Chapter Text
Jiang Cheng found himself in a dilemma in the infantile stages of winter.
Yunmeng hadn’t quite taken to the incoming season yet, the geography of the town having aways tended more to heat than cold. Perhaps it would be colder in two to three weeks’ time, depending on how harsh winter would hit their country.
But that wasn’t quite the dilemma in question.
He had a business to attend to in Gusu, and it would require a month of staying. Inevitably, through Wei Wuxian’s prodding, Lan Qiren had also gotten a wind of it. Then he’d insisted Jiang Cheng to stay with his husband.
Husband.
It would take Jiang Cheng a few more months to fully process that idea and not forget it every now and then.
They’d gotten married during the earliest fall which was a few three or four months ago. It had passed by in a blur—the occasion, that is—as there had been no red suits nor veils. No bows to the heavens and the earths.
They had simply exchanged rings in their usual suits and submitted together their signed certificate over the court. There weren’t much spectators either other than their immediate families who all but waited for them to get it done with so they could start the party—of which felt more like the main event.
He remembered going through the heavy realization that the act of legalizing their union itself was going to change something in his flow of life. A spouse was a life partner, meaning there was no more “me” but a “we” and he was going to struggle in the transition, but he also remembered his resolve and willingness to try and get an experience of their future companionship.
He must have smiled a little that day when he slipped the ring on Lan Xichen’s long, slender fingers. And he seemed to remember the small tremble of Lan Xichen’s own hands as they slipped the ring on him, too, but he wasn’t really sure.
After that had been a very, very loud party. All the action happened there: the congratulations, the getting to know each other, the games Wei Wuxian dragged them into, his parents’ announcement that they were officially retiring (which only really meant that Jiang Cheng was going to be very, very buried in work after that), and the surprising announcement of Meng Yao’s marriage with a woman named Qin Su.
(—Which relaxed a tension he didn’t know existed in his worries. Understandably, he was glad there wouldn’t be some sort of love triangle about to happen.)
But there had been a little drama about it, actually. Qin Su had been accused of being another one of Jin Guangshan’s bastard—hence, sister to Meng Yao—but a quick DNA test proved that the two were not related and they could, with a sigh of relief, marry each other. (For love, he was told. Ah, love. Such a rarity in their circle. But he was happy for them.)
And then after that had been a jarring calmness, quietness. It was as if that was the apex of excitement in his life and then it all fell down into that comfortable, low buzz of simply living his intended life.
Even the vacation—the best equivalent they could have to a honeymoon—with his now-husband had been of little peaceful moments of dinners, small smiles and laughter, observing each other’s quirks, watching the sunsets and sunrises, appreciating tourist spots.
Back in their real worlds, they couldn’t do much to act like the usual married couple. With his parents’ retirement and escape off to somewhere halfway across the globe, Jiang Cheng was, indeed, very, very busy. And he knew Lan Xichen was too.
There had been no time for them to think through how they were going to live, so they simply agreed to live as usual: separately, in their own houses in their respective regions, with frequent calls to check in on the other, and mandatory bi-weekly dates where they would finally get to meet up (outside work, that is) and spend the day like an actual couple (in their early courtship was what it would be).
Their parents had only commented on it but did not oppose, surprisingly. He figured it was a way to give their children whom they married off to for business some respite and allow them to take their own pace. Not that they had to. Him and Lan Xichen had easily developed some sort of a friendship between them, and he was alright to have it that way—a platonic marriage.
Lan Xichen was a kind, smart, and pleasant man who worked to understand Jiang Cheng’s reasoning of things and how he decided for situations. Jiang Cheng wouldn’t complain to have a companion like that for life (unless, of course, the other decided he would rather find love somewhere else, and although he found that he wasn’t quite comfortable with the idea, he would, still, allow the other man free if he wished).
Still, he didn’t quite feel it right to impose on Lan Xichen with his month-long stay. He’d feel like he was intruding. Wouldn’t Lan Xichen find it jarring to suddenly have to house someone without prior warning?
If they were to ever live together, this wasn’t how he imagined it to start. He’d rather they have a proper talk about it as a headstart and buy a new house.
However, Lan Qiren wouldn’t let it rest if he didn’t take the suggestion (or demand, rather). Besides, his husband’s house was conveniently very close to where he was going to work in.
“Sir?”
Jiang Cheng glanced up, finding his secretary holding a phone out to him.
“It’s Mr. Lan.”
Uncertain, he took the phone and called out, “Xichen-ge?”
Yes. He’d been cajoled into calling his husband a little more familiarly. And yes, it was weird for Lan Xichen to call during work. Usually, their mandatory calls were after work.
“Wanyin,” the older responded, gently—another one of the weirder things that had changed since the first time they went on a date. Perhaps they’d gotten closer somewhere along the way enough that Jiang Cheng was finally at the receiving end of the older’s warmth. Still, he was unused to it. “I’m sorry for calling mid-work. How are you?”
“I am well.” Inevitably, he took his hands off of the computer keyboard and turned his chair to face the city view through his glass window—wall? Whatever.
He vaguely heard his secretary murmur his excuses before leaving. And only then did he drop his business tone to something he wore around his A-Jie and A-Ling.
“You called, Xichen-ge. Is something wrong?”
“Ah, no.” A small chuckle. “Everything is well on my side, Wanyin. It’s that I heard from Uncle about your business trip.”
Ah, so that was it. Jiang Cheng wouldn’t deny feeling a little uncomfortable at the mention of it.
“Yes. Uh— My presence is needed in one of the subsidiaries. I will need to stay for a month—”
“Wanyin—”
“— Yes?”
“You may stay with me.”
Jiang Cheng frowned. “Did your uncle put you up to this?”
“Uncle did tell me to, but he didn’t even have to ask. Please, be at ease to come.”
Of course, it wouldn’t be nice of him to continuously resist.
Thus, he found himself traveling on his own to Gusu, one hand on the steering wheel and the other holding a phone to his ear.
“Xichen-ge?”
“Hello, Wanyin. What time would be the most convenient for me to pick you up?”
Unsurprisingly, he accidentally stepped on the break. He could not, for the life of him, even care about the angry honks behind him.
“Ah, I am already on my way.”
“Wanyin—” Lan Xichen replied, sounding strangely mortified. Then he sighed, chuckled softly the next, leaving Jiang Cheng confused at the rapidly changing reactions. “Well, that would be quite improper now, wouldn’t it be?”
“Excuse me?” Improper—Jiang Cheng started the engine and stepped on the pedal a bit too hard—Improper?!
“I ought to pick you up as your husband, after all.”
Oh. Jiang Cheng slowed down a bit, finally noticing the speed at he was going. But— “It’s not necessary. I am perfectly capable of navigating my way.”
“I know, Wanyin, but I wanted to.” A pause. “May I know where you are now?”
“Why?”
In the name of duty and propriety, Jiang Cheng was successfully convinced to stop at the nearest restaurant he could find to wait for Lan Xichen to get to him.
As is proper, the older had declared.
He’d fussed at first, noticing that he wasn’t even halfway to Gusu. It wasn’t the most fair nor the most convenient distance but there was no helping it when Lan Xichen had almost begged. He could only relent lest his mother get a wind of it and scold him for being so cold to his spouse’s wishes.
Of course, even at such a time, he had brought his laptop with him in the restaurant. For work. Always.
Might as well use the waiting time to finish going over the balance sheet. He would need a bit of an extra free time later to unpack, after all.
It was perhaps an hour later or less when Lan Xichen’s familiar back finally emerged from the small restaurant’s door. It was his cue to shut his laptop.
He stood from his seat and called—definitely not shouted, “Xichen-ge, here.”
The tall figure in beige cardigan and trousers turned gracefully at his direction. (After spending much time with the man, Jiang Cheng finally could not help but notice just how… infuriatingly debonair Lan Xichen is that he is almost envious. Almost.)
Lan Xichen’s small smile grew with every long stride he took towards the table. Huh. Only then did Jiang Cheng notice another person trailing behind him.
“Wanyin,” the older called out almost in greeting. He did that often that Jiang Cheng might have subconsciously memorized a few meanings: a few hellos, some “I have something to show/tell you”, and the occasional “I want to say sorry but I won’t say it immediately without a proper introduction to the essay-long apology I want to say.”
“Did we take long?”
“No.” Jiang Cheng tilted his head to the empty seats. Fortunately, he chose a four-seater table. Thanks, instincts. “Not that I noticed anyway if you did.”
Somehow, what he said was funny to Lan Xichen.
“And your companion is?” He gazed at the other person—a well-groomed youngling who began to fidget under his scrutiny.
“Good afternoon, Master Jiang. This one is called Muyang.” The young man bowed, and when he took back up, he seemed less anxious now.
“Good afternoon, Muyang. Xichen-ge, please take a seat.”
They dined for a quick while after Jiang Cheng insisted that they at least do that for a rest before resuming the journey. Surprisingly, Muyang was more enthusiastic and talkative than Jiang Cheng had assumed at first.
Inevitably, he’d gotten to know that the young man was Lan Xichen’s secretary-in-training who ought to take over his father, Lan Xichen’s father’s own secretary. Ah, yes. Jiang Cheng could remember the young man whose father had called the very perfect Lan Xichen an “impertinent brat who doesn’t know what’s good for him like that useless son of mine! How could you cancel the meeting with an important investor?! How did Qiren raise you?!”
It had been when Lan Xichen brought him to the gentian house to make up for missing their first bi-weekly date. Jiang Cheng had pitied his helpless then-fiancé and explained the ordeal, only for the older to receive another lashing about missing important dinners and what not.
“You really don’t know what’s good for you! Lan Xichen, how could you have missed your promised getaway with your fiancé?! Good, ah! You and my useless brat will really get along well! Haah!”
It was not exactly a getaway but— Lan Xichen had meekly submitted to the elderly who was, Jiang Cheng could admit, much, much intimidating than Lan Qiren had ever been.
His son, this Muyang child, on the other hand…
Jiang Cheng hadn’t heard much about him because he was still not technically working. However, he proudly announced that he was an occasional driver for the impeccable Mr. Lan because “It is my greatest to honor to be of service to the First Master Lan. I would polish his shoe if I could—”
“Muyang, please…”
“Apologies, Master Lan.”
A fanatic, then, Jiang Cheng thought fondly. He could feel one corner of his lips quirking. “Perhaps you would get along with Hanan. You and him must meet one of these days.”
Strangely, the child had grown flustered, throat clearing and eyes looking elsewhere but his.
“Uhm, I— Well, I would be happy to.”
He had to turn his attention to his husband when the boy seemed overstimulated enough. (He had to try hard not to overthink it, but he couldn’t help the distant voice of disappointment at the back of his mind screaming: “You scared him. Oh, you did, didn’t you? You always do. Ah, Jiang Wanyin, Jiang Wanyin.”)
“How have you been, Xichen-ge?”
Somewhere along the conversation, Lan Xichen’s beaming smile had dropped because now he was looking a little dull—dazed? Perhaps he’d gotten bored? Jiang Cheng was not inclined to do anything about it, normally, but this was now his… husband. He wasn’t going to pretend like he didn’t know that it would be a married couple’s duty to look after even the smallest detail about the other. His parents may not be good examples of what to do as a married couple, but they were the perfect example of what NOT to do as a married couple.
“It has been busy,” Lan Xichen answers mildly, “but everything has been well.”
“Is that so,” Jiang Cheng replies half-heartedly. He didn’t really know what to do about his husband’s mood. Instead, he glances at his watch and announces, “We should get going.”
Lan Xichen seemed to snap out of whatever bad spell he was in at that. Immediately, his eyes darted to Jiang Cheng’s in attention, his smile growing back to its usual, everyday size.
“Of course,” he says more attentively. Then he reaches his hand, palm facing upward as usual. “Shall we?”
It would be rude to walk past him like that, so Jiang Cheng took the hand and let himself be guided to his car’s… passenger seat?
“Let me drive, Wanyin. Muyang will drive mine.”
And, well, after all that had transpired so far, why would he still oppose?
-
Moving and settling in Lan Xichen’s two-storey house was easier than he thought.
He was not weak, mind you. He could pick up Wei Wuxian and throw him out the company building’s 100th floor’s massive window. He definitely could carry his one briefcase and one suitcase. However, his husband’s initiative had him doing nothing at all but marvel at the fact that Lan Xichen was thoughtful enough to have already cleaned a room for him, and then another to provide Jiang Cheng some working space.
“That,” Jiang Cheng began, swallowing the sudden onslaught of shame he hadn’t felt for a year or so. This was different from the embarrassment he’d feel around his embarrassment of a brother called Wei Wuxian. “This is not necessary at all, Xichen-ge.”
The older hummed as he placed the briefcase on the seemingly new desk. “I beg to disagree, Wanyin. A month is a lot of days, and I simply can’t have you suffer the least discomfort if I can help it.”
“This is a form of discomfort for me,” Jiang Cheng replied wryly.
“I’m sorry, but I must fight you on this,” argued his husband solemnly. For a second, he feared he had upset the older. “I suppose I can understand if it overwhelms you. I will not take it back, however. The room has always been empty, and until then, it will be yours whether you wish to use it or not.”
Jiang Cheng gave the warmly decorated room in contrast to the neat and minimalist overall interior design of the apartment another once-over and sighed.
“…Alright. At this point, can I still refuse?”
He’d already fallen prey to the man’s famed skills at negotiations once. How could Lan Xichen fail now? Jiang Cheng was no idiot to accept a lost battle when he saw one.
Could he blame his mother, anyway, that she had gotten her son a strongly persistent husband to counter her own son’s stubbornness?
Yu Ziyuan would not have herself be blamed for what was obviously a good thing.
Sometime after making sure that Jiang Cheng knew where anything was, Lan Xichen had finally left him alone to unpack.
Oh, he had no doubt his husband would have also insisted on unpacking for him if he hadn’t made the older aware of how overwhelming it already was that there was a whole ass office dedicated to Jiang Cheng, a one-month guest, who would definitely not be returning here after this.
He pursed his lips at that, but then the call of duty came to him.
At once, he began to unpack his office materials. There wasn’t really much—a briefcase could barely hold a whole office inside it, after all—but he had always been particular with his table set-ups. A stack of file reports on the upper left corner, a stack of agreements and contracts next to it, a stack of projects to be approved on the middle left, then the correspondences next to it. Thank the heavens the desk was large enough, and he didn’t have to worry about pens because right next to his designated seat was a shelf of stationeries.
Lastly—
Jiang Cheng frowned when his fingers caught on to something hard tucked at the very bottom of the suitcase.
When he brought it out, he had to stop the fond snort he was about to release. No doubt, Hanan had done a good job packing even the dog figurine that his husband had sent him as an apology.
Of course, he wasn’t going to put it on display.
Normally.
But lately, his life had not been normal. Ugh. Was it ever?
Anyway, he would need paper weights, indeed.
Sometime around dinner, Jiang Cheng was startled with the sudden presence of an elderly woman.
“Call me Aunt Li,” she had introduced, and then had added before he could ever reply, “It is nice to finally meet the Master Jiang. You have no idea how the Master Lan had ran around the house fretfully as if I don’t keep it clean enough. He has never acted like this before.”
It was said in jest, but Lan Xichen had flushed all the same. He did not deny it either.
“Hmn. You’d think he was going to receive the Emperor—but perhaps he was.”
“Aunt Li,” Lan Xichen had protested weakly.
Hmn. Interestingly, this husband of his was just as weak to older aunties' attacks as he was. Interesting, but not surprising.
They had a good laugh about it until they finished dinner, Aunt Li had cleaned up (after scolding Jiang Cheng for attempting to steal the elderly’s work) before going back to her own home, and Lan Xichen had quietly bid him goodnight.
It wasn’t much of a goodnight as Lan Xichen had hoped when he said it.
Jiang Cheng’s sleep had always been compromised for work, hence, it wasn’t surprising for him to stay up a bit late (but not that late in fear of disturbing his husband who’d grown up around the strict Lan schedule). And even when he’d put himself to bed, he was unable to sleep.
After tossing and turning for as long as he could endure, he finally found himself walking quietly around the dimly-lit hallway.
The kitchen was where he ended up in, naturally, for coffee. Not the best drink to induce sleep but the familiarity of it might ease his nerves. (Perhaps he was having a withdrawal effect from the long days he had not been allowed to touch all his beloved bean collection in favor of choking down on Jiang Yanli’s imported tea leaves.)
He had rummaged for a while to find any sort of coffee in his husband’s impeccably organized kitchen. It was a packet of instant coffee but who was he to get picky now, in this house, at this hour?
He took the steaming cup with him next to the balcony where he sat in silence for a while, eyes only ever darting here-and-to the gradual decline of city lights a little below.
Lan Xichen’s subdivision was a little above Caiyi City’s bustles. It was distanced enough to remain undisturbed by the usual city noises but not too much to be considered far removed from it. In fact, it was closest to that damned subsidiary company he had been having a headache over when he had scanned their file reports.
“Wanyin?”
Jiang Cheng almost jumped, if not for the weight of the cooling coffee mug on his left palm.
Lan Xichen stood right by the sliding door, his figure partially shadowed by the dimness of the night. Jiang Cheng hadn’t really turned the lights on.
“Xichen-ge—” he replied, a bit breathless from the fright. “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”
All that shuffling must have disturbed him. He had tried to be quiet, but between him and his sister who could walk in and out like a ghost even if the ground was covered with plastic wraps, he simply was no match at all.
“Not at all,” said the older as he walked closer. “I found myself unable to rest is all. I did not expect to find you here.”
Lan Xichen stood next to him with a smile even softer than usual—or maybe it was the lighting. And his clothes.
This First Master Lan of the Lan Corporation had shred his formal and semi-formal self to that of a simple homely man.
He wore a thin white shirt, the fabric of it a little stretched from the deceptive muscles beneath (—he had always looked more like a slender man in his beige suits and cardigans than the hulk of a man he actually was) and a pair of gray sweatpants. His hair did most of the wonders, however. The usually slicked-back perfect hair had come undone into this un-styled and free-flowing softness.
It wasn’t anything of an image-breaker, strangely. It still seemed so Lan Xichen, just a tad bit relaxed and unshackled by the demands of a perfect image he had always carried everywhere.
“Was anything disturbing you? Is the room uncomfortable?”
Jiang Cheng had to raise an eyebrow. “No. Nothing about that.”
“Then...?”
“Insomnia. It happens.” He shrugged. When he felt the gaze on his cup of coffee, he huffed. “Xichen-ge, you cannot fight me on even this. I have had enough of people forbidding me back in Yunmeng.”
His husband gazed at him disbelievingly—what for, he could not guess right—for a second before chuckling.
“Alright, I won’t.”
Silence.
“What about you? Why the inability to rest?”
Lan Xichen hummed. “There are things on my mind, I suppose.”
Jiang Cheng hummed back noncommittally.
He wasn’t going to ask what. He wasn’t particularly curious, and they weren’t close enough to start prying.
Instead, he downed the last bit of coffee he had left and basked in the comfortable silence while they watch the last of the city lights still on.
If this was what companionship was like: warmth beside him despite the distance, despite the empty cup of coffee, despite the insomnia, he could live with this.
__
It is no wonder then that in his newfound comfort, he had left the bed after two hours of sleep, still a bit groggy and yawning uncaringly, only to end up in a kitchen that was definitely not his own, a smiling gentleman holding a cup of coffee out to him, saying,
"Good morning, Wanyin."
He remembered it late, but when he did, he let himself smile a little despite the embarassment. Right. He is married, with a husband, and in his husband's house.
He glanced at the cup of what seemed to finally be freshly brewed coffee and not that classless instant pack, then back at his thoroughly amused husband, and greeted back:
"Good morning, husband."
Lan Xichen's surprise was a satisfying way to start the morning. And all he could think now was how he could really live with something like this.
What about you?