Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

There’s three cemented, fundamental, indisputable aspects that make up Jiang Cheng’s brother.

One: Wei Ying is the strangest fucking person he’s ever met, and he highly doubts that his brother will ever submit that title to anyone else.

Two: His brother is fearless. Except for his strong and unrelenting fear of dogs for reasons Jiang Cheng doesn’t know beyond vague mentions of bad childhood experience. That's the only true thing in the world that rattles Wei Ying -- the one person who would walk across railroad tracks with an oncoming train wearing a carefree grin without a worry in his empty head.

Three: His brother likes spicy food above all else. Not that he’s snobbish or would turn down a free meal, but he makes faces and complains at length if his meals aren’t up to his specific taste standards.

In broad terms, Wei Ying is impulsive and unpredictable on his best days. Case in point: his brother’s (extreme) lack of shame, which led to such incidents like That Time Wei Ying Wore His Clothes Completely Inside Out To A High School Final Exam On A Dare, That Time He Got Arrested For Public Indecency At A Student Rally, and That One Time They Went Ghost Hunting Around The Pier And The Ensuing Events That Were Mutually Agreed Never To Be Brought Up Again.

Jiang Cheng unfortunately played his own part in those shameful incidents, usually unwillingly, but he can testify that his brother is nothing if not daring. He’s extremely frustrating in that way but after so many years living together he’s accustomed to his brother’s stupid pranks and his tendency to run his mouth.

Wei Ying is an acquired taste for most people, to say the least.

That’s the brother he knows. Wei Ying is all of those things, but Jiang Cheng can reliably count on his brother’s constant behavior involving food. In all the ways his brother might be spontaneous, often unpredictable, and a chaos-starter he’s also rather predictable to Jiang Cheng.

(Or so he thought. Until tonight.)

Wei Ying stumbled into his life at seven years old; blinking back tears and grief and engraving himself into Jiang Cheng’s life for the rest of their days. As daunting as that sounds, Jiang Cheng knows there’s literally nobody else who is up to the task of dealing with himself, and vice-versa. The two of them fall into step, shoulder to shoulder, from then and now.

Wei Ying’s home is Lotus Pier (all other family related discourse aside), as is Jiang Cheng’s, and their sister’s. The three of them grew up eating the same foods and the same inclination for liking foods on the spicier side of the scale. Dinner at the Jiang household is the same; deep, savory, rich, and spicy with lots of meats and oils and prepared with rich fats and lots of spice. Wei Ying is the only one courageous enough to down an entire bottle of red pepper chili oil without a wince. All to make a point for some stupid childish dare Jiang Cheng doesn’t even remember the details for. And then Wei Ying drank a second bottle because he’s crazy.

His brother’s spice tolerance is well documented and well established. The taste buds in his mouth clearly shriveled a long time ago, and only the hottest, spiciest of dishes are able to satisfy him. He complains long and loudly if any dish isn’t up to par with his high spice tolerance. In his brother’s own words: “If I’m stuck eating tasteless rabbit food for the rest of my life, I’d rather starve.” Wei Ying likes meat, chilis, peppercorns, heavy seasoning, and all manner of spices; the hotter the better. Jiang Cheng knows this. His sister knows this. Everyone who’s ever sat down for a meal with Wei Ying knows this.

So it is entirely understandable that Jiang Cheng’s entire world grinds to a halt when he sees what’s on his brother’s plate.

“Where the fuck did he even get that?” Jiang Cheng whispers aloud, not to anybody in particular, both impressed and viscerally unsettled by the sight of Wei Ying carefully wading through his plate of greens and rice without a word of complaint. The rice is pure white. The greens are -- well, green -- fresh and even the other vegetables appear steamed (over the fried ones offered at their table). No meat. No grease. No fats.

Not a single drop of spice anywhere on his plate.

Jiang Cheng blinks. He blinks again, rubs his eyes just to be sure the image doesn’t disappear if he checks again like in a dream, and stares. It doesn’t disappear. His world view tilts and shifts dramatically under his feet.

Sure, there are dishes around Wei Ying’s seat all within arms reach. It doesn’t look like he’s intentionally avoiding them. But they’re untouched; instead, Wei Ying looks to be eating out of what looks like a bento box he brought from his apartment. It’s like he doesn’t notice them. He’s not eating any of Yanli’s food. Not even the lotus and pork rib soup. He hasn’t touched a single bowl of the delicious, familiar foods their sister lovingly prepared for each of them. Wei Ying doesn’t just give up a chance to enjoy Yanli’s food. He started fights for less; he’s that confident with his pride for his sister’s extraordinary culinary skills.

In all his years living with them Wei Ying has never (never! not once!) turned down Yanli’s soup.

It’s cataclysmic. If Jiang Cheng checked the news on his phone, he wouldn’t be surprised to learn the apocalypse is underway. The end of times is upon them. A giant meteor is planning to strike the earth in 24 hours. His meat-loving spice-fanatic brother apparently prefers bland rice and vegetables now.

It’s absolutely bizarre.

At his side, Yanli is the next to notice that something is incredibly, unforgivably, deeply, wrong with Wei Ying. His sister sucks in a breath beside him, meeting his expression of horror. From the look on Yanli’s face they’ve come to a frightening mutual realization.

There’s really only one natural conclusion to make: Wei Ying is ill and dying from some terrible, deadly disease, and he’s forced to live out the rest of his days in bland, spice-free, awful ways to combat his poor health. Or his brother met a hypnotist who turned him vegetarian, or he’s possessed, and that’s literally the only other explanation for such a dramatic diet change.

Yanli’s Terrible Husband makes the next observation, his expression slowly shifting from confusion into panic as he, too, makes the connection about the food on Wei Ying’s plate.

It takes much longer for their parents to notice, but the three of them aren’t exactly subtle about their lapse of attention. Jin Zixuan’s hand is frozen between his bowl and mouth, and the pork cutlet he was preparing to eat slides back into the sauce in his bowl with a small, understated plop.

The silence is unbearable. And that’s saying something -- their family dinners are already an awkward, inconvenient, uncomfortable affair. Their parent’s divorce is in the middle of being finalized and, somehow, their family meals are actually less of a dramatic affair than two years ago at the peak of their collective generational trauma around bad marriages.

While less dramatic -- and a lot quieter (in all parts because there’s simply no yelling anymore) -- these dinners are still a dreaded inconvenience for all involved parties. At best, the meal is served and eaten with minimal commentary. At worst, Mother is in a cross mood and leaves before the table is set. Yet Jiang Cheng doesn’t know if he’s ever felt the atmosphere at the table as unsettling as it is right now.

Father takes stock of the table and follows their terrified gazes to Wei Ying’s bowl before he makes an audible choking noise. Mother says nothing, because she’s on a strict Pretend Wei Ying Doesn’t Exist Policy and that’s probably never going to change.

After a long moment of hesitation Father asks, “Ah...ah? A-Ying.” Wei Ying picks his head up from where he’s focused on his food. Another weird concerning change of note is Wei Ying’s absolute lack of interest in holding conversation. Not that there’s any right now because the entire table is silently entranced and horrified by his meal of choice. “Is something…” Hesitating again, before he settles with, “...Is there something you wanted to tell us?”

Around his next swallow of green -- is that broccoli? is his brother actually eating broccoli of his own volition? -- Wei Ying answers, cheerful, “Ah, no? Why, is there something on my face?”

He’s still eating the tofu and vegetables. He brought his own dish of tofu and vegetables to Yanli’s dinner. He’s not eating Yanli’s food.

For a moment, Jiang Cheng is entirely overwhelmed by fraternal concern and almost cries. Yanli looks like she’s not far behind. Her awful husband just looks confused, but at least he’s sensible enough to be marginally terrified for whatever the implications of dramatic personality change is.

A long lapse of strained silence takes hold of the room, like everyone’s holding their breath. Waiting for something. Anything. An explanation, ideally.

Wei Ying looks around the table and finally -- finally! -- notices the collection of concerned stares directed at him. He frowns. “Uh… ah...” Chopsticks put aside, he turns to Jiang Cheng and in a low whisper asks in a bewildered tone, “...er, what did I miss? Why is everyone looking at me like that?”

“You,” Jiang Cheng starts. “You’re -- why is everyone looking at--!” He gestures frantically at Wei Ying’s plate and offers frustrated, confused noises. Wei Ying glances at his dinner completely unconcerned like, yes, nothing unusual there, and raises an eyebrow. Mother is glaring at both of them, so he drops his voice. “What the hell is wrong with you!?” Jiang Cheng whisper-demands.

“What are you even talking about?” Wei Ying whisper-demands in return.

Jiang Cheng looks to Yanli for guidance but she only shakes her head. Wei Ying appears mystified by the strange atmosphere in the room and reserves his comments to thaanking Yanli for cooking dinner (even though he didn’t eat any of it, which is ?!?!?!?!?!) and happily agrees to see them next week for dinner, same-time-same-place as usual, before going on his merry way.

“What the fuck.” Jiang Cheng says aloud, after Wei Ying’s (devastatingly uneconomic) red moped is nothing more than a blur in the distance. Yanli’s Terrible Husband nods heavily in agreement which is also, frankly, alarming, because the two of them never agree on anything. Again, Jiang Cheng mutters, “What the fuck…?”

Father looks shell-shocked. Jiang Cheng feels about the same, trying and failing to process whether what he saw was real or some intense collective hallucination. He argues with Yanli’s Terrible Husband over dish duty to distract himself from thinking about it further. Maybe Wei Ying thought it’d be a funny prank; well, he succeeded, if that was his goal.

As he’s second-guessing himself over the importance of the situation, his sister takes the empty seat beside him and leans into his shoulder.

“That was weird,” Jiang Cheng says aloud, more confident now that it wasn’t the sole witness to some mentally fabricated illusion. “That was very weird. What was that?”

“I don’t know,” Yanli says quietly. “He didn’t even try my soup…” She pulls desperately on his jacket sleeve, her thin fingers curling around the fabric with an urgent, clumsy fear. “He didn’t try the soup!”

“Very weird,” Jiang Cheng repeats, nodding to himself.

Desperately his sister concludes, “There must be something wrong. With A-Ying.”

If Wei Ying were here he’d quip, when isn’t there something wrong with me, but Wei Ying left after dinner in a rush as if he were late for something else. Which is also weird.

Yanli blinks quickly, and for a long moment Jiang Cheng fears she will actually start crying. But she doesn’t. With her thumbs she wipes under her eyes and asks in a clear voice, “Did he say anything to you earlier? Is he sick?”

“No.” Jiang Cheng answers in reply to the first question, because he didn’t. The second he answers, “I don’t know.”

“Hm,” Yanli murmurs thoughtfully.

Jiang Cheng attempts to reason, “Maybe this is a...phase?” Yanli appears even less unconvinced by that explanation as he feels saying it. Then, less rationally, “Or maybe he got suckered into some dieting pyramid scheme and he’s too ashamed to tell us.” That sounds more like his brother, at least, even though it’s still rather unlikely. His brother could sniff out one of those hoaxes from twenty kilometers away.

“Hm,” Yanli repeats with a hum. “Are you sure? You know how he is. He’ll hide a real problem.” She presses, more insistent, “Did he say anything before? Did he mention why he needed to bring his own meal? Was he not feeling well?”

“He didn’t say anything to me!” Jiang Cheng defends, recalling his conversation with Wei Ying earlier in the afternoon, which went more or less carried on in a familiar, frustrating manner:

“Well, that’s all. I’ll be off, I’ve got some, uh, stuff to do at home. See you when I see you!” Wei Ying calls out, giddy, weaving in and out of the sidewalk on his shitty moped and being a general nuisance to foot traffic.

“Do you even know what day it is?” Jiang Cheng asks, which is his way of asking, did you even pay attention to what I said at all? (What he said really wasn’t that important, but Jiang Cheng was genuinely checking up on his brother and asking why he was spending so much time away from the pier. Wei Ying’s blasé response was decidedly not encouraging.)

“Uh…” Wei Ying says, in a voice that very much means I forgot, and this is your chance to remind me, because you’re the best brother ever, thank you so much. “...next...uh...er, when is it?”

Jiang Cheng lets out a frustrated huff and answers, “You have to come to dinner TONIGHT, you asshole!”

Wei Ying nods, “Oh. Yep. Good thing you’re here to remind me I guess, haha. Great. Good. Great! See you tonight!”

And that was it; no mention of a new diet, nothing that indicated he’d be bringing his own meal. Nothing. Maybe Wei Ying was a little more skittish with his answers, but his brother’s usually rambling off a thousand inane subjects in six words or less so Jiang Cheng thought nothing of it.

“You’ll make sure to ask him, right?” His sister’s face is twisted, which is a terrible sight, and his guilt deepens. As does his anger for Wei Ying for making their sister so upset. He’s a terrible brother! The worst! Wei Ying is the worst!

“Don’t worry, A-jie,” Jiang Cheng swears viciously. He’ll get answers, whether Wei Ying cooperates or not.

The most plain and reasonable course of action is to corner Wei Ying and demand answers out of him; and if that fails, threaten Wei Ying with the thought of making their elder sister cry, which is probably the most effective means of getting an explanation. The guilt would force him to confess. Personally, Jiang Cheng would like to beat them out of him, but that’s not likely to wield any helpful results.

What else is there to do except wait until the next time he gets a hold of his brother? Fridays they share a guided tour, which is the perfect opportunity to track down his brother and do so.

Or Friday would be the perfect opportunity, except --

“Where’s Wei Ying?” He asks Yinzhu, who is pioneering the rec center booth by herself (which in itself is a rare sight). Jiang Cheng is out of breath from running across the pier because Wei Ying was late for his shift and he needed to check if Wei Ying’s stupid fucking moped was in it’s usual spot (which it wasn’t).

She glares at him and answers with a clipped, “He’s not working today.”

-- his brother is nowhere to be found.

Jiang Cheng is stuck with the second shift driver, who claims Wei Ying asked to switch their shifts the week before for an “appointment.” The driver didn’t deem that worthy of elaborating further and said nothing else. That leaves Jiang Cheng with the older greying driver and a tank of obnoxiously loud sugar-crazed primary school kids. They’re from a summer camp, or something, assuming from their matching orange t-shirts.

Perfect, Jiang Cheng thinks bitterly. This will certainly do wonders for his migraine!

In addition he’s stuck with the worst duck boat of their small fleet. Lil Red is the “Problem Starter” boat among the staff with a tempermental engine and a misaligned rudder that tends to create steering issues in the water. (It’s also no wonder that Lil Red is Wei Ying’s favorite of the two duck boats their family owns; Lil Red and Lil Blue, aptly named for their striking colors and all Wei Ying’s nicknames. Jiang Cheng tried to nickname them something relevant to the pier, like Lady of the Lotus Blossoms or River Dancer, but Wei Ying laughed at him and said he wasn’t allowed to name boats after club dancers. The nicknames Wei Ying suggested stuck instead.)

After arguing with the ferryman for violating the No Dogs policy at the pier by bringing his scary ass dog, again, Jiang Cheng can finally get this shitshow started. The sooner he gets going the sooner it’s over.

“Welcome to the Historic District of Yunmeng’s Lotus Pier. We thank you for choosing Yunmeng Riverside Tours.” Jiang Cheng miserably greets into the microphone clipped to his collar. “Please be seated. We ask our patrons to keep their seatbelts fastened tightly until the vehicle stops completely. And remember to keep all hands and feet within the boat at all times.” He could recite the entire greeting from memory but looking at the tour speaking sheet guide gives his eyes something to do other than look at snotty kids.

He catches a good look at himself in the rearview mirror; his own miserable scowl, purple tour guide shirt, and the (unfortunately mandatory) bright yellow cartoonish duck hat atop his head. Today there’s not even his brother to keep him company and control the circus of children at his disposal. (Not that Wei Ying really helps with his migraines either. Generally speaking, his brother is the reason for most of his headaches.)

Even though he’s touring without him, Jiang Cheng feels a stab of betrayal everytime he sees Wei Ying’s flatteringly normal duck logo driver cap, like the one his driver is wearing. That’s a festering source of bitterness that he’s held since Wei Ying got his license and abandoned him for driving instead of sitting up top and rattling off history facts until the eyes of the tourists glaze over. The injustice of it all!

“When are we going in the water!” The yellow sun hat kid screams back.

Turning away from the row of seats, Jiang Cheng rubs his brow where it throbs with pain. At least his job is fairly easy. Relatively speaking.

“Following safety guidelines, our craft comes equipped with life vests under each seat. I will be around shortly to check seatbelts.” He knows he’s going to be double-checking a lot of seatbelts today. He doesn’t trust any of these maniacs to keep their shit buckled!

Unfortunately the teacher is glaring at him, so he forces his expression into a neutral Customer Service Smile and a little more like a Respectable And Capable Child Teaching Figure. Jiang Cheng has a feeling it comes out more like a grimace. “A message from our services: our tours are not responsible for the loss or damage of electronic items such as phones, cameras, and personal pagers, and to keep such items securely within our craft. Thank you and I hope you enjoy your stay at our beautiful Lotus Pier.” His voice comes out more of a sigh at the end.

“Duck!” One of the kids shout-demands. “Duck!!!” The yellow hat kid bellows in agreement.

Fuck his miserable life.

Jiang Cheng takes a deep breath and holds it until he feels dizzy. Into the microphone he reluctantly mutters, “...quack quack.” He flaps the pitiful wings on either side of his hat with the dangling strings, because that’s part of the tour guide contract.

The bus fills with enthused screams and merry quacking. Jiang Cheng seriously considers leaping head-first off the side directly into the pavement, but then that will probably create more problems for himself later, so he doesn’t. But it’s very tempting.

The kids visibly tune out during the sightseeing part of the historic district and play on their phones. Jiang Cheng doesn’t blame them in the slightest. The historic district is really only of interest for the older crowd who can put places and names to context. For a group of primacy schoolers? Doubtful. They’re waiting for the real purpose of this attraction: the river tour.

He’s recited these passages so many times he’s probably started reading them aloud in his sleep, which is embarrassing, but he does love Lotus Pier. It’s his home. He’s missed the pier and the market and fishing, and swimming. At the end of the summer he’ll be packing up again and heading back to the city for college and he’s going to miss the pier, once more.

As expected, the class perks up once Jiang Cheng announces they’re returning to the pier. “Please remain seated,” he patiently explains to the front row (or tries to). They ignore him and wiggle with excitement. At least they’re buckled in. Jiang Cheng knows it would reflect very badly on their reviews if one of the kids goes flying head first through the front windows. “And hold onto the bars in front of you.” With slightly more enthusiasm he adds, “I hope you don’t mind getting wet!” Which is his last warning and he sits down on the top deck’s tour guide stool.

He actually enjoys this part -- the boat drives off the dock and slides seamlessly into the water, puttering along the river like the animal it is named for.

The kids go nuts over it, whooping and hollering like they’re having the time of their lives. Good for them; thirty seconds of excitement to make up for an otherwise dull field trip. It’s better than any field trip Jiang Cheng remembers from primary school, at least.

His migraine disagrees viciously with the noise and he takes the next few minutes crouching under the low-hanging roof and swearing under his breath.

Most people spend the river tour taking videos with their phones, or taking selfies from the top of the bus, or doing equally dangerous stunts for viral videos or whatever. Jiang Cheng yells at four different kids to stop leaning over the side. Even if they’re American tourists, there’s no mistaking his tone for anything except stop right fucking now or so help me.

He glances at the teacher, who glares at him and frowns and at the recklessness like it’s somehow Jiang Cheng fault the kids don’t listen to simple instructions, so Jiang Cheng lifts his chin and glares back. It’s the teacher’s responsibility anyways! Duck boats are a hazardous sightseeing choice; Jiang Cheng would know! And he still doesn’t understand why people enjoy them. Only stupid or brave tourists, surely.

An hour and a half later the driver returns them to the front of their tourism center. Jiang Cheng checks his phone and curses at the time, so he wraps up quickly. “Thank you for choosing Yunmeng Riverside Tours. Please enjoy the rest of your stay at the magical and scenic Lotus Pier. We hope you take to heart the motto of my family’s ancestors who founded this pier -- always attempt the impossible. Have a good day.”

He scrambles off the bus as soon as the last tourist is off the steps and runs through the staff lounge, tearing off his hat and polo shirt as he goes. Yinzhu gives him a judgemental look from the counter, but whatever, he’s got to attempt the impossible of making it to lunch with his brother on time!

Setting a world record for Fastest Outfit Change Ever, Jiang Cheng clears out of Lotus Pier and checks his phone one last time.

His last message he sent shortly off the bus:

> Hey. Idk why you swapped shifts, but whatever. > You still coming for lunch?

> Usual place?

Followed Wei Ying’s belated spam of replies:

> huh? usual what

> did i

> OH SHIT WE WERE MEETING FOR LUNCH TODAY

> I FORGOT BC I CHANGED SHIFTS

> FUCK > IM SO SORRY SOMETHING CAME UP

> RAIN CHECK FOR NEXT WEEK? PLS? > SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRRYYYYY

> ILL PAY NEXT TIME I PROMISE

> IM REALLY SORRY

> DONT BE MAD...love u❤

Glaring down at his phone, Jiang Cheng utters several (loud) very audible curses that he’d held since learning Wei Ying ditched him for whatever else his brother decided was so urgent that it required changing his schedule.

Since when does his brother have more important things to do besides meet for lunch? Their Friday lunches are a set, deadlocked agreement in their shared schedules. Even during school months, they make a regular plan to meet once a week and eat together. He doesn’t remember a time when either of them cancelled lunch, except that one time two summers ago while Wei Ying was in the middle of moving into his shitty apartment.

Actually -- since when does Wei Ying swap shifts? All very suspicious. That and Wei Ying’s insistence on staying out of sight after the last awkward -- (well, when isn’t it) --family dinner.

Is he avoiding Jiang Cheng? His stomach turns -- with anger, frustration, concern, an unholy combination of the three -- so he puts on his mightiest scowl and goes to talk to Yanli.

His elder sister’s advice is logical, but Jiang Cheng instinctively flinches away from her suggestion. “Why don’t you just tell A-Ying you’re worried about him?” Encouragingly, Yanli agrees that Wei Ying trading shifts and skipping lunch is extraordinarily out of character. “Have you even tried talking to him yet?”

Jiang Cheng stares at her. “Why would I do that.” Jiang Cheng holds stubbornly to his position regarding Wei Ying which is If Something’s Wrong, You Better Tell Me Or I’ll Break Your Fucking Legs. That only gets him a sad frown of disappointment from Yanli, so he cringes and stuffs his stubbornness aside for a moment.

“Fine, no, I haven’t,” Jiang Cheng relents. “But he keeps refusing!” He relates the similarities between his brother and a fish: when it senses a predator encircling it refuses to stay still, it chooses to flee or wiggles around, so it can’t be pinned down. “I haven’t seen him all week. Have you?” Yanli shakes her head.

“You’ll talk to him for me, won’t you?” Yanli asks. “He’s avoiding me, I think.” At least it’s not just Jiang Cheng, then. But that’s far more worrying if Wei Ying is avoiding talking to her too.

“I’ll talk to him,” Jiang Cheng sighs, and it’s not technically a lie because Yanli didn’t specify when to talk to Wei Ying. He will talk to his brother. He will get answers. Eventually.

It would be easier if Wei Ying wasn’t so desperate to avoid interacting with them, which means if Jiang Cheng approaches him first, his brother will clam up like a constipated turtle. He knows trying to outsmart Wei Ying is a lost cause, so Jiang Cheng needs to simply plan smarter. All he needs is a bigger net.

That plan brings him here: “So...you want me to...snoop on your brother?” Nie Huaisang says. How someone can sound so intrigued yet unimpressed at the same time is an impressive feat.

“I need you to do some, uh, special reconnaissance.” Jiang Cheng supplies. “All I need you to do is like, I don’t know, check around his apartment. Tell me if there’s anything that looks like it doesn’t belong. Or looks weird.”

That isn’t specific enough and sounds crazy and Jiang Cheng knows that, so he forgives Huaisang raising an incredulous brow at him. He twirls his closed painted fan -- gold sparrows and black vines, a new addition to his collection -- delicately between his fingers. “Like what, Jiang-xiong?”

“Y’know.” Jiang Cheng makes a vague gesture with his hands. “Weird.”

Huaisang gives him that look like why did I agree to this but he nods. “...Right. Do you want me to take photos, too?”

“Yeah,” Jiang Cheng agrees, distracted. “Oh! And uh -- maybe, um, look in his fridge. If there’s like --” he makes a vague gesture. “-- anything uh. Strange...in there. I’d like to know.”

Jiang Cheng hasn’t completely ruled off Wei Ying Doing It All As Part Of Some Elaborate Prank Just To Fuck With Everyone because his brother’s an insufferable prick sometimes, and he needs answers.

Although Huaisang looks like he’s dying to ask why, he only nods. “Sure. I’ll text you later.” He smirks and starts up the stairs, only to turn and fan himself with his hand like a swooning widow in a theatre. “But if your brother catches me -- er, poking around -- what do you want me to say?”

“My brother’s as oblivious as they come,” Jiang Cheng answers. “Just say you got bored.” Huaisang is giving him that look again. “Whatever. I don’t know.”

“Then why aren’t you doing this if he’s so oblivious?” Huaisang whines. Jiang Cheng’s eye twitches.

As if it were so simple as to march into Wei Ying’s apartment unannounced, tear open his cabinets, and scream at him until he confessed! No. Jiang Cheng has to be smart about handling this. Wei Ying’s surprisingly sensitive and he’ll know something’s up if Jiang Cheng randomly invites himself over to his apartment. It’s better if Huaisang does the prodding. His brother won’t put up his guard, or at least won’t be as naturally inclined to see Huaisang’s visit as suspicious.

Puckered like a sour lemon, Huaisang continues petulantly, “I don’t want him to kick me out! This is so invasive! Our friendship is special to me, you know! I specifically curated it myself, our bond is forged from years of mutual trust and understanding and--”

Of course. No favors come without a price. Jiang Cheng grits his teeth and forces out, “If you do this, I’ll tell your brother you’re helping out at the pier to get him off your back for a week.”

As expected, his complaints come to an abrupt halt, leaving a visibly smug Huaisang. There. Transaction completed. Favor fulfilled. Then he’s gone.

Jiang Cheng walks back to the bus stop and waits for Huaisang’s inevitable update, which arrives in a timely and respectable half-hour later:

> OMG wtf

> ok so u were right > theres something wrong with ur brother lmfao

Which is...well. Obviously.

> my conclusion is ur brother was demonically possessed by a vengeful vegetarian

What, Jiang Cheng thinks, and quickly scrolls to read the next flurry of messages that fill his screen at ridiculous speeds. Huaisang’s observations gradually mount in confusion and terror.

> where do i even begin...

> he doesnt have a single energy drink in here!!!??!?

> ??????????????

> no protein powder either ??? what > what happened to him?????

> who is this man????

> VEGETABLES? OAT MILK? ORGANIC RICE??

> FRUIT INFUSED WATER? VEGAN LABELS ON EVERYTHING????

> WHAT ???!!!!!

Jiang Cheng’s stomach curdles with shared horror. Fruit infused water? Vegetarian alternatives? Is there a disease that turns people vegan?

What happened to the Wei Ying who lived on microwave meals? What happened to the man who religiously consumed Red Bull and Hi Tigers or whatever energy drink he could get a hold of? What happened to his infamous instant protein shakes? Who is this imposter?

Nie Huaisang’s messages don’t end there.

> what is this

> is this a prank??? a joke??

> WHOS FUCKING APARTMENT IS THIS????

> HELP ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

> THIS ISNT FUNNY ANYMORE!! WHERE AM I!!! > if i didnt recognize the rest of the kitchen

> id assume i was transported into an alternate universe

> this is so fuckingWEIRD????? WHAT IS GOING ONNNN

> EVERYTHING IS PEANUT & FAT FREE?? > NO “ARTIFICIALLY FLAVORED” LABELS! NO SUGAR! NO CANDY! WHAT!!!

> ??????????????WHAAAATTTTTT

> im takin a break this is so stressful. my stomach hurts. give me a minute

> also when did ur brother get a sword wtf

> im going to assume u didnt know about it so before u ask

> i couldnt take a picture because he was RIGHT THERE the ENTIRE TIME

> but it was HUGE !!!! WHY DOES HE HAVE A SWORD ON HIS WALL???

> im sorry i ever doubted you. there is something SO wrong here > …this was not worth a week of free labour now you’ve got ME worried😰

> [Images attached: IMG92892_X.jpeg, IMG92893_X.jpeg, IMG92894_X.jpeg, IMG92895_X.jpeg, IMG92896_X.jpeg, IMG92897_X.jpeg]

He mentally adds the photos to his slow building case of evidence that Things Are Not Right With His Brother. Huaisang is good on his word. Jiang Cheng spends the next few minutes reviewing the contents of Wei Ying’s fridge from the photos Huaisang stealthily captured during his visit. There is, as Huaisang described, a vegan demon taking host in his brother’s apartment.

Vegan protein supplements. Vitamins. Organic fruit juice. Organic legumes. Organic tofu. What the absolute fuck.

It is some modicum of comfort, at least, that Huaisang found the usual collection of spices in Wei Ying’s cabinets which means the situation isn’t irreversibly dire. Yet.

Huaisang’s next messages come in an hour after that, long after he’s left Wei Ying’s apartment. He leaves Jiang Cheng puzzling over the contents for almost twenty minutes as he tries to decode the hidden meaning between it and eventually gives up.

> i left. mission completed > but

> have u maybe considered ur brother is

> maybe

There's a long string of chat bubbles in the corner of the screen, like Huaisang is crafting an essay-length response, and finally the bubble disappears in lieu of a much shorter response than the pause before warrants it to be.

> nevermind > actually

> ill let you figure that one out

> im traumatized enough already thank you.

> personally my money’s still on the evil robot-clone theory lol

To which Jiang Cheng replies:

> WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT

The next response is no less bewildering or confusing as the previous messages.

> i mb snooped in ur brothers bedroom

> (not per our agreement i will accept this as my karmic punishment) > i have regrets💔

> dw he didn’t catch me > but he was looking at me weird so i think hes onto me :| > ur a terrible friend!!!!!!! btw!!!!!! the worst!!!!!!!!!

> im never doing u a favor again!!!!!

> altho i think i just won some money from the bet pool

> congrats on staying single long enough for me to collect my dues lol

> my offer is still valid tho...whenever u feel like changing that…lmk

> ;)

Which somehow leaves Jiang Cheng even more confused than before, if that were possible. He explains this to Huaisang through a series of angry question marks, and then Huaisang leaves him on read, because he’s a dick.

Well. There goes Jiang Cheng’s elaborate prank theory. All that’s left is to confront Wei Ying. Be direct, Yanli advised.

Yes. Jiang Cheng will be very direct.

“Where the fuck have you been!” Jiang Cheng yells, after his brother texted a ‘sorry i’ll be a bit late lol dont wait up’ in place of explaining why he needed to swap shifts again. He points at Wei Ying’s moped and demands, “And why are you still lugging around that worthless piece of shit?”

At least he showed up on time for lunch. This time.

“He doesn’t mean it darling,” His brother croons, lovingly patting Lil Apple’s handlebars as though consoling it after Jiang Cheng’s insults. “I know you’re perfect.”

“You’re an idiot,” Jiang Cheng adds, not that Wei Ying needs the reminder. “Just get a real motorcycle!”

Wei Ying protests, “Aiyo, that’s not fair! ‘Lil Apple always served me faithfully.” He shakes his head disdainfully. “You know I can’t afford a car, and I don’t want to bicycle everywhere. Not all of us are the heirs of a wealthy tourist empire!”

“Hah,” Jiang Cheng huffs. Wei Ying parks his eyesore of a vehicle beside the tree outside the restaurant. Jiang Cheng orders their meal and nearly falls out of his chair at hearing his brother’s bland request for mapo tofu and vegetables.

“Alright, seriously,” Jiang Cheng says, after the server leaves. “Is this some kind of joke to you? What the hell is this all about?”

His brother frowns and asks, “What?”

Is he really going to make him say it? “Fine,” Jiang Cheng scowls. “Fine, that’s fine. Don’t tell me. I hope you know you’re making A-jie sick with worry.”

“...What?” Wei Ying repeats, wide-eyed, probably laughing his ass off inside over Jiang Cheng’s concern. Like he doesn’t already know.

Exasperated, Jiang Cheng copies his stupid exaggerated bewildered expression and says, “Wei Ying.”

His brother leans back, legs and elbows crooked at odd angles but loose and carefree as Wei Ying considers his question with infuriating nonchalance. “Ah, hah, alright. Always making such a big fuss out of nothing. You know what your problem is?”

Jiang Cheng grinds out, “And that is?”

“I’ve got the results in,” He explains, far too casually. “Frankly, they’re not good.” Jiang Cheng squints at him.

Jiang Cheng’s stupid asshole brother nods, lips pressed thin in a grim line. “I’m afraid…I have to diagnose you with a terminal case of Business Major,” Wei Ying says solemnly.

There’s a long agonizing beat between digesting that statement and realizing he doesn’t have anything witty or equally scathing to cut back with. Which is more or less the summary of every failure he’s ever had countermanding Wei Ying’s infuriating verbal escapades.

So Jiang Cheng does what he does best. He glares at him with the heat of his deep fury for this infuriating brother of his. Wei Ying innocently blinks back. Finally Jiang Cheng snaps, “Cut it out before I strangle you.” The server returns with their meals before Jiang Cheng can follow through with that threat. Wei Ying starts into his rice and vegetables. Jiang Cheng reaches over on instinct and pokes his cheek with his chopstick.

“Wh-huh?” demands Wei Ying, his expression caught in a crossroads of bemused and alarmed.

“Hm,” Jiang Cheng considers. “I think Huaisang is wrong. You don’t look like a robot. Or a clone.”

Wei Ying squints at him like Jiang Cheng is the one acting weird.

There’s one glaringly obvious hole in that argument. Jiang Cheng realizes, “But if one of us was actually a clone, how would you even tell?”

“Fraternal intuition,” Wei Ying says with a smirk.

“Fuck off. You’re adopted.”

Of course even that immediate shutdown can’t reign in Wei Ying’s imagination. Jiang Cheng regrets ever opening his mouth. “No, really, if I was turned into an evil robot clone I’d expect you to figure it out and then avenge me for my untimely, premature death.” Wei Ying muses. “I mean, obviously, no robot clone could ever capture my divinely handsome face, but it’d be pretty close, yeah?”

“I don’t think any clone could capture your level of ridiculousness,” Jiang Cheng says seriously. “Or match up to how unbearably annoying you are.”

“Bullshit,” Wei Ying replies, but he grins unmistakably like Wei Ying and like no other, like he’s perfectly happy right where he is; like they’re still eighteen and unaware of the sea of turmoil coming to rock their lives and cut loose everything they took for granted from its mooring.

But that was before. Well -- before everything else that happened.

Two summers ago Wei Ying packed up and decided that it was time to distance himself from his (unwittingly, logically blameless) place in the whole messy divorce situation. But Wei Ying insisted that his presence wasn’t helping matters and moved deeper inland into the city. He still drifted back in summer to help, often working alongside Jiang Cheng on the boat tours, and seemingly held no complaints about the unfairness of his predicament.

Wei Ying swore it was for the best. His university was in the city, it made sense to move closer, right?

Sometimes Jiang Cheng wants to shake him and remind Wei Ying it’s not his fault their parents -- for lack of a better term -- suck at keeping to their responsibilities. But no amount of words (or threats) would convince him, so Jiang Cheng watches his room clear slowly and Wei Ying’s personal items trickle away like sand in the hourglass until all evidence of his life there was gone.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Wei Ying swears, three fingers raised to his forehead like he’s taking a solemn oath. “I promise it, I’ll still be around to annoy you all the time!”

“Shame,” Jiang Cheng sighs, because that’s easier than saying but I’m going to miss you. “I was hoping for some peace and quiet myself.”

Laughing, his brother tugs an arm over his shoulder, playfully shoving him towards the water. In a classic display of maturity he sticks out his tongue and says, knowingly, “I know you’re teasing. I’m gonna miss you too, Jiang Cheng.”

“Like hell!” Jiang Cheng sputters. Quieter, he amends, “Yeah.”

“The Twin Tour Guide Prides of Yunmeng ride another day!” Wei Ying slaps his shoulder. “Count on it!”

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes and pushes him off. “Shut up. Nobody uses that dumb name, idiot.”

“And I will drive this duck boat,” Wei Ying intones for dramatic effect, because he’s an asshole. “And you will be my tour guide. Like my father, and your father, before us--”

Scowling, Jiang Cheng flips him off behind his back. “Shut the fuck up.”

“I didn’t hear a ‘please’!” Wei Ying teases. “The correct response is ‘Please shut the fuck up, Wei Ying.’ What a terrible, unmannered heir you are!”

The tension in his shoulders recedes. Wei Ying makes it easy to slip back into comfortable banter; putting on a pair of old shoes, memory worn and familiar. “I’m gonna break your fucking legs if you say that shit again,” Jiang Cheng threatens, as he has many times before.

Wei Ying’s laughter breaks out over the water, laughing even as he walks out the door. Jiang Cheng is left with an empty room beside his own and the feeling that despite Wei Ying’s insistence something changed; without either of them acknowledging it, without their realizing. Like the summer, which comes and goes and leaves a different bittersweet taste when recalling memories of hazy sunny days and warm water. Everything changes, but everything stays the same. Wei Ying’s always been that way -- running ahead without looking back, as fast as he can. Whether he’s running to something or from something, Jiang Cheng doesn’t know.

Sometimes it’s easier to bury it all and stomp down on the soil where those things are buried and try to forget they’re there. Like Wei Ying abandoning him in the summer before university, citing his awkward place in the Jiang Family Dynamic. Or Wei Ying choosing another university that wasn’t the one they originally agreed to take on together.

No -- it’s that Wei Ying is a genius. He’s incredibly talented. He’s the best. And yet Jiang Cheng suffers with jealousy in spades.

“That’s never been your fault,” Wei Ying told him once. The bitterness seped out of his expression and reverberated into his voice. So much bitterness that even Jiang Cheng didn’t know what to do with. “Do you hear me? Your father’s an asshole for this too. That’s not how you raise your kids.”

The summer after All Of That Other Bullshit and a year of living on his own, Wei Ying breaks his arm in a moped accident. That makes perfect sense to Jiang Cheng because that moped is a health and safety violation just from a glance and nobody’s stupid enough to dare riding it. Except for his brother. Of course.

Courteously, Wei Ying doesn’t bother telling him about it either and Jiang Cheng is greeted with that nasty surprise upon walking into his afternoon shift. At first he doesn’t see anything wrong; Wei Ying is wearing a black leather jacket loosely over his shoulders and talking to a swaddle of bright-eyed and camera-wielding tourists at the entrance. Same as usual.

Out of the corner of his eye he catches a flash of blue; something suspicious hanging off his brother’s arm. He drops his bag onto the rec center bench and marches over to Wei Ying to ask what the fuck is on his arm and belatedly realizes it’s a cast.

Mindful of the sensitive young ears beside him, Jiang Cheng tones down his “What the fuck did you do!?” that he wants to ask and tempers it into a reasonable “WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU!?” The lack of expletives don’t help on the volume matter.

Wei Ying looks down at his cast as if he’s noticing it for the first time. “Hm? Oh, this? Nothing, don’t worry about it,” he answers breezily.

Jiang Cheng drags him into the staff room to yell at him properly without an audience of tourists. “What did you do! How did you break your arm!?”

“Good afternoon Jiang Cheng,” says Wei Ying, pointedly. “Good to see you too, Jiang Cheng. Nice of you to stop in, Jiang Cheng--”

He is cursed with the most irritating brother in existence. “Your arm!” Jiang Cheng points out unnecessarily. Like there’s any chance of missing the bright fruity blue arm cast strapped to his brother’s chest that Jiang Cheng knows he didn’t have two days prior, because he invited himself over to Jiang Cheng’s room to play Overwatch until they both passed out around four in the morning. Jiang Cheng would’ve noticed it if he had. Wei Ying kicked his ass four rounds in a row with fucking Genji so he clearly wasn’t suffering from any arm related injuries then. “What happened!”

His brother only sighs and half-heartedly tugs at the loose hair straying from his messy bun. It looks sloppier than usual, and that’s saying something. “You need to be more specific,” Wei Ying chides. “A lot’s happened to me.” The last part comes out half-laugh, half-choked. What exactly he finds funny about this, Jiang Cheng thinks, is as puzzling as the rest of all the Wei Ying related anomalies.

“How the fuck did you break your arm?” Jiang Cheng demands, impatient. He waits for an answer, all of a forgiving ten seconds, and starts yelling again. “Wei Ying! Tell me!”

Straightfaced, Wei Ying tells him, “Jiang Cheng, I’m sorry. It’s hard to take you seriously when you’re wearing that.” He points to Jiang Cheng’s head where the duck hat rests. “Everytime you yell -- the duck wings flap -- it’s so -- sorry --!” And he bends over laughing until his laughter tapers off into wheezing.

The urge to strangle his brother with his bare hands reignites.

“I had a crazy night,” Wei Ying finally says, carefully eyeing Jiang Cheng’s thunderous expression. “It’s a really long story. I’ll tell you later, alright? We’ve got work in like...now.” He glances at the watch on his wrist, which Jiang Cheng notes is not on the side he usually wears. It shouldn’t matter much to him, because Wei Ying’s unfailingly talented and ambidextrous and isn’t suffering as much as he could be. Except for -- well, the broken arm. Right.

“...fine. Later,” Jiang Cheng says, reluctance dripping from every pore of his body.

“Later,” Wei Ying agrees happily, and starts for the door.

He doesn’t get far. Jiang Cheng grabs Wei Ying’s shoulder before he makes for the door. “Wait!” There’s one remaining unresolved urgent issue still unaccounted for. “You broke your arm.”

Wei Ying tilts his head at him like he’s trying not to immediately point out how stupid he sounds. Likely because he knows he already maxed out testing Jiang Cheng’s patience for the day. “Yes. And…?”

“You can’t drive,” Jiang Cheng tells him gravely.

His brother understands immediately. “Ah...shit.” He chews on his bottom lip, sliding his eyes away, visibly mulling over the problem. “I don’t think there’s anyone on the new staff who’s been trained to drive that pain in the ass, either. And Yinzhu hates me, she definitely won’t agree to swap with me.” Wei Ying rubs his nose with the edge of his cast and sighs hollowly. “Damn.”

“Damn.” Jiang Cheng echoes. “What should we do? Reschedule? Try to issue refunds?” Even saying that aloud makes him cringe. Mother is not going to enjoy hearing about this. She’ll blame Wei Ying for it too, even though he certainly didn’t break his arm on purpose.

Wei Ying pouts. “And disappoint all those kids out there? That’s so cruel, Jiang Cheng!” Jiang Cheng shoves his shoulder and scowls. It doesn’t take long for his brother to perk up again, eyes flashing. Jiang Cheng recognizes that look. It’s Wei Ying’s patented I Have A Great Idea Look and that’s usually either a very very good thing or very very bad thing.

Wei Ying exclaims, “I know exactly what we should do!” That’s awfully confident for someone who created a seamless solution in less than a minute, but Wei Ying was rather gifted at pulling genius ideas out of his ass every once in a while.

Scowling, Jiang Cheng snaps, “What.”

“It’s so simple!” Wei Ying grins. “You know how to drive the bus.” Which is redundant, Jiang Cheng thinks, as all the returning staff at Lotus Pier are required to learn how to drive the water mobiles should there be any incidents or emergencies. It’s just their luck they’re stuck with seasonals and temps so there’s nobody else. (Excluding Jinzhu and Yinzhu, who would definitely refuse even if the two of them begged.)

Wait.

Wei Ying says, “So. You’ll be my driver. I’ll be the guide today. Problem solved!”

“What!” Jiang Cheng says, but the longer he considers it, the more sensible his brother’s plan sounds. “Hn. Alright. Actually, that’s not...a terrible plan. I guess.” Why didn’t he think of that? It’s a simple solution. Really. That should’ve been obvious. Although he assumes it’s because he’s as accustomed to his role as Wei Ying is to his own.

“It’s perfect!” Wei Ying nods to himself, wiggling his arm in the sling. “That works for today. We’ll handle the schedule later, because I can’t go around driving like this.” He eyes the spot over Jiang Cheng’s head and it takes a moment for the meaning to register.

Jiang Cheng can’t help but grin, buoyed by his brother’s enthusiasm. He’s so on board with this idea. He rips off the duck hat with deserved vengeance and shoves it at Wei Ying. “It’s all yours.”

Wei Ying takes the hat like it’s a precious gift, cradling it between his chest and his un-casted hand. “Finally,” Wei Ying whispers, wiggling with excitement. Over-dramatic as usual. “Once more I am worthy to wear the sacred duck hat of His Excellency, The Supreme Duck Lord…”

If his arm weren’t already broken Jiang Cheng would’ve punched him, but he has some care in his heart for his idiotic brother and refrains from doing so. But he definitely deserved a good punch in the arm for that.

In the bus, after loading it full of parents and eager children, the dregs of realized horror sink in. “This is a mistake,” Jiang Cheng resolutely tells Wei Ying, who only throws his head back and laughs.

“Just don’t hit anything or anybody and we’re in the clear!” Wei Ying declares, like it’s that easy.

The thing is, Jiang Cheng isn’t so sure. “I haven’t driven this thing since I left for university! I barely remember what half these buttons are for!” Speculatively, he turns to Wei Ying and asks, “Well. Um. Enough about -- are you sure you can handle the, uh, guide part? You haven’t done that in a while either.”

Wei Ying’s affronted reply gives him little reassurance. “Haha, of course! I never forgot a single fact about our beautiful pier!” He puts his free hand over his chest and straightens in a dramatic pose. “For example, the fact that the best tasting lotus seeds always have the stems attached, the water is magical because it has never once frozen over, and --!”

Wei Ying ducks under the arm that swings for his head, but he was expecting it. Jiang Cheng blusters, “Idiot--!”

“Don’t worry about me! You’re the one who should be worried since you’re driving!” Wei Ying quips and tugs the megaphone out of the overhead compartment before Jiang Cheng can think of a retort.

There’s an ear splitting shriek from the megaphone before Wei Ying’s voice cuts through and orders: “PLEASE BE SEATED, OUR TOUR WILL COMMENCE SHORTLY!” Turning, he beams down with delight at Jiang Cheng’s visible grimace.

Somehow, the afternoon tour isn’t a total disaster. Wei Ying makes up many creative (not factually or historically supported) stories about Yunmeng and the surrounding towns, reserving his most thrilling tales for the pier and the river part of the tour. “Over there, if you look by those docks,” Wei Ying points vaguely towards the Jiang estate and into the river beyond. “That’s where I grew up! That dock over there is also where I almost drowned when I was ten --” Jiang Cheng squeezes the steering wheel and imagines wringing his brother’s neck. Wei Ying (absolutely aware of the trouble he’s sowing) continues brightly, “-- where my terrible brother pushed me in ‘cus he thought that’d be funny --”

The engine makes a discontented grinding noise that drowns out the sound of Wei Ying’s storytelling. The bus lurches forward with an unsettling slump. “Sorry,” Jiang Cheng says, not at all apologetically.

“Anyways!” Wei Ying claps his hands -- or tries to, and looks down at his cast with an expression of abject betrayal -- and recovers enough to tell the kids in the front row an array of interesting duck and waterfowl related facts. Then he hands out the complimentary duck whistles, which are the bane of Jiang Cheng’s entire fucking existence, and the rest of the tour is incoherent due to the incessent quacking.

Jiang Cheng winces whenever one of the kids manages to make a particularly piercing whistle-quack. Wei Ying grins like he’s having the time of his life. Asshole.

“Thank you for visiting our historic and scenic Lotus Pier!” Wei Ying offers each departing kid a high-five upon leaving. Jiang Cheng is floored. The kids actually accept the high-fives. They climb into Wei Ying’s personal space under the watchful eyes of their parents, clinging to his legs, asking more questions about ducks and the river and why his arm is in a cast.

Jiang Cheng groans. Of course kids are interested in stuff like that. They’re the perfectly appropriate audience for Wei Ying’s rambling and impressive displays of sing-song burping and elbow-farting.

Bitterly, Jiang Cheng notes that even the parents eye him with more approval than they’ve ever offered him. Jiang Cheng is lucky if he gets a smile from kids. He doubts if he offered a hi-five any of them would take him up on it. Probably because he’s always scowling like their noises cause him personal offence. Which they do.

“Quack quack!” The kids chant their demands with terrifying unity. Wei Ying obliges them with a sharp whistle-quack that stabs Jiang Cheng directly through the brain. Given the opportunity he’s burning those fucking souvenirs, mark his words. Nobody needs those sound torture devices. The parents will thank him. It’s a necessary sacrifice to make.

One of the kids tugging at Wei Ying’s shirt asks, with no small amount of suspicion, “Is Lotus Pier really magical?”

“Ah,” Wei Ying flicks the girl’s nose and scrunches his own nose to match her frown. “Well, Lotus Pier is considered a beautiful and magical place. It’s the most magical place I know!”

That’s such a bullshit answer even Jiang Cheng snorts into his hand. She tugs on Wei Ying’s shirt, stretching the words LOTUS PIER! COME VISIT! into something entirely incoherent. “But is it magic? Have you seen a ghost here? Is it haunted?”

A pause from Wei Ying, who looks like he’s giving the question a long and serious consideration. At last he says, “The local legends say there’s a ghost who haunts the pier to this day, so I suppose it is a little haunted!” Jiang Cheng scoffs.

The girl asks again, uncaring of Wei Ying’s casual dismissal, “But is it really? Have you ever seen a ghost?”

Wei Ying nods solemnly and answers, “Yes.” Jiang Cheng whips his head around to glare at him. Wei Ying pointedly ignores him. “I’ve seen some ghosts here. There’s a few of them hiding around the pier.”

The boy -- her brother, if by the way he’s clutching the girl’s hand -- whimpers. Wei Ying chuckles and says, “Ah, ah, but don’t worry! They’re very nice ghosts, I promise! They would never hurt good children like you. You only have to be nice to them.”

Jiang Cheng misses the rest of that farce of a conversation because one of the parents asks for assistance with taking family photos and he’s in no place to refuse.

Coming up alongside him, Jiang Cheng jostles him by the shoulder as they’re heading for the staff room to change. “You shouldn’t lie to kids,” Jiang Cheng says, meaning to tease his brother’s bizarre choice of answer from the tour.

Quiet. Jiang Cheng nudges his shoulder. Wei Ying’s eyes are far away, and he blinks as though surprised to hear Jiang Cheng address him. “Hm? What?”

Without the ridiculous guide hat, his brother’s hair sticks up at ridiculous angles. He looks oddly lost, vulnerable almost, clutching the rumpled duck hat between his fingers. He looks like the child who came to Lotus Pier who was timid and quiet and nothing at all like Wei Ying.

“The kids,” Jiang Cheng repeats. “You shouldn’t lie to them like that. Why were you trying to scare them? You know those are just local legends. They’re ghost stories.”

“Mhm,” Wei Ying says thoughtfully, noncommittal. “They are.” He blinks again, sluggish, and looks down at his bag like he’s not sure how it got in his hand. There’s a long pause where he stares at it and says nothing, until his voice comes out as a sigh, “Oh. I should probably head home.”

Picking his head up at the sound of his brother’s weirdly soft tone, Jiang Cheng takes another good look at him. Wei Ying is cradling his hand -- the one in the cast -- to his chest and swaying. Under the fluorescent lights, he looks greenish and pale. Deep shadows Jiang Cheng didn’t see out in the sunlight sink under his eyes.

Jiang Cheng asks, “Are you alright?”

“Tired,” Wei Ying says, and sways into the bench by his locker. “M’fine. Been a long day.” He frowns and amends, “A long and weird day.”

Not one to argue with such an open display of honesty -- or at least a sincere admission like that -- Jiang Cheng only nods helplessly. “...Yeah. Right. Er, do you want me to drive you home? Or take the bus back with you?” Then he has a terrible thought. “You didn’t drive your fucking moped here, did you? Wei Ying.”

“I couldn’t,” Wei Ying mutters, low, and Jiang Cheng barely makes out the end of his sentence. “...accident.”

“What!” Then, shockingly, everything makes sense. “You had an accident on your moped!?” Wei Ying says nothing, but silence by admission is an answer in itself. “What the fuck.”

“Lil Apple is perfectly fine,” He corrects wearily. “I didn’t have an accident on --”

“I’m driving you home,” interrupts Jiang Cheng, brokering no room for argument.

Wei Ying snaps, “Jiang Cheng.”

“I’m not asking!”

A slow head shake. “My neighbor dropped me off and said they’d be back to pick me up. I’m fine, alright? Just tired.”

“Fine,” Jiang Cheng huffs and crosses his arms, feeling a bit lost and angry, but too confused to determine who or what exactly he was angry for.

The neighbor texts Wei Ying when they finally arrive outside the Riverside Recreational Tourism Center. Jiang Cheng walks him out, feeling deservedly concerned by the way his brother sags like he’s ready to curl up on the ground and sleep there.

“Are you sure you’re --” Jiang Cheng starts, but Wei Ying waves him off.

Firmly, his brother refuses again and says, “See you next week.” He waves -- with his casted hand, which he probably thinks is funny -- and chuckles as he approaches his ride. The neighbor’s car isn’t expensive; a moderately sized commuter car -- but it shines like the owner freshly polished it. Neat freak, Jiang Cheng assumes, and then wonders how his brother never mentioned knowing this neighbor before. As far as he knew, the only neighbor Wei Ying spoke with was an older grandmother who lived across from him and she didn’t own a car as far as he knew.

Nobody pops out to greet him or help him inside. Wei Ying opens the door on his own, ducks his head inside, and shuts it behind him. Some neighbor that is.

From the profile of the driver, Jiang Cheng guesses it’s a man. Wei Ying surprisingly kept his lips tight over any other details and that leaves Jiang Cheng the impossible task of figuring out what stranger -- or neighbor -- his brother is befriending in the city. And how his stupid brother got into a moped accident, of all things.

But Wei Ying never says anything more about the mysterious neighbor or the circumstances around how he acquired the cast. The summer closes with the yearly Lotus Festival, they part ways for university once more, Wei Ying never decides to explain and Jiang Cheng never decides to ask. That’s where the story ends with a lackluster, unfinished conclusion.

“Hey,” Wei Ying asks, waving down the server for their bill. Jiang Cheng looks down at his tea that he doesn’t remember ordering. Right. Lunch with his brother. “Everything alright? You seemed a little lost in your head.”

Shaking himself, Jiang Cheng says, “No. It’s nothing. Remembering some things from last year.”

“Well don’t think too hard,” Wei Ying smirks. “Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.” Jiang Cheng swipes halfheartedly at him, but they both know his heart isn’t really in it. Wei Ying hums and fills the silence for himself, chattering about his summer project for university and complaining about his classical literature professor who Wei Ying declared war with during his freshman seminar.

Wei Ying mounts his moped and sees himself off with a lazy wave. “See you tomorrow, yeah?”

His brother’s a relaxed kind of person; always so carefree and spontaneous, never carrying the visible weight of trouble on his shoulders. He still dresses like an asshole who got lost in a second hand thrift store: grunge ripped jeans and black leather and boots. He smiles like there’s not a speckle in his mind carrying a worrisome thought.

And yet, Yanli is right. His brother hides and paints over his problems as though if nobody sees them, they aren’t there.

Silence. A beat where Jiang Cheng actually considers just asking, but then if this was all a joke he’d never live with the satisfaction of Wei Ying pulling another one over him. There’s only him, his brother, the dull awareness of traffic and people talking inside and a distant dog barking somewhere down the street.

“If something was wrong, I mean, hypothetically. You know you could tell me, right?” Jiang Cheng asks.

Ever the mature and model older brother (by a week! A fact Jiang Cheng carries bitterly) replies by squeezing Lil Apple’s handlebar horn and laughing. “There you go again, saying such strange things! Try asking things that make sense next time, haha!” Still lacking all sense of self-awareness too. “See you tomorrow, Jiang Cheng.”

Sighing, Jiang Cheng waves back. “See you.” Lil Apple utters a low growl from her motor and his outline slips away between one street corner and the next.

“Wow,” Wei Ying whistles, the note ringing out low and surprised. “Jiang Cheng, don’t be offended when I say this, because I’m your loving brother who cares about you --” Jiang Cheng wordlessly glares at him. “-- but you look like shit.”

Jiang Cheng says nothing because he woke with a sore throat and the inability to speak more than six words without coughing himself hoarse. He flips Wei Ying off instead of replying and goes to hunt down the shift manager to convince them to take him off the schedule for the day.

Nonplussed, Jinzhu takes one look at him and offers the driver’s hat. Jiang Cheng grimaces.

Wei Ying is waiting at the door and offers a consolatory smile. “No luck, huh? Guess our patrons will have to deal with my angelic visage today instead of your ugly--” However Jiang Cheng is feeling well enough for violence, and gives chase out of the staff room. Wei Ying retreats and unearths the guide hat, strutting around the pier like a proud chicken.

Or -- well, a proud duck.

“Quack quack! Hello!” Wei Ying shouts in greeting, flapping his arms for the little kids in the family group. The kids laugh. The parents shake their heads.

...a very stupid duck. Jiang Cheng scowls. Jackass.

He leaves Wei Ying to entertain the tourists while he finishes the last touches on the safety checklist before the bus is loaded. Life vests? Check. All emergency exits properly marked? Check. One unhappy driver and an over eager guide? Check. Revisit the dock and yell hoarsely at the ferryman for bringing his giant dog along (again) despite numerous warning signs around the pier? Check. Sort of.

“Stop bringing your damn dog over here!” Jiang Cheng screams at the ferryman, who in turn swears vigorously back at him. Most of Jiang Cheng’s sentence is incoherent but by now they know this drill. Jiang Cheng points at the sign by the loading dock that distinctly reads: NO DOGS. VIOLATORS WILL BE FINED. The ferry driver flips him off, but by the time Jiang Cheng returns to the loading dock the giant scary black dog and the ferryman are nowhere to be seen. Thankfully Wei Ying is oblivious to this oversight and Jiang Cheng is spared from chasing him back from his adrenaline fueled escape.

Time to load the bus and get this over with.

Wei Ying props himself up on the metal railing behind the driver’s seat (which is absolutely against safety regulations and is not encouraged whatsoever) and tells the kids to ask any questions they like during the tour.

Some of the braver kids ask why it’s called Lotus Pier (a namesake rightfully given for the lotus flowers that fill the river), where Wei Ying’s favorite place is inside the pier (the docks), and why the buildings all looked so different from the others.

“Ah,” Wei Ying nods seriously. “Well, Lotus Pier was founded over a thousand years ago, which means it’s very old! But many of our buildings were rebuilt at different times.”

The children nod along, too, as Wei Ying gestures towards the main house. “The pier burned down three times after its original founding. The first time was at the start of the Sunshot War Campaign around the Xuanzheng era, when the pier was invaded by an enemy clan and burned to the ground. The remaining descendants of the Jiang family rebuilt the pier after that war.” It’s a rather sanitized retelling of the Jiang ancestors and their time at the pier. Probably for the best, because Wei Ying’s telling this story to a bunch of literal children.

He continues, “The Reconstructed Lotus Pier survived until around the fifteenth century where it was partially destroyed once more due to a fire. Most of the pier remained intact, but some buildings required repairs or substantial reconstruction.”

A lazy hand wave towards the east side of the river, where the newer pavilions crawl along Yunmeng’s riverside. “The last event recorded was in the early twentieth century, where the pier suffered from another fire after a large earthquake.” Wei Ying nods again and finishes, “Even after all that, the pier was always rebuilt with the original plans and looks almost exactly as it did when it was first founded. Give or take a few details. The tourism center is one of the new pavilions converted for when Lotus Pier opened its first tours in the sixties.”

“Cool,” one kid says. Another says, “Lame.”

“Lame? Lame!?” An incredulous huff from Wei Ying. “This pier’s stood for a thousand years! It survived countless wars, famines, and invasions across generations! And you’re calling that lame? I’d like to see you stick around for a thousand years and see if you look as good as our beautiful pier! Lame. Bah.”

Without looking back, Jiang Cheng snakes his hand through the bars dividing the driver and the guide seat to slap his irresponsible brother on the back of the neck.

That earns him a sharp, “OW!” His brother snakes his hand through the same gap to flick the back of Jiang Cheng’s head. “What?” Wei Ying demands.

Jiang Cheng clears his throat three times before he can answer. Even though he sipped non-stop from the honey and tea water bottle Yanli gave him, his voice comes out raspy and dry. “Stop fooling around. Stand up. Start the tour.”

“Ugh, fine.”

Despite Wei Ying’s untraditional beginning, the rest of the tour follows in typical duck boat tour fashion. A few embellishments are added for dramatic effect, but it’s Wei Ying, and that’s par for the course. Wei Ying scares more kids with ghost tales and consoles the crying ones with complimentary quacking noise makers.

Jiang Cheng parks the duck boat back in the circular driveway around the tourist visiting center and escorts the straggling tourists off the bus. Wei Ying abandons him in favor of playing with the kids waiting in line. From the snippets of conversation he guesses they’re German, or French, which means their next tour will be a quiet audio-guidebook one. Those are Jiang Cheng’s favorite, because everyone is blessedly quiet and causing a minimum amount of chaos as they receive their tour information through their headphones. An ideal tour in Jiang Cheng’s opinion.

He joins his brother, hopping off the bus and patting Lil Blue’s hood. Wei Ying abandons the kids to elbow him, gesturing towards a frowning Yinzhu at the rec center booth. “You good for another round? Do you wanna swap with somebody?”

“Fine,” Jiang Cheng says hoarsely. It’s true; his voice sounds far worse than he actually feels.

“Ah, ah -- alright. If you say so!” Wei Ying flaps the duck wings on his head. Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes. “Do you want more water? More tea?”

“I’m fine,” Jiang Cheng insists. “You’re as bad as A-jie. Stop bothering me. So annoying.”

Wei Ying huffs, “Ungrateful,” and elbows him again. Jiang Cheng elbows him back, and then moves out of the way before Wei Ying can retaliate and initiate an all out war. He takes the opportunity to check his phone while Wei Ying pouts off to the side and reads a new message from his sister.

> How is it?

> Need more tea?

> You can take a break anytime. I’ll send A-Xuan to drive the boat if you aren’t feeling well

Jiang Cheng reaffirms that he’s fine (entirely side-stepping and refusing to entertain the horrifying implication that Jin Zixuan could be trusted with driving anything, let alone a duck boat with dozens of awaiting trigger happy lawsuit enablers) and looks back up to make sure Wei Ying didn’t wander off without him. Thankfully Wei Ying is still at his side; but something else captured his attention.

There’s a man in a light grey jacket waiting at the end of the pier right next to the NO LOITERING, NO LITTERING, NO DOGS, NO TRESPASSING AFTER DESIGNATED VISITING HOURS sign. Jiang Cheng doesn’t take notice of him at first, but he notices his brother staring in the man’s direction, unblinking, as if waiting for him to move.

There’s something...off about him, either because of the angle of the sun, but Jiang Cheng swears there’s an unnatural glow coming off his clothes. His wide pants billow in the light breeze; mirage-like. An impression of winter in anotherwise warm and vibrant landscape.

His brother nods once to the stranger -- which is also very weird -- and cuts his gaze back to the boat.

It takes several attempts for Jiang Cheng to clear his throat enough to ask, “What’s that? Do you know him?” He’s met with silence. Jiang Cheng elbows him in the ribs with more force than their play-fighting earlier. “Hey. Who were you staring at?”

“What?” Wei Ying asks, distracted. Jiang Cheng looks back and blinks in surprise. There’s nobody standing at the pier.

“Huh,” Jiang Cheng says. He shrugs. Must’ve been some lost tourist. “Nevermind.”

His brother’s weird behavior follows into dinner on the same evening, returning again with a plate of unseasoned vegetables and tofu. Even Mother comments this time, although Jiang Cheng doubts it was made out of concern and merely a surprised observation. “What is wrong with that boy, eating like that?”

There’s a severe pinch in Yanli’s brow, creased with worry. Father sighs. Yanli’s Terrible Husband studiously observes Wei Ying devouring his plain food and says, almost in awe, “He’s still eating it…!” Jiang Cheng says nothing, because Wei Ying’s new and bizarre eating habits are apparently not going away anytime soon.

He recounts the details from their lunch to his sister, but Yanli sighs and droops like she’s already in mourning Wei Ying’s presumed early demise. “He still won’t talk about it?”

“No,” Jiang Cheng sighs. “I’ll try again tomorrow.”

Tomorrow, Jiang Cheng decides, it’s time to try something new. Something drastic, even! Tomorrow he’ll march himself over to Wei Ying’s place and see for himself what the hell his brother is doing.

Mondays are the slowest days and the pier only holds limited tours within the grounds and pavilions along the water. It gives the staff a chance to clean and prepare for the rest of the week, such as gasing the boats, power spraying the boardwalk, and it’s also Jiang Cheng and Wei Ying’s day off. Jiang Cheng usually spends his free hours sleeping and playing Overwatch. Wei Ying does...whatever the hell he does on his off days.

He texts Wei Ying in the afternoon.

> hey. can we talk?

An hour later Wei Ying deigns to humbly reply:

> sure whats up?

Jiang Cheng glares through his phone.

> I’m coming over. We can talk at your place.

> sure

> if this is an angry talk then u gotta keep it quiet!! > my neighbor’s kid is sick i dont wanna wake him with ur ugly yelling!!! lol

Five minutes from Wei Ying’s apartment, Jiang Cheng responsibly sends a “heads-up” message.

> I’m here. Let me in. > Asshole.

> Is your buzzer broken again?

> I KNOW you’re in there

> ANSWER YOUR PHONE

> fuck you

> One of your neighbors let me in. > THANKS A LOT!!!

The hallway between their apartments is dingy and unfurnished, as is the summary of the building as a whole. Jiang Cheng warily wades through the dark, fumbling for the switch and swearing. The light went out and clearly nobody on the floor gave a shit to change it. Again.

In the low light from the window he can barely make out Wei Ying’s door handle, but the light reflects the gold patterning from Wei Ying’s New Year decorations. Although they’re somewhat faded by now with dust and constant exposure to sunlight because his brother couldn’t be bothered to take them down.

There’s also some new additions Jiang Cheng doesn’t recognize alongside the paper charm which look like a little kid scribbled all over. Probably the neighbor with the kid Wei Ying’s sometimes looks after while the grandmother is in search of five minutes of peace and quiet. When Wei Ying isn’t studying during the school term, he spends the rest of his time over there. Not that he actually studies much, or often, because Jiang Cheng’s not even sure he’s majoring in anything that requires serious studying. Wei Ying changes majors like someone might change outfits. Design. Psychology. Physics. Art History. Back to Design. Business Management. Communications. Early Childhood Development.

Jiang Cheng knocks. No response. He knocks again. He shuffles around his bag and checks to see if Wei Ying read -- or bothered to reply -- his messages and is accountably unsurprised that the answer is neither. A third knock. Mindful of Wei Ying’s warning, he calls out his brother’s name with a lowered tone so as not to disturb his fussy neighbor. Still no answer.

There’s a sound inside the apartment, and Wei Ying’s supposed to be home right now, but he’s either deliberately fucking with Jiang Cheng or he’s got his headphones on playing Overwatch and isn’t paying attention. Jiang Cheng decides he’s justifiably annoyed enough waiting outside and invites himself in.

For the record: Jiang Cheng does not break in. Yanli and himself both possess a spare key to Wei Ying’s apartment on account of being his siblings and this isn’t, technically, the first time Jiang Cheng invited himself into Wei Ying’s apartment (mostly) unannounced.

He slides the key into the slot and jiggles the knob (like Wei Ying’s showed him once, because his door tends to stick) and gently pushes inside. Wei Ying’s apartment is dark except for the light from his kitchen, casting soft yellow light over the rest of the room.

Wei Ying’s apartment is small. The “entrance” is more of a thin half-wall between the cabinet where Wei Ying keeps his shoes and leads directly into the living area with his couch and television.

At first, Jiang Cheng doesn’t see anything because it’s so fucking dark. The shades are drawn. The kitchen light barely casts a glow beyond the counter. The apartment appears deceptively lifeless. Waiting for his eyes to adjust, he feels his way along the wall next to the door for the light and even before he finds the switch he suddenly sees and hears too much.

His brother’s voice, unmistakably, a little high-pitched and airy. Jiang Cheng flips on the light.

Skin. So much skin. Broad, bare-skinned shoulders. Long dark hair.

From the short moment Jiang Cheng takes in those details and summarily throws them into the memory shredder he knows that’s not his brother’s naked back which is somehow both a blessing and a curse.

A blessing because oh thank fuck that’s not my half-naked brother, but also a curse because what the fuck there’s a half-naked stranger in my brother’s apartment and I don’t think he stumbled in here by accident.

“WHAT THE FUCK,” Jiang Cheng shrieks. Following shortly is Wei Ying’s surprised yelp and the heavy thud of something -- or more likely, someone -- hitting the floor. Jiang Cheng doesn’t know who or what, exactly, because by that point he’s already spun around and covered his eyes with both hands.

Wei Ying’s voice, shuffling about: “Aah -- ah, sorry, give me a --” Another thud. “-- fuck, where’s my sh--ow, motherfucker--”

“I’m. Uh. I am going outside,” Jiang Cheng announces to the door. “Right -- uh. Right now. Um. So. Er. Text me. I’ll come back later.”

Protests in Wei Ying’s shrill tone: “That’s -- it’s fine, no, wait! Jiang Cheng! Ah, no, don’t go anywhere!”

“I am going outside,” Jiang Cheng repeats firmly, and walks out the way he came.

As he learns in the next excruciatingly uncomfortable conversation, the shirtless man with broad shoulders is Wei Ying’s boyfriend.

Fortunately they were both wearing pants when Jiang Cheng walked in. (Much more unfortunately, Jiang Cheng is devastated with the knowledge that had he walked in a minute or two later that skin-to-clothes ratio would’ve probably been much lower and likely no pants, either. Horrifying.) Jiang Cheng is spared further nightmare fuel and can go on living his life because they generously decided to put their shirts back on. Even though Wei Ying is a little more flushed than Jiang Cheng is comfortable seeing from someone who is his (adopted, but still) brother. Not to abandon his brother in shades of embarrassment, the stern-looking boyfriend’s ears are the color of ripened tomatoes.

They’re fully clothed now, at any rate, which is enough to lower Jiang Cheng’s blood pressure to the point where he doesn’t feel like he’s in danger of spontaneous combustion.

“Well,” says Wei Ying, awkwardly breaking the excruciatingly uncomfortable silence now that everyone’s back in the apartment and avoiding eye contact. “This is, uh. This is not how I thought you’d be meeting but, ah. I suppose there’s nothing to do about it now, ah?” He laughs, too loud and uncomfortable to be natural. Both Jiang Cheng and Wei Ying’s boyfriend (is this his boyfriend? why didn’t Wei Ying ever say anything about a boyfriend!?) look at each like they have absolutely no idea what to do with the other.

The awkward pleasantries are put aside and Wei Ying makes efficient introductions from there. “Jiang Cheng, this is Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan -- ah, this is my younger brother, Jiang Cheng.”

Stern-looking boyfriend (Lan Zhan) offers a polite, awkward nod.

Jiang Cheng glares at both of them. “Hello,” he tells Lan Zhan (as politely as he can), and turns back to his brother. “Thank you for that permanent mental scarring. Thank you so much.”

Wei Ying shrugs like oh well. “First of all, you didn’t say what time you were coming over, and! And! You should’ve knocked! It’s not my fault you walked in on --” Jiang Cheng can feel the veins in his forehead bulging. “-- us, ah, haha.” He turns to his boyfriend and smirks, “I mean, if you had a super smart and sexy boyfriend like Lan Zhan, you’d know that’s really hard to resist!”

“Wei Ying!” Jiang Cheng yells, at the same time Wei Ying’s boyfriend sighs, far more long-suffering, “...Wei Ying.” They both look at each other with shared horror.

Wei Ying wheezes. “Oh yeah, you two are gonna get along great. Sorry, really, I missed your text. You didn’t really, ah, give me any time to prepare? I thought you were coming over later.”

“I texted you,” Jiang Cheng scowls. “And knocked. Repeatedly.” Wei Ying shrugs again.

So there it is. Lan Zhan is Wei Ying’s boyfriend. He’s also the source behind Wei Ying’s uncategorical behavior over the last few weeks.

“Lan Zhan has a lot of allergies,” Wei Ying explains, at Jiang Cheng’s look of unmitigated horror after Lan Zhan offers him a glass of organic oat milk. Jiang Cheng insists water is fine. “Like, more allergies than I knew existed. He’s got a sensitive diet, alright? And I didn’t find out until recently that all the spices were making him suffer, which isn’t fair either, so I’m...adjusting.”

Lan Zhan is also, apparently, the reason why Wei Ying’s schedule is all over the place. “Lan Zhan tends to work, ah, strange hours when he’s not at school. So I try to make time for both of us!”

“I see,” Jiang Cheng says. Suddenly, Huaisang’s vague texts make sense. There’s more details inside Wei Ying’s apartment that unmistakably belongs to his brother’s boyfriend; the extra set of shoes he didn’t see upon passing the dark entrance. The long sheathed white sword hanging on the wall above the television, not something he pictured Wei Ying ever possessing, so it must be Lan Zhan’s. A second laptop on the table lacking all the stickers and decorations Wei Ying covers his belongings with. Even Wei Ying’s sunroom bears the addition of the apartment’s second occupant with a line of light blue and white clothes hanging from the drying rack beside Wei Ying’s distinct blacks and reds.

In retrospect, Jiang Cheng notes bitterly, it’s all rather obvious. Then he remembers Huaisang’s evident betrayal for being so cryptic and unhelpful and he’s furious all over again.

“Ah, yeah.” Wei Ying summarizes. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes when he says, “But -- uh, please don’t tell jiejie yet? I was planning to tell you guys about Lan Zhan soon, I swear! But things just got a little, er, complicated, so then I thought it’d be better if I waited--”

“I won’t,” Jiang Cheng interrupts, only to spare everyone from more of Wei Ying’s inane rambling. “Tell her, I mean.” Wei Ying visibly slumps with relief. Except Jiang Cheng isn’t nearly done torturing him, and adds, “As long as you bring him to the next family dinner.”

He doesn’t really know how long they’ve been dating, or if it’s serious, but it has to be because they fucking moved in together. Even though this is the first time Jiang Cheng’s ever heard (or seen) anything about Wei Ying’s boyfriend. When did this start? Why didn’t Wei Ying ever mention anything about a boyfriend, let alone a serious boyfriend that moved in with him? ...all important questions to be asked at a later time. Jiang Cheng absolves himself of all involvement and plans to leave the tough questions for Yanli.

Wei Ying squawks with alarm. “Jiang Cheng! No! That’s such a terrible--”

“I will come.” Lan Zhan interrupts. Jiang Cheng flinches a little. His brother’s boyfriend is the second strangest fucking person he’s ever met (besides his brother, who still remains solidly in first) and doesn’t make any sound to announce he’s re-entered the room.

“--bly great idea! Yeah! Of course he’ll come to our awesome family dinner, why didn’t I think of that sooner?” The glare Wei Ying sends him that says you’re fucking dead to me for even suggesting that.

Too bad. Jiang Cheng has no sympathy whatsoever. Wei Ying and his boyfriend can put up with one disastrously awkward family dinner and then get black-out drunk afterwards like the rest of the well-adjusted adults.

“And try to eat A-jie’s food this time,” Jiang Cheng orders. “You were seriously freaking us all out bringing your own stupid food. We thought you were dying or something.”

Wei Ying waves him off and sighs like it’s Jiang Cheng’s fault he didn’t explain his departure from his usual diet. “You’re so dramatic, please.”

“Asshole.”

Whatever else Wei Ying means to retort with is lost as his focus turns back to his boyfriend, who’s inspecting Wei Ying with a serious look. Not that Jiang Cheng can really differentiate his expressions. Seriously, is his boyfriend’s face set in stone?

“Wei Ying.” There’s a weight behind his tone that Jiang Cheng can’t decipher. “What did he mean?”

His brother pats Lan Zhan’s hand, and it’s like Jiang Cheng isn’t even in the room anymore. “I told you I was adjusting, yeah? I’m adjusting.”

“Adjusting,” Jiang Cheng repeats, comfortably back in his own range of irritability. “And not explaining it a bit! Even Mother asked what the fuck was wrong with you!”

With his boyfriend distracted, Lan Zhan reaches across and places his fingers over the back of Wei Ying’s hand. “Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says. “Is it true?”

There’s a pregnant pause where the two of them just. Look. At each other and say absolutely nothing. From Wei Ying, a curious eyebrow raise. “True? Huh? Lan Zhan, what are you asking for?”

Patiently, Lan Zhan explains, “You haven’t been eating your normal meals.” Jiang Cheng doesn’t know him well -- granted, this is the first time they’ve met -- but he entirely understands his brother’s flustered squeak. That soul-searching look, that amount of focus -- his boyfriend is intense. “Is it true you have been eating like we do together around your family as well?”

His brother’s face darkens with color. Wei Ying desperately fans himself with his free hand. “Ah, ah, yeah -- hahaha, well. Yes. I did. Hey, don’t look at me like that, I’ve told you what that does to my poor heart!” While that answers one part it also makes it clear his brother is digging his heels on the explanation part.

Jiang Cheng may have to reassess Wei Ying’s “supposedly very smart” boyfriend because Lan Zhan asks, “Wei Ying…why?”

Wei Ying keeps fanning himself and blusters through another non-answer before Jiang Cheng, ever merciful, saves him from further embarrassment and says (overflowing with sarcasm), “Because he hates you. Clearly.”

“Ahaha, well!” Wei Ying thanks him for that supportive move by nailing him in the kneecap from the other side of the table. Jiang Cheng kicks him right back. How unappreciative!

Lan Zhan repeats, “Wei Ying.” Maybe he’s not so expressionless because the look on his face is pure adoration, if Jiang Cheng had a word for it. Like there’s nobody else in the world besides his brother.

“Ah, you finally appreciate all my hard work?” sniffs Wei Ying, who’s determined to stare at the floor between his feet like he’s hoping it will open up and swallow him. “It wasn’t easy, you know. I really missed my sister’s soup, too. You should make it up to me, Lan Zhan, ah?”

“I will,” Lan Zhan promises, covering his hand over Wei Ying’s and redrawing his focus once more. His brother’s face melts. He takes Lan Zhan’s hand and brings it up to his cheek and grins, but it’s so sappy and overwhelmingly sweet that Jiang Cheng’s stomach roils. Is it possible to be happy his stupid brother is clearly loved and cared for but, also -- ugh.

“Why don’t you start right now,” says Wei Ying, and -- oh, fucking hell, Jiang Cheng is fucking invisible to both of them now. He catches movement from Wei Ying’s side and -- yep, that’s his boyfriend’s hand snaking around his brother’s waist. Ugh. Gross. Jiang Cheng suddenly remembers what scene he accidentally walked in on; things look like they’re probably returning in that direction, so he quietly excuses himself and beats a hasty retreat.

Outside, he texts Nie Huaisang.

> I understand now.

Also understandably, that makes little sense without context.

> ???????????

> excuse me???? > what do you understand???

Jiang Cheng pauses midway down the last steps, fumbling to make an articulate response that won’t require too many details. He settles on:

> I hate my brother. > Want to get dinner?

> oh LOL

> sure ^_^

> meet u at the pier in an hour?

At least Huaisang lets him vent over dinner about walking in on Wei Ying and -- ugh. Jiang Cheng shudders. Some things a man should not see his brother -- adopted or not -- do with other people.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” Jiang Cheng grouches.

“Ah, Jiang-xiong,” Huaisang titters. “Pouting is only cute for kids, yeah? Aiyo, don’t look at me like that.”

He’s not pouting. He isn’t. He’s furious. Huaisang strategically wipes his mouth with the hand towel in his lap, not that it helps his cry for innocence because Jiang Cheng knows he’s hiding a shit-eating grin behind it.

“I had no idea,” Huaisang drops his jaw with faux-surprise. “Really, Jiang-xiong, I really didn’t know. I’m as surprised as you are.” Jiang Cheng doesn’t believe that even for a moment. Figures Wei Ying and Nie Huaisang would band together over this. They always liked pulling him into dumb pranks. Or submitting Jiang Cheng to said pranks and then giggling like loons when he discovered he’d been had and started threatening to break their legs.

“Seriously,” Huaisang sobers. “I only assumed. And it seemed improper to take that decision from Wei-xiong. I’m sure he was planning to tell you.”

Jiang Cheng grunts. Huaisang buys dessert for both of them from the vendors outside as they walk back to the main road of the pier, stopping at some booths along the marketside to collect more treats and gossip (both of which are favored by Huaisang). Huaisang is sensible enough to keep him well fed and lacking complaints as he works through the steamed red bean buns they purchased at the other end of stalls.

When they run out of stalls to wander between, Huaisang stops at the south side pavilion and fills the silence with complaints about school and his brother and everything else as they wait for his cab. He tells Huaisang about his agreement with Wei Ying.

“Hm,” says Huaisang, but it’s an opinionated hm sound and not an agreeable one. “Ah, I wish them luck, then.”

“With what,” scowls Jiang Cheng. “He’s the fool for not saying anything earlier.”

Huaisang sighs and opens his fan with a soft clap. “I suppose. It’s just -- very serious, to introduce someone to your family like that.”

“I know that.”

All he gets is that same noise from before, the one that states Huaisang has an opinion on that too, but is keeping his mouth close-lipped and mischievous. “Do you?”

Fucking hell. “I mean, I haven’t had to, uh, myself, but I’m sure it’s…” His face twitches. Fuck Wei Ying. Fuck Wei Ying’s gluten-free boyfriend. Fuck Nie Huaisang especially for laying on this unecessary guilt complex. “...difficult.”

There’s no disguising Huaisang’s smile, even behind that irritating fluttering fan. “Oh, don’t think about it too hard, Jiang-xiong, you might get a headache. Although I’m sure your brain could use the exercise --” Jiang Cheng knows what he’s getting at and swipes the back of his head as punishment. Huaisang ducks under it with a laugh. “-- ah, you’re not so fast, are you!” He straightens, turns back to Jiang Cheng and simpers, “Really, I’m glad you and Wei-xiong are getting along again, I really am.”

“Goodnight, Huaisang.” Jiang Cheng says pointedly, scowling. Although he waits until Nie Huaisang is inside the car before he turns back around.

With the window half-rolled down, Huaisang calls out to him, “Thanks for dinner!”

“Idiot,” Jiang Cheng replies, but a smile forces its way onto his lips while he walks back to the main pavilion. The sun dips behind him, casting gold and red sparks through the decorative glass. He breathes in, the sweet floral lotus embracing his lungs, familiar and kind like Yanli’s gentle hugs, and the door slides shut noiselessly at his back.