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The first time Feng Xin notices it, they’re in class—ECON2210, to be precise—and the professor has just finished her tangent regarding fiscal policy and public-choice analysis. He isn’t paying much attention; he’s bored out of his mind, and nothing is really sinking in. It’s only when he’s let out his tenth yawn of the minute, thinking about how he’s going to annoy Mu Qing into lending him some notes, when he catches sight of the device besides Xie Lian’s laptop and promptly raises both his eyebrows in response.
“Is that your phone?” Feng Xin asks.
Looking up from his laptop screen, Xie Lian gives the phone a glance. “Oh, yes, it is,” he says, his tone way too casual for someone who just bought a new Blackwater phone, that Feng Xin kind of can’t believe either his eyes or ears at the moment.
Don’t get him wrong; it’s not that Feng Xin thinks Xie Lian buying nice things for himself is weird. But what is weird, is the fact this is the latest model of the Blackwater Feng Xin’s talking about. As in, the extremely expensive thirteenth edition that came out last week.
For as long as Feng Xin has known Xie Lian, Xie Lian’s never been the type to splurge on luxury items for the sake of it, so of course Feng Xin would find it strange that Xie Lian would drop an outrageous sum on a phone when he had a perfectly good one that didn’t need to be replaced. Throw in the fact that Xie Lian should’ve just gotten himself a new laptop, because his current one is barely functional as it stands, and well—
Something isn’t adding up here.
“I thought you were broke,” Feng Xin says half-jokingly.
“I am,” Xie Lian laughs.
“But you bought a new—”
“Well, I didn’t buy it,” Xie Lian corrects, and he has a meek expression on his face as he says this. “A friend gave it to me.”
A friend gave him a new Blackwater XR. A friend. Right. Like that’s totally not suspicious at all. Before Feng Xin can say anything else on the matter, Xie Lian is speaking up again, and this is the story he tells Feng Xin—
“—so, yeah, because I accidentally broke my phone, San Lang just decided to give me an old one he said he didn’t use, insisting it was no big deal,” Xie Lian explains sheepishly, and Feng Xin responds to this by deflating on the inside.
Xie Lian thinks that the Blackwater XR is an old model. He has no idea how much it’s really worth, out of touch with the latest trends. Christ. And the fact it was apparently gifted to him by his so-called “friend” San Lang, someone who clearly has enough money to just have an XR model lying around somewhere, to even go so far as to claim “it was no big deal” …Feng Xin is currently at a loss on what to make of this.
“Oops, I think I locked myself out again,” Xie Lian despairs after having inputted the wrong passcode thrice in a row, which Feng Xin can’t say he didn’t see coming, because Xie Lian is always struggling with new technology. Then, he adds: “Feng Xin, look, I didn’t know it had a face scanner!”
Feng Xin winces. He isn’t going to lie; this is painful to watch.
At the podium, the professor has turned on the projector and a twenty-minute-long YouTube video is being displayed on the whiteboard. Feng Xin supposes he’ll have to drop the matter for now, pick it up again later.
“You know, I think this miiight take me a while to get used to,” Xie Lian muses with a breathy laugh, scrolling through his phone with his index finger.
Feng Xin resists the urge to facepalm. No fucking kidding.
The second time Feng Xin experiences another surprising revelation, he’s in some bougie coffee shop, splitting cherry cheese scones and blueberry mascarpone cakes with Mu Qing and Shi Qingxuan. It’s not really his type of setting—for one, as delicious as these desserts are, they’re still ridiculously overpriced—but because Shi Qingxuan had to go ahead and tag along with them, of course they were always going to be tricked into spending money.
“Hey, guys, sorry I’m late,” says Xie Lian breathlessly, half an hour off schedule, dropping into the seat opposite Feng Xin. “Kind of lost track of the time while I was writing my essay.”
“No worries,” Shi Qingxuan says brightly, bracelets jangling with a wave of her manicured hand. “We were just getting started.”
Just getting started? Feng Xin stares. Is she planning to order more food fit to feed an entire village?
“That’s…a lot of dessert,” Xie Lian observes as he shrugs out of his coat.
Shi Qingxuan hums around her spoon. “Well, you know what they say: the more, the better!”
Feng Xin isn’t sure where she heard that from but yeah, no. His blood sugar levels—and wallet—would like to disagree. He looks towards Mu Qing, finds that he, too, is sporting a similar expression to the one Feng Xin is wearing now. Moments where they’re on the same page are rare, but when they do happen, it gets Feng Xin appreciating Mu Qing’s presence after all.
“I think I’m just going to grab myself a coffee,” Xie Lian says.
Shi Qingxuan pushes her plate towards him. “You could have my apple tart, if you want.”
Xie Lian is making his order at the counter when Shi Qingxuan lets loose a squeak of surprise so startling it causes faces from the nearby vicinity to turn towards her. Mu Qing’s response is to roll his eyes, while Feng Xin just carries on eating his portion of cake; anyone who’s anyone has to be familiar with her particular brand of overreactions at this point.
“No way,” she breathes out, her gaze focused on Xie Lian’s coat.
“What? Is he hiding drugs in there or something?” Mu Qing scoffs.
Shi Qingxuan shakes her head mutely, as if too stunned to speak. And then, this is what she announces next: “Calamity.”
Feng Xin blinks. Are they rattling off names of luxury brands now? “Calamity,” he echoes.
Shi Qingxuan nods, solemn. “Yeah, Calamity. Or, to be more specific, the beige wool blend coat with contrast coloured buttons from last year’s autumn collection. I’ve wanted one myself, but it’s super out of my budget, and last I checked they were, what, a bazillion bucks apiece!” She lets out a laugh.
Mu Qing arches a sceptical eyebrow. “By a bazillion bucks, you mean—”
Shi Qingxuan lists down the actual price in yuan and Feng Xin almost spits out his cake. He runs the numbers in his head. If that’s the case, that would make it even more expensive than the phone. No way Xie Lian is wearing the real deal. Shi Qingxuan must be mistaken. The phone Feng Xin could believe. But the coat…
“It’s probably fake,” Feng Xin says, though there’s a part of him that doesn’t doubt its authenticity.
Mu Qing nods in agreement. His expression is scrunched up, like he’s still reeling from the price reveal. “What he said. I don’t get why Xie Lian would buy some overpriced piece of cloth that’s like three months’ worth of rent when he thrifts most of his clothes. Plus, it just makes zero sense.”
“I’m back,” Xie Lian announces once he’s returned to the table, setting down a steaming paper cup on the table.
“That’s a nice coat you got over there,” Shi Qingxuan says in a casual show of normalcy, clearly undeterred by either of their claims. She taps her manicured fingers on the table. “Where’d you get it from?”
Xie Lian smiles. “Oh thanks! Yeah, it’s really nice, isn’t it? But it was actually a gift from a friend—or I guess you could call it a hand-me-down. He was clearing out his closet and told me he’d just get rid of the clothes he no longer wanted if I didn’t accept them. But it would’ve been such a waste, so of course I agreed to take them in.”
A scandalized expression strikes Shi Qingxuan then. “Are you kidding me? Why would he throw away a perfectly good Calamity coat?” she says, a touch of indignation in her tone.
“So that’s the name of the coat’s brand,” Xie Lian says. “This might sound weird, but I’m not that familiar with it. Is it popular?”
Popular. Xie Lian is asking if it’s popular. More like infamously unaffordable! And to think he’s the one wearing designer clothes. If Feng Xin didn’t know any better, he’d say Xie Lian was being clueless on purpose. Unconvincingly obtuse.
“Just who is this friend of yours? And I can’t believe you’ve never heard of Calamity!” Shi Qingxuan screeches in a defeated voice.
Xie Lian takes a sip of his drink. Feng Xin has a sneaking suspicion that it’s the same person who supposedly gave Xie Lian the Blackwater XR, so he’s not surprised when Xie Lian says, “Oh, his name is San Lang—I mean, Hua Cheng. We actually met during the summer, a couple months before the semester began.”
“Is he in any of our classes?”
“No, he goes to another university. Remember the presentation I made at the Crimson Flower on global warming? I saw him there.”
The more Xie Lian talks, the more suspicious the whole thing is starting to become. “Right. So he’s another student that you happened to meet at an upscale hotel. Definitely not some fifty-year-old businessman,” Mu Qing says.
Unsurprisingly, the implication flies over Xie Lian’s head. “Yeah, there was another case competition that took place earlier in the afternoon that day, so I got to meet lots of other people from different schools,” he says.
Mu Qing, to his credit, refrains from further comment, and then there’s Shi Qingxuan on the flip side, who seems to buy the whole story. She then proceeds to talk about wanting to meet him, but Feng Xin suspects it’s so that she can rob him of all that designer apparel she probably thinks would be better off with her.
Xie Lian laughs and assures Shi Qingxuan he’ll introduce her one of these days. Feng Xin and Mu Qing exchange glances, somehow uneasy about the likelihood of that.
A few days later, Feng Xin and Mu Qing show up at Xie Lian’s doorstep, and they’re instantly subjected to the sight of clothes strewn all over the couch and papers scattered on the coffee table. It’s a typical Thursday night, so nothing new.
“I can’t find my wallet,” Xie Lian laments as he walks back and forth inside his apartment.
“Xie Lian, it’s literally inside the fruit bowl,” Feng Xin points out.
Xie Lian pauses to glance at the counter, then slaps a hand over his face. “Wow, I’m an idiot,” he groans. “It was right in front of me, and I didn’t even see it.”
“You’re distracted, that’s why you’re not thinking straight,” Mu Qing says dryly.
“It’s not like I ever do,” Xie Lian murmurs.
“What?”
Xie Lian coughs pointedly. “Um. Nothing. Anyway—” Xie Lian’s leg bumps into the corner of the coffee table by accident and he yelps.
Ouch. That has to hurt. “You okay there?” Feng Xin asks. Xie Lian flops down on the couch and makes a wounded noise of assent. “Still good for dinner tonight?”
At this, Xie Lian bolts upwards. “Oh crap, I totally forgot,” he says suddenly. He shoots them both an apologetic look. “Sorry, I’ll have to take a rain check on this one; I already made plans.”
“With Hua Cheng,” Feng Xin guesses.
Mu Qing wrinkles his nose. As for Xie Lian, his eyes fill up with brightness at the mention of his…friend’s name. He doesn’t instantly confirm or deny it at first, but judging from his reaction alone, that has to be the case. And then he does indeed say that he’s going somewhere with that so-called friend of his, and it’s also verified later on when Feng Xin and Mu Qing overhear Pei Ming talking about how he saw Xie Lian by chance during a date with his third girlfriend of the month.
(Apparently his second one did not take too well to the video of him drunkenly calling another woman’s breasts “a dinner and a show.”)
Unfortunately, they don’t gain much information out of it, other than the fact that Xie Lian’s mystery man is indeed as rich as Xie Lian unwittingly revealed he was—of course he has a custom Mercedes-Benz—because Pei Ming ditches the conversation halfway through to join Shi Wudu and Ling Wen, but it’s fine. Whatever. Fine.
One way or another, they’re getting to the bottom of this.
The next time Feng Xin and Mu Qing see Xie Lian, a coral pearl earring dangles from one of his ears—obviously another gift—and he’s adjusting his shirt in the mirror.
“Do you think this looks alright?” Xie Lian says in a tentative tone, gesturing at the outfit he’s put together, nothing too different from the clothes he usually goes for.
Feng Xin’s gaze flicks over to Mu Qing once before returning to Xie Lian. “Yeah, it’s…nice,” he says.
Mu Qing tries to act nonchalant but makes the mistake of keeping his eyes narrowed during the entirety of the exchange. Fortunately, Xie Lian doesn’t seem to pick up on any of it. He just continues standing there, inspecting himself. Rambling on, and on, and on.
“Xie Lian,” Mu Qing interrupts, and Xie Lian pauses. “Who are you really hanging out with?”
Xie Lian raises an eyebrow, gives him a confused look. “I told you, I’m going to the movies with—”
“Yeah, yeah, we know. Your friend—” Mu Qing creates air quotations with his fingers. “—Hua Cheng. Is he actually your friend, though?”
Feng Xin expects Xie Lian’s reaction to go one of two ways. A) He gets upset over the accusation. Or: B) He becomes weirdly reserved about his answers. Neither of the two is ideal, but it’s what they get for Mu Qing being so tactless with how he presented his question.
Feng Xin’s predictions, however, turn out to be wrong, because this is how Xie Lian responds instead: he blushes. Like, he actually blushes.
“He is,” Xie Lian says, cheeks pink, “but also…not? It’s—it’s kind of a long story.”
Okay, Feng Xin is confused. How can you be friends with someone but also not at the same time? Xie Lian is going to make him jump through mental hula hoops at this rate. But before he can press for more details, Xie Lian is heading out because he wants to get an early arrival at the place where he’s hanging out with his friend-but-also-not, which leaves Feng Xin and Mu Qing to haphazardly piece together a theory.
Xie Lian dressed up for Hua Cheng. Hua Cheng buys him gifts—expensive ones you wouldn’t just give somebody if you didn’t have an agenda. For example, the earring. Unless Feng Xin is mistaken, it has to be a statement of—of possession. Add in Xie Lian’s hesitation about labelling what his relationship with Hua Cheng is…Feng Xin can already see the red flags. The neon signs.
“The fuck,” Mu Qing says, holding up a business card he found on top of Xie Lian’s political science textbook. And then, the flyer underneath.
The Crimson Flower hotel, the flyer reads. That’s—that’s where Xie Lian said he first met Hua Cheng. Because of the case competition. Feng Xin frowns. Could it be that Hua Cheng isn’t actually a student—
Feng Xin and Mu Qing exchange ashen looks, and quickly return the card and the flyer to the place where Mu Qing found them.
The weekend comes and goes, and they’re hanging out with Xie Lian when it all comes together. They’re outside, on one of the tables facing the business faculty’s main building, practically injecting espresso into their bloodstream as they finish up what needs to be done for their respective classes. Xie Lian looks plenty focused on his assignments, using a brand-new tablet that was no doubt given to him by Hua Cheng.
Feng Xin doesn’t exactly know how he’s going to bring up the subject. He and Mu Qing had planned to a couple days ago, but somewhere down the road they realized it’s just not something they can spring up without making things more awkward than they have to be. Honestly, he’d have staged a confrontation by now, but the mere thought of it, the sheer idea, it is so painfully mortifying the sentences shrivel in his lungs way before they ever reach his vocal cords.
Because, like. What are either of them supposed to say to that? That they’re here to remind Xie Lian about the perils of dealing with shady men that he ought to stay far, far away from? That they’re here to warn him that Hua Cheng is most definitely bad news, that if this arrangement is what they think it is, he could as easily drop Xie Lian like a bad habit as he does enticing him with favours?
Feng Xin and Mu Qing stare at Xie Lian in uncomfortable silence. Xie Lian, who is humming a lively tune under his breath. Xie Lian, who remains oblivious to the situation he’s put himself through.
Finally, Mu Qing musters the ability to speak.
“Xie Lian,” he says, and Feng Xin braces himself for the incredible awkwardness that will inevitably descend upon their group, “I think we should talk about—"
Xie Lian puts down the tablet and beams. It’s such a jarring response, it throws Feng Xin in for a loop, until he realizes that Xie Lian’s smile is not directed towards either of them but rather something—or someone—else over their shoulders.
“San Lang!” he calls out, waving a hand.
For one wild moment, Feng Xin is struck with the strangest image of crisp suits and velvet lounges, but then it immediately disintegrates at the sight that soon greets them. Which is of an arrogant-looking man settling into the space besides Xie Lian, tipping up Xie Lian’s chin to kiss him deeply.
Feng Xin thinks he hears someone choke—probably himself. He glances at Mu Qing, finds that his face is red, so Mu Qing most likely underwent a choking fit, too.
“Hey,” San Lang—or Hua Cheng, rather—says to Xie Lian, completely ignoring Feng Xin and Mu Qing in favour of staring into Xie Lian’s eyes like they’re in some ridiculous romance movie that they’re the main characters of.
“Hi,” Xie Lian breathes out with a dopey smile on his face—and okay, not him too! He blinks once, then twice, and finally breaks out of his stupor. “San Lang, what are you doing here, don’t you have class?”
“It got cancelled; prof was out sick, so now I have a free afternoon, which I want to spend with you,” Hua Cheng says, wrapping his arms around Xie Lian without an ounce of shame.
The scene honestly makes Feng Xin want to barf. Hua Cheng is practically giving Xie Lian bedroom eyes in public. Right in front of them. What the fuck? But after the disgust comes the sobering realization that perhaps Hua Cheng isn’t who they, um, thought he was. Because university student? Check. Same age as them? Check.
Asshole rich kid with too much money to burn? Those flashy accessories alone confirm it. Stupid ear piercings, edgy eyepatch, dumb designer combat boots. And then there’s the matter of that gaudy chain belt.
Well. At least the reality turned out to be more acceptable than the alternative, Feng Xin tries to console himself.
“This is your friend Hua Cheng?” he exclaims nevertheless, appropriately appalled.
It appears this sentence is what causes Hua Cheng to pout at Xie Lian. To whine out loud: “Gege, I’m just a friend to you?”
“Well, actually, San Lang is my boyfriend now. That’s what I’ve been meaning to tell you, guys,” Xie Lian explains, having the decency to at least seem mildly embarrassed about their excessive PDA, unlike Hua Cheng, who looks altogether too smug about it.
“I don’t trust him,” Mu Qing says, narrowing his eyes at Hua Cheng.
“Nice to meet you, too,” says Hua Cheng, his tone equally as poisonous.
“Mu Qing. San Lang,” Xie Lian chides. Then he glances over at Feng Xin, entreating.
“Don’t look at me,” Feng Xin says, because he’s inclined to give Hua Cheng a piece of his mind as well.
“So let me get this straight,” Shi Qingxuan gasps out in between fits of heaving laughter. “You guys thought Xie Lian was some sort of male escort?”
“Fucking shut up already,” Feng Xin says through gritted teeth, already mortified enough as it is, even though what she just said is a blatant misinterpretation on her part. Nope. He doesn’t recall ever making any such assumptions.
“I mean, the business card, the flyer—who knew Xie Lian just kept them there by coincidence, and that it turns out Hua Cheng’s family owns the Crimson Flower hotel chain and Hua Cheng is one day going to inherit it,” Shi Qingxuan continues with tears in her eyes, despite the glares being sent her way.
“Are you finished?” Mu Qing snaps.
She isn’t, it transpires, because she goes on to say, “Well, even if Xie Lian was a male escort, you’ve got to at least respect the hustle,” and okay, that’s it, Feng Xin is so done.
“We’re leaving,” Feng Xin says. Just as he and Mu Qing make a move to rise from their respective seats, Shi Qingxuan is calling out, “Hey, Hua Cheng! Did you know that Feng Xin and Mu Qing thought you were Xie Lian’s sugar—”
Feng Xin clamps a hand over her mouth, outraged. “What the fuck?” he hisses. Is Shi Qingxuan for real? Does she want the two of them dead? Because if she does, surely she’s aware there are more humane methods of carrying out the task at hand.
Suddenly, Feng Xin feels eyes on the back of his neck and a resulting chill that breaks out over his skin. He hates her so much.
“That I was what?” Hua Cheng’s voice materializes from across the room.
“Fuck off, it was nothing!” Mu Qing yells back, before he, too, turns on Shi Qingxuan with a vengeance.
Then, Feng Xin feels something soft and weighty brush against his arm. He thinks nothing of it at first—of course he’d be preoccupied with trying to save his own life, this is hardwired biology at work—but once he realizes what it is, or what they are, rather, he screams.
Xie Lian pops into the living room, alarmed. “Guys, what happened?” he exclaims upon finding Feng Xin passed out on the ground.
Shi Qingxuan is giggling, madwoman that she is. “I think I killed him,” she says, prodding at his lifeless body with a foot.
Mu Qing can’t help but roll his eyes. “Yeah, you most definitely did,” he intones with a dry expression.
Hua Cheng, thoughtful as ever, snickers. Only Xie Lian seems to think Feng Xin’s current status is a serious cause for concern, while the only thing running through Mu Qing’s head is the fact that Shi Qingxuan is never going to let Feng Xin live this one down.