Work Text:
The moment the door opened, with his utter horror Shang Qinghua saw in slow motion, like in a rom-com gone wrong, the merry smile slowly morphing into the equivalent version of the five stages of grief when it came down to a colossal misunderstanding, right on his parents' faces.
First there was confusion. Shang Qinghua was supposed to be there, so far so good. The man standing next to him though, tall and broody, was not. His parents, in their old age, had some difficulties craning their necks up to scrutinise the gorgeous face of the stranger, his astounding features enhanced by the black silk of the scarf he had tied around his neck and his hair slicked back just the right way that made Shang Qinghua's blood boil with desire to pass his fingers through them and muss them up. Uhm, he was digressing there.
Then, when his parents' eyes returned at the same level as his own, something akin to realization lightened up in them. Only not, because Shang Qinghua was sure that whatever was going through their mind was completely wrong.
The resignation that came after, it was something that Shang Qinghua had been familiar with since his teenage years. That gut-punching knowledge that didn't need words to express how, in a parent's eyes, their child was a total failure but they were supposed to love them anyway because, no matter the shortcomings, they were the ones who had brought that baby into existence. That feeling, yeah.
The unsaid "Ah, we knew it all along!" painted in the strained smiles on his parents' faces tasted more of acceptance than anything else that had ever come from them, the bittersweet taste of it unpleasant to swallow. It sat heavily on Shang Qinghua's stomach, right on the knot that had suddenly formed in the few seconds since that door had opened.
"You're a bit earlier than we were expecting you," a pause to try and gather a regular level of politeness.
"Uh, please enter both of you. Don't stay out in the cold," his father said, very diplomatically of him. Something that he had never been during all the years that Shang Qinghua had lived under his same roof.
It spoke lengths about the efforts the other man too was making to mend their wonky relationship, while his mother was silently judging behind her jovial expression. Shang Qinghua was sure of it.
It was all good inspiration material for his writing, if Shang Qinghua had to be honest, but he better compartmentalise it for the moment and take it out at another time, when it didn't risk ruining his life and the relationship with his parents more than it was already damaged.
His parents' united front had opened up then, forming a funnel on each side of the entrance. The warmth seeping out from the apartment was extremely inviting to Shang Qinghua's frozen nose tip, and he pursued it like a hound hunting for truffles. Not far behind him, Mobei-jun followed.
Removing his worn out jacket quickly, Shang Qinghua was dismayed to find out that the hook of the coat hanger at the entrance that used to be reserved for him, was now occupied by other things.
Let it go Shang Qinghua, conceal, don't feel, he repeated in his mind. Anyway he was not supposed to stay long there at the moment.
"Father, mother, this is… uh, Mobei-jun. We work together."
It was hard to introduce someone when you didn't know exactly their name.
At first sight his editor seemed to coat himself in a mysterious aura, all dark clothes and little words. It took even Shang Qinghua a while to realise that Mobei-jun actually was just a particularly finicky person who had his habits and lots of dislikes. Both those things comprehended not sharing his family name, but the big boss of the publishing agency they worked for, more busy chasing after Shang Qinghua's friend than anything else, had never made a fuss about this apparent lack of courtesy so Shang Qinghua, a mere porn writer, didn't see why he too should be bothered about it. Not when Mobei-jun was so interesting to look at, in a very scientific, I-need-inspiration-for-the-love-interest-of-my-new-novel way.
That wasn't the only thing that Mobei-jun inspired in Shang Qinghua though, especially during the cold and lonely nights in his bed. Anyway.
His parents seemed to be appreciative of Mobei-jun. For sure they too had been swayed by the man's model-like features and lofty bearing. Plus, they sure could recognise old money when they saw it. Mobei-jun was in their good book then, lucky him, and probably had realized it as he so gallantly answered the greetings of rite.
Yet there was an uncomfortable edge to his normally flat expression.
Oh, right!
"Right! Sorry father and mother. Can Mobei-jun use the restroom? We stopped here mainly for that and to warn you before being on our way again."
As if Mobei-jun was the darling of her heart, Shang Qinghua's mother ushered him towards the toilet, leaving behind an awkward silence that stretched between Shang Qinghua and his father.
"So…"
"So," Shang Qinghua answered back, but he didn't know what words to use as a follow up. So much for being a published writer. But his field was smut novels, not small talk guides!
"Uhm, I didn't mean to drop here so soon. I hope I'm not interrupting anything."
"Your mother had finished the preparations for tonight after lunch. We're just not used to you being on time."
Swallowing a witty comeback, Shang Qinghua tried to keep his smile and act unaffected by the usual reproach coming from his father, no matter what subject.
As he had told Mobei-jun during the car ride to his parents' place, all the three of them were trying to rekindle their family's relationship. No matter how bumpy the road was.
Sitting on the passenger seat, Mobei-jun had hummed whenever it was necessary to show Shang Qinghua that he was listening to him pour his heart out about his family drama.
Mobei-jun was a man of few words, but when it came down to talking about family he had not much to add, being orphaned too soon of his mother, and having seen his father slowly fade during his teenage years. His most lively family link was with his estranged uncle, and that was saying a lot when the man for sure didn't consider Mobei-jun part of his family.
All of this Shang Qinghua already knew from previous sad confessions, heart to heart conversations with his editor, so he wasn't actually expecting any answers from him at the moment.
That liberating rant was for Shang Qinghua and Shang Qinghua alone, as he was getting psychologically ready to face his parents after many years of avoiding each other. They weren't getting any younger, and Shang Qinghua was their only son who should show all the filial piety required by society in those circumstances.
The situation weighed immensely on his shoulders, all the hurt and rejection clamouring in his chest to not be ignored in favour of social expectations. Shang Qinghua was sure that he would get a headache by the end of the evening, but for the moment he enjoyed letting his mouth run free and stealing some glances at the gorgeous man in designer clothes, completely out of place sitting in the passenger seat of his second hand car.
It was a sight that Shang Qinghua could have gotten addicted to, if only Mobei-jun had such low standards that allowed the poor author to have a chance with him.
He would have been content with being just a friend for his editor though. Tragically aware of Mobei-jun's social awkwardness, Shang Qinghua hoped he was something more than a strictly professional relationship for him.
Mobei-jun wouldn't have allowed Shang Qinghua to drive him home otherwise, no?
Ok ok, taking public transportation the night of the 31st of December was not the brightest idea already for a regular person who could stand being surrounded - too much surrounded!- by strangers.
For Mobei-jun that must have sounded like pure, unadulterated torture. The man wasn't keen on strangers, or proximity. Hitching a ride with his charge must have sounded like the lesser evil. Even if he had to pay by listening to all of Shang Qinghua's family complaints and sob stories.
Anyway, Shang Qinghua had to warn his parents that first he needed to drop Mobei-jun off at his place, and then come back.
To make things easier for everyone, the two old dinosaurs didn't even have a phone on which Shang Qinghua could text them, or even call them, so his plan had been to arrive way earlier, warn them, deliver Mobei-jun's to his lavish house on the other side of the city and then come back fashionably late, when the rest of the family had already gathered, the closest possible to midnight to suffer less of the usual judging stares.
Then Mobei-jun had asked him to also stop for a toilet trip, and Shang Qinghua was very weak for that man. He had never said no to him, always treating Mobei-jun like a king, now that he thought of it.
And that's where they found themselves at the moment, Mobei-jun guided towards the restroom like royalty by Shang Qinghua's mother, a queen of her own; and him dealing with the awkward silence that had befallen again on the conversation with his father.
"My point is," Shang Qinghua bravely tried to soldier on, dread making home in the pit of his stomach as he watched his mother approach them with the sweetest smile he had ever seen printed on her face. "Uh… I stopped by to warn that I would be late bef-"
"How can you be late if you're already here?! Even in advance, for once in your life!" taking place on Shang Qinghua's other side, his mother interrupted him with the incredulous voice of someone hearing the biggest pile of nonsense ever.
Shang Qinghua cowered for a moment, his body remembering all his teenagehood insecurities before his mind could stop it. But he no longer was that chunky boy full of pimples who couldn't socialize with his peers besides a few selected outcasts like him. He was a fully grown and independent chunky adult now, who fared better in life, better than he would ever thought he was capable of.
He was still friends with that same outcast of his childhood -hello Peerless Cucumber Bro, love you-, but now he had more… friends? Social relationships, let's say. And anyway, it wasn't like that anymore. Now he had…
Mobei-jun turned the corner of the corridor right in time to see Shang Qinghua stumble upon his words, trying to explain himself and doing a poor job at it, worse than whenever he tried to pitch the idea for a new novel to their boss Luo Binghe in person.
Shang Qinghua briefly wondered what kind of triptych picture his parents and he made in Mobei-jun's eyes. Such a beautiful and dignified man was not made to be in that kind of neighbourhood, nor in such a small apartment lacking all the comforts that he was born for.
Yet his cool aura of prince in shining armour was undeniable, and between a heart beat and the next, Shang Qinghua dreamed with open eyes that he was the poor, unfortunate princess that Mobei-jun had come to save from the motherly fire-breathing dragon and the old man guard in the dilapidated tower. Where was his true love kiss now, eh?!
Well, if he couldn't have that - not that he wasn't trying to, but!-, at least Shang Qinghua could throw himself at Mobei-jun, gripping his muscular arm like a lifesaver. Suddenly, Shang Qinghua felt more springy than ever.
"Ah Mobei-jun, you're back! Perfect, perfect!" Shang Qinghua didn't look the part of a strong person, but he was steering easily the mountain of muscles that was Mobei-jun, by that same arm, towards the exit door.
Docile as nobody would pin him to be, Mobei-jun followed easily the pull of Shang Qinghua and the writer, in his haste to escape his parents' critics and sudden positive attention that he didn't know how to deal with, thought he felt the other man squeeze tightly the hand trapped between his arm and his ribcage.
Was that real or just Shang Qinghua imagining things that weren't actually there because he was reading too deep, in his thirst for Mobei-jun's love? Probably he was just over projecting, fantasising about impossible things as usual.
To Shang Qinghua's displeasure though, his mother realised in time what he really was doing, and stomped on his attempted escape with the mellifluous smile of a matron who had thwarted in that same way, many teenage dreams of freedom.
"No need to be in such a hurry dear," she clang to Mobei-jun's other arm, and Shang Qinghua would have laughed at the idea of his tall editor surrounded on both side, towering over the short people pulling him in different directions; he would have laughed if not for the fact that inside he wanted to scream.
"We weren't expecting for you to come with a guest of your own, but we can always make space at the table."
His mother giggled - giggled!-, the very satisfied grin of somebody finally getting the upper hand in a decades long lasting family feud plastered all over her face.
"After all, he's your boyfriend. He's family now."
This time, Shang Qinghua actually screamed.
Shang Qinghua's mother had reached such a glow that night that the Christmas trees decorating the Western streets and squares could not compare. All her gloating was mostly reserved for her sister, sitting next to her at the family table, but the other members of the gathering were receiving a glimpse of her better than you attitude.
"We always knew that Hua'er was a bit different, but look at him now! Bringing such a charming and accomplished young man to meet the family! He has class, you can see it easily. What was again that your son-in-law did? Accounting?"
On the other side of the table, between an empty bottle and half finished plate of dumplings, Shang Qinghua had his eyes fixed on said train wreck, wanting to rip out his hair with his own two hands at his mother's sudden forgetfulness on what had been a matter of contentment for years between the two siblings. And also for being thrown out to the family wolves like that. Rude, mother. Rude!
It wasn't like Shang Qinghua wasn't aware that he had always been a peculiar child, but he still needed time to reflect on his own about the subject. A thing that Shang Qinghua would have postponed for another time, always, but at the moment he was forced to face without any further stalling, as it was being used like a pawn in the sibling rivalry game.
In the chair next to him, Mobei-jun was slowly sipping the second least cheap wine that the small shop at the corner could offer, straight from a one use plastic cup. A completely different quality from what he must have been used to.
Such low level alcohol hit the bloodstream very quickly too, if Mobei-jun's reddened cheeks could testify anything. Or his slightly more loosened tongue. The man had always been a taciturn one, awkward in the presence of new people and especially the ones who didn't share his interests in literature and market strategies, but he was nodding and humming in answer at the best of his tipsy capacity to the many questions all the ogling second degree aunts were firing at him.
How to blame them though, happy to finally have such a strapping specimen to compensate for the average level of their male family members? If Mobei-jun hadn't already been rich and in love with his job, he definitely could have tried - and succeeded - for an acting career. He had the face. And the range, darling! He could easily have been the intense male lead in a romantic drama in costume.
Shang Qinghua would have gladly taken the role of the mistreated but resilient heroine, as he was used to that kind of treatment; but he also would have liked not to be a heroine and just be himself instead, mousy and cowardly and all the negative sides that made Shang Qinghua himself.
There was a very heroic thing that he could do right then and there though.
"Mobei-jun wants to smoke, I'm accompanying him out!" he announced to the whole room, leaving the grannies flabbergasted at the guts of this little nephew to take away their entertainment for the evening.
Saving Mobei-jun from too much human interaction had been Shang Qinghua's plan of the night, a last good action before the year was over, and he would stand his ground on that, be it against the crowd of public transport or his own family.
Taking his editor by the shapely bicep once again - note to self: never wash that hand ever again-, Shang Qinghua pulled the man off his chair in one inelegant movement, and towards the exit door, collecting their coats.
The air on the landing outside the apartment was frozen to the point that white dragons rose up from their mouths in place of breaths. Shang Qinghua burrowed inside his jacket, regretting having left his old scarf inside. It was threadbare in places, but it was better than nothing. And he had nothing at the moment.
Coat hastily put on and barely hanging from his shoulders, Mobei-jun acted like he didn't suffer from the cold instead. Must still have been affected by the cheap alcohol he had drunk, the inebriation doing more for him than the black silk scarf that he hadn't let go of all night long, Shang Qinghua reflected. He wasn't sure if Mobei-jun feared that somebody would bite his neck, but the chilling air gave Shang Qinghua another reason to want that scarf off Mobei-jun's neck and around his own.
"I'm sorry," Shang Qinghua began, trying to articulate in fewer words the whole list he thought he had to ask forgiveness for to his editor - as professional deformation-, his hands pointing wildly to the closed door behind his shoulder, the only shield standing between his family and them.
"For this whole mess, I mean."
The vacant stare in Mobei-jun's eyes didn't help to build up a conversation.
"It wasn't supposed to go like this," whining, Shang Qinghua crashed on the handrail of the landing, deflating on it like a balloon.
Unaffected by Shang Qinghua's words and perceived slights, Mobei-jun took an almost empty packet of cigarettes, silver shining lighter and portable ashtray box out of the side pocket of his coat. The paper crinkled in the silence as Mobei-jun opened the lid very slowly.
"Oh, you really are smoking…" Shang Qinghua mused - he had originally said that as an excuse to escape his family!-, before focusing on those long and graceful fingers, the way they picked a stick from the package and raised it to the most kissable thin lips that he had ever seen, his eyes following the movement.
"Oh! Oh no! You're almost out of cigarettes!" deflating even more, both physically and mentally, Shang Qinghua whined.
"Tomorrow I'll buy you ten packets. That's how sorry I am for pulling you in all of this!"
Not paying attention to the blabbering of his underling, Mobei-jun lit up the cigarette. Taking a long inhale from it, his eyes closed in the same way that usually forebode a headache, he then let out a bigger, whiter dragon of smoke. It smelled of tobacco of excellent quality, and Shang Qinghua knew that with that dragon taking flight, so did his money.
Sighing, Shang Qinghua propped his helbows on the railing.
"Hey Mobei-jun…"
A low grunt was the only answer he received, but Shang Qinghua was used to them, and versatile in understanding their meaning.
The smallest smile pulled the corner of his lips slightly up. It seemed that Mobei-jun wasn't too bothered at the moment.
"I really am sorry. I should have brought you to your house straight away instead of stopping by to warn."
Flicking the first ash in the tin ashtray box, Mobei-jun glanced at Shang Qinghua in that cool way that he had mastered so perfectly, his impassive face facing forward while his pupils spied at the other man from the corner of those elegant eyes, hiding between fans of dark lashes.
"You said it was important."
That deep voice always moved something in Shang Qinghua, a feeling that crawled up his back, shaking his shoulder and then dropping lower. Way lower.
It took some seconds for Shang Qinghua to choose the exact words to say as not to embarrass more than necessary or cause discomfort to his superior.
"I've been trying to rekindle the ties with my parents so badly that I had forgotten why I wanted to leave."
A light chuckle interrupted his words then.
"But my mother acting like she's the more progressive person in the whole of China, asking for names of associations for parents of gay children and all, like the next thing she would do is ride at the head of a pride parade with a rainbow feather boa and fans… Well, let me tell you, that's a completely new turn of events."
Saying so, Shang Qinghua's expression got intense, serious. In the meantime, he mimicked what was supposed to be a fan dance that actually more resembled vogueing. If someone had seen vogueing once, in a documentary.
That stole a furtive chuckle even from Mobei-jun.
"She doesn't seem to be that bad."
Twirling around and leaning against the railing with his elbows, slouching down in that peculiar way that seemed to be a side effect of his job, Shang Qinghua looked up at Mobei-jun.
Something warm similar to satisfaction bubbled up in him at seeing the half smile on the other man's face. It was a feeling that he was intimately aware of, as he loved making Mobei-jun smile.
"Aaah," Shang Qinghua groaned theatrically, "that's because she likes you! And at first glance I might add. That's a feat that nobody ever managed before, not even my father. Kudos, Mobei-jun!"
Taking another inhale from his cigarettes, Mobei-jun blew the following white cloud on Shang Qinghua who coughed more for making a scene than anything else.
"I'm telling the truth!"
"Sure."
"If I had brought home anybody else as my boyfriend, she would have not been so ecstatic, believe me."
Then, realising what he had just said, Shang Qinghua slapped one of his hands on his mouth. He could feel against the points of his fingers how warm his cheeks had become, the skin contact burning him. In that moment Shang Qinghua wished that the floor would crumble under his feet and let him fall down.
What had his unfiltered mouth just said?! He wasn't ready to deal with that kind of stuff yet, damn his own mother and her ancestors! And especially, he wasn't ready to push Mobei-jun in his own mess of feelings and lose him to some silly crush that could never be reciprocal.
Full of shame and dread, Shang Qinghua looked up at his editor between the curtains of his own hair.
Mobei-jun was still there. Chilling with the cigarette between his fingers as if the cold air of the night didn't bother him. He stood there, looking at the silhouette of buildings alight with the light coming out of their windows, as if Shang Qinghua had not just made a fool of himself with his words. So much for choosing them carefully. So much for keeping his unrequited crush in check.
"I…" Shang Qinghua's voice trembled briefly before he removed the hand from his face and took courage within it instead, closing it in a fist on top of his chest.
"Not that I think you would be interested in men, obviously."
The words uttered from Shang Qinghua in an attempt to save his career and what little remained of his dignity, seemed not to touch Mobei-jun.
Like in the slowest slow motion of the whole history, the man brought the cigarette to his lips and puffed deep. His eyes were trained on Shang Qinghua, pinning him in place, but beside that there seemed to be no hint that he was calculating the other's presence. The smoke rose slowly in the air, and only when it dissipated, did Mobei-jun speak.
"What if I am?"
Stunned by the possible implications of those words, Shang Qinghua laughed weakly. A pathetic sound no better than what he was feeling inside.
"Nothing wrong with it!" he protested softly, raising his hands and flailing them wildly.
If he couldn't trust his words, at least he could rely on his body language to convey the authenticity of feelings. That he was not a menace nor intended for any arm. Not when Shang Qinghua was the one fearing of being maimed for his improper behaviour towards his superior.
"I mean, we're in the year twenty twenty-one. Almost twenty-two soon, actually. No judgement about your preferences. Not from me."
Scratching the back of his head, Shang Qinghua laughed nervously.
"It would be hypocritical on my part I guess. When I might… uh, myself…"
Shang Qinghua swallowed with difficulties, feeling like he was grappling on mirrors.
The heavy stare that Mobei-jun was reserving for him, his eyebrows knitted together in a dark glare, took away any possible smart string of words that he could have come up with. Briefly he wondered what it would be like if Mobei-jun gave him a different kind of attention, full of passion and love. What a dream it would be! But Shang Qinghua needed to be realistic here.
"That's not the point anyway. What I meant is, I would never imply that you would be interested in someone like me. That's it!"
At that, Mobei-jun breathed harder. After that, Shang Qinghua could see his chest rise and fall faster under the silk of his shirt, and for a moment he found himself at a loss in the translation department.
Was Mobei-jun angry maybe? Angrier than Shang Qinghua thought he had been earlier? Usually Mobei-jun was an extremely controlled man in his movements, calculating each one of his reactions to minimise any effort and energy, yet in that situation Shang Qinghua didn't know how to read him, if not something on the line of being upset.
"What if I am?"
"Why would you?!" Shang Qinghua screamed without even realising it, a pure reflex of belittling himself well ingrained in his brain. Then the meaning of Mobei-jun's words sunk in.
In the protracted silence between them, they stood motionless, frozen on the spot.
Only the cigarette stuck between Mobei-jun's fingers dared to move, the cinder falling down on the floor from the weight.
As if that broke their stalemate, Shang Qinghua was the first to move.
Feeling as if everything, his certainties and convictions, were escaping from between his fingers like sand through a broken hourglass, gave Shang Qinghua the need to hold onto something just to reassure himself that he still could practice some form of control on the world around him. He just needed to hold something between his fingers.
It was like that Shang Qinghua snatched what remained of the cigarette from Mobei-jun's fingers, and brought it to his mouth for a puff.
Mobei-jun's eyebrows rose comically high at that, while he looked at Shang Qinghua, his hand still frozen mid-air.
The series of coughs that followed should have been expected, exposing Shang Qinghua's complete lack of previous experience in smoking, yet it took both of them as a surprise.
Shang Qinghua rolled around, deflating once again against the railing while he coughed out his lungs, his eyes tearing up from the effort.
An unexpected touch on his shoulder made him startle even more. There was only one explanation for it, and while he would have loved nothing more than for Mobei-jun to show more of his caring side, in the contemporary writer's jargon Shang Qinghua would have described that action as OOC.
What was wrong with Mobei-jun?! First he kind of came out, then he hinted that he might like Shang Qinghua, then he patted his coughing back in the most gentle gesture that Shang Qinghua had ever seen him perform. Was the cheap wine that his mother had served that strong?!
The long fingers that wouldn't be out of place on the hand of a pianista, took effortlessly what remained of the cigarette between them, and Mobei-jun pulled a last puff out of it before it extinguished and he disposed of the butt in his portable metallic ashtray.
Mesmerized by the sight that he caught in the corner of his eyes, Shang Qinghua realized only then that that cigarette had been the carrier of an indirect kiss.
He thought he could not blush any harder than what he had done earlier and yet he was proven wrong once again.
"What do you mean what if you are?!" Shang Qinghua whined against the soft flesh of his arm, still wishing he could disappear.
"Would my feelings be so unwelcome if I liked you, as something more than a colleague?"
There's to say that Shang Qinghua had never considered himself on the same level as Mobei-jun. Not even on a professional level.
Yet Shang Qinghua was a romantic at heart. Sure he wrote mainly about open legs and warm holes, but he was made of romanticism in the marrow of his bones.
There was a chance. A chance of Mobei-jun, super cool and breathtaking and amazing Mobei-jun, liking him, Shang Qinghua the incompetent and useless.
Well, add opportunistic to that list of defects.
Shang Qinghua would not let go of that once in a lifetime opportunity so easily!
"I think you're drunk actually, and the wine is making you say things that you're going to regret once sober," sighing, Shang Qinghua stood up straight.
Even like that, he didn't reach Mobei-jun's shoulders. That didn't stop Shang Qinghua from looking at the other man square in the face.
"But, and I'm saying this against your best interest, if you still feel like your words are true come morning… let's… let's talk as two people wanting to get into a relationship then."
The gentle curve of a smile appeared between the thin, very kissable lips on Mobei-jun's face. Maybe tomorrow Shang Qinghua could…
The wind chose that exact moment to rise up and owl.
"Gosh it's cold!" whined Shang Qinghua, squeezing himself further in his poor coat.
It was almost midnight. Five minutes to it actually. It would be better if the whole family moved outside to open a champagne bottle and party while the fireworks went off in the night sky.
She made everyone notice that, so the whole group rose up from their chairs and moved towards the door. Very loudly, very messily. Each one of them took their coat, filling out the little entrance with too many people.
The only two missing from the roll call for Shang Qinghua and his friend, that beautiful young man Mobei-jun, since they'd gone out earlier to smoke a cigarette, and possibly to have some lovey-dovey intimacy.
Ah, to be so young and in love! She had not missed the hot glances that the two men kept exchanging all night long, or the way that that whimp of Shang Qinghua had finally found a backbone and spoke in place of his boyfriend when the aunties got too persistent. Nor the way that Mobei-jun always kept Shang Qinghua in his field of vision and made sure to please the whole family.
And now the two sweethearts were all alone and the whole family was about to probably catch them in some compromising situation.
All according to her plan.
She had a full blown grin printed on her face when she opened the door and saw them, right there on the landing.
A firework whistled in the dark sky before blooming in gold, signaling the arrival of midnight and with it the new year.
It lightened the silhouettes of the two young men that had become a singular shape in the meantime, Shang Qinghua burrowing between the arms and under the super expensive coat of Mobei-jun, to the point that only the top of his head was visible, while the other man caressed it.
Lovey-dovey, that's what she had said.
Next to her, her sister was dumbfounded.
For sure, her sister's son-in-law was not as attentive nor affectionate as her own.
The gobsmacked expression would already have been enough to consider that night a success, but then again it was not everyday that her son brought his boyfriend home to meet the family.
And he looked so happy too, with that charming man in his life.
For once, Shang Qinghua's mother was proud of her son.
Next on the list, it was wedding planning.