Chapter Text
Three days after Yi planted the idea in his head that Goumang might actually like him, it was time to head back to her place. Kuafu found himself slowly losing his composure.
Before, when he’d been blissfully unaware, everything had felt simple. He could talk to her, joke with her, just exist around her without overthinking every word. But now the possibility sat at the back of his mind, heavy and impossible to ignore. Asking her out no longer felt like a casual chance, it felt like a test.
And suddenly every little thing he did seemed like it had to be exactly right, or else she might change her mind.
The walk there felt longer than usual.
Kuafu kept rehearsing things in his head, trying out different versions of the same sentence and discarding each one almost immediately.
‘Hey, Goumang, I was wondering if-’
No, too stiff.
‘Do you want to go somewhere with me sometime?’
Too vague.
‘Yi thinks you like me, so I thought I should ask-’
Absolutely not.
He groaned under his breath and dragged a hand down his face, already certain this was going to go terribly.
The worst part was that nothing had actually happened yet. Goumang hadn’t rejected him. She hadn’t even been asked. And still he felt like he was standing on the edge of something that could either go wonderfully right or painfully wrong.
By the time her house came into view, his heart was beating far faster than the situation probably deserved.
‘Just act normal’ he told himself.
Which, of course, immediately made him forget how to act normal.
By the time he reached her front door he reached the point of considering turning around and texting her that something came up at the last second. But that would be pathetic, and Kuafu knew it.
Still, he lingered there, staring at the door as if it might somehow make the decision for him. His hand hovered near his pocket where his phone was, the temptation was almost enough to make him faint. It would be so easy to send a quick message she probably wouldn’t even question it. He could already imagine himself halfway down the road before she even saw it, the whole situation postponed to some vague later time when he would supposedly feel more prepared. The thought sat there, dangerously appealing.
Kuafu let out a long breath and dragged a hand down his face. “No,” he muttered quietly to himself. Running now would only make things worse. He’d spend the rest of the day thinking about it, replaying the moment he turned around and walked away. The rest of the week, probably. And Yi would absolutely never let him hear the end of it if he found out. Worse than that, Kuafu knew he wouldn’t let himself forget it either.
The house was quiet on the other side of the door, which only made the moment stretch longer. Too quiet. It left far too much space for his thoughts to keep circling the same problem. Three days ago he’d been fine. Three days ago he’d been confident. He could talk to Goumang without every word feeling like it mattered too much. Now he was standing outside her house like knocking on the door was a life-altering decision.
‘Just knock.’ he told himself.
His hand lifted, hesitated for half a second, then finally rapped against the wood before he could change his mind again. The sound seemed louder than it should have in the stillness of the afternoon.
Immediately, Kuafu straightened, then realized he had no idea what to do with himself while he waited. He shifted his weight once, then again. His arms folded briefly before unfolding just as quickly, settling awkwardly at his sides as if they didn’t belong to him anymore. Waiting somehow felt worse than the knocking itself.
Footsteps approached from inside.
His stomach dropped.
A moment later the door opened, and there stood Goumang, looking exactly the same as always, calm, relaxed, completely unaware that Kuafu had just spent the last several minutes quietly spiraling on her front step.
“Hey,” she said, a small smile appearing when she saw him.
For a moment Kuafu simply blinked at her, every line he’d rehearsed on the walk over scattering the second he met her eyes. All the careful planning in his head vanished like it had never been there at all.
“S-Sup,” he said after a brief pause, rubbing the back of his neck in a gesture that was suddenly very familiar.
Goumang tilted her head slightly at his greeting, her smile widening just a little, though whether it was amusement or simple politeness Kuafu couldn’t tell. That, unfortunately, only made him more aware of himself, of the way he was standing, the way his voice had stumbled over the word, the way his hand was still awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck like he’d forgotten how to put it down.
“You look nervous,” she said lightly, stepping back from the doorway to let him in. “Everything alright?”
Kuafu hesitated for half a second before stepping inside, suddenly very conscious of the sound of his own footsteps. “Yeah,” he said quickly, maybe a little too quickly. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… tired.”
Smooth, he thought immediately.
The door shut behind him with a soft click, and the familiar interior of Goumang’s house did absolutely nothing to calm the storm going on in his head. If anything, it made it worse. Being here meant the moment was real now. There was no more walking, no more rehearsing sentences that would never survive contact with reality.
Goumang glanced back at him as she moved further into the room. “You’ve been quiet,” she said, not accusingly, just observant. “Something on your mind?”
Kuafu froze for a fraction of a second.
‘Yes,’ his brain screamed immediately. ‘Several things, actually.’
But none of those things seemed remotely capable of coming out of his mouth in a coherent order.
He looked away, pretending to study something very interesting on the wall while he tried to buy himself a few seconds. “No, not really,” he said, which was the most obvious lie he’d told all day.
Goumang didn’t call him out on it. Instead, she leaned lightly against the edge of the table, watching him with an expression that was thoughtful in a way that made him feel like she could see straight through the nonsense.
“You’re thinking very loudly,” she said after a moment.
Kuafu blinked. “I am?”
“Mm.” Her smile turned a little teasing. “I can practically hear the gears turning from here.”
He huffed out a small, embarrassed breath and pulled at his collar. “That bad, huh?”
“Don’t take up poker.”
For a second the room went quiet again, the kind of quiet that gave his thoughts far too much space to panic.
‘Just ask,’ a voice in the back of his head insisted. ‘It’s not that complicated.’
Except it felt incredibly complicated.
Kuafu shifted his weight, glancing back at Goumang. She was still watching him, calm and unhurried, giving nothing away, neither a hint of impatience nor encouragement. Somehow, that stillness made it both easier and impossibly harder at the same time. There was no pressure from her, no push, but the lack of it somehow amplified every fear in his head. Each second stretched longer than the last, giving his overthinking mind more space to spiral. He tried to steady himself, telling himself that it didn’t have to be perfect, that he could just speak, but even that felt impossible.
“Hey,” he started, and then immediately stopped. ‘Great start,’ he thought bitterly, glaring at the inside of his own skull. He rubbed the back of his neck again, hoping if he stared hard enough at the floor he might somehow summon the right words. He could feel the heat creeping up his cheeks and the sudden dryness in his mouth, every little physical reaction making him feel even more exposed.
“I was, uh…” he tried again, his voice barely above a whisper. “I was wondering something.”
“Oh yeah?” Goumang replied, leaning slightly forward, her eyes narrowing with curiosity, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “I’m all ears.”
Kuafu swallowed hard, the lump in his throat suddenly impossibly large. His mind screamed at him. The words were ready, rehearsed perfectly over and over in his head, and yet when it came time to speak, his mouth refused. He opened it, started to speak, then froze entirely, folding at the very last second as though the weight of the moment had physically pinned him to the spot. The quiet hung between them, heavier than it had any right to be, and Kuafu could feel every second ticking by as his courage faltered.
“I know I didn’t finish last time,” he said at last, the words rushing out before he could stop them, “but… has your computer been doing any better?”
The moment the sentence left his mouth, Kuafu knew he’d taken the easy way out.
Yi wasn’t here, but Kuafu could practically feel the disappointment anyway, like it had traveled across the distance just to shame him. If Yi could see him right now sidestepping the question he spent three days working up the nerve to ask, he’d never hear the end of it.
Kuafu resisted the urge to groan out loud. ‘Smooth,’ he thought bitterly.
He made a quiet mental note then and there to never let Yi hear about this. Ever. And if he still couldn’t gather the courage to ask Goumang out by the end of the day… well.
He’d just have to go to Fuxi for help instead… So long as Nuwa wasn’t there too.
“I don’t know what you did,” Goumang said easily, giving a small wave of her hand as she spoke, “but it at least turns on for a bit now. I was able to transfer some important files, at least.”
Kuafu nodded, shifting back to the actual reason he was there, easing the tight knot that had been sitting in his chest. Talking about something practical, something he understood, felt a lot safer than the direction his thoughts had been trying to drag him.
“I’ll make sure it’s working one hundred percent by the time I leave today,” he said with a small, confident smile, giving her a thumbs-up. Then, after a beat, he tilted his head slightly. “By the way, how did it break in the first place?”
Goumang groaned immediately, rolling her eyes as the memory came back to her. The reaction made Kuafu chuckle under his breath, a little amused, though if he was being honest, he also found the expression on her face kind of cute.
“I was watching Shinue and Shiqu,” she said with a soft huff, only mildly annoyed. Kuafu could already tell she wasn’t truly upset, she never stayed mad at those kids for long. “I stepped away to get them something to eat, and while I was gone they started roughhousing… even after I told them not to.”
“You know how easy it is for kids to get carried away.”
Kuafu nodded knowingly. “Yeah,” he said, glancing up from the laptop. “Kids don’t really understand the concept of ‘not right now.’”
Goumang huffed a quiet laugh. “Exactly. The second I turned my back, it was like they took that as permission.”
“Of course they did,” Kuafu said. “That’s how it works.”
She shook her head, though there was more fondness than irritation in the gesture. “They were so quiet afterward it almost made it worse. Just standing there staring at the computer like it had personally betrayed them.”
Kuafu snorted. “Let me guess, they both tried to blame gravity.”
“Shiqu said the rug attacked him,” Goumang said flatly.
That got a real laugh out of Kuafu.
“Yeah,” he said, shaking his head as he leaned over the laptop again. “That tracks.”
The screen flickered as he opened another diagnostic panel, his fingers moving more confidently now that he had something concrete to focus on. Working with machines was simple. Something broke, you figured out why, you fixed it. No guessing games, no overthinking every word.
If only people worked like that.
Behind him, Goumang wandered a little closer, leaning lightly against the back of the couch while she watched him work.
“So,” she said after a moment, her tone casual, “what exactly did you do to it last time?”
Kuafu shrugged slightly. “Mostly checked the connections and reset a few things. If the impact knocked something loose internally, I’ll have to open it up.”
“Is that bad?”
“Not really,” he said. “Just a little more work.”
The laptop gave a soft chime as another window loaded. Kuafu studied the screen for a moment, brow furrowing slightly in concentration.
Goumang watched him quietly.
After a few seconds, she tilted her head a little.
“You know,” she said, “you still look nervous.”
Kuafu’s fingers paused over the keyboard.
“…I do not.”
“You do,” she replied immediately.
He sighed through his nose, leaning back slightly in the chair. “I’m just focusing.”
“Mm,” she hummed, clearly unconvinced.
Kuafu stared very intently at the laptop screen.
Unfortunately for him, Goumang didn’t seem in any hurry to drop the subject.
“So,” she said lightly, “what were you going to ask me earlier?”
His brain immediately short-circuited.
“What you and Yi do when you hang out,” Kuafu said quickly. “Honestly, with how often you two are at each other’s throats, it’s kind of surprising you can stand being alone together.”
“That’s because we’re not,” Goumang scoffed, rolling her eyes. “We only ‘hang out’ because of the kids.”
She crossed her arms, her gaze settling squarely on him. Kuafu didn’t even need to look up from the computer to feel it.
“Shuanshuan is friends with Shinue and Shiqu.” she continued after a moment. “We’re not about to get in the way of that just because Yi and I can’t stand each other.”
A small pause followed before she added, a little more reluctantly, “...Even if it takes some effort.”
Kuafu nodded slowly. In hindsight, it made sense, he really should have assumed that from the start. Just another example of him getting lost in his own head, turning simple things into complicated scenarios that didn’t exist.
“But I know that’s not what you really wanted to ask me,” Goumang said, cutting through his thoughts and freezing him in place. “Didn’t I already tell you? You have a terrible poker face.”
Kuafu froze mid-motion, fingers hovering over the keyboard as if the simple act of typing might betray him. His throat suddenly felt tight, the room warmer than it had a moment ago, and every rational thought he’d been clinging to evaporated.
“I-I…” he stammered, blinking at her. The words he had spent three days rehearsing now felt impossibly heavy, tangled up with all the fear and hope he’d been trying to ignore. “I wasn’t going to-” He stopped, realizing that whatever he tried to say next would sound pathetic.
Goumang’s eyes softened, a faint amusement lingering there, but there was no judgment, no rush, just a quiet patience that somehow made him even more aware of himself. “Kuafu,” she said gently, “look at me, you don’t need to dance around it.”
He exhaled sharply, a mix of frustration and resignation. She could see right through him. Of course she could. The thought made his stomach twist, but it also made him oddly lighter, as if admitting it silently, even without speaking, was a first step toward not collapsing under the weight of his own nerves.
“Maybe… maybe I just don’t know how to ask things the right way,” he mumbled finally, not meeting her eyes, his hands fidgeting in his lap.
Goumang leaned forward slightly, her tone teasing but gentle. “You’re overthinking it again. That’s your problem. Always thinking too much. Just say it, Kuafu. Say the thing you’re trying not to.”
His heart thundered in his chest. That encouragement was everything and nothing at the same time. He could feel the panic and anticipation coiling in him, ready to explode, but also the strange calm of knowing he had a moment of honesty with her, however clumsy, that no rehearsed line could ever replace.
“…I… uh…” he started again, voice barely audible, “…I was wondering… if maybe you’d want to,”
Goumang raised an eyebrow, leaning back slightly, arms crossed now in a way that was more expectant than defensive. “Want to what?”
Kuafu’s hands curled into fists in his lap. Every possible continuation raced through his mind, some foolish, some hopeful, none perfect. And yet, for the first time that day, he realized he didn’t have to be perfect.
“I… I just… I like spending time with you,” he finally admitted, the words spilling out before his brain could hijack them. “More than… you know, just hanging out. I… I mean… would you… maybe want to go out with me sometime?”
The room seemed to hold its breath. Even the laptop’s soft hum faded into the background before shutting down completely, as Kuafu braced for her reaction, every muscle in his body tense, every heartbeat echoing in his ears.
Goumang stared at him for a long moment, and then… she smiled. A full, warm, slightly mischievous smile that made the tension in his chest loosen just a fraction.
“Was that really so hard?” she said, shaking her head lightly. “Yes, I’d like that.”
Relief and disbelief collided in him, and he laughed nervously, a sound he hadn’t realized he’d been holding back. “…Really?”
“Really,” she confirmed, still smiling. And just like that, the weight that had been pressing down on him for days began to lift, replaced by a nervous, fluttering excitement that was… actually kind of wonderful.
Kuafu’s shoulders slumped as the tension he’d been carrying for days finally began to release. The knot in his chest loosened, and for the first time, he could actually breathe. The rehearsed lines, the panic, the constant overthinking, it all felt stupid now, it really had been as simple as just saying what he needed to.
He blinked at her, disbelief and relief mingling on his face. “So… that’s really… yes?” he asked, his voice barely steady, yet full of a shaky excitement he couldn’t hide.
Goumang’s smile widened, soft and teasing, but also warm in a way that made his chest feel lighter. “Yes, it’s really yes. You finally asked.”
Kuafu laughed, nervous and uncoordinated, but genuine. “I… wow, okay. I can’t believe this is actually happening.”
She tilted her head slightly, her expression amused. “Took you long enough, I was starting to think you’d never ask.”
“I may have… overthought it a little,” he admitted sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “A lot.”
Goumang shook her head, still smiling, and it was the kind of smile that made him feel like maybe all the worry had been worth it. “Well, you asked. That’s what matters.”
Kuafu grinned, feeling a strange, exhilarating mixture of relief and anticipation. “So… uh, where do we start?”
She shrugged, light and casual, but her eyes sparkled. “We start with lunch. Then we’ll see where the day takes us.”
And just like that, the tension of the last three days evaporated. Kuafu realized that it hadn’t been the asking that mattered most, it had been finally letting himself be honest. The fear, the nerves, the overthinking, they were gone now, replaced by a fluttering, hopeful excitement that made him feel like he was finally able to relax.