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Yanli, as usual, is the first to notice it.
A great many of the students in Song Jiaoshou’s [1] intro to philosophy seminar (a general course needed for graduation, because Cloud Recesses University is like that ) are constantly tired. They are college students, after all. It comes with the territory. But there are a few with an extra edge of exhaustion, bags under their eyes, worry lines on their foreheads, the sort of thing which screamed “parent”. Yanli knows. She sees the signs in the mirror on her own face.
Lan Xichen is the first one she approaches. He’s kind, chooses his words in a measured manner, and always has a lot to add to the class. He also nearly falls asleep at his seat that afternoon. The rest of the class trickles out in twos and threes, some discussing what Song Jiaoshou had been trying to tell them--she’s pretty sure she hears “dude, Confucius had some wack-ass ideas about following rules”, a phrase she doesn’t really feel captures what Song Jiaoshou had been trying to get across—some just eagerly leaving so that their weekends can commence. Xichen just stays at his desk, staring straight ahead, face composed in a fashion she knows comes from his family, but eyes distant, as if his soul is elsewhere. She’s noticed that he’s tired a lot these days. He’s always put together immaculately, with clean clothes and neat hair, and his homework is always done, but there’s something on the periphery. An exhaustion.
“Are you okay?” she asks softly.
He blinks and turns towards her, too smoothly to be natural.
“I’m fine,” he responds, smiling slightly. “Just a bit tired. Lan Zhan—Lan Wangji, my little brother, you know—had a lot of homework due today and I stayed up late last night to help him.”
She doesn’t question why he did and one of their parents didn’t. Yanli has been on homework-helping duty with one or both of her brothers since grade school. She’d been the one to teach Wei Wuxian to read, given their mother had no interest and their father had been off on business. It was natural to her that elder siblings helped the younger ones out.
“Would you like to get some tea?” she offers. She can take the time. If things run late, she can always text Jiang Cheng and remind him that there’s extra soup in the fridge—lotus and rib soup, his and Wei Wuxian’s favorite, one of the few things that they agree on. “You can tell me about it.”
“I wouldn’t want to be a burden,” he replies.
“I have two younger brothers,” she says, smiling gently. “One of whom had a great deal of homework of his own last night, which I also helped with.” I might have some idea of what you’re going through.
That gets his attention. He perks up.
“There’s a Starbucks near here,” he offers, standing. “Otherwise there’s the campus cafe. It’s a bit more of a walk, but better.”
The two end up with a pair of steaming mugs of genmaicha[2] from the campus cafe, sitting on a bench near the main quad. He tells her about his little brother, whom he loves to death and has basically helped raise since they were little.
“He’s a good kid,” Xichen comments. “He’s never really been much trouble, has great manners, and behaves at concerts. Even when he was little, all you had to do was ask him to be quiet and he’d listen!”
Yanli smiles. Her brothers aren’t like that. She doesn’t know how many events have involved her sitting between A-Cheng and A-Xian to avoid them talking too loudly. And acting as a physical barrier so they would stop trying to give each other wedgies.
“Enough about me,” Xichen says after several minutes of talking about his younger brother, painting a picture of a young man he worked hard to teach but was incredibly proud of. “What about your brothers?”
So she tells him about her brothers. He’s amused, thankfully, rather than judgmental that she can’t get them to behave like his brother does. It’s oddly cathartic to just talk to someone. It’s not venting per se . Yanli adores her little brothers, trouble and all. If she had her way, they’d spend their lives together, the three of them. Still, she feels she’s unloading something, a weight she hadn’t realized she was carrying. Xichen is a good listener. For the most part, he doesn’t say much, just lets her talk. She ends up talking about a lot more than that week. Instead, she fills the space with anecdotes about her brothers’ wildest shenanigans.
“...So anyway, Wang Lingjiao got her toe reattached, A-Xian and A-Cheng’s records are going to be expunged once they turn 18, and no one could swim in the pool for the rest of the summer, thanks to the snapping turtles.”
“Oh no! That’s horrible.” Xichen is laughing into his tea.
“But on the bright side, no one includes those trespassing Wens. Honestly, I think Mom was secretly glad she lent A-Cheng that whip.”
Xichen keeps laughing. Yanli’s relieved that he doesn’t run screaming in the other direction. The week after her brothers’ arrests, Jin Zixuan had moved to sit as far away from her as possible in their intro to economics summer course. She'd wondered if he’d done so because he heard the story from his mom, who’d probably heard it from her mom. Before she can dwell on it too much, however, Xichen’s phone buzzes. He looks down at it and his eyes widen.
“Is it really that late?” he exclaims.
“What is it?”
“Uncle just sent me a calendar alert.” He holds his phone up apologetically, letting Yanli peer at the textbox obscuring part of his lockscreen (which appears to be someone’s finger and a blurry photograph of the afternoon sky):
Lan Qiren is inviting you to an event: Dinner with your beloved uncle and younger brother. Location: My house. Time: Now. Details: We shall eat tofu and vegetables. The aforementioned tofu and vegetables are currently getting cold. Wangji will not eat cold vegetables. It would be discourteous to eat without you. Be home in 15 minutes or I shall be obliged to prepare your brother plain noodles with butter at 10 pm again.
“Oh, you should get home,” agrees Yanli. “Meals with family are very important.” She thinks of her own brothers, waiting for her cooking. She has to get back to them as well.
“Thank you, Jiang Yanli,” says Xichen warmly. “I enjoyed this time with you.”
“As did I,” she replies. They part at the edge of campus as the sun slips below the trees, Xichen heading towards his uncle’s house at the edge of Cloud Recesses University and Yanli back to her parents’ home. She has to take two buses and walk half a mile to get there. Her parents have already eaten and gone out to some event or other. Jiang Cheng is just about to put some of the leftovers she’d previously made into the microwave when she walks in. She shoos him out of the kitchen and quickly sets about starting dinner instead. Hearing the clattering of dishes brings Wei Wuxian out of his room as well. He gives Yanli a huge hug and immediately sets to chattering about his day, punctuated occasionally by his brother’s sharp commentary. Her ears perk up when Jiang Cheng mentions, half-casually, that A-Xian had nearly gotten into a fight with another boy in his class.
“Yeah,” Wei Wuxian starts, sounding not at all sorry. “I wanted to have lunch on the roof.”
Yanli pauses. Lunch on the roof? She decides to let it go. Her brother’s desires are not always easily understood.
“And then Lan Wangji tried to stop me,” he adds.
“By also climbing on the roof,” chimes in Jiang Cheng. “To yell at him to get off the roof.”
“But I had to do something!”
“You both looked so stupid.”
Lan Wangji? The same one she’d been hearing about all afternoon? What a small world it is. Then her brain catches up to the rest of the context.
“You almost fought another boy on the roof?” she exclaims.
“Exactly! I told you she’d be worried!” Jiang Cheng shouts. “You could have fallen off! You could have broken your neck! You could have landed on me -"
“It’s not a big deal! The argument was mostly verbal anyway -”
“YOU HIT HIM WITH A POOL NOODLE!”
“- Just a bop, really -”
“Where did you even get a pool noodle?” demands Yanli. This “almost fight” is beginning to sound a lot like an actual fight. On a roof.
“The pool, obviously!”
Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes. “Anyways, they both have detention for a week.”
“Because he was hitting me with a pool noodle right back!”
Yanli doesn’t comment, just shakes her head as she continues cutting the lotus roots and hopes that Xichen doesn’t punish his brother too harshly.
Lan Xichen, thankfully, does not hold Yanli’s brother’s actions against her. Instead, he seems to find their siblings’ feud amusing.
When they meet again the next week, both spend a few minutes laughing together over it. The week after, he invites her over to his apartment to bake. They still mostly talk about their siblings, both in a vacuum and in the context of their newfound rivalry.
“I’ve heard Lan Zhan complain more about Wei Wuxian this week than I’ve ever heard him complain about anything. Ever,” Xichen comments as he whisks custard together. The two have decided to make some vegan custard buns, enough that they can share with their siblings. In practice, that means she’s going to take most of them. Lan Wangji apparently doesn’t really like sweets. “And I remember when he was a toddler!”
Yanli laughs. “A-Xian talks about your brother a lot as well. Just as a warning, he’s decided he’s going to get your brother to loosen up if it kills him.”
Xichen smiles wryly in response. “I look forward to seeing him try.” From another’s mouth, that would’ve sounded like a challenge. From Xichen, it sounds like he’s sincere.
They part with warm custard buns and the unspoken promise to meet again the next week. However, the next Wednesday, they find their plans somewhat altered when Nie Mingjue shows up to class halfway through it.
And shows up with a literal BANG, the door flying open and smacking against the wall hard enough to make Yanli jump. Nie Mingjue is dressed in jeans and a Qinghe Community Theater T-Shirt two sizes too small, but he looks like he just came from lacrosse practice, panting for air and dripping with sweat.
“My apologies, Song Jiaoshou,” he says quickly. He tries to close the door behind him slowly and quietly, but instead it gives a very loud, slow creeeeeeaaaaaaak , and doesn't quite latch, swinging open again. The whole class has fallen silent, watching him. Nie Mingjue is never late despite his very busy life, which based on his comments appears to include running a sporting goods store. Or company? Or maybe he just works there?
Song Jiaoshou sighs from his lectern. “I’m sure you had a good reason, Mingjue. And please, like I keep saying, just call me Song Lan. I’m not a professor, I’m just a TA.”
“Of course, Song Jiaoshou,” says Nie Mingjue, taking his seat.
Song Jiaoshou shakes his head, but goes on with the lesson without mentioning anything, until the end of class.
“Your paper is due Sunday at midnight. Check your syllabus for your readings. And check your syllabus for the submission details. And just - you know, check your syllabus in general. And if you have any questions that CANNOT be answered by the syllabus, email me or come to my office hours!” Song Jiaoshou shouts at the students’ retreating backs, none of whom will ever come to his office hours. Song Jiaoshou is kind of scary. But instead of leaving, Yanli sees Nie Mingjue head to the lectern as she slides her books into her bag. She gets closer and hears him speaking.
“My brother’s in a play right now, you see,” he explains. “I couldn’t miss it. He’s super proud of it. He’s the only high schooler in the troupe.”
“Oh?” Song Jiaoshou asks. “What role is he playing?”
“Art director,” Nie Mingjue replies. “At least, that’s what he calls it. Costumes, staging, that sort of thing.” He waves a hand to indicate that he doesn’t understand at all . “He wanted someone there just for him, not for the actors.”
“I see.” Song Jiaoshou nods along. “Your parents must be quite pleased with him.”
Nie Mingjue sighs. “We don’t have parents. Just him and me.”
“I’m very sorry to hear that,” says Song Jiaoshou. “Next time your brother is in a play, try to email me before class if you’re not looking to get marked absent or late, and we’ll see if we can work something out. Come to my office hours and we can discuss what you missed.” Apparently he is not sorry enough to remind Mingjue of his duties as a student.
“Of course, Song Jiaoshou,” says Nie Mingjue, who is clearly lying.
Xichen happens to be passing by her at that moment. He seems to like lingering near where Nie Mingjue is, Yanli has noticed. He catches her eye, waits for her nod, then pulls Nie Mingjue aside after he finishes speaking to their professor. She doesn’t hear how he phrases the request, but when Mingjue leaves class with Yanli and Xichen that Friday, falling into step with the two and declaring, “I hear this is the support group for elder siblings who are raising their younger brothers,” she knows how he must have answered.
Nie Mingjue, who always seems so confident and comfortable, seems a bit out of his depth when they reach Xichen’s apartment.
“So what do we do?” he asks. “Do you want me to get some beer?”
“I’m in a dry dorm,” replies Xichen.
Mingjue seems to relax a fraction. “Oh, good. I hadn’t brought any. My team usually acts like it’s a requirement at social events.” He glances at Yanli, who’s getting flour out. “Are you baking?”
“Yes,” she replies. “Any requests?”
He considers. “Huaisang likes anything with chocolate.”
“Chocolate chip cookies it is, then,” she decides, and glides over to the fridge to find whatever Xichen substitutes for butter.
Yanli and Xichen let him talk the most this week, since he’s new. As it turns out, as nice as it is for Yanli and Xichen to speak to one another about their lives, Mingjue needs it on a whole other level. He’s wound more tightly than they are and handles his brother with even less adult supervision than either of them get. At least Yanli has parents, albeit often absent and all manner of abusive when present, and Xichen has his uncle, who might have his head tucked far too deeply into rulebooks to provide either Xichen or his brother with true affection but at least makes an effort.
“So you’re dealing with him by yourself?” Yanli asks.
“Pretty much. I’ve got a cousin who checks up from time to time. I also had a babysitter helping out for a while, but…” he trails off and glares at the chocolate he’s chopping up (Xichen had no chips, but at least had a bar of dark chocolate in the cupboard), slicing the knife down harder than needed. He doesn’t elaborate, just goes back to rambling about Nie Huaisang. It’s clear immediately that he loves his younger brother with his whole heart, but doesn’t always relate to him.
“And I’d been worrying about him at school, too,” he adds. “He’s a bit of a crybaby, you see, and high schoolers can be real dicks.” Yanli and Xichen nod along. “There’s this kid named Jin Zixun who kept trying to steal his lunch money.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’d spoken to the school, but they won’t do anything. So I suggested he take up boxing to learn some self defense, but he refused.”
“I wish my little brothers would refuse something like that,” Yanli sighs, “A-Xian’s decided that he has to take archery lessons, of all things, and I just know that will end with someone looking like a pincushion.”
Nie Mingjue dumps the chocolate flakes into the dough, still lost in his own thoughts. “If that kid this week hadn’t stepped in and beat up Jin Zixun, I would’ve had to step in myself and write to Jin Guangshan.”
“Someone beat up Jin Zixun?” Xichen asks, eyes widening a fraction.
“Yes,” Mingjue replies. “Kid called Wei Wuxian.”
Xichen nearly drops the spoon he’d been using to stir in the chocolate, though he quickly recovers. “ Who ?”
“What, you know the kid?”
“He’s my brother,” explains Yanli. “He didn’t tell me about this, though. Just that he managed not to get into trouble this week.” Both her brothers are liars; A-Cheng must have known and covered for him.
Mingjue considers for a moment before he grins.
“Well, pass my thanks on to your brother, then,” he says, reaching around Xichen with a spare spoon to grab some cookie dough. A moment later, he makes a face. “What is this?”
“Vegan cookie dough,” Xichen replies. “For Lan Zhan and myself. Yanli and I baked some vegan custard buns last week, which went over alright.”
Mingjue slowly puts the spoon down. “Vegan, eh? I don’t think I could handle it.”
“It’s very healthy,” Xichen quickly says.
“Still couldn’t handle it.”
“Are you sure? You’d be surprised! Yanli can make anything taste good.”
“So you’re agreeing that it normally tastes bad?” Mingjue asks, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
“No, no, just that it’ll taste normal to you!”
A spirited conversation about the benefits of meat versus vegan food ensues, continuing on intermittently through the rest of the afternoon. When Yanli leaves, they’re still talking, sitting across from each other, Mingjue leaning in and Xichen with a bit of pink in his cheeks.
The three keep meeting after that, though Yanli gets the sense that Xichen and Mingjue are meeting without her as well. They seem to be growing closer, and while they’re both too polite to make her into too much of a third wheel, she still starts to feel left out at times.
Thankfully, just before the semester ends, their club gains a fourth member.
Wen Qing is quiet in class and makes it very clear that she’s only here to fulfill a requirement. She’d skipped a few grades and is clearly the class’ youngest member. Yanli imagines that must feel quite isolating. Song Jiaoshou makes a valiant effort to reach her despite her disinterest, and during the unit on Qi she actually was enthusiastic. However, for the most part, she seems disengaged. Yanli had no idea that she’d noticed that the three were leaving together until one afternoon at the start of class, when the other young woman pulls her aside.
“Can I join you guys?” she asks. “I heard you talking about raising your brothers basically on your own. I’ve got a little brother, A-Ning, whom I’m looking after.” She lets her breath out. “Normally I wouldn’t ask, but…it’s been one hell of a week.”
“You’re welcome to join us,” Yanli replies serenely. “Besides, we have pastries!” For the rest of the class, she has a huge smile on her face.
Wen Qing joins them afterwards. For the most part, she seems out of place, not really speaking up much and just watching as Yanli separates out ingredients. She seems almost wary as she listens to the trio chatter about their brothers—this week Xichen’s brother got some sort of big recognition for a presentation he did, while Yanli’s brothers and Mingjue’s brother all got a lunch detention together—as they prepare everything, but she doesn’t seem like she wants to leave, either.
“So, Wen Qing,” Xichen finally speaks up after this week’s treats (two pans of brownies, one vegan and one not, and if Yanli had been doubting that Mingjue and Xichen were together in some sense, finding actual eggs and butter in Xichen’s fridge when he’s as devoted to veganism as ever squashed any of those doubts) are in the oven. “What’s your younger sibling like?”
She glances towards the floor. “His name is Wen Ning,” she says. “He’s very shy, and our extended family sucks.”
Xichen nods, holding his tongue.
“The Wens? I’ve heard of them,” Mingjue speaks up. Xichen tries to give him a warning glance, but Mingjue plows ahead. “They do suck.”
Yanli is too polite to nod along, although she privately agrees. They should at least stay out of her pool. Wen Qing shrugs and nods. Yanli had never seen her or anyone young enough to be her brother at her pool, so she supposes that they’re both okay.
“I’m hoping I can get further away from them in med school,” Wen Qing continues. “It’s already easier now that I’m in college. A-Ning and I just try to avoid them. One less thing to worry about.”
“Yeah.” Mingjue scrapes another spoonful of brownie batter up. He’s started at least tolerating the taste of the vegan alternative.
“That’s not healthy for you,” Wen Qing comments. “Risk of salmonella.”
“Not with vegan dough!” Xichen replies with a little smile. “Another advantage of a vegan diet.”
“It’s still a risk of E-Coli if you don’t toast the flour beforehand!” Wen Qing begins, but Yanli shakes her head at her. Whatever Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue have going on, arguing about veganism is part of it, and Wen Qing certainly wouldn’t want to get in the middle of that .
Mingjue rolls his eyes and pointedly takes a spoonful of the non-vegan batter next. As the brownies bake, Wen Qing starts to open up about her little brother a bit more. Like Mingjue, she is basically alone in raising him. He’s still in middle school, which means she worries about him. The other three all nod along sympathetically as she tells them. As awful as high schoolers can be (one has only to consider Jin Zixun), middle schoolers are generally worse.
“Though he made a friend recently,” she adds. “A high schooler’s been nice to him. Apparently last week, he let A-Ning borrow his archery equipment for practice after school when he forgot his.”
Xichen and Mingjue both whip their heads around to look at Yanli. She shrugs. She hasn’t heard about this particular act of kindness from Wei Wuxian. He doesn’t tend to keep score that way.
“What?” Wen Qing looked over.
“What was the kid’s name?” asked Mingjue. “Did Wen Ning say?”
She stopped for a moment. “Umm…last name was Wei I think? I forget his--why are you laughing?”
Indeed, Mingjue had burst into hysterical laughter. Xichen and Yanli are similarly giggling.
“What’s going on?” demands Wen Qing, crossing her arms and scowling. For a moment, Yanli is reminded of A-Cheng.
“That’s one of Yanli’s brothers!” Xichen, who is able to regain his composure fastest, explains. “Wei Wuxian. He’s in a rivalry with my younger brother and befriended Mingjue’s younger brother. It seems we’re walking parallel paths to our younger brothers.”
Wen Qing smiles then, just for a moment, before returning to her former expression. “Well. Small world. Guess I’ll have to come back, then.”
Wen Qing returns the next week, and the week after as well. The little get-togethers feel like a part of each of their schedules, same as school or work or taking care of younger siblings. No matter how busy they are, the four gather in Xichen’s apartment to bake and share stories of their brothers. It’s not a typical bonding experience for four college-age adults, but then again none of them are typical college-age adults either.