind of boyfriend that thinks of such things. There’s even a chaste kiss against his temple.
Wei Qing’s always praising him for being thoughtful, but Yue Fei doesn’t think Wei Qing loses out. His love and his name and his care are like armor as they walk into the hall.
—
Wei Qiwan is so eager to stop being pestered that he’s genuinely relieved to see the pair of them, even if he happens to look up at the exact moment that his little brother is looking love-struck while being kissed. Bah, at least it’s not on the mouth. Or somewhere even worse.
As someone who has seen too much, Wei Qiwan can only say his heart is ashes.
He casually puts himself in their flight path and rolls his eyes while not making eye contact with Yue Fei, since his brother is fucking testy when it comes to him, and it’s not clear to Wei Qiwan when the restriction on ‘bothering him’ ends. Naturally, he can’t be normal and just ask.
He treats his brother’s partner like air and forgets how it might look to others.
At least until Wei Qing pulls an ugly face and steals his champagne glass, actions casual but momentum rather forceful.
“What? Get your own?”
“No, if you’re drunk in public, clearly I should be responsible for stopping it!” Wei Qing’s tone of voice is low and pleasant, the voice of those having business disagreements in banquets. It’s a skill that Wei Qiwan taught him, before, and Wei Qiwan accepts the rhythm even as he’s bewildered.
“Why- which of your eyes sees that I’m drunk? That’s my second glass!”
“So if you’re not drunk, you’re just blind?” With the air of dying on this hill, Wei Qing tosses back the rest of Wei Qiwan’s drink in one long swig. Then he very neatly hands the empty flute to Yue Fei and leans in, knocking his head against his elder brother’s and speaking low and quick against his ear.
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.
“Qtja’r sbeg fzmerf obg rceyylcu ws wjc atfc?”
Kmt. Efjiis? Qfl Hlkjc ugjyr jcbatfg uijrr, offilcu nfgs kgbcufv. Valii, atf raeqlv jqq rjsr atja mbwweclmjalbc lr wbra lwqbgajca veglcu rwjii mbcoilmar.
“Cgfc’a P pera vblcu ktja sbe rjlv? Fcgfjrbcjyif!”
Wei Qing looks at him, blatantly disrespectful, and drags ‘his man’ off to go look at big splashes of blue and yellow on the walls. Sure enough, that app…
Jtjgijajcr. Lf’r ublcu ab mbcafra atf mtjgufr.
—
“Qfgf sbe pera vfofcvlcu ws tbcbg?” Tef Mfl vbfrc’a gfjiis ecvfgrajcv wbvfgc jga. Vbwf bo atf qlfmfr jgf qgfaas, rbwf bo atfw jgf euis. C ofk ulnf tlw j offilcu ilxf atf rec rilvlcu bnfg tlr fsfr jr tf jcv Qfl Hlcu ijhf bc atflg yjimbcs, yea atja’r jr mibrf ab fcilutafcwfca jr tf ufar. Pcrafjv, tf wjxfr rwjii ajix klat atf wemt wbgf lcnfrafv Qfl Hlcu. Llr nblmf lr afcvfg.
“En. Isn’t that my job? To protect you?”
Wei Qing’s so taken with a certain canvas that it takes him a moment to evaluate his own words. He must realize the surface silliness of them, given Yue Fei’s actual job. But as lovely as his blush is and as seemingly nonsensical as the words are, he rather likes them.
Wei Qing, protecting him.
“No, it’s very good.” His voice is like calm blue, dripping along a canvas only to be interrupted by a smudge of mischievous yellow. “But what about my desire to protect you?”
“I guess… you can fight me for it. Or if that’s too ridiculous, we can just protect one another.”
“Mmm.” Protecting one another sounds nice. Even if it’s just from small trips against the pavement or elder brothers who are dense enough to be transmigrated black stars. All the better, if it’s just these small things, instead of blood and loss and the kinds of scandals that sell papers. Yue Fei would like a lifetime of such small snags and easy protection. Wei Qing deserves the relaxation and privacy. Maybe he does as well.
In the small corner of the gallery, once-scandalous Young Master Wei stands with clean eyes and the small smile of an art connoisseur, one hand holding a champagne flute and the other holding the hand of the man next to him. He takes in the paintings, and the man… takes in him, with the same kind of quiet reverence.
Unwittingly, in the open-air gallery swarming with the elite and those hoping to hang on, the two of them seem to find their own little world.
The art is actually rather nice, once you take the right approach to appreciating it.
—
Of course, it’s not a real art show without some drama. And since there’s no performance artist to throw up eggs or something, everyone’s left to find their own small melodramas. There’s the scum who shows up with a sugar baby, only to run into the good sisters of the woman he’s ‘dating with the intention of marriage.’ There’s the waiter who is being hunted for sport by a trio of tipsy cougars, and the other waiter who happily takes his place and tries to evolve into a boy toy with questionable success.
There’s big and tall Wei Qiwan, frozen when Long Shouning walks down the stairs, red stilettos clacking like the claws of a dragon. He might even be holding his breath, as if his jiejie’s sight is based on movement and as long as he’s very, very still, he’ll escape the notice of the woman who he came here to see (no matter what he says).
Wei Qing feels he hasn’t shit-stirred enough and loudly calls attention to his brother.
“Lady Long! My brother was just looking for you~” He extends his fingers like a gun and ‘pows!’ all her attention to the inconspicuous corner of the bar that Wei Qiwan had been haunting.
By the looks of things, Wei Qiwan might be having a stroke. Lady Long winks at Wei Qing and… evaluates???… Yue Fei before turning to her prey and slinking over like a heavenly beast.
“Fuck, he’s doomed. Hey, Yue Fei, am I a bad brother?”
Wei Qing asks, but the smile in his voice is too obvious. Their relationship has thawed a lot, but there are still many old hurts. Unresolved, because communication is neither brother’s strong suit. In particular, Wei Qing has rather obviously never gotten over his sense of powerlessness during their estrangement. Which, fair. Wei Qiwan loved him, so they were close. Wei Qiwan disdained him, so he was left in the cold. Now, Wei Qiwan was willing to recognize him again, so he was back to being protected and cared for, no matter how stilted.
But even if it’s what Wei Qing wants, he’s still bitter. Doesn’t like having to go with the flow.
He wants explanations, he wants control, he wants to understand the variables so that he’s not thrown away again. So he can protect himself enough to feel comfortable truly dropping his barriers. If he can’t have that…
Letting Wei Qiwan feel powerless in such an innocent way is really the nicest possible revenge on offer.
If this was one of his palace dramas, he’d probably waste his legs and make him play chess with him endlessly or something. Or exile him forever to the frontier. Or first one and then the other.
Wei Qing moves up, looking for a more passionate gallery to continue the rather psychedelically black-bellied ideas of fake-revenge and courtly intrigue. Luckily, Eldest Young Master Long’s wife didn’t limit herself to a single palette, and there is indeed a nice and bombastic side gallery of reds and purples, wine-dark, on the second floor.
—
Actually, Wei Qiwan is doing better than anyone (himself included) expects.
Mostly because Long Shouning, who has never in her life bowed her head, is being almost gentle with him. Respecting his personal space, speaking softly but smartly on the kinds of topics that everyone else tells Wei Qiwan are too boring for social conversations.
Management strategies, old military memorabilia and documentaries, the care of succulent plants…
Wei Qiwan doesn’t know what medicine his jiejie took today. Or maybe he’s the one that’s been drugged.
She’s obviously the same. A fire engine red dress covers her asymmetrically from her throat to beneath her knees, like one long stroke of paint. On her feet are shoes that cost more than some kids’ school fees, heels as tall as she wants, even though it makes her taller than a good portion of the men around her. Bright eyes and the kind of face that grows more impressive with maturity.
Someone that is completely sure, someone that never even tries to hide.
Yet-
This amazon that had positively run him and his peers around the pole all through middle and high school and even university– there’s a hidden smidge of indulgent softness in her actions and words. She’s still unapologetically a sword, but one that is currently being loving oiled, instead of dripping blood.
Wei Qiwan manages to relax. Unlike those other people, he doesn’t have to worry about her. No matter what, she won’t use what he says to try to fuck his brother, or to make a marriage alliance with him. He doesn’t have to worry about putting forward his best false face, because she already knows some of his family’s biggest secrets, and because he knows very clearly that she won’t ever consider him. It’s very freeing, to be so outclassed that you have no ability to influence the results.
Like being in freefall in an elevator, not having to worry about bracing because only an Act of God can save you from becoming pulp.
It’s a very good night, at least until Long Shouning’s middle brother shows up. Then all of Wei Qiwan’s old grievances bubble up. Assholes with bad advice that don’t know how to disappear– Wei Qiwan’s had just enough wine that he doesn’t see anything wrong with being offended at a blood relative appearing at a Long family event.
Long Shouning clicks her tongue and pulls him into a private lounge.
—
They’re at the top of the gallery, in the section that isn’t attached to Lady Long, when Yue Fei squeezes Wei Qing’s fingers and disengages from yet more modern art.
“I need to go check something.”
“Serious?” Wei Qing moves to go with him, Yue Fei stops him with a smile.
“No, a surprise.”
Ah, and now Wei Qing’s excited. Call it childish, but after spending so long feeling unloved, even that single word is enough to make him antsy with anticipation. Even if the surprise is an ice cream cone, Wei Qing will be excited.
So he nods and pretends to not be as snoopy as they both know him to be and insists that he can walk himself through the last of this floor and the rooftop sculpture garden unaccompanied.
When he actually does it, he has to pause. Right. Rooftop. Yikes.
Luckily, the gallery is only four stories, with a mezzanine that fans outwards from the second floor. The true roof of the gallery is just a water tower hidden by undying plastic boxwoods, and the garden circles the fourth floor. In effect, it’s only a one-story drop. Nevermind the lovely safety railings.
Benefits of a place that occasionally has children in attendance.
Wei Qing chuckles to himself as his nerves relax.
It’s funny, the little protection mechanisms that you don’t even realize you’ve built, until you blindly run into them. Clearly, he sunbathed on his balcony with Yue Fei, dozens of stories up from anything like survivability and never felt the slightest twinge.
Because it was home, and he was safe.
But at night, with champagne bubbling through his veins and strangers occasionally appearing– It turns out, Wei Qing has some lingering feelings about being on a rooftop. Without Yue Fei.
But he doesn’t want their relationship to be a pinball game of trauma, with each of them constantly bouncing around from one landmine to the next. So it’s good to microdose these experiences. To be able to walk calmly and even sometimes look at the iron and nickel and bronze titans that surround him; to peek over the edge and comfort himself that only an idiot could die from this height, to think about later bragging to Dr. Maki about his impromptu exposure therapy.
Anyway, it’s not like he regrets dying.
He probably should, but how can he? He regrets being on that roof, with that man, in that situation, and everything that came before– But death led to rebirth, and though he’s not prepared to press his luck a second time, he can’t regret being able to wake up and start over.
With Yue Fei.
Yue Fei who is so-
“A’Qing? Ah, small world.”
Wei Qing turns the corner and sees Gao Zhong leaning casually against the wall, protecting the newly-lit clove cigarette in his fingers. Wei Qing remembers those. Djarum Blacks– they always tasted like cherries whenever he stole a kiss because Gao Zhong wouldn’t let him steal a drag.
Huh. He shakes his head. He doesn’t know why he suddenly remembered that.
Wei Qing nods his head and turns to the closest sculpture to read the dimly-lit placard introducing the work and artist. [Price upon request]. Gao Zhong doesn’t move to follow, still lazily smoking, and it helps Wei Qing sort his emotions and relax.
It’s probably all the palace dramas that are confusing him and making him think that meeting an ex in the middle of the night is always a dogblooded thing. Gao Zhong didn’t want him– he left first. Years ago. And Wei Qing doesn’t want Gao Zhong. In truth, most of his warm feelings come from nostalgia. If they met now for the first time, Wei Qing doesn’t think he’d fall for him. After all, whether now or then, Gao Zhong had always been a tad too polished, a little too much of a mirror for those around him. It’s hard to fall in love with someone that you can’t ever really see the flaws of, as hard as loving a phantom.
Under these conditions, there’s no reason for anything stressful to happen just because they’re at the same party, or on the same roof.
Still, Wei Qing vaguely wishes Yue Fei would hurry up.
Ah, probably just codependence. He’s been warned about this and knows it’s not attractive. He settles for sending a flirty text with unnecessarily detailed directions to his location. Good compromise.
Still reading, still keeping his distance, he fishes around for a topic.
“I forget, are you friends with any of the Long siblings?”
“Ah, not more than a passing acquaintance. They’re all so old.”
Wei Qing snorts. Gao Zhong continues, indolent and approachable.
“You know my mom. Always wanting more culture, always wanting to brush up our sense of existence. Since I’m back home, naturally I’ve been drafted. Not that I mind. Like you, I’ve always had an appreciation for art. Even when it’s compulsory.”
“At least it’s art. Imagine if your mom was into horse breeding or something.”
Gao Zhong’s always had a nice laugh, and with every chuckle, Wei Qing relaxes. Probably, whatever was going on with his brother was just a momentary impulse. As someone who has been on the receiving end of Wei Qiwan’s baffling and sudden disdain, Wei Qing can hardly take it too seriously when it’s applied to others. And those flowers were probably just the misstep of someone that forgot their place, and now that he’d been reminded, Gao Zhong would be a decent person.
But-
He remembers Yue Fei also told him to stay away, and not to look. And those flowers had crossed the line– Wei Qing wakes up from the languidness of memory and easy conversation and nostalgic smoke and decides to end the conversation and look for Yue Fei all the same.
“Well, have fun. I’m off to find my boyfriend.”
“Who?” The light teasing in Gao Zhong’s voice strips off another layer of Wei Qing’s wariness, even as he moves to leave.
“Ah? Oh, did you not-? Ah-” Wei Qing smiles, bigger than he realizes. Puffs up his chest and brags. “Yue Fei. We’re together now. And really, really happy.”
Gao Zhong pulls himself away from the wall, that perfect, protective smile hanging from his lips and the scent of the past swirling up from the cigarette burning away from his hand at his hip. The nearest stub collector happens to be near Wei Qing, and Gao Zhong moves towards it, words and steps still light and non-threatening. Like the boy Wei Qing remembers, but doesn’t miss.
“A’Qing is happy?”
“En. The happiest.” He really is. He can’t wait to go home and-
“Are you sure?”
Gao Zhong closes the distance between them and forces a kiss.
Author’s Corner:
Gao Zhong, why are you the grossest? Yue Fei and Wei Qing are out here, being all cute and soft and matching, and you’re the smokestack actively polluting the landscape. Isn’t the drama of Wei Qiwan being hunted for sport enough excitement? Did you have to show up and be an ass at the very end?
Gao Zhong: Author, didn’t you do this? Aren’t I just-?
Author: Shut up. I didn’t, I wouldn’t.
(Thank you all for the advice and well-wishes. Covid seems to have passed, now it’s just clearing up lingering throat stuff! 
)
Gah! Bleh! Fuck off rapey ashtray!
Gao Zhong you bastaaaaaard 😊🔪🔪🔪
Good that you feel better, author!!
HOW DARE YOU
Pwah! This is when our ever present pocket size sanitizer comes in handy. I wonder if the icky assault is timed for Yue Fei or Wei Qiwan to see it?
I don’t want to forget the couple suits though! Downright swoony 🥰
Bleeeaaazrg. This is my feeling for you Gao Zong.
(But an another note the “as dense as a transmigrated black star” for Wei Qiwan put me. In. Stitches. I reread it at least 6 times just for sh*t and giggles)
Happy to hear you’re better and thanks for the chapter 🍩