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Mo Ran sits at the table debating how to spend his day. In theory he wanted to go to the movies with Xue Meng, but Xue Meng managed to catch himself a cold. With how stuffed he sounded Mo Ran called their day out off. He could go alone but that doesn't sound as fun. The two of them wanted to watch the movie together.
He knows he probably should be productive instead, but he doesn't really want to. He doesn't like the idea of Xue Meng luxuriating on the couch with Veggie Bun at his parents' house while Mo Ran works on the day they agreed to take off together.
Mo Ran looks around his apartment. It's not too bad but since he has the day he might as well work on cleaning so he won't need to throughout the coming week. After, he can make something warm and tasty to bring Mengmeng.
Mo Ran has all his food on the counter and is wiping down shelves in the refrigerator when his phone rings. He struggles to extricate himself before hurrying to his cellphone across the apartment, catching it just before it goes to voicemail.
“Yep. What’s up?”
There’s a long pause before the voice on the other end says, “....I’d like to place an order for delivery.”
“What?”
He can hear a hint of annoyance in the voice when it repeats, “I’d like to place an order of egg in sweet soup and sweet lotus root with osmanthus for delivery.”
“Ohhhh,” Mo Ran says, realizing why the other person is so annoyed. “I think you’re trying to call Mengpo’s. The phone is just a digit off from mine. This happens all the time. Here,” Mo Ran recites the number and tells the man to have a good day.
Thinking that lunch sounds good and Mengpo’s is just down the street, he pulls up the website to see if they still have their beef in chili sauce that he’s so partial to. But as soon as the homepage is up on his phone the unknown number calls again.
Mo Ran laughs when he picks up. “Hi again.”
“...Is this not Mengpo’s?”
“I think I just told you my number again by accident.”
The person on the other line makes a hmph noise before saying, “I’ll just look it up myself.” The voice sounds faintly familiar. Comforting. Warm despite its clipped words. The man almost hangs up but Mo Ran manages to first say, “Hey, hold on! I was just looking at their website and they’re closed today.”
There’s another long silence before the other man says, “...Oh.” It’s not hard to hear the disappointment.
Mo Ran is very interested in the man. In all of thirty seconds he’s heard him annoyed, embarrassed and disappointed. He wants to know what he’d sound like happy.
“But,” Mo Ran says, trying to keep him on the line, “I happen to have worked in a few good restaurants before. I don’t have the ingredients for those here, but I can make you something really good and meet you somewhere.”
“No.”
“Well, I’m going to make myself lunch. If you change your mind you know where to find me.”
“No. Goodbye.”
The person hangs up, but something tells Mo Ran that he’ll call back again. He sets an internal bet of 45 minutes and quickly sets to work making something sweet and rich like his mystery caller clearly craves. Like that someone the voice reminds him of always craves even if he pretends he doesn’t. Mo Ran definitely thinks this is too sweet but it just feels right.
When 50 minutes pass. Mo Ran keeps checking his phone to see if his mystery man has called, but he hasn’t. Xue Meng has, who Mo Ran carried out a rushed conversation as he cooked, wanting to keep the phone open in case his man calls back deciding he does in fact want lunch.
When everything is cooked and neatly placed in glass containers in a box for easy transport Mo Ran stares down at his phone. In four more minutes, at the turn of the hour, he’ll swallow his pride and be the one to call the man back.
He doesn’t need to. A whole 57 minutes after their last call, the unfamiliar number pops up on his screen again.
Mo Ran tries to wait four rings to not sound too eager, but the phone has been sitting in his hands for the last ten minutes and he can only hold out to just after the second ring.
“Hello you!” He can hear the man considering hanging up again so he quickly says, “Changed your mind about lunch?”
“No… Well, no. I wanted to know if you have any recommendations. I don’t know many places around here.”
“Are you new to the area?”
The man remains silent, making Mo Ran guess that he is new or at least unfamiliar. “It’s okay!” Mo Ran says, covering his box of food for easy transport. “Uhh, do you know Flying Flower Park? There’s a pond with an island on it.”
“Yes.”
“Perfect. There’s a little picnic area on the eastern corner. I promise you’ll find food you like there.”
“Are there food trucks or something?”
Mo Ran is already pulling on his shoes to run out the door. “Yeah. Something like that.”
“Thank you.”
“Of course! Have a good lunch!”
Mo Ran grabs his already prepared box of food and runs out the door as fast as he can. The park is only two blocks away but he doesn’t know how close the man lives and he needs to beat him there to set up.
Mo Ran has just enough time to mostly set up a picnic table with his array of foods before he sees a tall man walking along the path looking around and obviously confused. The man is striking enough to make Mo Ran pause, almost too intimidated by his looks to dare approach. But he looks friendly albeit confused. His sharp, furrowed brows as he walks looking around makes him look cute.
His heart jumps with excitement.
“Hey!” Mo Ran calls, waving broad strokes through the air to catch the man’s attention. “Chu Wanning!” The man turns to look at him and freezes. Mo Ran grins and jogs towards him. “Are you looking for lunch?”
Chu Wanning’s mouth drops seeing Mo Ran running up. He hasn’t seen him in years. Not since Chu Wanning got hired in a touring symphony and left his steady little life as a teacher for a life of constant travel. Mo Ran is so much bigger than he remembers, so much tanner, so much more mature, and, perhaps most striking, so much happier.
“I, I thought there were food carts here.”
Mo Ran’s hand encloses around his and begins pulling him forward to the tables.
“So you really are my mystery caller! It’s okay, there’s no food carts, but I made lunch and made enough for you too.”
Mo Ran looks so eager that Chu Wanning can’t help but acquiesce to Mo Ran’s warm hand around his cold palm and pull towards the tables where several plates are already set out.
“You did this? Why’s there so much?” Why’s there all my favorite foods?
Mo Ran beams. “I was making lunch anyways and thought you would call back. Seems fate had something to say about us after so many years apart, giving you the wrong number. Don’t you think, Chu-laoshi? Come on, let’s eat.”
The two sit down. Mo Ran starts preparing a plate for Chu Wanning. As he does so he asks how Chu Wanning has been over the last five years.
“Fine.” Chu Wanning replies. “It’s a lot of travel. You’re never in one place for too long.”
“Sounds lonely.”
“It’s nice.”
Mo Ran sets the plate down in front of Chu Wanning and makes his own. The plate looks perfect, like a masterpiece created purely for his taste. His mouth is already watering but he waits, at least until Mo Ran says, “Oh I forgot something in my bag. You can start eating.”
He darts away and Chu Wanning immediately digs in, relishing in the rich and complex flavors so unlike bland premade food from the freezer sections heated in a hotel microwave.
Mo Ran returns with a bottle of wine. He plops down at the table next to Chu Wanning, close enough that their thighs touch, and pours the wine into a plastic cup. “Pear blossom.” Mo Ran says. “I always think of you when I drink it.”
Chu Wanning stops with the cup midway to his lips, his heart pitter pattering at the words. He remembers Mo Ran being handsome and endearing, but nothing like the man in front of him now. “How so?”
“First wine I ever drank was with you. It was this. So I always get it now.”
Chu Wanning averts his eyes, afraid he’s putting a lot too much weight on his words. He instead lifts some tender fish to his mouth and asks, “So you’ve been cooking while I’ve been away?”
“Yeah. A lot of cooking. A lot of working for Uncle. A lot of what you taught me too. Who would have thought your dumbest student would be working as a teacher’s aid now?”
“I never thought you were dumb.”
Mo Ran raises his eyebrows. “Oh? You had to. I remember me. Calling my skull a cracked egg would be putting it nicely.”
“You may have disliked class but you were never dumb.”
“Oh.” Mo Ran beams as if Chu Wanning gave him the highest praise imaginable. He leans over a little and bumps shoulders. “That’s really nice of you to say.”
A spike of energy runs through Chu Wanning from where they touched. Wanting to change the subject to keep himself from reading into the touch, Chu Wanning asks, “If you brought the wine did you know it was me on the phone? Why didn’t you say anything?”
“No. Well, I thought the voice was familiar and I kind of hoped it was you.”
Chu Wanning chokes on the wine he was hiding behind. He starts coughing. Mo Ran pulls the wine cup out of his hand so it doesn’t spill down his front and rubs a hand on his back until he stops. His eyes are tinged red by the time he stops coughing.
Mo Ran asks, “Maybe we should walk around?” to which Chu Wanning nods, still trying to catch his breath and wanting but too afraid to ask Mo Ran what he meant by I kind of hoped it was you.
Mo Ran packs up his box and they start to walk around the small pond in the park. By now late autumn is pushing into the early fronter of winter and chilly wind snaps at their backs. Mid conversation Mo Ran says, “Come here.” and holds open his far too oversized coat. He remembers Chu Wanning has never been good with the cold but also has a thin face in regards to his own comfort and discomfort.
Chu Wanning looks over at him, confusion visible on his face. “What?”
“Come here. Share my coat with me. I’m cold.”
He watches in delight as Chu Wanning’s eyes dart around before he moves closer, syncing his steps with Mo Ran. Mo Ran wraps his arm and coat around Chu Wanning’s shoulder. It only reaches a third of the way across Chu Wanning’s back, but it’s better than nothing. And as they walk Mo Ran notices Chu Wanning closing the space between their bodies, seeking his warmth, and, Mo Ran hopes, his touch.
Chu Wanning and Mo Ran walk a loop around the park. Mo Ran feels that crush he tried to deny when he was young lifting its head to roar in delight. Chu Wanning continuously steals glances at Mo Ran, feeling his own heart twinge with want and wishes he were brave enough to lean his head back against Mo Ran’s shoulder as they walk.
Mo Ran shifts the box of plates and leftovers in the arm not wrapped around Chu Wanning.
“I can carry it for a while.” Chu Wanning offers, not wanting to let their lunch end because Mo Ran is carrying an unwieldy weight.
“It’s fine.”
Chu Wanning purses his lips before spitting out, “My hotel is three blocks that way. If you wanted to put it down for a while.”
“You’re living in a hotel? For how long?”
“Until I find a place. It’s fine. I’m used to it.”
It’s Mo Ran’s turn to frown. He wants to ask Chu Wanning right then and there to move in with him under the guise of sparing him another night in a hotel, but he doesn’t and merely agrees to return to the hotel with Chu Wanning.
The hotel room is small but nice. And a mess. Chu Wanning’s ears turn red when he opens the door but Mo Ran pretends not to see. Only once inside does Mo Ran release him from the jacket and set down the box. He does take Chu Wanning’s cold hand back into his own though, pressing it between his palms to warm the callused fingers.
“I forgot to ask, what brings you back home?”
“The company only tours nine months a year. Xue Zhengyong suggested I finally return this off season.”
“I’m glad.” Mo Ran switches the hands he’s holding and smiles down at Chu Wanning. “I’m also glad you called my number.”
Chu Wanning flushes and almost pulls his hand away but stops, letting their fingers linger against each other. “I didn’t mean…”
“But you did. And that’s what matters.”
Mo Ran lifts one hand to brush a strand of hair off Chu Wanning’s cheek. He’s so cute, rosey from the biting wind contrasting his powerful angles. Mo Ran’s looking for anything in Chu Wanning’s eyes. Anything to give him hope that maybe, in some wild version of the world he remembers, Chu Wanning might like him back. But Chu Wanning closes his eyes, hiding any truths Mo Ran might have seen. Mo Ran drops his hand back to cupping Chu Wanning’s.
He then lets go to walk around the room.
The only clear area is around the guqin fully set up on the floor. Mo Ran sits down by it. “Can I?”
Chu Wanning hesitates before walking over too and nodding.
Mo Ran only knows the basics, taught years ago by Chu Wanning. When he runs his fingers along the strings he says, “You know, I wish I had appreciated you more back then. I didn’t realize what was in front of me.”
Chu Wanning reaches out to adjust Mo Ran’s hands. “No one knew I was going to join the symphony.”
Mo Ran punks a chord, letting it reverberate through the room while he moves his hand to nudge Chu Wanning’s. He looks up at Chu Wanning sitting in front of him. “That’s not what I meant.”
Something flashes in Chu Wanning’s eyes when he says that, growing his hope that maybe Chu Wanning does like him too.
“When you called I thought it sounded like you but thought I was being too hopeful. Because I like you. I really like you. And then it was you and I’ve spent all day hoping that maybe…” Mo Ran’s courage starts to fade when Chu Wanning lowers his gaze away from him.
Chu Wanning looks down at Mo Ran’s hand brushing against his own. It’s proof. True, tactile proof that he hasn’t been reading his own hope into everything Mo Ran has said all day.
Chu Wanning nudges his hand over, experimenting if he’s brave enough to wrap it around Mo Ran’s. It’s only a few centimeters, but to him it feels like far, far more.
Mo Ran’s hand starts to pull away. Realizing the distance between them is growing, Chu Wanning lunges forward to intertwine their fingers over the instrument. He dares look up at Mo Ran, wordlessly begging him to understand what he cannot bring himself to say.
Mo Ran sees it. He sees that he sees it. The dullness in Mo Ran’s eyes brightens and his almost serious expression turns into a bright smile decorated with deep dimples.
That night Mo Ran goes to visit a sick Xue Meng, Chu Wanning in tow and all Chu Wanning’s belongings packed in his car to move into Mo Ran’s house. No one answers the door when they knock so Mo Ran lets himself in.
Xue Meng is sleeping on the couch, and, just like Mo Ran expected, Veggie Bun sprawls on his chest.
“Come on,” Mo Ran whispers, pulling him to the kitchen. He steals a quick kiss to Chu Wanning’s cheek to turn his face pink again before setting about heating dinner for everyone. Chu Wanning goes to poke Xue Meng awake, who scares Veggie Bun when he shouts in excitement upon seeing Chu Wanning.
The two talk until dinner is ready, which Mo Ran carries out. He makes sure to keep his and Chu Wanning’s mild meals separate from Xue Meng’s, which has less spice than usual due him being sick. He then turns on a movie to make up for the fact one they couldn’t go to today.
Mo Ran smiles to himself in the dark room lit only by a screen. Being sick, Xue Meng hogs the whole couch leaving Mo Ran and Chu Wanning to share a loveseat. Mo Ran pulls Chu Wanning to lay curled with his head against his chest. Chu Wanning grabs Mo Ran’s hands and wraps them around him under the blanket, interlacing their fingers so Mo Ran’s hands can’t wander.
Every so often, when the screen darkens, Mo Ran is able to steal a kiss.
Once, near the end of the night, Chu Wanning tilts his chin up and kisses Mo Ran first.
Xue Meng never notices anything amiss, enraptured by the movie.