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Of all the gin joints, Jiang Cheng thinks, a bitter smile unfurling as he tracks the progress of the elegant couple making their way through the crowded restaurant toward his table. He’s about to stand, to head them off, when a hand catches his wrist.
“Don’t, my heart,” Xichen whispers. “Whatever you’re thinking, just don’t.”
Mingjue looks up from the wine list, follows Jiang Cheng’s gaze, and his expression turns hard.
“Let him, Xichen,” he says, setting the menu aside. “It’s his birthday.”
“And it won’t change anything,” Xichen replies calmly.
“No, but it will make them feel bad.”
“It really won’t,” Jiang Cheng says. He reaches for Mingjue with his free hand. “And it won’t make me feel better, either.” His smile softens as he looks from Mingjue to Xichen. “Damn, Dr. Lehmann is gonna be so proud of me when I tell her at our next appointment. Look at all this personal growth.” Still, his smile falters as his mother and father reach their table.
“Wanyin,” his mother says, offering a sharp nod of acknowledgement to Mingjue and Xichen.
So that’s how it’s going to be. Jiang Cheng counts to three. “Madame Yu. What a surprise. These trendy fusion places aren’t usually your scene.”
“A-Xian recommended this place to us,” Jiang Fengmian says. “He secured the reservations for tonight.”
“Did he?” Jiang Cheng forces out. Xichen squeezes his hand, and Mingjue places his hand surreptitiously on Jiang Cheng’s thigh. “What a coincidence.”
“Indeed,” his father goes on, oblivious to the waves of irritation and shame rolling off Jiang Cheng, as usual. “We had a free spot on our calendar, so we decided to enjoy an evening out.”
His empty smile catches Jiang Cheng like a physical blow. Jiang Cheng’s anger leaves him all at once, and sorrow from an apparently bottomless well rises in a tide that threatens to consume him.
“As were we,” Mingjue says, “for A-Cheng’s birthday.” He moves his hand to cup the back of Jiang Cheng’s neck and waits until Jiang Cheng meets his eyes. When he does, Mingjue dips his head and takes a kiss, ignoring Madam Yu’s sharp inhale.
“We heard it was an ideal place for intimate gatherings,” Xichen adds, “but perhaps we were mistaken.” He grins at Jiang Fengmian before tugging at Jiang Cheng’s sleeve for attention. His kiss is far less gentle than Mingjue’s, and Jiang Cheng gasps when Xichen finally breaks away. Xichen, the shameless bastard, takes another kiss before he levels a smug glare at Jiang Cheng’s parents. “My love,” he says to Mingjue, “would you kindly get our jackets while I settle the bill?” He looks back at Jiang Cheng and winks. “Don’t let us keep you any longer,” he says as Jiang Fengmian gapes at them and Madame Yu’s pursed lips press into a thin line. “We have a long evening ahead of us and should be going.”
Jiang Cheng can’t bring himself to watch his parents walk away from them — it’s a familiar enough sight, and he’d rather kiss his lovers once more.
They walk out of the restaurant, Jiang Cheng safely anchored between Xichen and Mingjue, and do not so much as glance back at the corner table where Jiang Cheng’s parents sit.
“I’m so sorry you had to sit through that,” Xichen whispers as they settle into the back seat of Mingjue’s car.
Jiang Cheng grins. “Are you kidding? That’s the best family birthday I’ve had in years.” He kisses first Xichen’s hand and then leans forward to drop a kiss on Mingjue’s shoulder. “But I’d very much like to see you try and make me forget it.”
“Say no more,” Mingjue says, easing into traffic, heading for home.