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(Cui Buqu had never considered himself particularly susceptible to a midlife crisis, for a number of reasons.
First and foremost was the implicit expectation that he would live long enough to have a midlife crisis, which was ridiculous enough on its own. Practically since birth Cui Buqu had been told, you’re probably not going to live much longer. The fact that he still hadn’t crossed over yet was a testament to his nigh unconquerable willpower.
But he could only outrun death for so long, especially with his crappy cardiovascular system and weak legs.
Second, Cui Buqu believed very strongly that a midlife crisis was the product of a weak or understimulated mind. People who were calm, rational, and intelligent didn’t have midlife crises; people who had carved out a place in this world for themselves through sheer force of will also didn’t have midlife crises.
Cui Buqu’s calm, rational, intelligent mind was his greatest asset, and certainly he had fought tooth and nail to become head of the Zuoyue bureau, a position which he had no plans of relinquishing while still alive. So…no, he didn’t think it arrogant to say that he was above a midlife crisis.
Therefore it was deeply, utterly galling when, one peaceful afternoon, he found himself slamming headfirst into one without so much as a by-your-leave.)
(If asked, he would of course blame the whole thing on Feng Xiao. Because it was his fault. Obviously.)
Paperwork, Cui Buqu thought, in the very quiet, private space of his mind where he occasionally allowed himself to complain, is the bane of my existence.
Outside his open window, he could hear the distant hubbub of the city: people chattering quietly amongst themselves, horse hooves striking the street, carts clattering behind them. The weather was warm but not overly so, and a light breeze sent puffy clouds rolling across the clear blue sky. In short, it was an almost perfect day to be out and about.
Not that he would be outside if he didn’t have paperwork—he’d had a migraine yesterday, and while he felt much better now, he didn’t feel like testing his constitution—but it was the principle of the thing. He was stuck inside trying to read someone else’s cramped, crappy handwriting (because gods forbid anyone write neatly), while everyone else was, in general, having a much better time than him.
There’s no point complaining, he told himself firmly, smoothing the line between his eyebrows with his fingertips to remind himself to relax. When one is scheming, one must occasionally tend to the tedious minutiae.
He briefly rifled through his mental schedule, and frowned at the unfortunate lack of upcoming banquets to disrupt. At least, no upcoming banquets he had a reason to disrupt. Maybe if he could fabricate a good enough excuse…
“That’s a dangerous expression,” a voice said from the doorway.
Cui Buqu looked up, and most people would not have been able to spot the very subtle softening of his lips, or the slight easing in the creases around his eyes. Most people were not Feng Xiao however, who had made it his life’s mission to become fluent in every one of Cui Buqu’s microexpressions.
“Commander Feng,” Cui Buqu greeted dryly, setting his brush to one side and straightening in his seat.
“Commander Cui,” Feng Xiao parroted back at him, lips curling wickedly. Then he let out an obnoxiously loud, dramatic sigh, and perched on the edge of the desk. “You wound me, you know.”
Cui Buqu wordlessly raised an eyebrow.
“I haven’t seen you for ages, Ququ. Ages. Didn’t we walk through fire together? How can you be so cold?”
It had been two days, actually. Cui Buqu had bundled into a carriage and shown up at the Jiejian Bureau with an excuse he’d known but hadn’t cared was flimsy, and Feng Xiao had heckled him a bit before inviting him to play a few rounds of Go. They had spent several hours like that, sparring both mentally and verbally, although they had occasionally taken breaks to make fun of Pei Jingzhe.
Cui Buqu let his eyes go half-lidded, and propped his chin on his hand. “Despite what you seem to think, I don’t exist simply to entertain you.”
“Don’t you, though?” Feng Xiao asked innocently. Then he twisted gracefully so that he was leaning a little over the desk, into the other man’s space. “Come get lunch with me.”
Cui Buqu stared evenly back at him, refusing to show how caught off-guard he was by the sudden demand—and how much he wanted to immediately accept. Damn his affection for this ridiculous man. “You may be able to live frivolously, but I have work I need to do.”
Feng Xiao scoffed and slipped one of the terribly-written pages from the pile before Cui Buqu could stop him. He studied the paper for a second—and then his brow furrowed in consternation. “This handwriting is atrocious. You haven’t gotten someone to rewrite this?” But before Cui Buqu could respond, he set the page aside and continued, “I assure you, I’m much more interesting than this boring paperwork.”
Cui Buqu hesitated for a second, before deciding to let the first comment pass. “And yet, it still must be done.”
“Surely there’s no harm in leaving it be for an hour,” Feng Xiao crooned, as enticingly as a temptress. “I bet you haven’t eaten at all today, have you? Come on, I’ll make it worth your while.”
Now Cui Buqu was paying attention. “Oh?”
Feng Xiao just looked back at him, eyebrows innocently raised, as though butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. Cui Buqu felt his resistance begin to dissolve—and though he would never admit it out loud, he felt both frightened and excited by how easily he gave in to Feng Xiao. That sort of vulnerability had been impossible before very recently, and it was still alien to him.
At last Cui Buqu nodded. “I’m holding you to that.”
Feng Xiao grinned, and then went to retrieve Cui Buqu’s cloak. After Cui Buqu had finished putting his papers in order, he deigned to let Feng Xiao sweep the cloak over his shoulders and lead him to the carriage waiting outside.
Just as they were about to leave Feng Xiao hesitated, a peculiar look on his face.
“What is it?” Cui Buqu asked, frowning.
Feng Xiao studied his face for a moment, before something that looked like resolve flickered in his gaze like a candle, so quickly Cui Buqu thought he might’ve imagined it. “I’ll be right back.”
Cui Buqu blinked at the strange behavior, but it wasn’t exactly like he could’ve stopped Feng Xiao—the other man had already vanished in a swirl of long hair and elegant robes. With a mental philosophical shrug, Cui Buqu folded his hands across his lap, settled into his seat, and began to wait.
A few minutes later, Feng Xiao returned to the carriage and climbed inside without a word of explanation. Cui Buqu glared at him through narrowed eyes, but eventually let it go when Feng Xiao just grinned back at him like a shark. No doubt he’d find out when he returned.
But as Feng Xiao got comfortable across from him, a memory suddenly unspooled in Cui Buqu’s mind:
A cheeky laugh, followed by a voice as clear and strong as a bell. The unmistakable, familiar weight of a body pressing down on him, hands pinned, so close that he could see his own reflection in Feng Xiao’s eyes. Domineering lips crashing down on his, him rising to meet it like the tide, and all the while telling himself that it was just a ruse, deep down knowing he was already too far gone—
Expression carefully blank, Cui Buqu shifted in his seat and subtly pinched the skin between his thumb and forefinger, using the pain to bring himself back to the present. None of that.
“Where are we going?” he forced himself to ask.
Feng Xiao stretched out, the languid lines of his body somehow managing to make the cramped seat look like a throne. “If I told you then it would ruin the surprise, now wouldn’t it?”
Cui Buqu’s hackles immediately went up—was this actually an attempt to pit him? He hadn’t thought so, as there hadn’t been the telltale excited gleam of mischief in Feng Xiao’s bright eyes, but perhaps he was mistaken.
Feng Xiao must’ve read some of his thoughts from his face, because he gave a cheeky laugh (unintentionally echoing himself from all those months ago) and waved one hand. “So suspicious! Relax, Ququ. Is it so strange for us to get lunch together?”
“Yes,” Cui Buqu replied immediately. From the very first moment, theirs had been a wartime relationship; they’d built trust on violence, bonded over blood and mortal wound. These halcyon days following Xiao Lu’s defeat, where they played Go and circled about each other even without a case to keep them in orbit…
Cui Buqu felt as though he were constantly on edge, waiting to wake up from this dream that was too perfect to be real.
One of Feng Xiao’s hands spasmed, and then he laughed airily. “You’ve figured out my evil plan. The second you let your guard down, I’ll steal you away and ravish you to pieces.”
Ignoring the tiny but insistent voice that piped up to say, I wouldn’t mind that, actually, he let out a derisive snort. “As if I would let you.”
Feng Xiao leaned forward, reached out, and caught Cui Buqu’s jaw, turning his head so they were practically nose to nose. “Do you really think you could stop me?”
Almost light-headed with exhilaration, Cui Buqu’s butterfly heart fluttered in his ribcage. Feng Xiao’s gorgeous, blade-edge eyes pinned him in place; retreat was not only impossible, but undesirable. His weight shifted forward in Feng Xiao’s hand, until he was pressing bruises into his own jaw—
And then the cart stopped so abruptly that Cui Buqu almost fell right out of his seat; it was only Feng Xiao’s quick, steadying hand on his shoulder that saved him. Once they were both settled, Cui Buqu pulled back the curtain to see what was going on, and scowled when he realized it was just the usual midday traffic.
He looked back, to see Feng Xiao once more lounging in his seat as though nothing had happened. Feng Xiao grinned, but Cui Buqu turned his gaze upward and away, refusing to give the other man the satisfaction of knowing how irritated he was that they’d been interrupted.
The owner of the restaurant had either been informed of their arrival ahead of time or knew who they were, because he took one look at them before directing them to what were clearly the best seats in the house. As they sat, Cui Buqu surreptitiously swept a few errant crumbs from the table while Feng Xiao was still distracted by the simpering owner.
Though they didn’t eat out together like this often, they seamlessly ordered dishes which Feng Xiao enjoyed, but were easy on Cui Buqu’s stomach. Actually now that Cui Buqu thought about it, it was almost…too easy.
Hmmmm.
When Cui Buqu casually scanned their surroundings he didn’t spot anything unusual, but that didn’t mean anything. If the game really was afoot, then Feng Xiao would be holding his cards close to his chest until the very last minute. Cui Buqu would just have to pay attention.
“What’s got you looking so serious all of a sudden?” Feng Xiao asked, amused.
Cui Buqu raised an eyebrow at him. “Shouldn’t you know?”
“I can’t actually read your mind.” His lips quirked. “Not that I would want to, even if I could.”
Cui Buqu blinked. He’d…sort of thought that the opposite would be the case. “Why not?”
Feng Xiao didn’t even hesitate. “That would be boring. Your unpredictability is one of the most interesting things about you.”
“Oh.” Cui Buqu wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to that. In the past, his refusal to share his plans with others had only ever been framed as a negative quality. “You would be the first to say so.”
Feng Xiao shrugged. “I’m not most people.”
“On that, we’re agreed,” Cui Buqu said dryly. He didn’t think he could handle it if there were more people like Feng Xiao in the world; on any given day, he was capable of driving Cui Buqu near insanity with rage and sheer desire. Sometimes, he wondered if the other man was just a fever dream, or a symptom of madness.
Feng Xiao’s smile briefly widened, before he cheerfully prodded Cui Buqu into a conversation about some recent piece of court gossip. Despite not knowing much about it, Cui Buqu let him—it was relaxing to banter about harmless, petty drama that they were required to keep track of due to their positions, but wouldn’t eventually result in the fall of the country.
Well…probably.
(T-5 minutes to mid-life crisis.)
The conversation briefly died when their food arrived, and Cui Buqu took a second to closely examine their server for anything suspicious. He was around their age, clearly the owner’s son; his features were handsome enough, although of course no one compared to Feng Xiao…
…who was favoring Cui Buqu with a rather intense, narrow-eyed stare.
“What are you acting jealous for?” Cui Buqu asked once the server had left.
Turning up his nose, Feng Xiao scoffed and began filling his plate. “Who’s acting jealous?”
“You know very well that your looks and talents are unmatched. Why would I look twice at a pebble in the road when I hold a pearl in the palm of my hand?”
That seemed to please Feng Xiao, to the point that he went very quiet for several minutes. Cui Buqu took the opportunity to placidly finish filling both their plates, while Feng Xiao watched him.
(T-minus 10 seconds.)
At last Feng Xiao shook his head, like he was physically pushing away his thoughts, and picked up his chopsticks. “Regardless. Happy birthday, Ququ.”
For a moment Cui Buqu didn’t react—but the second he processed Feng Xiao’s words he stopped, chopsticks frozen halfway to his mouth. His hand jerked slightly, and his suddenly dry throat clicked as he swallowed. “...what?”
Immediately sensing that something was amiss, Feng Xiao frowned and lowered his chopsticks back to his plate. “...happy birthday?”
Cui Buqu dropped his own chopsticks and laid his hands flat against the table. “What makes you think that it’s today?”
Feng Xiao’s frown deepened and his eyes gleamed like they always did when he was presented with some new case to solve. “Zhangsun Bodhi wasn’t sure, so I wrote to your uncle. Was he wrong?”
“I…” Cui Buqu swallowed again, but—no, he had to get out of here, right this instant. He pushed away from the table, ignoring Feng Xiao’s alarmed exclamation. “I have to go.”
“Cui Buqu!” Feng Xiao shouted, with all the authority of a Commander of the Jiejian Bureau in his voice.
A lesser man would’ve immediately folded at the implicit command, but Cui Buqu was not a lesser man. Head held high, he walked out of the restaurant as quickly as he could, and lost himself in the crowd.
Cui Buqu walked aimlessly down the street, wrestling with his own emotions. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to feel about this—or if he was supposed to feel anything at all.
Feng Xiao had kept his cards close to the chest—how long had he been planning this day? It would’ve taken several weeks to get a response from Cui Pei—and he shoved down the rising emotions at the thought of Feng Xiao sending letters to his uncle, because one thing at a fucking time—
It was more than the date, though. Really, it had nothing to do with the fucking date.
It was the fact that before now, the people who met him had only ever thought, he’s probably not going to survive to his next birthday. It was the fact that celebrating his birthday had always felt like a useless waste of what little time he had left. It was the fact that—
Feng Xiao had not only remembered it, but deliberately sought it out.
Cui Buqu paused, leaning heavily against the side of a pottery shop to catch his breath. The world seemed to swirl dizzily around him, like he was standing at the epicenter of a whirlwind.
All his life, Cui Buqu had never been careful with his health. The bad days had been fought through with sheer willpower; the good days had been punctuated by medicine he tried staunchly to resist taking. Giving up and letting himself be caged and controlled by his illness would’ve meant dying as he’d lived.
Better to go out fighting on his feet, clinging to life by the skin of his teeth.
Cui Buqu clenched one trembling fist, shook his head, and forced himself to keep walking. When nothing else made sense, when his heart was in turmoil, the one thing he knew how to do was keep going.
Five minutes later, Cui Buqu looked up to find that his feet had automatically taken him back to the Zuoyue Bureau. It was…as good a place as any, he supposed. No doubt Feng Xiao would come back soon and demand an explanation, but hopefully by then he would be calm enough to come up with something that would satisfy.
Cui Buqu strode through the halls toward his office, ignoring the other employees who sent him alarmed looks before practically leaping out of his path. He kept trying to force his usually obedient mind back on its usual, weathered channels, but it kept drifting back to Feng Xiao, and his birthday, and the implicit expectation there.
He was startled out of his musings when, upon entering his office, he found several people bent over his desk. Normally Cui Buqu would’ve hidden his surprise, but after the shock earlier today, he could only stare at them in stupid bewilderment.
At last, one of the people—Zhangsun Bodhi, he finally realized, feeling incredibly slow—raised his head and blinked at Cui Buqu. “Hello, Commander.”
“What are you doing here?” Cui Buqu demanded.
The rest of the workers all raised their heads at his tone, blinking in wary confusion. Zhangsun Bodhi, who by far had the most experience dealing with Cui Buqu, immediately straightened with a concerned look on his face.
“Commander Feng informed us that it might be prudent for us to rewrite this paperwork for you, so as to prevent a migraine,” Zhangsun Bodhi replied cautiously. “But if we’ve done something wrong, then don’t blame him; the fault was mine for agreeing, rather than consulting you first.”
Cui Buqu stared at him for a beat, and then another, and another, the shrill ringing in his mind becoming more and more like an unbroken, hysterical scream.
That motherfucker Feng Xiao. He really expected Cui Buqu to live, didn’t he?
“CUI BUQU!” Feng Xiao thundered, from somewhere else in the building.
I cannot see him right now, Cui Buqu’s mind, body, and soul all shouted in unison. So he took a deep breath, and did the most undignified thing he ever had in his short life:
Ignoring the shocked protests of Zhangsun Bodhi and the other employees, he hurried to the window, slung his leg over the sill, and pushed over. He teetered unsteadily for a few heartstopping moments, before regaining his balance—
And taking off down the street.
After putting some distance between himself and the Zuoyue bureau and most of all Feng Xiao, Cui Buqu could acknowledge that he’d had a bit of an overreaction. Except—
Was it really an overreaction?
For his entire life, he’d been told that just waking up in the morning was a miracle in action; he had lived accordingly. He could extrapolate the course of the nation based on a five minute conversation with a stranger, but he’d never bothered imagining beyond the very near future for himself.
And yet, Feng Xiao had figured out his birthday. Feng Xiao had told Zhangsun Bodhi to rewrite his paperwork, with the intention of preventing a future migraine. Feng Xiao memorized his many facial expressions, learning him backward and forward, because he was clearly imagining a future with Cui Buqu in it, for no other reason than because he wanted it that way.
What the fuck was Cui Buqu supposed to do with that?
There hadn’t been any room for softness in his life before now; the enemies surrounding him and his own illness meant that he had always lived on the blade-edge of a knife. Everything he had, he had won through pain.
But like a vividly painted scroll unfurling before him, he saw:
Himself and Feng Xiao going to lunch together whenever they felt like it, until it became something normal, something routine. Splitting dishes they both liked, indulging in harmless court gossip, while the capital turned around them.
Going to Feng Xiao with his flimsy excuses, and Feng Xiao inviting him in, always inviting him in, no matter what. Bantering verbally and mentally over the board, constantly challenging each other to be smarter, to be better.
Oh, but there’s more, isn’t there?
Taking cases together, pushing themselves to the brink, adrenaline and exhilaration burning like fire in their veins. The heady triumph of proving they were stronger than the foe who’d made the mistake of challenging them; showing that they were far more than the sum of their parts—showing that when together, they truly were peerless.
You know that’s not all.
Yes, fine. He was not in the habit of lying to himself.
Feng Xiao’s hungry gaze on him, eyes devouring, grinning like a predator about to consume a meal whole. Hot, callused hands wandering beneath his robes, stroking lines of fire down his skin until he ached with pleasure. Cui Buqu’s body responding in ways he’d never imagined it could, igniting him from within.
Loving, and being wholeheartedly loved in return, even despite the fact that he was Cui Buqu.
…did he dare to think that such a thing might be possible? Not just today, not just tomorrow, but months from now?
Ignoring the strange glances he was getting from passersby, he leaned his head against the rough bark of the tree he was sitting under. Right at this second, everything felt too big; he just…needed a moment to sit and think in silence, to put all his thoughts in order.
He’d never done this before. He’d never…felt so discomposed that he raised his voice, and ran from the person he—
He lo—
No, he couldn’t say it.
Slowly, it began to dawn on Cui Buqu that this was probably what a midlife crisis felt like. Motherfucker, he thought viciously, and it was so satisfying that he thought it again.
If that kind of future was possible—and it felt so strange to even think such a thing, to speak that…hope into existence. Cui Buqu didn’t do hope; it had never been much use to him before. The shame of wanting instinctively made him want to throw up a mask and start denying everything before someone else could laugh at him for being a disillusioned fool.
But if it was possible, then…he wanted it. He hadn’t even known how much he’d wanted it until this exact moment, with his chest tight and his butterfly heart fluttering inside of his ribcage.
…well, that was a good place to start: knowing that this was something he wanted to run to, rather than away from. At least, something he didn’t want to run away from in the future. As soon as he got over his midlife crisis, he’d go back and prove to everyone that he was quite fine, actually, and they definitely did not need to worry about him.
But for right now…
Cui Buqu got to his feet and dusted off his robes, before continuing to meander down the path. Meandering aimlessly was not normally something he did either, but one acted very strange when they were having a midlife crisis. Every bizarre thing he did today, he firmly decided, could later be excused by his temporarily compromised frame of mind.
Around one incense stick of time later, Cui Buqu looked up the road to see a very familiar head of still-growing hair bobbing through the crowd. For a moment he considered going to the other man, this new revelation tucked close to his heart. It was a very warm, comforting thought.
At the same time, it was utterly terrifying in a way he didn’t feel equipped to confront just yet.
So instead he ducked into a nearby teashop and folded himself into a seat that wasn’t obvious from the street. He sat there for a while, expecting for Feng Xiao to burst through the front door at any moment and cuss him out for running away. It was surprising, and honestly a little disappointing, when nothing of the sort happened.
What is the matter with you? Cui Buqu chided himself. Do you want to see him, or don’t you?
Well…honestly, the answer to that was obvious. Yes, he wanted to see Feng Xiao, except that he had no idea what he was going to say, or do. All of his political expertise, all of his scheming, meant nothing when it came to navigating a relati…
Relatio…
No, he couldn’t say it. Not even in the privacy of his own head.
“Can I get you something, dear?”
Cui Buqu looked up to find an old woman standing beside him, her face beaten and weathered, back bowed with age. He automatically did a threat assessment, before deciding that she probably wasn’t going to poison him at the first opportunity. “Tea.”
She nodded, and tottered off to the kitchen. As he waited, he found himself studying the simple yet neat decor, finally getting out of his head for the first time since the restaurant. He was surprised he’d never been here before; clearly this was an old, well-loved spot.
The old woman came back, and set the teacup on his table with hands that trembled very finely. She must have noticed him looking, because she said, “These old hands aren’t as steady as they used to be, but I’ll be dead in the ground before I spill a drop.”
Cui Buqu looked at her for a moment, before lowering his gaze to his own hands. On bad days, they occasionally shook to the point where he had to dictate what he wanted to write to Zhangsun Bodhi. He…hadn’t considered that that might worsen with age, that ten years from now the bad days might become more frequent.
Ten years seemed so far away.
He’d expected the old woman to leave once she’d given him what he wanted, but then her eyes also flickered to his hands, and her face softened with knowing. “My husband helps where he can.”
“He doesn’t mind?” Burst from Cui Buqu’s lips before he could stop himself. Immediately shame flashed through him for his obvious, pathetic insecurity, so strongly that he was almost nauseous with it.
“We’ve been married for almost forty years,” the woman replied dryly. “If he minded, I think he would’ve said something by now.”
Cui Buqu was unable to look at her. Instead he stared straight ahead, face a stony mask of forced apathy. “Forty years is a long time.”
The woman cackled. “Oh, it’s an eternity. But it’s not so bad when you face it together, one day at a time. That’s love, darling.”
“Hm,” Cui Buqu replied. He looked down at the tea, considering its complex, murky depths. “I can’t actually drink this.” If he tried to now, the caffeine would give him a migraine and keep him up until the early hours of the morning.
To her credit, the woman just nodded and gathered the tea back up. “Sit as long as you need.”
“Okay,” Cui Buqu said. And then he said, “Thank you.”
She considered him for a beat, and then nodded with a look of sharp understanding on her face that had clearly been honed to a keen edge by the slow turning of the years. “Of course.”
Several hours after he’d fled the restaurant, just as the sun was beginning to sink below the horizon, Cui Buqu finally arrived back home. He’d walked the entire way, which was probably a mistake, but the fresh air had…helped. He still didn’t feel entirely like his usual self, but at the very least he wasn’t going to bolt at the sight of the source of his emotional turmoil.
Which was probably a good thing, actually, because gentle candlelight was pouring through an open window, like a lighthouse calling a ship home.
He’s not going to let me run away from this, Cui Buqu thought with a tired sort of fondness.
Good. He was done running, anyway.
Cui Buqu stepped inside the entrance and meticulously hung his cloak up, the same one that Feng Xiao had draped over his shoulders earlier that day. He tensed briefly as he felt more than heard a presence appear behind him, radiating wrath, but he forced himself to relax. He was mature enough to admit that he probably deserved it.
There was…more between them than mere cool acquaintanceship, wasn’t there? He couldn’t just run away and leave Feng Xiao in the dark whenever he freaked out.
He would have to do better in the future.
With this in mind, he turned around, and met Feng Xiao’s gaze.
Feng Xiao didn’t waste a second. “What were you thinking?”
Cui Buqu chose not to reply, just waited.
If anything, the silence seemed to piss Feng Xiao off even more. “No, it’s clear that you weren’t thinking. Were you just—wandering around all day?” Feng Xiao sneered. “If you wake up ill tomorrow, don’t come whining to me.”
“I won’t,” Cui Buqu said quietly.
Feng Xiao bristled. “Why do any of us even bother, when you’re so good at destroying yourself?”
And now that Cui Buqu was looking, he could recognize something that he had been completely blind to before now: Feng Xiao was hurt. Oh, he was trying to hide it beneath snapping anger, but Cui Buqu’s actions had affected him deeply. So Cui Buqu took a deep breath, and did one of the hardest things he’d ever done:
“You’re right. I wasn’t thinking,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
Feng Xiao couldn’t have looked more shocked if Cui Buqu had come up and slapped him across the face.
“I didn’t know,” he continued.
“I—” Feng Xiao blinked rapidly, clearly still in the middle of processing the previous impossible statement. “What?”
Cui Buqu sighed deeply, and steeled himself. “I didn’t know that it was my birthday.”
(In his entire life, no one had ever celebrated Cui Buqu’s birthday. In fact, the day he’d come into the world had been so taboo in the Cui household that the whole family had gone out of their way to avoid talking about it. When he’d run away, he’d only been very peripherally aware that birthdays were something people celebrated at all.
At what point would he have been informed of the date? And even if he had been told, what would compel him to remember something his family had so reviled? By the time he’d come to the capital, even the mere idea of seeking out his birthday had been so outlandish it had literally never occurred to him.)
Feng Xiao’s eyes widened, and realization dawned on his face as he visibly fit this piece of information into the puzzle of Cui Buqu’s behavior.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he added, because he wanted to make sure that was clear.
“Okay.” The response was clearly an automatic reaction, rather than because he was actually agreeing with what Cui Buqu had said. However it was obvious when the words finally processed, because Feng Xiao’s gaze flew to Cui Buqu’s face, and his jaw slackened. “What—?”
Cui Buqu lifted his chin, and waited.
Feng Xiao’s mouth snapped shut, before opening again. “Is there—are you dying?”
Cui Buqu snorted. “According to my doctors, I’ve always had one foot in the grave.”
Feng Xiao just looked pained. “A-Cui…”
Cui Buqu took pity on him. “No more than usual.”
“Then what is going on?” Feng Xiao burst out, such a helpless note of desperation in his voice that Cui Buqu couldn’t help stepping forward, closing some of the distance between them. They were far too similar, Cui Buqu reflected—the same way he couldn’t bring himself to admit his own feelings, Feng Xiao was incapable of expressing when he was feeling insecure.
Cui Buqu knew that he’d never be able to convey the enormity of the emotion residing within him, the shape of the desire resting like a lodestone in his soul. It was too big, too complex, and most of all, vulnerable in a way he’d never allowed himself to be before.
But he could try. For Feng Xiao’s sake, he could try.
“I don’t,” Cui Buqu told him, taking another careful step forward. “Know when your birthday is.”
Feng Xiao blinked rapidly. “It’s…it’s in a few months, but I don’t understand why…”
Cui Buqu reached out, took one of Feng Xiao’s dry, warm hands in his own, and squeezed it gently. “Birthdays are for people who think they are going to live to the next one.”
Feng Xiao’s mouth finally fell shut, his lips pressing into a tight, pained line.
“You went out of your way to figure out mine,” Cui Buqu said insistently, giving Feng Xiao a little shake. “I—I didn’t understand what it meant, before. When you started to—to know me, like no one else ever had. I had—it was more than anyone else had ever done for me, including myself.”
“A-Cui,” Feng Xiao whispered, stricken.
“I didn’t realize what you wanted from me.” Cui Buqu stared very hard at the crease of Feng Xiao’s robe, grasping for the strength to continue in those finely woven threads. “I know now. I know, Feng’er.”
Feng Xiao tentatively laid his free hand against Cui Buqu’s shoulder, and the warmth burned all the way through the layers, a firebrand against his skin.
“I had never thought about what the future might look like before,” Cui Buqu whispered, stepping closer still, until he could rest his forehead against Feng Xiao’s firm shoulder. It smelled like osmanthus and incense and ever-so-faintly of sweat, and it made something in Cui Buqu settle. Here, in the tiny, sacred hollow between their two bodies, Cui Buqu could finally admit: “It frightened me.”
Apparently Cui Buqu’s honesty was catching, because Feng Xiao softly replied, “It frightens me, to hear you talk like that.”
“I know,” Cui Buqu immediately replied, the corners of his eyes tightening.
“Don’t run away from me again,” Feng Xiao ordered. “Just…don’t.”
Don’t hurt me like that again. Beneath Feng Xiao’s brusque words Cui Buqu could hear the plea loud and clear, the one he was incapable of admitting aloud.
“I won’t,” Cui Buqu replied, and finally looked up to meet Feng Xiao’s gaze head-on. “I want to know your birthday, too.”
Feng Xiao’s eyes widened slightly, before it was tucked beneath his usual, albeit slightly shaky, smirk. “Don’t regret it. I’m very difficult to please, after all.”
Cui Buqu rolled his eyes fondly. “Please. I already knew you were high maintenance.”
And then, with the heady feeling of boldness driving him onward, he stretched onto his tiptoes and pressed a dry kiss to the side of Feng Xiao’s mouth, lingering briefly before rocking back onto his heels. Feng Xiao immediately followed him down, pulling Cui Buqu flush against him, capturing his lips in a way that it seared him right to the core.
Then, between gasping breaths and fiery kisses, Feng Xiao suddenly separated, huffed a soft laugh and said, “Oooo look at me, I'm Cui Buqu, and I'm having emotions for the first time ever. I'm going to be so normal about it—”
“Would you shut up?” Cui Buqu growled, and kissed him silent.
A few minutes later, Feng Xiao interrupted them again to innocently ask, “If I give you your present now, are you going to climb out another window?”
Cui Buqu felt the tips of his ears redden at the reminder, and he tightened his fists in Feng Xiao's collar and gave him a little scolding shake.
“Alright, alright,” Feng Xiao laughed, and reached into his robes.
Cui Buqu stared blankly down at the little jade statue sitting in the palm of Feng Xiao's hand. It was an exquisitely detailed peacock, its long tail feathers fanned out behind it, head tucked coyly over one shoulder. He slowly picked it up and turned it over, studying the tasteful gold accents on the pale, precious material.
“When you're feeling my absence, this will remind you of me,” Feng Xiao said smugly.
“This is one of the ugliest things I've ever seen,” Cui Buqu declared. “It's incredibly gaudy.”
Feng Xiao raised an eyebrow. “So you don't want it?”
Cui Buqu immediately narrowed his eyes and brought the peacock protectively close to his chest. “Who said that? It’s mine now. I'm not giving it back.”
Feng Xiao gave a delighted laugh, and once more pulled Cui Buqu in by the waist. Cui Buqu pouted slightly but let him do so without protest, resting his hands against Feng Xiao’s shoulders.
“Happy birthday, Ququ,” Feng Xiao breathed against Cui Buqu’s lips, before closing the distance between them.