Work Text:
“Think! For once, Nie Huaisang, stop and think!”
Huaisang lowers his fan and glares at Meng Yao.
“San-ge,” he says calmly, “I can’t stop thinking.” He resumes packing. “There’s something wrong with da-ge, and if you’re not going to do something about it, I will.”
He ignores Meng Yao’s pacing and checks the contents of his bag. He’s got clothes, his portable painting set, the ‘secret’ phone A-Cheng bought him so they could text and not alarm their families with their data usage, the ceramic dog A-Cheng gave them when they were kids, the fighting fans da-ge had given him for his last birthday, a photo of his parents, and—
“I’m going with you.”
Huaisang peers at Meng Yao.
“You’ll tell da-ge, which defeats the whole purpose of sneaking out.”
“I won’t,” Meng Yao says, “but I am going to tell Xichen-ge. He’ll keep the secret if I ask him to.” Meng Yao fidgets with the hem of his oversized hoodie, one stolen from Mingjue. “Wen Qing reckons he’ll be in the hospital for a week, maybe longer. If I drive, we can get to the mountain in two days. That should give us time to convince Baoshan Sanren to help us.”
Huaisang sits on his bed. “And if it takes longer?”
Meng Yao shrugs, aiming for nonchalance, but he just looks lost.
Huaisang studies him. It could be an act. Not too long ago, he suspected Meng Yao was behind da-ge’s qi deviations, but now he’s relatively confident it’s simply the Nie Curse at work. He can think of no alternative.
“We should tell Zonghui,” Meng Yao says.
Huaisang rubs his eyes. Meng Yao is right.
“No one else,” he says. “Not yet.”
Meng Yao gives him an appraising look. “You haven’t told young Master Jiang?”
“A-Cheng?” Huaisang scoffs. “If I told A-Cheng, he’d fly here and tie me to the bed.”
Meng Yao cocks an eyebrow, and Huaisang’s face burns.
“Not like that,” he says hastily. Not yet, a treacherous little voice says in the back of his mind. “He knows about da-ge and will assume that my silence this week is because I’m stuck at the hospital. He—“
“He is coming with you because you’re an idiot.”
Meng Yao and Huaisang turn to the door and find a scowling Jiang Cheng leaning against the frame. Huaisang has a moment to clock the feigned surprise in Meng Yao’s expression — traitorous jerk! — before Jiang Cheng stalks into the room and tosses his bag onto the bed beside Huaisang’s.
“I’ve got permission to be in Qinghe for a week,” he says.
“But how—“
“Come on, Huaisang. I’m not stupid. You think I wouldn’t move mountains if it were Jiejie lying in a hospital bed?” His expression softens and he strokes Huaisang’s cheek. “Plus, Yao-ge texted me last night.”
“You’re both terrible, and I hate you,” Huaisang says as he allows Jiang Cheng to pull him into a hug.
“We know, A-Sang,” Meng Yao says. “I’ll pack and meet you downstairs.”