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Despite what his brother might say, Xingqiu actually did finish going through the required documents before he left for his lunch with Chongyun. It’s pleasantly sunny, the sky unusually clear for a February afternoon with just the slightest chill in the air; the last wisps of winter clinging stubbornly to his skin.
“So Shenhe told the clan head to—“ Chongyun pauses in the middle of his story. He eyes the plate of dumplings that sits innocuously on his side of the table.
“Xingqiu,” says Chongyun, “did you—did you just switch our plates?”
“No I didn’t,” says Xingqiu. “Why do you ask?”
“I don’t remember you ordering cold noodles, Xingqiu.”
“What do you mean?” Xingqiu picks up his chopsticks and stirs the noodles. “I love cold noodles, even…” He wrinkles his nose. “Even the shredded carrot on top.”
Chongyun gives him a blank stare, but Xingqiu knows him well enough by now to know that this is a particular stare reserved solely for Xingqiu and Xingqiu alone.
He feels privileged knowing there’s a whole spectrum of Chongyun-emotions that only he has the ability to unlock. Even if half of said emotions are some variation on annoyance.
He holds up his hands in defeat. “Ah, Yunyun, believe me, those dumplings weren’t spicy. Can’t I share my food with you like the good friend I am?”
Chongyun blinks slowly. It’s the closest he can come to rolling his eyes. “I hope Xiangling put carrots in them,” he says, setting the dumplings in front of Xingqiu and reclaiming the bowl of cold noodles.
“She wouldn’t!” Xingqiu gives the dumpling a hesitant poke. “At least, I hope not.”
Chongyun goes back the rest of his lunch with a huff, blissfully ignorant of Xingqiu’s brewing scheme. Xingqiu does not hold the reigning title of Chongyun’s best and closest friend for no reason. And as Chongyun’s best and closest friend, it is his sworn duty to prank him.
He puts on his nicest, most innocent smile. “Are you really not gonna try my dumplings, Chongyun? They’re really good!”
Chongyun looks up from his half-finished noodles. “Xingqiu, I would trust you with anything, even my life, except that.”
“They’ve cooled down,” Xingqiu wheedles. “I know you can’t have hot food.”
“I hope I’m entitled to compensation when this is another one of your schemes.” Chongyun places his chopsticks on his bowl. “Because it will be.”
Xingqiu gives him a winning smile. “You won’t regret this.”
He delicately picks up a Jade parcel from his plate, and after surreptitiously dabbing it in a saucer of chili oil, holds it up to Chongyun’s face. “Say ‘ah’!”
Chongyun’s brow furrow. “Do I have to—“
“Yes.”
Chongyun’s eyes flick to the table. His face is pink even though he still hasn’t eaten the dumpling Xingqiu is holding, which is dangerously close to collapse.
Eventually, he sighs, and accepts his fate. Such was the nature of being best friends with Xingqiu. Chongyun of all people would have plenty of experience.
One coughing fit, two glasses of iced water, and three laughed-out apologies later, Xingqiu and Chongyun are back to calmly enjoying their food.
Chongyun’s compensation had come in the form of his entitlement to free ice-cream for a week, which he invoked immediately after the incident. So now they each have a bowl of shaved ice, courtesy of Xingqiu’s wallet.
There’s still a red flush high on Chongyun’s cheeks, though his improved control over his energy meant he was still mostly his usual self.
“Was the dumpling good?”
Chongyun glares, but there’s no heat behind it. Xingqiu grins in response.
“…yes.” Chongyun scoops up another spoonful of shaved ice. “I liked it.”
Xingqiu laughs. “Told you you wouldn’t regret it.”
“Well, I do. The only good thing to come out of this is the free ice-cream.” Chongyun narrows his eyes. “You better keep your promises.”
“Ah, alright, I’ll allow you to extort me for free desserts. You’ll have to stick around me all the time, though, to make the most of your deal.” Xingqiu grins. “Guess we’ll be hanging out more this week, then.”
Chongyun sighs, but there’s a fond tilt to his mouth. “I’m not getting rid of you, am I?”
“No way. You’re too much fun to tease.”
—
One day they were strangers, and the next they were inseparable. Xingqiu isn’t sure how it happened, just that it did. He never questioned it, really. It just felt right.
(It still does.)
—
Xingqiu takes his role as Chongyun’s best and closest friend very seriously, though he admits he enjoys the privilege that comes with the job.
One of his key tasks is to make Chongyun happy. He knows his favourite foods, pastimes, places to go, et cetera. He knows how to cheer him up when he’s down, the exact words of encouragement Chongyun needs to hear.
He knows that Chongyun enjoys looking for spirits, and pays special attention to any rumours he hears on the wind.
He also knows it’s long been a sore spot that Chongyun, for all his training and dedication, has never even seen a wisp of a ghost-fire. It fuels him on his hunt for any relevant intel, potential sightings and exorcisms.
Xingqiu passes the bulletin board, and pins up his latest rumour. A haunting at the outskirts of Wuwang Hill. Vague enough to sound mysterious, while not specific enough to seem made-up.
Chongyun tells him about the rumour during their next lunch with bright eyes.
“I got another tip from that anonymous source again,” says Chongyun over lunch. “A haunting at the outskirts of Wuwang Hill.”
“Oh really?” Xingqiu hides his smile behind a spoonful of rice. “How much?”
“It’s just a sighting, not a commission,” Chongyun replies. “Do you think I’ll actually find a ghost?”
“I hope you do,” Xingqiu says, sincere.
It always makes him feel just a smidge guilty whenever Chongyun talks so enthusiastically about something he made up, but Chongyun seems to enjoy the hunt itself; following a trail of clues and rumours both true and false.
Besides, there’s always a chance he’ll encounter a stray ghost in Wuwang, according to Hu Tao, at least. It would be the safer option as opposed to personally setting up traps in some abandoned house, which usually yields.. less than ideal results.
One of these days he’ll hunt a ghost down himself for Chongyun to exorcise. Now that would make an interesting field trip.
(If you were to ask Xingqiu, even he wouldn't know the exact moment Chongyun became his best and closest friend. It just happened, somewhere along the long summer days spent playing on the streets of Liyue; moments spent hiding from the wrath of Xingqiu’s parents, hunting down ghosts and spirits in the old docks.
Somewhere along the line, Xingqiu had decided that it would be the two of them against the world, and everything else just fell into place.)
—
Another key role Xingqiu performs is standing up for Chongyun, whenever it is needed. He usually finds himself in this position after whatever wild goose chase he’s sent Chongyun on ultimately fails.
“How much did you pay those guys?”
“A couple thousand mora? They said—“
“A couple thousand?”
“They said they had intel on the spirit! They told me it was sighted around the abandoned shrine—“
“That information isn't worth that much mora!”
“I thought so too, but they wouldn’t say anything unless I paid them…” Chongyun wrings his hands. “And I didn’t find anything in the end as well.”
Xingqiu winces. Oh well.
“Don’t worry, Yun, I’ll get you your money back.” Xingqiu clasps Chongyun’s hands in his. “But first, let’s get shaved ice. My treat.”
See, the thing is, it is uniquely his privilege as Chongyun’s best and closest friend to prank him. No one else. It is equally his duty to ensure no one else took advantage of Chongyun’s trusting nature.
And as Xingqiu takes his job very seriously, there is no length he wouldn’t go to ensure his duty is carried out.
Which is why he finds himself wandering through the outskirts of Wuwang Hill one sunny afternoon, sword held securely in his hand.
The wind whistles through the blades of grass. Somewhere in the distance he hears the faint rush of water over stone. Birds sing from the underbrush. Amongst them, Xingqiu hears voices. He follows.
Just up ahead, three men rest beneath the crooked branches of a twisted oak. The leader wears an eyepatch.
One of them is fiddling with a familiar-looking talisman.
Xingqiu narrows his eyes. Treasure hoarders. Apparently not above conning the occasional exorcist. He tucks his sword behind him and approaches as casually as he can.
“Good day, fellow travellers,” Xingqiu says loudly. All three snap their beady eyes towards him. He puts on a friendly smile. “Would you be so kind as to offer me some directions?”
“You lost, kid?” The one on the left sneers. He has a chip in his tooth.
“If you are then you’ve been real lucky so far,” says the man with the eyepatch. “Monsters roam these parts freely.” He grins. “But hey, we know the area pretty well, so we’ll give you some directions. For a fee, of course.”
“That sounds wonderful,” says Xingqiu. “You see, I’ve heard from a friend that spirits are a common sight around these parts. Would it trouble you to accompany me into the woods and find a spirit or two?”
“Spirits? Don’t be ridiculous.” Eyepatch’s face sours. “Do I look like an adepti to—“
“Do I look like an idiot?” Xingqiu smiles. “Those spirits must be quite rare too, to be worth, say, a couple thousand mora.”
A flicker of recognition. “Listen, kid, I really don’t know who you heard this from, but—“
“You should really stop spreading baseless rumours if you can’t prove them.” Xingqiu reaches for his sword, its blade singing in the air. “Now, I believe you owe my friend a couple thousand mora?”
Eyepatch leaps to his feet, reaching for a crossbow. The other two follow, with matching scowls on their faces. “It’s really none of your business, kid,” he says. “We asked for mora and he paid. Fair and square.”
“I didn’t know it was fair to charge someone for false information,” Xingqiu says. “And it’s plenty of my business. No one swindles my friend and gets away with it.”
“And what are you gonna do about it?” Eyepatch spits. “Defending your friend’s honour, are you? Kids like you are all talk.”
“Very well,” says Xingqiu. He leaps, a brilliant arc of water rending the air in two. “Allow me to prove you wrong.“
Xingqiu generally doesn’t use violence to solve his problems if other solutions are available; he also generally makes exceptions for con men who swindle money out of his best and closest friend.
He flicks the water droplets from his hair, watching them glitter in the sunlight like crystals, and stows away his blade, rolling up his now damp sleeves.
The three men are crumpled on the floor and soaked to the bone, courtesy of Xingqiu’s rain-swords. He easily plucks a mora pouch from Eyepatch, counting the coins before scattering the excess at their feet.
He smiles down at them with the most courteous smile he can muster, the one he saves specifically for the business partners that he dislikes the most. “Unlike you, I’m not a scammer, so I’ve only taken the amount my friend is owed. Here’s the rest of your mora.”
He nudges a coin towards Eyepatch’s still twitching finger with the point of his shoe and looks him in the eye with a sunny grin. “Safe travels!”
When Xingqiu slides the mora pouch across the table, Chongyun’s eyes light up. “How did you…”
“I have my ways,” Xingqiu says with a tired smile. “Please don’t give away money to strangers anymore.”
“It was for a cause!”
(Such was the nature of things: Xingqiu had Chongyun’s back, and Chongyun had his. Two halves of a matching whole.)
—
For all that the world is constantly changing, Xingqiu had always assumed that his friendship with Chongyun would not. To him it is a fact of life, as true and enduring as the sky was blue and the mountains that stood proud in Liyue’s valleys. It is something that just was.
But then again, one of the facts of life he had lived by were the gods that presided over his nation, and look how that ended up.
In the wake of Rex Lapis’s death and funeral, Liyue has changed. On the surface, life carries on in the harbour in its usual, hurried pace, but beneath it, he knows things will never be the same again. After Osial, the harbour has returned to normalcy, but—
Some things just don’t go back to the way they used to be. The way people carry themselves in the streets, the way they perceive their world; it’s not enough to make a noticeable difference, but all the same, it’s like the earth beneath their feet has tilted just a single degree off its axis, and they are left attempting to regain their balance.
—
“So,” Chongyun says over lunch one day, “I got asked out the other day.”
Xingqiu drops the crystal shrimp in his chopsticks. “You what?”
Chongyun’s gaze is glued to his bowl of noodles like it’s the most interesting thing to ever exist. “It’s not that much of a surprise, is it?”
“It’s not, but…” Xingqiu pauses. A strange prickly feeling worms under his skin. “You…you usually don’t respond to romantic advances, like…at all.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Like,” Xingqiu says, “when people try to flirt with you, you usually… react coldly, so I assumed you weren’t interested in dating.”
Chongyun stares blankly. “…do I give off such an impression?”
Knowing him, he probably wasn’t even aware they were flirting. The feeling grows, and he recognises it as discomfort.
It’s probably just because he hasn’t expected this. They practically never broach upon the topic of romance, ever. Realistically, he knows it's an inevitable part of growing up; but with Chongyun, he had always assumed their friendship was enough. That he would be enough.
Xingqiu sits up. “Nevermind that.” He puts aside the growing knot in his stomach and grins as obnoxiously as he can. “What’re they like?”
Chongyun’s face flushes, a delicate silk flower-pink blooming on his porcelain skin. “His name is Huang.”
“Mhm.” Xingqiu props his chin onto his hand. “How’d you meet?”
“…I met him on an exorcism,” says Chongyun. “He watched me work, told me he was impressed, and asked if we could have dinner on the weekend, during the Yuanxiao festival.”
Xingqiu nods at all the right parts, a coo leaving his lips. “How charming!”
Chongyun looks as though he’s about to burst into flames. He’s already reaching for an ice lolly. “It was alright.”
Something squirms uncomfortably in his stomach, heavy and dense, but he ignores it in favour of embarrassing his friend. “I can’t believe you’re the first of us to get a date,” Xingqiu says. “Hey, Xiangling!”
The flush drains abruptly from Chongyun’s face. “Oh no.”
Xiangling bounds over with startling enthusiasm from someone stuck in lunch rush hour. She’s still holding a bowl of half-stirred eggs, the other hand frantically beating them.
“Someone called?” A dash of flour is streaked across her cheek.
Xingqiu smirks. Chongyun buries his face in his hands in despair. “Rex Lapis help me.”
“Guess who’s got a date!”
Xiangling blinks, but then her eyes go wide. “No way,” she breathes, her face lighting up in a disbelieving grin. “You actually—“ She shakes her head. “Congrats, you two! You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for you to—“
“Wait, you knew?” Xingqiu turns to Chongyun. “You told her about him already?”
Chongyun shakes his head in mild confusion.
Xiangling’s smile falters. “Told me what?”
“Chongyun’s got a date,” says Xingqiu, grinning when Chongyun’s face flames. “Some guy named Huang. They’re going to dinner this weekend!”
She frowns at the two of them, her eyes flicking back and forth. Her mouth forms an ‘o’. “So…” she starts. “Chongyun’s got a date with—with Huang?”
“That’s right,” says Xingqiu. “Isn’t that exciting?”
“I suppose,” Xiangling tries for enthusiasm. It’s not particularly convincing. She just looks confused.
Xingqiu tries valiantly to keep smiling, but the more he tries, the less sincere it feels, and—
Xingqiu is happy for Chongyun, he really is! As his bestest and closest friend, he should be overjoyed that Chongyun has found a potential partner.
Well, maybe he won’t be Chongyun’s best and closest friend anymore, all things considered. Huang would probably take his place, and be the one responsible for making sure Chongyun was happy.
The thought forms a bitter lump at his throat and he stares at his crystal shrimps, their taste turning to ash in his mouth.
That’s okay, he thinks. Chongyun will still be there for him. They’ll still be friends, just not…best friends. Not the way they were now. Which is fine, of course, if it means Chongyun will be happy. If Chongyun is happy, then Xingqiu should be too.
Xiangling is still looking at the two of them with a strange, conflicted expression. She opens her mouth, and then seems to think better of it.
“Congratulations, Chongyun,” she finally says, with a smile that almost seems polite. “I hope you have a great time on your date!”
Chongyun nods with a shy smile. “I hope so too.”
Xingqiu wants to wish Chongyun good luck, but something heavy sits at the base of his throat and when he tries to speak, nothing comes out at all.
Then he catches a whiff of smoke, and evidently, so does Xiangling, because her eyes widen comically.
“I left the stove on!” She cries, and nearly drops her now fully beaten eggs on the ground in her attempt to dash back to the kitchens. “Tell me how it goes!” She calls out, before she ducks into the shop.
They turn back to their food, the excitement of the news fading into normalcy, or something like it. The air between them feels heavy with words left unsaid, leaving them in a thick silence that envelops their table.
Xingqiu forces himself to swallow his crystal shrimp as his mind scrambles for something to say. “Chongyun—“ he starts.
“Xingqiu.”
Chongyun is looking at him with those piercing blue eyes, the colour of first frost, and they are staring at him as though he were transparent.
Xingqiu freezes. “Yeah?”
Chongyun’s brow furrows. “Are you okay?”
He blinks. “Of—of course I am.”
Chongyun’s frown deepens.
“In fact,” Xingqiu says, “I should be the one asking you! Are you at all prepared for your date?”
Chongyun still doesn’t look convinced. He accepts the topic change anyway, to Xingqiu’s immense relief. “Prepare? I thought I just had to show up.”
Xingqiu gasps. “That’s so unromantic,” he says. “Haven’t you read a single romance novel?” He receives a blank stare in response.
“Well,” Xingqiu declares, “as your best and closest friend, I am not letting you sabotage your own chances. I’m coming over to help you get ready.”
Chongyun sighs, but he doesn’t object. “There’s no stopping you, is there?”
Xingqiu smiles, and it feels more genuine than all his previous ones added together. “By the time I’m done, you’re gonna sweep Huang off his feet.”
—
By Saturday, even Chongyun’s perpetual poker face had cracked to show his nerves. As promised, Xingqiu shows up bright and early at the Chonghua Manor and proceeds to bug Chongyun for the rest of the day. What kind of friend would he be if he didn’t get personally involved in such a momentous occasion for Chongyun?
Chongyun stubbornly sticks to his usual routine, and Xingqiu is stuck watching him train for the most part of the morning while the aunties fawn over him as they trade gossip over tea.
“One of Auntie Liu’s cousins broke up with her fifth boyfriend because he couldn’t use chopsticks,” Xingqiu says to Chongyun when he finishes going through his forms.
Chongyun hoists his great sword to the racks. “Already?” His pale skin is flushed with a sheen of sweat, strands of his blue hair stuck to his forehead.
Xingqiu swallows. “I know,” he says, flicking his gaze to a particularly interesting potted plant. “Last I heard he bought her a limited edition jade pin that she’d shown off at the community hall.”
“But he can’t even bring himself to learn how to use chopsticks?”
Xingqiu hums. “Definitely reminds you of a certain someone, doesn’t it?”
Chongyun grimaces. “We really shouldn’t bother with other people’s business…”
“Well, Xiangling says that diplomat got a pair of Phoenix-dragon chopsticks for the consultant. Chopsticks that he couldn’t even use!”
Chongyun sighs. “My aunties are a bad influence on you.”
—
They decide to get lunch in town, which really just means they’re going to Wanmin’s to say hello to (read:bother) Xiangling.
“So,” says Xingqiu as he decisively plunks a chilli-free dumpling into Chongyun’s plate, “here’s the plan.”
Chongyun looks up, cold noodles halfway to his mouth. “Plan?”
Xingqiu nods. “I’ve named it the Get Chongyun a date Operation, and it’s bound to be a success if I, your beloved friend, am in charge of it.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Enlighten me.”
“After lunch, we will head to Wanwen’s bookhouse to research typical romantic encounters in order to prepare you for your evening.”
Chongyun’s brow furrows. “Research? You make this sound like a project or something. I’m just going on a—on a date.” His face pinks at the word.
Xingqiu grins. “We’ll be reading romance novels!”
“Are you sure they offer an entirely realistic depiction of an actual date?”
“Trust me, they give the best advice.”
“Right,” Chongyun says, nodding slowly. “Definitely. This is not because you’ve been looking forward to the new shipment that’s just arrived this week—“
“It has? I mean—” Xingqiu sits back down and swallows back another squeal of excitement. “No, it’s not because of the new shipment. I promise I’m doing this for your good, and your good only.”
Chongyun gives a noncommittal hum. “We’ll see.”
“You wound me, Yunyun,” Xingqiu says. Chongyun doesn’t even blink. “But anyway, the next phase of the operation—“
“Operation doesn’t seem like the right word,” Chongyun says. “It’s too formal, considering this is just an excuse for you to get me to read your favourite romance novels.” His brows knit. “Maybe ‘schedule’ would work better?”
“Anyway,” says Xingqiu, “after our research, which is very formal and entirely necessary, we’ll go to your place and figure out your presentation.”
Chongyun visibly pales. “Oh no.”
“Oh yes,” Xingqiu says gleefully. He waves a dumpling in Chongyun’s general direction. “Your outfit is key. And no, I’m not letting you go to your first date in your street clothes.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my street clothes!”
He shakes his head with a sigh. “First impressions matter, Yunyun.” Spotting a familiar apron in the distance, he calls out, “Xiangling, tell him!”
Xiangling whirls around, the bells at her back tinkling. “Tell him what?” She shouts back.
“We’re picking out an outfit for his date tonight,” says Xingqiu, hands cupped around his mouth. “What colours do you think would suit him?”
“My normal clothes are fine,” Chongyun protests.
Xiangling shrugs. “Just wear something you’re comfortable in!”
“Thank you.”
“But definitely shake things up a little. You could do something with your hair?”
“Your hair, of course!” Xingqiu claps his hands together. “I haven’t even considered that!”
“Not helping,” Chongyun calls out to Xiangling, who gives them a cheerful thumbs-up before bustling back into the kitchen. “My hair is fine. I’ll put on a new top, but that’s it.”
Xingqiu smiles serenely. “We’ll see, Yunyun, we’ll see.”
Chongyun huffs and goes back to his noodles.
(When Xiangling comes to collect their dishes, she gives Xingqiu a strange look, the same one she’d given him when Chongyun made his announcement. She looks as if she's going to say something, but shakes her head at the last minute and wishes them luck instead.)
—
In all seriousness, Xingqiu truly wants the date to go off without a hitch. He knows this is Chongyun’s first time, which is special to him, and therefore by extension it is special to Xingqiu.
Besides, he’ll gladly fuss over the small details if only to temporarily ignore the giant, overthinking elephant that would otherwise occupy all of his thoughts.
Of course they’d still be friends. Of course they’d still hang out. It will be the same as it always has been. Xingqiu has Chongyun, and Chongyun has Xingqiu. This is and always will be fact.
But what if they’re no longer as close as they are now? What if they drift apart? What if instead of Xingqiu, it is Chongyun’s new boyfriend who will hold pranking privileges, and see the small smile Chongyun wears whenever he talks about spirits? Will he do as good of a job Xingqiu has done protecting Chongyun from conmen? Will he find spirits for Chongyun to exorcise?
He shoves these thoughts aside, sealing them neatly in a box that he shelves away for future Xingqiu to deal with, while present Xingqiu focuses on the light novel he’s scanning through mindlessly.
Right. He’s looking for pick-up lines for Chongyun’s date. Next to him, Chongyun is flipping through a thick volume with an increasingly incredulous expression.
He firmly ignores the voice that tells him this will be the last afternoon they’ll spend together, as just Xingqiu and Chongyun, before everything changes.
That is a problem for future Xingqiu. For now, he’ll focus on the small things, like what colour Chongyun should wear, because these things come with less implications and he can ignore what’s really happening just for a few more hours, like the coward he is.
“This is ridiculous,” says Chongyun, and Xingqiu snaps out of his reverie. He snaps the light novel shut. None of it was going into his head anyway. Chongyun wrinkles his nose at the book he’s holding, which is, objectively, unfairly cute, but—
“How am I supposed to live up to this?” Chongyun shakes his head. “Xingqiu, please don’t tell me I’m expected to sacrifice myself for my date.”
“I don’t know, if the situation calls for it—“
“Xingqiu. I’m not jumping in front of a ruin guard for Huang.”
“Say, if ruin guards were to descend on the streets of Liyue, that would be the courteous and romantic thing to do.” He slides his light novel back into the shelf. “Besides, I’ve seen you fight. You could take a ruin guard.”
“Not unarmed! Do you expect me to bring my claymore to my date?”
“You might need it if ruin guards come wandering in.”
“And—“ Chongyun flips through the book again. “This says the protagonist took a knife for the love interest! I’m not going to get stabbed, am I?”
“You should always be prepared for any situation, Yunyun, just saying.” Xingqiu takes the book, glancing at the synopsis. He thinks he’s read this before; he’s pretty sure the protagonist gets revived in the end.
“Besides,” he continues, putting the novel back in place, “what I wanted us to look over was more along the lines of general conversation. What you might talk about, the way you conduct yourself in order to give off a good impression.”
Chongyun hums. “That sounds more useful than a grand sacrifice.”
Xingqiu nods wisely. “Ever heard of pick-up lines?”
Half an hour later, when it became clear that Chongyun could not stomach even saying one of the lines Xingqiu had found out loud without furiously blushing and risk triggering his condition, Xingqiu officially declares Phase 1 of the Operation over.
“I hope my suffering was worth it,” Chongyun mutters as they head out of the bookhouse, mouthing apologies to the owner who is scowling at the two of them over the register. Oops.
“It was,” Xingqiu says solemnly. “I always appreciate free entertainment.”
He receives a light shove for that, which, fair, but it doesn’t stop the growing smile on his face.
“Wait,” says Chongyun. They stop at the stairs.
He points to the display shelves at the front. “Isn’t that the book you wanted?”
Xingqiu lights up when he spots the title. “The new shipment!” He claps a hand to his mouth when the lady directs her scowl towards him. “Sorry,” he whispers, “but—yeah! That’s it. Chongyun, you have no idea how long I’ve waited for a sequel, it felt like forever.”
“It’s a few months at most,” Chongyun says with a shrug.
“Do not make light of my struggle,” Xingqiu says. “I have suffered many a sleepless night, kept awake by that dreadful cliffhanger, where—“
“I’ll get it for you.”
“Where the hero must choose—wait, what?”
Chongyun is already at the register, book in hand and counting the mora from his pouch. “Thank you,” he says politely to the lady, whose scowl fades because Chongyun is too nice for anyone to stay mad at; after which he heads back over to Xingqiu, who is still rooted to the spot, with the newly purchased book. “Here.”
Xingqiu takes the precious book with careful hands. “Chongyun,” he says, wide-eyed. “I meant it when I said we were coming here for you, you know.” He doesn’t know why he says that when a simple thank you would have sufficed.
It’s probably because it’s Chongyun. Chongyun tends to do unexpectedly nice things randomly, and Xingqiu is caught off guard every single time despite their years of friendship.
Chongyun shrugs like he hasn’t just made Xingqiu’s week, maybe even month. “Well, we were here anyway, so you might as well get it.”
Xingqiu hugs the book to his chest, feeling strangely light. “Thank you,” he says, though now the words feel too small.
“Don’t stay up late reading,” Chongyun says. “ I’m saying this because I know you will definitely try to finish that entire book by sunrise tomorrow.” His eyes narrow. “Don't.”
Xingqiu laughs, linking their arms together as they stroll off into the streets, the sunshine feeling particularly warm on his skin. “It’s not like I’ve ever been caught!”
—
Phase two: presentation.
The sun is descending from its peak when they get back to Chongyun’s place, the harsh noon rays mellowing out into the golden tint of late afternoon sunshine.
After properly greeting the elders they’ve bumped into upon arrival, the two had made a straight beeline for Chongyun’s room, where Xingqiu is now rifling through Chongyun’s closet with increasing levels of frustration and despondency.
He shoves aside another hoodie with a huff. “Do you not own any formal clothing? Like, at all?”
“I don’t regularly attend high-society events and business meetings like you, Young master,” Chongyun retorts from where he’s sat on the bed, holding onto an assortment of garments Xingqiu had deemed sufficient for the occasion.
He pulls out another white shirt with blue hemming, one he’s certain he’s seen at least twice already, and tosses it towards Chongyun’s general direction. “There’s no variety,” he complains. “We need something special. Not too grand, but distinct enough to make you stand out.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Xingqiu slams the closet shut. Anymore of this and he’ll get deja vu. “It’s like…you can’t make it too obvious that you’re trying to impress him, but you are, in fact, trying to impress him. You know?”
“I do not, in fact, know,” says Chongyun, who is laying out all the chosen options onto his bed. “But lead the way, I guess.”
Xingqiu frowns. The choices, admittedly, were limited. “This is just a variety of white shirts, Chongyun.”
“You picked them out.”
“Well, yes, because they’re nice, white suits you perfectly fine, but…” He picks up two of the shirts and looks at them side by side. “They lack that distinct touch.”
Chongyun gives him a deadpan look. “I didn’t know you were a stylist, Xingqiu.”
“I’m not, I just have good fashion taste,” he returns. “All those high society meetings did wonders in curating my sense of style.”
He sighs. “At this point, I’m considering lending you one of my fancier jackets. Though the colours wouldn’t suit you at all, and the cut…”
“It’s not that big of a deal, surely,” says Chongyun. “I can just—“
“Maybe my brother would have some old shirts that no longer fit him? But then again his sense of fashion is terribly gaudy, half the stuff he owns are in gold and silver, and I don’t want you to look like you’re encased in a shell of mora. Maybe—“
Xingqiu pauses. He reaches for a corner of dark fabric beneath the pile of white shirts amassed on the bed. “What’s this?”
“A gift from a distant relative, I think,” says Chongyun. “You know I can’t really wear dark colours in the sun, so I’ve never worn it.”
Xingqiu pulls it out. It’s a lovely silk shirt, smooth navy fabric with silver embroidery at the hem and neckline, reaching up the sides to mimic tendrils of crystalline frost, the swirling patterns embedded in sheets of ice.
His eyes gleam. Perfect.
He throws the shirt towards Chongyun, who catches it with hesitant eyes. “I don’t know, Xingqiu..”
“Your date is during the evening, Chongyun,” he says. “I don’t think your condition will be an issue.”
He scoops up the rest of the clothes and dumps them in a semi neat pile by the closet. “Try it on first!” He ducks behind the door, offering Chongyun a reassuring smile, who is currently frowning down at the dark fabric.
A few moments later, Xingqiu hears Chongyun’s muffled affirmative and slips back in, eyes closed. “You decent?”
“You can open your eyes now,” he hears Chongyun say, a little strained, and so he does.
The first thought he has is to mentally congratulate past Xingqiu on his fashion sense.
The second thought is lost because after the first, his mind immediately blanks, like a strong breeze had scattered all of his coherent thoughts.
“Well? Xingqiu?”
Xingqiu snaps back. “This is…this is perfect,” he says, a little lost for words, which almost never happens to him, but he supposes there’s always a first. Especially when it concerns Chongyun.
Right now, all he can focus on is how the dark navy of the fabric brings out the blue in Chongyun’s eyes.
Chongyun shifts slightly. “You sure?”
Xingqiu nods, a bit too quickly. “You look—“
He looks away. His chest feels too-tight with an emotion he can’t name. “You look fine.”
After that, all that’s left are final touch-ups. Chongyun had refused to let Xingqiu meddle with his hair too much—he settles for sliding two silver pins on the side of his bangs. Xingqiu also manages to convince Chongyun into putting on a bit of eyeliner, leaving a red tint at the corner of his eyes.
He tries not to stare too much, but there’s something about Chongyun in eyeliner that makes every single one of his thoughts evaporate.
He has Chongyun spin around a couple times before he gives his official stamp of approval. He nods. “You look very cool,” he says.
“Thanks,” says Chongyun, fidgeting with a button on his jacket. Maybe it’s just the dark fabric, but he looks paler than usual.
Xingqiu pauses. “Need me to go over some conversation starters with you?”
“No,” says Chongyun. His voice is trembling just a bit. “No, it’ll be fine.”
They head to the door, or more accurately, Xingqiu drags him to the door, and step out into the cool, violet dusk.
“Okay,” says Xingqiu once they’re outside. “Something’s wrong.” He says it with all the certainty of someone who knows Chongyun’s tells inside and out. Right now he’s avoiding Xingqiu’s gaze, which basically confirms his suspicions. “Do you not like your clothes? Are they uncomfortable?”
Chongyun seems to realise this, because he sags a bit, eyes glancing up but still refusing to look him in the eye. “It’s not that…it’s just…”
He picks at the hem of his shirt. “What if it’s too much?”
“It’s not. You look perfectly respectable,” Xingqiu says. “Very dashing.”
Chongyun gives him a wry smile. “I certainly don’t feel dashing. I feel like a child playing dress-up.”
“This is the right amount of fancy, I’m telling you.” Xingqiu meets Chongyun’s eyes, a familiar frost-blue, and gives him a reassuring smile. “Just enjoy the evening.”
He nods shakily. “Yeah. Okay.”
“You’re going to have a great time,” says Xingqiu, ignoring the way his heart squeezes at the words. “Both of you.”
Chongyun’s eyes drop. Xingqiu reaches for his hand and gives it a tight squeeze.
“He asked you out for a reason,” he says softly. “So you don’t need to worry about being anything other than yourself, because that’s what he’ll appreciate the most.”
Chongyun’s wavering expression melts into a small, genuine smile, and it lights up his whole face in tentative hope. “You and your words. How do you always know what to say?”
Xingqiu smiles back despite the bitter taste it leaves on his tongue. Before he can think better of it, he reaches up to tuck a stray strand of Chongyun’s hair away from his face. His fingers tingle where they meet skin.
For a moment their eyes meet and all he can see is the blue of winter skies. Then Xingqiu looks away, and the moment shatters like glass.
Chongyun glances at the sky.
“I’m going to be late,” he says, his face paling.
“Go,” Xingqiu urges, going for an encouraging smile. It must have worked, he thinks, when he sees Chongyun’s eyes soften. “Have fun with your date.”
Chongyun peels away from him with a small, grateful smile. “I will.”
Something in Xingqiu’s chest constricts. He smiles until Chongyun disappears around the bend.
“Tell me how it goes tomorrow!”
—
The Yuanxiao Festival is always a time of cheer. Colourful lanterns are strung above the streets, bobbing in the wind, painting the night air in a warm golden lustre. Xingqiu weaves past the crowd, past couples with intertwined hands, and children that laugh as they dart between them.
In spite of the crowds, he feels oddly empty. Maybe it’s because he’s grown used to Chongyun’s company. It has always been Xingqiu who had dragged Chongyun out during festivals despite the other’s reservations. He knows how hard Chongyun tries to control his Yang energy, and how it sometimes comes with its loneliness—no loud parties, no overly exciting events. It’s up to Xingqiu to make sure that from time to time, he gets to enjoy himself.
But now, he turns, expecting to see Chongyun’s placid expression, and sees a wave of strangers.
He passes by a smiling couple, with matching rosy cheeks, and thinks of Chongyun and his date. The thought of seeing Chongyun here, with someone else next to him, smiling, turns his insides, both with guilt and something darker that he tries to keep in the recesses of his mind. No, it’s best if he doesn’t try to put a name to it.
Maybe he should go find Xiangling. If nothing else, trying her new recipes will make her happy and distract him from his unpleasant thoughts with more unpleasant tastes.
He peers over a sea of heads, heading towards the general direction of Chihu rock.
He pauses just outside a set of ornate doors, the interior lit in a golden glow, the light spilling out from the windows into two yellow squares on the ground, and in the haze of his thoughts he recognises that this is where Chongyun is having his date.
(‘He’s taking you to Xinyue Kiosk? That’s so fancy!’
‘He insisted.’
‘Xiangling will be hurt if you don't come to Wanmin’s. Besides, isn’t that place, like, permanently full? How’d he even manage to book a place?’
‘…At least Xiangling won’t be able to interfere.’ )
Xingqiu steps closer to the windows, his throat tight.
Just a peek. If Chongyun is happy, then he’ll leave them alone. He can be reassured that he’s left his best and closest friend in good hands.
He’s about to speak to the hostess, who’s currently glaring at him, her mouth pinched, when the doors burst open of their own accord.
His heart plummets. It’s Chongyun.
Chongyun’s face is obscured from this angle, but he sees him hurry down the road, shoulders hunched.
A snicker sounds from his left. By the side of Xinyue Kiosk are three boys, their eyes following Chongyun’s form.
He recognises one of them.
(What’s he look like?
Well…
He’s this tall…dark hair, bronze skin…and his eyes are golden. Like…like cor lapis.)
Those cor-lapis eyes gleam with barely restrained amusement in the dim light. Next to him, another boy presses hand to his mouth as his form shakes with silent laughter.
Ah. He sees what’s going on here.
He thinks of Chongyun, his small smiles and earnest effort, his quiet anticipation for this very evening, and fumes.
How dare they.
Something ugly rears its head inside him, clawing up the sides of his stomach until he is shaking with its sheer intensity. He curls his hands into fists and takes a deep breath.
Chongyun takes priority.
He fixes his gaze on Chongyun’s disappearing form and follows, almost instinctively, and somewhere in his mind he already knows where they’re going.
(The sky is blue, the mountains have stood for centuries, and Xingqiu and Chongyun are best friends. That’s how it’s always been. It’s all he’s ever known.)
(Somewhere deep in him, he hopes that’s how it’ll always be.)
—
Above the chatter of the crowd he hears the dull crash of the waves against the harbour, the quiet murmur as the water swells and rises and falls in a continuous flow.
His vision pulses at his side as the wharf emerges in full view, the sea behind it a wide expanse of smooth black glass.
There’s a corner down by the docks, where a small, secluded wooden pier stretches out into the sea, away from the other ones, built from some bygone time, the planks creaky with age with algae creeping the the sides.
It’s the quietest spot in the wharf, and one that Xingqiu and Chongyun would frequent, particularly in their younger days. Xingqiu would read his martial novels, free from the prying eyes of his parents, while Chongyun recited his mantras.
They would sit on the very edge, legs dangling over the murky water, watching distant waves roll on the horizon, the faint clamour of the wharf at their backs. If they were feeling particularly adventurous, they’d lean forward to skim the tips of their shoes across the water, leaving ripples on the dark surface. Xingqiu would get in trouble for having his socks soaked with seawater. Chongyun had dropped an entire shoe into the sea once.
(It was due to a dare from Xingqiu. He had saved money to buy Chongyun a brand new pair afterwards.)
Xingqiu rounds the corner and makes his way down the narrow, winding docks before he spots a single figure sat on the edge of a familiar pier, almost indistinguishable from the shadows that wrap around them like a blanket.
Chongyun looks up with glassy eyes, and it feels like something in him breaks. “Hey, Xingqiu.”
Xingqiu sits down next to Chongyun and wordlessly pulls him to his side. Chongyun plops his head onto Xingqiu’s shoulder with a shaky exhale, curling up against him while Xingqiu rubs circles on his back, and it’s like they’re ten again, sitting pressed against each other and dipping feet into the sea-foam.
For a long moment they watch the sea, the moon a bright blot of yellow painted onto the surface, tracing the ripples on the water a pale silver-white.
“I feel stupid,” says Chongyun in a small voice.
“You’re not,” Xingqiu says, quiet but firm. “It’s not your fault. That was a cruel trick to play on anyone.”
“You wouldn’t have fallen for it.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Xingqiu says. “You couldn’t have known that he was an asshole. Neither did I.”
Chongyun lets out a bitter huff. “I suspected it, you know. That’s the worst part.” He takes in a shuddering inhale. “But I let myself believe him anyway. I really wanted him to mean it, even though I knew that was too good to be true.”
“Chongyun, what are you talking about?”
Chongyun exhales. “Be honest, Xingqiu,” he says quietly. “I shouldn’t have expected him to actually mean it. Why would anyone like me like that?”
“That’s ridiculous, Chongyun,” Xingqiu says, frowning. “Why wouldn’t anyone like you? You’re a great person!”
Chongyun’s responding sigh is unconvinced.
Xingqiu sits up. He will not stand for any sort of slander towards his best friend, especially if it came from said best friend himself.
“How can you not know how great you are?” He holds up his fingers to keep count. “You’re a hardworking and talented exorcist who works hard regardless of your condition. You’re dedicated to do it the right way. You always do the right thing because you’re brave and honourable. Most of all, you’re an amazing friend. I mean, you’ve put up with all my pranks for years now.”
Chongyun looks up with a faint smile. “So you admit you do prank me.”
“My point still stands,” Xingqiu says, feeling a smile creep up on his face as well. “As someone who’s been your best friend for the past 6 years, I have on good authority that you are a wonderful person who deserves better than this lying bitch.”
He stares down at the rippled surface of the sea, and meets the gaze of his own distorted reflection. “Someday, you will find someone just as wonderful as you who can see you for who you are.”
Chongyun closes his eyes. “You sound so sure about that.”
“Of course I’m sure,” says Xingqiu without hesitation. “If no one can see how great you are, it’s their loss. I’ll get to keep you then.”
“You really think that?”
“What?”
Chongyun meets his gaze, eyes glinting like silver glass in the night. “That someone will like me for who I am.”
Xingqiu grins. “Mhm. I’m sure of it.”
He reaches for Chongyun’s hand and gives it a light squeeze. Chongyun’s eyes are still wet, but he squeezes back.
“You know,” says Xingqiu. “It’s a lovely night. We shouldn’t be moping at an abandoned pier.”
“It’s not like I’ve got anything planned,” Chongyun says dryly.
“You’ve been looking forward to the festival the whole week,” Xingqiu says. “It would be a shame if you don’t actually get to enjoy it because of him. Assholes like him shouldn't ruin such a nice evening.”
Chongyun huffs. “What are you proposing?”
He stands and offers Chongyun a hand and an encouraging grin. “What do you say we go have fun at the Festival without him?”
Chongyun’s lips twitch upward in a ghost of a smile. “I could use a distraction.”
Xingqiu squeezes their intertwined hands, a bubble of warmth blossoming inside him. “We can get Bing Tang Hu Lao. That’ll make you feel better.”
Chongyun nods, surer now, and gives Xingqiu a shaky smile. “I’d like that.”
They spend the evening flitting from stall to stall at Xingqiu’s whim, Chongyun always a step behind, wearing a steadily growing smile. At Xingqiu’s insistence, they have a go at riddle solving. Xingqiu wins a paper charm, which he gifts to Chongyun. Chongyun in turn tries a darts game and wins them each a piece of ginger candy. Xingqiu wheedles Chongyun into trying a bite of his spicy tofu, after which Chongyun makes use of his ice-cream privileges.
At some point Chongyun had taken his hand into his own. He tells him it’s “so we don’t get separated.”
Xingqiu stares at their intertwined hands while Chongyun peers ahead, trying to catch a glimpse of a so-called exorcist’s performance.
The world fades into a blur of noise and multicoloured light, until all that’s left is the sensation of Chongyun’s hand in his.
Oh.
Warmth blossoms in his chest, quiet, soft, like a silk-flower slowly unfurling its petals to drink in the light of the sun.
He’s always expected something dramatic, for it to feel like fireworks or at the very least, maybe some fanfare. A drumroll, perhaps.
It just feels natural. Like it’s always been there, sprouting, growing, blooming, and he’s just now only noticed.
Chongyun looks back at him, the golden light of the surrounding lanterns reflected in his eyes like trapped stars. There’s a small tilt to his mouth, radiating a quiet contentment.
Xingqiu smiles back, and for that moment, it’s only the two of them in the entire world.
—
It’s late in the night when the two of them stumble into Wanmin’s, arm in arm, quiet laughter spilling from their lips.
The crowds have long dispersed, the stalls lining the streets closing up one by one. The lanterns bob above empty streets, multicoloured stars in the dimming city.
Wanmin’s itself still hosts a good amount of guests, red-faced men and women nursing their drinks exchanging muted conversation. Xiangling herself doesn’t work the night shift; she’s shuffling out from the counter with a yawn and a stretch when she spots the two of them by the door.
“Hey,” says Xingqiu, suddenly aware of Chongyun’s warmth pressing against his side when several pairs of curious eyes swing towards their direction.
Xiangling ushers them to the outdoors seating with a few mouthed words to her father, who nods with a wry smile.
She practically shoves them to their usual table and pulls over a stool with a painfully loud screech. She plops down, shooting a glare across the table. “Explain.”
“Well,” Chongyun starts, his smile fading. “Turns out…“
“You don’t have to tell her if you don’t want to,” Xingqiu tells him, “because I will.” He turns to Xiangling, and feels the familiar sparks of anger igniting inside him. “So, Chongyun got stood up.”
Xiangling’s jaw drops. “What?” She hisses in a whisper-shout.
“I know. Turns out it was all an elaborate trick,” Xingqiu seethes, “A set up. I caught him laughing outside the restaurant, the bitch—“
“How dare he?” The look in Xiangling’s eyes could burn cities. She reaches over to grasp Chongyun’s hand in hers. “Chongyun, I am so sorry. That is so awful of him.”
He gives her a small, pained smile. “It’s okay. I should have known better.”
“It’s not okay!” Xiangling exclaims, abandoning all attempts at being quiet, while Xingqiu says, in an equally loud volume, “How would you have known better?”
Chongyun glances out to the streets, which are still empty. “Guys, it’s late, maybe you shouldn’t be too—“
“You expected him to be a decent human being,” Xingqiu says. “We all did! Why would you expect anything less?”
Xiangling nods fervently. “It’s not your fault, Chongyun.”
“I guess,” he mumbles, burying his face in his arms. “I still feel like an idiot for falling for it.”
“You’re not an idiot,” Xiangling says firmly, “he was just an asshole.”
She stands up with a huff. “I’ll get you some shaved ice,” she says decidedly. “It’ll make you feel better.”
Chongyun manages a small smile. “…Thank you.”
She hurries off to the kitchen, leaving Xingqiu and Chongyun alone. Once she disappears behind the curtains, Chongyun slumps to the table with a muffled groan.
Xingqiu nudges him. “You know she’s right.”
“I—“
“Nope. You’re a wonderful person and you deserve someone who can see that.” He presses a finger to Chongyun’s lips when he tries to object. “We’re not having this conversation again, so believe it.”
Chongyun gives him a faint smile. “If you say so.”
Xiangling returns with three servings of shaved ice, which she declares are on the house.
“Well, Chongyun’s is on the house,” she amends. “Not yours.”
Xingqiu pauses mid-scoop. “Why not?”
“I don’t see you getting your heart broken,” she says.
“Show your friend’s business some support,” Chongyun adds.
Xingqiu sighs. “Two against one? Really?”
At least Chongyun seems pleased with the arrangement.
“So,” says Xiangling over her bowl of shaved ice. “I don’t know about you two, but I am getting revenge.”
Xingqiu looks up, and even Chongyun pauses in spooning shaved ice into his mouth dejectedly.
“Oh, definitely,” says Xingqiu. “That guy deserves at least a good slap in the face. At most…”
“Xingqiu,” Chongyun protests halfheartedly. “Please don’t commit any criminal offences.”
“Shush,” says Xiangling, “we’re plotting revenge on behalf of you, silly.”
“I promise I won’t resort to outright violence,” Xingqiu adds. “We can think of something else.”
In such situations of the heart, violence is clearly not the answer. Maybe property damage? Chongyun’s claymore could deal a sizable blow to, say, his window…
But then again, why resort to crime when petty pranks were available? It was his specialty. Not to mention, the best candidate for the job is already right here in front of him.
“Xiangling,” he says, feeling a smile growing on his face. “Any new recipes you’ve been working on?”
Xiangling’s mirroring smile and the manic glint in her eyes tells him all he needs to know. “I like where this is going.”
“I don’t,” offers Chongyun, but he seems more interested in his dessert than stopping them anyway.
“You can pretend not to hear so you can claim deniability,” Xiangling suggests. Chongyun shrugs and continues eating his shaved ice.
“Well, I was thinking of having him taste test one of your newer innovations,” says Xingqiu. “Preferably one that involves slimes. And Jueyun Chillies. Whatever you feel like adding.”
Xiangling nods. “I have just the recipe in mind,” she says, almost excitedly, “it’s a bit more experimental, and I’m quite unsure on the texture—it’s a bit hard to incorporate lizard tail into slime, cause it ruins the consistency—“
Xingqiu stops her right then and there. “That sounds perfect.”
Chongyun looks concerned. “Please don’t actually poison him.”
Xiangling waves a dismissive hand. “It won’t be!” She purses her lips. “Maybe it’ll upset the stomach a bit, but none of the ingredients are actually toxic.”
“Good enough for me,” says Xingqiu. Chongyun sighs, but makes no move to object. Xiangling is rubbing her hands together in anticipation.
“So, we’re doing this.” He grins. “What do you say we give our friend a little surprise gift?”
They stay up all night preparing, and by the time they’re finished, Xingqiu knows more about the various applications of slime in cuisine than he ever cared to know. He’s pretty sure he’ll find bits of slime underneath his fingernails for the rest of the week.
A worthy sacrifice. Chongyun had seemed satisfied by their progress, though with the amount of times they almost set something on fire, he had deigned not to ask, only to observe the results from a safe distance.
And the results were definitely satisfactory.
In the morning, a gift box carefully wrapped with blue ribbon the exact shade of Chongyun’s eyes is sent to its intended recipient, who will discover it when he wakes up, and see his name written in Xiangling’s loopy handwriting. (Xingqiu had volunteered for this part, but got vetoed immediately.)
The recipient, pleasantly surprised by the gift, will read the little note with the anonymous confession attached inside. He will open the box to see rows of innocent looking chocolates—a delicacy from Fontaine, Xiangling had said, and see no reason not to enjoy them, courtesy of his ‘secret admirer’.
After that, they’re not entirely sure what’ll happen, just that it will involve a lot of regret, suffering and probably the restroom. Xingqiu really doesn't want to know.
Chongyun seems unfazed by all this, though Xingqiu knows him well enough by now to spot that twinge of satisfaction in his otherwise blank expression. Xingqiu himself is brimming with fierce gratification, and he high-fives Xiangling when she comes over to their table to take their order.
No one gets to mess with Chongyun and get away with it.
(Except maybe Xingqiu himself. Still, he wouldn’t call being pelted with carrots in retaliation getting away with it.)
—
So here they are again, on a sunny February afternoon, sitting at their usual table by the corner where a sand-bearer tree offered its balmy shade on Chongyun's side. Xingqiu had not finished his paperwork, having been otherwise occupied with his brand-new revelation and now valiantly pretending that he hasn't been obsessing over the very issue all night long.
In fact, if he allows himself to properly reflect on the issue, he would find that he has had a crush on his best friend for the past few years, if not ever since they became best friends in the first place. But that would be embarrassing and lead to a good amount of overthinking, so he just settles for the facts.
Fact 1, he is in love with his best friend.
Fact 2, he has no idea what to do about it.
Now, Fact 3, he never does anything about it, seems like an increasingly likely outcome.
After all the nights he's spent thinking of a way to confess, it was really the most sensible outcome he's come up with. There was no need for him to confess and ruin the easy equilibrium they shared in friendship.
Besides, he doesn't think he can handle rejection. Not from Chongyun.
Absentminded, he picks at his plate of food, not really in the mood to eat. Still, for Xiangling’s sake, he tries, because he really does not want to be on the receiving end of Guoba’s flame-breath or her disappointment.
He takes a bite and immediately chokes on a familiar, revolting taste.
Carrots.
“What—“ He swallows the bite of carrots down forcefully, the horrible taste lingering on his tongue, and takes a proper look at his dish.
Cold noodles with shredded carrot on top.
“Huh.” Opposite him, Chongyun is trying very hard not to smile. “I thought you’d be harder to fool.”
“You—“ Xingqiu tosses a carrot shaving towards him. It misses and sails somewhere over his shoulder. Chongyun’s mouth twitches. “Very funny,” he settles for, glaring at him. It doesn’t work very well, mostly because he doesn’t mean it anyway.
“I thought it would be.” Chongyun reaches over for his noodles, pushing the plate of Jade parcels back towards Xingqiu. “I’m beside myself with laughter right now.” His eyes glimmer with poorly concealed amusement in spite of his smooth expression.
“I can’t believe this,” Xingqiu says. “You stole my idea. I knew I should have gotten a copyright. You…”
For some reason, Chongyun isn’t meeting his eyes. His face is a bit pink. He didn’t actually eat Xingqiu’s food, did he?
Just to check, he looks back at his Jade parcels.
“Chongyun,” he says. “Did you—did you do this?”
The dumplings are arranged meticulously into a heart.
The cool afternoon breeze grows stifling. Xingqiu can feel his heartbeat accelerate at an alarming rate.
Chongyun’s face is buried in his hands. “I knew I shouldn’t have let Xiangling talk me into this.”
“But—what—“ All of his words dry up in his throat, leaving him with an inconvenient inability to form complete sentences.
“I can’t do this,” Chongyun says. He plucks a dumpling from Xingqiu’s plate, dips it in chilli, and before Xingqiu can react, pops it in his mouth.
“That was—you—“ Very eloquent, Xingqiu. “You probably shouldn’t have done that.”
“Probably,” Chongyun says, a flush rising to his skin. “But it’s a nice dumpling. Also, I like you. A lot.”
What.
“There, I did it!” He shouts over Xingqiu’s shoulder. A couple of other patrons turn in a mixture of confusion and amusement.
A series of clatters, and then a loud cheer erupts from the kitchen. “I knew you could do it!”
Xiangling. Of course.
“Oh, Archons,” says Xingqiu. He’s grinning like an idiot. From relief, from surprise, from utter euphoria. “Xiangling, bring some water over!”
So, three glasses of water, two apologies to the rest of the customers, and one popsicle later, Chongyun’s complexion has returned to normal.
“You’re such an idiot,” Xingqiu says. He’s still smiling.
Chongyun, on the other hand, refuses to meet Xingqiu’s eyes. “I can’t believe I did that.”
“Well, I can’t believe you beat me to it! Do you know how many sleepless nights I’ve spent worrying about this? And then you have the audacity to pull this off—“
“Xingqiu, please don’t pull all nighters, you know you need 8 hours of sleep for—“ Chongyun’s eyes widen. “Wait. What?”
Xingqiu reaches over to take his hand. Chongyun lets him.
“Let’s start over,” he says. “Chongyun, I really like you.”
“I really like you too.” Chongyun looks at their intertwined hands, his eyes softening. “Even though you prank me all the time.”
“Aw, Yunyun!” Xingqiu laughs. He feels like floating. “You’re the only one for my pranks. No one else.”
“Wow, Qiu. I feel so honoured.” Chongyun sighs, but he’s smiling too, brighter than Xingqiu has ever seen.
—
Xiangling treats them to ice cream as a congratulations, because in her words, “you two are idiots, but I’m glad you finally got your acts together. I call dibs on being maid of honour.”
Then she runs off, saying something about claiming bets: “Hu Tao owes me a lot of mora!”
Xingqiu’s too busy holding hands with Chongyun to care.
“So,” says Chongyun. “Are we dating now?”
“I think so,” Xingqiu says. “I’ll need to take you out on a proper first date sometime, then.”
Chongyun shrugs. “Why wait? I’m free after this.”
“Where would we even go? It’s too early for a candlelit dinner.”
“Anywhere’s fine, as long as I’m with you.”
“You’re such a sap, Yunyun,” Xingqiu says with a laugh. “I hope you know what you’re getting into.” Archons, he can’t stop smiling. “You’re never getting rid of me now.”
Chongyun smiles back, small but genuine. He leans over to clasp Xingqiu’s hand in his. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Their hands fit together perfectly.
The sky is blue, the mountains stand tall, and Xingqiu and Chongyun are together. It’s always been the two of them.
Now, he knows that it always will be.