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“You have to do what?”
Nie Huaisang flicks his fan in a ragged rhythm, the only outward sign of nerve, and smiles over his Frappuccino at Jiang Cheng.
“It’s a comprehensive oral exam and defense. Any Nie clan disciple who wishes to become a full-fledged cultivator has to go through it. As an heir of the leader, mine happens at the end of high school, in a public forum. Baba’s renting out a ballroom, and there’ll be a big party after, and I really n—, I really want you to be there, A-Cheng.”
“Yeah, yeah, obviously,” Jiang Cheng says. He misses the pleased, rosy flush that colors Huaisang’s cheeks. “But why, though? The exam, not why me. Of course I’ll support you.” He reaches across the table for Huaisang’s hand.
“Oh, well, it started a while ago. I think Baba’s great-grandmother? She was leading the clan at the time after her husband succumbed to his saber spirit. She lost all four of her sons, a bunch of nephews, and her sister to qi deviations and decided to say ‘yeah, fuck tradition’ and made sure disciples learned not just fighting but more about the theoretical knowledge of qi, started a training program for doctors, and all that. She’s totally badass, and kind of my hero.”
“Well, yeah, she sounds awesome! But the exam?”
“Oh, it took a generation or two to sort everything out, and it just evolved into this big test.” Huaisang sighs and takes a sip of his drink. “I kept hoping Baba would change the whole public thing, especially since Da-ge is the real heir, but eh?” He shrugs and snaps his fan open and shut a few more times.
“Everybody has to take it in high school?”
“Nope, just the heirs!” Huaisang says brightly. “Since the sect is our whole lives and stuff. You know, we can’t be worried about university or travel or starting our own business or anything like that!”
Jiang Cheng frowns and squeezes Huaisang’s hand. “But. You want to be a Nie cultivator, right?”
Huaisang sighs again, and it’s shaky, the sort that is holding back tears. “Yeah, of course, A-Cheng. It’s my family. I would do anything to protect it.” He takes his hand back to swipe at a tear and then crosses his arms at his stomach, hands tucked tightly against his sides. “Wouldn’t you?”
Jiang Cheng’s gaze drops to the table. “Yeah.”
They sit, silent, as a group of students from the local performing arts high school tumble though the doors, bright and loud and carefree in a way that causes a spike of jealousy to pierce Jiang Cheng’s gut. Huaisang looks at them miserably. Jiang Cheng excuses himself from the table and slips in line ahead of the group. He brings a gigantic, pink-frosted sugar cookie back to the table and breaks off a piece for Huaisang.
“Thanks,” he whispers.
“What if we didn’t become cultivators?” Jiang Cheng asks as Huaisang watches the jolly group at the counter.
“Don’t talk nonsense,” Huaisang says, though his face softens as he looks back at Jiang Cheng.
Jiang Cheng sits up straighter. “No, I’m serious. What if we didn’t? What if we went to university like normal kids?”
“You don’t want that.”
“Maybe I do,” Jiang Cheng insists. “I’ve never really given it much thought. Maybe I’ll become a vet! Maybe you could be a painter or a teacher.”
“A-Cheng —“
“No, I’m serious! Why do we have to take over, just because we’re sons? Or do extra work? I know, I know,” he says, waving a hand to forestall an interruption, “we don’t want to be unfilial. But who says there isn’t more than one way to be filial?”
Huaisang’s expression softens into fondness. ”We help people. We keep them safe.”
“So do firefighters.”
“You wanna slide down a big pole?” Huaisang quips without thinking, and Jiang Cheng snorts a laugh.
“Nah,” he says, smirking, “I chose you, didn’t I?”
Huaisang’s affronted gasp further deepens Jiang Cheng’s grin, and a little of the weight leaves their shoulders.
“Indulge me a minute,” Jiang Cheng says.
“When do I ever deny you anything, A-Cheng?” Huaisang bats his eyelashes. Jiang Cheng flushes red and sputters, and Huaisang winks. “Just returning the favor.”
“Anyway!” Jiang Cheng says, clearing his throat. “Just, imagine it. For a minute. If we left. Where would we go?”
“Canada,” Huaisang says immediately.
“Really? Canada?”
“Yup!” Huaisang drinks more of his Frappuccino. “Oh,” he goes on when Jiang Cheng gives him a pointed stare, “did you want an explanation?”
“If you don’t mind.”
“Well.” Huaisang puts his elbows on the table and rests his chin on his folded hands. “It gets lots of snow.”
“You hate snow.”
“I do, but I love being cozy, and since this is a fantasy, I’m imagining a cozy cabin in the woods — a modern cabin, of course, not one of those rustic little log things.”
“Of course.”
“Of course. Anyway, cozy cabin. Lots of pillows, blankets, movies, a popcorn machine, hot chocolate and tea.” Huaisang sits back, picks up his fan, and taps his chin. “Art supplies. Board games. Candy. Oh, a dog!”
Jiang Cheng leans in. “What kind of dog?”
“Maybe two,” Huaisang continues, “a cute, fluffy little pomsky for me, something I can carry around in the pocket of my hoodie. And a Qinghe spiritual dog for you. One of da-ge’s friends breeds ones that look like golden retrievers. They aren’t so much for fighting as for protecting houses and families.” He smiles at Jiang Cheng. “We would definitely need one of those.”
“Even if we decided to leave our sects and not be cultivators?”
“We’d be rogue. A little rogue anyway.”
“A little rogue,” Jiang Cheng echoes. He’s no longer smiling.
“A-Cheng.” Huaisang gets up, drops into Jiang Cheng’s lap, and wraps his arms around Jiang Cheng’s neck, heedless of the looks the carefree teens give them. “I ruined your game.”
“No,” Jiang Cheng replies, settling his arms around Huaisang’s waist and giving his cheek a little peck. “I think sharing a cabin in the Canadian woods with you and some cute puppies would be a great way to live.”
“But we can’t.”
“No,” Jiang Cheng sighs. “We really can’t.” He leans forward to rest his cheek on Huaisang’s chest. “I’ll be at your defense, front row. I’ll make a big, sparkly sign.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely,” Jiang Cheng vows. “You think I wouldn’t come support you?”
“I think you wouldn’t make a big, sparkly sign,” Huaisang clarifies, kissing Jiang Cheng’s cheek.
Jiang Cheng pokes Huaisang’s side, provoking a fit of giggles. “Just you wait,” he says, poking Huaisang again, “it’s gonna block everyone’s view, and it’s gonna have three — no, four — colors of glitter.”
Huaisang sighs and squeezes Jiang Cheng tightly. “Do you want another coffee?” He stands up and collects their empty cups.
“I do, but aren’t your dad and brother expecting us to meet them for dinner?”
“Yeah, but if we can’t run away to be rogue cultivators, we could be a little rebellious and be late for dinner, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know, A-Sang, your brother is scary and your dad gives me this Look sometimes when…” He trails off when he catches Huaisang looking down at him with big, dewy eyes. “Come on, that’s not fair.”
Huaisang blinks and pouts.
“So not fair,” Jiang Cheng mutters. “Okay. Fine. I’ll take another iced coffee.”
Huaisang smiles and kisses Jiang Cheng on the cheek. “My treat.”
“And you’ll distract your dad if he gets mad?”
“He won’t get mad. But I promise to protect you from da-ge if you need it.”
“And that’s why you’re my favorite.”
Huaisang steals one more kiss. “Damn right I am.”