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“Wait! What’s going on?” Tang Fan shouts as Dong’er pulls him by the wrist from the courtyard to his bedroom. She had given him no warning, no explanation, just walked right up to him and pulled him away as if Tang Fan had not been in the middle of removing all the fake wedding decorations they had hung up in their attempt to stop Wang Zhi from asking him to go to Yunhe. “I was in the middle of something!”
Dong’er rolls her eyes. “You weren't.”
Tang Fan huffs as she drags him over the threshold. “I was cleaning up.”
“Sui-dage was cleaning up,” Dong’er replies. She drops her grip on his wrist once he’s been dragged to the center of his room.
How dare she minimize his contributions. “I was supervising,” he clarifies.
Dong’er doesn’t respond. She doesn’t even show a sign that she even hears Tang Fan speak. He groans as he turns on his heel to walk in the direction of where he had been unceremoniously dragged from. He gets to the steps before Dong’er yanks him back with enough force that his shoulder pops.
“You’ve received a gift!” she says with a light, distracted tone while she opens a package of sesame candy.
“Oh, Runqing.” His eyes follow his sister’s voice. She’s by the bed, staring at something in her hands, something very…red. “It’s beautiful.” She lifts it higher as if to admire a rare and precious thing.
It’s a robe. A very beautiful round-collar robe. A very beautiful round-collar red robe.
“Where did that come from?” Tang Fan asks. He looks at Tang Yu but she just shakes her head and purses her lips. Without a real explanation, he steps forward to look closer. His first thought is that he’s being promoted and no one told him, yet when he looks closer he sees it looks nothing like Pan-daren’s governor robes. There’s no note or receipt, just a very expensive-looking wedding robe. “Gaungchaun, I thought you weren't getting married anymore.” He throws his voice in the direction of the courtyard before looking over and seeing that Sui Zhou is already standing in the doorway, still holding the red paper decorations.
“I’m not,” Sui Zhou says. Tang Fan gives him a pause to elaborate. Sui Zhou says nothing else.
He’s no help. “Then why is your wedding robe in my room?”
“That’s not mine.”
“Then who left it here?” As Tang Fan says it, he begins to put together the pieces of information he does have. He throws another look at Sui Zhou and puts on his most mischievous smile. After the stress of contemplating taking on the Yunhe case, a benign mystery like this is exactly what he needs.
Sui Zhou raises his eyebrows as if he knows exactly where Tang Fan’s mind is going. Then he glances quite obviously in Dong’er’s direction. It seems as if she’s barely paying attention to what’s going on in the room. Tang Fan sees her in her own world, eating her candy, and realizes this isn’t a mystery at all. It’s the same sweet Wang Zhi had brought her the day before.
Tang Fan lets out an extended sigh and shifts his gaze to the ceiling. “I can’t believe Wang Zhi bought me a robe for my fake wedding.”
“Well, if it’s yours, you should wear it,” Tang Yu says. She lifts it up so that it’s Tang Fan’s height. It might fit.
“Why would I wear it? He’s just trying to call my bluff. He thinks it’s going to bother me.” Tang Fan contemplates that. If he was willing to fake a wedding for Wang Zhi’s sake, then it makes no sense to be bothered by the idea now that Wang Zhi is gone.
Dong’er has a small smile on her face now; she is paying some attention. She’ll tell Wang Zhi what Tang Fan decides no matter what.
“What a kind gift!” he says, with an exaggerated effect. “I should at least try it on. I want to be ready, you know, since my marriage is so imminent.” He looks between Tang Yu and Sui Zhou, inviting them silently to join him in Wang Zhi’s silly game. His sister purses her lips, but there’s something soft about the way she does it. Tang Fan takes it for the indulgence it is.
Sui Zhou, on the other hand, just releases a breath. “We should have a nice dinner. I’ll go to the market.”
“I want roast duck with plum sauce!!!!!!” Tang Fan calls after him.
Sui Zhou says nothing and makes no gesture that indicates he’s heard Tang Fan. Tang Fan still shouts “Thank you!” at his retreating back.
Tang Yu has already spread the robe across his bed, taking the time to smooth out the long sleeves and making it easier to appreciate the impressive embroidery. At least Wang Zhi has good taste.
Tang Yu is still poking and prodding at Tang Fan when he begins to smell something wonderful coming from the kitchen. It’s too soon to begin cooking the duck, Sui Zhou would know that it needs to marinate for a while, so Tang Fan busies himself with trying to decide what exactly is that delicious smell.
Something sweet, he thinks. Perhaps mung bean soup. They’ll be eating later than normal, it should be cool by—
“Ow!” he squeaks at a particularly sharp tug at his hair. He looks over his shoulder to see his sister glaring at him.
“If you could just sit still,” she grumbles. “I might not get a chance to do this again. You are getting older. Who knows when you’ll get married”
Tang Fan rolls his eyes. “Jie, you don’t need to worry about me.” He tries to project an aura of wisdom in hopes that will calm her.
She swats at his shoulder instead. “I’m your sister. Of course, I need to worry about you. Now hush so I can get this right.”
“Yes, Jie,” Tang Fan responds with a pout and turns to face forward. Guangchuan, he tries to telepathically communicate to Sui Zhou, I want eggplant on the side, and salt-and-pepper tofu, and…
***********************
Tang Yu calls out to Dong’er when she had no other reason to poke at Tang Fan’s scalp. Dong’er slides her head through the door with one of those mischievous smiles she wears when she gets to bother Tang Fan. The smell of whatever’s happening in the kitchen follows her. For a moment Tang Fan considers dropping the farce so he can bully Sui Zhou into giving him a taste.
“Tang-dage, you look so handsome!” Dong’er exclaims.
“You say that like it’s not always true,” Tang Fan grumbles. Still, he smiles, a little wiggle of satisfaction running up his spine. He feels handsome. He runs a hand over his hair to observe that there isn’t a strand out of place.
Tang Yu swats at his hand. “Don’t mess it up,” she says with no venom in her voice. “Dong’er, come here.” Dong’er rushes to Tang Yu’s side. “Help me get this ready.”
They both pulled out the robe from its packaging again. At first, Tang Fan’s not sure why Dong’er is even here—he can dress himself!—but then the two of them begin to lay the robe flat and ooo and ahh over the various details and Tang Fan wonders why he’s even here.
“It’s so beautiful!” Tang Yu says, for what is neither the first, second, nor third time. Tang Fan watches her, concerned that this silly joke is actually reminding her of her recent divorce, and wonders if he should distract her. Then she points out some of the embroidery in the interior of one of the sleeves to Dong’er with a girly glee he hasn’t associated with his sister in years, and Tang Fan decides to leave it be.
He also decides he’s not needed.
Dong’er and Tang Yu don’t even notice when he walks out of the room and into the courtyard, where he’s surprised to see Wuyun walking across the courtyard with a dead sheep slung over his shoulders. “Wuyun!” he calls. “What’s that for?”
“Oirat wedding custom,” Duo’erla responds from behind him.
Tang Fan—who had not realized she was near—jumps. “We already have food! Lots of it!” He sniffs theatrically at the banquet of smells filling the courtyard.
“Now you have more,” Wuyun clarifies and disappears into the kitchen with Duo’erla.
Tang Fan is burning with curiosity. He wants to follow and see what is exactly happening in the kitchen. He also wonders how Wuyun and Duo’erla knew to come with a dead sheep in tow. When he had woken up this morning with the goal of deferring the Emporer’s request, he hadn’t expected things to get this out of hand.
And he means that in the best way,
Tang Fan’s about to give in to the temptation to sneak whatever tastes he can get when the main door opens again. “Finally,” Pei Huai says with a wry glint in his eye as he lets himself inside. “I never thought I’d see this day arrive. You could’ve given me more of a heads up. I haven't had much of a chance to put together a wedding gift.”
“Such bad manners,” Tang Fan tells him without any heat. In fact, he says it with crinkly eyes and a wide smile.
“It’s your fault for deciding to get married without me. You didn’t even give me a chance to meet her before today.”
Tang Fan stares at him. It’d be more like glaring if he wasn’t having so much fun. “And scare her off?”
Pei Huai laughs. “I did bring some materials I thought would be interesting for you. You know, on your wedding night,” he says with his most conspiratorial grin while handing over some books.
Tang Fan opens one to the middle and exclaims, “Lao Pei!” He brings the books up closer to his eyes so he can page through them more discreetly. There are pictures, many, many pictures. “These are—” he cuts himself off, too scandalized to finish the sentence.
“As your doctor, I think it is my duty to prepare you. Your sister expects nieces and nephews,” Pei Huai replies, clearly having too much fun with it.
Tang Fan rolls his eyes. He won’t take the bait. “How do you know what my sister wants?”
“Just a hunch. Now if you don’t want the books…” Pei Huai trails off with his hand out, waiting for Tang Fan to return them.
“No, if this is all you’re giving me, then I’m keeping them.” Tang Fan can keep them for novel research.
Pei Huai’s grin grows even wider. “I thought so. Now, speaking of your sister—”
“Tang-dage!” Dong’er calls from Tang Fan’s bedroom door. “It’s time!”
Tang Fan shares a confused look with Pei Huai for the moments it takes Tang Fan to catch on. “Ah. It’s time,” he says enigmatically. He turns to walk away, then remembers what he’s holding and shoves them into Pei Huai’s arms. “I’m coming back for them.”
Pei Huai nods before grasping Tang Fan’s shoulder. “What type of friend do you think I am?”
Cheng’er runs out of wherever he was hiding and wraps his arms around Pei Huai’s legs, letting Tang Fan leave the question unanswered.
Back in his room, it looks as if his sister and Dong’er have finished laying out all the components that make up the outfit. “Do you need help?” his sister asks, gesturing to everything as if to anticipate Tang Fan’s confusion.
Except he’s not confused. “I can manage.” He shoos them out of his room.
It does end up being more confusing than Tang Fan had expected, a fact that Tang Fan blames Wang Zhi more than anyone else. The robe is very nice, however, certainly the most expensive thing Tang Fan has ever worn. Once it’s all on he takes a long look at himself. He squints his eyes and steps more into the shadow; it almost looks like Pan Bin’s governor robes. The color and design are all off; that’s what he’s really imagining, anyway. Certainly a step up from what he was wearing in Tongzhou.
With that thought, he opens his door and peers out. Tang Yu and Pei Huai are talking while Dong’er and Duo’erla chase Cheng’er around. Tang Fan feels incredibly fond of all of them.
The reveal ends up anti-climatic, and since there are no real traditions to keep him busy until dinner, Tang Fan waits for dinner. At some point, a cup of liquor is put in his hand and Tang Yu hovers as if Tang Fan is unable to keep from spilling all over himself. The pretense for the gathering is flimsy, barely acknowledged, but everyone seems to be enjoying themselves. Tang Fan certainly is.
It’s by smell alone that he knows it’s time to move on to the next part of the evening. The glorious scents that have been wafting from the kitchen become harder to ignore as they move to the now-lit dining room. Tang Fan does not need to be told where he should be. He leads the group that’s been mingling inside only to pause when he sees the feast laid out before him. There’s duck with plum sauce, salt-and-pepper tofu, and eggplant—just as he wanted—but there’s also wood-ear mushrooms, winter melon soup, and pig knuckles.
Tang Fan can’t remember the last time he’s seen such a spread. He casts an eye towards Sui Zhou, whose sleeves are still tied back, and catches him smiling as he busies himself organizing plates on the table. Dong’er pushes Tang Fan in the direction of his usual chair while everyone takes their seats. It feels surprising that so many people can sit at the same table where he, Sui Zhou, and Dong’er eat their nightly meals. It feels right.
Only two chairs stay open. Tang Fan looks around, trying to figure out where Wuyun and Duo’erla have gone and gears himself up to argue with Sui Zhou if he asked them to leave. The words get caught in his throat, however, when he sees the two of them walking in from the kitchen with what looks like a full fifth of a boiled sheep.
“At an Oirat wedding, you should present the—” Duo’erla pauses to look at Wuyun questioningly.
Wuyun takes a moment to think it through. “The sacrum,” he contributes.
Duo’erla nods. “Yes. You should present the sheep sacrum to the most important people at the feast.” She looks from person to person before saying something to Wuyun in Oirat that Tang Fan can’t understand.
Wuyun shrugs and tries to answer the question. “Hm. Tang Yu is Tang Fan’s oldest relative,” he says finally, with a nod in Tang Yu’s direction before looking at Pei Huai. “But Pei-daifu is a doctor. And Sui-daren is the head of the household.”
There’s a moment of silence while Duo’erla considers this problem. Wuyun gently nudges her, and without saying anything, she seems to come to a decision and hovers over Dong’er. It takes a little shuffling but soon they clear enough of a space that they can place the tray down in front of her.
Cheng’er—who’s sitting next to her—gasps in delight, but Dong’er just looks confused. “But now I don’t have room for the rest of dinner…” she starts, but everyone just continues to shift plates around so that there is space for the sheep and a full plate.
They settle like that into their chairs, easy and quick. Dong'er is encouraged to butcher the part of the sheep in front of her, a task Sui Zhou and Tang Yu rush to help with. Then bowls and plates are passed from person to person with a kind of controlled chaos that feels as if everyone’s been practicing and still forgetting the steps as they go. “Tang Fan!” Pei Huai calls from across the table, his voice softened by the sheer volume of movement going on in the space between them. “Since this is your party, you should say something.”
Tang Fan has been spending the day getting prepared for such a question. He’s been playing with words, trying to pinpoint a piece of poetry in his memory that properly conveys how he’s feeling. Yet he finds as he looks from person to person, both friend and family, he can’t think of something clever enough or beautiful enough to capture it. It’s a perfect dinner. The only thing missing is Wang Zhi’s presence. He should be here to enjoy this. Tang Fan thinks they could have found space for another chair. He knows they could’ve.
The cacophony has died down while the focus of the room has shifted from the feast to Tang Fan. With bone-deep satisfaction, Tang Fan grins and says, “Let’s eat.”