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Binghe had never liked big family dinners.
The moment he showed up, the first question he got would always be the same.
They wouldn't ask how he’d been. The only thing they care about would be: have you chosen your instrument yet?
And Binghe's answer would always come in the form of a polite smile and a shake of the head, indicating that he hadn’t chosen one. He wouldn't choose any.
Despite growing up in a family that cherished traditional art, he had never been interested in trying to walk the path everyone expected him to take.
People would ask,
“Do you play guzheng like your dad?”
“Oh. Pipa, like your mom then?”
“..Grandpa's dizi?”
And by the third question, Binghe would usually answer before he received another; “I don’t play anything. And no, I don’t have any plans to.”
Heck, get over it already! So what if his dad was quite influential in this field of traditional art? That didn't mean Binghe needed to be like him too. Or his mom. Or anyone else.
He was his own person, and he avoided art because people were expecting him to be like someone else. Someone he was not. He didn't want that.
His dad once said that one does not simply choose to pursue art—the art chooses them; to which, Binghe only scoffed.
"So you're trying to say," he muttered, gesturing at the traditional music instruments in his dad's practice room. "They all chose you?"
His dad had only sent him a thoughtful look. Seeming to think for a while before declaring, "I'm quite irresistible."
And that was it. Binghe couldn't even hold back his laughter as he hit the old man's shoulder, anger all forgotten. Saying, "You wish!"
His dad was quite the storyteller. Both through his music and through his words, Binghe had enjoyed them all in private. Though in public, most of the time he could be seen scowling throughout the entire thing.
This time, too, wasn't an exception.
They had just finished dinner when the elders asked his dad to play. Binghe just simply rolled his eyes and left for the second floor, where it was less crowded.
The guzheng sounded great in his dad's hands, sure. Wild too sometimes. But still.. toned down. Catered to people’s expectation on the grace of traditional instruments. Not the sound Binghe wanted to hear.
Like, sweet child o’ mine on the guzheng? Anime osts he had made his dad play? Sasageyo sasageyo, oshiete yo? Those carefree performances were reserved for him only! None of his dad's public performances could compare.
"You're playing?" He heard someone ask.
Binghe didn't even bother to look up, eyes focused on his phone screen. His in-game character had just been deployed from the plane. Ready to kick some ass. "Mm. Can't you see?"
Then he felt the couch dip beside him. The stranger said nothing. Probably watching him play? Binghe could care less.
He only looked up from his phone once the game was done. And dang he regretted not looking up sooner!
"We're not related," he stated. Making the gorgeous, gorgeous stranger raise his GORGEOUS eyebrow; the corner of his lips tugging into a GORGEOUS little, amused smile. Too gorgeous, Binghe wanted to run!
"We're not," the gorgeous man confirmed. He only looked slightly older than Binghe, but the.. fuck. Binghe had never been this awestruck. And glad! Because they were not related!
Binghe cleared his throat. Putting away his phone as he sat up straight. Asking, "And whose guest could you be?"
His cousins sometimes bring friends over. Lovers too. Binghe hoped it wasn't the latter for this man though.
"Gongyi Xiao," the man said. "I got kicked out of his room though, he told me to wait here for a bit."
Oh how Binghe wanted to cry out in joy. The last time he checked, that cousin of his was as single as he could be. Not a lover, then! He had to make sure though, "You two are friends?"
"Mm. He's my senior in the academy." He nodded. Then upon receiving a confused look from Binghe, he added, "Oh, I just started playing. You know how he's a prodigy."
The man tilted his head. Chuckling lightly as he spoke, "Everyone in your family is very skilled, it seems. I see so many familiar faces!"
"Well. That would be everyone except me," Binghe said, pointing at himself. He was smiling though. "Anyone you'd like to get an autograph from?"
"Oh." The man blinked, not expecting the question. But then Binghe could see the tip of his ears getting red. "I.. uh. I saw." He got even redder! "I saw.. Su Xiyan. Just before. You think I could.. ask for a sign?"
"Good news for you, she happened to be my mom." Binghe couldn't be more grateful! Ignoring the little gasp from the man, Binghe took his phone back into his hand. "Maybe if you tell me your name and phone number, I could-"
"You're not lying, are you?" The man cut him off. An accusing look now thrown at him. "Because if you are, I swear I'm going to-"
Now it was Binghe's turn to cut him off, "Why would I lie about my own mom!"
That seemed to shut him up. The man pursed his lips, seeming to think for a while before reaching for Binghe's phone. "Here, let me."
Binghe let him. Eyes never leaving the man's face as he typed in his number. Once he got his phone back though, his cousin's voice echoed, "Gege, get back here! I've finished the piece!"
And just like that, the man jumped up from his seat. "The sign," he reminded Binghe before leaving.
Binghe watched until he couldn't see him anymore. Then he looked down at his phone.
Shen Qingqiu.
--
Binghe asked his mom for a signature.
Mom🤦🏻💛
U got into troubles at school?
He frowned at the text. He replied though,
Binghe
I mean like sign sign
Also could u write something sweet
But not like, too sweet.
Just like. Idk what do u usually write, mom?
Just something like have a nice day! Or like, marry my son! Or smth like that
Mom🤦🏻💛
Why would i ask anyone to marry my son
I only hv 1
Binghe
Whats that supposed to mean even
Dont answer i dont wanna know
CANT U JUST GIVE ME A SIGN ALREADY
for shen qingqiu pls pls i'll go downstairs and be a good boy and listen to whatever grandpa's saying for the rest of the night
Mom🤦🏻💛
Ok
Down now
Binghe
Coming
Alright, so. Binghe went downstairs. Did as he promised. He could be really charming when he had to, nodding and smiling at whatever the old man was saying.
When he finally got his mom's signature though, Qingqiu was no longer there. He barged into his cousin's room and asked, but all he got was, "Oh. He left." And, "You wanna hear my new song?"
Binghe slammed the door shut.
The song was already sent to him by the time he got home.
Binghe
Why do u keep sending me these i dont even wanna hear
GYX👎
Qiu ge made the first half
Binghe
Fuck
GYX👎
Also few of the latest files i sent u
Binghe
FUCK SEND ME AGAIN I GOT THEM DELETED
GYX👎
👀
He got the files. Also a few other links. Videos, it seemed. Binghe went through them.. one by one.
Maybe Qingqiu lied when he said he just started playing.
Binghe could swear he felt the music reaching for him. Embracing him warm.
By the third video, he knew he was falling. Maybe he already was falling. But just, deeper. Much deeper.
He also knew he had to play guqin. He had to play guqin. With Qingqiu, he had to. He wanted to be the one in his cousin's place! Wanted to be the one next to Qingqiu!
So he barged into his dad's practice room. Declaring, "Dad, I've chosen my instrument."
Upon hearing this, of course his dad couldn't help but to cry in joy! Let the the art chooses you be damned. His son had chosen his own instrument!
"Oh, really?" His dad asked, looking up from where he was seated. "I wonder what would that be!"
"Guqin," Binghe replied without a doubt.
More reasons to cry in joy!
"But on one condition." Binghe held up one finger. His dad intently listened. "It has to be Shen Qingqiu."
His dad blinked. Not quite getting what his son meant by that, he asked, "You mean, that rising star? A-Xiao's friend?"
"Private lesson," said Binghe, nodding firmly. "Shen Qingqiu. That, or no instruments at all."
"Oh.." his dad nodded, processing. Then..
"You rascal!" He shrieked, realization dawning upon him. "That's not you choosing an instrument! That's you choosing a husband!"
Binghe's eyes went wide at this. "Can I make him my husband?"
"No!" His dad said, standing up and marched toward him to pinch his cheek. "You haven't even finished high school!"
"I will be in a few months!" said Binghe, failing miserably to break free.
His dad pinched his other cheek! "What are you going to feed him with! Your high school diploma?" More pinching!
"Dad, dad! Ow-" Binghe pushed his dad away. "What did you feed mom with!"
Now that seemed to do the trick.
His dad finally let go of him, thinking. Then, "Well.."
His dad was shunned by his own family for pursuing music. His mom fell in love with him though—with his music. All of him. She provided him shelter and all he needed until he could stand on his own feet.
He loved her too, that one was clear. It was never about the money.
"Exactly!" Binghe stood up straight. Giving his dad an understanding look as he patted his old man's shoulder. Saying, "Besides, I'm your only son."
His dad had started to nod along before his mind registered those words. "Are you telling me to die fast so you can inherit my property!"
Binghe gasped. A genuine one. "I have a rich dad, that's what I mean!"
He could never have a serious talk with his dad. Nor his mom. Binghe groaned. "Dad, seriously. Why would I want you to die! I love you."
The three magic words though. He grew up listening to those thrown at him so casually to the point that he had no shame saying it whenever. Even all grown up like this.
"Aww, I love you too," his dad said, followed by a big fat smooch on his forehead. Binghe smiled. Though his hand immediately wiped. "Okay, you can get married."
...that was not what he was asking for, but alright.
"And have a private lesson?" Binghe asked.
"And have a private lesson," his dad confirmed.
"Okay." Binghe went in for a hug, letting his dad squeeze him in his arms. "I'll tell mom I'm getting married."
"Don't forget to invite me," his dad said.
Binghe rolled his eyes. Because, really?! "Of course I will!"
He rushed to tell his mom then.
"Oh, really?" His mom asked, not even looking up from her phone screen. "Congratulations."
What a weird response to your son getting married. But okay. Binghe shrugged, going up to his room.
He texted Qingqiu then.
Binghe
(sends a picture)
I promised u a sign
Shen Qingqiu
Oh GOD you're really her son???
Thank you! Oh my god
I've been a fan since high school
Please tell her I said hi
Binghe
Why don't u tell her urself
We're getting married anyway
Shen Qingqiu
Sorry what?
Binghe
Oh i mean my dad just said yes
To us getting married
Shen Qingqiu
Us?
Binghe
Yeah. Like, you and me?
Us?
Shen Qingqiu
I don't remember ever saying yes to that?
Nor did I receive any proposals in that matter.
Binghe
That could be arranged
Shen Qingqiu
I think you're crazy
Binghe
I heard that a lot
When are u free though can i have a guqin lesson
My dad also said yes to me getting a guqin lesson from u
Shen Qingqiu
…
You know what
Binghe
What?
Shen Qingqiu
Nevermind.
I'm free next weekend.
Binghe
Oh cool
Would you like to get married next weekend
Shen Qingqiu
I mean for the private lesson
Binghe
I've never said anything about it being private?;)
The typing bubble hovered for quite long before Binghe finally got his answer.
Shen Qingqiu
Shut up.
Next weekend, 3pm. I'll send you my address.
Looking at his phone, Binghe squealed.
Maybe his feelings were returned! Or maybe not. Would people even believe in love at the first sight these days? Binghe had no idea.
He was set to find out though.
Next weekend. So he sent his (hopefully) future husband a reply,
Binghe
Can't wait!