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“And there was only one bed!”
Jiang Cheng looks up from the mountain of dumplings he’s folding as his nephews burst into laughter. He scowls in their direction more out of habit than anything else, but he is annoyed. His nephews, actual and honorary, have been staying with him and Huaisang for a few days. Wei Ying and Wangji are finally finishing the new room addition to their house. Xichen and Mingjue are helping, and when Jin Ling and Zizhen heard their cousin-friends were getting to stay with Uncles Cheng and Huaisang, they begged their parents to wrangle an invite for them as well. And it’s fine, it is! Jiang Cheng adores the rascally boys, but their behavior is utterly baffling. For no reason he can discern, one of them will shout the phrase “and there was only one bed!” and the rest will, without fail, collapse against each other and laugh themselves silly.
“Oh good, dumplings!” Huaisang had snuck up on Jiang Cheng and slid his arm around Jiang Cheng’s waist. “You’ve got your angry eyes on, my darling. What’s the matter?”
“--bed!” This time, Jingyi utters the cursed phrase, and the others have to pause their game to catch their breaths as they laugh.
“What the fuck are they talking about, Huaisang?” Jiang Cheng waves a hand toward the living room. “They keep saying that thing and then laughing, and I have no idea what the fuck they’re on about!”
Huaisang leans against Jiang Cheng’s side. He watches the boys for a few minutes, then shrugs. “The ways of the youths are beyond me,” Huaisang says. “I have transcended into the wisdom of elders.”
“You’re forty three,” Jiang Cheng says, elbowing Huaisang, “not an old man.”
“I have twenty eight silver hairs, A-Cheng!”
Jiang Cheng glares down at Huaisang. “Stop it.”
Huaisang lifts up on his tiptoes to steal a kiss. “It’s harmless, whatever it is. Stop worrying.”
“But what if it’s, like, a code or something? What if they are up to … trouble. What if they are getting into trouble, Huaisang!”
Huaisang opens his mouth to make another joke, but he pauses when he senses Jiang Cheng’s genuine distress and pats his arm instead.
“They’ve been playing Minecraft all weekend. Baffling teenage slang aside, nothing else has changed about their behavior. They are fine, good boys. You, on the other hand, are now banned from watching Dateline or whatever other ‘news’ shows have got you worried.” He steals another kiss. “Ask Yanli-jie when you have coffee later in the week. I’m sure she’s in the loop.”
“Mn.” Jiang Cheng frowns at the boys and their renewed whoops of laughter. “Go mix up the dipping sauces, will you? Dinner will be ready soon. Boys!” he shouts. “Table, drinks, side dishes, now!”
“A-Cheng, you’ve been very quiet.”
Jiang Cheng looks up guiltily and offers his sister a crooked grin. “Sorry, Jiejie.”
Yanli smiles at him and plucks a madeleine from the tiered rack of treats between them. She knew something was up when he offered to take her to the Blue Balloon, but she waits patiently, sipping her tea and enjoying the treats, as he works up the courage to ask his ridiculous question.
“Jie,” he says at last, “have you noticed anything … strange … about the boys and their behavior?”
Yanli places her cup in the saucer and gives Jiang Cheng her full attention. “No,” she says, “I haven’t. But I know the boys are different around you than they are around Zixuan and me. Did something happen this weekend?”
Jiang Cheng grimaces. He knows he’s being ridiculous, but --
“They kept shouting this phrase at each other, Jie, and laughing, and it sounded like some sort of weird code, and -- and --” He stops. His sister is trying not to laugh at him, and it breaks some of the tension Jiang Cheng had been carrying.
“The bit about one bed?” Yanli asks.
“Yes! What the fu-- what is that? Huaisang said he didn’t know, and I was too afraid to google it.”
“Oh dear,” Yanli says, openly laughing now. “My poor A-Cheng! You are a wonderful jiujiu to be so worried.”
“I’m overreacting, aren’t I?”
“A little,” Yanli admits. “It drives Zixuan crazy, if that’s any consolation.”
“It’s really not,” Jiang Cheng grumbles. “I’m much cooler than him!” He snags one of the macarons from the snack tray and bites into it. “So what is it?”
“Ah.” Yanli takes a sip of tea. “Well. Apparently it comes from a fanfiction trope. Two characters who seemingly hate each other must find shelter for the night, but when they find a place to rest, there is only one bed, which they must share. It often leads to an … understanding between the characters.”
“Jiejie!” Jiang Cheng says, horrified as several thoughts occur to him. “Are they reading about sex?” he says, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Were they talking about sex all weekend? Who even taught them about this fanfiction? It was that Ouyang boy, wasn’t it? I’ll break his legs! They’re too young! They--mmph!”
Jiang Cheng’s spiraling tirade is cut off as Yanli jams a cookie into his mouth.
“Calm down, A-Cheng.” She waits for him to chew and swallow and take another cookie before she explains. “First of all, yes, they probably are reading some of the spicier stories. They’re fifteen. It’s natural to be curious about sex, and exploring those ideas through fiction is perfectly safe and perfectly normal. And yes, I believe our resident romantic Zizhen introduced the boys to fanfiction. I’m surprised you don’t know about it. Huaisang reads it all the time. If I’m not mistaken, he’s quite a prolific author as well. He’s been very involved with the Thousand Lotus Blossoms series since we were teens.”
Jiang Cheng is sure that he blacked out somewhere in the middle of Yanli’s explanation.
“What? Wait, what?”
“Oh dear,” Yanli says, patting Jiang Cheng’s arm soothingly. “I thought you knew.”
“Huaisang is writing filth and sharing it with my nephews?”
“Oh dear,” Yanli says again. “A-Cheng, take a breath and think about it. First of all, Huaisang would never be inappropriate with our boys. He is, with my full knowledge, as well as A-Xian’s and Mingjue’s and Xichen’s and, I’m pretty sure, the Ouyangs’, a trusted adult to whom the boys can take questions they might be too embarrassed to ask us. You are, too, by the way, although I think the boys are more comfortable asking you general life questions. Am I right?”
Jiang Cheng huffs. “Yeah, I’ve had some big conversations with Sizhui about familial pressure lately. And come to think of it, Huaisang has taken Jingyi out for bubble tea a few times. The boy always looks like a skittish colt before but like he’s been relieved of a burden after.”
“That’s wonderful!” Yanli refills their teacups. “I’ve always felt that children should have a variety of trusted adults in their lives. I know we would have benefited from that. Perhaps we wouldn’t have needed therapy quite so urgently.”
Jiang Cheng drinks his tea and digests this. His sister is right, of course.
“And the boys. What do they like?”
“I believe their primary focus is a show called The Prince of Tennis. I wouldn’t bring it up, though, lest they ‘die of cringe.’” Yanli grins at him. “It’s a sweet show. A-Ling will occasionally consent to watching it with us.”
“Noted.” Jiang Cheng trusts his sister, though he does make a mental note to watch the show. Still, he trusts his sister. “But the bed thing. What’s that all about?”
“Oh, yes.” Yanli takes the last madeleine and gives Jiang Cheng the last macaron. “Well, I haven’t asked A-Ling outright, you understand. He’s going through an eye roll and running to his room phase at the moment, but from context, I believe the phrase has become shorthand for an unexpected twist.” She shrugs and nibbles on the cookie. “I don’t fully understand the logic, but I think it’s just one of those teenage things.” She smiles at Jiang Cheng. “You remember that time in high school, when A-Sang and A-Xian started saying everything was ‘le groove’ after they took French together?”
Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes. “God, yes, they were so annoying!”
“They were,” Yanli says fondly. “Do you feel better?”
“I feel like an idiot,” Jiang Cheng admits. “But thanks, Jiejie.”
“You’re very welcome, A-Cheng.” Yanli squeezes his hand. “And really, you should ask A-Sang about his stories. They’re very … evocative.”
It takes Jiang Cheng a few days to work up the courage to ask Huaisang about his writing. He looks up from his comfortable spot in bed, through the door to their bathroom where Huaisang stands at the sink completing his nightly skincare routine.
“A-Sang,” he says, putting his Kindle aside. “Jiejie told me something interesting.”
“Oh?” Huaisang looks over his shoulder at Jiang Cheng. “What was that?”
Jiang Cheng swallows down his awkwardness. Huaisang knew every weird and worrisome thing about Jiang Cheng and loved him anyway.
“She said that you write … stories. About …” Oh god, this is humiliating. “She said --”
Huaisang whirls around, a look of pure delight on his face. “Yanli-jie told you about my Lotus Blossom fics?”
“Ah. Yes.” Jiang Cheng’s cheeks heat. “She said they were very good.”
“Did she?” Huaisang claps his hands. “Yanli-jie has discriminating taste! I’m honored!”
Jiang Cheng’s blush deepens. “Could I … could I read some?”
Huaisang drops his towel and bounds over to the bed. He throws his arms around Jiang Cheng and peppers his face with kisses.
“I thought you’d never ask!”