Chapter Text
“Good evening, everyone. I am Luo Yi, Cyan’s older sister. I apologize if I am not exactly the person that you want to see tonight; but my brother’s doctors have decided that he is not yet physically ready to make any public appearances. Cyan, of course, still wanted to meet you all, especially his fans, however, with respect to his medical personnel, he let me represent in his stead.
As we are all probably aware by now, my brother was involved in a terrible set of events throughout the past two months. It was only three days ago that we were able to save him from these circumstances, and it was clear to see that he was troubled physically, mentally, and emotionally. It broke my and my family’s hearts to see him like this, especially for someone so young. Cyan may be famous and adored by many, a ‘superstar’, as many headlines would claim, but underneath it all, he is still human. He—he is still my… my little brother…
I’m sorry. With... with this in mind, Cyan has given me the permission to announce that he will be retiring from show business, which he has worked in for the past five years. Please note that Cyan made this decision with a sound mind and of his own accord. None of us had a hand in this, though we also worried heavily for him and his condition. As such, we support our Cyan wholeheartedly and hope you all will as well. After all, we cannot deny our own selves the chance to rest after difficult and strenuous times. We ask that you do not deny my brother of this opportunity as well.
If anyone has further questions, I and Cyan’s public relations team are open to any queries. Please do not direct your questions towards my brother or other members of our family. They have been through enough.
I hope we will all be able to move on favorably from this period. Thank you all for coming and listening.”
10 years later
Ling liked that the school was so near to his home, so near that he could simply get on his bicycle and make a five-minute ride. He liked that his bike was a sturdy one, painted a shade of dusty blue, with a basket large enough for his books. He liked the brown leather messenger bag his students gave him, even if they liked to tease him about it. Two students, in fact, waited by the gate of his home to tease him almost every day.
Well, one student, one that always dragged her boyfriend over for fun.
“Mr. Ling!” Wanwan waved gaily from the bench on the other side of the road. Beside her was Yin, her childhood friend turned boyfriend. He waved as well, all the while glancing at Wanwan with an expression that read I love you so much, otherwise I wouldn’t be doing this. Wanwan proceeded to skip down the road—honestly, these children, she didn’t even look both ways!—and leaned against Ling’s fencepost as he let his bike out of the gate. “Good morning!”
“Good morning, Wanwan, Yin,” Ling nodded at them in turn. “Just in time, as always.”
“We like greeting you first thing in the morning, don’t we, Yin?”
“Of course we do,” Yin said, slightly pained. Then, on a more cheerful note, he added, “Do you know what day it is today, Mr. Ling?”
That soured Ling’s day ever so slightly. Of course he knew what day it was today. How could he ever forget… “I don’t know, what is it?”
“Teacher’s Day! Come on, Mr. Ling, how could you forget?”
“Ah.” Ling hopped on his bike. “Forgive me, we never really celebrated Teacher’s Day back in my old school.”
“N-never—never celebrated— but sir!” Wanwan put a hand to her chest, mortified. “Teacher’s Day is such an important day!”
“Totally!” Yin said, flabbergasted. “There’s food—“
“And games—“
“And no class—“
“And most importantly, we vote on the most handsome and beautiful teachers in campus!” Wanwan fluttered her eyelashes. “The most coveted award! Students vote for their favorite adviser online!”
“I literally said there’s no class, but the most important part is who’s the hottest? And wouldn’t every student be voting for their own adviser?”
“Yeah, but the students at the computer club did this something or other that disabled students from voting for their own advisers—“
“I’m sorry,” Ling said. “Did you say online?”
Crap. I’ve stayed off-grid for ten years, and I get caught by a stupid contest?
“Well, yeah,” Wanwan shrugged. “It’s on the school’s underground website. Students only. And I’m voting for you!”
A tiny weight was lifted off Ling’s chest. Students only. Ah.
Yin sighed. “We can’t vote for our own advisers, remember?”
“Oh…” Wanwan turned to him, pouting. “Then can I use your account?”
“We’re classmates.”
“You’re no fun,” Wanwan crossed her arms. “I’m gonna go find Kagura later, then.”
“Aw, sorry my snap pea,” Yin put an arm around Wanwan’s shoulders, chuckling as she tried to shake him off. “How about I rope in Hayabusa and a couple of my friends in from the class next door? It can be this neat little arrangement.”
“You’re such a simp,” Wanwan whined. A few seconds later, she put her hands on Yin’s shoulders, propping herself up to kiss him. “I love you!”
A slight blush formed on Yin’s left ear. “Love you too, snap pea.”
“Come on. We don’t have a bike, we’ll be late.” Wanwan tugged on Yin’s wrist. “See you in class, Mr. Ling! We can’t promise that there will be no cake and balloons!”
“See you,” Ling waved them off, letting the two get a headstart as he sat on his bicycle. Teacher’s Day, they say? Wonder what his co-teachers have to say about it.
As long as it didn’t put him in the public view too much, it couldn’t be that bad…
----
“Yo, Happy Us Day,” Fredrinn grumbled from his cubicle, right next to Ling’s. Fredrinn was even newer than Ling—he’d only transferred to this district a month ago—but he was already much better than Ling’s old cubby partner. The way she had babbled on and on about celebrities and TV—it made Ling shudder. Fredrinn was no nonsense, barely cracked any jokes, and didn’t know anything about pop culture from the past decade. He suited Ling just fine. “Your students planning anything for you?”
“A cake and balloons, I think,” Ling said, absentmindedly, rearranging his book. “Yours?”
“I teach shop. I don’t get no class,” Fredrinn chuckled, picking up his coffee from his table and taking a sip. “Don’t worry, we all get to go home come lunch. Principal Tigreal’s giving the faculty the rest of the afternoon off.”
“Oh, nice,” Ling smiled, mostly in relief. “I’d love to go home early today.”
The faculty room’s doors burst open again, and Eudora stumbled in. She slid into the cubicle in front of Ling’s, sliding a bunch of papers into a folder.
“Yikes. Rough morning, Eudora?” Fredrinn brandished his coffee at Eudora, who waved it off.
“Yes and no. These are all letters I got from students who couldn’t even wait for the program.”
“There’s a program?” Ling blinked. “I thought advisers get to have their own small celebrations.”
“They do, afterwards. But the student government decided that the non-advisers should get a small moment of glory too,” Eudora said, causing Fredrinn to groan. “Plus, that contest—“
“That’s real?”
“I almost forgot you hate using the Internet,” Eudora smiled ruefully. “Yeah, they’re announcing the winners at the end of the program. I think Hanzo and Esmeralda are winning, though. So you guys just sit back. I mean, except for you, Fredrinn. You get to sit front and center with all the other non-advisers.”
“Splendid,” Fredrinn grumbled.
“And I heard another thing from that Internet, Ling,” A phone was shoved into Ling’s face, and he stared at the picture, dumbfounded.
“No way, Baxia’s having a discount?”
“Just for teachers,” Eudora pocketed her phone. “It’s only for today, and most of us are heading to the beach this afternoon. Freya’s treat.”
“I think I’d rather head to Baxia’s restaurant instead,” Ling smiled good-naturedly. “Who am I to turn down a discount?”
Fredrinn shook his head. “You have a stiff upper lip, Ling, and that damned restaurant is the only thing that can loosen it? You’re a fine piece, y’know? You need a pretty girl—or boy, if you swing that way.”
Eudora raised her brows. “Don’t tell me you’re going boy-hunting at the beach, Freddie! What would Fray say?”
“Nothing! I’m not going out with you all. I’m heading home early to cook him a good dinner for once.”
“That’s sweet,” Ling commented, as he made a new bullet point on his schedule: Baxia’s Hotpot, 1 pm. “I think we’re all going to have fun this Teacher’s Day after all.”
----
As expected, there were cakes and balloons. Hanzo and Esmeralda won the contest, and the faculty room sank into chaos as everybody started preparing things to bring to the beach. A few quiet ones like him and Fredrinn started packing their own things to go home. Fredrinn and Ling walked out of the campus together before parting ways—Fredrinn to his car and Ling to his bike. He started riding towards the opposite direction of his home—to Baxia’s Hotpot, which was only a couple blocks away.
I almost forgot you hate using the Internet.
He didn’t exactly hate it, Ling decided. Only that the internet was usually too risky to use. Or at least, that’s what he’d say when his co-workers asked him. And he wasn’t wrong—he’s seen enough catfishing and scamming videos to prove his point. And the deep web, and black markets, and human trafficking, and they—Eudora, usually—would stand up, waving hands, saying that Ling’s made his point.
There were other reasons Ling stayed away. But they weren’t exactly reasons that he’d love to explain in detail. It was a good thing that he got to Baxia’s storefront in time, before his thoughts could drown him any further.
Baxia’s Hotpot was a small place, only seating four to six people at any given time. It was never full when Ling visited, which almost disappointed him—the menu was amazing and delicious, and didn’t only include hotpot, even serving full meals like fried rice or chicken stew. Ling’s only discovered the place two months ago, but already he’s picked out his favorite—medium-sized seafood hotpot, with a side of scallion pancakes. And Baxia, the titular man himself, has memorized Ling’s order to the point where he could add Ling’s order to the list before he had even entered the storefront himself. He felt his stomach give a slight gurgle as he parked his bike—a bit embarrassing, but good food just has that effect on you. He pushed the door open, already mid-wave, expecting to say hello to Baxia.
“Oh. Where’s…”
A different man, noticeably a lot younger than Baxia—closer to Ling’s age, even—stood in front of combination kitchenette and cash register that Baxia usually manned. He had a black cap with the visor facing backwards, and a matching black facemask that covered his face from nose down. Ling should’ve wondered by then—what kind of cook covers up his face so that he couldn’t taste his food?—but instead he cautiously walked up to the cash register, looking up at the menu like he was suddenly unfamiliar with it all.
“Where’s Baxia? He’s taking a small break. What are assistants for, right?” The man grinned, or at least Ling thought he grinned. The man’s eyes crinkled, slight and gentle. They seemed almost too friendly. “Sorry—he hired me only yesterday. I assume you’re Ling? One of his favorite customers?”
“H-how did you…”
“Don’t sweat it. Baxia’s given me the rundown of who to watch out for. A customer who comes here three times a week or more is definitely one of them. Now, what did he say about your order…” He snatched a sticky note from the register. “Medium-sized hotpot and scallion pancakes?”
“That’s me.”
“Great. How about you sit down and I’ll bring the pancakes out first? Name’s Zilong by the way.”
“Thanks, Zilong,” Ling nodded at him, before taking a seat closer to the window. Outside, a small breeze has started flowing, obvious from the way the branches of the trees near the restaurant started to sway. There was little to no activity outside, save for the occasional student walking home. Eventually, Ling’s attention was pulled to the delicious aroma of batter and vegetable filling the small room, accompanied much later with the scent of fresh seafood. Zilong came out a few minutes later, a tray in his hands. On it was a plate of fresh scallion pancakes, still steaming, bright green leaves poking out of crispy golden circles.
“I did my best,” Zilong smiled. “Enjoy. I’ll bring your seafood hotpot in a while.”
Ling bit into the pancake. It was Baxia's recipe, sure enough, bright and savory. The edges were crunchy and he nibbled along the sides before finally taking bigger bites. From his spot in front of a large wok, Zilong had paused from stirring the seaweed broth. He stared at Ling like he anticipated the other's reaction, head tilted, a curious expression in his eyes...
Maybe a little bit too curious...
"How's the taste?" He said finally, hands tapping expectantly against the counter.
"It's good," Ling said. There was a bitter aftertaste he can't quite place, but it wasn't unbearable. "Like always..."
"Good," Zilong left the kitchenette completely. Ling began to sense something was wrong, and he stood—
—tried to stand up. His legs were completely numb.
What... What the hell was going on?
"It took some persuasion to get that recipe out of Baxia, you know." Zilong continued. "But it was either he told and I knocked him out temporarily, or he didn't tell me and I knocked him out permanently. It was an easy choice after that."
Should he crawl? He can try...
Ling squirmed against the seat, but already his vision was becoming fuzzy. The pancake fell in a sad flop to the table.
"Y-y—" He looked up at Zilong’s deceptively kind eyes. He tipped up Ling's chin, making him swallow the last of the pancake in his mouth. The poison slid down his throat, heavy and deadly. His eyes began to close.
"Don't worry Ling," A voice murmured. "You won't remember a thing."