Chapter Text
Perhaps a rule should be set in stone for the world to see , that is: ‘One shall not, under any circumstances, allow an aggrieved man to handle a knife.’ Because those juicy blood-red strawberries certainly do not look any sort of appealing under the hard press of vein-protruding hands. At least, for Wei Wuxian who is the closest and quite literally the only other breathing person that can catch the brunt of that blade if it were in any shape or form mishandled.
Long story short, waking up to the scent of cream and fresh bread definitely seemed appetite- inducing if not for the fact that the table’s laden with pastries more than enough to feed a nation and Jiang Cheng’s weary and ashen pale complexion indicating exhaustion with a hint of annoyance spoke of his usual habit. He probably hasn’t slept yet.
“So,” Wei Wuxian starts slowly, peering his eyes over Jiang Cheng’s shoulder to make sure he wasn’t handling anything that could end his life early. “Baking, huh.” Pathetic start, but he really has no idea how to handle this kind of Jiang Cheng.
“Mn?” Jiang Cheng responds softly without sparing a look. In five seconds, the dough in his hands had been split into small lumps, each thickly coated with chocolate chips.
“You’re stress baking.” He points out. “Jiang Cheng, we can’t even finish all of this— ”
“Call it whatever you want.” He says sharply, voice slightly strained from the lack of use since this morning.
Wei Wuxian sighs, tapping on the box of empty matcha powder and passively reading its contents. Jiang Cheng’s mood hadn’t been the best since that encounter with Jin Guangyao and his silence could only hide so much. He hasn’t come up with any explanations to describe his intense behavior, still, but then frustrated at the next, an occasional sigh and a huff. “What happened?” He tries to ask as softly as possible. “You don’t stress bake when you’re angry.”
That much was true, but perhaps even Jiang Cheng himself hadn’t noticed. Baking usually required an amount of precision and focus and even though it’s pretty much ingrained in Jiang Cheng’s muscle memory, he didn’t like doing it when angry, at most he’d walk away or head to the gym to cool his head.
Jiang Cheng’s confused look is enough to prove that he hasn’t realized his habits and this was enough to shift his attention onto his brother.
“You stress bake when you’re sad.”
His brother’s face twists into an unreadable expression, the corners of his eyes casting downwards in slight confusion and shock and his hands handling the dough loosen its hold. For a moment, Wei Wuxian could almost see the hurt in his eyes before it flickers back into opaque steel with burning irritation. “Who’s sad?” He brushes off quickly, the ping of the oven coincidentally ringing at the same time he spoke.
“I’m not a fool to fall for such easy tricks, and that bastard even thinks it’s much better if he does it a day earlier I really—” He spirals onto a rant, having been slightly flustered from Wei Wuxian’s words, he opens the oven with his bare hands and the tips of his fingers already reaching for the tray before he hisses a quiet “fuck,” and grabs the pair of mittens.
Classic dinner rolls, Wei Wuxian notes as the batch of fragrant, soft, and almost golden lumps of bread come steaming out from the oven, its fragrance almost overwhelmingly delicious. Jiang Cheng lays them down on the marble counter still cursing and Wei Wuxian has half a mind to dump the pitcher of water onto his head to cool him down.
“Stupid—” Jiang Cheng mutters in between, dividing the rows of bread with a bread knife. “All they have in their minds is money— like hell that’ll get them anywhere. If they ever so much come and ask me, and speak to me like I’m some sort of product or precious gold I’ll crush them— see what money does to a corrupted soul. Fucking hell. ”
Despite his stupor, the rolls were perfectly cut with only a few traces of excess and Wei Wuxian reached out a hand to snatch one stray piece up, whistling. “Wow, that’s more bread.”
"Have you ironed the clothes? The car will fetch us at six p.m, we've got around four hours to get ready and I'm pretty sure jiejie is very particular about our appearance."
A few hours after handing out bread to the enthusiastic neighbors and Jiang Cheng catching up on a few hours of sleep, Wei Wuxian comes down to the living room sofa with hair wet, fresh from a shower. His face glowing brightly from the assortment of skin care products sent to them by Yanli (along with some written instructions), anyone could clearly tell the difference between him and his brother curled up on the sofa.
"Mn." Appearance? If Jiang Cheng could look at himself in a mirror now he'd resemble a walking corpse or maybe hot coal considering how red he was getting. Either way, he felt drained with his soul sucked dry. He doesn’t even mind, really.
The vibrations on his phone try to jolt him awake and he should have put it on silent like any reasonable person but the only energy he has is in his vocal chords, already threatening to yell a very loud 'SHUT UP' on the poor, unassuming inanimate object, but his dignity was worth more than that.
He's gone on an almost 48-hour long break of not talking or replying to Xichen and it took the first 24 hours for Xichen to finally break and spam his messages which is incredibly unlike him. (He's pretty sure there's an apology about the flooding somewhere in the pile) but now it seems like he's finally resigned and left it to the party tonight to get his answers.
Jiang Cheng truly does not want to remain unreasonable. In fact, he does want to clear things up and talk it out properly (although he's not so sure how still his heart could remain all throughout because to be pretty honest, it's all marred and broken, hanging on a wet bandage.) But he's still pretty shaken up with disbelief, the vibrancy of the red mark ingrained in his mind.
Was he overreacting? Well, possibly. Maybe. But it undeniably hurts like a bitch considering how much he's told him and how much he's trusted him with, and the fact that he had to send Jin Guangyao? The nerve.
The café is quite literally his everything. His 'fuck you' to the universe that burnt him and also his 'I love you' to those who are just as lost as him. In many ways, it had been a temporary home. There's a small hidden 'x' mark under the carpet of the entrance, signifying that this is their destination, and people all sorts of tired find comfort in his creations. It's his pride and dignity all the same, and taking it away from him hurt just as much as his heart being ripped out.
It's easy to say no to the offers about buying his place, he doesn't think much of it. He even liked to consider it as an achievement. Not everyone knew his story, and he didn't really feel like they should, but Lan Xichen's move after he told that was really a slap to the face. How could his face be so thick? The worst part was that he couldn't feel outright mad even if he wanted to because his stupid self still wanted to hear confirmation from his lips. Something to separate and give his eyes justification of Lan Xichen’s true image, just to make sure this wasn't just a bad dream.
In his eyes, Lan Xichen had softened and turned into this innocent and genuine man full of wonder. He knows people born with circumstances like him don’t exactly have a plethora of choices when it comes to life decisions, but a part of his heart had been begging for this sincerity with how he presented himself so raw in front of him.
It’s incredibly hard to admit how he’s more sad than angry. How he’s disappointed rather than frustrated. Jiang Cheng knows who he is, he’s a self-made man with all the vestiges of countless stitching and construction hidden away by his strong demeanor and it’s incredibly silly how he’s so scared of confrontation as if they were bombs that could blow up his cover at any given time.
A part of him feels like he’s going to cry out in anger and he doesn’t want to know how miserable and defeated he looks considering how he’d marched out onto this battle of love with high defense and full artillery only to find out Xichen is a hole on the ground that made him fall without so much of a warning.
"Jiang Cheng, are you hearing me?" A voice pierces through his train of thought and Jiang Cheng turns lazily to his brother who held up his outfit for tonight. He winces.
He really did not want to go.
"Yeah, yeah. I'll iron it in a bit." He waves him off but Wei Wuxian just raises an eyebrow and folds the clothing over his arm.
"That wasn't what I asked." He sighs.
"Oh?" Jiang Cheng stares, trying to recall anything else. He'd been so caught up with Xichen that he probably didn't hear anything Wei Wuxian had to say.
Wei Wuxian inches closer, face suddenly a bit more serious. "I asked if you were okay. You weren't in the best mood after Jin Guangyao visited and you've been grumpier than usual ever since. You're like grumpy sad...grad... sumpy? "
"Wei Wuxian—"
"Smad?"
It's so fucking stupid but it manages to crack a smile on his face and Wei Wuxian chuckles in victory. "So, what happened?"
"Can't guess?"
His brother eyes him wearily, unable to think up of a reply.
"You can't?" It’s heartbreaking because even he would have never thought.
"No, not really. Did he not reply for an hour? Dress badly? Use ten emojis in a sentence?"
Jiang Cheng laughs bitterly, feeling the tug at his heart. "You make him sound like he can't do anything wrong." With that money alone he could destroy everything he wanted to. With that gentle and soft demeanor along with a talent for diplomacy he could make poor, ambitious patissiere Jiang Cheng think he's genuine and fall in love with him.
Wei Wuxian purses his lips. "If he can help it, he wouldn't."
"So I'm guessing he just couldn't help putting his hands where it doesn't belong? Like trying to snatch Lotus Oven right before the party and using Jin Guangyao because he can't bring himself to face me or what?"
Wei Wuxian isn't surprised, but he didn't expect this either, he makes a mental note to talk to Wangji before replying. "That's what he wanted to talk to you for? Jiang Cheng, listen. I'm not defending him, but surely Xichen-ge has to save face. Something's not right. He's not the type to do things under someone's nose nor waste time trying to court you into this mess. "
"Wei Wuxian, you're giving him too much credit because of Wangji, that man has everything at his disposal."
He frowns. "Don't bring Wangji into this," He sighs, rubbing his temples.
Although Wei Wuxian was dating Xichen's brother, his faith in Xichen was strong. They've met many times, and without him, they probably wouldn't have ended up together. It's not pure bias either, he's heard so much praise from employees and colleagues alike that he just knows Xichen doesn't need to go through such arduous lengths for something like a small cafe.
It's Jiang Cheng's fear that's talking, his inability to to accept any sort of kindness without assessing their ulterior motives. It's the kind that shields him from any sort of hurt and it's also what isolates him from what he deserves, he isn't aware of it every time it happens, he probably doesn't even remember when he started to become like that, but Wei Wuxian does remember. The small, shy Jiang Cheng hesitating to make friends after the fire when they first moved to the city. He promised himself he'd become the bridge, but what of all the relationships, Wei Wuxian realizes it's time Jiang Cheng works this out on his own.
"Read the book before you pick a sentence," He says finally. "It's not that I'm giving him too much credit, I'm saying you're better at handling this."
There's no reply for a while before Jiang Cheng kicks his legs up from the sofa, his phone blocking the view of his face. "And I've seen this kind of occurrence more than a hundred times, I just — I.. maybe, later." He falters on his words but Wei Wuxian just nods in understanding, picking up the clothes to be ironed.
6:45 p.m. in front of Golden Club hotel Jiang Cheng makes his way out along with Wei Wuxian, following after their sister's car. A white collared shirt and a black oversized coat with dark purple flowers embroidered at the sleeves like vines makes its debut at the red carpet rolled out from the steps, one of the many exquisite works of a famous designer.
The venue is tastefully decorated with cream and gold, a highlight of bronze at the edges. People come in boasting their best attires and newly-bought vehicles, their chatter like sweet drops of honey on the pretense of business. Some fuerdai accompany their parents, with taut smiles as their fathers hold their arms tightly in place. Just beyond the entrance, Xichen and Jin Guangyao's attention are held up by a number of people, each taking the chance to butter them up while their families, seated next to each other listening passively.
Jiang Cheng steps out, following the escorts with his brain on auto-pilot as he stabilizes his nausea that had risen from the overly-sweet air freshener in the car. The temperature is a few degrees lower inside, more to accompany the ice figures while the slightly wooden and earthy aroma give an illusory sense of warmth.
With his image, he doesn't look the slightest bit out of place. With clothes just as expensive, posture just as straight, and looks just as beautiful, it was even enough to steal a few glances and raise some questions. Jiang Cheng knows there's something wrong, he doesn't quite know how to fill this image of himself out, and unlike most people here, he isn't looking for something to take home.
They're escorted to their table with names already in gold print, Yanli and Zixuan going off to greet a few of Zixuan's relatives and Wei Wuxian takes a seat, flashing a smile to Wangji. There's a small card with the party's events written onto it, a basic program with a few discussions of their projects and some kind of gift-giving, Jiang Cheng doesn't really care, then there's dinner.
"Take a picture," Comes Wei Wuxian's voice, impatiently tapping his foot on the floor. "You're staring at him so hard it's like you'll forget him."
Jiang Cheng sighs. "If I could."
"You mean you'd take a picture if you could?"
"No, dumbass. I'd forget him if I could." The words come from him, but he sounds a bit regretful after it's come out. He's not used to this feeling of being in-between, he's spent many years living with absolute decisions and now he feels like he's stepping on ground with planted bombs.
Truth is that Jiang Cheng is scared of a lot of things, it's in his system and that's why he doesn't recognize it so easily. He's scared of this pain that hasn't unleashed its worst. This is the closest he's come to pain unarmed, and he finds himself frozen on the spot rather than trying to run away.
Maybe he's afraid Xichen will change, maybe he's afraid that smile he liked so much will twist into a sadistic curve. And maybe he's dumb, dumb enough to doubt his thoughts, dumb to cling onto that hope that this is all just a misunderstanding.
There's still a jump in his heart once Xichen spots them and makes his way. Dressed in a three-piece black pinstripe suit with a small golden brooch, he looks almost unreal today and Jiang Cheng has to keep his eyes low, even as he stands up to greet him politely.
"Glad you were able to come, you all look wonderful." Xichen's mouth stretches out into a smile, eyes landing onto Jiang Cheng with a hint of genuine confusion as he tries to bite the inside of his cheek.
"You as well, ge, I imagine it must be a pain to set this all up?" Wei Wuxian talks through his teeth, lightly bumping Jiang Cheng's side.
Xichen laughs, "Of course I had the help of some very efficient people."
Just then, a booming voice calls Xichen's name from the other end of the room, the man easy to spot with his tall and almost domineering stature. Jiang Cheng recognized this as Nie Mingjue.
Xichen, who looked like he was about to say something had been immediately flustered, recollecting himself. He turns his head to acknowledge the man before bowing his head slightly to the two. "Sorry, it seems dage is looking for me. We've hired the best chefs to prepare the meals later, I hope you enjoy them thoroughly. I'll see you again," He dismisses himself and turns to leave before he bites back one last thing. "Jiang Cheng, I..."
Jiang Cheng is the only one who hasn't spoken much throughout the conversation and now he looked expectantly at him, waiting for something. Xichen's eyes dart around the room before he sighs, closing his mouth. "Nothing," He breathes out. "I'll be back."
Just a moment after the welcoming ceremony has finished and before the appetizers were served, a late guest grandly makes her appearance, the clang of champagne glasses being shifted, an indicator of her presence that stirred some hearts of young bachelors and married men alike.
She rose like a peach blossom in full bloom, elegantly dressed in a dark brown turtleneck paired with a plaid skirt and a sleek, ivory wool coat that held a brooch that resembled branches. Her chestnut hair falling to her face, loose curls framing its shape, and the lights of the chandelier reflecting in her eyes like a prism of colors. As if by instinct, the surrounding people made their way for her.
Actress Zhao Xuemei with the stage name of Hana, Jiang Cheng recognized her from the interview with Xichen. A hit star since childhood, her name has been on several major shows and her advertisements were aplenty. Her long friendship with Xichen has also been the subject of many rumors and debate considering her father was revealed to be the head of a multinational conglomerate.
Her eyes flutter with the shimmer of champagne pink, smiling mildly. It was as if everyone had been reduced to an audience watching a TV show, and their eyes automatically fell onto Xichen's figure who hadn't noticed what the commotion was about until he received a pinch from Nie Mingjue.
Jiang Cheng doesn't know what happens next, tearing his gaze away, a prickly sort of pain festering in his heart. Slowly, the masses start to chatter their way, the table of Lan elders discussing the actress.
"Lady Zhao, she truly is a natural beauty. I wonder why Xichen hasn't made his move, they're both young, but not for long." Comes the statement of one of them.
"I heard the president isn't particularly..." He tries to find the right term. " interested ."
Having not caught the meaning, the other continues. "Perhaps it is much harder to change the relationship from a friendship blooming many years." He coughs. "Enough, now. The food is being served."
The patissier, broken from his eavesdropping, tries to focus his attention onto the plate of food being served, finding the vibrant colour a but nauseating.
Stir-Fried tofu with an assortment of vegetables glazed with dark, honey brown sauce and a sprinkling of sesame seeds, the aroma too fragrant, his nose picking out the vinegar and the green beans rubbery in Jiang Cheng's mouth. Even the tofu had little to no taste.
It's his own problem, his dull mood unable to process the food at all. Across them, Yanli, Zixuan, and Wei Wuxian dig in the dishes with much enjoyment. Had it not been for etiquette, he wouldn't have chosen to eat at all.
Jiang Cheng finds it a pity, especially after the other dishes have made their appearances. A bowl of shiitake mushroom fried rice, partnered with winter melon soup placed in a small bowl and artfully decorated with cubed winter melon and spring onions. For meat, there was authentic Peking duck with crispy, roasted skin and braised beef.
WInter melon soup was something Jiang Cheng had just grown accustomed to eating for the sole purpose of being polite since it was practically served in every event. Now with his appetite ruined, he found that the cubed winter melon gave an odd almost slimy and barely chewy texture with a bit too much ginger and a lack of flavor from its broth.
The hall rouses in laughter and enjoyment, food and stories shared. Jiang Cheng still manages to stuff his mouth, feeling the fat of the pork dish a bit too greasy, and the cloud ear mushrooms too dry. After the main course, the dumplings didn't help at all. Crystal-like har gow and xiaolongbao with ginger and soy sauce for dipping. All of it tasteless.
The only dish that was rather bearable was the dessert, fresh slices of peaches laid in a boat of puff pastry swimming in cream and custard with a dome of melted sugar. Extremely pleasing to the eye. Jiang Cheng took a few bites before giving the rest to his eager brother.
After half an hour, most of the guests have already eaten their fill, their eyes wandering to the video played on a big screen or mingling with other guests. Wei Wuxian had long gotten Wangji's attention to who-knows-where and Yanli was speaking to a friend leaving Jiang Cheng alone on the table, sneaking a few glances at Xichen who was seated by his elders, his posture full of grace as they conversed.
At least he seems to be enjoying himself, he thinks to himself with a sigh. He looks at the file he has in his bag and quickly pulls out his phone to send a text, his first reply to Xichen after almost two days of silence.
To Xichen: If you have time to spare, meet me outside the garden in fifteen minutes.
Jiang Cheng could see the exact moment Xichen received the text but before he could watch any further, someone had already propped their elbow on the seat beside him, making him jump and almost throw his phone.
"So, President Lan, huh?" He hears the familiar rhythmic tone of this man's voice before he turns his eyes to look. Just as he imagined, an old friend, Nie Huaisang had taken the seat, richly dressed in some asymmetrical fashion, the mischievous tone of the dark, forest green complimenting his sly smile.
"Nie Huaisang what the fuck—" Jiang Cheng complains in surprise which his friend only receives with a laugh. They haven't been able to contact each other for a while, but they updated every once in a while, Huaisang informing him of his pursuit in fashion.
"Hm," He analyzes him with bright eyes, holding his chin and turning it left and right as if inspecting a doll. A very angry, frowning doll. "You have it bad." Huaisang gives his conclusion, ignoring the huff Jiang Cheng makes.
"No I don't."
"Lover's quarrel?" He raises an eyebrow.
"Is this really what you're going to greet me with—"
"I would have said hi, but I'm not basic. Also, those ladies keep trying to talk to me as if I'd serve as their one-way ticket to my brother. Gosh. " He sighs, looking over to a lady with a puke green dress. "Horrible, if I wanted to see a tragedy I would have gone to watch Shakespeare."
Jiang Cheng shakes his head, unable to distinguish what exactly was so bad about her attire. "We're not together. Also how did you even…?"
Huaisang's eyes sparkle like he's been waiting for this his whole life, flashing open a paper fan. "I overheard my brother. When you went to his restaurant? Ge was so adamant on giving you the perfect date. He even had to let our dog out to help you. Then he was worried you wouldn't like it but I assured him you would." He rambles on his story and Jiang Cheng' eyes widen in surprise.
Had Xichen really made so much of an effort? They hadn't even considered it as a first date! Feeling conflicted, he taps his fingers on the table with a light rhythm. Maybe there was something wrong, or maybe there wasn't, and he's just reading this all wrong he doesn't know.
Truthfully, the issue with Jin Guangyao isn't the only thing he worries about. There's been something bubbling in the pits of his stomach, threatening to leak and pour out its sour and bitter taste.
When it came down to it, it really didn't matter whether they liked each other or not.
Whenever he reads the headlines of those stupid celebrity magazines, when he walks past the television, scrolls across social media posts, and when his eyes fall to Lan Xichen, now engrossed in a moment with Zhao Xuemei, both grinning from ear to ear and he hears the music flutter softly like a track made for them, he knows he's been reduced to a side character, nameless in the credits.
It's the fact that maybe their existences weren't made for each other, and in the end, maybe one of them was bound to get hurt. And maybe they're both meant for greater things, things that don't involve each other.
Hearing their praises and seeing their observant looks, Jiang Cheng doesn't know how the hell he's supposed to fit in. He doesn't even know if he can ever make Lan Xichen smile that wide or glow so radiantly like Qiu Haitang does but he can count, deconstruct, and intricately list the many ways of how he and Xichen can hurt each other.
"Jiang Cheng," Huaisang calls, pulling him by the ear to grab his attention, and Jiang Cheng doesn't realize he'd spaced out.
"What?" He asks.
“Xichen...he’s— he’s really nice. Gege was always worried about him, something about how he never does anything half-hearted, there's nothing he approaches without giving all of his heart. And he's really smart, you know. He knows what he's doing. But perhaps he's unaware of how much he has to leave for himself. So when that time comes and he's all run-out and empty, I don't think he knows what he'll do." Huaisang mindlessly fiddles with his sleeve, giggling lightly with a glass of sweet wine on hand. He says it so carelessly, unaware of Jiang Cheng's inner turmoil.
He doesn't know what he'll give Lan Xichen once they do come to that point where he takes too much and he doesn't know what he has to offer to him. On most days he's just living enough for himself, just barely there, dull and exhausted.
"You always liked guys with pretty smiles. The type that makes you unable to tear your eyes away from them. Remember that guy you liked at the bar?"
"Shut up," Jiang Cheng whines weakly. It's true and he's never noticed it before. He does like his stupid smile. And it hurts to be reminded of the things he let go because he feels like he doesn't deserve it.
"As your friend, extremely concerned over how pitiful you look right now, I'm going to ask you one thing."
"Mn?"
"Does he make you happy?"
Happy? Jiang Cheng knows no happiness is eternal, and maybe that's why. If it's the only thing he can ever admit, if it were to be his last words, his acknowledgement to Xichen, it's the irrevocable truth that he has been the only person that has been able to make him smile for days.
Foolish and simple, like a daydream. That despite all his frustrations, anger, anxiety, and fear, Xichen's so radiant and warm, pooling into his heart like molten gold and he makes him breathe.
"Yes, he does." He answers after a moment of hesitation, scared that if he utters these words out loud he may not be able to get them back.
It's funny how leaving a party feels like entering a new world. Jiang Cheng waits on the cold marble bench outside the main hall, a variety of plants strategically placed around the beautifully made fountain. The temperature was rather chilly and the music being played inside echoed rather mystically, almost dream-like.
Fifteen minutes feels like an eternity and Jiang Cheng spends those minutes in distress, unable to find any suitable kind of word choice— which would have been way easier if he knew what he truly wanted to say but he doesn't either, and he scraps away each word that tries to force its way out of his mouth.
Xichen arrives exactly after fifteen minutes without a second to spare and Jiang Cheng curses how he should have foreseen his promptness because he isn't prepared at all.
He notices the way Xichen approaches him with a bit of hesitance and caution like approaching a fragile statue in a museum, Lan Xichen takes care of his facial expression and the way he walks, careful not to step too loudly, Jiang Cheng tries to force out a polite smile to get him to relax, but even that looked more of a strain.
Ideally, he would have wanted to clear things up and give the both of them more time to think, but Jiang Cheng is cruel in that aspect, how he's going to tell him that he just needs some time to think when he already knows the both of them are not going to work when he can clearly see that Xichen belongs to someone who deserves him more.
"I didn't think you'd arrive so fast. You seemed to be busy." Jiang Cheng says.
"Of course I'd make time for you." Xichen replies smoothly, sitting in the space beside Jiang Cheng. "Is something wrong?"
He tries not to think of how hurt Xichen already looks and pulls out the folder Jin Guangyao had left him yesterday, placing it on Xichen's lap wordlessly.
He watches as Xichen flips open the files, carefully reading each paper with his eyes reflecting the multitude of emotions within him as his brows knit together trying to make sense of the print.
"Jin— President Jin came to Lotus Oven a few days ago." He begins to explain. "Were you too busy to accompany him?" Jiang Cheng can't help the low cry in his voice, realizing how much harder it is to speak while looking into his eyes. "He talked about buying the whole place. Of course, upon the agreement of a few conditions written on that file but— I don't know, maybe the least you could have done is show your face if this was what you wanted all along."
This is bad. Jiang Cheng analyzes him closely, eyes wildly placing itself along the curves of his face, looking for this false hope, the ruptures in his face that indicated Jiang Cheng thought wrong.
Xichen's so bad at lying that he becomes good at it. Because nobody thinks he'd lie they take what Xichen shows them as the whole truth. Jiang Cheng watches him struggle to steel himself with lips trembling and looking so utterly hurt that it breaks his heart.
"Jiang Cheng, I don't— I don't know what this is. The last thing he told me was that he was pursuing a new project, but trust me please, he never mentioned this." The darkness casts its shadow over him and Xichen almost bites his tongue not knowing what to say. "The signature I have here is from the agreement to assist him in any future endeavours, not specifically this one. If I had known beforehand I would have told him."
Maybe it's because Jiang Cheng has grown weaker that his anger dissipates, replaced only with dread and guilt.
"Is this why you didn't answer me?"
I wish it were the only reason. Jiang Cheng doesn't say a word, motionless on his seat, thinking of the most efficient way to tell him he needs a break.
Xichen was too open, his heart displayed on the outside glowing a bright red. Jiang Cheng wonders, If you knew I was going to hurt you would you have chosen to wait? He hates how he knows the answer to it too, he hates how much he's observed and studied Lan Xichen over the past few months, filling his mind with only him and now he's telling himself to let it go.
"There's something else I wanted to ask you."
After leaving the party for so long, Jiang Cheng's body had grown accustomed to the heavy atmosphere, the exhaustion creeping into his veins.
Xichen doesn't lie, he doesn't, at all. But he's smiling, he's smiling like he means it because it's the only thing he can offer him at this moment. If he and Jiang Cheng were to abruptly cut it off, the least he could say was that he left with a smile.
Perhaps he could blame it on his upbringing, the kind that had to decipher each and every spoken word, read each motive, and respond accordingly. He can tell what's about to happen, but Xichen doesn't have the ability to brace himself for the impact no matter how good he is at reading minds.
"Have you ever thought that...maybe, we're not meant to work out at all?"
There it is. The sharp, unusual flash of desperation flashing on the face of a man who could have everything he wanted and Jiang Cheng can just trace the exact moment where his heart sinks and before he harnesses his well-trained restraint in the form of a taut smile, still standing like cracked glass.
Jiang Cheng hates the way emotion clearly reflects in his eyes, the way hurt spreads in the way his jaw tightens- he allows himself to be shot with no defenses and Jiang Cheng can only look at his own trembling hands that pulled the trigger.
Jiang Cheng won't admit that he likes him. A lot. Maybe even too much. I look at you and I trust you with all things dear to me. That thought comes to him more often than he’d like. It becomes dangerous when he thinks that way, when he thinks of all the possibilities that just seem so utterly impossible.
"Gege!"
Suddenly, the voice of a woman calls out to him and Jiang Cheng looks up from the entrance, Zhao Xuemei standing with two glasses of wine, waiting for him with a familiar smile.
There are only but a handful of things that make him insecure, but right now he feels so stupid and small and insignificant between the two of them.
He can't find the heart within him to stay or wait for an answer. "Forget it, Xichen. Maybe another time, someone is waiting for you. I shouldn't have told you this tonight."
That's a lie, because if he didn't tell him now he'd never have said a single thing at all.
So he gets up and waits for nothing, a bitter laugh trying to escape his mouth as he walks away.
And Xichen lets him leave.
Suffocating.
Trickling down like fresh blood, the sound of the shattered teacup echoes and pours out its bitter contents.
"Xichen,"
"I apologize, La—"
"What's wrong with you today? The cup was placed incorrectly, what did you think was going to happen?"
So, utterly, suffocating.
Xichen closes his mouth. They ask him questions they want answers to, but they feel wronged once he speaks.
Because he's raised with white silk and velvet, it's so easy to spot where he went wrong. Where the lines crease and the fabric folds, it's very easy to pick apart his faults.
He hears the whispers from the public every time he appears, those intimate, closed-in conversations filled with vigor and pity. "Don't you know who he is? He's the CEO Lan Xichen!"
But then there's the other side,
"But how can I get close to you? Xichen, I don't know who you truly are."
It hurts to hear it from the person he once thought made him the happiest man alive, it hurts coming from him and it hurts even more that he's reminded of why they didn't work out. And it's echoing in his mind, this voice that tells him it's his fault.
Xichen thinks that the reason he's prone to overthinking is because he's empty, and these thoughts roam freely and take his body captive.
Simply put, there are many things that make Lan Xichen happy. He likes the feeling of being needed, he likes the feeling of being necessary. It's the closest thing he gets to being loved with no conditions. Because there are too many things going on within him, the intersection of blood and ichor, stardust, shadows, and sunlight- too much, way too much that he's reduced to nothing but an unintelligible mess.
He makes himself look easy to understand, breaks his beating red heart open and lets everyone in, but somewhere further down the line, there's this border of the self that he knows he has but has never seen.
Oftentimes Xichen feels like the only thing that's left of him is what his parents wanted him to be, the older brother, the heir, the good, obedient son. It's a struggle to find anything else, in his attempt at searching, Xichen only finds himself empty.
Falling in love with Jiang Cheng was something so out of the blue. He never meant to, didn't mean to stay and linger in his eyes, didn't mean to think and daydream about him like sprawled notes on the back of a school notebook. Xichen is bad at falling in love because he doesn't know himself and yet he's willing to hand over his everything the moment he does.
Maybe he falls a little too easily, trusts a little too easily, and looks at Jiang Cheng a little too helplessly and then blames himself when he gets hurt.
Zhao Xuemei is one of the only people who knows this well. This stunning actress he met at the beginning of her popularity during one of the many parties held by her father, he would have never thought he'd find her sitting alone.
It seems that talk is not enough to tackle loneliness. They became close friends rather easily and Xichen thinks it's because they're rather similar. They both live under the image their family gives them, going through life on expectations.
Zhao Xuemei only spills out the truth to him, the truth of her false self, her emptiness. They're like mirrors.
Xichen heeds her call after Jiang Cheng has left, an unsettling feeling lodging into his chest as he accepts the drink handed to him. She knows he does not like to drink. It's damage control. You hand someone something fragile and tell them something out of place, she's afraid and she's telling him to be careful. Xichen knows this language well.
"I uh.." There's a red blush creeping on her cheeks. "Do you have to go back soon?"
"Not really."
He watches the dark red drink swirl in her cup, almost half empty. Her polished hands shake with anxiety. "I'll make this quick." For myself. She assures.
"Xichen I..." Zhao Xuemei gathers up all the courage to look at him, her eyes meeting his glassy ones. "I like you." She breathes out and clutches her arm, looking away. "Sorry, it's predictable— I know."
Xichen's throat dries and he wants to say no but it actually is. Way too predictable, way too planned, structured, and predestined like his life like something directly copied from a recipe book and served.
Everyone had always thought they'd be together, and Xichen had indulged in the idea once— but five seconds is not enough time to think of someone you'd want to spend a lifetime with.
How far were they on the other end of the spectrum? Somehow, he can't help but wonder what the flaw in them was. He's madly in love with Jiang Cheng and yet there's something, a feeling way too close for Zhao Xuemei that's not exactly the romantic or family kind of love.
I like you.
I like you.
I like you.
Maybe it's because 'I like you' is one letter away from 'I'm like you.' And he finds comfort in knowing someone else is stuck in the same situation as him.
But he doesn't know what will become of them if he hurts her like this.
"Xiao— Zhao Xuemei, I'm sorry."
"You don't have to apologize!" She blurts out, wine almost spilling again from her glass as Xichen's glass barely wavers. Zhao Xuemei coughs. "Sorry, I mean... I kind of knew, you know? Have you ever felt that maybe we got along too well? Perhaps that's the reason why I found comfort in you."
"We're too alike." He says softly. "And I also like someone else."
"Ah," Her eyes glimmer but it's probably tears. "Was it him?"
The look in Xichen's face softens and he wraps his hand around the folder he's been holding tighter. He nods.
Zhao Xuemei tries to laugh in that broken tone. "Have you told him?"
"Many times." He answers, looking at the path Jiang Cheng took. "But I keep messing up."
They're too perfect, they're too well-made and arranged and it makes it so easy for them to find each and every mistake.
"I'll tell you this, Lan Xichen." She finally says through tears, and from the lowered angle of her head he makes out the burst of her black roots seeping through the soft brown. It's the closest color she's dyed it to the original black, and it's the closest thing that resembles his memory of her twelve years ago.
"Mn," He responds, having stripped of all his strength, guilt and shame creeping up his skin.
She turns to look at him. "You were always like the sea viewed from the shore." She states. "So open, wide, and welcoming like you're enough for everyone. But you don't let anyone close enough to see the deepest parts of you. At some point you draw this invisible line and you don't see how they're going to care for you instead of hurt you."
Xichen stares in bewilderment, his chest feeling heavier by the second. How was he supposed to say that he doesn't have any idea of what's underneath either? How was he supposed to say that he's been so busy staying afloat that he doesn't know how to swim and now he's afraid of drowning?
"And sometimes, in those moments, you don't realize how much you make people think they've earned your trust and then you close your doors once they get deep enough. You make them think like they don't deserve you."
Was she drunk? Possibly. Her skin had been turning a bright right since a while ago, but it hurts to hear her words. "Is that what you think of me?"
"What? No. Xichen it never really was the question of whether or not I deserved you— I just liked you because I did. Because you're you and...you...you're so..." The words fall from her lips repeatedly like a broken machine and her self defense mechanism quietly shatters. A tear leaks from her eyes but Zhao Xuemei quickly looks away. "Forget it, you made me happy alright? But I... I want your happiness too."
"Zhao Xuemei..."
"Don't speak, please."
"Thank you."
For the first time, Zhao Xuemei finds herself unable to control her emotions, the tears won't stop even if her mind repeatedly yells 'CUT' in a director's voice and her heart feels too weak to stay here a second longer.
"Sorry, let's meet again, alright? And maybe forget this happened. Good luck, Xichen." She says quickly, trying her best to offer a smile through her blurred vision.
Xichen smiles and watches her turn away to run back to the hall, quietly wishing her happiness as well before he makes his way to Jin Guangyao.
Jiang Cheng liked Lan Xichen. He loved him, had a crush on him, wanted to kiss him, and do all sorts of things with him. And if you were to pick the crudest choice of words to sum up his situation right now, it would be 'Jiang Cheng left the party to go home because he got jealous and doesn't think he's enough.'
It's so hard to admit because Jiang Cheng spent most of his life fulfilling his goals and becoming someone worth knowing and yet when another person is involved, it somehow sends him running out in the cold streets to hail a cab heading straight to his house.
Stress-baking had exhausted the hell out of him and now he wants nothing better than to throw the pillow on the sofa across the room. He doesn't know if there's anything left to save from what they had or if regret was starting to settle in. Either way, he can't stop thinking about Lan Xichen and each time he envisions him— it makes his heart tremble.
Honestly, how much more could he shake up his heart until he dies?
Jiang Cheng angrily wraps a blanket around himself, already dressed in casual clothing. Rain had started to pour an hour ago and Jiang Cheng was alone in his cold living room, only accompanied by thunder and lightning.
His phone vibrates indicating a text and he curiously peers at it, thinking it's his brother. But the name is different and he picks it up, the message from Jin Guangyao.
When he opens it, a short speech bubble appears with only two words: 'I'm sorry.' with no context at all and Jiang Cheng huffs. But before he could hover his hands over the keyboard to reply, an incoming call rings and it's from Lan Xichen. He almost drops his phone.
Jiang Cheng lets it ring for a while, deciding on what to do, but if so many things were to happen tomorrow, then he might as well eat up fate's serving of the day.
He accepts the call. "Yes, Xichen?"
From the other end of the line, he could hear the heaviness of the rain almost overpowering his voice and Jiang Cheng wondered if the signal was weak.
"Are you home?" Still, his voice over the phone isn't much different than in real life and he finds his chest blooming with warmth once again.
"No, I'm not."
"You're not?"
"Did someone tell you?"
"Your brother, yes."
Jiang Cheng was just about to lose it and demand he take the phone to his brother when he hears three short knocks on the door.
He doesn't think much of it, perhaps only a hallucination, but it happens again.
And Xichen's voice: "Jiang Cheng, please give me a chance."
He leaps out from the sofa so quickly, unbinding himself from the blanket and runs to the door with bare feet skidding across cold marble. There's so much giddiness lining his veins and Jiang Cheng feels the stardust shine in his blood one by one.
He's said this before. Many times, he had envisioned spending the rest of his life with someone. That figure is so elusive and unknown. Jiang Cheng doesn't really have an ideal type, and he isn't sure whether the person he would like would come and stay long enough.
He tried to stick to good virtues, like someone patient, kind, and loving. And Lan Xichen was all that, he really was. But Lan Xichen was also somewhat childish, sometimes his tongue runs faster than his mind, sometimes he's too careful, too safe, and too helplessly in love wearing his heart on the outside that left Jiang Cheng so afraid to hurt him.
Given that he's so perfect, Jiang Cheng fell in love with the imperfections he brought along with him. And he tells himself that there are plenty of people who can be just as kind, just as loving, and beautiful and charming- but his heart seeks only one person and soon, that image, that elusive figure he always imagined had turned into Lan Xichen.
And despite the many people he's met in his life, he figures why no one else fit that figure was because it could only ever be him.
And he opens his door in trepidation, the gust of wind spraying water on his face and he looks to see Lan Xichen in front of him, hair sticking to his face and all of his designer clothes soaked and heavy. And god he looked so gorgeous, even then.
"Jiang Cheng, please listen to me." Is the first thing he says. "I'm sorry— I didn't know er-ge went out to look for you, I didn't know it was you. I talked to him now, and I know I may not be able to win your trust so easily again but I—"
"Xichen—"
"But I promise I have been nothing but genui—"
"Xichen!"
"—ne to you and I never wanted to hurt you in any way at all and— ah! "
"Lan Xichen!" Jiang Cheng finally yells through the storm and Lan Xichen finds himself literally falling as Jiang Cheng grabs his wrist and pulls him inside, severely underestimating his weight as he almost topples over with Xichen crashing right into his arms.
Xichen stays frozen for a moment, not noticing how wet he's gotten Jiang Cheng and stays in his arms for a moment or two and if he wasn't hallucinating, the arms around him tightened.
“I told you to come in for a moment, why didn't you listen?! Do you want me to break your legs?! You're fucking soaking! " Jiang Cheng's voice is loud but filled with concern and worry it almost breaks in its loudness. Xichen’s clothes soak him even more but he doesn’t let go until the warmth of his skin transfers onto his and Jiang Cheng sighs.
“Go to the bathroom on the right and take a hot shower. Look at you, you’re going to get sick.” Xichen’s eyes lock onto him as if in a trance, feeling a warm blush on his skin at Jiang Cheng’s fussing. He fetches a towel for him and Xichen follows obediently, stunned. He doesn’t give him any room to speak until later, once he's given a change of clothes and fully dried.
Jiang Cheng waits for him in the living room, having changed into his own outfit as well. His expression remains rather unreadable. Looking around his home, the first thing he realizes is how dynamic Jiang Cheng’s house looks. Half-read books on the table, baking utensils on the sink, an iron left to cool, and a colourful diffuser running. The walls are white, just like his, but Jiang Cheng sits in the middle, against all the comes and goes, all things left in motion, and stays as if in command.
It’s rather interesting how this dynamic gives him a sense of familiarity and warmth, like there’s this sense of responsibility that’s fulfilled. It’s fascinating because Xichen liked leaving things look untouched, because he sees self-initiated motion as chaos and chaos meant punishment. But now he sees something different. Chaos wasn’t just about the disarray, chaos was about life and chaos means someone is there.
Xichen doesn’t know where to place himself and instead awkwardly stands in the middle of the room, meeting Jiang Cheng’s eyes.
“Jiang Cheng, I’m so..”
“I heard you the first time. “
He doesn’t know what that’s supposed to mean. Had he had enough or did he listen?
“I get it. I do.” Jiang Cheng says. “I’m at fault too. We both made a mistake. I told you, I’m slow when it comes to this, I’m an asshole, Xichen.”
Xichen frowns. “No you’re not.”
“God,” Jiang Cheng didn’t know if he was going to laugh or cry. He throws his head back, chuckling and biting down the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes. “I really cannot hate you.”
Xichen looks up. “Jiang Cheng, I don’t know what you mean.” Maybe it’s silly, because his heart is beating so fast at something so vague.
“Xichen,” He stands up from his seat and lets his hands hang low as he approaches. “I hate having to leave you. I don’t like the thought of not being with you.” Jiang Cheng wishes he could be more solid and direct with his thoughts, but it doesn’t seem sincere enough so he hopes Xichen will understand it just fine.
Slowly, like he’s afraid he’ll disappear, Jiang Cheng puts his palms on Xichen’s chest, holding his breath and waiting for the moment XIchen tears away. But he doesn’t, and he waits, holding him captive and disarmed with his gaze.
From his heart ground to fine powder, he feels the ash rise and burn into a flame, forging a tender, new manifestation of love that allows him to carry just enough space for the both of them. He hopes he understands. Just how much weight there is in his touch, how much meaning it carries, and how much love he holds for him.
And Xichen understands, his way of reading people finally finding its purpose just for him and he wraps his hands around Jiang Cheng’s wrist and circles his skin with the pads of his thumbs gently before he dives in.
Just then, once his lips are merely a few centimeters away from Jiang Cheng’s, an abrupt grumble startles the two of them and Jiang Cheng breaks into a smile, looking down at his stomach to a very mortified Lan Xichen.
“Oh fu—”
“Oh my god, Xichen.” He bursts into crystal clear laughter, the tenseness of the moment breaking into comfortable noise. “I’m pretty sure I saw you eating at the party?”
“All for show.” Xichen grimaces. “I couldn’t bring myself to.”
“Alright, hold on. I’ll heat something up, sorry I’m no five-star chef, by the way.”
Xichen raises his hands up. “No! I like your food more than anything else.”
Jiang Cheng heats up the leftover vermicelli noodle soup with pork meatballs and a few pieces of shumai. They talk over the table with whatever topic that comes up to mind, thoroughly enjoying the food on the table.
“Jiang Cheng,” Xichen calls him, holding up a piece of the dumpling in his chopsticks. “Say ahh.”
When Jiang Cheng looks up, it takes a while before he registers what he wants to do and a bit of embarrassment paints his face.
“Come on, it’s going to be a cold dumpling if you stare at it any longer.” He says and Jiang Cheng is just about done with him, so he heeds his request, opening his mouth shyly. This, unfortunately served as a double edged sword because so many, unnecessary thoughts filled his brain sending him to overdrive as Jiang Cheng sinks his teeth into the meat.
“Alright, your turn.” Jiang Cheng says, purposely taking the biggest and unevenly shaped meatball and holding it in between his chopsticks. Xichen looks at him bewildered.”Well?”
As it turns out, Lan Xichen has a black hole for a mouth (take it as you wish) and was surprisingly able to fit the meatball into his mouth, much to Jiang Cheng’s surprise.
“What?” Xichen stares, raising an eyebrow at Jiang Cheng’s shocked expression.
“N-nothing…” He waves off. “By the way, don’t you have to head back soon? There’s only an hour left before the party ends.”
“I talked things over with Jin Guangyao. It’s okay, he’s got it under control.” XIchen explains. “But why did you leave?”
He feels the relentless gaze on him and Jiang Cheng knows there’s no getting out of this one. “I just thought you deserved better.” He looks away. “I mean, when that lady called for you— everyone was already expecting you two to date or something.”
Confusion shadows Xichen’s face as he recalls something but then eventually realizes what he means. “ Oh, Ms. Zhao Xuemei? Jiang Cheng, are you...were you jealous?”
No reply.
“She’s a childhood friend of mine.” Says Xichen. “Well, to be honest with you, she made it clear that’s not what she thinks of me, but I don’t really like her in that way. I can’t because I have you. I can’t because...because I have this feeling that we’re much too alike and it won’t be good for the both of us.”
Jiang Cheng knows he isn’t deep enough to recognize Lan Xichen’s depths yet, there’s still so much more to uncover despite the fact that he could probably spend the rest of his life writing about his smile alone so he nods instead, reassured at the thought that their future has a possibility.
And they continue the rest of the night with what sparked their relationship, a plate of delicious food, longing gazes, and conversations with sugar-dipped tongues.
By the time midnight struck, it was already clear that Wei Wuxian would not be heading to their home tonight and Jiang Cheng let him stay the night, much to Xichen’s enthusiasm.
“If you need anything just call me.” Jiang Cheng says, hand already wrapped around the handle.
Xichen’s eyes follow Jiang Cheng’s mouth as he speaks and when he looks at him, his eyes glaze over, distracted. “Jiang Cheng?”
“Mn?”
“I need something.”
“What is it?” Jiang Cheng’s instincts were telling him something would happen and he instinctively backed up the door, hitting the cold wood. He follows Xichen’s almost hungry gaze down to his own lips and feels a pair of arms wrap around his waist, pulling him close enough to share their warmth and Xichen’s lips feel hot despite the mintiness of the toothpaste, Jiang Cheng holds on tightly to his shirt.
Just one kiss leaves him almost breathless when they part and somehow the atmosphere has shifted into a tight, tingly warmth, both unable to tear away their gaze.
“At least one, for tonight.” Xichen’s touch lingers on his waist loosely and Jiang Cheng nods, biting his lip.
“Alright.” He agrees, masking the fact that he does want something more but they have so many things to do tomorrow so he reluctantly swings open the door and smiles. “Guest room, sorry. It hasn’t been used in a while and there’s barely anything inside but it’s clean.”
Xichen chuckles, tucking a stray strand of hair behind Jiang Cheng’s hair. “It’s alright. Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Mn.” Tomorrow. Jiang Cheng liked that word.
“Goodnight, then.”
“Goodnight.”
Jiang Cheng didn’t think that waking up at 7 a.m in the morning meant that all things that happened before the said time would be discovered by a man who wakes up at 5 in the morning— the particular secret being Jiang Cheng’s stress-baking adventures and the evidence he had left with the ungodly number of muffins in the fridge.
“I assumed this was a usual occurrence.” Is what Lan Xichen said before he promptly discovered the batch of cookies, the bread, the dinner rolls, and the whole cake stuffed into another fridge which was not so very usual. All he said though, was “You were on quite a roll .” Before dismissing the conversation, leaving Jiang Cheng to his own devices.
Xichen however, was kind enough to prepare coffee for the both of them claiming it was the only machine he knew how to work well and he just spent the rest of the morning answering emails. Both of them were set to go back to work today and Wei Wuxian had already volunteered to help in the morning allowing Jiang Cheng to come in a bit later.
The rain from last night felt like some kind of dream as the sun shone brightly today, not even leaving a trace of a puddle outside.
Xichen picks up his things and thanks Jiang Cheng for last night and leans down to press a few quick pecks on his lips, unbeknownst to its addictive properties.
And it’s a few minutes later that Xichen has Jiang Cheng sitting on his lap with his tongue in Jiang Cheng;s mouth and his hands roaming around his waist. He isn’t sure how they got here really, the last thing he remembers is Jiang Cheng waving him goodbye and now they’ve somehow ended up here.
He really can’t help how sweet Jiang Cheng tastes, pressing his mouth onto every inch of his hot skin, slowly tracing kisses along his jaw then sucking on his neck, intoxicated by the short pants Jiang Cheng breathes out along with the occasional moan.
The both of them are extremely dedicated to their work and they both know it, but somehow, he's scared of how he doesn’t mind today being an exception, fearing Jiang Cheng may be a bit more than he can take. But all of his rationality jumps out the window once he feels Jiang Cheng's hands roam on his chest and Xichen silently turns his phone off before another ring comes.
