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There is a heaviness in the air that has nothing to do with the heat of the full sun that shimmers off the lake. The sky is clear and blue, the mountain breeze refreshing, but the pressure sits at the back of Jiang Cheng’s skull all the same.
He focuses on the pile of vegetables he’s been tasked with slicing and not the increasingly wild yarn Wei Ying is spinning for Xichen’s amusement, something about a sudden rainstorm and an open church. Jiang Cheng’s heard the story before, but Wei Ying has apparently appointed himself Master of Revels for their family weekend at the Lan Family cabin. It keeps him out of trouble — and away from the kitchen. Jiang Cheng catches Mingjue’s eye. They share a look, and so, Jiang Cheng can see Mingjue’s face fall half a second before he hears Jin Ling’s desperate cries of jiujiu! Come quick!
Jiang Cheng sets the knife down and turns in time to open his arms to his nephew and Lan Jingyi. Jin Ling is pale and wide-eyed, and Lan Jingyi bursts into tears the moment he’s safe in Jiang Cheng’s arms. Sizhui follows at their heels, his face set in grim determination.
“What the f— what happened?”
“Jiujiu, it’s Uncle Huaisang!”
Mingjue drops down to the eye level of the frightened boys. “Is he hurt?”
Jingyi shakes his head.
“Uh huh!” Jin Ling insists. “But in his, um, in here,” he says, hand over his heart. “His face did a thing, and he said to get you!”
Mingjue takes Jingyi from Jiang Cheng. “Go on.”
“Where is he?” Jiang Cheng asks.
“By the lake,” Sizhui replies. “Near the little dock that we jump off.”
“Go!” Mingjue urges.
“Come on, boys,” Xichen says as he joins Mingjue. “Let’s go to the game room.”
“But Uncle,” Jingyi says, rubbing his eyes, “we should help--”
“To the game room,” Xichen says, gently but firmly. “We can discuss our options there.”
Jin Ling casts a worried glance back at his jiujiu. Jiang Cheng pauses to kiss the top of his head.
“Go on with Xichen,” he says. “It’ll be alright.”
Jin Ling scowls. “Of course. My jiujiu can help anybody.”
Jiang Cheng squeezes Jin Ling’s shoulder briefly, and then makes his way to the lake.
He doesn’t have to go far. Huaisang crouches a few meters from the water’s edge, toes dug into the pebbly shore. He looks out over the water, but Jiang Cheng picks up his pace when he notices the ragged breaths that shake Huaisang’s entire body.
He crouches beside Huaisang, resting a hand tentatively on his back.
“A-Sang?”
Another breath shudders through Huaisang’s lithe frame. He hugs his knees to his chest, and his head rests on his knees as he continues to look away from Jiang Cheng.
“Huaisang?” Jiang Cheng sits cross-legged on the shore, close enough to touch Huaisang. “Babe? The littles said you wanted me?”
Huaisang turns his head now, and his wide, frightened eyes register Jiang Cheng. “Yes,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. “You’re here.”
“I am.” Jiang Cheng scoots a little closer, until his knees are almost touching Huaisang’s leg. “I’m here.”
“A-Cheng!”
Huaisang topples into Jiang Cheng’s lap, and Jiang Cheng cradles him close, arms tight as sobs tear through Huaisang.
They sit like that for a good half an hour. Jiang Cheng strokes Huaisang’s back, rocking him gently and murmuring occasional words of praise and comfort. He watches wispy cirrus clouds, like downy feathers, float across the sky over the lake. Somewhere in the trees to his left, the stuttering, chirrupy trills of a wren cuts through the rhythmic gravelly wash of lakewater on the shore, a counterpoint to Huaisang’s now-gentle sniffling and occasionally hiccup.
Jiang Cheng keeps his hold tight, only easing when Huaisang shifts in his lap to relax the tight curl of his body so he can rest his head against Jiang Cheng’s shoulder. Huaisang draws a shaky breath and absently strokes the worn flannel of his own shirt.
“Hey,” he says to Jiang Cheng.
“Hi.” Jiang Cheng kisses his temple. “I realize this might be an impossible question, but how are you feeling?”
Huaisang laughs weakly. “Better,” he says, snuggling against Jiang Cheng. “I needed that, but fuck, it takes a lot out of me.”
“Mmm.” Jiang Cheng combs through Huaisang’s hair with his fingers.
“It’s just, it’s so stupid,” Huaisang starts, but Jiang Cheng shushes him.
“Your feelings aren’t stupid.”
“They kind of are,” Huaisang argues. He taps his chest, then his forehead. “They get all stuffed in together, like I’m trying to put just one more thing in a bag at the grocery store, just one more, so I only have to carry one thing, but then of course I put something in with a sharp corner, and it tears the bag, and then everything just falls out, and I can’t get them picked up fast enough, and then, just, this.” He inhales sharply and breathes out, a punched out exhalation.
Jiang Cheng searches for the right thing to say, something to comfort him, but all he can come up with is, “Brains are the worst.”
Huaisang laughs, a brittle thing. “Yeah.” He shifts until he can stretch out his legs. They’re tanned from a week spent lounging on deck chairs and swimming in the lake, but a faint network of small white scars, hatch marked across his skin, is still visible. “I used to be able to vent things,” he says, running a hand over his leg, “and stave off a catastrophic failure of, you know, bag integrity. Until, of course, I didn’t. And we all know how that turned out.”
Jiang Cheng tries to keep his voice calm, but he cannot help tensing and tightening his grip on Huaisang. “Are you close, now, to a catastrophe?” he asks carefully.
Huaisang turns around in Jiang Cheng’s lap until he can wrap his legs around Jiang Cheng’s waist and his arms around Jiang Cheng’s neck. “No,” he says, “I don’t think so, anyway. But I think I’m not as good as I hoped.”
Jiang Cheng bites his lip. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t see--”
Huaisang silences him with a kiss. “No, it’s alright. Well,” he grimaces, “not all right, clearly, but I will definitely be bringing this up with Doctor Zhu when we get back next week.”
“Is there something I can do now?” Jiang Cheng asks.
Huaisang rests his head on Jiang Cheng’s shoulder. “My A-Cheng,” he says fondly, “if only we really could fight our demons in, like, single combat.”
“I’d fight them all,” he says, striving to keep a light voice and a light touch as he strokes Huaisang’s back. “I’d fuck ‘em up, you know I would.”
“I know, baby.” Huaisang sounds wistful.
They sit together a while, not speaking, listening to the water and birdsong.
“Can I ask, um, if I could, you know, fight a demon today…” Jiang Cheng tries to marshal his thoughts into something soft, and Huaisang laughs and takes pity on him.
“What set me off, you mean? So you can avoid it in the future? My sweet, noble A-Cheng.” Huaisang kisses him. “If only it were that easy.” He rests his chin on Jiang Cheng’s shoulder. “When I was about seven, I came home from school, and my mom was sitting on the balcony of our apartment, crying.”
Huaisang’s voice catches, and Jiang Cheng squeezes him tightly until he can go on.
“We had this wooden lattice around the perimeter, to give a bit of shade and privacy. Mama also had some flowering vines planted in boxes along one end. It was nice. Anyway, that day, a little bird, one of those brown and white house sparrows, had gotten its leg caught in the lattice. She tried to free it, but I guess it was too traumatic and it’s heart gave out. Mama was devastated.
“She was sitting on the floor by the bird, just heartbroken. She was always pretty stoic except when it came to animals. But she was also really action-oriented. She and da-ge were so similar that way. So she decided she wanted to learn how to help animals. She started volunteering at a wildlife sanctuary that specialized in helping birds. She took me with her sometimes, more as I got older. Mama learned how to splint broken wings and do, like, small first aid things.” He sighs against Jiang Cheng. “I mostly drew pictures, but they let me design posters for fundraisers and things. I even painted some pictures they turned into postcards to sell in their shop.”
“Is that why Mingjue calls you Little Bird?”
“Yeah.” Huaisang leans back and starts to get up, smiling at Jiang Cheng’s grumble of protest. “Hush. I know my bony butt is making your leg go numb.” He settles in beside Jiang Cheng, tucks himself under Jiang Cheng’s right arm, and reaches over for his left hand to hold. He then waves his free hand over towards a cluster of pines a dozen or so yards away.
“I was out exploring with the littles, and they kept bringing me back feathers and things, and then Jingyi yelped, and when I went over to check it out…” He takes a deep breath and squeezes Jiang Cheng’s hand tightly. “He’d found a bird. Well, just a wing and a bit of its body. No doubt a hawk was disturbed during its dinner and left a bit behind.”
“Shit, really?” Jiang Cheng lets go of Huaisang’s hand so he can properly embrace him.
“Yeah, and it just, it reminded me of my mama, of the times we spent out in parks and hiking. She was, like, so soft about things, but also, she would be really realistic about, like, just how nature worked, and I was imagining how she would have calmed the littles down, and I wanted to do that, too, and be so caring and smart like her, and ---” Huaisang’s crying again, so he just waves his hand vaguely.
Jiang Cheng holds him close. “Yeah, I get that.”
“I think I scared the kids,” Huaisang says, wiping his face with the sleeve of his hoodie.
“We can talk to them later tonight, explain if you want.”
Huaisang draws a breath, and he’s still a bit weepy when he says, “I don’t want them to worry.”
“We already worry,” Jiang Cheng says, wincing when Huaisang tenses in his arms. “I mean, just, as people. We worry about the people we love.” He kisses Huaisang’s cheek.
“Yeah, okay, I guess.” Huaisang wipes his face again. “Ugh. I needed this, I think, but it leaves me feeling like hot garbage after.”
“Come on.” Jiang Cheng stands and holds out his hand to help Huaisang up. “I’ll get you some ibuprofen, and you can take a nap.” He tugs Huaisang’s arm. “Come on, get up.”
“I’m not an invalid, A-Cheng. You don’t have to carry me around.”
Jiang Cheng smiles. “So you didn’t want a piggyback ride?”
Huaisang rolls his eyes as Jiang Cheng pulls him to his feet. “I didn’t say that,” he grouses as he clambers onto Jiang Cheng’s back.
Huaisang sleeps through the rest of the afternoon and evening, straight through dinner, and wakes with a start long after dark. He rolls over, smushing himself into Jiang Cheng’s side, and mutters something that might be, “What time is it?”
Jiang Cheng sets his tablet aside and slides down in bed to lay alongside Huaisang.
“Around ten,” he says, hushed in the yellow lamplight. “You hungry? Thirsty?”
“Mmmph.” Huaisang starts to wiggle under Jiang Cheng’s arm, but stops. He blinks a few times, then rolls onto his back. He holds out a pair of plush animals: a squishy round fox and a well-loved husky. “What?”
Jiang Cheng smiles and takes the husky. “Jingyi and Jin Ling. They snuck in while I was in the shower, and when I came back, these were tucked under each of your arms.” He pulls back the duvet. “Ah.” He finds a small fleece blanket, pale blue and dotted with little bunnies. “Sizhui left something as well.”
Huaisang hauls himself upright and leans against the headboard. He hugs the fox to his chest. “Too good,” he says sleepily. He flops against Jiang Cheng. “All of you.”
Jiang Cheng puts an arm around Huaisang and rests his cheek against the top of his head and strokes his arm, soft as feathers. “Nah,” he says, “good enough, lucky to have you.”
Huaisang makes another noise, something faint and possibly embarrassed, and Jiang Cheng kisses the top of his head. He draws the blanket up over Huaisang, reaches back to turn off the lamp, and snuggles down next to Huiasang.
“You belong right here with us, with me,” he whispers, tucking Huaisang in close to his chest. “Right here.”
The world goes on outside of the protective circle of blankets and pillows and Jiang Cheng’s arms, and Huaisang wakes just enough to kiss Jiang Cheng. Tomorrow, he will feel the sun and rest under the clear blue sky, but tonight, love is a black winged bird, and it nests in his heart, and he sleeps.