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Some people (mostly ex-lovers) may say otherwise but Pei Ming is in fact a good guy. He is upfront and honest. He tells people where they are with him—for instance, 'yes, you are a one-night stand and nothing more,’ and ‘no, sleeping with you again because you asked me to will not change my mind, but I will sleep with you again, sure.' These are both sentences that Pei Ming has said, possibly more than once.
Pei Ming is also a good friend, exceedingly generous and kind. He always buys the drinks. He always gets his friends on the guest list into the latest trendy bar or downtown club. He always abides by the code of conduct between friends, or what he calls the 'bro code', and would, for instance, never tread on a bro’s toes just to get with someone.
In short, Pei Ming lives an honourable life.
But just this once, just this evening, he wonders whether he could be a little less honourable, if only to help out a friend (or two).
They're at a bar tonight, as is typical of their now monthly college reunions. They'd fallen out of the habit for a few years, but after some high drama including the arrest of their old college principal, it's safe to say that the crew are back together again.
The people who normally turn up (the regulars to Pei Ming's organised fun) typically come in pairs. These are:
- Pei Xiu, Pei Ming's cousin, and his girlfriend, Banyue;
- Xie Lian and his boyfriend, Hua Cheng;
- Shi Qingxuan and Shi Wudu, the latter if only to make sure Qingxuan isn’t whisked away somewhere by someone who they all avoid naming, for fear of incurring Shi Wudu’s wrath; and lastly,
- Feng Xin and Mu Qing, who still argue all the time, still always seem at risk of digressing into a fist fight, but have, nevertheless, lived together for five years and remain seemingly always in each other’s vicinity.
Pei Ming is typically the lone wolf at these parties. He never brings a date, thinking that it’s his designated friend time (while allowing himself the opportunity to find a partner during the course of the evening).
But tonight, the situation is different. It’s a rare night when there is a lone wolf other than him.
Pei Ming rubs his chin in thought, looking over to the lithe figure dressed all in black to his left. Mu Qing sits about five bar stools away, one hand playing on his phone and the other hand fiddling with a half-empty glass of cola.
Pei Ming turns to look over his shoulder. Feng Xin laughs very loudly at something that one of his old archery club teammates says.
That’s the other thing. Pei Ming is such a good friend that these gatherings are never exclusive. Ol’ Pei doesn’t like anyone to feel left out, so technically, everyone is invited. This means sometimes, the regulars invite other people from back in their college days and tonight, Feng Xin has invited his old archery club mates to join them.
They seem to be having a fantastic time, chanting and singing songs, playing drinking games while telling funny anecdotes and reminiscing about old times amongst themselves.
But this does, of course, mean that one of the pairs is broken up.
There’s Mu Qing.
And then, separately, there’s Feng Xin.
Pei Ming is a good friend. He doesn’t like anyone to feel left out. So he gets off his seat, takes his whisky on the rocks and moves five seats down to sit next to Mu Qing.
Back in college, Mu Qing used to be called the Ice Princess, for the simple reason that he was as pretty as a princess and immovable if you made a pass at him. You could try as many times as you liked, but Mu Qing would simply stare at you, unimpressed, raising a single eyebrow before he’d turn back to scrolling on his phone, as though a picture of a cat was endlessly more entertaining than the prospect of being in your company.
This alone had been enough to put Pei Ming off trying it on with Mu Qing (even if he hadn’t made a rather specific pact).
Still, then was then and this is now. Pei Ming has an excellent idea for some fun, which may also have the effect of helping two of his oldest friends out. He says as much to Mu Qing, who very, very slowly looks up from his phone.
“What do you mean.”
Pei Ming has always found it intriguing, what power Mu Qing holds: how he can ask a question so flatly, so disinterestedly, that if Pei Ming were a lesser man, he’d already be regretting having suggested anything at all.
“Aw, come on, Mu Qing, Qing-er,” Pei Ming says in that sweet, persuasive voice that he knows reaps results, “Don’t you want to have some fun tonight? I’ve got an excellent idea—
“I’m not sleeping with you,” Mu Qing says bluntly, rolling his eyes and already turning back to his phone. “Frankly, I’m surprised it’s taken you this long to proposition me, but no. I’m not interested. Not even a little.”
Once again, if Pei Ming were a lesser man, he’d be on the floor like crumpled tissue at such a cold rejection, but no, that’s not what he’s after today.
“Qing-er, you wound me greatly,” Pei Ming acts out the dagger to his heart, “I wasn’t going to ask you to come to bed with me. Well, not literally. Figuratively though—you could.”
Mu Qing’s eyebrows narrow and his gaze flickers up briefly from his brightly lit screen to Pei Ming.
“Being figuratively in bed with you sounds awful. Like some play on ‘you’ve made your bed, now you have to lay in it.’ I don’t want to lay anywhere with you. God knows where you’ve been.”
Pei Ming laughs out loud. He forgets, sometimes, that this is how Mu Qing talks to his friends. Sarcastic and scathing. Holding nothing back. This is Mu Qing at his most natural. Only with Mu Qing could being insulted be a privilege borne from friendship.
“Okay, okay, fine, but hear me out. How are things going with you and Feng Xin?”
That finally manages to grab Mu Qing’s attention. He looks up slowly, fire and fury in those jet black eyes.
“What do you mean?” He says through gritted teeth, “Things with Feng Xin are…fine. Like they’ve always been. Fine.”
“Right. But y’know, how are things ?”
Pei Ming waggles his eyebrows. He watches as Mu Qing’s jaw tightens and he starts to unconsciously grind his teeth in irritation.
“Come on, are you two still not a thing yet?” Pei Ming continues, undeterred, “It’s been what, five years since you moved in together, over ten years since you’ve been bickering like an old married couple. Haven’t you guys, y’know…?”
Pei Ming waggles his eyebrows some more. Mu Qing’s mouth drops open in disgust.
“The fuck?!” He reels back, a rosy, pink hue sitting high on his cheeks and pretty bangs swaying in indignation, “We moved in together because we’re friends . And we don’t bicker ‘like an old married couple’! We bicker like we’ve been divorced for thirty years. Like we hate each other, because we do, because we’ve always hated each other. I amend what I just said—we’re absolutely not friends. We’re probably more like frenemies. Reluctant frenemies! So there!”
Silence. Silence is a powerful weapon. Pei Ming simply sits in the silence, lets himself bathe in it as he takes a long sip from his glass, letting Mu Qing’s own words, awkward and a little incoherent, sink into them both. He watches as Mu Qing gets redder and redder, glaring harder and harder at Pei Ming, but Pei Ming is experienced at being on the receiving end of beautiful people’s ire, so he patiently waits it out, maintaining eye contact.
It’s only a matter of time before Mu Qing clicks his tongue and snaps his head to look away abruptly, directing his frustration into the murky depths of his cola.
“Nothing is happening, okay?” He says with forced calmness, face still a little pink.
“But you want it to, right?” Pei Ming asks.
It’s an honest question, one he’s sure he knows the answer to. Pei Ming has known them both long enough to know—they’re not exactly subtle when one knows where to look for the little signs of affection, and Pei Ming is an expert at taking cues. He sees the way a fist punches a shoulder and lingers there longer than it needs to; the way a mean bark of laughter hides an endless well of affection.
Mu Qing gives Pei Ming a withering look. His lips are pulled downwards in something of a half grimace, delicate fingers on strong hands continuing to play with the rim of the glass distractedly. For a moment, his jaw visibly tightens but then he lets out a huff. It’s short, sharp and aggressive, but something seems to have slipped out of Mu Qing alongside the air.
“What does it matter,” Mu Qing says, flat again and with an honesty that Pei Ming knows is a rare treasure from this man who normally has his heart in a fortress, “It’s never going to happen.”
Pei Ming’s entire demeanour softens. He leans towards Mu Qing out of an instinct to coddle and comfort. Mu Qing shoots him a warning glare, like an animal about to bolt. Pei Ming stops mid-lean, upper body tilting towards him but leaving just enough distance between them to be respectful of the other’s personal space. Mu Qing relaxes his shoulders an inch.
“Qing-er, darling, don’t be like that,” Pei Ming says softly, “Why do you think it’s not going to happen? You should have more faith in yourself.”
Mu Qing huffs and looks away. Pei Ming hopes the fortress remains open, just for a little longer.
“You said it yourself,” Mu Qing says, “We’ve lived together for five years and had this same—whatever the fuck we have—since we’ve known each other. It doesn’t matter what I want, because if it was going to happen then it would have already happened.”
There Mu Qing goes again, doing that thing he always does—stating his opinion like fact, in that same way he states questions like statements.
“You should really stop just declaring things as truth like that,” Pei Ming admonishes lightly. He grins as he continues where he left off a few minutes ago:
“See, that’s where my brilliant idea for some fun comes in. The one you so cruelly rejected before hearing.”
Mu Qing looks at him suspiciously, but this doesn’t put Pei Ming off in the slightest.
“You know, since college, you’ve had this reputation—
Mu Qing’s eyes narrow harshly.
—no, no, I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I was just going to mention the ‘Ice Princess’ reputation! Nothing else.”
This time, Mu Qing’s feline eyes round out as he rolls them instead.
“You see,” Pei Ming licks his lips, “Don’t you think that you’ve given Feng Xin too easy a ride?”
Mu Qing fiddles with his glass again. This time, he also bites his lip. It would be alluring if Pei Ming hadn’t already written Mu Qing off his hit list.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Mu Qing mutters.
“Aw come on, you must know what I mean!” Pei Ming replies, “You’ve never let anyone except Feng Xin melt that icy facade of yours. We all know it’s warm under there—but who, other than Feng Xin, has ever really felt the heat? You’ve not given him any competition for your warmth, your passion—you’ve never given anyone else a chance!”
Long fingers continue to circle the rim of the cola glass.
“I don’t know what you’re suggesting though,” Mu Qing mutters still, “Should I just let the first man who wants to take me out just…do that, then? Should I just try and get over this…thing I…f-feel for…F…him?”
Even though he’s as good as admitted his feelings, he still has a tough time saying it out loud. It’d be adorable if it wasn’t so frustrating, Pei Ming thinks. But he can’t ask for more—it’s already a miracle that the fortress remains open for him to continue this conversation. Pei Ming already feels like luck is on his side tonight.
“No, no, no,” He chuckles, shaking his head, “I want both your happiness, and I assure you that getting over your feelings for Xinxin won’t get you there. I’m just suggesting that we—
Pei Ming points an index finger at himself, then at Mu Qing.
—that is, you and I, specifically, have a little game. Create a little competition. Just enough to convince Feng Xin that you might feel some heat. For me.”
The next look that Mu Qing shoots him is incredulous, as though he cannot believe what he’s hearing.
“You’re s-suggesting that you—and me—seriously?!”
Pei Ming nods enthusiastically.
For a moment, the look remains on Mu Qing’s face. Then, with cheeks aglow, Mu Qing grabs the pristine white collar of Pei Ming’s shirt and abruptly tugs him close, so close that Pei Ming can see the brown specks within Mu Qing’s irises.
Pei Ming finds himself a little breathless, in spite of himself.
“You little—I thought you had an actual idea ,” Mu Qing says lowly, spitting venom straight into Pei Ming’s face, “But no. You were really just trying to hit on me, weren’t you? After all these years, I thought we were friends but you’re really just trying to get some— any —aren’t you? How pathetic.”
Pei Ming is grinning hard. He’s having the time of his life. He puts a hand gently over Mu Qing’s as he looks directly into those pretty eyes, filled with momentary hatred for him.
“You’ve misunderstood me, Mu Qing,” Pei Ming says softly, almost whispering.
One by one, he slowly pries the fingers clutching his shirt loose.
“I’m deadly serious about this, and only for the reason I mentioned. Not for my own gain, I promise.”
When all fingers are off his collar, Pei Ming continues to hold Mu Qing’s hand, turning it over in his palm and playing with each long digit. Mu Qing leans back slightly, frowning as he watches Pei Ming, suspicion still rife.
Seeming about to extract his hand from Pei Ming, the latter holds onto it tighter.
“Just give us a moment,” Pei Ming advises, grinning still. Mu Qing frowns in response, like before but with added confusion.
“Just a few moments like this.”
Pei Ming clarifies, interlinking their fingers.
“I don’t understand,” Mu Qing says, looking between Pei Ming’s face and their now intertwined hands.
“Just a few moments, you know, so he can see.”
“I don’t think he’s going to…”
“I promise, he will.”
Pei Ming leans a little closer, closer than before, and is about to position his head so that it looks like he might kiss Mu Qing when there’s a loud crash from behind them.
Both men startle out of their positions. Pei Ming lets Mu Qing’s hand go as he turns around to see where the noise has come from.
At the table a few metres away from them, there’s a man sprawled on the floor, face down in the carpet and looking as though he’s just tripped over the table leg. His drink has spilled, there’s liquid soaking into the expensive material under him, but luckily the glass hasn’t smashed. Mu Qing’s eyes widen.
“Feng Xin!”
Mu Qing rushes off his bar stool to go help him up. Feng Xin grunts in pain as he lifts his head then his body up off the ground. They examine his (admittedly chaffed) palms together, with Mu Qing berating him for being clumsy, like a mother hen scolding its chick. Feng Xin is entirely red in the face—from the alcohol, from having fallen on his face, but also, probably from all the commotion he’s caused. There’s laughter from the archery table and some of his ex-club mates telling him he’s drunk too much.
Feng Xin tries to stand up, wincing when he tries to put pressure on his leg. He wobbles, but Mu Qing catches him. Feng Xin collapses into him silently.
“Come on, let’s go home,” Mu Qing grumbles.
Clicking his tongue in disapproval, Mu Qing nevertheless props Feng Xin up as he moves them towards the door, throwing Feng Xin’s arm over his shoulder and supporting him with one of his own arms around his waist.
Pei Ming whistles lowly to himself. Looks like Feng Xin may have twisted an ankle there.
It could have been that Feng Xin really had drunk too much, excited as he was to see his old friends again. But from the way Feng Xin had looked at him when he left the bar—pained, confused, betrayed —Pei Ming doubts the fall was because of the drink.
He smiles to himself. Well, what was a little pain for some gain?
***
The next day, Pei Ming decides to see whether his plan has already borne fruit. As he’s drinking his morning coffee, he texts Mu Qing: how was your night?
It takes most of the morning for Mu Qing to reply, even though it’s the weekend (because like the responsible (boring) adults they all are now, they have these reunions on Friday nights only).
Mu Qing (11:02): Ugh.
Mu Qing (11:02): Don’t. He’s being weird.
Pei Ming (11:02) : Ho ho! So it’s already working then, yes?
The ellipsis bobs up and down for several seconds, stopping then starting again.
Mu Qing (11:04) : I don’t know.
Pei Ming (11:04) : Hm?? He must be acting funny bc hes jealous, no?
Mu Qing (11:07): I think he might just be pissed that he’s sprained his ankle so he can’t go out today.
Pei Ming blinks at his screen for a second. He supposes that, if they haven’t gotten together after ten years of mutual affection and five years of living on top of one another, he shouldn’t have expected his mission to have been so easy. One night of pretend flirting was never going to be enough to get the two of them together!
Pei Ming (11:08) : Alright then. Shall we continue? 👀
Mu Qing (11:08) : ?
Pei Ming (11:08): Continue. Where we left off yesterday.
Mu Qing (11:10): I don’t want to hold your hand.
Mu Qing (11:10): Besides, I can't hold your hand through the phone.
Pei Ming (11:10): Oh Qing-er, sweet Qing-er. There are other ways to show romantic interest, yknow? 👀👀
Mu Qing (11:10): You’re so gross.
Pei Ming (11:10): What’s Feng Xin doing now?
Mu Qing (11:11): Sitting on the sofa, looking annoyed watching this talk show and eating potato chips.
Pei Ming (11:11): K. Can he see you?
Mu Qing (11:11): Yeah, I’m sitting at the dining table but he can see me.
Pei Ming (11:11): Right, so just keep texting me.
Mu Qing (11:11): ?? For how long??
Pei Ming (11:11): Just until he notices how long you’ve been on your phone.
Mu Qing (11:12): That could literally be never??
Pei Ming (11:12): Just keep texting. You trust me don’t you?
Mu Qing (11:12): …
There’s a pause where not even the ellipsis is showing up on Mu Qing’s side. Pei Ming chuckles to himself. He really has given himself a tough nut to crack here.
Pei Ming (11:13): Hey, just text me quotes you remember, or your shopping list, or something. Pretend like you enjoy talking to me.
Mu Qing (11:14): Sigh.
Mu Qing (11:16): Fine.
Despite his obvious reluctance, Mu Qing does start sending him links without context. It’s quite clear soon after he starts that it’s his wish list, which turns out to be fairly extensive. They’re mostly practical items, the majority of which are kitchen utensils, like a garlic crusher, a julienne peeler, a new set of silicon spatulas, a whole kitchen aid—but then there are also books, some furniture and, most surprisingly, a purple cat plush toy with a grumpy expression and thick furrowed eyebrows.
Pei Ming grins. He follows the link to the plush toy, searching in his chat history for the last time Feng Xin invited him over for drinks and a games night (because of course, Mu Qing never invites people over to their house). He gets the address from there and purchases the plush toy in extra large for next day delivery.
Mu Qing (11:32): www.luxurykitchen.com/buy/OOXOO-salt-and-pepper-shaker.htm
Mu Qing (11:32): Okay, can I stop now? Feng Xin’s just limped back into his bedroom.
Pei Ming (11:33): Ooooh!! How did he look? Did he say anything?!
Mu Qing (11:33): Nothing out of the ordinary. Grumpy, like usual. Muttering under his breath, couldn’t hear what.
Mu Qing (11:33): He didn’t even glance in my direction though, so I don’t think he noticed me.
Pei Ming sighs and shakes his head. There’s no one around to see him, which means there's also no one around to share his pain at their obtuseness.
Pei Ming (11:33): Dw Qingqing. Let’s hit pause and pick this back up later, hm?
Mu Qing (11:34): Ugh, you really don’t have to. In fact, please don’t.
Pei Ming sends an eggplant emoji to sign-off (because it’s funny, because it’s his signature, because why not!), then he stretches his arms. He’s got a lunch date with a hot lady who works in the office building next to his and he’s got to shower before then.
***
When Pei Ming next looks at his phone, fresh from the shower, he sees a litany of curses from Mu Qing (who clearly didn’t appreciate his eggplant greeting) and one message from Feng Xin.
Rubbing his hands together in delighted anticipation, Pei Ming unlocks his phone:
Feng Xin (11:45) : Stop harassing Mu Qing.
Pei Ming raises an eyebrow, unable to control his lips curling into a smirk.
Pei Ming (12:05): And why do you think I’m harassing him?
He puts the phone down to towel dry his hair but the response is almost instant.
Feng Xin (12:05) : He was really mad after texting you.
Pei Ming puts his towel down. Pei Ming is a good friend. He’ll risk bad hair for his date if it’s for the sake of a friend.
Pei Ming (12:06): And how do you know he was texting me?
Feng Xin (12:06): Bc
Feng Xin (12:06): He was on his phone for ages
Feng Xin (12:06): Then he got mad, I asked him what was wrong and he just said
Feng Xin (12:06): PEI. MING.
Pei Ming (12:06): But he didn’t say I was harassing him, right? He didn’t say that, did he?
Feng Xin (12:06): No
Feng Xin (12:06): But it was clear whatever you said was out of order.
Feng Xin (12:07): So don’t do it again.
Is it a threat? Pei Ming can’t decide. But he can certainly feel Feng Xin’s perpetual desire to protect, to guard, from through his phone screen.
Xinxin, this is tough love, Pei Ming thinks wistfully. But at the end of the day, Pei Ming is a softie for his friends, so while he could draw this out, ask more pressing and soul-searching questions, he doesn’t want to destroy Feng Xin in one night and one morning. So instead, he messages:
Pei Ming (12:07): Ok buddy, dw. I won’t.
***
The day passes smoothly enough. The date Pei Ming has goes well and Pei Ming scores a second date. He even manages a kiss on the cheek, which is pretty standard progress for him on the first date. The second date will be in the evening, which will be a better setting for a kiss on the lips, with tongues and all.
After the date, he goes to the gym. After the gym, he cooks himself his usual bachelor’s dinner. After dinner, he zoom calls Ling Wen, who’s out of the country doing ‘important lawyer things’ and they call in Shi Wudu, who, for some reason, is always in the office even on a Saturday evening.
After talking to his friends, Pei Ming falls into a sweet dreamless slumber. He wakes up. He works out. He listens to the radio and sings some of his favourite tunes, which, admittedly are not recent. Feeling a little too old for his liking, he drives himself to the mall and goes shopping for a new wardrobe—because he can afford to, so why the hell not.
It’s as he’s browsing the mall, waiting for the barista to make him an iced coffee, that his phone pings.
Mu Qing (14:08): Wtf did you send to my house
Pei Ming grins.
Pei Ming (14:08): Aha! Pls, show me.
Mu Qing (14:08): IMG-12482XYU.jpg
The purple cat plushie he’d ordered the day before stares back at him, taking up an entire person’s space on the sofa. With its unhappy expression and angry eyebrows, it looks right at home in the Feng-Mu household.
Pei Ming (14:09): So happy it made it to you. You like it then?
Mu Qing (14:09): No?? It’s too big.
Pei Ming wastes no time sending an eggplant emoji.
Mu Qing (14:09): FUCKING.
Mu Qing (14:09): If you send me another eggplant, istg I will castrate you, motherfucker.
Pei Ming (14:09): 😂😂😂
Pei Ming (14:10): Come on, Qing-er~~ We’re supposed to be flirting here!
Mu Qing (14:13): 🙄
Mu Qing (14:13): Anyway, I wanted the little one. Not this huge thing.
Mu Qing (14:13): How are FX and I meant to watch TV together if this thing takes up half the sofa space?
Pei Ming smiles to himself. They’re sweet. They really are. Which begs the question: why can’t they just be sweet to each other, and finally begin their sickeningly adorable romantic lives together?
The barista finishes making his coffee, so Pei Ming heads out of the store, typing as he chews on the straw.
Pei Ming (14:15): I do apologise for not thinking that far ahead. How’s FX reacted?
Mu Qing (14:15): He was just confused. Asked me why I bought this thing.
Pei Ming (14:15): Oh? And you told him it was from me, right?
Mu Qing (14:15): …No.
Pei Ming (14:15): ??? Then what did you say?
Mu Qing (14:15): Nothing?? I just 🙄 and ignored him??
Pei Ming (14:16): Lol. Pls tell him it was from me.
Mu Qing (14:25): The moment’s gone. It’d be weird if I did it now.
Why are his friends like this? Pei Ming sighs again. But he’s committed now. There’s no backing out. The seeds of doubt have been planted in young Feng Xin’s mind and Pei Ming will see them sprout, damn it!
Pei Ming scans the mall map and picks out the stores that he’d usually go to for gifts for his dates. He will buy his friends’ happiness. That’s what Shi Wudu would tell him to do, anyway.
***
Pei Ming schedules the gifts with the stores and tells them to send them for various arrival dates. The roses arrive on the Monday, a crystal earring on the Tuesday, a smaller plush toy on the Wednesday. Thursday, Pei Ming gets a cake delivered, and on Friday, the best gift is delivered.
Mu Qing sends him a photo of the branded salt and pepper shaker and simply says ‘thanks’.
He then, without prompt from Pei Ming, sends a short clip of a plate of stir-fried vegetables, on which he uses the salt and pepper shaker. He’s added a filter to it so that there are sparkles manifesting over the finished dish. Pei Ming smiles fondly.
Pei Ming (19:35): You’re very welcome :)
Mu Qing (19:35): But seriously. You’re stopping now, right?
Mu Qing (19:35): All this stuff is expensive.
Mu Qing (19:36): I’ll pay you back.
Mu Qing (19:36): How much?
Pei Ming (19:36): No, no, wouldn’t dream of taking money from you!
Pei Ming (19:36): Just think of it like this. After our mission succeeds, then you can buy me a drink. How’s that?
Pei Ming’s phone falls silent. A few times, the ellipsis appears on his screen, but then it disappears again, leaving just the two blue ticks showing the last message delivered and read. Pei Ming is used to Mu Qing’s habits by now, always thinking about how he should phrase what he wants to say, always so careful. It’s a habit that in the long run has probably contributed to his stagnant relationship with Feng Xin.
Eventually, Pei Ming’s phone pings:
Mu Qing (19:54): I don’t think it’s going to work.
Pei Ming frowns, but dutifully replies:
Pei Ming (19:55): What makes you say that?
Mu Qing (19:55): He’s been moody all week.
Mu Qing (19:55): Because of the sprained ankle.
Mu Qing (19:56): I’m not sure he’s even noticed all these gifts.
Pei Ming (19:56): Have you said they’re from me?
Mu Qing (19:57): I’ve not needed to. He saw your cards.
Well, after Mu Qing’s amateur mistake, Pei Ming did make sure every gift came with a card. Pei Ming was, after all, strategically-minded. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice.
Mu Qing (19:57): He just sorta left the room after glancing at them.
Mu Qing (19:57): Like I said, he’s moody.
Pei Ming (19:57): Maybe he’s moody because he thinks I’m stealing you away?
Mu Qing (18:05): Don’t joke around.
Mu Qing (18:07): Anyway, I want to pay you back.
Mu Qing (18:07): I appreciate you trying, even though it’s not worked.
Mu Qing (18:07): Just let me have this, okay?
Pei Ming is an excellent friend. He cannot deny them anything.
Pei Ming (18:07): Of course, sweetheart. For what it’s worth, I think you’re wrong, but I would be rude not to accept a gift from you :)
***
The gift arrives at the weekend. Pei Ming meets Mu Qing at a park on Sunday. They find a bench in a quiet location and settle down before Mu Qing unloads his rucksack.
He gets out a huge jar of pickled radishes, cabbage, carrots and cucumber, then two little pots of soup, a small jar of seaweed with little chilli flakes and sesame seeds, then a lunch box with two tiers containing marinated beef and chicken and one tier of grilled fish. Then of course, there’s the rice, set in a thermal container, which has kept it warm on its journey.
Pei Ming marvels at the generous spread.
“Mu Qing! I had no idea you could cook!”
Mu Qing lifts his nose in the air arrogantly but says nothing else as he hands Pei Ming a cup and starts to pour him some pre-brewed tea. He hands him some chopsticks, ladles rice into two biodegradable bowls he’d brought with him, then gives Pei Ming one portion.
Pei Ming piles as many of the various dishes onto his rice as possible. As soon he takes a mouthful, he shuts his eyes. He’s in heaven.
“Mmm! This is delicious!”
He enjoys his meal with enthusiasm, tasting a little bit of everything until there’s nothing left.
Mu Qing gives him a small smile. It’s a tiny sliver of sunlight between a whole sky of grey clouds. Pei Ming understands from having known him for a decade that such smiles are rarer than the most precious gems, a true treasure.
“You didn’t have to do this,” he says, suppressing a burp as he pats his—still toned—but now slighter larger belly. “You know I don’t care for money. It was nothing really.”
Mu Qing rolls his eyes, though there’s no heat to it.
“I told you. Just let me have this.”
They sit in amiable silence for a while. It’s a nice day, objectively. There are birds singing in the trees. There are butterflies, courting the daffodils and hyacinths. The sun is not too bright, but it is warm, giving the whole place an air of leisure; as though it’s all right for everyone to go at their own pace, even if only for today.
Vibrant green leaves splay out from knobbly tree branches, dancing to the tune of a light breeze.
It’s spring, but for some reason, Pei Ming feels like it's already the end of things.
“Are you sure you want me to stop?” he asks, still watching the swaying trees, “It’s only been a week. That’s not enough time, really, is it?”
“It’s been ten years, Pei Ming,” says Mu Qing. He sounds tired. “I’m not going to say anything. And he doesn’t…”
He drifts off, like a butterfly caught on the wind.
“We’re not going to happen.”
And he says it with such finality, with such resolve and resignation, that Pei Ming almost believes him.
***
They spend a few more hours in the park, just admiring their surroundings and appreciating the beauty of nature. That is one thing they have in common that Pei Ming should have known before, but never really acknowledged: their mutual appreciation for the beautiful things.
The sun is setting by the time they finally decide to call it a day and make their individual ways home. It’s as Mu Qing is starting to clear away the Tupperware and utensils that Pei Ming suddenly gets the urge to ask if he can take one photo of them, just to commemorate the occasion.
“We’ll look back in a few more years’ time and I’ll say, ‘hey! Remember that time you gave me a fantastic homemade meal in the park?’”
In typical Mu Qing fashion, he rolls his eyes.
“Yeah, and I’ll say, ‘oh you mean that time you tried and failed to get me and Feng Xin together?’”
The words come out of him too easily, almost as though he didn’t mean to say them. But once they’ve been said, there’s already no way for Mu Qing to swallow them back down again, even if he wants to—even though it looks like he wants to. Pei Ming sees the signs, however short-lived and however good a control Mu Qing has on his facial facilities: there’s a pain that settles briefly in the pinch between his brows and the minute wobble of his lips lasts for a split second before dissipating, as though it had never been there.
Pei Ming has never really experienced heartbreak himself, but he’s seen it plenty of times. It doesn’t look good on Mu Qing.
Feeling momentarily protective of his friend, Pei Ming swings an arm around Mu Qing. He lifts his phone up to where he knows the angle is flattering and captures a picture of them both—Pei Ming with his big cheesy grin and Mu Qing looking disgruntled at having been jostled for the photo. There’s a pile of Tupperware in Mu Qing’s hand from where he was mid-cleaning up. It’s clear that they’ve just had a feast.
“Put the phone away and help me,” Mu Qing grumbles once the photo is taken.
It’s an order, which Pei Ming gladly obeys.
***
It’s later that evening while Pei Ming is about to get ready for bed that he thinks it’s a good idea to post the photo to his social media account. He captions it lightly, with a ‘Thanks for the meal 😘’, which is along the same vibe as most of his other photos. For a split second, he considers whether he should blur out Mu Qing’s face or ask him if he’s okay with him uploading the photo. But hey, Mu Qing doesn’t even have an account on this site (so will he even find out?) and it’s just a photo of them having a meal together, nothing incriminating or scandalous, so no big deal, right?
Pei Ming doesn’t bother with the checking and just posts the picture before going to take a shower and completing his meticulous skincare regime. He’s blissfully unaware and not really thinking about anything when he comes back to his phone, lighting up like there’s no tomorrow.
There are many likes and comments on his new photo, which he had expected, because he’s quite popular and has a modestly large following.
But there is also a string of messages from Feng Xin.
Feng Xin (22:45) : What the actual fuck.
Feng Xin (22:48) : Did you go with MQ to the park today??
Feng Xin (22:53) : Wtf.
Feng Xin (22:55) : Pei Ming, answer me.
Feng Xin (22:58) : Hello???
As Pei Ming looks at the messages, thinking that they look a little like Xuan Ji’s from back in the day, the ellipsis bobs up and down for a second before another message comes in.
Feng Xin (23:01) : Can we meet? I rly need to talk to you.
Pei Ming blinks at his screen for a few seconds. He’s got the message open. The message will show as read. He only has a few more seconds to process before Feng Xin either tries to call him or does something drastic, like come to his actual house right now.
Pei Ming (23:02) : Of course.
Pei Ming (23:02) : Did you have a time or place in mind?
Feng Xin (23:02) : Yes. Tomorrow after work pls.
As Feng Xin pings Pei Ming the location of a family restaurant not too far from Mu Qing and Feng Xin’s house, Pei Ming sits down on his bed, his hands slightly trembling.
Is this it? Could this be The Moment? Can Pei Ming call it early and claim his plan is victorious?
But, as Pei Ming knows, strategically, it’s not over until it’s over.
He forwards the time and location to Mu Qing and goes to bed, giddy with anticipation.
***
The next day comes with a lot of sunlight, both actually and metaphorically. Pei Ming is an enthusiastic and sociable man on a good day, but today he’s even worse, holding doors open for more women than ever, buying random men coffees, laughing loudly at jokes that he’d usually just laugh moderately at.
Though the woman he was expecting a second date with shuns him (probably also misinterpreting his photo with Mu Qing, which is hilarious to Pei Ming), Pei Ming cannot even pretend to be a little sad. In fact, it only serves to remind him that he is so very close to success! Ho ho!
The workday could not end soon enough. Pei Ming packs up punctually and heads off to the restaurant, a spring in his step all the way.
When he gets there, the place is moderately busy despite it being relatively early for dinnertime. It’s an affordable restaurant, plainly decorated, with lots of tables and staff unbothered by how long you want to stay there, making it popular at all hours of the day, particularly with students and young families.
Pei Ming hears his name before he’s able to scan the surroundings properly for Feng Xin.
Swivelling around, he spots the booth that Feng Xin’s in and all thoughts of gleefully strolling over leave Pei Ming immediately.
Feng Xin looks absolutely awful.
He has a shadow around his face, as though he’s not shaved in days. His eyes are red and look sore, as though he’s been rubbing them frequently. He should have gone to work today, but you wouldn’t be able to tell from his clothes—he’s dressed in a hoodie and jeans, hoodie zipped all the way up with the hood close to his ears, as though his shoulders have been hunched up for a while.
Pei Ming has never experienced heartbreak, but he has seen a lot of it over the years.
He hadn’t thought that—
He’d just meant to tease them a little. To give a little push.
Perhaps he’d miscalculated a bit. He didn’t mean to really hurt either of them.
Pei Ming tempers his enthusiasm and strides confidently towards the table. He reminds himself: he is a good friend . Even if he accidentally made one of them cry.
“Feng Xin!” he greets him, patting his arm twice for good measure, “How ya doing? Did you go to work today or…?”
“Work from home,” Feng Xin says, a dead look in his eyes.
Gods, Pei Ming thinks, he even sounds miserable!
“Ah that good ol’ remote working policy right?” Pei Ming tries to keep it light, tries to joke.
He picks up the menu and scans it, talking aloud about getting something to drink, noting that Feng Xin already has a mug of hot chocolate in front of him.
Pei Ming tries to remember whether hot chocolates are a heartbreak drink. (Are they?!)
“Anyway,” he says at length, placing the menu down and turning his gaze back to Feng Xin, who eyes him warily, “What is it you wanted to talk about?”
Might as well rip the bandaid off! Pei Ming’s internal dialogue helpfully chimes in.
Feng Xin’s lip wobbles. Pei Ming feels frozen in his seat.
“Are you serious about Mu Qing?” Feng Xin asks eventually, and gods , he sounds in pain. He sounds like someone’s shot him with a crossbow. In the heart. Twice.
Pei Ming still feels frozen, like a deer caught in the headlights.
So he’d miscalculated the amount of emotional torment his friend would feel from this—that’s fine. He can tell the truth now, clear up the misunderstanding—
“No, I'm not serious about Mu Qing,” Pei Ming says firmly.
This, however, has the opposite effect to what Pei Ming desires, because Feng Xin explodes.
“The FUCK?!” Feng Xin yells, frightening some patrons nearby.
Pei Ming feels for all the young children around them, and their parents, and thanks the stars that the staff here really do not care who comes here.
“The actual fuck, Pei Ming?!” Feng Xin catches himself, tempers his volume so that he whisper-shouts, “I can’t believe you. I knew you were low, but to think you’d stoop so fucking low! If you were serious, I thought I could forgive you, but no. You’re just the same as you’ve always fucking been, trying to get with anyone who moves, even when they’re other people’s—other people’s—
Pei Ming sees an opening.
“Other people’s what, Feng Xin?” he asks carefully.
Feng Xin glares at him, and it looks so similar to how Mu Qing does it that Pei Ming wishes he could laugh.
“I just don’t understand you,” Feng Xin says instead, shaking his head in disbelief, “You could have anyone you want. If you’re not serious, why are you going for him? You know how I feel about him!”
“How do you feel about him?” Pei Ming asks, fiddling with the edge of the laminated menu.
Was he too obvious, asking that? Perhaps he was too obvious. But Feng Xin carries on regardless.
“Fresher’s year, Christmas time,” Feng Xin says, finger jabbing the table as though to emphasise his point, “We were rooming together. You asked me to name one person who you would not hit on, ever. You said I could veto anyone. Just let you know, and you wouldn’t ever try to get with that person. You swore–under the bro code–to never try it on with Mu Qing.”
“Did you forget? Or did you just not care? I’ve never asked you to avoid anyone else. I just wanted you to leave Mu Qing alone!”
Oh god. Pei Ming is terrible with tears. He’s made a fair number of people cry, always by accident, of course, but he’s never dealt particularly well with it. Now is no different. Feng Xin is leaking water everywhere, even though he looks like he’s trying not to. His eyes are betraying him. There’s salt water on the table. He tries to wipe it away, straight from the source, from the eyes, but that seems to just set off his nose, so now there’s snot too, and oh god , Pei Ming was not prepared.
He tries not to panic. He passes a napkin over to Feng Xin, who snatches it out of his hand but nevertheless uses it to wipe his face.
“You don’t understand how good you have it, Pei Ming,” Feng Xin says through the napkin pressed to his face, “You got Mu Qing cooking for you, accepting your gifts, texting you back… You don’t know how good you have it.”
“Does he not…do any of those things for you?” Pei Ming asks tentatively.
“It’s not the fucking same! He—he doesn’t cook for me because he wants to! He cooks because we have a rota! And of course he doesn’t fucking accept my gifts! He thinks everything I give him is out of pity, because he used to be poor, even though we basically work at the same company and get paid the same fucking wage now, he always just insists on paying me back or getting me something of equal value! We don’t text each other, not at all!!”
Feng Xin’s face is still covered with the napkin. Both his hands are pressing the napkin further against his face.
“Do you…do you perhaps think,” Pei Ming licks his lips, “That you don’t text each other, because you live together?”
“I don’t fucking know!” Feng Xin says, and oh, there’s a little sob. Pei Ming freezes again.
Pei Ming leans back into the soft cushion of the booth seat. He watches as Feng Xin lifts his head up from the napkin and his hands. His face is red and the rim of his eyes are pink with fresh tears. He looks wretched.
Pei Ming supposes, that if he had been in love for a third of his life with someone, had managed to somehow negotiate to live with them while still not confessing said love, and was in a relatively stable pseudo-relationship with said person, he’d also be pretty upset if a close friend then started aggressively schmoozing him.
But Pei Ming had only meant well! He was a good friend! An all-round good guy!
“Look,” Pei Ming sighs, “Why don’t you just tell him how you feel?”
“How can I?!” Feng Xin says indignantly, “It was hard enough before, I couldn’t find the right opportunity for ten fucking years. How can I say anything now that he likes you instead?!”
Pei Ming sighs again. He twists in his seat, looking all around the busy restaurant.
They’re sitting in a booth, one of many that are aligned in a row against the restaurant’s wide back wall, in contrast to the smattering of differently sized tables dotted around the middle of the restaurant’s huge open atrium space. Each booth’s seat is back-to-back with the next booth’s seats, and each booth is separated by glass panels stencilled with decorative flower patterns, which act to give individual booths their privacy while not completing obscuring the next booth’s occupants from view.
Logically speaking, if Mu Qing isn’t at one of the tables in the atrium, then he must be in a booth. But it’s hard to see who’s sitting in the booths, because of the way all the booths are parallel with each other and because of the privacy screens.
He’s got to have come, Pei Ming thinks, a little desperately.
Pei Ming gave him the location and told him to arrive early.
Please, gods, he has to have come!
As Pei Ming considers leaving the table to march up and down the booth aisle just to check if Mu Qing is in one, he sees the top of a dark blue bucket hat sneaking up from behind the glass behind Feng Xin.
The hat comes further into view, until there’s a face, with a pair of frames—the kind without glass, more of a fashion statement than anything else—perched atop an elegant nose.
And then that face is looking directly at Pei Ming, cheeks bright red.
Pei Ming breaks into a grin, relief washing over him.
“Feng Xin, my beloved, dearest friend,” Pei Ming yells, grabbing Feng Xin’s hands, snotty napkin and all, “You’ve got this all wrong!”
Feng Xin looks totally confused, hands—and heart—caught between Pei Ming’s palms.
“I’m so sorry that I was trying to hit on Mu Qing. I assure you, I was just trying to make you jealous. You say yourself that it’s been ten years! Why haven’t you confessed yet? Both of you, in fact.”
With absolutely no subtlety, Pei Ming beckons for Mu Qing to go around the glass and come to their booth. For a moment, Mu Qing ducks back under, trying to hide himself, but it’s too late, because, as confused as he is, Feng Xin has already clocked on and looked over his shoulder—to see Mu Qing, in disguise, trying to pretend he’s not there.
“Fuck…”
It’s a soft curse, a little more than a puff of air ejected from Feng Xin’s lips. But it’s enough damning proof to evidence that he’s seen Mu Qing, despite all attempts of the latter to be invisible.
“Come on, Mu Qing! Please come over here! You heard all that, didn’t you?”
Pei Ming calls for him, a little desperately, wanting the tears to go away and the joy to begin. But Mu Qing takes his time.
Ever so slowly, as though he’s hating every single second, Mu Qing crawls out from his hiding place in the next booth and unravels himself enough to stand next to their table.
Now that he can see him properly, Pei Ming admits that it’s a pretty good little amateur disguise he’s got going on. Mu Qing’s bucket hat is large enough for him to tuck the entirety of his long ponytail inside it, and the glasses do a good job of masking his face.
But of course, he must feel very silly, standing there in disguise in front of Pei Ming and probably the love of his life.
“Okay!” Pei Ming says like a battle cry as he hurriedly gets out of his seat.
“In summary, Feng Xin,” he says, because as much as he loves these two, this past week has taught him that they really don’t know how to communicate with each other, “I don’t like Mu Qing in that way. Mu Qing certainly doesn’t like me in that way either. This was all a ruse to make you jealous—but certainly not to make you cry—and Mu Qing definitely feels the same way about you as you do him. You’ve both got that, right?”
Mu Qing is looking down at the table, not saying anything. But his cheeks are so red, it’s impossible that he hasn’t heard what Pei Ming said. (Or what Feng Xin said, this entire time.)
Feng Xin, meanwhile, doesn’t seem to be able to look anywhere else but at Mu Qing.
Pei Ming watches them for a second, wondering if there’s anything else he can physically do to help these two, but then Mu Qing starts to speak, and it’s the tiniest sound, so small you can hardly hear it above the noise of the children babbling and the babies crying and the teenagers cackling.
“I don’t cook for you just because of the rota, dipshit.”
Feng Xin’s entire face softens.
“Mu Qing…”
“I know you like blueberry pancakes the best. You think I go out and buy blueberries especially, out of season, before 9am, just because of the rota? You think I cook breakfast for you on weekends because of some stupid chores?”
“Mu Qing… I…”
“I don’t think everything you give me is charity. But I don’t like being on the receiving end of things all the time. I-I like to give, too.”
Mu Qing’s gaze finally shifts from the table to Feng Xin. The minute their eyes meet, Feng Xin’s face lights up. He breaks into a tearful smile.
“Fuck!” He says, reaching out and grabbing Mu Qing’s hand.
Pei Ming takes it as his cue to leave. He’s extremely happy to have played cupid—delighted, in fact!—but he’d rather not watch as one of his good friends launches forward to do god knows what with another of his good friends.
…Or maybe he would like to watch? But perhaps not this time. This, after all (and if the muffled sounds of half-indignant Mu Qing are anything to go by) would be their first kiss. A sweet, long-awaited reward.
No, they should have that moment to themselves , Pei Ming thinks. Maybe next time.
As he leaves the chaos of the family restaurant behind him, Pei Ming whistles, thinking about what he might eat for dinner that night. Perhaps, he could even call up that other lady who gave him her number today.