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Chapter Text

Sīsī was the first to find out about Yìrán and Bànshān dating.  Even if Yìrán hadn’t told her, she wasn’t blind.  She had watched their relationship grow from awkward co-workers to friends to where they’re at now.  The first time she noticed their relationship shifting past friends was when they showed up at the same time at her brother’s coffee shop.  Yìrán had always stopped in every morning for coffee, even before she got the job at Zhì Yī Tech.  Bànshān wasn’t exactly a stranger to the shop, but Sīsī was sure that Yìrán getting hired and his more frequent appearances were correlated.

But she didn’t let on to either of them that she knew, or at least suspected.  While Sīsī wasn’t exactly sure of the dynamic at work for them, she knew Yìrán would break-off any relationship with Bànshān that wasn’t professional if confronted.  Yìrán was still too cautious, in a way, with her relationships with people from Qīng U.  Despite having changed so much, Sīsī knew that Yìrán still felt the ghost of her past like a tight rope around her neck.  And Yìrán has looked much happier in these last few weeks since Sīsī had first met her.  She wasn’t going to say anything to anyone about Yìrán dating.

She distinctly remembers the first time her suspicions were confirmed, however.  Yìrán had a day off for the first time since she joined Zhì Yī, and she was spending the morning at the coffee shop until Sīsī got to leave for the day at noon.  It was busier than normal that morning, her brother finally having given in to the pumpkin spice craze.  Sīsī wasn’t surprised to see Yìrán, but she was surprised to see Bànshān.  She had thought (mistakenly, apparently) that with Yìrán not going into the office, she wouldn’t see him until later that night for dinner at Wēiwēi’s.  He gave her a friendly smile and wave as he joined the line, but Sīsī didn’t miss how he looked over at Yìrán after.  His eyes softened, and his smile was more affectionate.  Yìrán looked up automatically, as if she’d been waiting to see him at the shop, and gave him a tiny wave.  She hid her face in the book she was reading.

Sīsī had looked away, thankful for the distraction of the steamer, as she felt she intruded on something private.  She already had his order ready when he finally got to the counter.  It wasn’t difficult to remember.  After all, Yìrán’s was the same.  Sīsī desperately wanted to ask why he was there, but there was a haggard intern behind him.  (She assumed they were an intern based on the look of slowly increasing panic on their face the longer they looked at their phone.)

She missed Bànshān leaving the shop, but she didn’t miss him passing Yìrán’s table and her reflexively leaning up, so he could give her a quick kiss before heading to work.  Yìrán seemed to remember where she was, and her head snapped over to where Sīsī was behind the counter.

And once again Sīsī was thankful for the distraction of the steamer, plausible deniability entering her life.  After her shift was over, Sīsī couldn’t help but smile at Yìrán.  She was truly so happy for her friend.

“Why do you keep smiling at me,” Yìrán asked, nudging her friend.

Sīsī wanted to tell Yìrán the truth, but said instead, “I’m just happy we can hang out together before it gets dark out.”

The two shared a laugh.  “Me too,” Yìrán said, “me too.”

Chapter Text

Wēiwēi wakes to the sun in her face.  She lets out an annoyed groan, turning on her side to escape the light.  She closes her eyes in the vain hope that she’ll be able to go back to sleep.  When she doesn’t immediately go back to sleep, she heaves a resigned sigh and flips to lie on her back.  Wēiwēi just stares at the blank ceiling, wishing she hadn’t stayed up so late last night working on the underlying code for server hosting for the newest Zhì Yī Tech game.  Her husband had ended up pushing her into the elevator and told her to crash in the rooms that they had for this exact reason.  She idly wonders how much she had actually slept, considering she was sent up here at four in the morning.  She glances out the window and estimates it must be around eight or nine, so she got four to five in, which wasn’t bad.  It wasn’t good either, but it was better than nothing.

Which would be her defense when Xiāo Nài sees she is awake whenever she gets around to going back to the office.  The more she lay there, the more Wēiwēi considered just taking a moment to relax, something that she hasn’t done much recently.  She nods to herself, her plan of action, or rather inaction, decided.  Just as she’s relaxing into the warm blankets and pillows again, she hears a faint giggle.  When nothing else follows, Wēiwēi dismisses it as her mind playing tricks on her.  Probably from a lack of sleep.

She lets out another content sigh, relaxing again, when the murmur of voices reaches her.  Wēiwēi resigns herself to her fate and pushes the blankets off of herself, sitting up and slipping her feet into the slippers next to the bed.  She walks to the door and opens it, walking out into the hall.  Wēiwēi was expecting something like a few developers talking about their latest problem before heading her way towards the bedrooms or down the other way to the spare parts rooms.  Maybe even a co-worker on their phone, coming up here for both privacy and to not disturb anyone else downstairs working.

She was not expecting to see Yú Bànshān tucking Mèng Yìrán’s hair behind her ear.  She also wasn’t expecting to see the small, insecure look on Yìrán’s face slowly morph into something reassured.  When Bànshān starts peppering kisses all over Yìrán’s face, a small smile makes its way onto Wēiwēi’s face.  She was happy that Bànshān was in a relationship, especially one where he can let his playful side out with no repercussions.  Wēiwēi remembers his last girlfriend, a girl named Xīnyán who, through no real fault of her own honestly, made him act too serious.  She figures it was just because Xīnyán was a serious woman, and that extended into all aspects of her life.

But Yìrán wasn’t Wēiwēi’s first thought for whom he would choose next.  Wēiwēi didn’t hold any real grudges against Yìrán for her actions from university.  She understood why Yìrán acted the way she did, and so far at work she has been very polite and helpful.  Wēiwēi hears Bànshān let out a groan, and her eyes widen in shock.  She quickly makes her way back into the bedroom she was using and grabs her phone.

She opens the phone app and calls Xiāo Nài, quickly giving him a rundown of what she saw.

Xiāo Nài laughs, amusement clear in his tone.  “I guess I’ll have to have a conversation with him about proper office conduct when he gets downstairs.  I’ll call him.”

Wēiwēi hums her acknowledgement.  “I’ll come down after he does.  I don’t think that either of them are ready for the office to know about them,” she says, thinking about the vulnerability on Yìrán’s face mere minutes ago.

They exchange goodbyes and seconds later Wēiwēi hears Bànshān’s phone ringing.  Wēiwēi walks back to the door, opening it enough that she can hear his side of the conversation, with a mischievous smile.  She’s sure her husband was being himself, teasing yet reassuring in the same words.

“… I’ll be right there,” he says.  “Yeah,” follows, the word drawn out with uncertainty.  Wēiwēi wonders if Xiāo Nài has said anything yet about workplace con- “NO.  We do NOT need to have that discussion.”

There it is, Wēiwēi thinks with a breathless laugh.

“God.”  She can feel Bànshān’s embarrassment and almost feels bad for him.

“Goodbye.”  Wēiwēi can only imagine what Xiāo Nài had said on the other end of the line.  She knows he would tell her if she asked, but at the same time, she has already seen so much that Yìrán and Bànshān hadn’t wanted anyone to see.  She wasn’t going to encroach any further on their privacy.

Wēiwēi slips off the slippers and puts her trusty sneakers back on, waiting to hear when it was clear for her to leave.

“Goodbye, Bànshān,” she hears Yìrán say.  Wēiwēi was mildly surprised to hear the amount of exasperation in her tone, but then remembers what Bànshān is like when something makes him too pleased with himself.  She quickly decides that he must’ve said or done something as he left.

“Have fun downstairs!”  Yìrán says, and Wēiwēi knows that tone.  She often used it with Èrxǐ when they were in university.  It was the tone that one used when getting back at the other person, knowing that they were in the right.

She steps into the hallway, staying close to the wall.  She waits until she hears the door to the bathroom shut, and promptly makes her way to the stairwell and makes her way downstairs.  Thinking back on what she saw and heard, Wēiwēi finds herself hopeful that soon she’ll be able to count Yìrán as a friend.  She just needs to talk to her so that Yìrán stops looking like a scared rabbit when they interact.

Chapter Text

Hǎo Méi pulls the hood of his jacket further up, trying to keep his face as dry as he could given that the rain was sideways now.  Or, well, that was physically impossible unless he was lying on the ground on his side, but semantics.  He had gone out to pick up some food that he had ordered for dinner.  K.O. had gotten sick and so, being the fantastically good boyfriend he is, Hǎo Méi had gone out to their favorite restaurant for takeaway.  This is because it is a truth universally acknowledged among his friends (and family) that he could make a pig sick from eating food he cooked.

He finally reaches the restaurant and quickly yanks the door open, so he can get out of the cold and wet weather.  He brushes at the water on his jacket, happy that his new investment really did live up to the waterproof-but-still-warm-and-toasty branding.  Finally, the last few moments of cold leaves the air around him as the heat from the restaurant overpowers it.  Hǎo Méi lets out a sigh as he flexes his fingers, hoping that his order was ready.  He just wanted to get back to his apartment and snuggle up in a blanket next to K.O. while they watched bad reality shows.  He goes to push his hood off when he hears a familiar laugh followed by a somewhat familiar giggle.

Bringing his hand back down, his hood still covering his head, he looks around for the source.  He finds it in a few seconds.  Yú Bànshān, one of his best friends, was sitting with Mèng Yìrán, their newest hire.  Not all that unusual considering Bànshān was the one to officially hire her and show her the ropes.  He has no reason to believe that the dinner is anything other than that: dinner.  That is, until Bànshān lifts his hand and Hǎo Méi realizes that Yìrán’s hand was in his.  He sees a ring sparkle on her fingers and, for a split second, he feels shock ratchet through him at the thought that his best friend was engaged and didn’t tell anyone.  Or, at least, didn’t tell him.  The moment passes, though, as he remembers the ring that Yìrán wears all the time, and another glance reassures him.

Hǎo Méi laughs to himself.  The idea that Mèng Yìrán and Yú Bànshān were dating was absurd.  She’s changed from their time in university, sure, but he always thought that Bànshān’s fleeting interest in her would stay exactly that.  Fleeting.  His friend has had some relationships over the years since they graduated, and all of the girls he dated shared several traits that Yìrán… didn’t have.  Hǎo Méi’s eyes dart from side to side as if he was reading the air as he connected the dots in his mind.  Always dating girls who were more techie like them.  Girls that had short hair and short stature.  Girls that, like Wēiwēi and Èrxǐ, didn’t really care about what they wore so long as it was appropriate for the occasion.  Yìrán was alright with tech; she wasn’t well-versed in coding and programming like the rest of them, but she wasn’t a potato behind a keyboard either.  She was taller, with long hair that had always been long as far as he knew.  And he knows that, despite whatever changes may have occurred to her, Yìrán still put a lot of effort into how she dressed.

He looks back over at the couple, now that he is convinced they are that, and all but gapes openly at the sight of Bànshān lifting Yìrán’s hand to his mouth.  He presses a kiss to her knuckles and looks at her with such clear contentment that Hǎo Méi feels like he’s walked into a parallel universe.  He’s never seen Bànshān look like that before, never seen him so soft with anyone but his nieces.  Pulling out his phone to check on the order, Hǎo Méi averts his eyes from them.  As soon as he reads that his order is ready, the number is being called out by one of the workers there.

“Order sixty-six!”  Hǎo Méi walks over, shoving his phone back in his pocket and taking the bag of food with a thanks to the worker.

He turns back to the door, but can’t help taking another glance at the couple.  He smiles at the sight of Bànshān gesturing wildly, so obviously telling a story.  Yìrán holds her napkin in front of her mouth as her shoulders shake from laughter.  Bànshān’s story must have taken a turn for the hilarious right as Yìrán took a bite.  Hǎo Méi takes a breath in and holds it for a moment, contemplating.  He releases the breath in a rush, making a decision.  If Bànshān hasn’t said anything yet, he wasn’t going to force his friend to tell him.

He reaches the door and pushes out into the sidewalk.  The rain was still sideways, and Hǎo Méi cradles the food to his chest, trying to keep it dry and hot as well as he could.  His apartment was only a few blocks away.  KO has probably dozed off again on their couch.

Yeah, Hǎo Méi thinks with a smile, I am a fantastically good friend and boyfriend.

Chapter Text

Yǒnghóu fishes out his keys from his pocket, waiting for the elevator to open the doors.

“All elevators are the same.”

Yǒnghóu scoffs to himself, thinking about how one of his co-workers, Zǎi Xiāowén, had said that during lunch a few days ago.  If all elevators are the same, then why does it take thirty-seven thousand years to get to the sixth floor of his apartment building when it takes four seconds to get to the sixth floor of Bànshān’s building?

The doors jolt apart before smoothly opening, and Yǒnghóu gives the doorway a suspicious look as he steps through them to the hallway.  He’s never trusted elevators.  He doesn’t like the way that they jerk whenever they start moving.  There’s no fear of falling to his death in one.  He studied the mechanics of them for fun one night, delving into several rabbit holes for elevator information.  The standard and up-to-date elevator has so many safety mechanisms installed that he genuinely just stared at his computer for a few seconds, his mind boggling at the fact that such cramped space was so well-equipped.

But still, he thinks to himself, turning around to glare at the now closed doors of the elevator, Still…

Yǒnghóu quickly realizes that just standing and glaring at the elevator might get weird, so he turns left and heads towards Bànshān’s apartment.  He left his favorite wireless mouse and mouse pad there by mistake the other night after the usual gaming sesh.  He felt like something was off the entire day, since he had to use his third choice mouse at work (his second choice was at his apartment) and his plain, backup mouse pad.  It was late, but he wasn’t worried about waking up his friend.  Bànshān had said something about visiting someone or somewhere tonight, so the apartment was empty.  And even if he was at his apartment, the man would sleep through a hurricane.

Still, it was late, so Yǒnghóu took the time to be careful about getting into the apartment.  Unfortunately, the front landings echo unusually loudly in this building, so almost any movement was broadcasted to the rest of the floor.  Closing the door behind him, one hand on the edge of it to muffle as much as he could, Yǒnghóu slipped off his sneakers and decided to go sockless.  He was going in and out right quick, so there wasn’t really a need to put on the house slippers, right?

Keys back, quietly, in his jacket pocket, he moves forward to the rest of the apartment.  They had decided to game in the living room for once, Hǎo Méi complaining that he was too cold in the dining area.  Dramatic but fair.  Bànshān was one of those people who would be comfortable in the middle of a blizzard in a sweater and jeans.  The light in the kitchen was on, but it was the only light on in the apartment.  Yǒnghóu looks at it quizzically for a moment before deciding his friend left it on before going to work that morning.  He shrugs and goes to the living room, his socked feet meeting the soft rug Èrxǐ had bullied Bànshān into getting.  Sīsī had just sat there, laughing, while her girlfriend scolded the older man.  The light from the kitchen was just enough to let him see that the coffee table had been cleared off.

In place of the usual computer bits and bobs, an assortment of colored pens were scattered across a closed pink planner.  For a moment, just the slightest second, Yǒnghóu thinks he accidentally broke into someone else’s apartment.  But not, that’s definitely a picture of Bànshān and his family on graduation day hanging on the wall.  Him, his mom, his dad, and his sister.  That’s right!  He has a younger sister!  Xiǎo Qǐ!  She must be staying over, that must be what he said earlier.  Bànshān had said he was having a visitor over instead of the opposite way around.  Of course.

Yǒnghóu smiles, satisfied that he solved a mystery that honestly wasn’t really needing to be solved.  He goes to the TV stand and opens the door on the cabinet where he knows Bànshān puts his tech stuff when he had visitors that weren’t the guys and Wēiwēi over.  Lying on the small top shelf were his favorite mouse and mouse pad.  He pushes the door closed slightly, the soft-close hinges taking care of the rest.  He goes to stand up properly when a woman’s voice stops him.  It was familiar, but not the voice he was expecting.  Instead of Xiǎo Qǐ, it sounded like it was Mèng Yìrán from work.  But no, that… that couldn’t be right.  They were friends, sure, and he was the one who hired her, but why would Yìrán be over at Bànshān’s apartment this late at night.

“If you steal all the blankets again by the time I get back, I will hurt you,” she says, walking down the hallway to the kitchen.  Yǒnghóu plasters himself against the wall.  He hopes to any gods listening he isn’t seen.  There’s no situation that ends well if she sees him.  And there must be some reason that they’ve not told the rest of the guys that they’re dating.  It doesn’t take a genius to connect the dots on this one.  There’s only one reason she would know such an intimate detail about Bànshān.

Yìrán grabs a glass from the drying rack and pours water into it, filling it halfway.  She takes a sip as she turns around to head back to Bànshān’s bedroom.  Yǒnghóu holds his breath, but she doesn’t see him.

“I’m back,” Yìrán says, her voice muffled slightly because of the distance.

Bànshān’s sleepy voice answers her.  “And look at that, I didn’t steal the blankets.  Plenty left for you, princess.”

Yǒnghóu gags silently.  He’s happy for his friend, of course he is, but ew.  Bànshān is like a brother to him.  He thought the two of them were the last stronghold against Xiāo Nài and Hǎo Méi’s sappiness.  Man truly is an island.

“My hero,” Yìrán replies, her tone flat and sarcastic.

Bànshān must make some sort of face or gesture that Yìrán was unimpressed by because a small yelp and an apology follow shortly after her words.

“You hurt me,” he says, “means you have to kiss it better.”

Yǒnghóu just stares at the mouse and mouse pad in his hand, wondering if it had been worth it to suffer this instead of asking Bànshān to bring them in the morning.  Then he remembers how everything had felt slightly off that day, how nothing he did or said or felt was right.  Truly, it was a toss up.  He stays standing still for a few more moments, straining his ears for any signs that someone was leaving the bedroom again.  When he counts to thirty and back and nothing happens, he decides it’s safe to leave.

He ignores how Yìrán left the light on in the kitchen, walking right past it to the entryway.  He grabs his shoes instead of putting them on, and opens the door quietly.  He steps into the hall of the apartment complex and pulls the door shut.  After placing his shoes down on the worn carpeted floor, Yǒnghóu fishes his keys out again, silent as an owl in flight.  The lock clicks into place, and in the silence of the hall it sounds as loud as a car backfiring.  He winces and grabs his sneakers, making his way to the elevator.  All things considered, the recovery went well.

Mission: Accomplished.

“Did you hear something?”  Yìrán asks her boyfriend, shaking his shoulder.

Half speaking to her, half speaking into the pillow, Bànshān replies, “Was nothing, probably my neighbor.  Fù Róng is always getting back this late from wherever she works.”  He turns over and faces her.  “Go back to sleep.”

She nods, and he wraps his arm around her waist.  He presses a kiss to her shoulder, and she pulls him closer to herself.  Their breathing syncs and soon they fall asleep like that, like two shrimps in a bowl of rice.

Chapter Text

Xiāo Nài lets out a heavy sigh as he leans back in his ergonomically designed office chair.  The end of the month statistics had finally arrived in his inbox, and he could feel the headache forming after the first two pages.  Normally he didn’t stress over this sort of thing.  He knows his team, and he knows that the people he works with care about what they’re doing.  But ever since Yìrán was hired a few months ago, her uncle, and therefore his company, have been making snide comments since.  Nothing that could be pointed as direct libel or slander to the great annoyance of their legal team, but little jibes here and there about how young they are as a company and other things like that.  He knows from Sīsī that Yìrán has talked to her uncle multiple times about this.  It appears that he isn’t going to let up any time soon, though.

And the result of all this is that the public opinion of Zhì Yī has once again been called into question.  It wasn’t as bad as when Zhì Yī was first starting up, but it was enough that Xiāo Nài could tell he would be seeing the numbers affected in the reports.

Standing up, he decides that getting fresh water and maybe a snack would help with his headache.  Taking a small break will help with his efficiency in the long run.  He walks out of his office and look at the partially filled floor.  There were several people who were missing, but he knew that they offered to be part of the night shift.  He waves at Hǎo Méi and heads towards the small kitchen.  In the reflection of the microwave door, he can see even before he gets into the kitchen who else is there.  He pauses and watches them with a calculating eye.

He’s known about Yìrán and Bànshān’s relationship since Wēiwēi had called him that morning all those weeks ago.  Xiāo Nài had teased Bànshān, then, on that call.  Asking his friend if he needed to have a refresher on interoffice relationships, just to hear his reaction.  The general unspoken opinion at Zhì Yī was that as long as you can do your job properly, it doesn’t matter if you’re dating a coworker.  Of course, it got more restricted the higher one party of the relationship was up the chain of operation.  But the heads of two different departments?  That would be fine.

He sees Yìrán move next to Bànshān, their arms pressed against each other.  He leans into her for a moment, and Xiāo Nài sees some of the tension bleed out of her.  Something he didn’t realize abut her until she relaxed.  He blinks in realization at the fact; he hadn’t realized that she was walking around the office with that tension until he saw her relax.  Had the little digs from Zhēn Yì really stressed her out that much?  Hm…

Bànshān turns to her and presses a kiss to the top of her head, much like how Xiāo Nài does with his own wife.  It makes him curious, but he figures that razzing Bànshān over the phone was enough.  His friend was easily flustered about girls he liked, and it seems like this relationship with Yìrán was important.

Xiāo Nài turns back around and walks to about five steps away.  He turns back to the kitchen and makes his footsteps loud as he walks that way.  When he walks into the kitchen, Yìrán is taking the tea strainer out of her travel mug, and Bànshān is placing the coffeepot back into the coffee maker.  Yìrán smiles politely and gives Xiāo Nài a short bow before leaving the kitchen quietly.  Xiāo Nài just putters around a bit, pouring hot water into a mug and looking for some sort of snack in the drawers around the room.

Just before Bànshān leaves the kitchen, Xiāo Nài says, just loud enough for the two of them to hear, “I’m happy for you.”  He glances over his shoulder and sees Bànshān give him a small, grateful smile.

Chapter Text

Yìrán fusses with Bànshān’s shirt, straightening the collar and fixing his tie, so it laid down nicely in the middle.  He watches her with amusement and affection in equal measure.  He holds his arms at his sides so that he doesn’t interrupt her movements.  Tonight was The Night.  They were officially going to tell their friends that they’re dating.  Bànshān knew that Xiāo Nài and Wēiwēi already knew.  The quiet conversation he had with Xiāo Nài in their small break room assured him of that.  And if he knew, Wēiwēi had to know.  There were no secrets that were kept for long with that couple.  It used to aggravate Bànshān to no end that he couldn’t surprise either of them, but he’s glad that tonight there were two fewer people that he had to worry about reactions from.

He and Yìrán were going to have dinner with the original Zhì Yī founders, K.O., Wēiwēi, Sīsī, and her girlfriend Èrxǐ.  The only reactions he had concerns about were those of Èrxǐ and Sīsī.  Well, maybe not Sīsī, but Èrxǐ had never been quiet about whom she did and didn’t like.  Especially back in uni.  And she decided a long time ago that Yìrán was on her shit list.  Bànshān lets out a small sigh, and Yìrán steps back.

“Are you alright?”  Her eyes are filled with worry.  “If you aren’t feeling well, we can cancel and try another day.”

Forgetting his concerns for a moment, he gives her a skeptical look.  Eyebrow raised, disbelieving smirk, and everything.  “And this quick response has nothing to do with your nerves.  Right.”

Yìrán levels her own unimpressed look at him for a few seconds before the façade drops, eyes darting to the floor.  Her voice is soft, nervous in a way he hadn’t heard her speak in for months.  “I just… I don’t want to make you have to choose.”

“Choose?”

“Between me and your friends if they don’t like me.”  The “if they still hate me ” hung in the air, unvoiced.

“Hey,” Bànshān says gently, bringing his hand to her cheek and lifting her head.  “Wēiwēi and Xiāo Nài already know, and they don’t seem to be upset about it.”  Xiāo Nài’s blessing from several weeks ago in the office kitchen reassured him that the rest of their friend group wouldn’t be upset at the news.

“But what about Hǎo Méi and Yǒnghóu?”  Yìrán asks.

“What about Sīsī?”  He fires back, just as quick.  His thumb glides over her cheekbone, and her hand comes up to hold his wrist.  Her grip tightens, and for a single moment Bànshān thinks she’s going to pull his hand from her face.  But instead, she just holds onto him and shuts her eyes.

He lets silence fall between them, knowing by now that she needs a few minutes to get her thoughts straight.  When she opens her eyes, Bànshān says, “They already know you, Rán’ér, and they know how much you’ve grown as a person since university.  Yǒnghóu and you started to have lunch together to gossip about the new drama you like.  Hǎo Méi gave you snacks the other day when he saw how tired you were.  I know them very well.  Yǒnghóu isn’t normally someone who disrupts his schedule.  And Hǎo Méi rarely likes to offer food when he has it.”

He brings his other hand to her face, cupping it like she’s made of fine porcelain.  “Rán’ér, they like you for who you are.  Us telling them that we’re engaged isn’t going to change that.  If anything, Hǎo Méi will be excited to help plan the wedding.  You know how he gets about big events.”

Bànshān smiles comfortingly, expecting Yìrán’s laugh to follow his joke about their friend.  When she doesn’t, his brows furrow.  She’s staring at him like he’s spoken a different language perfectly.

“What?”

“… Engaged ?”  Yìrán’s voice goes high at the end of the word.

Oh.  Shit.

He closes his eyes and curls his lips inward before releasing them.  “I knew I forgot something.”

“Yú Bànshān, what do you mean we’re engaged?”  She pulls away from him and takes a step back.

Logically, he knows that she’s not mad at him mad at him, but it still hurts how she puts space between them.

“Rán’ér,” he starts with a hesitant smile, “I, uh, meant to talk to you about this.  But there was never any time with the promotions for the new expansion pack, and work kept getting in the way.”  He takes a deep breath, and the words just tumble out of his mouth.  “The reason I know that Wēiwēi and Xiāo Nài already know is because I asked them to go ring shopping with me at the beginning of the month.”

“It’s almost the end of May,” she says.  “You’ve been holding on to the ring for almost four weeks without saying anything?”

“I…”  He trails off, running a hand through his hair, suddenly frustrated with his inability to say what he wants to.  “I wanted it to be special.  I had a whole thing planned, but then there was that week of just nothing but rain, and so we didn’t really go out except to work.  And you deserve something special,”  Bànshān steps towards her and takes her hands, “because I wanted to show you how much you mean to me.  How grateful I am to be able to see you any time at work, even if it’s just a quick wave when we pass each other in the hall.  I love your laugh, and I love that you try to hide you’re laughing when I misquote something.

“You’ve been so supportive when I’m feeling down, and I am so honored that you can come to me when you are, too.  I like that you still remember I’m a Pompompurin kind of guy,” he teases, reminding her of how they re-met before she realized who he was.  “I love that you never put the bowls and plates away correctly in the drying rack, even though it’s still wrong.  I love,” Bànshān falters when he sees Yìrán’s eyes start to water.

He pulls her closer, twining their hands together before bringing them up on either side of themselves.  He leans in, making sure she sees how serious he is.  “I love you.”  His voice is suddenly rough, like he’s trying to keep his emotions at bay.  “I love you so much, Rán’ér.  And I’d like it if we could argue about the correct placing of plates and bowls into old age.  Would you marry me?”

She blinks rapidly as if to stop the tears, but they fall anyway.  A smile blooms on her face, and Bànshān feels his heart skip several beats at the sight.  “I think I’d like to,” her voice is light and lovely, and he feels like he’s falling for her all over again.

“You do?”  He can’t stop himself from asking, from wanting to make sure she’s certain.

“I do,” she says, her eyes closing as she tilts her head up and meets his lips in a kiss.

Their first kiss as an engaged couple.

After they place their orders, the large group’s various conversations start again.  Bànshān glances to his right, gently squeezing Yìrán’s left hand underneath the table.  She turns her head away from Sīsī and K.O. and he lifts an eyebrow.

Now?

A soft smile and a nod of her head has him standing up, letting go of her hand as he does.  He clears his throat awkwardly, and suddenly he’s the one who’s nervous about how their friends will react to the news.  Xiāo Nài and Wēiwēi are the first of the group to notice that he’s standing, not hard given that they’re sitting on his left.  Xiāo Nài does his thing, something that Bànshān always wonders about, and everyone goes quiet, their eyes turning to him.

“I, uh,” he takes a sip of wine before trying again.  “I’m getting married.”

Shit, wait, that’s the wrong thing to lead with.

He hears Yìrán stifle a laugh, obviously very amused with how his announcement is going.

Èrxǐ says loudly from between K.O. and Hǎo Méi, “You’re getting married?  I didn’t even know you were dating!  Wēiwēi, how could you not tell me!”

Wēiwēi lets out a sigh, used to Èrxǐ’s antics.

“Who is it,” Yǒnghóu asks, “who’s the girl?”

Bànshān flounders for a moment, still thinking about why Èrxǐ would ask Wēiwēi why she didn’t tell her.

Yìrán comes to his aid.  “Um, I… I am.”  She stands up next to him, and her hand finds his automatically.  Her touch grounds him, and he feels himself settle.

There was silence at the table after Yìrán’s statement.  It was long enough that Bànshān started to question if his friends really would accept her.  Her grip tightens, and he’s sure she’s feeling much worse.

Sīsī asks quietly, “When did you start dating?”

Yìrán turns to her and admits, “About the time your brother finally gave into pumpkin spice.”

Another silence follows, and then Èrxǐ shouts, “Damn!  I’m out a hundred!”

Yìrán looks over to him for answers, but Bànshān has no idea what she’s talking about.

“Who had them dating so soon?”  Hǎo Méi calls out, looking around the table.

Sīsī lets out a defeated groan.  “I knew it, too!  I can’t believe you made me second-guess myself,” she scolds K.O.

He takes it easily, his normal stoic look replaced by a smug smile.  “That’s your problem.”

The couple watches as money exchanges hands all across the table, Yǒnghóu holding a notebook and pencil to keep track of it all.  They sit down, minds still unable to process what’s happening.

“Congratulations,” Xiāo Nài says to Bànshān, his voice sounding quiet in the din of their friends arguing.  He ruffles Bànshān’s hair like they were first years in university all over again.  “I told you the ring would look nice.”

Wēiwēi playfully glares at her husband before saying, “I said that it would.  You said that he was hopeless and left us both in the jewelry store while you went to get lunch for the three of us.”

Bànshān leans back in his chair with a smile.  He looks over at his fiancée, who is showing the ring to Sīsī.  He leans forward and places a kiss on her cheek before putting his arm around her shoulders and joining the conversation with the two girls and Hǎo Méi, who had apparently switched spots with his boyfriend to talk about event planning.

It wasn’t a surprise that the waiter ended up bringing two bottles of champagne to congratulate Yìrán and him on the engagement.  Èrxǐ was, by nature, a loud person.  There was no universe where the staff wouldn’t know.

“Are you alright,” Yìrán checks in with him halfway through their meal, echoing herself from earlier that evening.

“Yeah,” he says, the warm glow of happiness still thrumming in his veins.  “Do you feel alright?”  He bounces the question back to her.

“I do,” she says, her mouth curving into a smile.  “I really, really do.”