Work Text:
Jin Ling was unwrapping his first post-lunch milk candy when Nie-laoshi announced that he invited a guest to join them for the afternoon practice session. Another coach, who’ll remain with them through the tournament.
“What,” said Jingyi, who had just shoved half a madeleine into his mouth. Crumbs sprayed delicately onto the pages of his open three-ring binder. He hurriedly swallowed and accepted a paper napkin from Sizhui.
“Why?” he asked, wiping his mouth, “We’re two weeks away from the competition. We know the material front to back. We can hit the buzzer with our eyes closed. I bet Sizhui can recite all three hundred Tang poems in his sleep - “
“Um. I can’t. And you know we’re only required to know twenty of them.”
“Zizhen can probably label the map blindfolded, and even Jin Ling scored perfectly on yesterday’s written practice test.” Jingyi took a sip of water and continued, ignoring Jin Ling’s indignant squawk (“ What do you mean, even - “). “Nie-laoshi, we’re a team . To add an unknown variable this late in the game is a risk. What if the new coach throws us off our groove? We’ve got a title to defend this year!”
Nie-laoshi leaned back in his chair, unperturbed. “All valid points, Jingyi.”
“With all due respect, laoshi, I - huh?”
“You’re prepared, you work well together, and I trust that you’re all invested in winning again.” Nie-laoshi slid his fan open. Inky joints of bamboo sprouted between the paper folds. “Ah, such reliable students, sometimes I wonder if I even need to be here for the practices.”
“Laoshi, this is your apartment,” Zizhen said politely.
“Hm?” Nie-laoshi hid behind his fan. “Nonetheless - Jingyi, this coach isn’t, as you put it, an ‘unknown variable’ and I asked him to join us to give our practices a little more...pep.”
“Pep?” asked Jin Ling. His expression was caught between bewilderment and suspicion. “What’s ‘pep’ got to do with an academic tournament?”
“Is it Da Nie-laoshi?” Sizhui ventured.
As far as he was aware, their Chinese School Vice Principal only taught wushu during the extracurricular period after their weekly classes, but Sizhui could understand why Nie-laoshi might have asked him for help. He and his teammates tended to get a little drowsy during the afternoon sessions, bellies full from lunch and heads already crammed with facts and trivia from the morning’s review.
Snacking helped keep them awake, which was why Nie-laoshi’s kitchen table was stocked with boxes of chocolates and pastries, though on occasion it had led to spectacular sugar crashes. They had learned the hard way, not long into their first competitive season, that three See’s lollipops were sufficient for any given day and that coffee candy should be approached with a healthy dose of respect.
With Da Nie-laoshi around, though, they’d probably have to do sit-ups or some other form of exercise the moment he spotted a head drooping.
“Oh my god,” Jingyi sounded faintly hysterical, “Is this going to be like the speech contest? Will they judge how lively and full of youthful vigor each team is?” He turned to Sizhui. “I can’t control my thinking face. You know what it looks like. You have to tape up the corners of my mouth so that I’m smiling - ”
“Jingyi, hold on, that’s not what laoshi is saying - ”
“We’re going to have to find a mask for Jin Ling, he’s beyond saving - “
“ Excuse me?”
“Sizhui - oh captain, my captain - your visage has never failed to charm any auntie or uncle but alas, your demeanor is less ‘pep’ and more ‘serene’ - “
“Fair enough,” said the team captain. “But I still think that’s not the point. Also, ‘visage’?”
“Zizhen,” Jingyi stood up and reached across the table to grip his teammate’s shoulders, “It’s up to you.” He stared solemnly into Zizhen’s eyes. “Help us, Ou-bi-yang Kenobi, you’re our only hope.”
Zizhen patted Jingyi’s hands awkwardly. “Thanks, but I think you’ve got more than enough pep for us all. Quick question, completely unrelated - how many madeleines have you had today?”
Nie-laoshi’s face was still covered by his fan, but his hand trembled minutely. Sizhui was fairly certain that their teacher was laughing.
“Maybe ‘pep’ isn’t the right word,” said Nie-laoshi. “Jingyi, please sit. Your new coach will put a different spin on the questions we’ve been using, approach things from a different angle, make you think creatively about all those facts you’ve absorbed.”
Jingyi sat back down, his eyes still a bit wild. Sizhui nudged Jingyi’s glass of water towards him.
“What’re his qualifications?” Jin Ling demanded. “Did he help write the curriculum, like you?”
“No, he did not write the curriculum, and he is qualified by virtue of being my good friend.”
Seeing Jin Ling’s expression morph into one of outrage, Nie-laoshi added, “And experience! He participated in the tournament when he was your age. In fact, he was a member of the Gusu team that won Nationals in ‘01.”
Sizhui blinked. “You asked my father?”
It was true that his father’s interactions with Nie-laoshi were characterized by a restrained sort of familiarity that few other people received, but surely that came of having known each other since childhood and not...close friendship.
“Zhima and Mantou definitely rank higher on your dad’s list of friends than Nie-laoshi,” whispered Jingyi. He perked up. “Wait, laoshi, did you - oof. ”
Zizhen elbowed Jingyi before he could ask their teacher if he invited Sizhui’s pet rabbits to practice. “Process of elimination, right, guys? Obviously it’s not laoshi, and Sizhui’s dad - “ he jerked his chin toward Sizhui, “ - would have told him if he was coming. He doesn’t do surprise visits.”
“Okay,” agreed Jin Ling, chewing on caramel. “It’s not my dad or jiujiu either. Between the two of them, my mom would have found out and then she would’ve definitely asked to stay today.”
Sizhui was watching Nie-laoshi. His fan was still splayed open, lowered and fanning lazily. His face betrayed nothing.
“That’s four out of the five team members,” said Jingyi. “So that leaves, uh - “
“Mianmian!” said Zizhen.
They looked at him.
“The gufeng singer? The one who sang that really catchy song about wheat harvest - ”
“We know who Mianmian is,” Jin Ling said, “But why would she - how’d you know she went to Gusu?“
“Her real name is Luo Qingyang. My mom took dizi class with her one year, before she joined CCC,” Zizhen explained. “She says she should’ve asked for an autograph back then whenever she hears Mianmian’s songs.”
Four heads turned toward Nie-laoshi.
He smiled. Closed his fan. Opened his mouth -
- and the doorbell rang.
“I’ll get the door!” Jingyi said immediately, leaping up from his seat. As his slippered feet pattered toward the door, Zizhen straightened his notes, Jin Ling gathered up stray candy wrappers, and Sizhui continued to track Nie-laoshi from the corners of his eyes even as he helped his teammates tidy the kitchen table.
“Do you think she’ll sign my notes?” whispered Zizhen. “It wouldn’t be rude to ask, right, if I do it at the end of practice?”
“S’fine, probably. Do you have a Sharpie?” Jin Ling whispered back. Zizhen shook his head. “I want her to sign my phone case - Sizhui, do you - “
“I don’t think it’s Mianmian,” Sizhui said quietly, though he still passed a black marker to Jin Ling.
“What?”
“I don’t think - “
“Guys,” Jingyi said loudly, drawing his teammate’s attention. “This is Wei-laoshi.”
They stared at the man standing next to Jingyi. He grinned. “Break any buzzers lately?”
“Not this season,” said Nie-laoshi genially (“Yet,” Jingyi muttered). He wiggled his fan in an approximation of a wave. “Come sit, Wei-xiong - Zizhen, bring over that chair - it’s been a while, hasn’t it?“
Wei-laoshi took the folding chair from Zizhen and swung it around to straddle it backwards. “Sure has,” he said easily, resting his arms on top of the back of the chair. “But we can catch up later. I want to meet the team first.”
He looked around. “RIght, so this one is Jingyi, who opened the door for me - Nie-xiong, what kind of host are you, making your students welcome the guest - and this is Zizhen, right? Thank you for the chair. And you are...”
He turned to Jin Ling, who, by way of introduction, demanded, “Does my mom know you’re here?”
Wei-laoshi blinked and looked carefully at Jin Ling. His gaze drifted to the top of Jin Ling’s binder, where he’d written his name, then back to his face.
“A-ling?” He asked carefully.
Jin Ling scowled. “You’re not - I don’t - you can’t just show up from nowhere after years of being gone and just call me that. And I’m not calling you dajiu. It’s weird.”
“Ah, that’s right, you were, what, barely a year old when I met you,” Wei-laoshi laughed, but it didn't reach his eyes. “Of course it’s weird. Sorry!”
‘Still recognized you on sight though,’ thought Sizhui, as Wei-laoshi rubbed the back of his head.
“And, uh, I haven’t told your mom. I thought I’d surprise her when she came to pick you up tonight.”
“ What .”
“Wait,” said Zizhen. “Are you the dajiu that travels for work and sends awesome birthday gifts every year?”
Wei-laoshi perked up. “Jin Ling, you liked my gifts? Your mom did say so but you know how she is, she’d never tell me otherwise.”
“They’re great,” Jingyi assured him, and gave him a thumbs up. “They’re the best .”
Wei-laoshi returned the gesture.
“Just to be clear,” Sizhui said. “Respectfully, Wei-laoshi, are you - are you Wei Wuxian?”
“I am,” he said. He glanced at Nie-laoshi. “Were you expecting someone else? I’m getting the distinct sense that you didn’t know I was coming.”
“Oh,” breathed Jingyi. “ Oh . Wei Wuxian. Jin Ling’s dajiu. Zizhen, you’re sitting next to a living legend .”
Zizhen nodded, equally wide-eyed. “Is it true you snuck porn into the library, past Lan xiaozhang?”
“Give your Nie-laoshi some credit too,” Wei-laoshi said magnanimously. “He was the one that brought it to school.”
“Did you really bring alcohol onto school grounds?” Jingyi asked eagerly. “And did Sizhui’s dad actually fight you for it?”
“No, Jingyi, Sizhui’s dad doesn’t drink, he -”
“My dad always said he didn’t actually make it onto school grounds - “
“Whose dad - ?”
“He didn’t fight Wei-laoshi because he wanted the alcohol, and they were on either side of the fence,” Sizhui said, and in the next breath, before anyone could interject, “Wei-laoshi, I’m Lan Sizhui, team captain. Thank you for taking the time to help us prepare. Should we get started with practice?”
To his relief - “Yes, enough chitchat,” agreed Nie-laoshi. He waved away Jingyi and Zizhen’s protests. “Wei-laoshi can tell you more stories when we’re done. Let’s not waste anymore time - we’ll review regional cuisines and specialty products, then break out the buzzers.”
He pointedly ignored Wei-laoshi, who was aggressively and incredulously mouthing the words, ‘Sizhui’s dad?’ at him. “Jin Ling, you can begin the reading.”
Over the sound of pages turning and mechanical pencils clicking, Sizhui could hear Zizhen murmur, “Think he’ll sign my notes?”
“We’ll ask nicely,” said Jingyi, and “Jin Ling, can I call him dajiu if you won’t?”