Chapter Text
Róng'ér watches with disbelief as her older sister once again misinterprets Bái-gē’s words and turns his invitation of a date for two to the movies that night into an invitation for their friend group to go out to the movies. Granted, “Would you like to go to the movies tonight?” is a pretty ambiguous statement on its own. Still, she shares a look with her boyfriend Jìn'ér, both of them exasperated over the other two’s antics.
Róng'ér has to hand it to Bái-gē, though. He takes the idea with grace and pivots well mid-conversation. Ā-jiě and Bái-gē walk back to the small group, and she smiles, addressing them all. “So, do we want to do the movies tonight? Maybe the horror film Píng'ér has been going on about recently?”
“It’s either that or watch the animated thing for kids that Nóng Nóng seems to be interested in,” Píng'ér teases as Bái-gē sits next to him, setting his cane between his leg and the arm of the bench.
“Wén Píng!” Róng'ér scolds her longtime friend. “All I said was that, from a design standpoint, the animation style—”
“—style is completely different from anything mainstream today,” Yuán'ér finishes for her. “Píng'ér is right, though,” she goes on to say, agreeing with her boyfriend. “The only people who are interested in that movie are you and your younger brother.”
Well, that’s not fair. Guān-gē'ér and her just happen to have excellent taste in pop culture. Especially in films. (Though, considering the nine-year age gap between them, this may not be the most solid defense.)
Róng'ér turns to her other friend, Xiǎo Xiāng, for support, but Xiǎo Xiāng just gives her an apologetic smile. “Xiǎo Xiāng!” Róng'ér wails, betrayed.
“Horror film it is,” Jiā-gē says, effectively ending the conversation. Róng'ér and Ru'ér share a commiserating look, the only two of the group to actively dislike horror movies.
“It’s alright,” Jìn'ér teases gently, “you can hide behind me during the scary parts.”
“What about me?” Ru'ér asks, eyes wide.
“You can hide behind me, Dà-gē,” Bái-gē jokes to his younger cousin.
“Great,” he deadpans back, “I feel so safe now.”
Yuán'ér stifles a laugh behind her hand; the rest of the group has no such compulsion, laughing openly at the mini family drama unfolding.
“See if I ever buy you lunch again, brat,” Bái-gē says, shaking his cane at his cousin.
“Oh no! Whatever shall I, Guō Ruì, do about this trying issue?” He takes a breath. “I suppose,” he says gravely, “I will just have to buy my own lunch.” He glances over at his cousin and laughs when Bái-gē sticks out his tongue.
“Alright, alright,” Xuān-jiě says, speaking for the first time since throwing the idea of a night at the movies out to the group. “Now, what time do we want to go see it?”
“Finally! It took you forever to get here,” Yuán-jiě jokes as the Fù sisters walk into the lobby of the theater. Xiāngxiāng looks over from her conversation with Ru'ér, the two of them having come together after work to the theater since they work in the same building. She waves at them before continuing her conversation. Dà-gē rolls in behind them, his expression pinched despite him trying to mask it. At the sight of that look, Yuán-jiě loses her joviality. “Is everything okay,” she asks as he rolls up next to her.
“It’s alright,” he reassures, “the night ended up colder than I was expecting, and the ol’ injury decided it was better for me to roll than walk. I took my pain meds before we left, though, so they should be kicking in soon.”
Yuán-jiě nods knowingly, and sets her hand on his shoulder gently. Both she and Dà-gē hated the seasonal cold because of how it always seemed to make their old injuries ache more than ever. He smiles up at her, the corners of his eyes tight. She nods again, this time just a slight one of understanding, and her hand falls away from his shoulder.
Èr-gē and Sì-gē walk in shortly after and apologize for being late. “The traffic was worse than normal at this time,” Sì-gē says to the group, accepting the hug and kiss on the cheek in greeting from Xiāngxiāng, keeping his arm around her waist after she lets go.
“Is everyone here now?” Sān-gē asks, pulling the small stack of tickets from his jacket. Without waiting for a response, he starts taking a head count, an excited smile appearing when the count revealed the entire group was there. “Awesome! We can grab our seats now.” He turned to the left and headed for Theater Thirteen; the very end of the hall is where the movie was showing.
“Of course it’s at the end of the hall,” Ru'ér mutters, resigned already to his fate.
Sān-gē hands out the tickets, and the group lines up at the ticket stand. Yuán-jiě takes his free hand, and he hands their tickets over to the theater employee. Èr-gē, Sì-gē, and Xiāngxiāng clump together as she excitedly talks about the director. Ru'ér and Róng-mèi end up at the end of the line, and he bumps her arm with his softly. “Lucky number thirteen, I guess.” He hands his ticket over to the theater employee reluctantly.
“Jìn'ér and Píng'ér owe us so hard,” Róng-mèi says, agreeing, doing the same after he passes the stanchions. She sounds as excited as he feels. They both let out a sigh and pick up their pace a bit to catch up with the others who were already around the corner.
“That movie was so good,” Píng'ér cries, throwing one of his hands in the air to emphasize his opinion.
Yuán'ér giggles at her boyfriend’s antics. “I agree. The dialogue was masterfully written.”
“The practical effects were nice,” offers Ru'ér, looking slightly green. “Very, uhm, believable.”
“You say that as if you weren’t hiding behind Róng'ér the entire time,” Xuān-jiě teases, walking next to Bái-gē. He looked at her as if she hung the stars.
Upon hearing her comment, though, he looks over his shoulder at his cousin. “Yeah! I thought you were going to hide behind me. Truly, the younger members of this family betray me left and right,” Bái-gē sighs dramatically, taking a hand off one of the wheels to press it dramatically to his forehead.
Ru'ér rolls his eyes, making sure his cousin can see it clearly. “That’s not fair. Zhāng-dìdì hasn’t threatened you since April! That’s, like, six months or something.”
“Betrayal!” Bái-gē wails, laughing almost before he finishes the word.
“There, there,” Ā-jiě says, patting his shoulder. The twitch of her lips to hide the smile threatening to break out on her face betrays her amusement.
“I thought the costumes were good,” Róng'ér says, her tone more defensive than necessary. She was still tense throughout her entire body from the film. “The score definitely was perfect for how eerie the film was.”
She stumbles slightly as Jìn'ér comes up and hugs her from behind, but regains her balance quickly. It always amazed people who didn’t know them just how soft and sweet of a boyfriend that Jìn'ér is. “What I thought was most interesting about the film was how it all depended on choice. Everything that happened in the film could have been avoided if the main guy told his wife-to-be the truth. Even his death at the end was a choice that she didn’t need to make. I mean, she did,” the group nods emphatically, “but it was all her husband’s lack of saying anything that led to his demise.”
Xiǎo Xiāng agrees, finishing off the last of her soda. “I thought the older brother didn’t deserve to die; especially not at the hands of that horrible woman he had married. He was the only one to tell the girl the truth, even if it was too late.” She opens her mouth like she wanted to say more, but closes it and shakes her head.
“Xiǎo Xiāng,” Róng'ér says, seeing her friend’s hesitance, “what else did you want to say?”
“I just, oh this is so embarrassing,” Xiǎo Xiāng says, pulling on Jiā-gē’s arm so that it hid her face. “I just thought that it was romantic the way that he said she didn’t deserve to die because she was Good, and then he ended up dying for her!”
To her surprise, Yuán'ér agrees instantly. “He definitely would not have even talked to her if they had met before she and his brother did. He seems like someone who would see her as too good for himself and use his family history and insecurities as a blanket for that. He would push her away without finding out if she would love him the way he probably deserved to be.”
The entire group goes silent, no one missing the double meaning to her words. It was no secret that Bái-gē’s relationship with his family was not the greatest, and nobody knew better than the Xu’s and Róng'ér just how much he saw Xuān-jiě as better than him, as someone who deserves better than someone like him.
Despite everyone trying not to look at Xuān-jiě and Bái-gē, they still found their eyes drawn to the two before flicking away quickly. The silence carried, filling the space between everyone.
Ru'ér is the first to break it, feeling sorry for his cousin for being put on the spot in such a way. “I, uh, I don’t know about the rest of you guys,” he starts awkwardly, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jacket, “but I think I could go for some ice cream now?” Due to his nerves, his statement ended up much more like a question.
Everyone else takes pity on Ru'ér and agrees, the previous awkward moment forgotten by everyone but him and his cousin. After the group decided on an ice cream parlor, Róng-mèi pulled her sister into conversation about what she would do if she was in that situation. Luckily enough, the ice cream parlor was within the mall complex, so it would only take a few minutes to get there. Ru'ér made eye contact with Dà-gē, a silent request for him to hold back behind the group. He agrees.
“So,” Dà-gē starts, pulling up next to Ru'ér and pushing off, following the group. “What’s up?”
Ru'ér almost laughed at his cousin’s false casualness. “You heard what Yuán-jiě said. Are you going to do anything about it?”
“I am doing it, shut up.” The older of the two flushed a light pink and refused to look at Ru'ér.
“Right,” he agrees, tone full of disbelief. “I can totally tell by how you,” he pretends to look at his hand as if there were notes written on it, “don’t do anything about your crush on Xuān-jiě.”
“If I were a worse person, I would run over your foot,” Dà-gē says, a quick movement of his wrist swinging him closer to Ru'ér.
His, knowing even if Dà-gē was a worse person, if he was anything like his father or younger half-brother, he still wouldn’t. He cares too much, and too greatly, to ever do that. “I’m sure you would. Are you ever going to say something to her?”
“I, uh,” Dà-gē says, looking behind Ru'ér with panic painted all over his expression, “I don’t think I have to. You did it for me.”
Ru'ér winces, and turns around to see the Fù sisters standing behind him. “When, when, did you two get here? I could’ve sworn you were ahead of us…” He trails off at the mischievous look in Róng-mèi’s eyes.
She grabs his arm and gently pushes her sister forward before pulling him away. She calls out to her sister and his cousin a “Have fun, kids!” and then Ru'ér finds himself whisked back to the group. Róng-mèi drags him into the conversation, and he complies, but curiosity still prickles in the back of his mind.
“I’m just saying!” He hears Xiāngxiāng exclaim as he and Róng-mèi catch up to everyone else.
“I don’t know why,” Èr-gē says slowly, looking at his cousin, “but I feel like I’ve been double-crossed.”
Sān-gē and Yuán-jiě both look away from him, eyes wide and innocent. “I have no idea why you’re looking at me, Jìn'ér. I didn’t tell her to say that.”
Xiāngxiāng looks at him, eyebrows drawn. The disapproval radiates off her.
“What’s going on,” Ru'ér asks Sì-gē quietly once he and Róng-mèi rejoin the group.
“Eh,” the older man says, shrugging slightly, “they’re just arguing about ice cream flavors, I think. Xiǎo Xiāng has some, let’s call them, strong opinions. And Jìn'ér thought that he had more people in his corner than he does.”
“Oh,” Ru'ér says, for lack of better words.
Róng-mèi seems to know what the argument is about, though. “Okay, but listen, he’s not wrong. Mint chocolate is one of the ice creams ever.”
“Nóng Nóng,” Sān-gē looks back at her, “I love you, but that is literally the worst opinion you’ve ever held.”
Xiāngxiāng turns her attention to himself, dragging him into the conversation. “What about you, Ru'ér? What do you think the best flavor of ice cream is?”
“No,” Èr-gē cuts in before he can answer, “that’s not the true question.” Everyone except Róng-mèi roll their eyes. “The true question is whether or not mint chocolate is a valid flavor.”
Ru'ér looks around the group, swallowing nervously. “I wouldn’t know,” he says looking at Èr-gē, “I’ve never had it.”
“Well, we can fix that right now,” he replies. “The other two can catch up when they’re done being lovesick fools.”
“If that’s what we’re waiting on,” Yuán-jiě flicks her ponytail over her shoulder, “then we might as well just stand here until we die.”
There’s a pause as everyone contemplates her statement, and then a chorus of agreements, and they walk to the ice cream parlor. Once there, they split into two groups. Èr-gē, Sān-gē, and Yuán-jiě go up to order the ice cream. The whole group has been friends long enough that they know everyone’s favorites. Except for Ru'ér, who is apparently going to be trying mint chocolate tonight due to his earlier confession. The three of them also are dexterous enough to hold nine orders between them. The others—Róng-mèi, Xiāngxiāng, Sì-gē, and himself—get busy pushing two tables together so that everyone can eat together. He and Xiāngxiāng cringe a little at the sound of metal against tile, but the two people working don’t do more than give them courtesy glances before focusing back on the orders. Personally, Ru'ér thinks it’s lucky that they’re the only ones who are in the parlor. He hates it when people shoot him dirty looks when a chair or door makes a noise he didn’t know it was going to make.
The four of them drag chairs over, and settle into them, waiting for the other three to come with the orders. Ru'ér takes that moment to act on his curiosity. Looking across at Róng-mèi, he says, “You could have told me that that’s what you were going to do, you know.”
She smiles back prettily at him, batting her eyes innocently. “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re referring to.”
Right. He gives her a flat look. “Oh, so you and your sister just happened to accidentally stumble across us mid-conversation about her?” He leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair absently. “We could’ve worked together. You could’ve looped me in.”
“Ah, but I know you,” she counters pointing a finger at him, “and you would’ve wimped out on me!”
“You don’t know that,” Ru'ér starts to protest, but Róng-mèi cuts him off.
“You care about your cousin’s happiness, and it’s something that we all respect and admire, especially me and Ā-jiě. As a result, though, you also keep his secrets well. You would’ve talked about something else, knowing I would appear with my sister. Not because you don’t want him to be happy, but because you don’t want him to feel embarrassed. It’s honorable, but would’ve worked against me if I clued you in.” Her voice is soft, even as she cut to the core of his and his cousin’s relationship.
He looks next to him to Sì-gē for help, expecting the elder to back him up or something. To his dismay, though, Sì-gē says, “I have known you for some time now, and Róng’ér is right. You would have one-hundred percent failed to follow through on the plan.”
Xiāngxiāng looks at Róng-mèi with something like wonder in her eyes. “You terrify me, Nóng Nóng.” Róng-mèi just smiles, taking it for the compliment that it was.
They can hear the workers listing off their orders, and even through his sulking, Ru'ér did perk up a bit. The bells on the door jingle, but he nor Sì-gē bother to turn around. Xiāngxiāng watches the other three, looking ready to jump in if they need any help.
“And anyway,” Róng'ér says, steering the conversation back to the original topic, her voice smug, “my plan worked out.” She looks like the cat that got the cream as her boyfriend, Yuán'ér, and Píng'ér set down the nine orders. Everyone looks to the door, where Xuān-jiě and Bái-gē had just come in.
“Well, they’ve clearly worked out their issues,” Píng'ér comments dryly, watching the two of them for a moment before helping his girlfriend to hand out the desserts.
The two of them reach the tables and take the remaining two spots left after Jìn'ér, Yuán'ér, and Píng'ér sit down. Bái-gē takes Ā-jiě’s hand, holding it gently in his, and sets their hands on the table for everyone to see. “Okay, alright, get it over with already.” He sighs, preparing for the onslaught of teasing that was sure to come.
“We’re really happy for you,” Róng'ér says, her voice a special kind of soft that she normally only uses with her sister and Jìn'ér. She knows, almost better than anyone, how much this was a long time coming. And if the joy radiating off of Ā-jiě wasn’t enough for her to be happy for them, the way that both of their eyes sparkled would’ve made it so.
The rest of the table agree fervently, congratulating the new couple on figuring out their feelings.
It isn’t long before Yuán'ér pipes up with, “God, it took you long enough, though. Literally, it’s been eighty-four years.”
“Ooh, burn,” Píng'ér teases as he finishes handing out spoons.
“Alright,” Jìn'ér says authoritatively, “it’s time.”
Everyone’s eyes turn to Ru'ér. He blinks, confused for a moment, before his memory kicks in. “Alright,” he says as he digs into the bowl of mint chocolate. “Thank you all for being here to witness what is obviously incredibly important history in the making.”
The whole group holds their breath as he sticks the spoon in his mouth and experiences mint chocolate ice cream for the first time. He closes his eyes, and soon a furrow forms in his brows. They can see his jaw working as he chews. Jìn'ér looks especially anxious for the results. Róng'ér knows that the earlier betrayal of Xiǎo Xiāng was like a knife in the back to him.
(And that he was also probably feeling guilty about the amount of times she had come over to theirs and had been forced to eat ice cream she didn’t like as much as she said she did. Which Róng'ér would talk to him about tonight after they got back to their apartment because Xiǎo Xiāng was her own person and could’ve said no any time she wanted to.)
Ru'ér’s eyes open. The furrow leaves his brow.
“Well?” Someone asks. Róng'ér didn’t see who it was.
“It’s not,” Ru'ér says slowly, “bad. It’s not my favorite, but I would put it in my top five.”
Jìn'ér exclaims triumphantly. “I told you all that it was a valid flavor!”
The group starts arguing with him, again, and Róng'ér turns to her sister. “How do you feel?” Her voice is loud enough for her sister to hear, but quiet enough that it gets drowned by the sounds of their friends.
“I feel…” Xuān-jiě can’t help the smile that lights up her face. “I’m so happy. Happier than I have been since Bàba passed.”
Róng'ér takes her sister’s hand, squeezing it gently. “I am so pleased for you. You, of all people, deserve this happiness.”
“I love you, Mèimei.”
“I love you, too, Jiějie.”