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Lan Sizhui finally spots the person he’s been looking for all afternoon, down by the lakeshore in Caiyi Town. Shaking his head in exasperation, though maintaining a controlled expression, he strides over to his favorite sect peer. He has a debt he owes Lan Jingyi after losing a bet to him on their last night hunt. While gambling is one of the earliest and most easily remembered rules on the impressive list of banned behavior at GusuLan, Jingyi had convinced him to participate.
Three rises of the moon have passed since Jingyi crowed and whooped his victory all the way home from Lanling after dropping Jin Ling back at Koi Tower.
“I thought for sure Young Mistress would lose! That’s who I wanted to force into hugging me, just to see his prissy face blush bright red in humiliation. I never thought it’d be you, but that’s almost as good!” Jingyi laughed and held his sides and leaned on Sizhui for support after they dismounted from their swords to finish their trek into the Cloud Recesses.
“Shhh,” Sizhui hissed as they skulked through the hallways. “It’s late and everyone is sleeping. We don’t want to run into-”
“Well, well, who’s this making all the noise?” Wei Wuxian leaned against the doorway of the Jingshi, arms crossed and smirking at them as they slinked past, halting them mid-step.
“S-Senior Wei,” stammered Sizhui, noticing the disheveled state of Wei Wuxian’s robes. “We are just returning from the night hunt and escorting Jin Ling home. We’re deeply sorry for disturbing your...rest, and hope we haven’t woken HanGuang-Jun.” He tugged on Jingyi’s sleeve, hoping he would remain quiet so this awkward conversation would end promptly.
Instead, Jingyi took that as his cue. “It takes a long time to get back and forth from Lanling to Gusu, Senior Wei.”
Wei Wuxian’s laugh filled the hallway, unrestrained despite the late hour. “Excuses for your tardiness? I’m certain fibbing is prohibited in the Cloud Recesses. No matter though! If you two scurry to bed, I’ll pretend I didn’t see either of you sneaking through the hallways after spending the night with the illustrious leader of the Jin sect.”
“Thank you, Senior Wei,” mumbled Sizhui, cheeks heating up against his control. “Goodnight.” Just as he began to turn away, the sound of his friend froze him in place.
“Illustrious sect leader?!” Jingyi’s voice boomed like a cannon in the stillness of the hallway. “Please. You make it sound like we were trying to improve relations between the Jins and the Lans or something! It’s just Jin Ling and we were only bringing him home so that Sizh-”
“Jingyi.” Sizhui gritted the name through his teeth, a rare interruption in an attempt to save face, although a discrete glance at Wei Wuxian told him the damage had already been done.
A soft hand landed on Sizhui’s shoulder as an overly concerned gaze hit his face. “What’s this? Anything you want to tell me, A-Yuan? You know you can speak freely with me. I’ll try to help and won’t judge you at all. Bottling up your emotions isn’t healthy.” Wei Wuxian leaned close to his ear and whispered. “You can come to me or your father anytime, especially if you need boy advice. Lan Zhan is really good at everyday activities so I’m sure he can give you excellent tips on-”
“Goodnight, Senior Wei!” Face on fire, Sizhui ducked away from Wei Wuxian’s hold, offering a sloppy salute, before grabbing Jingyi’s sleeve, breaking more rules as he practically sprinted down the hallway to his quarters.
Walking as quietly as he possibly can, Sizhui approaches the oddly still and silent Lan clan member. Usually Sizhui recognizes him instantly in a sea of stoic white based on volume and fidgeting alone. A smile stretches his mouth wide as he nears Jingyi, ready to see his friend jump and flail and say something utterly ridiculous as loud as he possibly can. Practically on tiptoes the last few steps, Sizhui nestles in as closely as he dares, and throws his arms around Jingyi from behind-
A shriek and a shove later, Sizhui sprawls on the ground, pulling a long black hair out of his mouth that had gotten there when a long ponytail whipped around into his face. He stares up in horror, cheeks burning hot and mouth hanging open, though he cannot summon the strength to actually communicate.
“What are you doing?” Jin Ling hisses, face nearly matching the vermillion mark he bears on his forehead. “Well?
Sizhui finds his voice after a beat, still cowering safely on the ground, though he’s not sure why he’s afraid of Jin Ling’s ire. He’s sweet and generous and gentle, and he thinks Fairy has a worse bite than this boy ever could. “I thought you were Jingyi.”
“What?” Jin Ling screeches and Sizhui realizes he is getting the volume he thought he’d get, just from entirely the wrong person. This is not how hugging Jin Ling for the first time should have gone. As soon as Sizhui ponders the missed opportunity of more intentional contact, his face heats up impossibly more. Jin Ling crosses his arms petulantly. “So you came down to the pier looking for Jingyi? Tch, I should have known, you two spend so much time together up in the Cloud Recesses.”
“No, it’s not like that,” argues Sizhui vehemently. “We’re brothers, or at least it feels like it most of the time. I just lost a bet, that’s all.”
Jin Ling peers down at him, looking intrigued. “Oh? What kind of bet did you lose?”
Sizhui is fairly convinced his body temperature will be permanently raised by a few degrees at this point. He feels the sweat beading along his forehead and it takes all his Lan self-control to not wipe it away with his sleeve. “Jingyi dared me to tell Senior Wei and HanGuang-Jun that they’re too disruptive in the evenings.”
“What do you mean?” Jin Ling inquires, genuine curiosity painted across his delicate features, as he extends a hand in order to assist Sizhui back to his feet. “I can’t believe HanGuang-Jun is loud doing anything.”
Sizhui sighs with the weight of a thousand pounds on his shoulders. “You know, when they do things...together? Late at night? In the Jingshi?”
Jin Ling shrugs and shakes his head. “Seriously, Sizhui, just say it. Why couldn’t you simply ask them to keep it down?”
“Jin-gongzi, please. Can you trust me that it’s an embarrassing thing to ask and leave it at that? All that matters is I thought I would be able to do it, if I simply thought of it as a family meeting of sorts, but that actually made it worse.” Sizhui desperately needs to stop talking about how he had lost the bet in the first place, so he grasps at the first conversational thread that occurs to him.
“So why are you in Lan sect robes?”
Jin Ling stares at him in mild horror, expressions flitting over his face so quickly Sizhui cannot discern them all. He mumbles something so quickly and quietly Sizhui leans forward far enough that he clutches onto a pristine white sleeve for balance. Jin Ling gapes at him before ripping his arm away, which sends a small stab of hurt through Sizhui, a sharp twinge right below his rib cage. He forces a shaky smile on his face and steps back into his own space, waving off the inquiry.
“It’s alright, you don’t need to explain.” Sizhui bites his bottom lip and glances over Jin Ling’s shoulder, out over the water, just to distract himself from the clenching in his gut that urges him to run away as fast as he can back towards the privacy of his room in order to lick his wounds. He would rather be recalling the fluttery feeling he got when he had realized his arms were embracing Jin Ling for the first time on a starlit pier in Caiyi Town.
Jin Ling scuffs his boot into the dock and glares at the wooden slats like they have personally offended him. “I lost a bet too.”
Sizhui peeks back at the other boy, fascinated. “Ah. So we’re both losers tonight.”
Jin Ling opens his mouth like he wants to debate that point, except then he snaps it shut just as swiftly, face twisted as though he just ingested spoiled food. “I guess.”
“Who did you lose a bet to?” Sizhui is glad they’re still talking, even though he feels as though they teeter on the brink of something, a fall awaiting their very next step if they do not tread cautiously.
“Well,” begins Jin Ling. “Technically, I also lost to Jingyi, but he’s not the one who came up with this idea.” He fingers the edge of the light blue lapel of his robes, gesturing with the fabric.
Sizhui’s mouth drops open. “Jingyi let someone else pick what you had to do? That does not sound like the disciple I grew up with. Who in the gods names did he allow to choose your task?”
Jin Ling tips his head down and whispers. “HanGuang-Jun.”
“I’m sorry, Jin-gongzi, it sounded like you just said HanGuang-Jun was aware that you and Jingyi were gambling and proposed that you wear Lan sect robes?” Sizhui almost wants to laugh at the absurdity of that claim, except he cannot fathom why Jin Ling would imagine this up.
“It’s true,” pouts Jin Ling, arms back up defensively, tightly crossed against his chest. “And then Uncle Wei suggested I come here to this exact place, at this exact time, and wait. Something about being out in public making the idea of me wearing robes a better punishment for losing.”
Something tickles the edge of Sizhui’s brain, not altogether unpleasant but reeking of meddlesome family. “So my parents are the ones who came up with this entire idea? And Jingyi just accepted whatever they said?”
The other boy lifts his shoulders in mild confusion. “Yes, that’s basically it. Although, what’s with calling them your parents. You never do that, even when they aren’t around. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Sizhui waves his hand, wanting to end the gambling debt discussion, in need of promptly returning to the Cloud Recesses in order to have an urgent discussion with two beloved but intrusive seniors. “Listen, I should probably get back-”
“I’m coming with you.” Jin Ling tosses him an incredulous look, like he cannot believe Sizhui is stupid enough to consider leaving him on the pier like this. “I need to return these robes to Jingyi.”
“Oh is that why they look so big on you?” Sizhui nods in understanding, while Jin Ling squawks indignantly and elbows him in the side.
“I’m not that small!”
“I certainly hope you’re not full grown yet, tiny Ling-er.”
They snicker and wrestle with each other for a few moments, before mounting their swords and retreating to Gusu.
They part ways once they are inside the main entry, Jin Ling heading to the disciples quarters, Sizhui turning towards the Jingshi. It’s late, but hopefully he isn’t intruding, although a little, petty part of him wants to intrude.
The door is answered shortly after he knocks. Lan Wangji peers down at him with a diminutive yet tender smile, welcoming him inside the illustrious space. Sizhui salutes and enters. Wei Wuxian leaps off the bed where he had been reclining and reading, bounding over to embrace Sizhui.
“A-Yuan! It’s so late, is everything alright? Do you need something?” Wei Wuxian fusses over him and he basks in the affection before recalling why he came here on the brink of bedtime.
Sizhui takes a deep breath to settle his nerves, pinning both men with the fiercest scowl he can manage towards this pair of revered seniors, his parents. “You both know Jingyi and I meet up on a certain pier in Caiyi Town every two weeks on Friday.”
Lan Wangji looks as impassive as ever, though possibly a little smug, but Wei Wuxian is glowing, fit to burst with pride. “Aha! So it already happened!”
“Wait, what? You set this up on purpose? It was completely humiliating. I thought it was Jingyi,” complains Sizhui, ignoring the snorted interjection that he was supposed to think that. “I wanted my first hug with Jin Ling to be more special and not while he was facing the other direction because I would have liked to see his face. He doesn’t even like me anyway. Wait, how did you know I like him?” This much chattering is surely not permitted in the Cloud Recesses, so it is definitely time to rein this conversation in and stop babbling at his parents, who are clearly menaces when armed with too much information.
Lan Wangji places his hand on Sizhui’s shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze. “Did you enjoy seeing Jin Ling in Lan robes?”
“Ahh!” Sizhui never needs to wonder how these two men live with each other, since not only are they disgustingly in love and perfectly suited to each other, but they seem to share one brain. His face feels extremely hot again and he’s certain his cheeks are flushed.
“Yes?” Lan Wangji pushes once more and Sizhui cannot help the miniscule nod he gives in reply.
“Yes, I actually really liked that.” Sizhui’s shoulders sag and he isn’t sure if it’s in relief or shame, but the loosening of tension is good. “That was kind of a fun thing he had to do for losing a bet. I wonder if he hated it.”
“I doubt it,” chuckles Wei Wuxian with an alarming twinkle in his eye. “I think he likes Lan robes. Although, I think he really likes one particular set of Lan robes.”
Lan Wangji frowns slightly, gazing at Wei Wuxian in puzzlement. “It is not the robes.”
“Oh Lan Zhan! Hahaha, I know that!” Wei Wuxian bends over in peals of laughter, clutching his sides. “Sizhui could be wearing a potato sack and Jin Ling would still stare after him with that dopey-eyed expression he always gets on his face.”
Sizhui snaps his head over to Wei Wuxian, unsure if he heard that last part correctly. “What? What expression?”
Lan Wangji nods back at him in agreement. “Mm.”
“A-Yuan, you must have noticed his face by now!”
Sizhui’s breathing is getting noticeably shallower the longer this discussion carries on. “Yes, I’ve noticed his face, Senior Wei.”
Wei Wuxian grasps Sizhui’s hand, tugging him in close and wrapping him up in a hug that reminds him of warm summer days spent soaking up sunshine. It’s relaxing and allows him to breathe again. “A-Yuan, we weren’t trying to embarrass you. It just seemed like maybe you both wanted a little time together so we thought we’d help. I’m very sorry for making you uncomfortable and I don’t want Jin Ling uncomfortable either. Did I misinterpret things?”
Sizhui blushes for what seems like the hundredth time that evening, clenching his fists in anticipation of a confession to the wrong individual, though mesmerized by the accepting and tender face of Wei Wuxian, he longs to talk about it first. “No. I...you interpreted it exactly right, at least from my perspective.”
“You like young Jin Ling.” Lan Wangji’s abrupt summary causes Sizhui’s stomach to swoop like a too-rapid descent on his sword. He nods in reply, taken right back to the pier when his arms had actually held Jin Ling for a split second.
Wei Wuxian puts a hand lightly on his arm and Sizhui glances up. “He’s here returning the robes, I imagine. Why don’t you go spend some time with him and enjoy yourself, instead of being frustrated with us and cooped up in here.”
“What if…” Sizhui halts, unwilling to voice his doubts out loud.
“You do not have anything to fear,” promises Lan Wangji with a small encouraging smile, a fond expression reserved solely for him, Sizhui has noticed.
“Okay, then. I’m going to go find Jin Ling. We’ll...talk, and then I’ll set him up in a guest room so he isn’t traveling too late.” Sizhui swallows with difficulty and fidgets with his forehead ribbon as he retreats, both his parents gazing at him proudly. “Goodnight.”
He isn’t sure if the trek towards Jingyi’s room is longer or shorter or exactly the same, yet he’s at the door much sooner than his racing heart can handle. Perhaps Jin Ling has already departed, escorted by Jingyi, so there will be no answer to the three light raps he gives the door. A wave of disappointment washes over him at the thought of not seeing Jin Ling again this evening. The seed planted by his parents wriggles inside him, pushing up against him in a bid for freedom.
There is no response from inside Jingyi’s room, so Sizhui breaks yet another rule and opens the door to someone else’s room. He peeks inside, and his heart sinks to his feet when he finds the space devoid of either of his friends. With a sigh Sizhui backs out of the room, closing the door quietly, and shuffles the short distance to his own quarters.
When he walks in, the two people he had been seeking are waiting for him, Jingyi shamelessly lounging on the bed, while Jin Ling, back in the golden robes of his clan, hovers awkwardly by the desk, wringing his hands. Sizhui notes that as soon as the other boy notices him, his arms snap up to their usual tight and protective crossed position.
“Sizhui!” Jingyi yelps, cringing at his own voice. “Jin Ling was just about to head home.”
“Tch,” scoffs Jin Ling, glowering at Jingyi. “Why are you shouting? Isn’t that against the rules here?”
Sizhui walks hesitantly over towards his desk, reaching out to place a calming hand on Jin Ling’s arm, but aborting his movement halfway there, instead randomly readjusting some papers on his desktop. He peeks up and sees narrowed brown eyes staring at him intently. Sizhui loses himself briefly, musing on the exact shade of molten bronze that captures his attention, before Jingyi clears his throat.
“Actually,” Sizhui begins, creasing the corner of one of his essays, aware he will now have to rewrite that one on a clean sheet of paper. “I was...hoping to speak with you, Jin-gongzi. Perhaps we can take a short walk down to the gardens?”
Jin Ling’s arms twitch against his chest and his expression softens in surprise before he mutters an answer. “It’s getting awfully late for you Lan people, but I guess that’s fine.”
Sizhui smiles, the seed bouncing around inside of him in delight, rattling against his stomach walls and making him slightly light-headed. He gestures towards the door. “After you.” When Jin Ling begins to move, Sizhui follows, shooting a furtive glance over his shoulder at the young matchmaker who still deserves a piece of his mind. Jingyi beams at him, giving him an enthusiastic thumbs up, and Sizhui isn’t sure if he wants to beat his fellow sect disciple over the head or cling to him for protection.
Sizhui heaves a calming breath and walks out of his room.
As the two boys wind their way through the Cloud Recesses, a quiet, unhurried conversation unfolds, ranging in topics and atmosphere. As they approach the flower gardens, Jin Ling laments the heavy pressure he feels in restoring the pride to LanlingJin, growling about the burden he shoulders and how he longs to stop obsessing over it. As they take a seat together on a stone bench looking out over the magnolias, Sizhui shares the most recent amusing anecdotes from tending to Lan Wangji’s rabbits. When he describes one particular bunny scrabbling around inside his robes, Jin Ling releases a hearty laugh, eyes closed and head thrown back, and Sizhui marvels at the rare uninhibited and mirthful sight. He forces himself to look away before he can be caught ogling.
“Thank you for asking me out on a walk. I really enjoy...walking.” Jin Ling murmurs after he calms down, his voice a melody Sizhui craves to hear more often, and wishes he could learn to play on his guqin. He gets lost in thought as silence stretches between them. “D-do you?”
Now that they are sitting quietly and the natural conversation feels exhausted, Sizhui’s mind can no longer ignore the reason he had asked the other boy out to the gardens in the first place. He glances up at the moon, shining high and bright above them, not quite full, but still round and full of promise. He startles when he hears the question.
“Do I like to take walks? I do, especially when it’s so serene out here, just the flowers and stars. Sometimes I walk down here by myself, even if it’s after curfew. Senior Wei is aware that I come out here, and every now and then he joins me.” Sizhui shrugs and lifts his head, gazing back up at the vast expanse of night sky, convinced he sees his courage floating away in fleeting wisps.
“I bet it’s not so silent when he’s out here with you,” jokes Jin Ling, shifting next to him, close enough that their fingers brush. Sizhui jerks his head down, goggling at Jin Ling. He chides himself internally, as his well-developed sense of restraint flees him yet again, this boy’s presence shaking his composure from the inside out. Jin Ling frowns down at their hands, biting his pouty bottom lip, and slides his finger away from Sizhui.
Sizhui wants it back.
“Jin-gongzi. Do you ever...have you ever thought...I think I…” Sizhui gets more flustered the longer incoherent words and incomplete confessions spill out from his mouth. He heaves a lungful of air and lets it out slowly, gathering all his emotional resolve. His chest is tight and there’s a buzzing in his head - they are back on the edge of that cliff, except Sizhui is more certain than before that the fall will be swift and painless.
Jin Ling glances over sharply, brows furrowed in concern, shoulders hunching as if awaiting a blow he doesn’t think he can bear. “What is it? Are you alright?”
Sizhui gulps, and suddenly removing that pinched, pained expression from the other boy’s face becomes more important than his own cowardice. He senses himself relax and he grins over at Jin Ling, as he shifts his body closer to him, angling himself so they face one another. He yearns to seize Jin Ling’s hands and clutch them for strength, but instead he calmly folds his own into his lap. “I’m fine. I think I’m better than fine. I...Jin Ling, I really...I really like you.”
Seconds, minutes, hours - it doesn’t particularly matter as time ceases to exist for Lan Sizhui in the face of Jin Ling’s reaction. His hands bunch in his robes and the tension mounts in the air around them. Sizhui feels the stifling weight of self-consciousness press down on him, and he pulls back, hyper aware of every part of his body as the hammer hovers above him.
Jin Ling sighs and starts chuckling, and for the briefest of moments, Sizhui wishes to borrow Chenqing merely to see what happens. “How are you so brave?”
Sizhui stares at Jin Ling, reeling over words that seem to come out of nowhere. The moonlight bathes the young sect leader in an ethereal glow, his hair shining, the golden details of his robes glimmering, and yet, it is his face that most captures Sizhui’s attention - it’s positively radiant. His typically petulant mouth stretches instead into a lopsided smile, liquid eyes gazing back at him fondly, as though the Lan disciple is something to be marveled.
“What? Brave?”
“Sizhui, I’ve wanted to say something like that to you for weeks now, except every time I look at you I lose my nerve. And then I notice HanGuang-Jun looming somewhere nearby and I think he’ll kill me for even noticing you.” Jin Ling’s face is as open and as relaxed as he’s ever seen it, and he finds it even more captivating than usual as the sharp edges and harsh lines soften. Sizhui admires the charm and prettiness of Jin Ling.
Sizhui bursts out into laughter, this time not quelling his urge to grab for Jin Ling’s hands, grasping them firmly between his own. “I think you’re underestimating Senior Wei.”
“No,” Jin Ling argues solemnly. “My uncles would cancel each other out in this matter. Mutual destruction. It’s HanGuang-Jun that’s the wild card. Sizhui, he could annihilate me.”
“But he won’t because you’re perfect.” Sizhui states as a matter of fact before registering that he has just shared an idle musing best saved for no one alive to hear, least of all its subject. He starts to tug his hands free, but Jin Ling laces their fingers together instead and holds on tightly.
“Not really.”
“No, maybe not, but I know you’re closer than you think you are.” Sizhui is certain he is about to ascend out of his body soon, if his jackhammering heart is anything to go by. He cannot seem to stop saying exactly what he thinks with no self-control, no filter. He shakes his head when he considers that people gossip about how Jingyi is the unLan-like one.
Jin Ling tilts his head and lowers his chin, peering up at Sizhui through his unfairly long and delicate eyelashes, and Sizhui has a desire to lightly run his thumb over them just to watch them fan back out. “You don’t have to say such nice things to me. People flatter me all the time to my face, because I have money, because I’m a sect leader, because I’m related to powerful individuals. Then they gossip behind my back like I won’t ever hear the things they say about me or my family. I don’t need to hear-”
“Jin Ling, listen to me.” Sizhui untangles one of his hands and lifts it to cup one of Jin Ling’s smooth, cool cheeks. “I don’t say anything I don’t mean, you should know that by now. I think you are talented and strong and capable. You’ll be an amazing sect leader someday because you are already an amazing person.”
“Not as amazing as you,” murmurs Jin Ling, leaning into Sizhui’s hand, though his face is now warm to the touch and an endearing shade of pink. Sizhui, gripped by an impulse that overpowers everything else, tips his head closer to press his lips against Jin Ling’s other cheek. Everything feels too hot, and he isn’t sure if it’s him or Jin Ling, but the seed inside of him that had been wiggling around in his gut is now jumping up into his throat and then somersaulting back down. Sizhui believes it’s the most incredible rush of feelings he’s ever experienced.
Sizhui gulps down his regret and realizes he can’t feel his fingers. “A-Ling, I-” He is cut off by a soft mouth pushing against his, a little too hard, as Jin Ling’s teeth clack against his own. He feels the other boy pulling away in likely horror, so he uses the hand still holding his face to guide him back forward, more slowly. Sizhui pecks a chaste kiss on Jin Ling’s lips, and pats the now burning cheek, gnawing on his own lip to keep from diving right back in for more.
Jin Ling grimaces as he lifts his chin, and Sizhui recognizes the snooty, self-defensive mask as it begins to slip on, hiding the big-hearted, gracious individual underneath.
Sizhui bows his head forward, resting it gently against Jin Ling’s, relieved that his feels a little damp as well. “That was nice. I liked it.”
“Really? It was clumsy and pretty obvious that I don’t know what I’m doing. It’s probably because I’m not some cutsleeve who’ll go around kissing anybody who-” Sizhui cuts him off before he can continue down a path of defensive vitriol he might regret.
“Jin Ling.” Foreheads touching, fingers intertwined, pulses racing in a heady, youthful gallop, and Sizhui smiles because it’s everything he wants with this boy, with this person. “Do you like me?”
“Yes,” breathes out Jin Ling with no hesitation.
Sizhui senses the moment the seed settles before burying itself deeply within him, taking root and readying itself for sunlight, water, air. This will surely grow if it is nurtured and allowed to push out from the soil and stretch upwards, showcasing sturdy leaves and attractive flowers. “Then don’t worry about those details or names or labels. I’m just me, just Lan Yuan, and you’re Jin Ling. I like you, and you like me, and that’s really all that matters. Right?”
Jin Ling nods, the thin skin of their foreheads rubbing together at the movement. “Plus I can think of three cultivators who’ll obliterate anyone who dares say anything about either one of us.”
Sizhui chuckles, the relief of everything making him giddy and a little reckless. “Four, if you count my uncle, plus my cousin might get to them first.”
Jin Ling chokes on air, squeezing Sizhui’s hands a little too hard. Just as Sizhui is about to apologize, Jin Ling nods again. “The Ghost General is definitely a good friend to have. I’m glad he’s one of mine.” Sizhui isn’t aware he longed to hear Jin Ling approve of the more unknown member of his unorthodox family, but a jagged piece inside of him falls into place as the words leave the other boy’s mouth. He bends forward to kiss Jin Ling again, this time unhurried, easier, sweeter.
Eventually, they pull apart, returning to their original positions on the garden bench, side-by-side, only now they nestle snugly against one another, still holding hands, fingers tangled together. Sizhui closes his eyes in contentment, excited to grow and flourish with Jin Ling - he is certain it will be beautiful as they bloom together.