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It was a Friday evening, and Jiang Cheng was just entering the parking garage to leave his office when his phone buzzed in his pocket.
Shifting his briefcase, purple reusable water bottle, and scarf to his other hand, he pulled the device from his pocket. He sighed briefly when he saw who was calling.
“What is it?” he asked, pressing the phone to his ear.
“Hello, brother dear,” Wei Ying began, his voice already saccharine sweet.
Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes as he pressed his ear and shoulder together long enough to dig out his keys. “What do you want this time? Please don’t tell me you need help burying another body.”
Wei Ying squawked over the line. “Excuse me! That was one time, and it was a deer and I cried about it for a week…plus my car was totaled, so I needed a ride home anyway!”
“Yeah, yeah.” Jiang Cheng cursed as his keys fell on his foot. “So what do you want?”
Wei Ying cleared his throat. “Yes… well, you see. There’s a classical Chinese music performance at the Gusu Theatre tonight.”
“And?”
“And Lan Zhan bought tickets, but I completely forgot to book a babysitter because of that gas leak at work last week.”
Jiang Cheng almost dropped his keys again. “There was a gas leak at your job?! Are you alright? What happened?”
“Ah, yeah, no, it’s fine. I just hallucinated a little the first day. But anyway—“
“Brother dear,” Jiang Cheng gritted out, angrily setting his things atop the hood of his sports car. His blood pressure had gone through the roof in a few short seconds. He didn’t understand how anyone could be so infuriating. “Why didn’t you tell me about the gas leak sooner? That’s a major safety issue! How many people were hurt? Who do I need to sue?”
“Good heavens,” Wei Ying sighed. “Didi, look, I’m flattered you’re willing to litigate on my behalf, but it was just a freak accident. One of the screws corroded and a pipe burst. It doesn’t matter. Everyone’s fine. It was only in my wing of the lab, and my husband already nursed me to death when I got home from the ER.”
The ER!! What the actual fuck??
Jiang Cheng just barely resisted the urge to grind his teeth. Therapy was good. Therapy taught him breathing techniques for dealing with his idiot brother— among other things. “So why are you calling?”
“A babysitter!” Wei Ying stressed across the line. “A-Yuan is too young to join me and Lan Zhan tonight, but I forgot to book our usual date night babysitter. Can I drop him off with you? A-Jie said you’ll have Jin Ling tonight.”
Jiang Cheng considered his two nephews. Jin Ling seemed to be a tiny storm made from the wildest parts of Wei Ying and Jiang Cheng— all mischief and temper. Lan Yuan was sweet, thoughtful, and smiled like the sunshine in the best combination of Jiang Yanli and Wei Ying.
Jiang Cheng refused to credit either of his brothers-in-law with anything.
Well, he blamed Jin Ling’s arrogance on Jin Zixuan. Lan Yuan had no real faults that could be blamed on Lan Zhan. It was almost a shame the man’s biggest crime in baby-rearing was insisting on table manners.
“Yeah, sure. What time will you be dropping him off? A-Ling is still obsessed with Moana, so I hope A-Yuan can handle watching the movie on loop.”
Wei Ying laughed, and the stupid noise was so infectious that Jiang Cheng couldn’t help chuckling, too.
“My little radish will be coming with his blocks because Nie Huaisang gave him a building guide and we haven’t known peace since. He won’t care what’s on.” Wei Ying hummed in thought. “Well, it’s almost six-ish now. Can we drop him off at half past?”
Jiang Cheng finally situated himself in the car and started the engine, running his hands over the steering wheel. “Yeah, I’m picking up A-Ling now, so I’ll be home in time. Is A-Yuan going to stay the night, too?”
“Oh! Hmm, one sec, let me check.” Jiang Cheng listened as his brother shifted the phone away before calling, “Lan Zhan! Sweetheart, what time does the event go until, tonight? Oh… that’s so late for you! Alright. Yes— oh!”
Jiang Cheng closed his eyes and banged his head against the steering wheel. His forehead ended up honking the horn and startling the group of businessmen across the garage. Thank heavens he had not actually started driving yet when he had to contend with his horrible brother and brother-in-law making such shameless sounds.
“You—!” Wei Ying sputtered, gross and breathless, over the line. “Get out of here, don’t make us late.” The phone shifted again. “A-Cheng?”
He hoped Wei Ying could hear every ounce of suffering when he groaned, “Yeah?”
“We’ll pack a bag so A-Yuan can spend the night. Are you sure you’re good with two little ones all night?”
Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes. “They’ve both slept over before.”
“Not simultaneously,” Wei Ying fretted.
“Ge.” It was a bit of a dirty move, but addressing his brother like so had always been a very practical way to shut him up. “It’ll be fine. Besides, your kid is super sweet and low maintenance.”
He could almost see Wei Ying preening in the understated, elegant penthouse apartment Lan Zhan had settled them in. Old money. “Yes, he is a great little boy, huh? Alright, we’ll see you soon! Love you, bye!”
“Love you, too,” Jiang Cheng replied, because he had to. No matter how annoying his brother was, he couldn’t risk the words going unsaid. Never again. Not after he almost lost him once back in college.
…
Jiang Cheng had only just plopped Jin Ling and his bags down in the living room when his doorbell rang.
Jin Ling’s little head perked up at once. “Door!?”
Jiang Cheng snorted as Jin Ling scrambled after him to see the newcomers.
“Don’t run in socks,” he scolded, catching the toddler by the collar before he could slide. “Where are your slippers?”
Jin Ling frowned up at him, looking more like a disgruntled kitten.
“Ugh. Never mind. Just don’t run.”
“Hello, hello!” Wei Ying greeted when Jiang Cheng swung the door in. He had a kid on his hip and a broad, sparkling grin on his face.
Jin Ling’s eyes widened as he chirped out an awestruck, “Pretty, Dajiu!”
“Aw, thanks, A-Ling!”
In Wei Ying’s arms, Lan Yuan nodded proudly. “Baba and A-Die are super pretty,” he said, completely serious. Ugh, he was such a little Lan. Jiang Cheng shouldn’t find it so adorable in miniature.
Wei Ying laughed and nuzzled his cheek against his son’s, which drew giggles from the little boy. With Lan Zhan looking fondly upon his family, they looked perfect enough to be from the pages of some fancy parenting magazine. It was sickening, but it also made warmth bloom behind Jiang Cheng’s ribs.
Jin Ling was still entranced by the elegant clothes and hair, and Jiang Cheng couldn’t blame the kid for staring.
If Wei Ying hadn’t become a bioengineer, he could have easily been a model for his husband’s fashion company— a fact which Jiang Cheng was reminded of far too often, usually in the form of his work friends drooling over his dumb brother. Seriously, Jiang Cheng had never seen so many middle-aged lawyers experience sexuality crises as he did when his brother came to the last company picnic. Chang Ping had walked directly into a goal post because Wei Ying had bent over to pick up a frisbee.
Tonight, Wei Ying’s hair was swept back in an elegant updo with silver and red hair pins. The look framed his metallic red eyelids and revealed the many silver piercings in his ears.
He and his husband were both decked out in modern hanfu. Wei Ying was eye-catching in a black, floral top tucked into blood red skirts. Lan Zhan was attired in demure blue and white that had been clearly made as a counterpart to Wei Ying’s ensemble. Jiang Cheng assumed that Lan Zhan must be the party responsible for this aesthetically pleasing horror, since his brother never had the foresight for this kind of thing.
“Matching outfits, huh?” Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes. “Are we still in high school?”
“Lan Zhan and I were idiots back then,” Wei Ying said in an utterly horrible defense. “We missed out on wearing couple clothes!”
“Mn,” Lan Zhan agreed in his usual stiff way. “They are also for the coming winter line.”
It sounded to Jiang Cheng like a nice excuse for Lan Zhan to play dress up with his brother. Their sister would be cooing about it if she were present.
“Yuan-ge?” Jin Ling whined, craning his neck to look up at his favorite playmate.
“Oh, my bad.” Wei Ying crouched down and set Lan Yuan on the ground. “Go say ‘hi,’ baobei.”
The moment Lan Yuan’s feet were on the floor, Jin Ling nearly tackled his cousin in an enthusiastic hug that set both boys off giggling and all three adults melting.
After a minute, Lan Yuan seemed to remember his manners.
The five-year-old glanced up at his dads shyly before turning back to his uncle and hugging his thigh. “Hello, Shushu. I can play with A-Ling tonight?”
Jiang Cheng ruffled Lan Yuan’s fluffy bangs. “Yep, it’s just the three of us tonight.”
Wei Ying scooped up Jin Ling, who had been admiring the subtle cloud pattern on Lan Zhan’s robes. “Hey, kiddo! Can Dajiu get a kiss?”
Jin Ling giggled and obediently kissed Wei Ying’s cheek. “Movie?” he asked. “Moana and ocean and fire lady and, and,” he frowned, gesticulating, “HeiHei!”
Wei Ying grinned and nuzzled noses with his nephew. “As much as I’d love to watch Moana with you, your jiuzhang and I have to go.”
Jin Ling pouted, and his chubby face turned thunderous. “Dajiu…”
“What a scary little face!” Wei Ying said, poking Jin Ling’s scrunched forehead. “Don’t worry, A-Ling, we’ll bring you back a present, and next week you get to come stay with us.”
And just like that, the clouds dissipated. “A present!?”
Wei Ying offered his pinky. “Promise.”
A tiny, chubby pinky wrapped around Wei Ying’s bony finger. “Good,” Jin Ling decided with a little nod of his head.
Jiang Cheng petted Lan Yuan and scolded his brother. “You’re going to spoil the kids if you always promise them presents like that.”
“I’m allowed,” Wei Ying retorted with a grin. “After all, these sweet little boys deserve the best! Right, little ones?”
“Mm!”
“Presents!” Jin Ling added, helpfully.
Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes. “You’re the worst.”
“I’m the best, actually.”
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan interjected, softly.
“Ah, sorry, sweetheart. I know you want to find a good parking spot. Okay, we’d better get going!” He shifted Jin Ling on his hip so the toddler was better facing Lan Zhan. “A-Ling, say goodbye to Jiuzhang!”
Jin Ling waved one inexplicably sticky hand. “Bye bye.”
Lan Zhan’s face softened as he stroked Jin Ling’s feathery hair. “Take care.”
Wei Ying pressed a loud kiss to Jin Ling’s cheek before setting him back down.
“Alright, A-Yuan,” he began, facing his own son, “be good for Shushu, okay? There’s only one of him, but two of you munchkins tonight.”
After exchanging his light-up sneakers for a pair of tiny house slippers, Lan Yuan nodded very seriously. “Yes, Baba.”
Wei Ying looked like he was holding back laughter. “Ah, you’re too cute. Have fun, okay? We’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
A warm smile split Lan Yuan’s face, and in moments like this, it was hard to believe that Wei Ying hadn’t birthed the kid himself, as he often joked.
Jiang Cheng had seen that same brilliant smile millions of times on Wei Ying’s face. It was the kind of smile that cold blooded creatures like himself could endlessly bask in.
If this was how strong nurture was in the case against nature, maybe it was for the best, Jiang Cheng thought, that he was only an uncle and didn’t have kids of his own to pick up his habits directly. He made a mental note to unpack that at his next therapy session.
Lan Zhan and Wei Ying crouched on either side of their son, pressed kisses to his dumpling-round cheeks, hugged him tight, and then gave him extra kisses for good measure.
Then, Lan Zhan passed a Pikachu backpack and a large, clear package of brightly colored blocks to Jiang Cheng. “Thank you.”
Jiang Cheng nodded. “Of course. I’m always happy to watch A-Yuan,” he said, hefting the tiny backpack over his shoulder so he could set an hand atop each of his nephews’ heads. “Enjoy the concert.”
Lan Zhan gave a brisk nod to Jiang Cheng before turning back to the kids and offering what might be a smile. Jiang Cheng was still so unused to emotion on the man. Usually it was easier to guess Lan Zhan’s mood by watching Wei Ying’s expressions.
Wei Ying caught him watching and arched a brow, so Jiang Cheng pulled a face at his older brother.
When Wei Ying started snickering, Jiang Cheng punched his arm.
He received a swift punch back, followed up by a gross kiss on the cheek.
“Ugh! Get off me,” he grumbled, trying to hide his smile.
His brother was still laughing. “Bye, boys. Have a good night!”
And then Wei Ying tossed his long hair over one shoulder, blew a kiss, and left on the arm of his husband.
…
Thanks to the recipe cards from his sister, Jiang Cheng was able to prepare a dinner of very passable minchee. He even managed to do it without breaking the fried egg yolks despite the tiny heart attack Lan Yuan gave him.
There had been one alarming moment during cooking when the littlest Lan had tugged on his pant leg. “Shushu. Shushu.” He sounded faint over the racket Jin Ling was making with that cursed toy piano Meng Yao had given the boys.
“What’s up?”
“Did you know A-Ling likes butt play?”
An indescribable melting pot of rage and horror and shock congealed in his stomach.
For a long moment, he contemplated whether he would have to murder his brother for being shameless in front of the kids again. It had taken weeks to get Jin Ling to stop saying “‘ucked up!” to everything he found even mildly inconvenient.
On the other side of the city, Wei Ying shivered in the concert hall without knowing why.
“A-Yuan,” Jiang Cheng gritted out, “what do you mean?”
“Look,” Lan Yuan said, gesturing to Jin Ling in living room. “Butt play.”
Oh.
He sighed in relief and let the murderous rage slip away. His fingers slowly unfurled from the knife. “Butt… play.”
As in Jin Ling was playing the discordant piano keys by bouncing on them with his potty-training-pull-up-clad butt.
The children, thankfully, made no further attempts on his life or sanity that evening. Dinner proceeded smoothly.
Jin Ling and Lan Yuan happily gobbled down their kid-sized portions of minchee— or, rather, Jin Ling gobbled while Lan Yuan somehow managed to find a speed slow enough to be polite, but fast enough to give himself a bout of the hiccups.
After washing some very sticky little hands, Jiang Cheng settled himself in the living room with the kids.
“Moana!” Jin Ling insisted, holding his HeiHei plushie up for all to see.
Before Jiang Cheng could respond, Lan Yuan smiled— this one indulgent in a way that he must have learned from Lan Huan— and patted Jin Ling’s head. “What do we say, A-Ling?”
“Moana?” Jin Ling asked again, quieter this time. He was always loathe to disappoint his beloved Yuan-ge.
Lan Yuan shook his head gently. Baby to baby communication was too cute. Jiang Cheng was having chest pains from watching this conversation. “The magic word,” Lan Yuan reminded.
Jin Ling’s eyes widened. “Oh! Please, Erjiu!”
“There you, go,” Jiang Cheng said, ruffling Jin Ling’s hair as he grabbed the remote and queued up the film.
Jin Ling settled as close to the screen as he could get, neck craned up to watch every detail with rapt attention.
Lan Yuan observed for a minute before reaching for his building block set. From his Pikachu backpack, he pulled out a surprisingly thick, laminated booklet that he set carefully on the carpet before arranging each block by color and type.
Jiang Cheng watched the methodical sorting as well as the determined scrunch of Lan Yuan’s brow. He looked as severe as Lan Zhan, but his eyes held that same intelligent glint that Wei Ying got anytime he had a new a idea— which was often.
By the time Moana set off on her adventure, Jin Ling was in tears from the story, and Lan Yuan was standing to admire his handiwork in building a recognizable pagoda.
He walked around the blocks with a broad, pleased expression, like a little king surveying his domain.
Apparently satisfied, Lan Yuan nodded to himself one last time, looking as intense as a small child in overalls possibly could, before he swept a hand out and— in a move so incredibly dramatic that it could only have been learned from Nie Huaisang— knocked all the blocks down with an uproarious crash.
Jin Ling jumped with a surprised cry, dragging his eyes away from the screen just long enough to glare and whine, “Yuan-ge!”
“Sorry, A-Ling,” Lan Yuan said, barely looking up from where he was back to sorting his pile of blocks. Jiang Cheng didn’t miss the little smile on Lan Yuan’s face.
Jiang Cheng snorted and settled in with a case briefing while keeping one eye on his nephews.
Over the course of the movie, Lan Yuan built and destroyed four more little architectural masterpieces. Jiang Cheng discreetly took pictures to later be sent into the sibling group chat.
By the time Moana returned to her island, Jin Ling’s energy was flagging.
Even Lan Yuan was blinking slower, his blocks were neatly tucked away before he settled in Jiang Cheng’s lap. Like any good Lan, bedtime was drilled into his tiny nephew.
“Sleep soon, huh?”
Lan Yuan nodded into his shoulder. Jiang Cheng ran his fingers through the little boy’s hair. He smelled like a mix of his fathers— sandalwood and sweet spice. And a little bit of some ambiguously fruity children’s shampoo.
It didn’t take long for Lan Yuan to drift off in his lap with one soft cheek smushed against his shoulder. The dramatic part of Jiang Cheng’s brain declared, not for the first time, that he would die for these kids.
As soon as the credits began to roll, Jiang Cheng switched the TV off and snatched Jin Ling up with his free arm.
Never one to take things quietly, Jin Ling grumbled half-heartedly and insisted that he could watch the movie again.
“You can’t.”
“Erjiu!”
“It’s bath time and then bed.”
“No,” Jin Ling said mutinously. His lower lip wobbled with the threat of meltdown.
“A-Ling,” Lan Yuan murmured, still half-asleep, “bedtime is important.”
Jin Ling’s brow scrunched, but he argued no further.
Maybe Jiang Cheng should borrow his older nephew more often when he had Jin Ling. Lan Yuan already had better manners than either Jiang brother, much to their sister’s chagrin.
Bath time was an absolute mess.
Thank fuck someone invented the tear-free children’s wash because Jin Ling was determined to get soap in his eyes while washing everything in the bathroom except himself.
A thoroughly drenched and tired Lan Yuan, despite being borderline cranky himself, valiantly assisted in calming a tantrum about the rubber ducky Jiang Cheng revoked after being squirted in the face one time too many.
“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he grumbled, patting Jin Ling dry as the toddler puffed up his cheeks and glared into the mirror.
Lan Yuan quickly rinsed off while Jiang Cheng combed Jin Ling’s hair.
Jin Ling’s pajamas had cute little puppy faces that Wei Ying would detest. Jin Zixuan must have been the party responsible for this purchase.
When he was dry and combed, Lan Yuan donned blue pajamas with black and white bunnies. Jiang Cheng didn’t know which father to blame for that cuteness.
After going potty and brushing teeth, the boys were both drooping and ready for bed.
“Everybody in,” Jiang Cheng said, lifting the covers on the race-car bed he’d bought simply because Lan Yuan had stared longingly at it in a storefront window two years ago.
(“Why did you buy a bed for my son?” Wei Ying had asked, bemused. “He already has one.”
“Well now he has one at my house, too.” Jiang Cheng had snapped.
“Aww, Chengcheng, such a softie! You could have just asked to watch him overnight. Lan Zhan and I would love the occasional chance to not have to be quiet.”
After which, he’d pushed his laughing brother off the curb.)
Jin Ling clambered in against the wall and Lan Yuan settled beside his cousin.
“Shushu? Will you read us a story, please?” Lan Yuan asked, not quite hiding his big yawn behind his little hand.
“As long as it’s not another Dr. Seuss tongue twister,” he relented, remembering the sting of embarrassment from trying to read Fox in Socks only to be laughed at by small children.
The tiniest glimmer of mischief twinkled in Lan Yuan’s gaze, and Jiang Cheng, after shuddering, had to remind himself that Lan Yuan’s definition of trouble was thankfully less terrifying than his brother’s.
“A-Ling, which book should Shushu read tonight?”
Jiang Cheng narrowed his eyes at his older nephew, trying to see those little gears turning in his head. What game was he playing giving Jin Ling the power?
“Panda Problem!” Jin Ling declared, making Lan Yuan’s smirk widen.
Ah. Of course. His other weakness: doing distinctive character voices and sound effects. Both his elder siblings were master storytellers. Jiang Yanli, a children’s librarian by trade, could make a grocery list sound like the best bedtime story ever written. And Wei Ying was legendary among the kids’ friends for his range of voices and noises; he’d always told the best stories at summer camps and parties.
Somehow, Jiang Cheng had missed the family memo. His options for voices were normal gruff voice or slightly higher pitched gruff voice, and Lan Yuan knew this. Wei Ying was raising a tiny sadist. Jiang Cheng was not proud (okay, maybe a little bit, but he’d find it funnier if he wasn’t the victim).
“No.”
“Pleeeeeeeease,” two little voices chorused in unison.
“Ugh. Fine, you little brats.”
He received twin smiles for his troubles, which was made even cuter by Lan Yuan’s missing front tooth.
Jiang Cheng stifled a groan and pulled the well-loved book from the tiny bookshelf of picture books and bedtime stories. He cracked the book open and turned it so the illustrations faced the boys.
Clearing his throat, he began.
Despite their giggles and smiles at the fourth-wall-breaking story, both boys drifted off almost immediately after the last page.
Jiang Cheng pulled the blanket higher and patted each little lump softly. His lips pulled up as he stood from the bedside chair and returned to the shelf.
A lotus nightlight cast a warm light on their soft, sleeping faces. Jiang Cheng slipped out into the hallway and left the door open just enough to hear them if they woke.
He contemplated returning to the case file he’d been studying, but instead, he pulled out his phone and texted his siblings.
Jiang Cheng: Both boys are fed, bathed, and down for the count.
The Idiot: Aww, our little wrestlers wore themselves out, lol. Thx for tonight! We’re only at the intermission, so I’m glad A-Yuan’s staying over. (Save me.)
A-Jie: Thank you for sending the pictures, A-Cheng! I’m glad the boys had fun and got to spend time with each other and you tonight 🥰
Wei Ying proceeded to spam the chat with pictures of the ornate finishings on the seats and balconies of the Gusu Theatre (because of course they had balcony seating), which devolved into pictures of Lan Zhan who was clearly only humoring his husband’s intermission antics.
Jiang Yanli sent a candid of her own beleaguered husband who appeared to be trying to enjoy his gold-leaf-decorated custard tart at whatever fancy restaurant they were celebrating their anniversary at this time.
Jiang Cheng, in turn, sent pictures of the boys that he had snapped throughout the evening.
Though it wasn’t a competition, he clearly won by the number of hearts and exclamation marks he got in return.
When he went to bed an hour and one glass of wine later, it was with a smile on his face.
Fridays were the best.