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Lan Zhan eyed the giant rolling suitcase at Nie Huaisang’s side. He resisted the urge to glance down at his own small, blue duffel bag.
“I was under the impression this trip would only be for three days and nights,” Lan Zhan said as they waited for the passengers to finish disembarking from their train.
“Huh?” Huaisang glanced up from his phone, blinking behind the fashionable glasses he had been wearing since university. “Yeah. It’s only three days, why?”
Lan Zhan gave the giant green plaid bag another unimpressed look.
Huaisang gasped in mock offense as they shuffled toward their car. Lan Zhan did not wrinkle his nose as people brushed against him, but that was only due to years of taking the metro to work. “Are you implying that I overpacked? I’m a fashion designer, Lan Zhan! How will I know which shoes I want to wear in advance?” he teased.
As they made their way to their seats, Huaisang gestured to a cluster of two seats facing opposite another pair. “Ah, this is us!”
Lan Zhan felt his dismay grow. They would be facing strangers for the entire train ride? He wasn’t one to flaunt his inherited wealth, but he did, in the moment of weakness, wish that they had booked private seats.
Huaisang normally leaned toward luxury, too.
Perhaps all the other seats were full? But then again, it did not seem like there were many people heading south on this direct line.
Huaisang gestured to the luggage rack overhead. “Can you give me a hand?” he asked, batting his lashes as if that had ever done anything other than annoy Lan Zhan.
However, they would soon be family, and his brother had practically begged him to be nice and give Nie Huaisang a chance. Hence why Lan Zhan was even here, using up some of his mostly-untouched leave from work.
He set his own duffel bag carefully on the dull metal rack and then hefted Huaisang’s bag up beside it, wondering if it was too late to go back home to his rabbits.
If he did, his brother would know the moment he arrived to tend to Tofu and Sesame.
With a small, inward sigh, Lan Zhan settled into his assigned seat and then blinked when Huaisang sat across from him. The small tabletop between them quickly found itself covered by Huaisang’s sketchbook and pencil case.
Huaisang’s phone chirped, and he glanced down at it, smiled, and then continued sketching out what looked like men’s formalwear.
Lan Zhan found himself watching the train platform through the window. It was clearing out now that most people were either on the train or making their way into the larger station.
Amongst the dwindling crowd, his eyes landed on a man in a vivid red windbreaker.
He was sprinting toward the train even as the announcement declared that the doors would be closing soon.
Curiosity kept him tracking the man’s progress, watching the way his neon green bag bounced with each long stride.
“Lan Zhan!” Huaisang called, snapping his finger in front of Lan Zhan’s face.
He startled, yanking his eyes away from the man in the red jacket to stare at his traveling companion.
Huaisang pouted theatrically. “Ignoring me already? What would Huan-Ge say?”
“I apologize.” He tried to recall the words he had not been focusing on, but his mind was blank. He glanced at the new details of embroidery and red fabric on the sketch, but still no clues became apparent. “Please repeat what you said.”
“I was saying, that, by the way, my best friend is coming with us to Yunmeng.”
Lan Zhan looked around at the empty seats. “Your best friend?” In all the years that their brothers had been dating, he had never heard Nie Huaisang call someone that. Everyone was his friend whether they had known him since high school or since the last round of shots. But a best friend?
At that moment, he heard someone yell, “Nie Huaisang! You little sneak, I know it was you who commissioned the tiger painting!”
Lan Zhan’s back hit the window as the man in the red jacket was abruptly standing at their table, panting, palms spread wide on the speckled tabletop.
Even though he was glaring at Nie Huaisang, he was devastatingly pretty.
Lan Zhan’s pulse sped up as he drank the man in like parched earth in the rain. Golden tan skin, sharp eyes, sharper cheekbones.
“Wei-Ge! So happy you could join us,” Nie Huaisang said, flicking open the silk fan in his hand. “Come, come, take a seat before we start moving!” Huaisang was smirking, and ‘Wei-Ge’ narrowed his eyes.
He finally straightened, his eyes sliding to Lan Zhan, at which point, his eyes widened and he cleared his throat, rubbing at the back of his head. “Uh, hi. You must be Lan Zhan. I’m Wei Ying.”
Wei Ying. It suited him.
Lan Zhan nodded. “You must be the best friend.”
Something in Wei Ying’s eyes softened, but he still gave Huaisang an exasperated look. “Best friend, eh? Yet you still go behind my back,” he grumbled, slipping into the seat beside Huaisang just as the train lurched into motion.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Huaisang said with a sniff. “I simply paid an artist a fair price for their work.”
“Fair price,” Wei Ying repeated, shaking his head. “You tipped almost as much as my monthly rent.”
“Because you tried to undervalue yourself again,” Hauisang shot back, smacking Wei Ying’s arm with his closed fan.
Wei Ying pulled the cap off his head, revealing a messy ponytail and ruffled bangs which he promptly blew out of his eyes. “I’m sure it had nothing to do with wanting me to be your tour guide.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Huaisang said innocently as he pulled a packet of toasted peanuts from his satchel and placed it in Wei Ying’s hands. “Eat your breakfast.”
“I already ate,” Wei Ying insisted, even as he opened the peanuts and tossed a few into his mouth.
“An energy drink and a rice cake are not breakfast.” Huaisang placed a few more small food items in front of his friend and then rolled his eyes at Lan Zhan, who was too busy observing a side of Nie Huaisang that he had never seen at the monthly dinners they shared with their elder brothers.
Wei Ying grumbled before turning his attention back to Lan Zhan. “So I hear you’re a music professor. What do you play?”
Lan Zhan bit down the urge to tell him not to speak while eating. He was well-aware that Shufu’s rules did not apply to most people. “I play a variety of instruments in order to help my students. My specialties are piano and guqin.”
“Ooh! You do traditional instruments, too?”
Lan Zhan leaned away from his enthusiasm, grateful that his hair hid his warming ears. “Mn.”
“That’s amazing. I’d love to hear you sometime. Did Huaisang tell you about the Museum of Music and Sound?”
“He did not,” he replied, eyeing the man in question with growing suspicion.
“Wei Ying plays the flute and the dizi,” Huaisang said, fluttering his fan innocently. “I figured it would be fun since you’re both music nerds.”
Wei Ying bumped his shoulder against Huaisang’s. “Says the man who was second chair in violin.”
Lan Zhan blinked. He’d know Nie Huaisang for almost five years and never known him to be a musician.
“Ah, that was just to be well-rounded,” Huaisang deflected. “When I decided not to go into sports, I knew I’d have to appease Da-Ge some other way.”
Wei Ying snorted. “I’ve seen your rosin laying around.”
“Who’s to say, really?” Huaisang demurred.
During the first leg of their journey, Wei Ying worked his way through the snacks and kept up a steady chatter with Huaisang.
He tried his best to include Lan Zhan in the conversation despite Lan Zhan’s clear social ineptitude. Lan Zhan simply did not know what to ask or say, but Wei Ying still smiled at him wide enough to make his heartbeat stutter helplessly.
Perhaps his brother was correct and he could be called lonely. He should not get this flustered by a pretty man giving him attention. Said pretty man might not even be queer, he reminded himself firmly. Besides, Lan Zhan had never met him before today.
He had been perfectly content without a partner for years. He was single by choice, having turned down many men and women. No need to lose control now just because Wei Ying threw his head back, laughing and baring a long stretch of bitable neck.
He mentally shook himself, suddenly grateful that the table hid his lap from view.
Over the course of the first hour, Lan Zhan learned that Wei Ying grew up in Yunmeng. That he was adopted by his father’s best friend, and that through him, Wei Ying had both an older sister who was “the best person in the world, no joke,” and a younger brother who yelled whenever he experienced emotions.
Lan Zhan did not even realize he was leaning into Wei Ying’s presence like a sunflower until his sternum bumped the table.
“Speaking of babies,” Nie Huaisang said after Wei Ying mentioned that his sister was expecting her first, “how is your little one?”
Lan Zhan’s mental background fantasies halted abruptly.
“Oh, now you’ve gotten me started,” Wei Ying said, bouncing in his seat and eagerly pulling out his cracked phone. “He started pulling himself up now. He’ll be walking before I can even blink.” Wei Ying turned the screen, revealing a short video of chubby-cheeked baby in a bunny onesie holding the rails of a crib and wobbling in place.
“Yuanyuan,” Wei Ying’s tinny, recorded voice called, “look at Baba.”
The baby turned to the camera and gave a drool-coated smile before shrieking happily and bouncing faster.
Wei Ying’s smile was softer now as he looked down at the screen. “Cutest baby ever,” he said.
“Absolutely,” Huaisang agreed.
“Mn,” Lan Zhan replied, because despite having his hopes crushed, the baby really was very cute.
He had always been fond of small children. He had considered the possibility of adopting one day. He—
No. He shut that train of thought down more quickly than the trees sped by outside.
“We’re gonna have to get all new clothes soon. He’s going to outgrow all the little suits Yu-Ayi bought him by the time the anniversary comes.”
“Your wedding anniversary?” Lan Zhan asked, like a martyr.
Wei Ying blinked at him and then laughed. “Oh, no, no. I’m single—“
“Tragically,” Huaisang interjected, earning an elbow to the ribs.
“—Anyway, no. In three months, it will be the anniversary of A-Yuan’s adoption. I keep telling Yu-Ayi that he’s growing too quickly. I put him in three outfits a day just to make sure I have pictures to send her of him wearing the clothes.” He shook his head, smiling. “Aiyah, we’re going to have so many outfits to pass along to Jiejie’s baby.”
Lan Zhan felt foolish hope swirl in his chest. He felt bad for the relief that swept through him upon confirming that Wei Ying was a single parent, which he knew from his uncle was not easy, but he felt relieved nevertheless.
“He’s staying with her for the weekend. I was almost late because he was clinging to my hair every time I tried to leave,” Wei Ying says, looking a little guilty now.
“Yanli-Jie and I both agreed that you needed this,” Huaisang said. “Yuan’er is in good hands, and you’re going to video call three times a day.”
Wei Ying sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know, I know. Ugh, parenting. I just don’t want to fuck him up.”
Lan Zhan could understand the sentiment.
Eventually, Wei Ying plucked at his windbreaker, trying to fan himself with the noisy material. “Damn. It’s kind of warm in here.”
“Just take it off,” Huaisang insisted after he fourth round of this.
It was then, with his hands on his hem, that Wei Ying seemed to realize his neon green bag was still slung across his body. “Oops.” He set the bag on the table, careful of Huaisang’s sketchbook. He pulled the red jacket overhead, revealing a tight black t-shirt.
Lan Zhan’s mouth went dry, and he gripped the armrest too hard when he spotted the small, but unmistakeable outlines of a pair of nipple piercings.
Wei Ying stuffed the jacket in his bag and then stood, moving easily with the steady swaying of their train car as he reached for the luggage rack across the aisle.
Lan Zhan’s eyes were drawn, with embarrassing speed, to the way the denim clung to his ass.
It was, objectively, a very nice ass. Round and shapely like a—
“Peach?” Huaisang asked.
Lan Zhan jumped, yanking his eyes away from Wei Ying. His ears felt hot enough to cook on.
Huaisang held up a cup of peach slices, and though his expression was innocent, his eyes twinkled in a way Lan Zhan didn’t trust.
“No, thank you,” Lan Zhan said, trying very hard not to scowl.
Wei Ying returned to his seat with a sunny smile. “What did I miss?”
“I was just offering a peach cup. Want one?”
“Oh, sure! Thanks.”
Lan Zhan proceeded to spend the next five minutes suffering in silence as peach juice dripped down Wei Ying’s shiny lips and left sticky trails down his chin and throat. It made him want to reach across this stupid little table and do something deranged, like lick the juice off Wei Ying’s skin.
He turned himself toward the window and watched the countryside pass them by in shades of green and brown. Only three more hours. Once they reached the hotel, Lan Zhan would settle into his room, compose himself, and then return as a functional human being, ready for their first outing.
He would, he thought with gritted teeth. There was no other tolerable option.
…
“I’m so sorry! There’s a conference taking place in the hotel this week, and someone double-booked your reservation. I’m afraid we’re all out of rooms,” the hotel clerk told Wei Ying.
The clerk really did look upset, but Wei Ying only sighed, rubbing his temples for a moment before plastering on a big, fake smile. “Okay. Can you walk me through some other lodging options?”
Nie Huaisang had already rushed upstairs to his room, citing the milkshake he’d drunk this morning despite being just as lactose intolerant as Nie Mingjue. The lobby was empty except for the coming and going of the aforementioned conference-goers.
Lan Zhan looked at Wei Ying, looked at his hotel key, and sighed, walking back to the counter.
“Please make another card. He will share my room.”
“Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying nearly squawked. “I can’t impose on you like that!”
“Think nothing of it. It is more efficient than staying in separate hotels.” He turned back to the clerk and nodded when she held up a key card in question.
A second key was placed on the counter a moment later, and Wei Ying kept trying to talk Lan Zhan out of his decision.
“What if I annoy you? My brother says I snore.”
“I sleep with a mask and earplugs,” Lan Zhan countered. He ignored the next round of what-ifs and guided Wei Ying away by the waist. “I will sleep on the floor,” he said.
“Like hell you will,” Wei Ying retorted, pointing a finger at his chest. “You paid for the room. You should get the bed.”
The continued to argue over who would sleep where until Lan Zhan opened the door, revealing a massive bed that dominated the center of the room.
Wei Ying went quiet for a second before he let out a low whistle. They set their bags down on the small dresser. “Damn. Maybe we could share.”
Lan Zhan’s eyes snapped over to him, and Wei Ying flushed. “Haha, I mean, that was dumb. Forget I said anything. I’ll just sleep on this nice couch over here,” he said, patting the plush leather loveseat.
“It would be terrible for your back,” Lan Zhan said flatly.
Wei Ying swallowed hard. “Yeah?”
Lan Zhan sat on the edge of the bed and patted the mattress. “Mn. Plenty of space to share,” he said, trying very hard to keep his voice steady.
Wei Ying watched him helplessly for a long moment. His eyes flicked down to Lan Zhan’s lips, and he swallowed again before walking over. The bed dipped under his weight, and the soft mattress pushed them together until their arms brushed.
Lan Zhan’s ears burned, and he darted a glance at Wei Ying. Wei Ying was staring back at him, cheeks dark.
Wei Ying licked his lips, and Lan Zhan followed the motion.
The air between them grew thicker. It felt solid, heavy, and alive with anticipation.
Lan Zhan glanced down, feeling the gentle brush of Wei Ying’s pinky finger against his own. He hooked his finger around Wei Ying’s, gratified by the instant gasp and smile.
“You sure you don’t mind sharing a bed with me?” Wei Ying asked, this time his voice rose to a teasing tone.
“I assure you it is no hardship.”
Wei Ying laughed, and Lan Zhan felt his lips twitch into a smile.
…
Two doors down, Nie Huaisang reclined on a mound of pillows and held up his phone. “I’m telling you, there’s going to be another wedding before the year is over. Start making plans now before they elope.”
Yanli-Jie laughed into her hand. “It went that well?”
“Definitely. I’ll be surprised if they don’t have marathon sex tonight with the way they were eyeing each other for the entire train ride.”
“A-Sang!” Huan-Ge appeared scandalized. It was an act, though. Nie Huaisang knew his soon-to-be brother-in-law was terribly nosy beneath the decorum he’d be raised with.
“It’s true,” he said, unrepentant.
“In that case, shall we start looking at venues, Lan Huan?” Yanli-Jie teased.
“Perhaps when they return.”
“I’ve already got some suit ideas,” Huaisang told them, holding up his sketches from the train.
When the three of them ended the call, Nie Huaisang grinned at the painting on the far wall.
Victory tasted sweet, he thought, biting into a fresh peach.