Chapter Text
As soon as Xie Lian says that, the two of them back away from each other.
“C-Cousin Xie Lian!” Qi Rong says with surprise.
“Gege…” is all Hua Cheng says.
Xie Lian doesn’t have time to blush at the way Hua Cheng says the nickname. He can’t have them fight. It would break his heart. And not to mention whatever remnants of his family ties still are. “Qi Rong. You’re obviously going to loose. Stop fighting.” Then he turns to Hua Cheng. “San Lang. I know my cousin’s behavior is bad. But please, don’t stoop to his level,”
“STOOP TO MY LEVEL?! WHAT’S THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN!?!” Qi Rong screams, his arms balled in fists.
Xie Lian doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He wishes his cousin would just vanish and go back to high school or wherever he’s supposed to be instead of fighting his kind-of-crush-but-also-kind-of-mafia-boss barista.
Hua Cheng, though, backs away from the fight circle, scattering flour as he does so. He wrings his wrists, and Xie Lian watches as the movement makes it look like the ink tiger lilies are swaying in the wind.
He wants to take a picture of them.
But this is not the time. Xie Lian turns to Qi Rong. “Be reasonable,”
“TELL CRIMSON RAIN TO FIGHT ME LIKE A MAN!”
“No.” Xie Lian says, folding his arms over each other. “He has already proven himself. There is no need for more fighting,”
Xie Lian looks over to see if Hua Cheng will reply, but Hua Cheng isn’t looking at him. He’s looking at the floor, his feet shifting. Almost as though he’s nervous…
Xie Lian shakes that thought away. Hua Cheng? Nervous? Yeah, right.
“This party is over.” Hua Cheng says, eyebrows narrowed. “Disperse yourselves,” he says to the crowd.
Xie Lian drags Qi Rong out by his ear. “Are you even in college? How did you get in here?!”
Qi Rong shuffles his feet. “Jin Ling, one of the sophomores let me in. He said it was fine..”
“Isn’t it a school night?”
“HIGH SCHOOL IS DUMB ANYWAYS. Plus, what’s the point? I’d rather go be a fighter than something dumb like school,”
Xie Lian sighs. “That’s not true. We’ll talk about this later. And I’m calling your mom.”
Qi Rong stomps his feet and balls his fist like a petulant child. “YOU WOULDN’T!!”
“Oh yes I would. And if I see you picking fights again, I will,” Xie Lian scolds, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’s one stop from grabbing Qi Rong by the ear and dragging him out himself. There was something about that kid that made Xie Lian loose some of his carefully maintained composure. Maybe it was the kid’s connection to his old family, the life he had once had and the life he had lost.
Xie Lian shakes that thought off. It did not do well to mourn over what he could not change. He takes a deep breath, then dispells the resentment, letting it wash over him like water in a river. But there still remained a lingering anger, mixed with shame and a bit of dread at Qi Rong’s behavior. And surprisingly, his thoughts weren’t just centered around Qi Rong but also Hua Cheng. He was mad at Qi Rong for what he had done, for how he had looked in front of Hua Cheng. And even more, Xie Lian hated that the careful barrier he had built between the Hua Cheng that Feng Xin and Mu Qing had described and the San Lang that he himself knew so well, the teasing and well meaning barista, had been broken. He had always known they were the same person, but now, thanks to Qi Rong, it had become all too real. He couldn’t shake the intense expression in Hua Cheng’s eyes as he rolled his sleeves up and prepared to fight. And he was mad at himself for getting so close to someone so possibly dangerous.
On his way through the dispersing crowds, someone catches his arm. Xie Lian shivers. It’s none other than Hua Cheng.
“Gege,” he says, looking Xie Lian in the eyes.
“San Lang,” he utters, the breath leaving his face as he sees Hua Cheng’s expression.
“I’m so sorry,”
“It’s fine. I understand. My cousin is… a lot to handle,”
“No, it’s not fine. There are things I need to explain to you. But I never should have tried to fight him. I hope to earn your forgiveness in the future,”
“Of course I forgive you, San Lang. There is nothing to forgive,” Xie Lian says, because he feels it is true. Xie Lian’s own feelings towards the man are not Hua Cheng’s fault. He didn’t need to be dragged into them. “I don’t blame you,”
“You are a very kind man,” He says, and Xie Lian is struck with the feeling that Hua Cheng is very, very, sure of this statement. He seems far more sure of Xie Lian’s goodness than he himself.. “I need to tell you something. About us… and about him,”
“San Lang, don’t worry! You won’t have to deal with my cousin anymore!” Xie Lian says, forcing a smile on his face. He has the sneaking suspicion that San Lang was seeing right through his facade. As San Lang looked into Xie Lian’s eyes, he got the feeling San Lang was looking past his flesh, beyond his ribcage and straight into his soul.
At that moment, though, As they speak, Xie Lian hears some shuffling noises coming from their side. He turns over to see two figures, wearing baseball caps and sunglasses.
Suddenly, he is whisked away by theses people. “WHA-?!”
Hua Cheng narrows his eyes, and for a moment it looks like he is about to give chase, but one of them shoes him away and it is then that Xie Lian realizes he is being carted away like a damsel in distress by none other than Feng Xin and Mu Qing.
He almost laughs at the absurdity of the situation, but he has no time before the two of them push him into what looks like a deserted guest room and begin to strip off layers of their clothing. It seemed they had put in an extra effort to remain concealed, and Xie Lian fights off a laugh as he remembers the fear in their eyes at Hua Cheng as a barista.
“Xie Lian.” Feng Xin says. “You-”
He is interrupted.
“ ARE YOU TRYING TO GET YOURSELF KILLED?!” Mu Qing roars.
But Xie Lian isn’t paying attention anymore, because as he turns around, he realizes where he actually is. What Xie Lian had originally thought was a wall, he now realized were strips of canvas that obscured a whole other half of the room, filled with even more easels.
Xie Lian is standing in the middle of an art studio.
Xie Lian lets his gaze fall upon the desk. Underneath all of the clutter and debris, postcards stick out in every direction, some of old wood block prints from China and Japan; others well-known works of impressionist artists, and still more blurry photographs or cutouts from various magazines. However, one neat stack amongst the clutter sticks out to him neat stack on the desk are a set of five postcards he recognizes well. He could swear he recognized some of the postcards, so he takes a step closer to get a better look.
Then, it dawns on him.
They are his own photos.
He sold them on his website last semester, when he had started to get more followers on Twitter and realized capitalizing on the holiday season might be worth his time. He didn’t really think anyone he knew would buy them, so he didn’t tell anyone at school. He’d gotten a few orders, certainly not any that he could remember from a fellow student.
As soon as he’s finished processing this, though, Mu Qing and Feng Xin have already dissolved back into infighting. He sends a silent prayer of thanks to whatever gods might be listening for the two’s dysfunctional friendship.
Hastily, Xie Lian grabs the stack of postcards, and slips out of the art studio before the two have time to take a break to continue whatever their previous tirade had been about. He has no idea where Shi Qingxuan have ran off too, but Wei Wuxian has resorted to banging pans together and screaming at people to get out like he’s the head of a frat house. So he figures that self-preservation is the best call here, and slips through the back door as fast as he can.
Once outside, he begins the trek back to campus as he flips through the postcards. He feels a twinge of guilt for stealing his own art from one of probably seven of his customers, but it wasn’t like he could go back now. Plus, something in his gut told him he should take them. To be fair, Xie Lian’s instincts had been known to be spectacularly wrong before (see: Xianle Media) but it wasn’t like he had much to loose. Hua Cheng didn’t seem like such a bad guy.
The corners of the postcards seem weathered, and the paper had gone soft, like they had been flipped through just like this many times before. Xie Lian isn’t sure why his brain is so fixated on that fact, but it stays in his mind as he looks through them. There’s also some of what Xie Lian can only guess is writing, but what looks more like an abstract form of art, or a fight between a man and his pen (the pen was loosing). Seeing as he can’t make out the symbols to begin with, he just shrugs and places them back in his pocket.
The rest of the walk passes serenely, and Xie Lian could almost forget about the whole debacle with Qi Rong. He vows to call Qi Rong’s parents and instruct them to start tracking his location on one of those new apps Xie Lian knows little about.
Then, a truly worrisome thought hits him; will this change anything between him and Hua Cheng?
It’s not like they are truly close, but Xie Lian had begun to believe that they were at least some semblance of friends. Xie Lian wonders if his meddling had brought that brief acquaintance to a close. Ah well, he’ll be back at the cafe tomorrow regardless. He vows to act normal, and hopes Hua Cheng will do the same. Xie Lian wonders if his meddling had brought that brief acquaintance to a close.
Ah well, he’ll be back at the cafe tomorrow regardless. He vows to act normal, and hopes Hua Cheng will do the same.