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“Uncle?” Jin Ling uses his key to open the door, since his hundred or so knocks have gone unanswered. This is probably better anyway, since Jiang Cheng hates when he knocks. He usually gives Jin Ling a guilt trip about not being comfortable enough to let himself into his own home, a habit he had adopted last year when he started feeling grown up. “Uncle, hello?”
Loud clattering and muffled cursing lead Jin Ling into his Uncle’s kitchen, although he has spent so much of his life in this man’s home, for all intents and purposes it is his kitchen too. Perching on one of the barstools, still unnoticed by Jiang Cheng, Jin Ling sits and observes the chaos.
“Where the f...oh I see. Why the hell didn’t I just… tch, whatever.” Jiang Cheng mumbles under his breath as he hip checks the oven door closed. He spins around, using his slightly unmussed wrist to brush the hair out of his eyes, then wiping his palms on his ‘Don’t you dare kiss the cook!’ apron. Turning back once more with a derisive snort, he sets the timer on the microwave. “Now where was I?”
Jin Ling glances around at the kitchen disaster, unusual in that Jiang Cheng hasn’t already started cleaning as he goes, not in that there is a mess in the first place. His uncle causes quite a lovely ruckus when he cooks. Or bakes, Jin Ling muses as he appreciatively sniffs the air, wondering what inspired Jiang Cheng to make a dessert on a Thursday - the middle of the week, a work and school night for them both. He had only learned this level of loud, frenzied cooking isn’t typical when watching numerous other caregivers (mothers, Jin Ling thinks with a pang) as they tidily and calmly prepare a family meal.
Currently, the dark counters are coated in a variety of white substances, which Jin Ling assumes are flour and sugar, although he’s not certain why they’ve turned into a paste. He spies the empty egg carton with multiple cracked shells and gets his answer. The sink has a variety of used bowls, whisks, and spatulas, currently soaking in preparation for their next task. He looks back towards Jiang Cheng, only to find his uncle frowning at him.
“Oh, are you back to treating this as your home?” Jiang Cheng inquires, tone irritated, but still laced with a fondness Jin Ling has figured out how to hear over the years. His uncle has been more easily agitated over the past few weeks, and still Jin Ling can’t help but throw a barb back in his direction.
Jin Ling scowls. The nerve of this man, seriously. Maybe he’s getting too old to properly hear. “Actually I knocked, but you didn’t answer, Uncle. So I let myself in.”
The words sound too harsh and borderline disrespectful. Mercifully, Jiang Cheng doesn’t seem bothered beyond one overly patient eye roll, already distracted by the ding of the timer. He grabs a toothpick and hot pads, and yanks open the oven door, grumbling the entire time. “Better be ready this time. I’ve had just about enough waiting for your moist, underdone ass to be fucking springy in the center.”
“What’s the rush?” Jin Ling hops off his stool to go check out the cake. Confetti! This is his favorite cake flavor, even though it’s a childish preference and he’s nearly sixteen. Oh. Jin Ling tugs his phone out of his back pocket and wakes the screen. November 21st.
Jiang Cheng stares at Jin Ling, face pulled into a grimace that almost seems guilty. “I got home late from the firm, but I wanted this to be done by the time you got here. I was hoping Archery would run long.”
“But why?” Jin Ling tilts his head in feigned confusion, jamming his phone back into his pocket. He opens a drawer and pulls out a wire rack, setting it on a slightly less filthy part of the island. Jiang Cheng picks up the hot pads and slides the cake out of the oven, placing it gently on the rack to cool.
Before answering Jin Ling, Jiang Cheng moves to the sink, emptying one of the mixing bowls and starting to wash it. Silently, Jin Ling nudges his uncle’s leg out of the way of the lower door, bending down into the cabinet under the sink for the canister of antibacterial wipes.
“You don’t have to clean!” Jiang Cheng scolds, as though he’s not constantly harping on Jin Ling to pull his weight, that the world will not be handed to him, that everything he desires will have to be hard-won. “Not on your-”
Jin Ling scoffs when his uncle cuts himself off. At least someone remembered. Jin Ling allows the uncharitable thought for a moment, before he shakes it off. Surely Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi were far too preoccupied today to bear in mind his birthday. Best friends are allowed to forget special days, it happens. Wait, Ouyang Zizhen too? That dude forgets no important details ever, in fact, doesn’t he keep a tiny notebook for tracking everyone’s birthdays?
“On my what, Uncle?” Jin Ling forces back his irritation and swipes across the counters. He grabs the egg carton, crushes it in his hand, and pushes it into the garbage can. He plants his hands on his hips and glares down at the trash, as though it has offended him.
With a sigh, Jiang Cheng hand dries the silver mixing bowl. “Jin Ling, I wanted to bake you a cake for tonight, something small. I’ve got an order placed for dinner from your favorite restaurant, but…”
It is highly unusual for Jiang Cheng to be this scattered when talking to Jin Ling. A swell of panic rises within him, a deeply unsettling wave that things are not okay. Perhaps that’s why even his uncle had not remembered his birthday this morning, not preparing him the usual celebratory breakfast. “Uncle, are you alright? Are you sick? Are you not feeling well, is that why you’ve been so crabby the last month?”
“What? I have not been extra cranky!” Jiang Cheng grasps Jin Ling’s encroaching wrist just as he is reaching out to feel his uncle’s forehead. “Okay maybe I have, but I’m absolutely fine, or at least, I would be if this cake would cooperate with my limited time table. Jin Ling, if I continue I’m going to ruin the surprise.”
“What surprise?” Jin Ling frowns, wracking his brain for details on whatever event his uncle is referencing.
“Your friends begged me to go in on a secret.” Jiang Cheng draws a deep breath and releases it slowly, which Jin Ling recognizes as his first bid for temper control. He suspects any fleeting ire is not directed at him. “I knew you’d react with grim acceptance once you figured out everyone forgot. Or rather, didn’t forget, not really. Jin Ling, they all remembered today is your birthday, but are planning a surprise party for this Saturday night. They’ve been working on it for weeks. They are going to pretend they’ve forgotten until the party. I was supposed to as well.”
Jin Ling raises his eyebrows in confusion, as he gestures around the kitchen, finger pointing accusingly at the cake. “But then why all this? That’s clearly my favorite cake.”
“Because I cannot stand to see that look on your face, like you’re okay with being forgotten. I can’t do that to you.” Jiang Cheng smiles ruefully. “My birthday actually was forgotten one year. Your mother felt so badly about it, she made me soup and cookies every day, as soon as we got home from school. She kept that up for a whole week.”
“My mom forgot your birthday? Wait, Uncle Wei forgot your birthday?” Jin Ling is annoyed on Jiang Cheng’s behalf, however many years later. What the fuck? “But he loves birthdays and it’s not like yours is much later than his!”
“Your grandfather took Wei Ying on a special trip for his birthday, it was supposed to be all three of us but I was sick and couldn’t go with them. When they came back, they got the illness I had, and somehow in all of that mayhem, everyone kind of forgot about me.” Jiang Cheng waves off Jin Ling’s mounting frustration. “I’m not telling you so you feel sorry for me, I’m over it, water under the bridge. I’m telling you because I understand how you could have felt at being ignored and dismissed. I couldn’t let you think that you are unimportant, not for even two days.”
“Uncle,” murmurs Jin Ling, throat growing thick and tight with emotion. I’m too old to be crying like a baby! He scrubs the back of his hand viciously across his eyes. “I could’ve handled it. I’m not a child, and I’d have figured out on Saturday that no one meant any harm. It would all be okay.”
“But why force yourself to be okay when it’s in my power to make sure you actually are okay?” Jiang Cheng rests his hand on Jin Ling’s shoulder, large, warm, and comforting. “Plus, A-Ling, I’m sorry to be the one constantly reminding you of this, but you are, in fact, still a child.”
“I’m sixteen!” Jin Ling squirms out from under Jiang Cheng’s light hold. “ Practically an adult!”
“Practically is not the same as legally, and legally I am responsible for you.” Jiang Cheng groans when he presses his finger lightly onto the surface of the cake. “Why is this cursed cake still so goddamned hot?”
Determinedly ignoring tumultuous emotions, Jin Ling continues wiping off the counters, cleaning up Jiang Cheng’s baking mess. This is their natural rhythm - Jiang Cheng cooks their meals and Jin Ling tidies up after him. Behind him, his uncle opens the refrigerator and pulls out butter and heavy cream. Jin Ling takes the mixing bowl and secures it to the stand mixer, attaching the paddle for whipping. “What kind of frosting are you making?”
“Tch, it’ll be a surprise, have you no patience? Don’t you have homework you could be doing, like that World War II paper you’re supposed to have researched by now, and should have already started writing? Hmm? How far along are you on that?” With one arm in a cabinet while reaching for powdered sugar, Jiang Cheng pins Jin Ling with his eyes, like a cat toying with a mouse even though they are both aware of who has the upper hand. His uncle knows full well he hasn’t begun that paper yet, since Jin Ling had just complained about it last night.
“But Uncle, it’s my birthday,” whines Jin Ling, sounding at least a decade younger than his aforementioned age. “I shouldn’t have to do homework on my birthday.”
“You want to be an adult so badly, guess who goes into the office on most of his birthdays? Me. Guess who else works on most of their birthdays? Every other functional, productive adult. Except for your Uncle Wei, who I think takes that day off every damn year but he’s beside the point.” Jiang Cheng pours the heavy cream into the bowl and starts it whisking, beginning on low speed and gradually increasing the power until it sounds like the entire stand mixer might take flight. His uncle raises his voice to be heard over the din. “How about your Calculus assignment? Do you think math takes a vacation on your birthday? Hmm?”
Clicking his tongue in annoyance, Jin Ling tosses his wipes into the garbage. He stomps to the entryway where he had absentmindedly dropped his backpack, calling over his shoulder “Fine, I’ll go do my homework.”
Jin Ling returns to the now clean island, spreading out his Calculus book and opening his notebook. He digs in his bag for his mechanical pencils and graphing calculator. He doesn’t want to go to his room to work, even though it’s probably a significantly better study environment. He much prefers to stay in the company of his uncle, especially tonight. He doesn’t want to be alone.
As he loses himself to his studies, Jin Ling does not notice when the mixer stops churning together butter and sugar, the cake gets coaxed out of the pan, and the frosting gets carefully spread. He does not see Jiang Cheng quietly watch him work, lamenting that in a few short years his kitchen stool will sit empty, while he cooks for one in a quiet house. He does not hear the whispered prayer to his parents, apologizing for not being them.
“A-Ling.” Jiang Cheng comes to stand beside Jin Ling. In his hands is a slightly lopsided confetti cake, with sixteen candles burning brightly. His uncle’s gaze is even warmer than the flickering flames as he looks proudly at him. “Happy birthday.”